How long the silence lasted I cannot tell.

What happened next--whether I cried or fainted, looked or shut my eyes--is to me an absolute blank.

Only I remember gradually waking up to the fact that the Captain was standing over me, wiping his knife on a piece of weed he had picked up on the rock, and regarding me with a steady stare.
I now suppose that during those few moments my life hung in the balance: but at the time I was too dazed and stunned to comprehend anything.

The Captain slowly replaced his knife, hesitated, went to the ledge and peered over, and then finally came back to me.
"Are you the kind of boy that's talkative ?" His voice was as sweet as ever, but his eyes were scorching me like live coals.
I suppose I must have signified my denial, for he went on-- "You heard what he called me?
He called me a devil; a devil, mark you; and that's what I am." In my state of mind I could believe anything; so I easily believed this.
"Being a devil, naturally I can hear what little boys say, no matter where I am; and when little boys are talkative I can reach them, no matter how they hide.

I come on them in bed sometimes, and sometimes from behind when they are not looking; there's no escaping me.
You've heard of Apollyon perhaps?
Well, that's who I am." I had heard of Apollyon in Bunyan; and I had no doubt he was speaking the truth.
"I catch little boys when they are not looking, and carry them off, and then their fathers and mothers don't see any more of them.
But they die very slowly, very slowly indeed--you will find out how if ever I catch you talking." But I did not at all want to know; I was quite satisfied, and apparently he was also; for, after staring at me a little longer, he told me to get up and go down the rock in front of him.
The agonies I suffered during that descent no pen can describe.
Every moment I expected to feel my shoulder gripped from behind, or to feel the hands of some mysterious and infernal power around my neck.