As Bob spoke, he handed the rope to the little boy; but, in doing so, let it accidentally slip out of his hand.

“Catch hold o’ the main chains, Martin,—­quick!”

But Martin was too late.  The current that swept out of the harbour whirled the light punt away from the ship’s side, and carried it out seaward.  Martin instantly sprang to the oar, and turned the boat’s head round.  He was a stout and expert rower, and would soon have regained the ship; but the wind increased at the moment, and blew in a squall off shore, which carried him further out despite his utmost efforts.  Seeing that all further attempts were useless, Martin stood up and waved his hand to Bob Croaker, shouting as he did so, “Never mind, Bob, I’ll make for the South Point.  Run round and meet me, and we’ll row back together.”

The South Point was a low cape of land which stretched a considerable distance out to sea, about three miles to the southward of Bilton harbour.  It formed a large bay, across which, in ordinary weather, a small boat might be rowed in safety.  Martin Rattler was well known at the sea-port as a strong and fearless boy, so that no apprehension was entertained for his safety by those who saw him blown away.  Bob Croaker immediately started for the Point on foot, a distance of about four miles by land; and the crew of the Firefly were so busied with their stranded vessel that they took no notice of the doings of the boys.

But the weather now became more and more stormy.  Thick clouds gathered on the horizon.  The wind began to blow with steady violence, and shifted a couple of points to the southward; so that Martin found it impossible to keep straight for the Point.  Still he worked perseveringly at his single oar, and sculled rapidly over the sea; but, as he approached the Point, he soon perceived that no effort of which he was capable could enable him to gain it.  But Martin’s heart was stout.  He strove with all the energy of hope, until the Point was passed; and then, turning the head of his little boat towards it, he strove with all the energy of despair, until he fell down exhausted.  The wind and tide swept him rapidly out to sea; and when his terrified comrade reached the Point, the little boat was but a speck on the seaward horizon.

Well was it then for Martin Rattler that a friendly heart beat for him on board the Firefly, Bob Croaker carried the news to the town; but no one was found daring enough to risk his life out in a boat on that stormy evening.  The little punt had been long out of sight ere the news reached them, and the wind had increased to a gale.  But Barney O’Flannagan questioned Bob Croaker closely, and took particular note of the point of the compass at which Martin had disappeared; and when the Firefly at length got under weigh, he climbed to the fore-top cross-trees, and stood there scanning the horizon with an anxious eye.

It was getting dark, and a feeling of despair began to creep over the seaman’s heart as he gazed round the wide expanse of water, on which nothing was to be seen except the white foam that crested the rising billows.