Page 526 - for-the-term-of-his-natural-life

with difficulty the steep incline, he found himself on the
brink of a gallery of rock, which, jutting out over the pool,
bore on its moist and weed-bearded edges signs of frequent
submersion. It must be low tide without the rock. Clinging
to the rough and root-like algae that fringed the ever-moist
walls, John Rex crept round the projection of the gallery,
and passed at once from dimness to daylight. There was a
broad loop-hole in the side of the honey-combed and wave-
perforated cliff. The cloudless heaven expanded above him;
a fresh breeze kissed his cheek and, sixty feet below him,
the sea wrinkled all its lazy length, sparkling in myriad
wavelets beneath the bright beams of morning. Not a sign
of the recent tempest marred the exquisite harmony of the
picture. Not a sign of human life gave evidence of the grim
neighbourhood of the prison. From the recess out of which
he peered nothing was visible but a sky of turquoise smiling
upon a sea of sapphire.
The placidity of Nature was, however, to the hunted con-
vict a new source of alarm. It was a reason why the Blow-hole
and its neighbourhood should be thoroughly searched. He
guessed that the favourable weather would be an additional
inducement to McNab and Burgess to satisfy themselves as
to the fate of their late prisoner. He turned from the opening,
and prepared to descend still farther into the rock pathway.
The sunshine had revived and cheered him, and a sort of in-
stinct told him that the cliff, so honey-combed above, could
not be without some gully or chink at its base, which at low
tide would give upon the rocky shore. It grew darker as he
descended, and twice he almost turned back in dread of