ty large
piece of water compared with the size of the isle; well sheltered from
all but the prevailing wind; sandy and shoal and bounded by low
sand-hills to the west, but to the eastward lying several fathoms deep
along a ledge of rocks. It is upon that side that, at a certain time
each flood, the current mentioned by my uncle sets so strong into the
bay; a little later, when the Roost begins to work higher, an undertow
runs still more strongly in the reverse direction; and it is the action
of this last, as I suppose, that has scoured that part so deep. Nothing
is to be seen out of Sandag Bay but one small segment of the horizon
and, in heavy weather, the breakers flying high over a deep-sea reef.

From half-way down the hill I had perceived the wreck of February last,
a brig of considerable tonnage, lying, with her back broken, high and
dry on the east corner of the sands; and I was making directly towards
it, and already almost on the margin of the turf, when my eyes were
suddenly arrested by a spot, cleared of fern and heather, and marked by
one of those long, low, and almost human-looking mounds that we see so
commonly in graveyards. I stopped like a man shot. Nothing had been said
to me of any dead man or interment on the island; Rorie, Mary, and my
uncle had all equally held their peace; of her at least, I was certain
that she must be ignorant; and yet here, before my eyes, was proof
indubitable of the fact. Here was a grave; and I had to ask myself, with
a chill, what manner of man lay there in his last sleep, awaiting the
signal of the Lord in that solitary, sea-beat resting-place? My mind
supplied no answer but what I feared to entertain. Shipwrecked, at
least, he must have been; perhaps, like the old Armada mariners, from
some far and rich land over-sea; or perhaps one of my own race,
perishing within eyesight of the smoke of home. I stood awhile uncovered
by his side, and I could have desired that it had lain in our religion
to put up some prayer for that unhappy stranger, or, in the old classic
way, outwardly to honour his misfortune. I knew, although his bones lay
there, a part of Aros, till the trumpet sounded, his imperishable soul
was forth and far away, among the raptures of the everlasting Sabbath or
the pangs of hell; and yet my mind misgave me even with a fear, that
perhaps he was near me where I stood, guarding his sepulchre, and
lingering on the scene of his unhappy fate.

Certainly it was with a