Flora and Mabel agreed, Wyndham changed his course, and the dark hills they were following got nearer. By and by Marston hauled down the staysail and stood on the deck forward, studying the forbidding coast Wyndham steered for. A narrow strip of gloom, piercing the hills, indicated a valley, and at its end a dim red light blinked. One could see no entrance. Shadowy rocks dropped to the water, and a line of foam marked the course of the tide across a reef. A white belt of surf glimmered without a break at the foot of the cliffs. Wyndham, however, did not hesitate and Flora glanced at him with quiet confidence. The moonlight touched his face and she liked his calm. One could trust Harry when there was a strain; she was proud of his pluck and steady nerve. Besides, he looked strangely handsome and virile as he controlled the plunging yacht. When the white turmoil on the reef was close ahead she saw a break in the rocks. The gap was dark and very narrow; spouting foam played about its mouth. Wyndham signed to the fisher lad at the mainsheet, blocks rattled, and _Red Rose_, swerving, listed over until her lee deck was in the foam. Showers of spray blew across her, she was sailing very fast, and Flora knew she would soon be broken on the rocks if Wyndham missed the harbor mouth. They drove past the reef, the long boom lurched across, and _Red Rose_ rolled violently. Dark rocks towered above her mast and the sails thrashed and filled in the conflicting gusts, but the water got smooth and the harbor opened up. Presently Marston jumped to the foot of the mast and the peak of the mainsail swung down. "Starboard!" he shouted. "Look out for the perch!" Flora looked under the sail and saw a tall post with iron stays running from it into the water. She wondered whether the flapping canvas hid it from Wyndham, because he was slow to move the helm. "Starboard it is," he answered after a moment or two, leaning hard on the tiller as he pushed it across. There was a heavy shock, something cracked and broke, and a thick iron bar ground against the yacht's side. She slowed but did not stop and when she forged ahead again Marston leaped forward. "Bobstay's gone and bowsprit's broken at the cap!" he shouted. "Down sail! Ready with the anchor," said Wyndham quietly. Marston dropped the anchor under the bows, running chain rattled, and _Red Rose_ stopped. They pulled up the half-swamped dinghy and when they had thrown out the water Marston took a rope to a pier. Wyndham went forward and occupied himself with the wreck at the bows until Marston returned. "We'll need a new bowsprit and she's drawn the stay-bolt on the stem," he said. "I think that's all, but it will keep us here two or three days. Perhaps you had better see if you can wake Mrs. Evans before we land the girls."