“Quick, lads, to the boat,” the mate said, “there is not a moment to be lost. There is a storm brewing, and the sooner we are on board the better.” They ran through the water, got into the boat, and pushed her off. “Be careful, men; paddle quietly until we are well beyond the rocks. Keep a sharp look out forward.” Another gun was fired from the ship as he spoke. “Steady, men, steady!” he said; “you can row as hard as you like when we get outside, but it is of no use knocking a hole in her to start with.” As soon as they were beyond the rocks they bent to the oars. At the mate’s orders, the two apprentices and the sailors in the bow took their seats by the rowers and double-banked the oars. “The skipper is getting every rag of sail off her,” the mate said, as he looked ahead. “There is another gun! It is getting darker and darker, I don’t suppose they can make us out. Give way, lads.” The gloom deepened rapidly. The ship continued to fire guns every minute or two, and it was well she did so, for the mate had now lost sight of her. “Which way do you think it will come, sir?” Stephen, who was at the stroke-oar, asked. The mate shook his head. “There is no knowing,” he said. “If it is inshore, the _Tiger_ will lay her bones by that wreck behind us. We can’t be above a mile away from her by the sound of that last gun. But it will be a close thing, I can hear the wind coming.” Even those rowing were conscious of a low moaning sound. “It comes from behind I think,” the mate said in answer to a look from Stephen. Suddenly a puff of wind from behind rippled the water round them and then died away again. “Row, lads,” the mate exclaimed, “I can see the ship now, she is not half a mile away; five minutes will do it.” The men strained at the oars and the boat sprang forward at every stroke. They could hear the moaning sound growing louder and louder. “The captain has got her head off shore,” the mate said; “he has been towing her round. They have just hoisted the boat up. He has got the little storm-jib on her. Now, lads, another four or five hundred yards and we shall be alongside.” It was a race with the storm, but the odds were too great. They were but a hundred yards from the ship when the roar rose into a wild scream, and a line of white water sprang towards them with fearful velocity. “In oars, men!” the mate shouted. “Throw yourselves flat in the bottom of the boat,—quick!”