flat-topped rock--it may be twenty feet in the square--known to the
Bryngelly fishermen as Table Rock. In ordinary weather, even at high
tide, the waters scarcely cover this rock, but when there is any sea
they wash over it with great violence. On to this rock Geoffrey and
Beatrice had been hurled by the breaker. Fortunately for them it was
thickly overgrown with seaweed, which to some slight extent broke the
violence of their fall. As it chanced, Geoffrey was knocked senseless by
the shock; but Beatrice, whose hand he still held, fell on to him and,
with the exception of a few bruises and a shake, escaped unhurt.

She struggled to her knees, gasping. The water had run off the rock, and
her companion lay quiet at her side. She put down her face and called
into his ear, but no answer came, and then she knew that he was either
dead or senseless.

At this second Beatrice caught a glimpse of something white gleaming in
the darkness. Instinctively she flung herself upon her face, gripping
the long tough seaweed with one hand. The other she passed round the
body of the helpless man beside her, straining him with all her strength
against her side.

Then came a wild long rush of foam. The water lifted her from the rock,
but the seaweed held, and when at length the sea had gone boiling by,
Beatrice found herself and the senseless form of Geoffrey once more
lying side by side. She was half choked. Desperately she struggled up
and round, looking shoreward through the darkness. Heavens! there, not
a hundred yards away, a light shone upon the waters. It was a boat's
light, for it moved up and down. She filled her lungs with air and sent
one long cry for help ringing across the sea. A moment passed and she
thought that she heard an answer, but because of the wind and the roar