We who had no mind for sleep sat there beside the fire and watched the sun sink behind the low black line of the mainland, now plainly visible in the cleared air. It dyed the waves blood red, and shot out one long ray to crimson a single floating cloud, no larger than a man's hand, high in the blue. Sea birds, a countless multitude, went to and fro with harsh cries from island to marsh, and marsh to island. The marshes were still green; they lay, a half moon of fantastic shapes, each parted from the other by pink water. Beyond them was the inlet dividing us from the mainland, and that inlet was three leagues in width. We turned and looked seaward. Naught but leaping waves white-capped to the horizon. “We touched here the time we went against the French at Port Royal and St. Croix,” I said. “We had heard a rumor that the Bermuda pirates had hidden gold here. Argall and I went over every foot of it.” “And found no water?” questioned the minister. “And found no water.” The light died from the west and from the sea beneath, and the night fell. When with the darkness the sea fowl ceased their clamor, a dreadful silence suddenly enfolded us. The rush of the surf made no difference; the ear heard it, but to the mind there was no sound. The sky was thick with stars; every moment one shot, and the trail of white fire it left behind melted into the night silently like snowflakes. There was no wind. The moon rose out of the sea, and lent the sandy isle her own pallor. Here and there, back amongst the dunes, the branches of a low and leafless tree writhed upward like dark fingers thrust from out the spectral earth. The ocean, quiet now, dreamed beneath the moon and cared not for the five lives it had cast upon that span of sand. We piled driftwood and tangles of seaweed upon our fire, and it flamed and roared and broke the silence. Diccon, going to the landward side of the islet, found some oysters, which we roasted and ate; but we had nor wine nor water with which to wash them down. “At least there are here no foes to fear,” quoth my lord. “We may all sleep to-night; and zooks! we shall need it!” He spoke frankly, with an open face. “I will take one watch, if you will take the other,” I said to the minister. He nodded. “I will watch until midnight.” It was long past that time when he roused me from where I lay at Mistress Percy's feet. “I should have relieved you long ago,” I told him. He smiled. The moon, now high in the heavens, shone upon and softened his rugged features. I thought I had never seen a face so filled with tenderness and hope and a sort of patient power. “I have been with God,” he said simply. “The starry skies and the great ocean and the little shells beneath my hand,--how wonderful are thy works, O Lord! What is man that thou art mindful of him? And yet not a sparrow falleth”--I rose and sat by the fire, and he laid himself down upon the sand beside me. “Master Sparrow,” I asked, “have you ever suffered thirst?”