“Get out of the place, you contemptible, tale-bearing sneak!” said Harry; and he accompanied his words with lash after lash of a big old-fashioned dog-whip. “How dare you come here with your miserable stories! Out with you, you dog, or I’ll lash you till you are blue!”
There could be no doubt but that some of the strokes administered would leave blue weals, though Zekle did not get many. Four or five fell upon his back and sides, however, before he got out of the door; and he was just turning to shake his fist and vow vengeance when a tremendous lash curled round him, inflicting so much pain that he uttered a loud yell and ran as hard as he could to a safe distance, where he turned once to shout, “Yah, coward!” and then disappeared.
“Coward!” said Harry bitterly. “Well, people say I am. Don’t be frightened, dear,” he continued as his mother entered the room in haste.
“But I am, my dear,” she cried excitedly. “What does all this mean?”
“I only used the dog-whip to a scoundrel—that’s all,” he said, with a reassuring smile; and as soon as he had pacified her he went outside to walk up and down and think about his late escape.
“No,” he said at last after a long thought, during which he had gone well over his adventures that evening; “I will not believe that a man could be such a wretch.”
He felt better after this and went in; but that night the excitement of the adventure and the effects of his immersion were sufficient to keep him awake hour after hour, while when he dropped off into an uneasy slumber it was for his mind to be haunted by dreams in which he was being dragged down into the depths of the sea by a strange monster that clung to his limbs and writhed about him, making him shudder as he felt the chilling embrace.
Again and again he awoke and tried to shake off the unpleasant sensation, but no sooner did he drop off to sleep again than the horrible dream came back, gathering in intensity as the time wore on.
Then came a variation. Mark Penelly was the creature that was trying to drown him; and as he dragged him down and down, lower and lower, into the depths, he kept telling him that it was because he was such a terrible coward, but that if he would dive off Carn Du into a ninth wave he would let him live.
This went on till it grew unbearable, so, leaping out of bed, Harry went to the window, drew up the blind, and threw open the casement, to lean out and gaze at the grey sea, that looked so dark in the early dawn of morning.