And its effect on those in the boat?—Well—
That morning our exploring party had resumed their voyage with somewhat saddened hearts, for they remembered the look of the coast well, and knew that an hour or so would bring them to the cave where the Lapwing had gone down. Even Black Ned had become sentimental, and given vent to a few expressions of a semi-religious nature!
“We can’t be far from it now,” said Dr Hayward, as the men ceased rowing, and the boat glided slowly, silently along.
“It’s a gruesome place,” remarked Black Ned, in a low voice.
“To think that so many lives were lost here—or hereabouts,” murmured Tomlin.
“An’ their ghost, maybe, hangin’ about!” suggested Slag, with a superstitious glance over his shoulder.
Just then Hayward bade O’Connor get up and stand in the bow with the boat-hook, ready to fend off,—an order which the Irishman, having been somewhat awed by the tone of the conversation, obeyed in silence.
It was at this point that they glided in front of the cave, and drew forth the yell which burst upon them like a clap of thunder. The shock to the nervous system of each was terrific. In the case of O’Connor it was visible, for he fell flat back into the bottom of the boat and fetched Jarring a tremendous whack on the head with the boat-hook in falling. Afterwards, Terrence asserted stoutly that a slip of the foot as he stood on the th’ort was the cause, but those who knew him best held that it was “a case of nerves.”
Need it be said that, on recovering nervous equilibrium, the joy of rescuers and rescued was intense?
“Come along, let’s take ’im home at wanst,” cried the Irishman, when they had got the poor dazed man into the boat. “Isn’t it Peggy that’ll open her eyes an’ screech for joy when she sots her eyes on ye!”