Then all was darkness again more complete than ever.
They struggled down on to the shingle, where the little cluster of fishermen were hard at work with the line.

Almost the first person they ran across was Jimmy Dumble.

He was standing on the edge of the breakwater with a great lantern in his hand, superintending the line, and, as they drew near, Lessingham, who was a little in advance, could hear his voice above the storm.

He was shouting towards the wreck, his hand to his mouth.
"Send the master over next, you lubbers, or we'll cut the line.

Do you hear ?" There was no reply or, if there was, it was drowned in the wind.
Lessingham gripped the fisherman by the arm.
"Whom do you mean by 'master' ?" he demanded.