--the sleeping sea.

Two or three little brown, sparrow-like birds twittered in the bushes
near, and looked askance, as if they would question the man's right to
walk there. One or two active lizards ran across his path, pausing now
and then, and glancing upwards as if in great surprise.

Christian smiled sadly as he looked at them, then turned to breast the
hill.

It was a rugged climb. Towards the top, where he diverged to the cave,
every step became more difficult.

Reaching the hole where Isaac Martin had come by his misadventure,
Christian descended by means of a rude ladder which he had constructed
and let down into it. Entering the cave, he rested his musket against
the wall of rock, and sat down on a ledge near the opening towards the
sea. It was a giddy height. As he sat there with hands clasped over
one knee and eyes fixed wistfully on the horizon, his right foot, thrust
a little beyond the edge of the rock, overhung a tremendous precipice,
many hundred feet deep.

For a long time he gazed so steadfastly and remained so motionless as to
seem a portion of the rock itself. Then he heaved a sigh that relieved
the pent-up feelings of an overburdened soul.

"So early!" he muttered, in a scarcely audible voice. "At the very
beginning of life, just when hope, health, manhood, and opportunity were
at the flood."

He stopped, and again remained motionless for a long time. Then,
continuing in the same low, sad tone, but without altering his position
or his wistful gaze.

"And _now_, an outlaw, an outcast, doomed, if taken, to a felon's death!
Comrades seduced to their ruin! The brand of Cain not more terrible
than mine! Self-exiled for life! Never, _never_ more to see friends,
country, kindred, sisters--mother! God help me!"

He laid his face in his hands and groaned aloud. Again he was silent,
and remained without motion for nearly an hour.

"_Can_ it be true?" he cried in a voice of suppressed agony, looking up
as if expecting an answer from heaven. "Shall I never, never, _never_
awake from this hideous dream!"

The conscience-smitten young man laid strong constraint upon himself and
became calmer. When the sun began to approach the horizon he rose, and
with an air of stern resolution, set about making various arrangements
in the cave.

From the first Fletcher Christian had fixed on this cavern as a retreat,
in case his place of refuge should be discovered. His hope was that, if
a man-o