And that chimed well with my ideas.
The sun had been up about three hours when we ran past the Dirouilles, with sharp eyes and a wide berth for outlying fragments, and edged cautiously in towards the Ecrehous.

The sea was set so thick with rocks, some above and some below water, that we dropped our sail and felt our way in with the oars, and so came slowly past the Nipple to the islet, where once a chapel stood.
It was as lonely and likely a shelter for a shipwrecked soul as could be found, at once a hiding-place and a sanctuary.

Sparse grass grew among the rocks, but no tree or shrub of any kind at that time.

The ruins of the holy place alone spoke of man and his handiwork.
All around was the free breath of life,--which, at times, indeed, might sound more akin to rushing death,--and the sea and the voice of it; and the stark rocks sticking up through it like the fragments of a broken world.
And above was the great dome of the sky--peaceful, pitiless, according to that which was within a man.
Krok scrambled ashore, and I handed him all that was left of our provisioning, then with a wave of the hand I turned and pulled clear of the traps and ran for Rozel Bay.
There was a little inn at the head of the bay, which had seen many a stranger sight than a wounded man.

I had no difficulty in securing accommodation there, and the display of my money ensured me fullest service, such as it was.