But to them the mention of the Black Rock meant the re-entry of ordinary ideas and homely thoughts. It lay out there in the noonday sunlight beside the sunlit sea. It was part of the pastoral land where people sang and trees waved their leaves and winds bore perfumes. There was nothing more disquieting about it than about a ship, or a house, or a rampart. O'Brien's thoughts had now gone back to their ordinary course. If this light came from anywhere near the Black Rock, might it not have something to do with the Puffing Hole? The question was fascinating, alluring. It might prove a beacon to discovery. "Where do you think it is from, Phelan?" he asked, in a whisper. "Somewhere near the Black Rock. I can't say exactly where." "What do you believe it is?" "A corpse-candle. The corpse-candle of the men that the Rock killed." "Nonsense! You ought to know better. A corpse-candle is not for the dead--it's for the living." "Above ground it may be so. But under ground it may be different." "Let us go and see what it is." "Not a stroke." "What, Phelan!--afraid again? There's hardly a thing you are not afraid of." "I'm not afraid of you or any other man." "If you don't go to it with me, I'll swim to it." "If you do, it will be _your_ corpse-candle." "I don't care. If you won't go, I'll swim to it. If you don't make up your mind while I'm counting twenty, I'll dive off and swim." "It would be murder to let you, O'Brien. Put it out of your head. We won't let you go." None of the men could see where another was standing. O'Brien laughed. "You can't touch me--you can't stop me." "Whisht--whisht! For heaven's sake, don't laugh. This is no place for laughing with that candle before you." O'Brien laughed softly, and counted, "One." "If you laugh again, by heavens, I'll throw you in, O'Brien." "Two!" O'Brien laughed. "Then you won't let me count twenty? You launch me on my swim at 'three'?" "He'll bring the cliffs down on us." "Four! Ha, ha, ha!" Up to this the words and the laughter had been in whispers. This time O'Brien counted and laughed out loud. The effect was prodigious. Those vast chambers of solemn night had never before heard human laughter, and they roared and bellowed, and yelled and shrieked, and grumbled, as though furiously calling upon one another to rush together and tear asunder or crush flat the impious intruders who dared to profane with such sounds the sanctuary of their repose. "I'll go," whispered Phelan--"I'll go. But--wait!" A torch was now lit, and by the aid of its fitful flame the four men scrambled into the yawl. The two rowers took their places standing and facing the bow. O'Brien held the flaring torch on high, and the boatmen gave way.