Over the gray waters one sees through a good glass, the white fringe of surf breaking on the sandy beach, which is lined by a black mass of people behind whom is burning a large bonfire.

A speck is at length made out to the right of the boat, 'three points off,' as the white haired old salt on board remarks.

The sky gets lighter, the sea deep blue.

We can now plainly see the dauntless Captain paddling actively away toward us, riding buoyantly over the swelling waves, and making good progress in his gray suit of india-rubber.

His brother comes on board soon, with the news that the boat can not venture through the surf that foams up the beach.