He who was in turn the swimmer was now close. When a fathom away he leaned back and began to tread water steadily. In his right hand he grasped the boat-hook. The man in the boat knew that to stay where he was meant certain death. He gathered himself together like a crouching cat. Mànus kept treading the water slowly, but with the hook ready so that the sharp iron spike at the end of it should transfix his foe if he came at him with a leap. Now and again he laughed. Then in his low sweet voice, but brokenly at times, between his deep breathings, he began to sing: The tide was dark an’ heavy with the burden that it bore, I heard it talkin’, whisperin’, upon the weedy shore: Each wave that stirred the sea-weed was like a closing door, ’Tis closing doors they hear at last who hear no more, no more, My Grief, No more! The tide was in the salt sea-weed, and like a knife it tore; The wild sea-wind went moaning, sooing, moaning o’er and o’er; The deep sea-heart was brooding deep upon its ancient lore, I heard the sob, the sooing sob, the dying sob at its core, My Grief, Its core! The white sea-waves were wan and grey, its ashy lips before, The yeast within its ravening mouth was red with streaming gore-- O red sea-weed, O red sea-waves, O hollow baffled roar, Since one thou hast, O dark, dim sea, why callest thou for more, My Grief, For more! In the quiet moonlight the chant, with its long slow cadences, sung as no other man in the Isles could sing it, sounded sweet and remote beyond words to tell. The glittering shine was upon the water of the haven, and moved in waving lines of fire along the stone ledges. Sometimes a fish rose, and spilt a ripple of pale gold; or a sea-nettle swam to the surface, and turned its blue or greenish globe of living jelly to the moon dazzle. The man in the water made a sudden stop in his treading, and listened intently. Then once more the phosphorescent light gleamed about his slow-moving shoulders. In a louder chanting voice came once again, Each wave that stirs the sea-weed is like a closing door, ’Tis closing doors they hear at last who hear no more, no more, My Grief, No more!