OIL ON THE TROUBLED WATERS. 17; 



of despair of others ! " Oh my man, my gude, kind 

 man ! I'll never see him more ! " cried one. " Faether, 

 faether ! will ye never never come back again ? " ex- 

 claimed a blooming girl, whose cheek was blanched 

 enough now. " My boy — my Willie ! Oh the cruel 

 cruel sea ! " moaned a poor widow whose only son was 

 one of that boat's crew. And indeed it seemed to all 

 of us but too probable that our worst fears would be 

 realised. The storm continued unabated. The great 

 waves were dashing against the rocks in angry fury, 

 sending the spray right over us. Most of the men 

 were sad and silent. Some of them were doing their 

 best to keep alive the hope they too plainly did not 

 themselves cherish. One suggested : " They have 

 probably run a long way to seaward, and set their 

 lines, and have stayed perhaps rather too long in their 

 endeavours to recover them before bearing up for the 

 land ; but no need as yet to fear the worst." Another 

 said : " Perhaps they have run to some other island 

 which they found easier of access." Another suggested : 

 " They are very possibly waiting outside till the slack 

 of the tide before attempting to cross the string." 



I turned to a fine stalwart young fisherman who 

 had often accompanied me on fishing and seal-hunting 

 expeditions, and whose courage and steadiness and 

 judgment I had not seldom proved in circumstances of 

 difficulty and danger. 



" What do you think ? " I whispered, as I kept 

 sweeping the horizon with my field-glass. 



" I don't know what to think," he answered. " She 



