On the fourth day his raving ceased:  but he was still too weak to be moved.  Toward noon, however, he called for food, ate a little, and seemed revived.

“Will,” he said, after awhile, “this room is as stifling as it is dark.  I feel as if I should be a sound man once more if I could but get one snuff of the sea-breeze.”

The surgeon shook his head at the notion of moving him:  but Amyas was peremptory.

“I am captain still, Tom Surgeon, and will sail for the Indies, if I choose.  Will Cary, Jack Brimblecombe, will you obey a blind general?”

“What you will in reason,” said they both at once.

“Then lead me out, my masters, and over the down to the south end.  To the point at the south end I must go; there is no other place will suit.”

And he rose firmly to his feet, and held out his hands for theirs.

“Let him have his humor,” whispered Cary.  “It may be the working off of his madness.”

“This sudden strength is a note of fresh fever, Mr. Lieutenant,” said the surgeon, “and the rules of the art prescribe rather a fresh blood-letting.”

Amyas overheard the last word, and broke out: 

“Thou pig-sticking Philistine, wilt thou make sport with blind Samson?  Come near me to let blood from my arm, and see if I do not let blood from thy coxcomb.  Catch him, Will, and bring him me here!”

The surgeon vanished as the blind giant made a step forward; and they set forth, Amyas walking slowly, but firmly, between his two friends.

“Whither?” asked Cary.

“To the south end.  The crag above the Devil’s-limekiln.  No other place will suit.”

Jack gave a murmur, and half-stopped, as a frightful suspicion crossed him.

“That is a dangerous place!”

“What of that?” said Amyas, who caught his meaning in his tone.  “Dost think I am going to leap over cliff?  I have not heart enough for that.  On, lads, and set me safe among the rocks.”

So slowly, and painfully, they went on, while Amyas murmured to himself: 

“No, no other place will suit; I can see all thence.”

So on they went to the point, where the cyclopean wall of granite cliff which forms the western side of Lundy, ends sheer in a precipice of some three hundred feet, topped by a pile of snow-white rock, bespangled with golden lichens.  As they approached, a raven, who sat upon the topmost stone, black against the bright blue sky, flapped lazily away, and sank down the abysses of the cliff, as if he scented the corpses underneath the surge.  Below them from the Gull-rock rose a thousand birds, and filled the air with sound; the choughs cackled, the hacklets wailed, the great blackbacks laughed querulous defiance at the intruders, and a single falcon, with an angry bark, dashed out from beneath their feet, and hung poised high aloft, watching the sea-fowl which swung slowly round and round below.