“Hooray!” came again, as Dick stood clinging to Uncle Abram’s arm, the old man having left the stone, and standing close beside the men who hauled the cradle gear.
Short as the distance was, not a glimpse of the ship could be seen, for every wave that broke upon the rock rose in a fountain of spray, to mingle with the blinding drift and mist of foam. But all the time their eyes were strained towards the rock upon which the ship had struck, and along the reef that the venturesome boat’s crew had made the shelter which resulted in the saving of some of the poor creatures upon the wreck.
All at once, when a horrible feeling of despair had settled upon all present, there was a sharp twitch given to the line, the signal for it to be hauled, just at a time too when Josh had turned away, giving Dick a piteous look, and then gone to lean his head upon his arm against the rock.
That cheer which came as the rope was twitched seemed to send life and activity back to Josh, who dashed in among the knot of men at the rope.
“Here, let me come,” he shouted; “let me have a hand in bringing him ashore. Hurray! Master Dick, hurray! he’s saved, he’s saved!”
Was he?
The men hauled as rapidly as was consistent with safety, till the cradle with its occupant was dragged right up on to the rock, where a dozen hands were ready to lift the drooping, insensible figure out, and pour brandy between its lips.
Will opened his eyes at this and stared wildly for a few moments; then a knowledge of his position seemed to come to him, and he smiled and raised one hand.
At that moment there was a shout and the cable of the cradle gear seemed to hang loose, and the sea end to be moving shoreward, while the man with the glass shouted:
“She’s gone to pieces, lads; that last wave lifted her, and then she melted right away.”