“For heaven’s sake, you have told no one of our plans?”
“I—bless you, boy—not I. You know you told me yourself, before going to the station, what you intended, and I was troubled and anxious, and I came to see how things were turning out. The Black Prince is coming in; she will anchor shortly. She can’t come beyond the point yonder. I was sure you would be here. How many have you brought with you?”
“But six.”
“Too few. However, now I am with you, that makes eight.”
“I wish you had not come, father.”
“My boy, I did not come only on your account. I have my poor little Ju so near my heart that I long to put out if only a finger to liberate her from that ruffian, whom by the way I have challenged.”
“Yes—but I have stepped in as your substitute. I shall, I trust, try conclusions with Coppinger to-night. Come with me to the cave I told you of. We will send a man to keep guard at the foot of the donkey path.”
Oliver led the way; the sands reflected the illumination of the sky, and the foam that swept up the beach had a rosy tinge. The waves hissed as they rushed up the shore, as though impatient at men speaking and not listening to the voice of the ocean, that should subdue all human tongues, and command mute attention. And yet that roar is inarticulate, it is like the foaming fury of the dumb, that strives with noise and gesticulation to explain the thoughts that are working within.
In the cave it was dark, and Oliver lighted a piece of touchwood as a means of observing the shelving ground, and taking his direction, till he passed under the brow of rock and entered the upper cavern.
After a short scramble, the dim yellow glow of light from this inner recess was visible, when Oliver extinguished his touchwood and pushed on, guided by this light.