"Look, sir, she's coming in fast. She draws a power of water, and she
will strike in a minute or two."

"She seems crowded with men. Can nothing be done to help them?" the
priest asked.

"Nothing, your reverence. Praying for them is the only thing that can
help the poor sowls now."

"You are sure it's not possible to launch a boat, Considine?"

"Look for yourself, yer honour. There's not a boat on the coast that
could get through them breakers."

"There she goes."

Even above the noise of the storm, a loud cry was heard, and the crash of
breaking timber as, with the shock, the main and mizzen masts, weakened
by the loss of the foremast, went over the sides. The next great wave
drove the vessel forward two or three fathoms.

"That's her last move," Considine said. "The rocks will be through her
bottom, now."

"They are off," a boy shouted, running up.

"Who are off?" Considine asked.

"The young squire and Larry Doolan."