"That was a sharp blow. I'm an old Barnegat woman, an' I've known no such cutters as that. But he'll come. I'm expectin' my boy to-night, young woman. I'm goin' to the beach now to wait for him,—for Derrick."
In spite of the queer old face peering out from the yellow sun-bonnet, with its flabby wrinkles and nut-cracker jaws, there was a fine, delicate meaning in the smile with which she waved her hand down to the stormy beach.
"What's that?" said Doctor Dennis, starting up, and holding his hand behind his ear. His sandy face grew pale.
"I heard nothing," said Mary.
The next moment she caught a dull thud in the watery distance, as if some pulse of the night had throbbed feverishly.
Bow-legged Phil started to his feet.
"It's the gun of the Chief! Van Note's goin' down!" he cried, with a horrible oath, and hobbled off, followed by the other men.
"His little brother Benny be on her," said Joe. "May God have mercy on their souls!"
He had climbed like a cat to the rafters, and thrown down two or three cables and anchors, and, putting them over his shoulders, started soberly for the beach, stopping to look at Miss Defourchet, crouched on the floor of the store.
"You'd best see after her, Doctor. Ropes is all we can do for 'em. No boat ud live in that sea, goin' out."