"For God's sake, men, can't you do anything?"
"Anything!" repeated a man sadly, pointing his arm to the sheer inner wall of the reef. "What could mortal man do there?"
The inner side of the reef differed from the outer one in being much more regular and straight. It was a wall of low spires, with here and there an opening down to the water, through which the foam-mantled sea shot shafts of hissing water. No human hand or foot could rest upon any part of that inner wall now in view. Nothing grew or lived on the shoreward side of that reef; not weed or barnacle or mussel. There was nothing to rest on, nothing to cling to, nothing but the cold clean side of the pitiless grey stone.
"Can nothing be done? Can nothing be done?" asked the woman, wringing her hands helplessly. "Are my babies to be orphans, while you all stand idle there? If you can't do anything to save the men, you might in all decency turn your backs, and not let them see you with your hands in your pockets in front of their own doors, while they are drowning under your very eyes!"
The men drew aside from where the women stood, and held a brief council.
Meanwhile Cheyne hardly moved. He was sheltered from the full violence of the wind, but now and then a gust burst in upon him, striking him full in front. He could see all the figures on the deck, and he had heard the people say that the undersized man, with the fur-cap tied over his ears, was the great Duke, and the tall lank man behind him was the Marquis of Southwold. His thoughts ran:
What an extraordinary thing fate was! Here was he, as it were by a mere accident, awaiting the arrival of that yacht which for years had sought and found safety in this harbour, and, by an extraordinary coincidence, that yacht would never enter this harbour again.
For the first time in all his life he had formed the design of committing fatal violence upon a fellow human being, and here was that human being withheld from the sphere of his vengeance by an appalling disaster! Was this man to be snatched from his clutches now that he was in sight? Was there no means of rescuing this crew? There was a double source of regret in seeing those men helpless on the vessel, and these men helpless here. It was a pity to see the good and useful lives of the sailors in danger; and it was a pity that, after all, this man was about to escape his natural and most just vengeance.
After a somewhat lengthened council, the knot of fishermen broke up. It was plain they had come to the decision of making some effort on behalf of the unfortunate men in peril. Two men went immediately towards the cottages; each one entered his own. The man who came out first carried a long coil of light line, and when the other man, whose name was Bence, appeared, he had nothing on but his underclothing.
"Bravo, Bence!" cried the men, with a cheer.