At that old Jemmy nodded his head very gravely, and old Juan held on to the lever handles; and through those precious minutes when the crew of the schooner were fighting in the grip of death in the darkness, these three old men, their nearest fellow creatures, half dead, half blind, were held in the grip of superstitious fears.
"There again," cried old Juan; and through the door that he had left open the cry came in above roar of wind and sea.
"It's men that's yander," said old Jemmy.
"Ay," said old Danny.
"Maybe it's a ship on the Carick," said old Juan.
"Let's away and look," said old Jemmy.
And then the three helpless old men, trembling and affrighted, straining their dim eyes to see and their deaf ears to hear, and clinging to each other's hands like little children, groped their slow way to the beach. Down there the cries were louder than they had been on the brows above.
"Mercy me, let's away to Lague for the boys," said old Juan; and leaving behind them the voices that cried for help, the old men trudged and stumbled through the dark lanes.
Lague was asleep, but the old men knocked, and the windows were opened and night-capped heads thrust through. Very soon the house and courtyard echoed with many footsteps, and the bell over the porch rang out through the night, to call up the neighbors far and near.
Ross and Stean and Thurstan were the first to reach the shore, and there they found the crew of the Peveril landed—every man safe and sound, but drenching wet with the water they had passed through to save their lives. The schooner was still on the Carick, much injured already, plunging with every hurling sea on to the sharp teeth of the shoal beneath her, and going to pieces fast. And now that help seemed to be no more needed the people came flocking down in crowds—the Fairbrothers, with Greeba, and all their men and maids, Kane Wade the Methodist, with Chalse A'Killey, who had been sleeping the night at his house, Nary Crowe, and Matt Mylechreest and old Coobragh. And while Davy Kerruish shook the salt water from his sou'wester, and growled out to them with an oath that they had been a plaguy long time coming, and the skipper bemoaned the loss of his ship, and the men of their kits, Chalse was down on his knees on the beach, lifting up his crazy, cracked voice in loud thanksgiving. At that the growling ended, and then Asher Fairbrother, who had been the last to come, invited the ship-broken men to Lague, and all together they turned to follow him.