The volleys of wind and the thunder of water had frightened the horses, and they stood trembling and cowed. The men had to let the boat slide down the grassy channel, which was, as it were, bevelled in the low bulge of the Point.
They had not long to wait. The brig suddenly came round, as though her helm had been put hard up.
"Rudder's gone," said one of the fishermen.
Sea after sea struck the vessel astern, and threatened to swamp her, but she managed always to shake herself. She came on like a cork that is rushed down a gutter by a shower, only giving a roll and going yard-arm under as cross-seas hit her.
At last she stopped.
"Touched," said one of the men.
But she rose again and lumbered yet a few yards forward. Then she beat herself heavily, and the next sea doubled clean over her.
"We can't do nothin', chaps. The coble winnot get two yards till she's over."
This came from the oldest fisherman.
"Oh! for Christ's sake, let's shove off," said my young student, clasping his hands. He was pale, and his eyes shone, as they always did when he was excited.