When O'Brien's alarm subsided, and he knew by the conduct of his companion that there was no occasion for fear, he stood fascinated by the stupendous spectacle. He had heard this described hundreds of times, but his imagination had not had space for grandeur such as this. The Hole did not spout at every wave, but took breathing space like a living thing. Now he understood why the opening of the cave was called the Whale's Mouth. Now he understood why the people said "she spouts" when the Puffing Hole flung its hundreds of tons of water a hundred feet into the air. It was a daring fancy which saw in the strange freak of nature a colossal representation of the spouting of the whale. The Black Rock was the head, the cave the jaws, the shaft in the rock the blow-hole of a whale multiplied a thousand times.
And he, presumptuous fool that he was, had imagined a boat might enter that cave and come out uninjured--that a man might throw himself into that awful funnel and survive!
In half an hour O'Brien and Phelan left the edge of the cliff and turned their faces towards the village. Notwithstanding the oilskins, both were wet through, for the spray and fine mist from the sea penetrated at the neck, the wrists, and under the buttons in front. They kept more inland on their way back. Phelan was the first to speak of the mysterious figure they had seen. He had no difficulty in the matter. They had seen the ghost of Fahey, who had committed suicide there ten or eleven years ago. Nothing could be simpler or more natural than this explanation. It was a horribly wicked thing to commit suicide, but to throw one's self into the Puffing Hole was a double crime; for, in addition to making away with life, it was defying Providence--it was courting the most awful death that could be sought by man. The supernatural appearance that day was to be a warning to O'Brien, who had displayed an unwise curiosity as to the Puffing Hole and the Whale's Nose. From the nature of O'Brien's inquiries, it was, notwithstanding his denials, almost certain that he had formed a design of going in a boat up the cavern. The spirit of the dead man had been sent to show him the penalty of any such impious risking of life, and to remind him of the fate he would surely encounter if he dared to do anything so rash.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
[A NIGHT TRAVELLER]
When O'Brien got back to the "Strand Hotel" at Kilcash, he thought the whole matter over for an hour or so. Then he sat down and wrote a note:
"My dear O'Hanlon,
"Jim Phelan, the boatman, and I went to the Black Rock to-day to see the Puffing Hole spout. When within a few hundred yards of the cliff over the Rock, we both plainly saw the figure of a man, which Phelan declared to be Fahey's! Are you satisfied now? I am not. I'll run in to Kilbarry to-morrow.
"Yours always,
"Jeremiah O'Brien."