Old Prawle seemed to mind the furious gale no more than the softest breeze, and at length he descended the cliff slope towards where the waves came tumbling in a hundred yards or so beyond the end of the huge wall of masonry that formed the harbour; and as he saw the sturdy fishermen taking the same direction, with coils of rope over their shoulders, Geoffrey needed no telling that the lugger would come ashore there, for, if expected to make the harbour, the men would have made no such preparations as these. As they went down along the rugged slope Geoffrey touched the old man on the shoulder, and pointed to the harbour. "No," shouted old Prawle, in his ear; "she can't do it, nor yet with three times her crew." The crowd had rapidly increased, for it was known now that Tom Jennen's "boot" must be wrecked, and quite a hundred men had gathered on the shore ready to lend a hand to save. No vessel could have lived in the chaos of foam between them and the lugger unless it were the lifeboat, and that was seven miles away, while the lugger was now not as many hundred yards. Through the dim haze Geoffrey could make out the figures of the men on board when the lugger rose to the top of some wave, but for the most part they were hidden from his sight; and as he stood there, drenched with the spray, he shuddered as he thought of the fate of these, now so full of vigour, if their seamanship should really prove unavailing to guide them into a place of safety. "Is there danger, Trethick?" said a voice at his ear; and, turning, there stood the Reverend Edward Lee, his white face bedewed with the spray, and his glasses in his hand, as he wiped off the thick film of salt water. "I fear so. Poor fellows!" was the reply. "Is it true that that unhappy man is on board?" Geoffrey nodded, and their eyes met for a few moments. "God forgive him!" said the vicar, softly. "Trethick, can we do any thing to save his life?" As he spoke, Geoffrey for answer pointed to one of the huge green rollers that now came sweeping in, curled over, and broke with a roar like thunder upon the rocky beach. "Nothing but stand ready with a rope," was the reply; and then the two young men stood watching the lugger till one of the fishermen came up with a great oilskin coat. "Put it on, sir," he roared to the vicar. "It'll keep some of it off." The vicar was about to refuse, but his good feeling prompted him to accept the offer, and a few minutes later another came up and offered one to Geoffrey, who shook his head, and, in place of taking it, stripped off his coat and moved farther down to meet the waves. The vicar followed him quickly, for the crucial time had come. As far as those ashore could make out, the crew of the lugger had hoisted their fore-sail a few feet higher, and, as they raced in, there was just a chance that she might obey her rudder and swing round into shelter; but it was the faintest of chances, and so it proved.