knowledge of the fleet, the same horror of darkness came rushing; wind
raved and screamed, and already a sea, indescribable in its appalling
fury, was raging into the bay, the crests, cut off as with a knife,
flying through the air like densest smoke. Rain scourged and blinded,
the driving spray lashed beyond bearing the faces of those who, dread in
their souls, peered through their sheltering hands, trying vainly to
penetrate the smother to windward. A few hundred yards of raging water,
a blurred vision of rushing, tumbling seas; tumultuous, deafening roar
of surf, the tortured scream of wind; and that was all. It was as if one
might try to gaze into the mouth of hell.

Then through this Hades of waters, rolling, tumbling, pitching, buried
almost in the breaking seas, into the bay came rushing three yawls,
manned by crab-fishers from St. Abb's, past the Hurcar Rock, and round
safely into the harbour; then a large Eyemouth fishing-boat, and
another, and another, and then a pause of sickening suspense, and two
more large boats from St. Abb's fought their way to safety. Men began
faintly to pluck up heart. If these had come out of the jaws of death,
why not the others? But now again they hoped with ever sinking hearts,
for minutes passed and there came no more. Then, even as they strained
their eyes despairingly, there came one into the bay that failed to get
far enough to windward. Down on the rock behind the breakwater she
drove, helpless, and went to pieces. Another took the same road, and
smashed to atoms almost at the pierhead, so near, and yet so far from
human aid, that the voices of both crews could be heard by the helpless,
distracted spectators--white-lipped men, wailing women, who clustered
there by the rocks in impotent agony. One struggling drowning man fought
hard--it is said that the outermost of a chain of rescuers once even
touched his hand. But no help was possible, no human power could have
drawn those helpless men from that raging cauldron; against such wind no