but think of yourselves. One of you, remember, must go and
see Czerny now; I think it had better be you, captain."

I said yes, I would go willingly; and added, "when the right time
comes." The time was not yet, I knew--when men walked above our heads
and were waking. But when it came I would not hold back for my
shipmates' sake.

We had a few biscuits among us, which prudent men had put in their
pockets after last night's meal; and, my own flask being full of water,
we sat down in the darkness of the cellar and made such a meal as we
could. Minute by minute now it became more plain to me that I must do
as Duncan Gray said, and go up to find Czerny himself. Food we had
none, save the few biscuits in our hands; salt was the water in the
crimson pool behind us. Beyond that were the caverns and the fog. It
was just all or nothing; the plain challenge to the master of this
place, "Give us shelter and food" or the sleep which knows no waking.
Do you wonder that I made up my mind to risk all on a journey which,
were it for life or death, would carry us, at last, beyond the doubt
and uncertainty?

We passed the afternoon sleeping and dozing, as tired men might. Voices
we heard from time to time; the moan of the sea was always with us--a
strange, wild song, long-drawn and rolling, as though the water played
above our very heads in the gentle sport of a Pacific calm. At a
dwelling more remarkable than the one we were about to enter no man has
knocked or will knock in all the years to come. We were like human
animals which burrow in a rocky bank a mile from any land. There were
mysteries and wonders above, I made sure; and there was always the
doubt, such doubt as comes to men who go to a merciless enemy and say,
"Give us bread."

Now, I left my comrades at ten o'clock that night, when all sounds had
died away above and the voice of the sea growing angrier told me that
my steps would not be heard.

"I shall go to Czerny, lads," said I, at the moment of leaving them,
"and he will hear the story. I'll do my best for good shipmates, trust
me; and if I do not come back--well, you'll know that I cannot. Good
night, old comrades. We've sailed many a sea together and we'll sail
many another yet, God willing."

They all cried "Aye, aye, sir!" and pressed my hand with that affection
I knew they bore me. Little Dolly Venn, indeed, pleaded hard to
accompany me; but it seemed plain that, if life were to be risked, one
alone should r