The storm had abated, but still the sea rose tempestuously, and broken clouds filled the sky as with great whirlpools and drifts of smoke. A good deal of rain had fallen, and this calmed the waters somewhat; but the disturbed elements of the tempest made the most experienced seaman look anxious when his face was turned oceanwards. An assistant pilot, whose duty lay in that range of the shore, had been injured in helping to save the crew of that ill-fated vessel. His comrades had carried him up to the tavern, and laid him on a settee in the bar-room, where he grew worse and worse, till it became dangerous to remove him to more comfortable quarters.

In this state North found the man on the second day after the wreck, when he came up from the village, where he had sought accommodations till the coroner's inquest should be over, and his room cleared of its mournful incumbrance.

Independent of his personal hurt, the boatman was suffering from intense anxiety regarding the duties of his occupation. It had been his employer's pride to be always first in the incoming course of the California steamers, and now his little craft lay with its sails furled in a cove below the house, waiting for a signal to put to sea. The man had been very anxious to intercept the steamers of that month, because it was thought that Mr. Mellen might possibly be on board, and he was sure of a good round sum, in that case, for bringing this gentleman on shore, while his superior, the pilot, took the steamer into port.

North heard all these muttered regrets as he sat gloomily in the bar-room, and they seemed to affect him more than so unimportant a subject should have done. It was now drawing towards night, and the man became terribly restless, for the pilot was expected every moment, and from vague conjecture the poor fellow worked his mind up into a certainty that Mellen would come, and the reward for bringing him on shore be lost.

"If there was only a man about that could take care of the craft," he said, "I'd divide with him a fair half to take my place, but there isn't, and ten chances to one the boss loses his chance with the steamer, all because of this confounded foot of mine. I wish we'd let the passengers drown; well, not quite so bad as that, but it's plaguey hard on a fellow to give up his luck in this way."

The bar-room happened to be empty just then, with the exception of North and the injured man. North aroused himself and looked around. Seeing no listeners near, he went up to the grumbler, and began to condole with him.

"Is there no one who can take your place?" he questioned.

"Not a man. These fellows do well enough in fishing boats that can hug the shore, but sometimes the boss runs his craft clear out to sea. Besides, this weather is enough to frighten a fresh hand," was the impatient answer.

"What if I should make an offer to go."

"You!"

The man laughed in spite of his pain and annoyance.

"You. I like that."

"But I can handle a boat in pretty rough waters, let me tell you, my man."

"But you look too much of a gentleman. The boss would never trust you."

"Oh, a suit of your clothes, which I see they have had sense enough to dry, and a few things I have on hand will make that all right."

"But, how much? how much?" inquired the man, anxiously.

"Why, nothing; I shall go for the fun of it, or not at all."

"That's the idea," answered the seaman, rubbing his hands—which still trembled with weakness—in sudden delight, "a real gentleman and no mistake, but bear a hand at once. It won't do for the commodore to find you in this rig."

"Aye, aye," answered North, sailor fashion, and in a voice that seemed hoarse from years of sea service.

The man started up on the settee, aroused to dangerous enthusiasm by astonishment.

"That's the time o' day," he cried in high glee.

North snatched up the seaman's clothes, and retired with them into a little room back of the bar. He had got over the first shock of nervousness regarding the dead body lying upstairs, but still shrunk from looking on it again with shuddering terror. The remembrance of his crime did not prevent the contemplation of another equally atrocious, but he did not care to look on that sight again. After a little he came out from the room, so completely changed that the sick man stared wildly at him, and called out,

"Where away, messmate; are you one of the fellows we saved from the wreck?"

North laughed, settled himself in his loose clothes sailor fashion, and walked with wide steps across the floor, as if it had been a quarter-deck. A dawning conviction of the truth seized upon the man. He fell back upon the settee, uttering broken ejaculations of delight intermingled with groans.

"That'll do. It's all right. He'll take you for one of the chaps we saved from the wreck, and ask no questions," he panted out.

"It's going to be a roughish night," said North. "I hope your Mr. Mellen can swim, if we happen to get into any trouble."

"No, no, don't depend on that, but he knows the coast, and is as brave as a lion; still I shouldn't like him to be brought into danger, remember that."

"It's not at all likely that he'll be on board," answered North, carelessly.

"Hush up," cried the seaman, "don't you hear the commodore coming? They've just told him about this confounded foot. Hear him swear."

The pilot came in while his assistant was speaking.

"What the thunder is all this about? just when I wanted you most, too, and a rough night. They'll get ahead of us, and all through this confounded wrecking business. Couldn't you keep out of it for once, you rascal?"

"Keep a stiff upper lip, commodore. It's all right," cried the man, pointing to North; "here's a chap I have done a service to, who is willing to take my night's work on himself, just out of gratitude. He's a safe hand."

"Let him bear away, then," cried the pilot, casting a glance at North, which seemed to prove satisfactory; "come on, my man, we have no time to lose."

North followed the pilot in silence, only stopping by the sick man long enough to whisper, "Don't mention this to a living soul!"

The man promised, and kept his word.

The pilot boat was soon unmoored and flying out to sea like a stormy petrel. North performed his duty well, and received a word or two of commendation from the superior, which proved the efficacy of his disguise, for he had seen this person more than once at the shore tavern.

