The lifeboat was in the harbour once again, and a ringing burst of cheers, that seemed smothered directly after by the roar of the storm, greeted the crew as they rowed up to the landing-place, utterly exhausted, but bringing with them two half-dead members of the brig’s crew.
“All we could get to stir,” said the sturdy coxswain, “and we could not get aboard.”
“How many are there?”
“Seven, sir—in main-top. Half-dead.”
“You should have stayed and brought them off,” cried Leslie frantically, for he did not realise the difficulties of the task the men had had to fulfil.
“Who goes next?” cried Van Heldre, as the half-drowned men were borne, under the direction of the doctor, to the nearest inn.
“No one can’t go again, sir,” said the old coxswain sternly. “It aren’t to be done.”
“A crew must go again,” cried Van Heldre. “We cannot stand here and let them perish before our eyes. Here, my lads!” he roared. “Volunteers!”
“Mr Leslie! My father,” whispered Madelaine; but the young mine-owner was already on his way to where Van Heldre stood.
“Do you hear?” roared the latter. “Do as you would be done by. Volunteers!”