this point, meaning that we should listen to a couple of gunshots
fired, not in the woods far down below us, but somewhere, as it seemed,
on the sea-beach we had failed to make.

"That would be Harry Doe warning us," cried I.

"And meaning that it was dangerous for us to go down."

"He'll have put off and saved the longboat, anyway. We'll hail him at
dawn, and see where the ship is."

They heard me in silence. The tempest roaring in the peaks above that
weird, wild place; our knowledge of the men on the island below; the
old Frenchman's strange talk--no wonder that our eyes were wide open
and sleep far from them.

Dawn, indeed, we waited for as those who are passing through the
terrible night. I think sometimes that, if we had known what was in
store for us, we should have prayed to God that we might not see the
day.

CHAPTER IX

WE LOOK OUT FOR THE SOUTHERN CROSS

The wind blew a hurricane all that night, and was still a full gale
when dawn broke. To say that no man among us slept is to put down a
very obvious thing. The roaring of the breakers on the reefs below us,
the showers of stones which the heights rained down, the dreadful
noises like wild human voices in the hills, drove sleep far from any
man's eyes. And more than that, there was the ship to think of. What
had become of the ship? Where did she lie? When should we see her
again? Aye, how often we asked each other that question when the blast
thundered and the lightning seemed to open the very heavens, and the
spindrift was blown clean over the heights to fall like a salt spray
upon our faces. Was it well with the ship or ill? Mister Jacob we knew
to be a good seaman, none better. With him the decision lay to run for
the open water or to risk everything for our sakes. If he made up his
mind that the safety of the Southern Cross demanded sea-room he would
take it, and let to-morrow look after itself. But I was anxious, none
the less; for, if the ship were gone, "God help us on Ken's Island," I
said.

Now, the old Frenchman was the first to be moving when the day came,
and no sooner did all the higher peaks show us a glimmer of the
dawn-light--very beautiful and awesome to look upon--than he set up
the ladder and began to show us the way to the mountain-top.

"You make signal; you fetch ship. Sailormen go down where landman
afraid. Little boat come in; shipmate go out. Old Clair-de-Lune he
know. Ah, messieurs, the wind is very dreadful to-day--wha