So welcome was the sight that the islanders gathered upon the shores of the bay just for the pleasure of looking at her as she lay without the harbour.

Caius looked at her, too, and with comparative indifference, for he rejoiced that he was still in prison.
Upon that day the night fell just as it falls upon all days; but at midnight Caius had a visitor.

O'Shea came to him in the darkness.
Caius was awakened from sound sleep by a muffled thumping at his door that was calculated to disturb him without carrying sharp sound into the surrounding air.

His first idea was that some drunken fellow had blundered against his wall by mistake.

As the sounds continued and the full strangeness of the event, in that lonely place, entered his waking brain, he arose with a certain trepidation akin to that which one feels at the thought of supernatural visitors, a feeling that was perhaps the result of some influence from the spirit of the man outside the door; for when he opened it, and held his candle to O'Shea's face, he saw a look there that made him know certainly that something was wrong.
O'Shea came in and shut the door behind him, and went into the inner room and sat down on the foot of the bed.