“Are you still at your old work, ye hard-hearted ruffians, dragging off the young and helpless to be drowned in the salt, salt sea. Aren’t ye emissaries of Satan; let him go free, or my curses rest on you.” And Jacob saw the tall figure of Mad Sal descending the cliffs by a pathway few would have ventured to tread. Now and then she stopped and waved the long staff she carried in her hand.
“Who is that old woman?” asked Miles. “Make her hold her tongue, some of you, will you?”
“It’s more than you or any other man can do,” said one of the ruffians. “Try it yourself, master.”
Miles however showed no disposition to confront personally the mad woman.
“Get this young fellow aboard as you were ordered, and never mind her.”
This remark drew the attention of the mad woman, especially on Miles himself.
“Who are you?” she asked. “Are you a being of the earth, or a spirit from the nether world?” she shrieked out. “Speak, I command you, speak!”
“Be off, and don’t interfere with us, old woman!” answered Miles, plucking up his courage.
“I thought my senses deceived me,” shrieked out the mad woman, and she turned towards the men with whom Jacob was struggling as they endeavoured to drag him into the boat.
“Stay, I charge you, men, carry not off that poor lad on to the cruel salt sea if he is unwilling to go; the salt, salt sea, the cruel salt sea,” and she burst out in her usual refrain.