e following of bad luck.
Defend us from one spying us here.'

The boy glanced about with anxiety, giving special scrutiny to one high
cliff opposite. There, scarcely distinguishable from the crags, stood up
a grey tower, the bell-tower of an ancient devout institution, the House
Monitory. His face grew rigid under a sudden apprehension. If he were
sighted from above, what should stay those bells from knelling for him.
He held his breath, and listened for them to break silence on the
instant, realising one peril which he had not before considered. 'Hark!'
would go the word, 'why does the House Monitory ring? in daylight, in
fair weather? Who can be in peril off the Isle Sinister?' From cliffs to
coves the word would drop, and start the swiftest sails out to
investigate, for his exposure to ridicule or worse.

In a past century three bells had been towered there: consecrated and
named after three Saints, to knell for souls that passed, unconfessed,
unhouseled, in that place of wrecks; to be potent against the dominion of
powers darker than death, too regnant there. The best, the only, succour
was this that human fellowship could accomplish for doomed lives. Now,
though cultured intelligence smiled at the larger superstition, the
simple held it at its old worth; and still, to the comfort of their
souls, a pious community kept the custom, serving the bells; and for
their more tangible welfare tended a beacon light.

A little chill ran in the boy's veins as he anticipated the outbreak of
those ominous bells; never yet had they rung for any, far involved as he,
who had known escape. He betook himself more desperately to his
endeavour. Necessity pressed him hard, for the tide ran, and suddenly
declared that retreat to the open sea was cut off: where he had sailed
free channels rocks grinned; reason withstood a fancy that they had lain
in ambush, and risen actually to hem him in. Twice he risked with the
narrowest of chances, and slid safe on the heave of a wave; on the third
challenge a treacherous, swirling eddy caught the boat, swung it aslant,
crashed it upon a lurking rock. A plank gave way splintered, and water
spirted within.

The boy rowed desperate, straining by quick strokes and few, after
deliverance from the narrows. Yet when he dared to lay aside the oars for
an instant to check the leak, the boat was pitching with threats close in
on every side. He could spare only a moment to catch up his coat, plug
with it h