The instant the boat was overturned, Ruby darted towards one of the rock boats which lay near to the spot where the party of workmen who manned it had landed that morning.  Wilson, the landing-master, was at his side in a moment.

“Shove off, lad, and jump in!” cried Wilson.

There was no need to shout for the crew of the boat.  The men were already springing into her as she floated off.  In a few minutes all the men in the water were rescued, with the exception of one of the strangers, named Strachan.

This gentleman had been swept out to a small insulated rock, where he clung to the seaweed with great resolution, although each returning sea laid him completely under water, and hid him for a second or two from the spectators on the rock.  In this situation he remained for ten or twelve minutes; and those who know anything of the force of large waves will understand how severely his strength and courage must have been tried during that time.

When the boat reached the rock the most difficult part was still to perform, as it required the greatest nicety of management to guide her in a rolling sea, so as to prevent her from being carried forcibly against the man whom they sought to save.

“Take the steering-oar, Ruby; you are the best hand at this,” said Wilson.

Ruby seized the oar, and, notwithstanding the breach of the seas and the narrowness of the passage, steered the boat close to the rock at the proper moment.

“Starboard, noo, stiddy!” shouted John Watt, who leant suddenly over the bow of the boat and seized poor Strachan by the hair.  In another moment he was pulled inboard with the aid of Selkirk’s stout arms, and the boat was backed out of danger.

“Now, a cheer, boys!” cried Ruby.

The men did not require urging to this.  It burst from them with tremendous energy, and was echoed back by their comrades on the rock, in the midst of whose wild hurrah, Ned O’Connor’s voice was distinctly heard to swell from a cheer into a yell of triumph!

The little rock on which this incident occurred was called Strachan’s Ledge, and it is known by that name at the present day.

CHAPTER XXV

THE BELL ROCK IN A FOG—­NARROW ESCAPE OF THE SMEATON

Change of scene is necessary to the healthful working of the human mind; at least, so it is said.  Acting upon the assumption that the saying is true, we will do our best in this chapter for the human minds that condescend to peruse these pages, by leaping over a space of time, and by changing at least the character of the scene, if not the locality.

We present the Bell Rock under a new aspect, that of a dense fog and a dead calm.

This is by no means an unusual aspect of things at the Bell Rock, but as we have hitherto dwelt chiefly on storms, it may be regarded as new to the reader.