"This one is not dead," said the priest, when they had turned the
man over and dragged him to dry land. Belfort cut away the life-
belt, examining it as he did so.

"No name," he said. "They will have to wait over there in London,
till he can tell them what ship it was. See, he has been struck on
the head. But he is alive--a marvel."

He looked up, meeting the priest's eyes, and, remembering his words
spoken under the lee of the wall of the Hotel de la Plage, he
laughed as a fencer may laugh who has been touched beyond doubt by a
skilful adversary.

"He is a small-made man and light enough to carry--some town mouse
this, my father--who has never had a wet jacket before--see his face
how white it is, and his little arms and hands. We can carry him,
turn and turn about, and shall reach the sea-wall before the tide is
up, provided we find no more."

It was full daylight when they at length reached the weed-grown
steps at the side of the sea-wall, and the smoke was already
beginning to rise from the chimneys of Yport. The gale was waning
as the day came, but the sea was at its highest, and all the houses
facing northward had their wooden shutters up. The waves were
breaking over the sea-wall, but the two men with their senseless
burden took no heed of it. They were all past thinking of salt
water.

In answer to their summons, the Mother Senneville came hastily