We sprung to our feet and hastened down to the beach. On turning
the bluff which hid the mooring-place from our view, we found the
conjecture correct. Not only was the Dolphin afloat, but poor
little Binny Wallace was standing in the bows with his arms
stretched helplessly towards us--drifting out to sea!

"Head the boat inshore!" shouted Phil Adams.

Wallace ran to the tiller; but the slight cockle-shell merely swung
round and drifted broadside on. Oh, if we had but left a single
scull in the Dolphin!

"Can you swim it?" cried Adams desperately, using his hand as a
speaking-trumpet, for the distance between the boat and the island
widened momently.

Binny Wallace looked down at the sea, which was covered with white
caps, and made a despairing gesture. He knew, and we knew, that the
stoutest swimmer could not live forty seconds in those angry
waters.

A wild, insane light came into Phil Adam's eyes, as he stood knee-
deep in the boiling surf, and for an instant I think he meditated
plunging into the ocean after the receding boat.

The sky darkened, and an ugly look stole rapidly over the broken
surface of the sea.

Binny Wallace half rose from his seat in the stern, and waved his