"Courage! the boat is under way," Maurice cried out; "we are nearly
there."

And rounding a little point, we saw the light-house at last. The sloop
anchored a quarter of a mile from the shore, the water being shoal, and
Redmond took off her party by instalments.

"What the deuse was the matter with you at one time?" asked Jack
Parker. "We saw you were having a sort of convulsion. Our cap'n said
you were bold chaps to be trifling with such a top-heavy boat."

"Miss Denham," said Redmond, "thought she could steer the boat as well
as I could, and so the boat lost headway."

Harry Lothrop gave Redmond one of his soft smiles, and a vexed look
passed over Redmond's face when he saw it.

We had to scramble over a low range of rocks to get to the shore.
Redmond anchored his boat by one of them. Bird Island was a famous
place for parties. It was a mile in extent. Not a creature was on it
except the light-house keeper, his wife, and daughter. The gulls made
their nests in its rocky borders; their shrill cries, the incessant
dashing of the waves on the ledges, and the creaking of the lantern in
the stone tower were all the sounds the family heard, except when they
were invaded by some noisy party like ours. They were glad to see us.
The light-house keeper went into the world only when it was necessary
to buy stores, or when his wife and daughter wanted to pay a visit to
the mainland.