For another wave came rushing in, seeming to gather force as it ran, while Josh so cleverly managed the boat that he made it ride on the surface of the wave right over a low ridge of rocks, and then rowed close in and ran her head upon what looked to be coarse sand. Then in went the oars, Josh and Will leaped out, waited a few moments, and then, another smaller wave helping them, they drew the boat higher, so that she was left half dry, and her passengers were able to step out on the dry patch beneath the rocks.
“Why, it isn’t sand, but little broken shells,” cried Dick excitedly, as Mr Temple casually picked up a handful to examine.
“Yes, Dick, broken shells, and not siliceous,” said Mr Temple.
“What are those red and green rocks, father?” asked Dick.
“Serpentine; and that white vein running through is soapstone. Ah! now we shall get to know a little about what is inside.”
“But why have we come here?” asked Arthur.
“Because there has been a working here. Some one must have dug down and thrown out all that mass of broken rock. Part has been washed away; but all this, you see, though worn and rounded by the waves washing it about, has been dug out of the rock.”
He had walked to a long slope of wave-worn fragments of rock as he spoke, forming a steep ascent that ran up into a rift in the great cliff; and he drew Dick’s attention to the fact that what seemed like a level place a hundred feet above was so situated that anything thrown down would have fallen in the niche or combe of the cliff just beyond them.
“Now, my fine fellow,” said Mr Temple, as he picked up a piece of wave-polished stone, “what’s that?”
“Serpentine,” said Will quietly.