At Falmouth, where she had run in for a couple of days, on account of a damaged rudder, the captain paid off his extra hands, foreseeing no difficulty in the voyage up Channel.

She had not, however, left Falmouth harbour three hours before she met with a gale that started her steering-gear afresh.
To put back in the teeth of such weather was hopeless; and the attempt to run before it ended as we know.
When Ruby looked up, after the crash, and saw her friends running along the headland to catch a glimpse of the wreck, her anger returned.
She stood for twenty minutes at least, watching them; then, pulling her cloak closely round her, walked homewards at a snail's pace.

By the church gate she met the belated Methodists hurrying up, and passed a word or two of information that sent them panting on.

A little beyond, at the point where the peninsula joins the mainland, she faced round to the wind again for a last glance.

Three men were following her slowly down the ridge with a burden between them.