*CHAPTER XXXIX* *THE CLEFT IN THE ROCK* ’Let us get in nearer to the land,’ said the Dominie; ’’tis the sole chance that remains to us.’ So seizing each of us an oar, the sea being perfectly calm and a full tide lapsing as smoothly upon the cliffs as the water in a tub wherein good wives wash their duds, we risked the matter and rowed in closer to the rock. We sought if by good chance there might be found some inlet where we could land, or some cave which might conceal us from the cruel men who were seeking our lives. Nor was our adventuring in vain, for as we cautiously advanced into the blackness, the wall of the cliff seemed to retire before us, so that the prow of the boat actually appeared to push it steadily back. A denser darkness, a very night of Egypt, surrounded us. Gradually the noise of the pursuers dulled, sank, and died away. We lost sight of the grey, uneasy plain of the sea behind us, and continued to advance through a long water passage walled with rock, the sides of which we could sometimes feel with our hands and sometimes fail to touch with our oars. This I took at the time to be a marvellous dispensation of Providence on our behalf, as without doubt it was. But now we know that all that shoreward country, owing to the abundance of soft stone by the seaside, is honeycombed with caves, so that it was well-nigh impossible to miss at least one of these in every half mile of cliff all about the Heads of Benerard. Yet that we should strike this one of all others appeared a thing worthy of admiration, as presently you shall hear, and showed the same dispensing and favourable Providence which has throughout been on the side of Culzean and against our enemies of Bargany. Marjorie and Nell still sat together in the stern, but so dense was the dark that we could see nothing of them. The Dominie and I took our oars from the rullocks and pushed onward into the cave, hoping to come in time to some wider space, where we could either disembark or find a passage out upon the land above us. And so presently we came to a place wonderful enough in itself, yet no more than the gateway to other and greater marvels. The waves which had scarcely been visible out on the open sea ran into the cave at regular intervals, and in the narrow places formed themselves into a considerable swell of water. Before us we could hear them break with a noise like thunder upon some hidden strand or beach. This somewhat terrified us in that place of horrid darkness, for the noise was loud as is a waterfall in the time of spate, the echoing of the cave and the many contracted passages and wide halls deceiving the ear.