“We’ll come again, lad,” replied his father.
They then made their way to the outer opening, and back once more to the inner, where they had left the boat.
It was noticed that James Malone was somewhat silent all the way back to the wreck. And so he continued during breakfast. After this he slowly arose. “Brother,” he said, laying his hand on Halcott’s shoulder, “I have something strange to tell you. Come to the cliff-top, and you too, Tandy, and bring your pipes.”
Book Three—Chapter Eight.
Entombed Alive.
It was a very lovely day now. The sea all round towards the eastern side of the island was deep and blue; but the waters to the west were here and there more shallow, so that the ocean here was patched with splendid colouring—tints of opal, tender green, and crimson were set off by the deep dark-brown of a rocky bottom, whereon masses of sea-weed waved with the ebb or the flow of the tide.
There was not a breath of wind to-day, not a whisper in the woodlands; scarce a sound was to be heard, save the drowsy hum of the waves as they broke far below on the beach of snow-white sand, or the occasional screaming of the sea-birds sailing round and round the beetling crags where their nests were.
In very joy they seemed to scream to-day. Happy birds! There was no one to molest them on this far-off beautiful isle of the ocean. No gun was ever levelled at them, not a pebble ever thrown even by Fitz; and so tame were they that they often ran about the cliff-top, or even alighted on the ship itself.