Dead Man's Rock rose out of a sea of blood, peopled with hundreds of ghastly faces, each face the distorted likeness of John or the Captain.

Blood was everywhere--on their shirts, their hands, their faces, in splashes across the rock itself, in vivid streaks across the spume of the sea.

The very sun peered through a blood-red fog, and the waves, the mournful gulls, the echoes from the cliff, took up the everlasting chorus, led by one silvery demoniac voice-- "Sing ho! but he waits for you!" Finally, as I lay tossing and tormented with this phantom horror in my eyes and ears, the sound died imperceptibly away into the soft hush of two well-known voices, and I opened my eyes to see mother with Uncle Loveday standing at my bedside.
"The boy's a bit feverish," said my uncle's voice; "he has not got over his fright just yet." "Hush! he's waking!" replied my mother; and as I opened my eyes she bent down and kissed me.

How inexpressibly sweet was that kiss after the nightmare of my dream! "Jasper dear, are you better now?
Try to lie down and get some more sleep." But I was eager to know what news Uncle Loveday had to tell, so I sat up and questioned him.

There was little enough; though, delivered with much pomp, it took some time in telling.