booming from the outer
ravine before his eyes could certify how the tide had made hours'
advance, and was coming in with a strong, resistless swell that would
make short work with the best swimmer alive. He scrambled up to a
shoulder to get a sight of the reefs that had helped him on his way; the
nearest was already gone, and a tumbling whirlpool marked its place.
Except in the slack of the ebb it were madness to make the attempt.
Sunlight still touched the heights, but the quick southern twilight makes
short stand against night. Without question, till daybreak came with
another ebb, on the Isle Sinister must he abide.

To make the best of his case, he sought while daylight lasted after
shell-fish to stay his growing hunger. Then in the dusk he gathered dry
weed and spread it for his couch on a ledge as high above the tide-mark
as he could reach. It was a lateral cleft, as good for his purpose as any
there. But he selected it not wholly with regard to comfort of body; its
high remove above the mysterious footprints lent it best recommendation.
For with growing darkness came a dread upon him; in an access of arrant
superstition he conceived of some unimaginable thing stealing near upon
woman's feet. Reason stood up for a mild human presence if any, but on
ground no better than a quicksand, very lacking in substantial elements.
Whence had those feet come? whither had they gone? He could not imagine a
hiding too fine for his best vigilance, not in the open at least, in
directions that the footprints positively indicated.

As darkness fell, all the tales that had made the place sinister in name
and reputation came thronging his mind, assuming an aspect more grim than
they ever before had worn. The resolution, the firm reason he had relied
on for defence, began to quail before dread odds. What wonder? That day
such an assault against reason had been made, such a breach lay wide and
unrepaired, as left self-possession hard bestead. Then was he faithful to
right worship; he prayed, and mortal terror invested him no longer.

Though faulty, ignorant, superstitious, the young fisher was, a rare
sincerity ruled his spirit, an essential quality if prayer be to any
purpose, even great in efficacy by its own intrinsic value.

As, crossing himself, he lay down and turned to sleep, plainly above the
surf the Warders returned him the sound of a far-off bell--of three bells
tolling together. He knew the voice of the House Monitory. Mos