“Mind, mind!” cried Dick excitedly; “the wave! the wave!”
Arthur gave a gasp and ran right out towards where the figure, fully a hundred yards away, was clinging to something that looked brown against the white foam, and apparently heedless of the fact that a tremendous wave was racing in.
His comrade saw it though and ran to his help, catching hold of the great brown tangle, and then turning with the other to escape.
They hardly did it, for the huge wave curled over just behind them with a boom like thunder, and swept them up towards the shore amidst the foam.
They would have been carried back, but a dozen hands were outstretched and they and their prize were run up out of danger, where, for the next ten minutes, the little party were busy hauling in what proved to be an immense length of pilchard drift-net, with its corks, and buoys, and ropes, which formed a goodly heap when they had done.
Out seaward there was nothing visible but the tossing waves, and it was with a sense of relief that the boys saw that there was no prospect of any wreck beyond that of the fishing-boat that had been dashed to pieces upon some rock.
“Here! hi!” cried Dick, excitedly. “Why, it’s Will! Was it you who ran in after that net?” he continued, as the lad came up.
“Yes, Master Dick; Josh helped me,” said Will, smiling. “There’s two or three hundred fathom.”
“But was it not very risky, my lad?” said Mr Temple, shouting like the others, for the noise made by the sea was deafening.
“Risky, sir? Oh! you mean the waves! There were plenty there to lend a hand, and if we’d been caught they’d have thrown us a rope,” said Will, simply.