"'Tis hard t' tell if the sea is breakin' on Deep Down," he said to himself. "Sure, it must be, though."
It was important to know that. Sometimes only the larger swells curl and break as they roll over Deep Down. Bobby knew that just such a sea was running then. Had it been daylight, the green colour and the slight lifting of the water would have warned him of the whereabouts of that dangerous reef. But it was night; the spray, as the wave was broken and flung into the air, and the swish and the patter, as the water fell back, were the signs he was on the lookout for.
If, then, the waves broke only at long intervals, the punt might at any moment be lifted and overturned. It might even then be floating over the rock. Bobby's heart beat faster when the greater swells slipped under the boat. Would they break beneath him? Would they break near at hand? He paddled slowly. It was better to be cautious, he thought, until he had Deep Down located. So he listened and looked as he paddled on.
At last he heard the significant swish and patter. He flashed about to look ahead. But he was too late. The spray had fallen and disappeared.
"'Tis somewheres near," he thought, "and 'tis breakin'. But whether t' port or starboard, I don't know."
Again—and apparently from another quarter—he heard the noise of a breaking wave. He turned in time to catch sight of a gleam of phosphorescence off the port bow.
"If that's Deep Down," he thought, "I'm safe. But if 'tis Old Moll or The Wrecker, I'm somewheres over Deep Down. I wisht I knowed which it was."
What was it? The Wrecker, Old Moll or Deep Down? Which one of the three rocks that lay in a line off Iron Head?
"I wisht I knowed," Bobby muttered, as he bent anew to the oars.