Nancy hurried to the shore where lay her little boat, and several fishermen were gathered about the dock.
"Girl," said one, a hardy sailor who had been on the lakes in the roughest weather, "no boat would live now to reach the reef. Better wait till your father returns."
"But if some ship, unable to clear the land with this ingale, should be obliged to run for the harbour, she could never enter without the light."
"I was on the look-out a few moments ago, and there was nothing in sight. But, even if there was, it would be madness to launch a boat now. Look at these seas!"
The whole face of the gulf between the reef and the shore was a wilderness of raging water. The fisherman had hardly ceased speaking, when another of the coast people was seen hurrying down from the look-out.
"There is a ship about eight miles to the sou'west, with canvas close hauled; but I don't think that she will be able to weather the point."
"If she cannot, then she must run for the harbour, and there will be no light," Nancy exclaimed; and the colour faded out of her brown cheek. Then borrowing a telescope from one of the fishermen, she set out for the top of the look-out. While she held the glass in her trembling hands she saw the ship wear and turn her head toward the harbour. Gathering her plaid shawl hastily about her shoulders, she ran down the steep and returned to the dock.
"The ship is running for the harbour, and there must be a light. Here, help me to launch my boat."
"Is the girl mad!" two or three voices exclaimed at once.
"Girl," said the old man who had spoken before, "no small boat that ever swam can reach yonder ledge now. Why do you want to throw away your life? It cannot save the ship."