The sun was bright, but over the sky some clouds were gathering, and the opposite shores seemed to have grown darker than they were a few hours ago, having assumed a hue like olive green.  The wind had also died away, and the water was as smooth as glass.

XIII.

Where’s Solomon?—­An anxious Search.—­The Beach.—­The cavernous Cliffs.—­Up the Precipice.—­Along the Shore.—­Back for Boats.

The loss of Solomon had filled the boys with anxiety, and even Captain Corbet shared in the common feeling.  He had preferred to set out, as he said, with a coil of rope; but the sight of this seemed to make Solomon’s fate appear darker, and looked as though he might have fallen over a precipice, or into a deep pool of water.  They all knew that a serious accident was not at all improbable.  They had seen the lofty and rugged cliffs that lined the bay shore, and knew that the rising waters, as they dashed over them, might form the grave of a man far younger and more active than the aged Solomon.  He was weak and rheumatic; he was also timid and easily confused.  If the water had overtaken him anywhere, he might easily fall a prey.  In his efforts to escape, he would soon become so terrified that his limbs would be paralyzed.  He might then stumble over the rocks, and break some of his bones, or he might be intrapped in some recess of the cliffs, from which escape might be impossible without external help.

Full of thoughts like these, the boys went on, with Captain Corbet, up through the village, looking carefully around as they went on, and making inquiries of every one whom they met.  No one, however, could give them any information.  At last they reached the end of the village.  Here, on the left, there arose a high hill.  The road wound round this, and descended into a valley, through which a stream ran to the bay.  In this valley there was a ship-yard, where the half-finished fabric of a large ship stood before them, and from which the rattle of a hundred axes rose into the air.  The valley itself was a beautiful place, running up among steep hills, till it was lost to view among a mass of evergreen trees and rich foliage.  Below the shipyard was a cove of no very great depth, but of extreme beauty.  Beyond this was a broad beach, which, at the farthest end, was bounded by the projecting headland before alluded to.  The headland was a precipitous cliff of red sandstone, crowned at the summit with a fringe of forest trees, white at its base were two or three hollow caverns, worn into the solid rock by the action of the surf.  One of these was about thirty feet in height at its mouth, and ran back for sixty or seventy feet, narrowing all the way, like a funnel, from its entrance to its farthest extremity.

The tide was now nearly at its height, and progress down the beach and along the cliff was impossible.  The caves were cut off also, and the water penetrated them for some distance.  At low tide one could easily walk down to the extreme point of the headland, and rounding this, he would find it possible to go along in front of the cliffs for an immense distance, either by walking along the rough beach at their foot, or, if the water should rise again, by going along rocky shelves, which projected for miles from the surface of the cliff.