Full of this thought, Wat turned the prow of the boat and struck confidently along the shore, past the bay where he had first brought the derelict ashore, and on towards the projecting eastern ness of Suliscanna. But here there was no projecting bar, and Wat promptly found himself in the same uneasy, boiling swirl which had so disastrously ended his former voyage. Nevertheless, he persevered for some distance, for indeed he saw no other way of reaching the southern isle. But suddenly, not ten yards in front of his boat, appeared the turbulent, arched back of a yet more furious tide-race. The prow of the boat was snatched around in an instant; two or three staggering blows were dealt her on the quarter as she turned tail. The oar was almost dragged from his hand, and in another moment Wat found himself floating in the smooth water at the tail of the reef, not far from where he had started. He almost laughed, so suddenly and completely had the proof been afforded him that there was no outgate east or west for a heavy craft so undermanned as his was. It was with a heavy heart, therefore, that Wat had perforce to give up the boat as a means of reaching the southern island. After his defeat he went ashore and sat gloomily watching the pale lilac light of the evening fade from the rocks above the narrow strait. Beneath him the waters of the deep sound were still, and only beat with a pleasant, clappering sound on the rocks. A quick and desperate resolve stirred in Wat's heart. He stripped himself of his upper clothes, and, leaving all but his shirt and his knee-breeches among the rocks, he bound these upon his head, fastening them with his soldier's belt under his chin. Then, without pausing a moment to give his resolution time to cool, he dropped into the water and swam straight across the narrow, rock-walled strait towards the black rampart line of the cliffs of Lianacraig. He was well aware that he had taken his life in his hand, for from the side of the sea these grim crags had apparently never been scaled by human foot. But Wat had another idea than climbing in his mind. As he had watched the waves glide without sound or rebound into the great square arch which yawned in the midst of the rocky face, a belief had grown into certainty within him that the passage must be connected with another arm of the sea at the farther side of the cliffs. With quick, characteristic resolve he determined to discover if this supposition were correct. He found no difficulty in swimming across the narrow strait of Fiara, in spite of a curious dancing undertow which now threw him almost out of the water, and anon mischievously plucked him by the feet as if to drag him bodily down to the bottom. Presently, however, he found himself close underneath the loom of the cliffs, and the great black archway, driven squarely into their centre, yawned above him.