Wal questioned the chief, who said he could enter the sacred grove as chief of his tribe, and they walked into the clearing. Raising his club Meri struck one of the hollow trunks a blow, and it echoed through the forest with a sound like a drum.
Edgar looked into the hollow of each tree, but saw nothing. Presently a tall figure glided into the grove, and stood still regarding them.
They were at once convinced it was the unfortunate captain of the Distant Shore standing before them, but he showed no sign that he recognised them.
He was strangely altered from the fine, stalwart seaman they had known as Captain Manton of the Distant Shore. His figure was gaunt and thin, and his arms and hands were mere skin and bone. His hair was white, his beard of the same hue, and his eyes looked vacantly from under his bushy eyebrows. He wore an old coat, which reached to his knees, and his legs and feet were bare. As he advanced slowly towards them Meri fell back, but Edgar and Wal stood their ground.
‘Begone!’ said this ghost-like figure of Captain Manton. ‘This is no place for you. Begone, and leave me in peace! I harm no one. I am quite alone—alone in a world of my own, peopled with the ghosts of the drowned!’
Edgar stepped forward, and, looking him straight in the eyes, said:
‘Do you not know me, Captain Manton? I am Edgar Foster. I was saved from the wreck with your daughter Eva.’
At the mention of Eva’s name a momentary light of intelligence came into the man’s eyes, but it quickly died away, and left them dull and vacant.
‘Poor fellow!’ said Edgar sorrowfully; ‘his brain has given way under the strain. He must have suffered severely.’
‘Do you think he is mad?’ asked Wal.