d was a vast portal in the midst of the sea. It
might have been a titanic cromlech planted there in mid-ocean by hands
accustomed to proportion their labours to the great deep. Its wild
outline stood well defined against the clear sky when Gilliatt
approached in his sloop.

The rocks, thus holding fast and exhibiting their prey, were terrible to
behold. There was a menace in the attitude of the rocks. They seemed to
be biding their time. Nothing could be more suggestive of haughtiness
and arrogance: the conquered vessel, the triumphant abyss. The two
rocks, still streaming with the tempest of the day before, were like two
wrestlers sweating from a recent struggle. Up to a certain height they
were completely bearded with seaweed; above this their steep haunches
glittered at points like polished armour. They seemed ready to begin the
strife again. The imagination might have pictured them as two monstrous
arms, reaching upwards from the gulf, and exhibiting to the tempest the
lifeless body of the ship. If Gilliatt had known how she came to be
there, he might have been more awed by the tremendous spectacle. The
cause was an accident, and yet a purposed act.

Clubin, the captain, as smug a hypocrite as ever scuttled a ship, had
intended to run the Durande on the Hanways. His belt contained three
thousand pounds. He meant to lose the ship on the Hanways, a mile from
shore, and when the passengers had rowed away, pretending that he would
go down with the ship, Clubin purposed to swim to land, get on board a
pirate ship, and be off to the East. His little drama had been acted
out; the boats had rowed away, everybody praising Captain Clubin, who
would not abandon his ship. But when the fog cleared--horror of
horrors!--Clubin found himself not on the Hanways, but on the Douvres;
not one mile from shore, but five miles!

Clubin saw a ship in the distance. He determined to swim to a rock from
which he could be seen, and make signals of distress. He undressed,
leaving his clothing on deck. He retained nothing but his leather belt,
and then, precipitating himself head first, plunged into the sea. As he
dived from a height, he plunged heavily. He sank deep in the water,
touched the bottom, skirted for a moment the submarine rocks, then
struck out to regain the surface. At that moment he felt himself seized
by one foot.

But of all this Gilliatt, arriving at the Douvres, knew nothing. He was
absorbed by the spectacle of the ship he