BRAVE EONAYNE. 259 



The family at Killeton Farm little suspected, as they went to their humble beds, 

 the tragedy which was being- enacted on the shore : and even when some of the boys thought 

 they heard cries of distress, little wonder when the wind was blowing in great fitful gusts, 

 sweeping round the homely cottage, shaking windows and doors, and moaning down the 

 chimneys that, after listening a while and hearing nothing further, they thought no more 

 of the cries, and went to bed. Ronayne had, however, not been long in bed when a loud 

 knocking awoke him, and he jumped up, and on opening the door was accosted by three 

 men in sailor's garb. 



The first surprise over, the instincts of hospitality asserted themselves, and he heaped 

 up the turf fire, and, as they warmed themselves, learned that they alone of the crew of 

 the Gwenissa, nine in number, were certainly saved. But there was a possibility that 

 one or two might yet survive ; and though the wintry blast roared loud without, Ronayne 

 lingered not a moment. Hurrying on his clothes, and taking a large sod of flaming 

 turf by way of lantern, he rushed down the "boreen," and soon reached the cove. Cautiously 

 he made his way, and approached the edge of the stream, whence he now heard the shouts 

 of several men. He followed up the cries of distress, and soon came upon a man in a most 

 dangerous position. 



Ronayne blew the turf until it glowed brightly, and, holding it down, saw a man 

 waist-deep in the water, but so jammed between the crags that it was impossible for him 

 to move, far less climb the overhanging rocks. He was bruised, stunned, and nearly 

 insensible. Ronayne saw at a glance that the only way to help him was himself to go 

 down, extricate his bruised legs from the rocks and wreck that held him like a vice, and 

 then assist him to climb from his perilous position. This, by means of much pulling 

 and hauling, he at length accomplished, and ultimately had the satisfaction of leading 

 the poor fellow to a place of safety, where, for a time, he left him, sorely bruised, 

 faint, and well-nigh frozen, for the others, who had never ceased calling for assistance 

 from the moment of his arrival. They were four in number, and, as far as could be 

 judged through the increasing darkness, lay in the very gorge down which rushed the 

 swollen stream; and so it proved, for one' was hanging to a spar which had become 

 fixed in the rocks, while another was grasping a projecting crag, by which he con- 

 trived to keep afloat. The others, more fortunate, had been thrown on a ledge, which 

 left them in comparative safety, though they were waist-deep in water. But though 

 secure upon this ledge, they were quite as helpless as their companions, for the beetling 

 face of the rocks defied their utmost efforts to scale them unaided. Here Ronayne's 

 knowledge stood him in good stead, and after much active assistance in the shape of 

 climbing, swimming, pulling, and scrambling, he succeeded in rescuing one after the other, 

 each assisting afterwards to make the task easier. Five men stood beside him, cold and 

 hurt, but saved by his perseverance and bravery from a watery grave. 



" But," says the narrator and here especially he should tell his own tale " not 

 without great labour had this been effected, for one of the men had his leg broken, 

 and all were more or less bruised, and perishing of cold and exposure. Three men 

 were at his house and five here; but where was the other? for nine men were on 

 board the luckless vessel, and here were but eight. Leaving the rescued men in the 



