If ever miserable wretch prayed for the light of returning day that
wretch was Harry Vine. It seemed hours of agony, during which the water
hissed and surged all round him as if in search of the victim who had
escaped, before the faint light in the east began to give promise of the
morn.
Two or three times over he had noted a lantern far out toward the
distant harbour, but to all appearances the search had ceased for the
night, and he was too cold and mentally stunned to heed that now.
He had some idea of where he must be--some three miles from the little
harbour, but he could not be sure, and the curve outward of the land hid
the distant light.
Once or twice he must have slept and dreamed in a fevered way, for he
started into wakefulness with a cry of horror, to sit chilled and
helpless for the rest of the night, trying to think out his future, but
in a confused, dreamy way that left him where he had started at the
first.
As day broke he knew exactly where he was, recollecting the rock as one
to which he had before now rowed with one of the fishermen, the deep
chasms at its base being a favourite resort of conger. Hard by were the
two zorns to which they had made the excursion that day, and searched
for specimens for his father's hobby--that day when he had overbalanced
himself and fallen in.
Those zorns! either of those caves would form a hiding-place.
"That is certain to be seen," he said bitterly; and with the feeling
upon him that even then some glass might be directed toward the isolated
rock on which he sat, a hundred yards from the cliff, in a part where
the shore was never bared even at the lowest tides, he began to lower
himself into the deep water to swim ashore and climb up the face of the
cliff in search of some hiding-place.
He was bitterly cold and longing for the sunshine, so that he might gain
a little warmth for his chilled limbs; and under the circumstances it
seemed in his half-dried condition painful in the extreme to plunge into
the water again.
Half in he held on by the side of the barnacle-covered rock, and scanned
the face of the cliff, nearly perpendicular facing there, and seeming to
offer poor foothold unless he were daring in the extreme.
He was too weak and weary to attempt it, and he turned his eyes to the
right with no better success.
"Better give up," he said bitterly. "I couldn't do it now."
As he gazed to his left the rock, however, seemed more practicable.
There was a chasm there, up which it would certainly be possible to
climb, and, feeling more hopeful, he was about to make the attempt, when
a flush of excitement ran through him. There in full view, not fifty
yards to the left, was the zigzag water-way up which they had sent the
boat that day toward the narrow hole at the foot of the cliff, the
little entrance to the cavern into which he had swum, and there sat for
his own amusement, startling the occupants of the boat.
"The very place!" he thought. "No one would find me there."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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