The rocky ledges running out beyond on either side formed a little harbour, in which, in the roughest weather, the water was fairly calm; and a further tongue of rock beyond that, rising some thirty or forty feet, and seeming to any one approaching it from without to be part of the cliffs, offered a safe riding-place for a ship of moderate draught.
As good luck would have it, the cave was empty.

The _Arrow_ must have come in after I had crossed the lough that evening.

And the French skipper and his mate had evidently left their crew to anchor and clear the vessel in the roads while they reconnoitred the house.
I could see very little of the ship through the darkness, and, indeed, was too busy making myself scarce to heed her.
Nor had I much time to spare.

For almost before I had got round the ledge and clambered partly up the cliff at the top of the cave mouth, I heard a boat putting off and voices making for the little harbour.
After that, fatigue and hunger did their work with me, and despite the peril of my position I fell asleep, and never woke till the sun was high and hot in the heavens.
Then, when I looked out, I saw as pretty a little schooner as I had ever set eyes on lying in the roads.

I used to think it hard to beat the _Cigale_ for looks, but the _Arrow_ was her superior in every way.