distinguished as she rose and fell on the waters. Suddenly she seemed
to become motionless, though quivering in every fibre, and then a huge
wave washed clean over her decks.

'She has struck on the Mistral Rock,' said Pierre. 'Good! she will be
in pieces in an hour, and every atom will come on shore!'

'They are putting out the boats,' observed Jean.

The wreckers clutched their weapons. If the crew landed in safety,
their hopes were gone. But no crew had for many years landed in safety
on that part of the coast: by some mysterious fatality, they had
always perished.

Presently, three boats were observed pulling for the shore, and coming
towards the sandy beach at the mouth of the gorge. They were evidently
crammed full of people, and pulling all for one point. The boats
approached: they were within fifty yards of the shore, and pulling
still abreast. They had entered the narrow gut of water leading to the
gorge, and were already out of reach of the huge waves, which a minute
before threatened to submerge them. The wreckers extinguished the
lantern on the cow's horn. There was no chance of the boats being able
to put back to sea.

Suddenly a figure pushed through the crowd, and approached the fire
near which Pierre Sandeau stood. It appeared to be one of the
wreckers; but the voice, that almost whispered in the old man's ear,
made him start.

'Father!' said Madeleine, in a low solemn voice, 'what are you about