Now his time's come, and something'll eat him.

Hyste the sail." The dog-fish--a very large one of its kind--was thrown overboard, the sail hoisted, and the boat began to glide onward toward the semicircular bay into which they were drifting, with the huge, massive promontory straight ahead.

Then the oar was pressed down, and the boat began to curve round.
"Hi! stop! Don't go back yet!" cried Vince.
"Eh?
Why not?
No more lobster-pots down." "I want to sail across the bay, and get round by the Scraw." "What!" cried the old man, looking at him fiercely.

"You want to go there?
Well!" He turned his eyes upon Mike, who encountered the fierce gaze, and said, coolly enough: "Well, all right; I want to go too.

I've only seen the place at a distance." "Ay, and that's all you will ever see on it, 'less you get wings like one o' they shags," said the old man, pointing solemnly at a great black bird sunning itself upon an outlying rock.