“Some boat has been lost, hasn’t there?” cried Dick, excitedly.
“Saint Ives boat, we think,” said Will; “and a timber ship has been wrecked somewhere out Lizard way. There’ll be a lot of balks and planks come ashore, the men think.”
“I say, Will, is it often as bad as this?” said Arthur eagerly.
“Yes, sir, very often,” replied Will. “Old Pollard thinks it will be worse to-night. I should go down to yonder house, sir, if I was you; the young gentlemen would be more in shelter, and you could see the wreck wood come in and the men draw it up, better there, for it’s nearer to the sea.”
“How do you know it will come there?” said Dick hastily.
“The current. Tide washes it up. We always find wreck come about there.”
Will hurried away, his mission being to fetch another boat-hook; and taking the hint, Mr Temple and his boys made a dash across the rock and sand to the pilchard-house further east, the wind blowing in a furious squall now, and just as they were half-way, battling against the spray that cut their faces till they tingled, their numbers were diminished one third, though Mr Temple did not know it, and then two thirds.
He had bidden his boys follow him closely, and then with bent head run forward, Dick and Arthur following as fast as their stiff clumsy garb would allow; but just as they were half-way and were caught by the full force of the gale, Arthur, who was last, made a swerve, gave way a little more and a little more, and then was literally carried shoreward by the gale in a staggering run, for he had found it impossible to resist its force.
“Don’t it blow!” panted Dick. “Lean your head over towards it, Taff, and then it won’t cut your face. Come along.”
He spoke loudly, but every word was swept away by the wind; and if sounds do not melt away, his were taken straight over England and the North Sea to Denmark, and then over the Baltic to the Russ’s land.