We were sitting quietly at our tea, planning what we would do the next day, when the door suddenly opened and Mr. Millar put his head in.
'Sandy, quick!' he said. 'Look here!' My grandfather and I ran to the door, and looked out over the sea. There, about three miles to the north of us, we saw a bright flare of light. It blazed up for a moment or two, lighting up the wild and stormy sky, and then it went out, and all was darkness again.
'What is it, grandfather?' I asked. But he did not answer me.
'There's no time to lose, Jem,' he said; "out with the boat, my man!"
'It's an awful sea,' said Millar, looking at the waves beating fiercely against the rocks.
'Never mind, Jem,' said my grandfather; 'we must do our best.' So the two men went down to the shore, and I followed them.
'What is it, grandfather?' I asked again.
'There's something wrong out there,' said he, pointing to the place where we had seen the light. 'That's the flare they always make when they're in danger and want help at once.'
'Are you going to them, grandfather?' I said.
'Yes, if we can get the boat out,' he said. 'Now, Jem, are you ready?'