Rita kept her eyes away from the horrible rock, which seemed so much nearer to us now than when we were in the far back shelter of the Bay. And, indeed, it was nearer, for barely a quarter of a mile divided it from Neil's foreshore. But such a quarter of a mile of fury, I had never before seen. Different from Rita, I could hardly take my eyes away from that rock. To me, it seemed alive in its awful ferocity. It was the point of meeting of three different currents and it gave the impression to the onlooker that it was drawing and sucking everything to its own rapacious maw. Old Man Andrews saw us from his window and came out to us, clad in oilskins and waders. "Guess it's making for a hum-dinger, George," he roared into my ears. "Ain't seen its like for a long time. God help anything in the shape of craft that gets caught in this. She's sprung up mighty quick, too. "Got a nice cup of tea ready, Rita. Come on inside, both of you. It ain't often I see you up here. Come on in!" But Rita was standing apart, straining her eyes away far out into the Gulf. "What is it, lass?" shouted the old fellow. "See something out there?" "It is a boat," she cried back anxiously. "Yes!--it is a boat." Old Neil scanned the sea. "Can't see nothing, lass. Can you, George?" I followed the direction of Rita's pointing. "I'm not quite sure," I answered at last, "but it looks to me as if there was something rising and falling away there to the right." Neil ran into the house for his telescope. "By God!" he cried, "it's a tug. She's floundering like a duck on ice. Steering gear gone, or something! Hope they can keep heading out for the open, or it's all up with them," he said. We watched the boat for a while, then we turned into the house and partook of the old fellow's tea and hot rolls. In half an hour, we went out again. "George, George!" cried Rita, with a voice of terror, looking back to us from her position on the high rock. "Quick!--they are driving straight in shore." We ran up beside her and looked out. The tug,--for such it was,--was coming in at a great rate on the crest of the storm, beam on. Water was breaking over her continuously as she drove, and drove,--a battered, beaten object,--straight for The Ghoul. We could see three men clinging to the rails. Rita was standing, transfixed with horror at the coming calamity which nothing on earth could avert. Old man Andrews closed his telescope with a snap. "Guess you'd better go inside, Rita," he spoke tenderly. "No, no!" she cried furiously, her lips white and her eyes dilated. "You can't fool me. That's Joe's tug. Give me that glass. Let me see." "Better not, Rita. 'Tain't for gals." "Give it to me," she cried savagely. "Give it to me." She snatched the instrument from him and fixed it on the vessel. Then, with that awful pent-up emotion, which neither speaks nor weeps, she handed back the telescope to the fisherman.