Jem Millar hastened down to the pier with his arms full of rope.
'All right, Jem, my lad,' said my grandfather. 'Let's be off; I think we may manage it now.'
So we jumped into the boat, and put off from the pier. It was a fearful struggle with the wind and waves, and for a long time we seemed to make no way against them. Both the men were much exhausted, and Jem Millar seemed ready to give in.
'Cheer up, Jem, my lad,' said my grandfather; 'think of all the poor fellows out there. Let's have one more try!'
So they made a mighty effort, and the pier was left a little way behind. Slowly, very slowly, we made that distance greater; slowly, very slowly, Mrs. Millar, who was standing on the shore, faded from our sight, and the masts of the ship in distress seemed to grow a little more near. Yet the waves were still fearfully strong, and appeared ready, every moment, to swallow up our little boat. Would my grandfather and Millar ever be able to hold on till they reached the ship, which was still more than two miles away?
'What's that?' I cried, as I caught sight of a dark object, rising and falling with the waves.
'It's a boat, surely!' said my grandfather 'Look, Jem!
CHAPTER III.
THE BUNDLE SAVED.