nd
the armour of which is composed of ten thousand pieces, artistically
adjusted and welded together--the sea-urchin, which is popularly called,
for some unknown reason, "Aristotle's lantern," wears away the granite
with his five teeth, and lodges himself in the hole. It is in such holes
that the samphire gatherers find them. They cut them in halves and eat
them raw, like an oyster. Some steep their bread in the soft flesh.
Hence its other name, "Sea-egg."

The tips of the further reefs, left out of the water by the receding
tide, extended close under the escarpment of "The Man" to a sort of
creek, enclosed nearly on all sides by rocky walls. Here was evidently a
possible harbourage. It had the form of a horse-shoe, and opened only on
one side to the east wind, which is the least violent of all winds in
that sea labyrinth. The water was shut in there, and almost motionless.
The shelter seemed comparatively safe. Gilliatt, moreover, had not much
choice.

If he wished to take advantage of the low water, it was important to
make haste.

The weather continued to be fine and calm. The insolent sea was for a
while in a gentle mood.

Gilliatt descended, put on his shoes again, unmoored the cable,
re-embarked, and pushed out into the water. He used the oars, coasting
the side of the rock.

Having reached "The Man Rock," he examined the entrance to the little
creek.

A fixed, wavy line in the motionless sea, a sort of wrinkle,
imperceptible to any eye but that of a sailor, marked the channel.

Gilliatt studied for a moment its lineament, almost indistinct under the
water; then he held off a little in order to veer at ease, and steer
well into channel; and suddenly with a stroke of the oars he entered the
little bay.

He sounded.

The anchorage appeared to be excellent.

The sloop would be protected there against almost any of the
contingencies of the season.

The most formidable reefs have quiet nooks of this sort. The ports which
are thus found among the breakers are like the hospitality of the fierce
Bedouin--friendly and sure.

Gilliatt placed the sloop as near as he could to "The Man," but still
far enough to escape grazing the rock; and he cast his two anchors.

That done, he crossed his arms, and reflected on his position.

The sloop was sheltered. Here was one problem solved. But another
remained. Where could he now shelter himself?

He had the choice of two places: the sloop itself, with its corner o