"The sea has swept him away," said the mate, sadly.
"Or dashed him against the rocks," added Wallbridge. "It will be the same with us in a short time. I didn't think the tide was up so far, or I should have known better than to land here."
"I would rather take my chance on the wreck," continued Mr. Carboy, who still held the painter of the boat. "I think it is moderating a little."
"Not much; but do you think we can get off in the whale-boat?" asked Wallbridge.
"We may but it is death to stay here ten minutes longer."
"That's true; for common tides rise to the foot of the rocks. We can't stand up much longer."
"Now's our time!" exclaimed the mate. "The wind lulls a little. It can't be any worse on the wreck than it is here."
The hurricane had certainly subsided a little, and with a vigorous effort the two stout men shoved the whale-boat down the steep declivity into the deep water. Keeping her head to the sea, with the oars in their hands they leaped into the boat as a receding billow carried her far out from the beach.
"Now, give way!" cried the mate; and with lusty strokes they pulled against the advancing sea.
The boat was light, and the two rowers were powerful men, thoroughly experienced in the handling of boats under the most trying circumstances. They succeeded in getting clear of the beach, however, only by the favoring lull of the tempest. They pulled dead to windward, for Mr. Carboy dared not risk the boat in the trough of the sea, even for a moment. This direction brought them, after a desperate pull, to the wreck of the Waldo, only the forward part of which remained. This portion appeared to the mate to be wedged in between a couple of rocks, now hidden by the waves, for it did not rise and fall with the billows. He stated his belief to Wallbridge, and they agreed that the wreck would be the safest place for them. The passenger spoke of a good harbor but a short distance to the northward, but Mr. Carboy declared that the whale-boat would be swamped in the attempt to reach it.