It was pitch dark, and only one or two stars were seen at intervals struggling through the ragged masses of cloud.  The wind howled in fitful gusts, and as their road led by the sea-side, Montagu shuddered to hear how rough and turbulent the sea was, even on the sands.  He stumbled once or twice, and then the Doctor kindly drew his trembling arm through his own, and made him describe the whole occurrence, while the servant went on in front with the lantern.  When Montagu told how Williams had braved the danger of reaching his friend at the risk of his life, Dr. Rowlands’ admiration was unbounded.  “Noble boy,” he exclaimed, with enthusiasm; “I shall find it hard to believe any evil of him after this.”

They reached Ellan, and went to the boat-house.

“Have you put out the life-boat?” said Dr. Rowlands anxiously.

“Ill luck, sir,” said one of the sailors, touching his cap; “the life-boat went to a wreck at Port Vash two days ago, and she hasn’t been brought round again yet.”

“Indeed! but I do trust you have sent out another boat to try and save those poor boys.”

“We’ve been trying, sir, and a boat has just managed to start; but in a sea like that it’s very dangerous, and it’s so dark and gusty that I doubt it’s no use, so I expect they’ll put back.”

The Doctor sighed deeply.  “Don’t alarm any other people,” he said; “it will merely raise a crowd to no purpose.  Here, George,” he continued to the servant, “give me the lantern; I will go with this boy to the Stack; you follow us with ropes, and order a carriage from the King’s Head.  Take care to bring anything with you that seems likely to be useful.”

Montagu and Dr. Rowlands again started, and with difficulty made their way through the storm to the shore opposite the Stack.  Here they raised the lantern and shouted; but the wind was now screaming with such violence that they were not sure that they heard any answering shout.  Their eyes, accustomed to the darkness, could just make out the huge black outline of the Stack rising from the yeast of boiling waves, and enveloped every moment in blinding sheets of spray.  On the top of it Montagu half thought that he saw something, but he was not sure.

“Thank God, there is yet hope,” said the Doctor, with difficulty making his young companion catch his words amid the uproar of the elements; “if they can but keep warm in their wet clothes, we may perhaps rescue them before morning.”

Again he shouted to cheer them with his strong voice, and Montagu joined his clear ringing tones to the shout.  This time they fancied that in one of the pauses of the wind they heard a faint cheer returned, was sound more welcome, and as they paced up and down they shouted at intervals, and held up the lantern, to show the boys that friends and help were near.

Eric heard them.  When Montagu left, he had carried Russell to the highest point of the rock, and there, with gentle hands and soothing words, made him as comfortable as he could.  He wrapped him in every piece of dry clothing he could find, and held him in his arms, heedless of the blood which covered him.  Very faintly Russell thanked him, and pressed his hand; but he moaned in pain continually, and at last fainted away.