was being pulled from the socket. A few seconds later he was lying at
full length upon the sands, and before the next wave reached him a dozen
men had rushed down and seized him and Malcolm, and carried them beyond
its influence. For a minute or two Ronald felt too bruised and out of
breath to move. Then he heard Malcolm's voice:

"Are you hurt, Ronald?"

"No; I think not, Malcolm," he replied, making an effort to sit up. "Are
you?"

"No, lad; bruised a bit, but no worse."

One by one the sailors were brought ashore, one with both legs broken
from the force with which he was dashed down by the surf, and one man who
stuck to the mast was crushed to death as it was rolled over and over on
to the beach. The captain and three sailors were, like Malcolm and
Ronald, unhurt. There still remained four men on the wreck. Fortunately
she had struck just at high tide, and so stoutly was she built that she
held together in spite of the tremendous seas, and in an hour the four
sailors were able to wade breast high to the shore.

They found that the spot where the vessel had struck was half a mile west
of Gravelines. They were taken to the town, and were hospitably
entertained. A small body of soldiers were quartered there, and the
officer in command told the Dutch skipper, that as the two nations were
at war he and his crew must be detained until he received orders
respecting them. On learning from Malcolm that he and Ronald were
passengers, and were Scotsmen making their way from England to escape
imprisonment as friends of the Stuarts, and that he had for twelve years