'There's something wrong out there,' said he, pointing to the place
where we had seen the light. 'That's the flare they always make when
they're in danger and want help at once.'

'Are you going to them, grandfather?' I said.

'Yes, if we can get the boat out,' he said. 'Now, Jem, are you ready?'

'Let me go with you, grandfather,' I said; 'I might be able to help.'

'All right, my lad,' he said; 'we'll try if we can get her off.'

I can see that scene with my mind's eye as though it were but yesterday.
My grandfather and Mr. Millar straining every nerve to row the boat from
land, whilst I clung on to one of the seats, and tried in vain to steer
her. I can see poor Mrs. Millar standing on the pier, with her shawl
over her head, watching us, and two of her little girls clinging to her
dress. I can see the waves, which seemed to be rising higher every
moment, and ready to beat our little boat to pieces. And I can see my
grandfather's disappointed face, as, after many a fruitless attempt, he
was obliged to give it up.

'It's no use, I'm afraid, Jem,' he said at last; 'we haven't hands
enough to manage her.'

So we got to shore as best we could, and paced up and down the little
pier. We could see nothing more. It was a very dark night, and all was
perfect blackness over the sea.

The lighthouse lamps were burning brightly; they had been lighted more