Truly there was enough—­and more than enough—­to claim the most anxious attention of all who were on board of the Sunshine that morning, for hot mud was still falling in showers on the deck, and the thunders of the great volcano were still shaking heaven, earth, and sea.

To clear the decks and sails of mud occupied every one for some time so earnestly that they failed to notice at first that the hermit had come on deck, found a shovel, and was working away like the rest of them.  The frequent and prolonged blazes of intense light that ever and anon banished the darkness showed that on his face there sat an expression of calm, settled, triumphant joy, which was strangely mingled with a look of quiet humility.

“I thank God for this,” said Nigel, going forward when he observed him and grasping his hand.

“You knew it?” exclaimed the hermit in surprise.

“Yes.  I knew it—­indeed, helped to bring you together, but did not dare to tell you till I was quite sure.  I had hoped to have you meet in very different circumstances.”

“‘It is not in man that walketh to direct his steps,’” returned the hermit reverently.  “God bless you, Nigel.  If you have even aimed at bringing this about, I owe you more than my life.”

“You must have lost a good deal of blood, Van der Kemp.  Are you much hurt?” asked Nigel, as he observed the bandage round his friend’s head.

“Somewhat.  Not much, I hope—­but joy, as well as blood, gives strength, Nigel.”

A report from a man who had just been ordered to take soundings induced the captain at this time to lay-to.

“It seems to me,” he said to Nigel and the hermit who stood close beside him, “that we are getting too near shore.  But in cases o’ this kind the bottom o’ the sea itself can’t be depended on.”

“What part of the shore are we near, d’ you think, father?”

“Stand by to let go the anchor!” roared the captain, instead of answering the question.

“Ay, ay, sir,” replied the second mate, whose cool, sing-song, business-like tone at such a moment actually tended to inspire a measure of confidence in those around him.

Another moment, and the rattling chain caused a tremor through the vessel, which ceased when the anchor touched bottom, and they rode head to wind.  Coruscations of bluish light seemed to play about the masts, and balls of electric fire tipped the yards, throwing for a short time a ghastly sheen over the ship and crew, for the profound darkness had again settled down, owing, no doubt, to another choking of the Krakatoa vent.

Before the light referred to went out, Moses was struck violently on the chest by something soft, which caused him to stagger.