“The brig, sir. Ups and downs in life we see. Here was she built ashore, launched and then goes on her voyages, and then all at once she is launched again t’other way on, as you may say, and run up on land to stay till she dies.”
“Unless we dig a canal back to the sea and float her, Smith,” said Oliver.
“Zackly so, sir, but you’d want ten hundred thousand niggers to do the work.”
“And the weekly wages bill would be rather big,” said Drew.
“Look out,” said Oliver, who was bending down and carefully examining the ground.
“What for?” asked Panton, cocking his piece.
“The serpents. Here is some dried blood.”
“And here’s a mark, sir,” added Smith excitedly. “One of the bits come along here.”
“Yes. I can see another mark,” cried Panton. “Look.” He pointed to what resembled the impression that would have been made by a large yard laid in a patch of half-dried mud in a depression, for either going or coming, a serpent had evidently passed along there.
The trees were close at hand now, and covered a far greater space than they had imagined. The spot was rugged too, with great masses of stone, which showed amongst the trunks and undergrowths, while opposite to them there was a black cavernous rift, as if the rock had been suddenly split open, all of which had been previously hidden by the dense growth.