"My God!" shouted a bystander, gruffly. "'Tis William Brooke, of the Cottages." "Yes. 'Tis me," said the man, sitting up again. "Not that arm, mate; don't ye touch it. 'Tis bruk. Yes; 'tis me. And 'The Last Hope' is on the tail of the Inner Curlo--and the spar that knocked me overboard fell on the old man, and must have half killed him. But Loo Barebone's aboard." He rose to his knees, with one arm hanging straight and piteous from his shoulder, then slowly to his feet. He stood wavering for a moment, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and spluttered. Then, looking straight in front of him, with that strange air of a whipped dog which humble men wear when the hand of Heaven is upon them, he staggered up the beach toward the river and Farlingford. "Where are ye goin'?" some one asked. "Over to mine," was the reply. "A'm going to my old woman, shipmets." And he staggered away in the darkness. CHAPTER XL FARLINGFORD ONCE MORE After a hurried consultation, Septimus Marvin was deputed to follow the injured man and take him home, seeing that he had as yet but half recovered his senses. This good Samaritan had scarcely disappeared when a shout from the beach drew the attention of all in another direction. One of the outposts was running toward the fire, waving his lantern and shouting incoherently. It was a coast-guard. "Comin' ashore in their own boat," he cried. "They're coming in in their own boat!" "There she rides--there she rides!" added Sea Andrew, almost immediately, and he pointed to the south. Quite close in, just outside the line of breakers, a black shadow was rising and falling on the water. It seemed to make scarcely any way at all, and each sea that curled underneath the boat and roared toward the beach was a new danger. "They're going to run her in here," said Sea Andrew. "There's more left on board; that's what that means, and they're goin' back for 'em. If 'twasn't so they'd run in anywheres and let her break." For one sailor will always tell what another is about, however great the distance intervening. Slowly the boat came on, rolling tremendously on the curve of the breakers, between the broken water of the tideway and the spume of the surf. "That's Loo at the hellum," said Sea Andrew--the keenest eyes in Farlingford.