“Can’t you make out who or what she is?” asked Howard.

“I should say by her build she was a whaler,” answered Maurice, taking up the glass again and having a long look.  Then he hastily passed it to Ole and Ole to Eric.

“There’s no time to be lost,” said Ole, “the storm will be too heavy in another hour for us to put off.  She’s in danger, there’s no mistake, and we must get to her.  It seems to me there can’t be any crew on board, or if there is, they must be mad.  It’s the strangest thing I ever saw.”

In a few moments all was excitement; the news spread through the village like wild-fire; every cottage was astir; old and young came out to see and hear and speculate; while half a dozen stalwart fellows, including the three brothers, made ready for the start.  Howard and Martin were among the first to volunteer to accompany them, but the fishermen would not hear of it.  There was no time to discuss the matter; all was hurry and bustle.

See! the crew is ready; all hands are wanted for the launch.  It is no easy matter; the waves are beating in on the shore, and threaten to swamp the boat almost before she starts on her perilous errand.  Hurrah! she rides!  Ole is at the helm; a manly cheer comes to the now silent watchers on the shore, and the little craft plunges through the waters, now rising on a crested wave, now sinking into the valley of waters, but speeding her devious way toward the mysterious ship.

Madeleine clings to the arm of Howard, pale with the excitement.  Ethel has hardly dared to speak, and Martin has not found it in his heart to break the intense silence of those anxious moments as they watch the departure.

But see! a group has gathered on the spot where Ole, Maurice and Eric had stood.  It is the favorite lookout.  The glass is there, and an old man has taken it in his steady hand, and is reporting the news by little jerks of speech to the anxious throng around him.  It is Ole Hughson, the father of the three brothers.

“Can make out one man on board.  He sees them.  They’ve tacked again.  It aint so bad as it looked.  Sea’s quieter there.  Hulloa! there goes a sail to ribbons.  They are tacking again.  She has slackened sail.  Good! good!”

But other eyes can now make out the scene, for the ship draws nearer, and the eyes that have gazed so long seem to have gained strength to see further.

The Shetland boat nears the ship; it is near enough for the crew to catch the cry that comes from the solitary man upon the deck.

See! the little boat tacks again, and is now close in the wake of the ship.  Good heavens! in that sea, with those waves running, will they dare to attempt to board her?

Yes, a rope has been thrown to them.  Thank God, it is caught!  But the little boat has sunk!  No, she has but gone down in the great valley of waters, and is riding safe and sound.  Look! some one from the Shetland boat has caught hold of the rudder-chains.  He climbs the dangerous way.  He is on board.  It is Eric—­the brave, dauntless Eric.  Another and another follow, and all reach the ship in safety.