"Let go the second bower," cried the captain. The ship was drifting towards the rocks. Willy held his breath. What Harry had said might soon be realised. Mrs Morley and her daughters were on deck. They stood together watching the shore. Their cheeks were paler than usual, but they showed no sign of alarm, talking calmly and earnestly together. As Willy Dicey observed them, he wondered whether they could be aware of the danger they were in. To be sure, they might be lowered into the boat before the ship struck, but then the Colonel was not likely to quit his men, and they could not be indifferent to his safety. Still the ship drifted. "Let go the sheet-anchor," was the next order. All were looking out anxiously to ascertain whether she was driving nearer the treacherous surf. Many a breast drew a relieved breath. The last anchor had brought her up. Sails were now furled and royal yards sent down. Near the "Ranger" an English barque was at anchor. Her master came on board, and volunteered to assist in making a hawser fast to his vessel, for the purpose of casting the ship the right way. "You will find, Captain Newcombe, that the rollers will soon be increasing, and, knowing the place as I do, I have great doubts whether the anchors will hold," he observed; "I wish you were well out of this." As he spoke, he cast an anxious glance astern, where the surf was breaking with terrific violence. The offer was gladly accepted. The two cutters were accordingly lowered to take hawsers to the barque. On the sheet-anchor being weighed, it came up without resistance. Both flukes had been carried away. The only hope of safety depended on the remaining anchor and cable holding till sail could be made. In vain the boats attempted to carry the hawsers to the barque. A strong current sent them to leeward, and they were accordingly ordered again on board. Happily, at this moment the wind veered a point to the east. There is no necessity to tell the men to be sharp. The order to make sail is given. The crew swarm aloft; the soldiers, under proper guidance, are stationed at the halliards, and the tacks and sheets. The cable is slipped, single-reefed topsails, courses, topgallant sails, jibs, and driver set. Few among even the brave seamen who do not hold their breath and offer up a silent prayer that the ship may cast the right way. Hurra! round she comes. The sails fill. She moves through the water. The boats with the hawser get alongside and are hoisted up, and the old "Ranger" stands out towards the open sea. Is there a soul on board so dull and ungrateful as not to return fervent thanks to a gracious superintending God for deliverance from the imminent danger in which they have been placed?