In the Roar of the Sea

by S. Baring-Gould

“Aye, aye, sir.”

“Then take your suppers while you may. We shall have hot work presently. Should a step be heard below, throw a bit o’ sailcloth over the lantern, Samson.”

Oliver was neither hungry nor thirsty. He had both eaten and drunk sufficient when at the station. He therefore left the men to make their collation, prime their spirits, pluck up their courage, screw up their nerves, polish their wits, all with the same instrument, and descended the slope of shingle, stooped under the brow of rock that divided the lower from the upper cave, and made his way to the entrance, and thence out over the sands of the cove. He knew that the shore could be reached only by the donkey-path, or by the dangerous track down the chimney—a track he had not discovered till he had made a third exploration of the cave. Down this tortuous and perilous descent he was convinced the smugglers would not come. It was, he saw, but rarely used, and designed as a way of escape only on an emergency. A too-frequent employment of this path would have led to a treading of the turf on the cliff above, and to a marking of the line of descent, that would have attracted the attention of the curious, and revealed to the explorer the place of retreat.

Oliver, therefore, went forward toward the point where the donkey-path reached the sands, deeming it advisable that a watch should be kept on this point, so that his party might be forewarned in time of the approach of the smugglers.

There was much light in the sky, a fantastic, mysterious glow, as though some great conflagration were taking place and the clouds over head reflected its flicker.

There passed throbs of shadow from side to side, and as Oliver looked he could almost believe that the light he saw proceeded from a great bonfire, such as was kindled on the Cornish Moors on Midsummer’s Eve, and that the shadows were produced by men and women dancing round the flames and momentarily intercepting the light.

Then ensued a change. The rose hue vanished suddenly, and in its place shot up three broad ribbons of silver light; and so bright and clear was the light that the edge of the cliff against it was cut as sharp as a black silhouette on white paper, and he could see every bush of gorse there, and a sheep—a solitary sheep.

Suddenly he was startled by seeing a man before him, coming over the sand.

“Who goes there?”

“What—Oliver! I have found you!” the answer was in his father’s voice. “Oh, well, I got fidgeted, and I thought I would come and see if you had arrived.”