"Well, Godfrey, do you want to go?" he asked the younger boy, who had
risen from the table, and was looking eagerly at him. "Of course you do;
but, mind, you must keep close to me.

"Ah, Father John!" he broke off, as an ecclesiastic, muffled up to the
throat in wrappings, entered the room. "Are you going down, too?"

"Assuredly I am, Fergus. You don't think a trifle of wind would keep me
from doing my duty?"

In another two minutes, the two men and Godfrey sallied out. They
staggered as the wind struck them, and Godfrey clung to his father's arm.
Not a word was spoken as they made their way down the steep descent to
the village, which consisted of about a dozen fishermen's huts. Indeed,
speaking would have been useless, for no word would have been heard above
the howling of the storm.

The vessel was visible to them, as they made their way down the hill. She
was a complete wreck. The light of the moon was sufficient for them to
see that she had, as the boy said, lost her foremast. Her sails were in
ribbons, and she was labouring heavily in the sea, each wave that struck
her breaking over her bows and sweeping along her deck. There was no hope
for her. She could neither tack nor wear, and no anchor would hold for a
moment on that rocky bottom, in such a sea.

On reaching the village, they joined a group of fishermen who were
standing under the shelter of the end of a cottage.

"Can nothing be done, Considine?" Mr. Davenant shouted, in the ear of one