ll in between the points of a sandy
bay surrounded by low hills.

The sea was here quite quiet; there was no sound of any surf; the moon
shone clear, and I thought in my heart I had never seen a place so
desert and desolate. But it was dry land; and when at last it grew so
shallow that I could leave the yard and wade ashore upon my feet, I
cannot tell if I was more tired or more grateful. Both at least, I was;
tired as I never was before that night; and grateful to God, as I trust
I have been often, though never with more cause.

With my stepping ashore, I began the most unhappy part of my adventures.
It was half-past twelve in the morning, and though the wind was broken
by the land, it was a cold night. I dared not sit down (for I thought I
should have frozen), but took off my shoes and walked to and fro upon
the sand, barefoot and beating my breast with infinite weariness. There
was no sound of man or cattle; not a cock crew, though it was about the
hour of their first waking; only the surf broke outside in the distance,
which put me in mind of my perils. To walk by the sea at that hour of
the morning, and in a place so desert-like and lonesome, struck me with
a kind of fear.

As soon as the day began to break, I put on my shoes and climbed a
hill--the ruggedest scramble I ever undertook--falling, the whole way
between big blocks of granite or leaping from one to another. When I got
to the top the dawn was come. There was no sign of the brig, which must
have been lifted from the reef and sunk. The boat, too, was nowhere to
be seen. There was never a sail upon the ocean; and in what I could see
of the land, was neither house nor man.

I was afraid to think what had befallen my ship-mates, and afraid to
look longer at so empty a scene. What with my wet clothes and weariness,
and my belly that now began to ache with hunger, I had enough to trouble
me without that. So I set off eastward along the south coast, hoping to
find a house where I might warm myself, and perhaps get news of those I
had lost. And at the worst, I considered the sun would soon rise and dry
my clothes.

After a little, my way was stopped by a creek or inlet of the sea, which
seemed to run pretty deep into the land; and as I had no means to get
across, I must needs change my direction to go about the end of it. It
was still the roughest kind of walking; indeed the whole, not only of
Earraid, but of the neighboring part of Mull (which they call the