“God forbid!” exclaimed the first speaker, lowering his telescope for a moment. “Why, he be mighty friendly to us fishermen.” “Where be they now, gaffer? D'ye see them?” asked a keen-looking lad of seventeen. “Ay, there they be! There they be! God have mercy on 'em! They'll be swamped sure as fate!” The coast guardsman, with provoked sang-froid and indifference, began to sing: “For though his body's under hatches, His soul is gone alo-o-ft.” And then breaking off into a sort of recitative. “Which is exactly the opposite quarter to what Luke Raeburn's soul will go, I guess.” “Blowed if I wouldn't pull an oar to save a mate, if I were so mighty sure he was going to the devil!” observed a weather-beaten seaman, with gold earrings and a good deal of tattooing on his brawny arms. “Would you now!” said the coast guardsman, with a superior and sardonic smile. “Well, in my 'umble opinion, drowning's too good for him.” With which humane utterance, the coast guardsman walked off, singing of Tom who “Never from his word departed, Whose heart was kind and soft.” “Well, I, for one, will lend a hand to help them. Now then, mates! Which of you is going to help to cheat the devil of his due?” said the man with the earrings. Three men proffered their services, but the old seaman with the telescope checked them. “Bide a bit, mates, bide a bit; I'm not sure you've a call to go.” He wiped the glasses of his telescope with a red handkerchief, and then looked out seaward once more. In the meantime, while their fate was being discussed on the shore, Raeburn and Erica were face to face with death. They were a long way from land before the wind had sprung up so strongly. Raeburn, who in his young days had been at once the pride and anxiety of the fishermen round his Scottish home, and noted for his readiness and daring, had now lost the freshness of his experience, and had grown forgetful of weather tokens. The danger was upon them before he had even thought of it. The strong wind blowing upon them, the delicious salt freshness, even the brisk motion, had been such a relief to them after the pain and excitement of the morning. But all at once they began to realize that their peril was great. Their little boat tossed so fearfully that Erica had to cling to the seat for safety; one moment they were down in the hollow of a deep green wave, the next they would be tossed up upon its crest as though their boat had been a mere cockle shell. “I'm afraid we've made a mistake, Eric,” said Raeburn. “I ought to have seen this storm coming up.” “What?” cried Erica, for the dashing of the waves made the end of the sentence inaudible. He looked across the boat at her, and an almost paralyzing dread filled his heart. For himself he could be brave, for himself death had no terrors but for his child!