I wondered that so few appeared at the cry of the bells. After those first nobody came for what seemed a long time. I believe, however, I was beating the alarum for only a few minutes altogether, though when I look back upon the time in the dark church, it looks like half-an-hour at least. But indeed I feel so confused about all the doings of that night that in attempting to describe them in order, I feel as if I were walking in a dream. Still, from comparing mine with the recollected impressions of others, I think I am able to give a tolerably correct result. Most of the incidents seem burnt into my memory so that nothing could destroy the depth of the impression; but the order in which they took place is none the less doubtful. A hand was laid on my shoulder. “Who is there?” I said; for it was far too dark to know anyone. “Percivale. What is to be done? The coastguard is away. Nobody seems to know about anything. It is of no use to go on ringing more. Everybody is out, even to the maid-servants. Come down to the shore, and you will see.” “But is there not the life-boat?” “Nobody seems to know anything about it, except ‘it’s no manner of use to go trying of that with such a sea on.’” “But there must be someone in command of it,” I said. “Yes,” returned Percivale; “but there doesn’t seem to be one of the crew amongst the crowd. All the sailor-like fellows are going about with their hands in their pockets.” “Let us make haste, then,” I said; “perhaps we can find out. Are you sure the coastguard have nothing to do with the life-boat?” “I believe not. They have enough to do with their rockets.” “I remember now that Roxton told me he had far more confidence in his rockets than in anything a life-boat could do, upon this coast at least.” While we spoke we came to the bank of the canal. This we had to cross, in order to reach that part of the shore opposite which the wreck lay. To my surprise the canal itself was in a storm, heaving and tossing and dashing over its banks. “Percivale,” I exclaimed, “the gates are gone; the sea has torn them away.” “Yes, I suppose so. Would God I could get half-a-dozen men to help me. I have been doing what I could; but I have no influence amongst them.” “What do you mean?” I asked. “What could you do if you had a thousand men at your command?” He made me no answer for a few moments, during which we were hurrying on for the bridge over the canal. Then he said: “They regard me only as a meddling stranger, I suppose; for I have been able to get no useful answer. They are all excited; but nobody is doing anything.” “They must know about it a great deal better than we,” I returned; “and we must take care not to do them the injustice of supposing they are not ready to do all that can be done.” Percivale was silent yet again.