At the end of his "trick" Coventry was relieved by Mayne, and he, too, cooled his heels in watchful inactivity. Atherton followed, and at length came Simpson's turn. "Rain's knocking off," he remarked, as he took his chum's post. "That's one blessing." "It will be daylight in less than an hour and a half. As soon as it is fairly light we will get back to our tents and have a decent sleep till half-past six," said Atherton. "I've neither seen nor heard a sign of anyone. There's only the howling of the wind, the noise of the fog-signals, and that peculiar shrieking sound to cheer you up, old man." Once or twice to the lad's slightly overstrained nerves, Simpson imagined he saw something move, but unwilling to rouse his comrades he kept still long enough to make certain that his sense of sight had played him false. He was tired. Several times he caught himself dozing: his head would fall forward, only to recover itself with a jarring jerk as he became aware that he was on the point of sleeping at his post. Suddenly, at no great distance off, came the heavy report of a gun. The noise brought Atherton and his two companions out of their rough-and-ready shelter, and hardly able to realise what was amiss they rejoined Simpson. "It was a gun; a vessel in distress off the back of the Island, I fancy," said the latter. "Back to the camp for all you're worth," exclaimed Atherton. "We must turn the others out, and see if we can be of use." But there was no need to arouse the rest of the two patrols. The detonation, sounding much louder on the higher ground than it had in the hollow where Atherton and his fellow-watchers had been sheltering, had effectually alarmed the Scouts, who, under Phillips' orders, had turned out in greatcoats, ready for action. "Bring those ropes," shouted Atherton, striving to make himself understood above the howling of the wind, "and the large pulleys. There it goes again." A vivid flash, outlining the crest of Seal Island, was immediately followed by the report, while simultaneously an answering rocket soared skywards from the coastguard station at Refuge Point. This was acknowledged by the lighthouse on Beware Point, and a message transmitted to Padstow summoning the lifeboat. Bending to the storm the Scouts, bearing their gear, doubled towards the seaward side of the Island, in the direction indicated by the discharge of the gun. Dawn was just breaking as they gained the edge of the cliffs. Below them, with her bows driven hard against an outlying rock, was a steamer of about eight hundred tons. Her funnel and masts had gone by the board, her foremast showing a stump of about ten feet above the deck. Cataracts of white water were pouring over her, while cowering on the fo'c'sle were about twenty men. "What can we do?" asked Simpson anxiously. "We can't get a rope on board, and the cliffs are too steep to climb."