gle of the block, he found a mass of superimposed
rocks, probably fragments of the fallen summit. These rocks, looking
like a heap of giant paving-stones, would have left room for a wild
beast, if one could have found its way there, to secrete himself between
them. They supported themselves confusedly one against the other,
leaving interstices like a heap of ruins. They formed neither grottoes
nor caves, but the pile was full of holes like a sponge. One of these
holes was large enough to admit a man.

This recess had a flooring of moss and a few tufts of grass. Gilliatt
could fit himself in it as in a kind of sheath. The recess at its
entrance was about two feet high. It contracted towards the bottom.
Stone coffins sometimes have this form. The mass of rocks behind lying
towards the south-west, the recess was sheltered from the showers, but
was open to the cold north wind.

Gilliatt was satisfied with the place.

The two chief problems were solved; the sloop had a harbour, and he had
found a shelter.

The chief merit of his cave was its accessibility from the wreck.

The grappling-iron of the knotted cord having fallen between two blocks,
had become firmly hooked, but Gilliatt rendered it more difficult to
give way by rolling a huge stone upon it.

He was now free to operate at leisure upon the Durande.

Henceforth he was at home.

The Great Douvre was his dwelling; the Durande was his workshop.

Nothing was more simple for him than going to and fro, ascending and
descending.

He dropped down easily by the knotted cord on to the deck.

The day's work was a good one, the enterprise had begun well; he was
satisfied, and began to feel hungry.

He untied his basket of provisions, opened his knife, cut a slice of
smoked beef, took a bite out of his brown loaf, drank a draught from his
can of fresh water, and supped admirably.

To do well and eat well are two satisfactions. A full stomach resembles
an easy conscience.

This supper was ended, and there was still before him a little more
daylight. He took advantage of it to begin the lightening of the
wreck--an urgent necessity.

He had passed part of the day in gathering up the fragments. He put on
one side, in the strong compartment which contained the machine, all
that might become of use to him, such as wood, iron, cordage, and
canvas. What was useless he cast into the sea.

The cargo of the sloop hoisted on to the deck by the capstan, compact as
he had