“Silence!” cried Gascoyne, in a deep, sonorous tone, that was wonderfully different from that in which he had just been speaking to Henry; “get out the boat.  Arm yourselves, and jump in.  There is no time to lose.”

“The cutter is hard and fast,” said Henry; “if this squall does not come on, or if it turns out to be a light one, we may get her off.”

“Perhaps we may, but I have little hope of that,” returned Gascoyne.  “Now, lads, are you all in the boat?  Come, Henry, get in at once.”

“I will remain here,”, said Henry.

“For what end?” said Gascoyne, in surprise.

“The cutter belongs to a friend; I do not choose to forsake her in this off-hand manner.”

“But nothing can save her, Henry.”

“Perhaps not.  Nevertheless, I will do what I can.  She moves a little.  If she is lifted over this reef while we are on shore, she will be carried out to sea and lost, and that must not be allowed.  Leave me here till you land the men, and then send the boat back with two of them.  We will put some of the cutter’s ballast into it, and try to tow her off.  It won’t take half an hour, and that will not interfere with your plans, I should think, for the whole night lies before us.”

Seeing that he was determined, Gascoyne agreed, and left the cutter, promising to send off the boat directly.  But it took half an hour to row from the Wasp to the shore, and before the half of that time had elapsed, the storm which had been impending burst over the island.

It was much more violent than had been expected.  The cutter was lifted over the reef by the first wave, and struck heavily as she slid into deep water.  Then she rushed out to sea before the gale.  Henry seized the helm and kept the little vessel right before the wind.  He knew nothing of the sea around, and the intense darkness of the night prevented his seeing more than a dozen yards beyond the bow.

It was perhaps as well that he was kept in ignorance of what awaited him; for he was thus spared at least the anticipation of what appeared certain destruction.  He fancied that the rock over which he had been carried was the outer reef of the island.  In this he was mistaken.  The whole sea around and beyond him was beset with reefs, which at that moment were covered with foam.  Had daylight revealed the scene, he would have been appalled.  As it was, he stood stoutly and hopefully to the helm, while the cutter rushed wildly on to her doom.

Suddenly she struck with terrific violence, and Henry was hurled to the deck.  Leaping up, he sprang again to the helm and attempted to put about, but the shock had been so great that the whole framework of the little craft was dislocated.  The fastenings of the rudder had been torn out, and she was unmanageable.  The next wave lifted her over the reef, and the gale swept her away.

Even then the hopes of the young man did not quite fail him.  He believed that the last reef had now been passed, and that he would be driven out to the open sea, clear at least of immediate danger.  It was a vain hope.  In another moment the vessel struck for the third time, and the mast went over the side.  Again and again she rose and fell with all her weight on the rocks.  The last blow burst out her sides, and she fell to pieces, a total wreck, leaving Henry struggling with the waves.