'Let me go with you, grandfather,' I said; 'I might be able to help.'
'All right, my lad,' he said; 'we'll try if we can get her off.'
I can see that scene with my mind's eye as though it were but yesterday. My grandfather and Mr. Millar straining every nerve to row the boat from land, whilst I clung on to one of the seats, and tried in vain to steer her. I can see poor Mrs. Millar standing on the pier, with her shawl over her head, watching us, and two of her little girls clinging to her dress. I can see the waves, which seemed to be rising higher every moment, and ready to beat our little boat to pieces. And I can see my grandfather's disappointed face, as, after many a fruitless attempt, he was obliged to give it up.
'It's no use, I'm afraid, Jem,' he said at last; 'we haven't hands enough to manage her.'
So we got to shore as best we could, and paced up and down the little pier. We could see nothing more. It was a very dark night, and all was perfect blackness over the sea.
The lighthouse lamps were burning brightly; they had been lighted more than two hours before. It was Millar's turn to watch, so he went up to the tower, and my grandfather and I remained on the pier.
'Can nothing be done, grandfather?'
'I'm afraid not, my lad. We can't make any way against such a sea as this; if it goes down a bit, we'll have another try at it.'
But the sea did not go down. We walked up and down the pier almost in silence.
Presently a rocket shot up into the sky, evidently from the same place where we had seen the flare.