“The storm is on us; but, thank the Almighty, we're safe,” said Mike, with a little sob. “I wish to goodness we hadn't come, all the same.”
“And so do I,” said Biddy; “it is perfectly awful being in a cave like this. What shall we do?”
“Do!” said Neil. “Hould your tongues and stay aisy. Faix, it's the Almighty is having a bit of a talk; you stay quiet and listen.”
The four oars were shipped now, and the boat swayed restlessly up and down.
“Aren't we going any farther?” said Nora.
“Not while this storm lasts. Oh, for goodness' sake, Nora, do stay quiet,” said Biddy.
Andy now produced out of his pocket a box of matches and a candle. He struck a match, applied it to the candle, and the next moment a feeble flame shot up. It was comparatively calm within the cave.
“There! that will light us a bit,” said Andy. “The storm won't last long. It's well we got into shelter. Now, then, we'll do fine.”
“You don't think,” said Biddy, in a terrified tone, “that the cave will be be crashed in?”
“Glory be to Heaven, no, miss—we have cheated the storm coming here.” The man smiled as he spoke, showing bits of broken teeth. His words were gentle enough, but his whole appearance was more like that of a wild beast than a man. Nora looked full at him. The candle lit up her pale face; her dark-blue eyes were full of courage; a lock of her black hair had got loose in the exertion of rowing, and had fallen partly over her shoulder and neck. “Faix, then, you might be the Banshee herself,” said Andy, bending forward and looking at her attentively.