gs, when the
boat goes up and down. It must be that villain of a tipsy Joe, who used
to keep the 'Monument.' I heard that he was come back again, to stump
for his beer as usual: and his son, that sings like the big church bell,
and has such a very fine face and one leg--why, he is the man that pulls
the other oar. Was there ever such a boat-load? But they know what they
are doing."

Truly it was, as the young lady said, an extraordinary boat's crew. Old
Robin Cockscroft, with a fringe of silver hair escaping from the crimson
silk, which he valued so much more than it, and his face still grand (in
spite of wrinkles and some weakness of the eyes), keenly understanding
every wave, its character, temper, and complexity of influence, as only
a man can understand who has for his life stood over them. Then tugging
at the oars, or rather dipping them with a short well-practiced plunge,
and very little toil of body, two ancient sailors, one considerably
older than the other, inasmuch as he was his father, yet chips alike
from a sturdy block, and fitted up with jury-stumps. Old Joe pulled
rather the better oar, and called his son "a one-legged fiddler" when he
missed the dip of wave; while Mordacks stood with his leg's apart, and
playing the easy part of critic, had his sneers at both of them. But
they let him gibe to his liking; because they knew their work, and he
did not. And, upon the whole, they went merrily.

The only one with any doubt concerning the issue of the job was the one
who knew most about it, and that was Robin Cockscroft. He doubted not
about want of strength, or skill, or discipline of his oars, but because
the boat was not Flamburian, but borrowed from a collier round the Head.
No Flamborough boat would ever think of putting to sea on a Sunday,
unless it were to save human life; and it seemed to him that no strange
boat could find her way into the native caves. He doubted also whether,
even with the pressure of strong motive put upon him, which was not of
money, it was a godly thing on his part to be steering in his Sunday
clothes; and he feared to hear of it thereafter. But being in for it, he
must do his utmost.

With genuine skill and solid patience, the entrance of the cave was
made, and the boat was lost to Janetta's view. She as well was lost in
the deeper cavern of great wonder, and waited long, and much desired
to wait even longer, to see them issue forth again, and learn what they
could have been a