Rangor Head. It loomed up above him like a great black wall, but he could not see more than the half of it, for the fog veiled the top. Around its foot the water boiled like a caldron, hissing and crawling over black, gaunt rocks where the kelp trailed and dripped.
"'What a place!' thought Roger. 'And never a light nor a beacon to warn off honest ships!' For all his stout heart, he shuddered a little as he looked down into the inky swirl below. When he raised his eyes he cried out aloud, for he saw through the reek a topsail schooner close in and driving straight for Rangor Head.
"'Can they not hear the breakers?' Roger thought. 'What can they be about? Saint Brian! She's gone!'
"For the schooner had shuddered against the rocks and was listing now, with her bows high in the air and her mainsail dipping the water. Roger shouted wildly, but his voice was drowned by the crash of the surf. He turned to ask aid and advice of the ancient man who had followed him, but he was nowhere to be seen. Roger could do nothing; the schooner was pounding herself to splinters. Before long she would be driven up at the very foot of Rangor
