"Impossible," replied Atherton. "It is hopeless to attempt to swim against such a sea."
"What is to be done?" asked Phillips. "We cannot stand here and let those fellows drown before our eyes."
Atherton shook his head. All that was humanly possible for them to do had been done. He knew that it was not the first time by any means that men had been drowned in full view of their would-be rescuers.
"Forepeak's full o' water," announced the last of the saved crew. "That's where there's many a coil o' rope."
"Couldn't they dive for it or fish it up with a boathook?" asked Atherton.
"Maybe they haven't thought o' that, sir," was the reply.
"Tell them to make another attempt to find a rope," ordered Atherton. "Failing that, their only chance is to jump overboard and trust that they lay hold of the ropes we lower to them."
But before Phillips could send the signal, Tom Mayne gave vent to a loud shout.
"Look! Look!" he exclaimed, pointing seaward. "The lifeboat!"
The Scout was right. Riding lightly over the mountainous seas was the red-white-and-blue painted lifeboat from Gwyll Cove. Under sail she stood down till within a cable's length of the wreck. To approach closer under sail or oars would be fatal, for the heavy seas would carry the craft upon the jagged rocks.