And at last they found it. To be sure it was not much of a landing place, but then it was better than a sheer wall of granite covered with slippery kelp. On the ocean side where the great breakers dashed in with a roar the rock weed had been all torn away by the force of the water. Ages of erosion had worn soft spots in the granite away, too, until there remained a slopping trough into which the water dashed with a hiss and fountained twenty feet in the air.
The constant action on the sloping side had worn the hard stone as smooth as glass and the dashing of the wave plumes had pitted the rock here and there above, so that a man of great agility could hope to gain the top if he moved fast enough and could beat these curling tongues of water that shot against the rock and licked it clean.
“Tiz there ’er no place, Chief,” shouted the foreman to Mr. Warner. Then, as the engineer studied the situation, he shouted again. “May we be per-rtechted whin we tr-ry too; fer if wan o’ thim waves hits yez a slap in t’ back ’twill be Davy Jones’ Locker t’ next stop. They’ll suck yez under in a whink, an’ yez’ll niver see daylight agin. No shwimmin’ yez ivver learnt will save yez agin the undertow.”
“Well, the engineer who made the survey last year did it, O’Brien, and I guess we can do as much,” called Mr. Warner.
“Sure-re yez ’er a Kilkenny cat fer pluck,” said the foreman, “but I’m wid yez. Hi, bhoys, we’ll make a landin’. Tiz me an’ Mr. Warner what does it an’ don’t anither wan o’ yez even think o’ thr-ryin’. Yez hear-r me now. I’ll lick t’ life out o’ eny man who even sthands up in t’ bhoat. Here, Lanky Sims, yez ’er t’ bist sailor in t’ outfit; take t’ tiller and mind yez kape her hull. Jist a shlip an’ she’ll be smashed t’ kindlin’ agin t’ r-rock an’ we’ll all be at t’ bhottom.”
Lanky Sims, a tall, raw-boned Yankee who had been brought up on the high seas, came from the bow and took O’Brien’s place. Mr. Warner turned solemnly and shook hands with Jack and Ray, and O’Brien did the same. Not a word did they utter, but the lads understood, and a lump as big as an apple came into Jack’s throat.
The engineer and the foreman made their way to the bow of the boat. Then Lanky Sims took a fresh quid from a black plug of tobacco, spat over the side and shouted: