"There is a way over the rock," said Jarvo, "partly hewn, partly
natural, and this is known to the islanders alone. That way we must
take. It is marked by a White Blade blazoned on the rock over the
entrance of the submarines. The way is cunningly concealed--hardly
will the glass reveal it, adon."
Barnay shook his head.
"You've a bad time comin' with the home-sickness," he prophesied,
tucking his beard far down in his collar until he looked, for
Barnay, smooth-shaven. "I've sailed the sou' Atlantic up an' down
fer a matther av four hundhred years, more or less, an' I niver as
much as seed hide _nor_ hair av the place before this prisint. There
ain't map or chart that iver dhrawed breath that shows ut, new or
old. Ut's been lifted out o' ground to be afther swallowin' us in--a
sweet dose will be the lot av us, mesilf with as foine a gir-rl av
school age as iver you'll see in anny counthry."
"Ah yes, Barnay," said St. George soothingly--but he would have
tried now to soothe a man in the embrace of a sea-serpent in just
the same absent-minded way, Amory thought indulgently.
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