of the current.

From a shealing of turf and straw, within the pitch of a bar from the
spot where we stood, came out an old woman bent with age, and leaning on
a crutch. "I heard the voice of that lad Andrew Lammie; can the chield
be drowning that he skirls sae uncannily?" said the old woman, seating
herself on the ground, and looking earnestly at the water. "Ou, ay," she
continued, "he's doomed, he's doomed; heart and hand can never save him;
boats, ropes, and man's strength and wit, all vain! vain!--he's doomed,
he's doomed!"

By this time I had thrown myself into the shallop, followed reluctantly
by Richard Faulder, over whose courage and kindness of heart superstition
had great power, and with one push from the shore, and some exertion in
sculling, we came within a quoitcast of the unfortunate fisherman. He
stayed not to profit by our aid; for, when he perceived us near, he
uttered a piercing shriek of joy, and bounded towards us through the
agitated element the full length of an oar. I saw him for a second on
the surface of the water, but the eddying current sucked him down; and
all I ever beheld of him again was his hand held above the flood, and
clutching in agony at some imaginary aid. I sat gazing in horror on the
vacant sea before us; but a breathing-time before, a human being, full of
youth and strength and hope, was there; his cries were still ringing in
my ears, and echoing in the woods; and now nothing was seen or heard save
the turbulent expanse of water, and the sound of its chafing on the
shores. We pushed back our shallop, and resumed our station on the cliff
beside the old mariner and his descendant.

"Wherefore sought ye to peril your own lives fruitlessly," said Mark, "in
attempting to save the doomed? Whoso touches those infernal ships never