Suddenly the welcome sound of a human voice reached her ears.
"You'd best not go on, miss," said the voice; "the storm gets worse. Don't you venture nigh to the edge of the cliff; it aint safe."
Cecil looked up; a big, burly Jack tar was standing within an inch of her.
"I'm so glad I've met you," she said. "I must get to the coastguard station, without a moment's delay."
"Whatever for, miss?" said the man. "I don't believe you can," he added, "the storm's that fierce."
"I must," said Cecil; "it is a matter of life or death. There is a young lady drowning in one of the caves down by the sea, and my brother and another gentleman have gone up to the station to ask your men to lower the lifeboat."
"Whew!" said the sailor, drawing in his breath and emitting a long whistle; "those that go out to sea to-day do it with their eyes open. Why, no boat, lifeboat or not, would live in this gale half a minute, miss. Is it to help or hinder you want to reach the station? I've not been there for an hour or two. I say, miss, no lifeboat ought to put out to sea to-day."
"It is to prevent it—to prevent it," said Cecil. "It is because of my brother. I can't have him drowned. Oh, be quick! can't you help me to get to the station? He is so fearless, and——"
"Take my arm, miss," said the sailor.