The boat was run ashore, the grapnel placed on the sand, and as they leaped on to the level surface one by one they reeled and caught at the air to save themselves from falling, for the sand seemed to heave like the sea.
“Are we giddy from rowing in the sun?” said the captain excitedly.
“No; the earth moved. Hush!”
It was Mark who spoke, and they listened to a dull rumbling sound. Then there was a smart shock, a great cloud seemed to be puffed out of the mountain, whose top they could see plainly dominating the gorge, and then all was still.
“An earthquake!” said the captain. “Here, stand up, men, what are you doing?”
This was to Billy Widgeon and the other sailor, who, immediately upon feeling the tremulous wavy motion of the earth, had dropped into a sitting position, and from that lain flat down upon their backs.
“Is it safe to get up, sir?” said Billy pitifully.
“Safe!” said the mate. “Yes, for you. You wouldn’t fall far.”
“No, sir, not so werry far,” said Billy apologetically; “but you see I ain’t used to walking when the ground’s a-heaving up like that there.”
“My good fellow, who is?” cried the mate.