At last they came in sight of a large steamer laboring heavily with a roughish sea and uncertain wind. She hailed them, and the little boat bore down upon her. The steamer lay to, and the pilot mounted her side, after giving some directions to his man. A crowd of persons met him as he leaped over the bulwarks, and among them North searched with burning eagerness for that one face. It appeared at last, looking down upon the boat from over the bulwarks. The bad man's heart rose to his mouth; he watched every movement on deck with keen interest.

The pilot came to Mellen's side, and made a signal for the boat to wait. Then some luggage was lowered and Grantley Mellen came down the side of the steamer, and took his seat in the little craft, which flew away with him towards the clouded shore. The wind increased as they sped along, and though not so terrible as it had been when that other vessel was wrecked, it gradually rose to a degree of violence that threatened the little pilot boat with destruction. But the gale blew shoreward, and urged the boat on till it fairly leaped over the hissing waves.

A dismal twilight came on, and the storm was rapidly increasing to its full power as they drew near the shore. The wind roared among the hills, and lashed the waters into foam, the rain beat heavily and chill as sleet, but Mr. Mellen sat cold and firm on his luggage, neither heeding the disguised boatman's ejaculations or offering to aid him in his difficult task.

It was a position to test the courage of the strongest man, and many a time it seemed that the wind and waves must conquer and swamp the light craft completely; but no matter how rude or sudden the shock, Mr. Mellen neither betrayed any anxiety, nor gave any more sympathy to the toiling boatman, than if he had been a wooden machine.

The disguised seaman now and then cast a furtive look at his passenger, who seemed almost unconscious of the increasing gale. A heavy gust sometimes seized his cloak and sent it sweeping out like the wings of a great bird, but he only pulled it impatiently about him and sat quiet again, looking out through the stern night.

This perilous voyage was a long one, and its difficulties grew fearfully as they neared the end. The wind seemed to come from every point at once, and tossed the boat about till it fairly leaped in the water, as if trying to escape from its combined enemies.

Suddenly the rain almost ceased, the clouds parted, and the moon cast a frightened glare over the scene. In the distance Mr. Mellen could see his own dwelling, with the broad sweep of woods and waters in front; then a sharp exclamation from his companion aroused him to the new dangers that threatened him.

The boat had been swept in near the shore, where a ring of sunken rocks girdled the beach, breaking the waves into whirlpools, and sending the white foam out into the storm. In this spot that good ship had gone down, yet the boatman made no effort to veer his little craft from the awful danger, but with a furious light in his eyes and a horrid smile on his lips, bore down upon the breakers. True, it required almost superhuman strength to turn the course of that light craft, for the blast was dashing it forward like a battalion of fiends.

They were close upon the breakers, when Mellen sprang up, pushed the boatman back with a violence that sent him headlong into the bottom of the boat, and seized the helm himself. Mr. Mellen struggled with all the power desperation gives a man, but his efforts were futile as those of a child. The boat spun round and round till they were fairly dizzy; another fierce blast and they were blown directly into the breakers.

Mellen's agonized cry was answered by a hoarse murmur from his companion, which sounded like a malediction. Before either could think or act, a more violent blast raging up from the sea, struck the skiff and whirled it in among the rocks.

Now Mellen's eyes kindled, and all the reserved force of his character came out. He knew every inch of the coast for miles each way. Through these boiling white breakers was a channel wide enough to carry them over, and towards that he forced the little craft, which seemed absolutely to leap through the breakers into the leaden current, where she rested one moment, trembling from stem to stern like a great crippled bird hunted to death by the elements.

North saw that they were in possible safety. He had not anticipated a storm so terrible as that, but had intended to swamp his boat in the breakers and swim ashore, leaving Mellen, who could not swim, as he supposed, to his fate. But now everything else was forgotten in a cowardly thirst for life. No man could exist for a moment in that awful riot of waters. He watched Mellen as he kept the boat steadily in the current, with the keen anxiety of a man to whom death is the terror of terrors.

The little craft swept on, reeling and recoiling along the narrow path into comparatively smooth waters. Mellen, still with one hand bearing down the helm, seized the cable and flung it towards the disguised boatman, who lifted his wild face for the orders he had not the power to ask.

"Be ready," cried Mellen, with the quick resolution which marked his character, "jump out as she nears that rock—we are safe then."

They both stood upright in the boat, swaying to and fro, but managing to retain a firm position.

Again the hope of safety seemed a delusive one; the skiff swooped away from the rock, spun more giddily about, and threw both men upon their knees. Another instant that seemed endless,—an instant which decided the fate of both, as far as this world was concerned,—these men trembled on the brink of eternity. If the skiff obeyed the counter blast that was upon them and swept towards the breakers, they were lost; still there was a hope, if it veered upon the rock which loomed out from the shore.

The moon gave light enough to enable them to watch the scene and see their danger. Again the conflicting blasts struck them; the boat reeled, righted itself and was dashing by the rock, upon which the two men sprang by a simultaneous movement. A few more vigorous leaps and they reached the shore, standing there for a moment in breathless awe. Then they commenced hauling in the crippled boat, which the blast had seized upon and was tearing out to sea.

"Safe!" cried Mellen, in a tone of hearty thanksgiving. "I did think that the brave little craft would go down, but thank God, we are on dry land."

"Safe and defeated!" muttered North, turning his face from the wind. "The storm that helped me two days ago proves treacherous now."

"Come!" shouted Mellen, lashing the cable to a stunted pine that grew in a cleft of the rock, "come up to the house, we shall find a fire there and a glass of brandy. The old man will send some of his people for the luggage."

North made no answer, but moved off towards the house, which he passed, walking moodily towards the village. Mellen went up to the tavern.