“Likely enough, sir, likely enough,” replied the man after a pause; but he spoke in a way that assured Mr. Wesley that he knew very well that the sounds had not come from a thunderstorm, however distant. He had had plenty of experience of thunderstorms, near at hand as well as far off. “Or Admiral Hawke's ships--might not some of the Admiral's fleet have come within a mile or two of the coast and discharged their carronades?” Wesley suggested. “Ay, sir, the boom of a ship's gun carries a long way on the water,” said the fisherman, but in a tone that suggested graver doubt than before. “'Tis clear you are convinced that what you heard was stranger than either thunder or gunpowder,” said he. “Nay, sir, what I am thinking of is the sudden uprise of the sea,” said Polwhele. “Without warning our smack began to sway so that the mast well-nigh went by the board, albeit there was ne'er a draught o' wind. And there was summat besides that I kept back from all the world.” “A greater mystery still?” said Wesley. “The biggest of all, sir; after the last rumblings my mates thought that we had been long enough anchored on the fishing bank; so we got in the grapple and laid out sweeps to pull the smack to the shore.” He made another pause, and looked into the face of his auditor and then out seawards. He took a step or two away and stood thoughtfully with pursed out lips. “And then?” said Wesley. “And then, sir, then--sir, the oar blades refused to sink. They struck on something hard, though not with the hardness of a rock or even a sand bank. 'Twas like as if they had fallen on a floating dead body--I know what the feel is, sir. When the _Gloriana_, East Indiaman, went ashore forty years agone, and broke up on the Teeth--you know the reef, sir--we were coming on the bodies o' the crew for weeks after, as they came to the surface, as bodies will after eight days--some say ten, but I stick to eight.” “But if you came upon the body of a drowned man the night before last you would surely have reported it, Polwhele,” said Wesley.