The night was now dark as the grave. Not a ray of light was to be seen, except the phosphorescent sparkling of the leaping waves. On—on—the little vessel plunged through the black fury of the tempest. The men had lost all control over her, and merely waited for death, while she was whirled, tossing and pitching, now whelming in the black waves, now lifted towards the sky, and ever carried onward towards the lee shore. While fate was thus imminent, Malcolm had brought Eudora from the cabin, and bound her firmly to himself, so as to leave his limbs free for struggling with the waves. And thus they awaited their doom. At length it came. The vessel was slowly lifted on a mighty wave, and dashed with a stupendous shock upon the sands; and in the same instant all were struggling for life in the black and furious waves.
Malcolm was a strong swimmer; but he never could explain, because he never knew, how he and his companion reached the shore that terrible night.
He only knew that while the black chaos still roared around him, he found himself high on the beach, stunned and exhausted, with the dripping and drowned form of Eudora in his arms.
Fishermen from the cliffs above were hurrying down with lanterns to render assistance to the shipwrecked mariners.
Two of these came towards him and with homely words of sympathy, took charge of him and his drowned Eudora, and bore them off to a cottage on the cliff.
“She is dead! quite dead!” moaned Malcolm, in a voice of despair that sounded like content, as he gazed upon the cold, still form that the fisherman’s wife had laid upon the rude cottage bed.
“Not she, sir; we’ll bring her to presently, if you’ll go in t’other room and leave her to us,” said the kind dame.
Malcolm turned into the kitchen, where the fisherman supplied him with a suit of dry clothes and a glass of brandy that had never lost its flavor by passing through the custom-house.
And then, while Malcolm sat before the kitchen fire, waiting anxiously to hear some report of Eudora’s state, the fisherman relighted his lantern and went out to see what further aid he could render to the sufferers. After an absence of half an hour he returned, and seating himself beside his guest, inquired:
“How many on you might ha’ been aboard that craft, master?”