CHAPTER TWELVE. 

THE STORM--THE WRECK OF THE HOMEWARD BOUND--THE LIFEBOAT. 

A stern chase never was and never will be a short one. Old Coleman, in the course of quarter of a mile's run, felt that his powers were limited and wisely stopped short; Bax, Guy, and Tommy Bogey held on at full speed for upwards of two miles along the beach, following the road which wound along the base of the chalk cliffs, and keeping the fugitive well in view. 

But Long Orrick was, as we have seen, a good runner. He kept his ground until he reached a small hamlet named Kingsdown, lying about two and a half miles to the north of Saint Margaret's Bay. Here he turned suddenly to the left, quitted the beach, and made for the interior, where he was soon lost sight of, and left his disappointed pursuers to grumble at their bad fortune and wipe their heated brows. 

The strength of the gale had now increased to such an extent that it became a matter not only of difficulty but of danger to pass along the shore beneath the cliffs. The spray was hurled against them with great violence, and as the tide rose the larger waves washed up with a magnificent and overwhelming sweep almost to their base. In these circumstances Guy proposed to go back to Saint Margaret's Bay by the inland road. 

"It's a bit longer," said he, as they stood under the lee of a wall, panting from the effects of their run, "but we shall be sheltered from the gale; besides, I doubt if we could pass under the cliffs now." 
Where did he finally arrive?
He kept his ground until he reached a small hamlet named Kingsdown, l