A shout startled him. Lights on the water heaved up and down, now
disappearing, and now lifted high, and at intervals there came the sound
of voices. Thank God! help was near; they were coming in a boat to
save them.
But the lights grew more distant; he saw then disappearing towards the
harbor. Yes! it was of no use; no boat could live in the surf at the
foot of the Stack cliffs, and the sailors had given it up in despair.
His heart sank again, all the more for the glimpse of hope, and his
strength began to give way. Russell's delirium continued, and he grew
too frightened even to pray.
A light from the land. The sound of shouts--yes, he could be sure of
it; it was Dr. Rowlands' voice and Montagu's. He got convinced of this,
and summoned all his strength to shout in return. The light kept moving
up and down on the shore, not a hundred yards off. His fear vanished;
they were no longer alone. The first moment that the tide suffered any
one to reach them they would be rescued. His mind grew calm again, and
he determined to hold up for Russell's sake until help should come; and
every now and then, to make it feel less lonely, he answered the shouts
which came from the friendly voices in the fitful pauses of the storm.
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