CHAPTER III. LAND AND SEA IN SANDAG BAY.

I was early afoot next morning; and as soon as I had a bite to eat, set

forth upon a tour of exploration. Something in my heart distinctly told

me that I should find the ship of the Armada; and although I did not give

way entirely to such hopeful thoughts, I was still very light in spirits

and walked upon air. Aros is a very rough islet, its surface strewn with

great rocks and shaggy with fernland heather; and my way lay almost north

and south across the highest knoll; and though the whole distance was

inside of two miles it took more time and exertion than four upon a level

road. Upon the summit, I paused. Although not very high--not three

hundred feet, as I think--it yet outtops all the neighbouring lowlands of

the Ross, and commands a great view of sea and islands. The sun, which

had been up some time, was already hot upon my neck; the air was listless

and thundery, although purely clear; away over the north-west, where the

isles lie thickliest congregated, some half-a-dozen small and ragged

clouds hung together in a covey; and the head of Ben Kyaw wore, not

merely a few streamers, but a solid hood of vapour. There was a threat

in the weather. The sea, it is true, was smooth like glass: even the

Roost was but a seam on that wide mirror, and the Merry Men no more than

caps of foam; but to my eye and ear, so long familiar with these places,

the sea also seemed to lie uneasily; a sound of it, like a long sigh,

mounted to me where I stood; and, quiet as it was, the Roost itself

appeared to be revolving mischief. For I ought to say that all we

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