"This is our chance," I shouted. A wave came, smoother and more whole than most, and paddling desperately I kept awhile upon the crest of it. Then like a flash it curled thinly, rolled the canoe over, and hurled us far up on the beach. Half blinded, half stunned, and altogether choking, I yet kept my wits; and catching Mizpah by the arm, I dragged her violently forward beyond reach of the next wave. Dropping her without a word, I turned back, and was just in time to catch the rolling canoe. It, too, I succeeded in dragging to a place of safety; but it was so shattered and crushed as to be useless. The muskets, however, were in it; for I had taken care to lash them under the bars before leaving the shelter of the inlet. The remnants of the canoe I hauled far up on the beach, and then I returned to Mizpah, who lay in utter exhaustion just where I had dropped her, so close to the water's edge that she was splashed by the spray of every wave. "Come, comrade," I said, lifting her gently. "The saints have indeed been kind to us." But she made no reply. Leaning heavily upon me, and moving as if in a dream, she let me lead her to the edge of the wood, where the herbage began behind a sort of windrow of rocks. There, seeing that the rocks shut off the wind, I released her, and dropping on the spot, she went at once to sleep. Then I felt myself suddenly as weak as a baby. I had no more care for anything save to sleep. I tried to pluck a bunch of herbage to put under Mizpah's head for a pillow; but even as I stooped to gather it, I forgot where I was, and the tide of dreams flowed over me. Chapter XVIII The _Osprey_, of Plymouth It must have been a good two hours that I slept. I woke with a start, with a sense of some duty left undone. I was in an awkward position, half on my side amid stones and underbrush, my arms clasping the bundle of herbage which I had meant for Mizpah's pillow. The daylight was fairly established, blue and cold, though the sun was not yet visible. The gale hummed shrilly as ever, the huge waves thundered on the trembling beach, and all seaward was such a white and purple hell of raving waters that I shuddered at the sight of it. Mizpah was still sleeping. As I looked at her the desire for sleep came over me again with deadly strength, but I resisted it, rushing down to the edge of the surf, and facing a chill buffet of driven spume. I took another glance at the canoe. It was past mending. The two muskets were there, but everything else was gone, washed away, or ground upon the rocks. After much searching, however, to my delight I found a battered roll of bacon wedged into a cleft. Pouncing upon this, I bore it in triumph to Mizpah. "Wake up, comrade," I cried, shaking her softly. "We must be getting away."