I wish we could change fathers, but I suppose we couldn't do that." We did not argue out that question, but went on talking in a low prosy tone, as we sat there with our backs supported against the cliff; and I suppose it must have been Bob's low muttering voice, mingled with the darkness, the natural hour for sleep, and the murmuring of the waves, that had so curious and lulling an effect upon me, for all at once it seemed that the water was running down from the mine shaft where it was being pumped up, the big pump giving its peculiar beats as it worked, and the splash and rush of the water sounding very soft and clear.
Then I seemed to be down in the mine, and it was very dark and cold, and I climbed up again and sat down on the ground to listen to the washing of the water, the hurrying of the stream, and the regular beat of the pump; and then I was awake again, staring out into the darkness that hung over the sea.

For a few minutes I was so confused that I could not make out where I was.

It was cold and I was shivering, and the rushing of the water and the beat of the pump was going on still.
No, it was not; for I was up there on the shelf of rock miles away from our mine, and I had been set to keep watch with Bob Chowne; and here was he, close by me, breathing heavily, fast asleep.
I felt miserable and disgraced to think that I should have been so wanting in my sense of duty as to have slept, and Bob was no better.
"Bob! Bob!" I whispered, shaking him.
"Yes," he said with a start; "I know--I wasn't asleep." "Hush! Listen!" I said.

"What's that noise ?" We both listened, and my heart throbbed as I heard a regular plash and thud from off the sea.
"Boat," said Bob decidedly.

"Shall I hail it ?" "No," I replied quickly.
"Why not?
It's a boat coming to fetch us." I could not think that it was, and creeping to where my father lay I shook him.
"Yes.