“John Rex?”
It was a human voice! Whether of friend or enemy he did not pause to think. His terror over-mastered all other considerations.
“Here! here!” he cried, and sprang to the opening of the vault.
Arrived at the foot of the cliff, Blunt and Staples found themselves in almost complete darkness, for the light of the mysterious fire, which had hitherto guided them, had necessarily disappeared. Calm as was the night, and still as was the ocean, the sea yet ran with silent but dangerous strength through the channel which led to the Blow-hole; and Blunt, instinctively feeling the boat drawn towards some unknown peril, held off the shelf of rocks out of reach of the current. A sudden flash of fire, as from a flourished brand, burst out above them, and floating downwards through the darkness, in erratic circles, came an atom of burning wood. Surely no one but a hunted man would lurk in such a savage retreat.
Blunt, in desperate anxiety, determined to risk all upon one venture. “John Rex!” he shouted up through his rounded hands. The light flashed again at the eye-hole of the mountain, and on the point above them appeared a wild figure, holding in its hands a burning log, whose fierce glow illumined a face so contorted by deadly fear and agony of expectation that it was scarce human.
“Here! here!”
“The poor devil seems half-crazy,” said Will Staples, under his breath; and then aloud, “We're FRIENDS!” A few moments sufficed to explain matters. The terrors which had oppressed John Rex disappeared in human presence, and the villain's coolness returned. Kneeling on the rock platform, he held parley.
“It is impossible for me to come down now,” he said. “The tide covers the only way out of the cavern.”
“Can't you dive through it?” said Will Staples.
“No, nor you neither,” said Rex, shuddering at the thought of trusting himself to that horrible whirlpool.