Gradually the tide rose.

"Pump away, Ruby! Keep the pot bilin', my boy," said the smith.

"The wind blowin', you mean. I say, Dove, do the other men like the
work here?"

"Like it, ay, they like it well. At first we were somewhat afraid o'
the landin' in rough weather, but we've got used to that now. The
only bad thing about it is in the rolling o' that horrible _Pharos_.
She's so bad in a gale that I sometimes think she'll roll right over
like a cask. Most of us get sick then, but I don't think any of 'em
are as bad as me. They seem to be gettin' used to that too. I wish I
could. Another blow, Ruby."

"Time's up," shouted one of the men.

"Hold on just for a minute or two," pleaded the smith, who, with his
assistant, was by this time standing nearly knee-deep in water.

The sea had filled the pit some time before, and driven the men out
of it. These busied themselves in collecting the tools and seeing
that nothing was left lying about, while the men who were engaged on
those parts of the rocks that were a few inches higher, continued
their labours until the water crept up to them. Then they collected
their tools, and went to the boats, which lay awaiting them at the
western landing-place.

"Now, Dove," cried the landing-master, "come along; the crabs will be