As they were now all fairly well warmed by their exertions in making the tent and clearing the ground, there was not much risk to such hardy men from going to rest, and they all lay down under the shelter of the sails and skins, and were soon sound asleep.
The first to wake next morning was Wulfstan, who got up at once, and without waking any one, or at least disturbing them, he went out on to the cliff to see what could be seen of the place where they were wrecked.
The sun had only just risen. It had ceased snowing for some time apparently, for all signs of it had disappeared, and a glorious sight met his eyes. At his feet lay the old boat, lying broadside on to the steep shingle beach, and a large hole in her showed where she had struck the night before. She did not seem to have been any more damaged, and doubtless the reef, which was just beginning to show as the tide receded, had protected her; for the tides were then at neap or nearly so, and consequently the sea had not risen so high or had as much force as it would have had if the spring tides had then prevailed. Beyond the boat the white breakers were tumbling in creamy foam, tinged with the red and gold of the rising sun, which cast a gleaming path of light from the horizon to the feet of Wulfstan; on each side of this path of glory, the sea was deep greeny-grey, ending in a blue and misty purple under the rising sun; above the transparent depths of the exquisite primrose-coloured sky a few fleecy golden clouds floated in the fathomless blue of the heavens, while a gentle but rather keen breeze brought health and vigour to the lungs of the hardy boy. Far on the horizon, towards the north-east, a distant line of grey hills showed where the great Andredesweald stretched away in the distance.
Sniffing the fresh sea air, the boy ran along the beach, and, turning a point a little way to the south-west of him, came upon a long reef of rocks running far out into the sea, and over which the waves were rushing and tumbling in wild confusion as the tide ebbed into the main channel stream.
Out upon these rocks a solitary heron was looking for his morning meal with outstretched neck, while flocks of oxy birds rose in flickering flight, or settled, with shrill cry, on the luxuriant sea-weed that clothed the rocks with sheeny growth.
As Wulfstan went further on, following the shore as it trended towards the west, a great wall of chalk rose suddenly above the low gravel cliff, and shut out all further view in that direction. Above, the magnificent chalk cliff, that went in sheer descent from a height of some three hundred feet into the blue sea below, crowned with a smooth slope of brown turf, rose in gradual swell to sink again in steeper descent towards the north, while its precipitous sides sloped abruptly to the low ground of the foreland.
"Oh! there's our dear old Binbrigge dune!"[1] cried Wulfstan, who had many a time ridden over those grassy slopes, and been lowered over the cliff to collect the sea-fowls' eggs that were laid in otherwise unapproachable nooks and ledges of the precipice.
[1] Bembridge Down.
The boy had forgotten all the past weeks. He seemed once more at home, and wandered on, forgetful of the shipwreck, the sick brother left on the mainland, and his own burnt home.
He was roused from his dreams by a rustling in the long coarse grass that fringed the low cliff, and directly afterwards a boy's voice called out, in amazement: