Bryngelly, and if we are lucky we may get there before the weather
breaks."

"Yes, _if_ we are lucky," he said grimly, as he bent himself to the
work. "But the question is where to paddle to--it's so dark. Had not we
better run for the shore?"

"We are in the middle of the bay now," she answered, "and almost as far
from the nearest land as we are from Bryngelly, besides it is all rocks.
No, you must go straight on. You will see the Poise light beyond Coed
presently. You know Coed is four miles on the other side of Bryngelly,
so when you see it head to the left."

He obeyed her, and they neither of them spoke any more for some time.
Indeed the rising wind made conversation difficult, and so far as
Geoffrey was concerned he had little breath left to spare for words. He
was a strong man, but the unaccustomed labour was beginning to tell on
him, and his hands were blistering. For ten minutes or so he paddled on
through a darkness which was now almost total, wondering where on earth
he was wending, for it was quite impossible to see. For all he knew
to the contrary, he might be circling round and round. He had only one
thing to direct him, the sweep of the continually rising wind and the
wash of the gathering waves. So long as these struck the canoe, which
now began to roll ominously, on the starboard side, he must, he thought,
be keeping a right course. But in the turmoil of the rising gale and the
confusion of the night, this was no very satisfactory guide. At length,
however, a broad and brilliant flash sprung out across the sea, almost
straight ahead of him. It was the Poise light.

He altered his course a little and paddled steadily on. And now the