On,--on I battled,--going with the rush,--holding back a little,--and easing out, and out, all the time toward the Rock. Half an hour passed;--perhaps an hour,--for I lost count of time and distance in my struggling. But, at last, battered and half-smothered, yet still crying defiance to everything, I found myself rising with a mountainous sea and bearing straight upon The Ghoul. As I was lifted up, I strained my eyes toward the teeth of the rock. Joe Clark,--that Hercules of men,--was still hanging on desperately:--no hope in his heart, but loth as ever to admit defeat, even to the elements. With tremendous force, I was thrown forward. As the wave broke, I flashed past Joe in the mad rush of water. I grabbed blindly, feeling sure I should miss,--for it was a thousand chances to one,--but I was stopped up violently. I tightened my clutch in desperation. I pulled myself up, and clasped both hands round the ledge of the rock, clinging to it precariously, my nails torn almost from my fingers. My hands were touching Joe's. My face came up close to his. Almost he lost his hold at the suddenness of my uncanny appearing. He shouted to me in defiance, and it surprised me how easily I could hear him, despite the hiss and roar of the waters. I could hear him more easily than I had heard Rita on the beach at Neil Andrews', so long, long ago. "My God! Bremner,--where did you come from? What d'ye want?" he shouted. "I want you, Joe," I cried, right into his ear. "Rita sent me for you,--will you come?" "It ain't no good," he replied despairingly;--"nobody gets off'n this hell alive." "But we shall," I yelled. "Rita wants you. She loves you, Joe. Isn't that worth a try, anyway?" "You bet!" he cried, as the water dashed over his face, "but how?" I screamed into his ear again. "Let go when I shout. Drop on your back. After that, don't move for your life. Leave the rest to me. Don't mind if you go under. It's our only chance." He nodded his head. I waited for an abatement of the surge. "Now!" I yelled, as a great, unbroken swell came along. Away we whirled on top of it; past the side of The Ghoul like bobbing corks,--into the rip and race of the tide,--sometimes above the water, most of the time under it,--gasping,--choking,--fighting,--then away,--in great heaving throws, from that churning death. How brave Joe was! and how trusting! Not a struggle did he make in that awful ordeal. He lay pliable and lightly upon me, as I floated up the Bay,--or wherever the current might be taking us. But there was only one direction with that flowing tide, after we had passed The Ghoul, and I knew it was into the Bay. So quiet did Joe lie, that I began to think the life had gone out of him. But I could do nothing for him; nothing but try, whenever possible, to keep his head and my own out of the sea.