That they had sought, and feared to find, was
found.
They came hurrying up, and clustered like cormorants on the slope, Julie
among them, her face grim and livid in its black setting, her eyes
blazing fiercely.
The finder pointed it out. They all saw it--a huddled black heap close
in under the cliff.
Elevated by his discovery, the finder maintained his reputation by doing
the only thing that could be done. He left them talking and sped away
across the downs, across the fields, towards Creux harbour.
He might, if he had known it, have found a boat nearer at hand, Rouge
Terrier way or in Breniere Bay. But he was a Sark man, and a farmer at
that, and knew little and cared less, of the habits of Little Sark.
And the rest, falling to his idea, streamed after him, for that which
lay under the cliff could only be gotten out by boat.
So to the Creux, panting the news as he went. And there, willing hands
dragged a boat rasping down the shingle, and lusty arms, four men rowing
and one astern sculling and steering at the same time, sent her bounding
over the water as though it were life she sought, not death.
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