A sudden gust of wind blew Jim’s cap into the dry well of the Fort, and a considerable time passed before he could scramble out; then, for a moment, he stood helpless and amazed. The sky was dark and overcast with black clouds scudding in from the sea; the tide had half filled the bay; the waves were washing the bridge and increasing in violence every second. Dick and the others were racing along the slippery path, and had by this time almost gained safety. "Thank goodness they’re safe!" said he. "Shall I risk it? I think not. I’ll climb to the top of the tower till the tide goes down, or perhaps a boatman will take me off." He was turning to go back when a yell from the shore attracted his attention, and looking along the bridge again, he exclaimed, "Good gracious! what’s that fool of a Braithwaite doing? He’ll be washed off for certain.—Hi, Braithwaite, Braithwaite! come back! D’you hear? Come back! You’ll be all right here in the Fort." The boy in the middle of the pathway moved neither backward nor forward. It was poor Braithwaite, who, though far from being a coward, was overwhelmed by the startling suddenness of the danger. He could not swim, and the possibility of being drowned unnerved him. Instead of following the others, he had stopped short on the bridge, too dazed to move, though the peril increased every moment. Even now, with care and a little luck, he might have got safely through, but he did not try. In vain the boys on shore shouted; in vain Jim yelled from the fort; he seemed not to hear. "He’ll be drowned," groaned Jim—"he’s bound to be. And," with a sudden rush of memory, "it’s all my fault. If I hadn’t chaffed him, he would have been at home now." Raising his voice, he once more shouted, "Braithwaite, Braithwaite, come back; it’s quite safe here!" But it appeared as if the unhappy boy had lost all power to move. It was not only useless, it might be fatal, to wait longer. Taking out his pocket-knife, Jim cut the laces of his boots, slipped them off, and put them in a safe place. Then he laid his coat and waistcoat by them, muttering, "Better go light, in case of accident." "Keep your footing, Braithwaite!" he yelled; "I’m coming." Full of their play, the boys had not noticed the signs of the coming storm. It was sweeping in now. The sky had darkened. Across the bay the great white sea-horses were leaping madly at the jagged rocks. The boys on shore had disappeared, but Jim knew the Angel would not desert him.