She could neither tack nor wear, and no anchor would hold for a moment on that rocky bottom, in such a sea.
On reaching the village, they joined a group of fishermen who were standing under the shelter of the end of a cottage.
"Can nothing be done, Considine ?" Mr.Davenant shouted, in the ear of one of the fishermen.
"Not a thing, yer honour.

She has just let drop one of her anchors." "But they could not hope it would hold there," Mr.Davenant said.
"Not they, your honour, onless they were mad.

They hoped it would hoult so as to bring her head round; but the cable went, as soon as the strain came.

I saw her head go sharp up to the wind, and then fall off again; not that it would have made much difference in the end, though it would have given them half an hour longer of life." "Could we get a boat off with a line, if she strikes ?" "Look at the sea, yer honour.

Mr.Walter has been asking us; but there's no boat could get through that surf, not if all Ireland dipinded on it." "Where is Walter ?" "Sure and I can't tell ye, yer honour.