Ned Garth | Page 2

it wouldn't do to tumble down. I cannot spare you, my boy."
While the lieutenant was shouting out these latter sentences, Edward,
eager to obey his uncle's directions, had got to a considerable distance;
he, however, very soon came back.
"I met one of the men, uncle," he said, "and he went on to the station

faster than I could in the dark, as he knows the short cuts."
"Come along then, we'll keep an eye on the brig as we walk
homeward," said the lieutenant. "I pray that after all she may claw off
the land, although she will have a hard job to do it."
The old officer and the boy proceeded on the way they had previously
been pursuing. They had gone some distance when they saw a light
approaching them.
"Now, if my sister Sally hasn't sent Tom to look for us, or I am much
mistaken," he exclaimed to himself rather than to his companion. "Poor
soul! she's been in a precious quandary at our not returning sooner, and
has been fancying that we shall be melted by the rain, or carried off the
cliffs by the wind, though it blows directly on them."
The lieutenant was right in his conjectures; in another minute a voice
was heard shouting, "Dat you, Massa Pack an' Massa Ned?"
"Aye, aye," answered the lieutenant; "keep your lantern shaded from
the sea, or it may be mistaken for a signal."
Directly afterwards a tall figure could be discerned coming towards
him. "Missie Sarah in drea'ful way, cos you an' Massa Ned not come
back when de wind an' rain kick up such a hulabaloo," said the same
voice which had before spoken.
The lieutenant explained the cause of their delay, and bade Tom hasten
back and tell his mistress that they would soon be at home, but were
anxious to ascertain the fate of a vessel they had discovered closer
in-shore than she should be. "Beg her not to be alarmed; and, Tom, you
come back with a coil of rope and a couple of oars from the boat-house.
We may not want them, for I hope the coast-guard men will be up to
the spot in time to help, should the craft unfortunately come ashore, but
it is just as well to be prepared to render assistance in case of need."
Tom, handing the lantern to the boy, hurried back to execute the orders
he had received, the lieutenant and his young companion following at a

slower pace. The fast increasing darkness had now completely shut out
the brig from sight. When last perceived, however, her head was
pointed in a direction which, could she maintain, she might weather the
rocks under her lee. Presently the loud report of a gun was heard
sounding high above the roar of the seas which broke on the shore.
"That was fearfully near," observed Edward.
"It was indeed," said the lieutenant. "I hope that it will hurry Hanson
and his men. The master of the brig has discovered his danger. There is
no chance of her escaping, I fear."
"I can see her!" cried the boy; "one of her top-masts has gone, she's
drifting bodily on shore."
"Poor fellows! with a heavy sea beating on it; unless she's a stout craft,
she'll knock to pieces in a few minutes," observed the lieutenant. "We'll
go down to the beach and try what help we can render."
A zig-zag pathway, well known to both of them, led downwards
through an opening in the cliff, a short distance from the spot they had
reached. The lieutenant and his nephew followed it without hesitation,
the former leading and feeling the way with his stick, for it required
care to avoid slipping over, and an ugly fall might have been the
consequence of a false step. They reached the bottom, however, in
safety; and as they hurried along the shingly beach, straining their eyes
to discover the whereabouts of the hapless brig, another and another
gun was heard, the loud reports rapidly succeeding the bright flashes,
showing the nearness of the vessel. The whistling of the wind and the
roaring of the waves overpowered all other sounds. They listened for
another gun, but listened in vain.
"I feared it would be so," exclaimed the lieutenant; "she must have
struck already."
"Yes, yes, I see a dark mass surrounded by foam; that must he her, and
not fifty yards off," cried Ned. As he spoke he could distinguish, in
imagination at all events, amid the wild foaming waters, the crash of

timbers, and hear the cries of the hapless crew imploring assistance. For
an instant, too, he fancied that he saw a smaller object floating on the
snowy crests of the waves, but before he could be certain that it