A strange phenomenon! But if by chance there had been some shipwrecked man clinging to that reef, he might have fancied that the rocks to which he clung were drifting in the sea—strangely shifting ground and drawing up closer to a yacht at anchor. Or was it something different? Was the yacht really no longer lying anchor-bound? And was it drifting, drifting slowly down upon the rocks, soon to be lifted high upon a crest of the ground-swell—and then to be dropped down heavily upon one of the streaming, foam-covered points of ledge? Crash and crash again! Was it louder and heavier than before? Henry Burns’s eyes opened wearily. The sound of the sea seemed stunning. What was it about the noise that seemed more fearful, more terrifying, more dreadful than before? He sprang up now. Yes, there could be no doubt. Something was wrong. The sea rising, perhaps. The wind blowing up. There it came, again and again. It was louder—and louder still. A mind works slowly brought quickly from sleep; but Henry Burns was wide awake now. The boys had turned in half-undressed, to be ready for an early start in the morning. Henry Burns slipped on his trousers, scrambling about in the darkness. “Jack, get up!” he cried, seizing his sleeping comrade and shaking him roughly. “Wake up, fellows—quick! Something’s the matter.” He burst open the cabin doors and rushed out on deck. No, there was no delusion here. The reef lay close aboard. The din of the beating, crashing waters seemed deafening. The _Viking_, dipping and falling with the long swells, was going slowly but surely down upon it. Henry Burns reached for a short sheath-knife that he carried when aboard the yacht, moved quickly along from the stern to the foot of the mast, and cut the stops with which the sail had been furled. Then he dashed to the bulkhead, and, without stopping to cast off the turns from the cleats, seized the throat and peak halyards and began hauling desperately. The next moment, Tom and Bob had tumbled forward and caught hold with him; while Harvey, emerging half-awake from the companionway, seized the wheel. Three athletic pairs of arms had the mainsail up quicker than it had ever been set before. “Quick now with the jib!” cried Harvey. “That will head us off, if there’s any breeze to save us. Jump it for dear life, boys.” They needed no urging. It was set almost before Harvey had finished speaking. Tom, holding it off as far as he could reach to windward, stood on the weather-bow, shivering in the cool night air and glaring fearfully at the rocks close ahead. The white spray, writhing up half as high as the mast, seemed to be coming nearer and nearer.