land and drag it back into the lurid sea of blood; altogether a
cruel, weird-looking scene, fantastic, unreal, and bizarre as one of
Dore's marvellous conceptions.  Suddenly on the red waters there
appeared a black speck, rising and falling with the restless waves,
and ever drawing nearer and nearer to the gloomy cliffs and sandy
beach.  When within a quarter of a mile of the shore, the speck
resolved itself into a boat, a mere shallop, painted a dingy white,
and much battered by the waves as it tossed lightly on the crimson
waters.  It had one mast and a small sail all torn and patched, which
by some miracle held together, and swelling out to the wind drew the
boat nearer to the land.  In this frail craft were two men, one of
whom was kneeling in the prow of the boat shading his eyes from the
sunlight with his hands and gazing eagerly at the cliffs, while the
other sat in the centre with bowed head, in an attitude of sullen
resignation, holding the straining sail by a stout rope twisted
round his arm.  Neither of them spoke a word till within a short
distance of the beach, when the man at the look-out arose, tall and
gaunt, and stretched out his hands to the inhospitable-looking coast
with a harsh, exulting laugh.