It was a calm enough day, but down there among the rocks the tide rushed in with such fierce power and so rapidly that we were being deluged by every wave which broke, while at intervals the greater waves threatened to be soon big enough to sweep us away.
"Don't stop looking," cried Bob Chowne frantically.

"Sep, Sep! Pull, pull!" He dashed at poor Bigley again, and we dragged with all our might; but the efforts were vain, and again we stared at each other in despair.
"Try again!" I cried breathlessly, and with a horrible feeling coming over me as I once more seized my school-fellow's hand.
Bob followed my example, and again we dragged and hauled at the poor fellow, whose great eyes stared at us in a wildly appealing way that seemed to chill me.
It was of no use.

We could not stir him, and we stopped again panting, as a bigger wave struck us and drove us against the rocks, and ran gurgling up into the grotto where poor Bigley was fixed.
"Shall I run for help ?" groaned Bob, who was crying and sobbing all the time.
I shook my head, for I knew it was of no use, and then dashed at poor Bigley again, to catch hold of his hand, not to drag at it, but to hold it in both mine.
I don't know why I did it, unless it was from the natural feeling that it might encourage and comfort him to have someone gripping his hand in such a terrible time.
I tried not to think of the horror as the water splashed and hissed about us, and gurgled horribly in the grotto; but something seemed to be singing in my ears, and I heard again the shrieking of a poor boy who was drowned years before by getting one leg fixed in a rift among the rocks when mussel gathering and overtaken by the tide.
He, poor fellow, was drowned, for they could not drag him out, and it seemed to me that our poor schoolmate must lose his life in the same way unless we could devise some means to rescue him.
We looked round despairingly, and for a moment I tried to hope that the tide might not, upon this occasion, rise so high; but a glance at the top of the rocks showed them to be covered with limpets and weed, indicating that they were immersed at every tide, as I well enough knew, and I could not suppress a groan.
"Sep," said poor Bigley, drawing me closer to him, with his great strong hand, and gazing at me with a terribly pathetic look in his eyes.

"Sep, tell poor father not to take on about it.

We couldn't help it.