The current was now setting right in, as if to cross the most northern point of the island; and knowing from old experience that it was possible to get into a return current close beneath the north cliffs, they steered in, and, the breeze freshening a little, they gradually glided out of the swift race which had been bearing them along, and in a few minutes were about a hundred yards from the cliffs, in deep water, and were being carried slowly in the opposite direction—that is, back towards the place they sought to examine.
“Well, that’s right enough,” said Vince; “it’s a regular backwater, and just what we wanted. We shall do it this time.”
“Think there’s any danger?” said Mike.
“Not if it keeps like this,” replied Vince. “We’ll go on, won’t we?”
Mike nodded; and making short tacks, helped by the gentle current which was running well inside the rocks, about which they could see the tide surging, they by degrees approached the range of cliffs which they felt must be the outer boundary of the little cove.
“This is grand,” said Vince, as they drew nearer. “Why, it’s as easy as can be, and any one might have done it if they’d thought of coming here. I say, isn’t it deep? This is a regular channel, and I shouldn’t be surprised if it takes us straight to the way in, for it’s perfectly plain that it can’t be out there. No boat could get in—big or little.”
“Yes, this seems to be right,” said Mike. “See any rocks?”
“Only outside, and they keep off the tide. I say, Mike, there ought to be some good fishing here. I wonder nobody comes.”
“Look!” cried Mike; “that is the ridge of rocks we can see across the cove.”
“How do you know?”