The little fishing cobble was making, in his opinion, a far more sensible struggle for existence.

She was managing her small resources with desperate skill.
"Tallisker," said the laird, "you stay here with these men.

Rory and I are going half a mile up the coast.

If the cobble drives on shore, the current will take a boat as light as she is over the Bogie Rock and into the surf yonder.

There are doubtless three or four honest men in her, quite as weel worth the saving as those stranger merchant bodies that will be in the packet." So Crawford and Rory hastened to the point they had decided on, and just as they reached it the boat became unmanageable.