"Yes, I think I do," said Lucy, peering into the dark. "Ah, and there is that gun again! It sounds a long way off."
"The light is moving!" cried Beryl. "I can see it quite plainly. It is moving towards us."
"Ah, poor souls, the Lord have mercy upon them!" exclaimed Lucy, clasping her hands in despair. "The wind is driving them straight upon the rocks below Sheldon Point."
"What do you mean, Lucy? What will happen to them?" asked Beryl.
"Why, Miss Beryl, the ship will break in pieces if it strikes on those rocks, and they will all go down," replied Lucy. "There is scarce a hope for any of them, poor souls."
"But surely they can be saved; they must be saved!" cried Beryl passionately. "The men will get out the lifeboat. Papa will see that they do something."
"The lifeboat would be of no use amongst those rocks, I fear," said Lucy, "even if they could launch it in such weather as this. The fishermen's lives are as dear as the lives of those on board that ship. They have wives and children to live for."
"Oh, Lucy, I will never say again that I like storms," said Beryl remorsefully. "Oh, I hope the ship will be saved!"
"I remember, many years ago, when I was a little girl, there was a vessel struck on those rocks," said Lucy, "and all on board her were drowned, though there were over a hundred of them."
"How dreadful!" said Beryl, with a shiver, as she watched the light drifting nearer and nearer to the deadly peril of the rocks.