'There she is again, Alick! Poor things! I wonder how many of them there is.'
'Can we do nothing at all?' I asked again.
'No, my lad,' he said; 'the sea's too much for us. It's a terrible night. It puts me in mind of the day you were born.'
So the night wore away. We never thought of going to bed, but walked up and down the pier, with our eyes fixed on the place where we had seen the lights. Every now and then, for some hours, rockets were sent up; and then they ceased, and we saw nothing.
'They've got no more with them,' said my grandfather. 'Poor things! it's a terrible bad job.'
'What's wrong with them, grandfather?' I asked. 'Are there rocks over there?'
'Yes, there's the Ainslie Crag just there; it's a nasty place that—a very nasty place. Many a fine ship has been lost there!'
At last the day began to dawn; a faint grey light spread over the sea. We could distinguish now the masts of a ship in the far distance. 'There she is, poor thing!' said my grandfather, pointing in the direction of the ship. 'She's close on Ainslie Crag—I thought so!'
'The wind's gone down a bit now, hasn't it?' I asked.
'Yes, and the sea's a bit stiller just now,' he said. 'Give Jem a call, Alick.'