"I never did have, and I shall not be any worse off," said Mr. Wilford coldly. "There comes your steamer. She hasn't got any pilot on board; I know by the way she steers. You had better go and see to her, for she is running right for the Goblins." Lawry glanced at the _Woodville_, as she appeared rounding a point, two miles distant. "If you will go and find Mr. Randall, I will give you the pocketbook, father," replied Lawry. "Well, I guess you are right, Lawry, and I'll do it." "He has gone up to the village," added Lawry, as he handed the money to his father. CHAPTER V HASTE AND WASTE Lawry, satisfied that his father had come to his senses, and would restore the pocketbook to Mr. Randall, hastened into the boat, and pulled toward the _Woodville_. He was afraid Mr. Sherwood had been too venturesome in attempting to pilot the little steamer in waters with which he was entirely unfamiliar; but he hoped for the best, and rowed as hard as he could, in order to give him timely warning of the perils which lay in the path of the beautiful craft. About half a mile above the landing at Port Rock there was a dangerous ledge, called the Goblins, some of whose sharp points were within a foot of the surface of the water when the lake was low. They were some distance from the usual track of steamers, and there was no buoy, or other mark, on them. The _Woodville_ was headed toward the rocks, as the ferryman had said, and it was impossible for Lawry to get within hailing distance of her before she reached them. He pulled with all his strength, and had hoped to overhaul her in season to avert a catastrophe. Occasionally, as he rowed, he looked behind him to observe the course of the steamer. She was almost up to the Goblins, while he was too far off to make himself heard in her wheel-house. He was appalled at her danger, and the cold sweat stood on his brow, as he saw her hastening to certain destruction. He could no longer hope to reach her, and he ceased rowing. Standing up in his boat, he waved his hat, and made other signs to warn the imprudent pilot of his danger. With one of the oars he tried to signify to him that he must keep off; but no notice was taken of his warning. On the forward deck of the little craft stood three ladies, who, taking the boatman's energetic gestures for friendly salutations, were waving their handkerchiefs to him. "Hard aport your helm!" shouted Lawry. Mr. Sherwood sounded the whistle, evidently taking the shout as a cheer of congratulation at his safe arrival. "Keep off!" roared Lawry. Again the whistle sounded, and the ladies waved their handkerchiefs more vigorously than before. The young pilot was in despair. The _Woodville_ was going at full speed directly upon the rocks, whose sharp points would grind her to powder if she struck upon them. "Hard aport!" repeated Lawry desperately.