A sudden lurch of the boat almost pitched the old man forward, and the children's screams redoubled, while Mrs. Coomber hastily scrambled out of bed and lighted the lantern that hung against the wall.
"What are yer going to do?" asked her husband, in some surprise; "women ain't no good in such work as this."
"What are you going to do?" asked Mrs. Coomber, almost crying herself; "the boat will soon be adrift with this wind and tide, and we shall all be drowned like rats in a hole."
"Nay, nay, old woman, the boat was made taut enough before I brought you here, and you think she wouldn't have broke away before this if she was going to do it? Don't be a stupid lubber," he added.
"But the children, Coomber, the children. I ain't afraid for myself," said the mother, with a sob.
"Well, well, the old boat'll hold the boys for many a day yet," said the fisherman; "you go in and stop their noise, while I get help for the poor souls that are surely perishing out there."
"But what can you do for them?" asked his wife; "there ain't a boat besides ours at Bermuda Point, nor a man to help you manage it besides Bob."
"No, no; Bob and I couldn't manage the boat in such a sea as this; but he shall go with me to Fellness. Bob! Bob!" called his father, in the same breath.
"Aye, aye," came an answering shout from the adjoining cabin.
"Slip into your things as quick as you can; we must be off to Fellness; there's a ship out there on the bar sands."