"You've a bad time comin' with the home-sickness," he prophesied,
tucking his beard far down in his collar until he looked, for
Barnay, smooth-shaven. "I've sailed the sou' Atlantic up an' down
fer a matther av four hundhred years, more or less, an' I niver as
much as seed hide _nor_ hair av the place before this prisint. There
ain't map or chart that iver dhrawed breath that shows ut, new or
old. Ut's been lifted out o' ground to be afther swallowin' us in--a
sweet dose will be the lot av us, mesilf with as foine a gir-rl av
school age as iver you'll see in anny counthry."

"Ah yes, Barnay," said St. George soothingly--but he would have
tried now to soothe a man in the embrace of a sea-serpent in just
the same absent-minded way, Amory thought indulgently.

The sun was lowering and birds of evening were beginning to brood
over the painted water when _The Aloha_ cast anchor. In the late
light the rugged sides of the island had an air of almost sinister
expectancy. There was a great silence in their windless shelter
broken only by the boom and charge of the breakers and the gulls and
choughs circling overhead, winging and dipping along the water and
returning with discordant cries to their crannies in the black rock.
Before the yacht, blazoned on a dark, water-polished stratum of the
volcanic stone, was the White Blade which Jarvo told them marked the
subterranean entrance to the mysterious island.

St. George and his companions and Barnay, Jarvo and Akko were on
deck. Rollo, whose soul did not disdain to be valet to a steam
yacht, was tranquilly mending a canvas cushion.

"The adon will wait until sunrise to go ashore?" asked Jarvo.

"_Sunrise_!" cried St. George. "Heaven on earth, no. We'll go now."

There was no need to ask the others. Whatever might be toward, they
were eager to be about, though Rollo ventured to St. George a
deprecatory: "You know, sir, one can't be too careful, sir."

"Will you prefer to stay aboard?" St. George put it quietly.

"Oh, no, sir," said Rollo with a grieved face, "one should meet
danger with a light heart, sir," and went below to pack the
oil-skins.

"Hear me now," said Barnay in extreme disfavour. "It's I that am to
lay hereabouts and wait for you, sorr? Lord be good to me, an' fwhat
if she lays here tin year', and you somewheres fillin' the eyes av
the aygles with your brains blowed out, neat?" he demanded
misanthropically. "Fwhat if she lays here on that gin'ral theory
ti