"Andy, have you seen Jim?"
"Jim who?"
"Jim Anderson."
"Was he the chap that went out in the Daisy Bell about four hours ago?"
"Yes," said Wilf, trying to control himself, "and he wanted me to go with him, but——"
His words were cut short by a great wave that hurled itself against the wall. The spray leapt high over the stones and drenched Andy and the boy.
"It's lucky ye didn't go, boy," said Andy, solemnly. "We're watchin' for the boat now. My brother was on her, and two cousins o' my wife. She was a little craft, and a leaky one. We were goin' to patch her up an' make her fit. But we waited too long. An' now——" He drew his rough sleeve across his eyes.
The wind howled round their ears and the hail was smiting and stinging as though the storm had a devilish mind to drive them away.
"Why don't you go out in a boat and get them?" pleaded Wilf.
Andy shook his head. "It ain't that we're afraid," he said. "But there ain't a boat we have here that could ride those waves. The coast-guard tried—and now look!" He pointed to a heap of broken, white-painted timbers lying in the roadway, half-hidden from them by the whooping blizzard that threw its dizzying veils of snow before their eyes.