A couple of hands made their way along the heaving, slippery fore-deck, hanging on tenaciously as masses of solid water swept over them. Watching his opportunity one of the men dropped down the fore-hatch, which his companion immediately replaced. In utter darkness, for the inspection lamp he carried was jerked violently against the coaming of the hatchway, the man toiled desperately, knocking out the stubborn pin of the shackle and allowing the cable to fly through the fair-lead. The moment Derek saw the end of the cable disappear beneath the waves he slipped in the clutch, while the coxswain steadied the vessel on her helm and bore down toward the two swimmers. By dispensation of Providence the waves were no longer of such a threatening character. They were still formidable, and had to be treated with caution. Judging his distance well the helmsman brought the boat close alongside the now well-nigh exhausted men. Already Derek had thrown the clutch into neutral, and, losing way, the motor-boat stopped to windward of the swimmers. Willing hands hauled them into safety, the engineer bleeding from a severe cut on the forehead, and showing distinct signs of light-headedness. Meanwhile the second boat, having drawn clear of the dangerous breakers, was returning to the aid of her consort. As she did so her motor "konked". Instead of rendering assistance she was now in urgent need of help. Another partial lifting of the fog revealed the true position. Within three hundred yards to the west'ard could be discerned the bold outlines of Thorbury Head, while to the nor'ard were the sand-dunes at the mouth of the shallow Thorbury Harbour, and it was between these two points that the breakers were raging. Elsewhere the sea was almost as calm as the proverbial mill-pond, but in the mist Derek had steered his boat right through the danger-zone. Heaving a line to the disabled motor-boat Derek took her in tow, steering a circuitous course to avoid the now very apparent danger. Then, having made a good offing, he handed the helm to the coxswain. The engineer was quite _hors de combat_. Stripped of his saturated clothing and wrapped up in blankets, he was being attended to in the warm but cramped engine-room. Still light-headed, he required the sole attentions of one of the crew to keep him under control. Derek was now able to review the situation. He felt far from comfortable on the matter. The seaplane was lost--probably smashed to matchwood on the beach. Both boats were considerably knocked about, while two of the crew were out of action, and a third was temporarily disabled by reason of a badly-crushed finger-nail. In addition there was the loss of a practically brand-new anchor and forty fathoms of galvanized cable, two life-buoys, and a White Ensign and its staff, which had been carried away during the towing manoeuvres.