was he to risk
his vessel in the depth of black night in that inextricable labyrinth,
that ambuscade of shoals?

There was not help for it. He must wait for the morrow. These six hours
lost, entailed a loss of twelve hours at least.

He could not even advance the labour by opening the mouth of the gorge.
His breakwater was necessary against the next tide.

He was compelled to rest. Folding his arms was almost the only thing
which he had not yet done since his arrival on the rocks.

This forced inaction irritated, almost vexed him with himself, as if it
had been his fault. He thought "what would Deruchette say of me if she
saw me thus doing nothing?"

And yet this interval for regaining his strength was not unnecessary.

The sloop was now at his command; he determined to pass the night in
it.

He mounted once more to fetch his sheepskin upon the Great Douvre;
descended again, supped off a few limpets and _chataignes de mer_,
drank, being very thirsty, a few draughts of water from his can, which
was nearly empty, enveloped himself in the skin, the wool of which felt
comforting, lay down like a watch-dog beside the engine, drew his red
cap over his eyes and slept.

His sleep was profound. It was such sleep as men enjoy who have
completed a great labour.

X

SEA-WARNINGS

In the middle of the night he awoke suddenly and with a jerk like the
recoil of a spring.

He opened his eyes.

The Douvres, rising high over his head, were lighted up as by the white
glow of burning embers. Over all the dark escarpment of the rock there
was a light like the reflection of a fire.

Where could this fire come from?

It was from the water.

The aspect of the sea was extraordinary.

The water seemed a-fire. As far as the eye could reach, among the reefs
and beyond them, the sea ran with flame. The flame was not red; it had
nothing in common with the grand living fires of volcanic craters or of
great furnaces. There was no sparkling, no glare, no purple edges, no
noise. Long trails of a pale tint simulated upon the water the folds of
a winding-sheet. A trembling glow was spread over the waves. It was the
spectre of a great fire, rather than the fire itself. It was in some
degree like the glow of unearthly flames lighting the inside of a
sepulchre. A burning darkness.

The night itself, dim, vast, and wide-diffused, was the fuel of that
cold flame. It was a strange illumination issuing out of blindness. The
sha