“That’s what I thought,” said Vince. “Yes, it’s the only thing for us to do, unless we go into the seals’ cave and try and hide there.”
“Ugh!” said Mike, with a shudder. “Why, it may be horribly deep, and we should have to swim in ever so far in the darkness before we touched bottom; and who knows what a seal would do if it was driven to bay?”
“Better have to fight seals than be caught by these men, Ladle,” said Vince. “But we ought to have something to fight the seals with. There’s the big stick in the other cavern, and your knife.”
“And yours.”
“Yes; there’s mine,” said Vince thoughtfully. “Ah! of course there’s the conger club with the gaff hook at the end.”
“To be sure. But, oh no, we couldn’t do that. It would be horrible to wade or swim into that hole without a light.”
“We’d take a light,” said Vince.
“Yes, but we’d better try the other cave,” said Mike hurriedly. “I feel sure we could hide in the upper part. Draw a sail over us, perhaps: they’d never think we should hide in an open place like that, where they landed.”
“Very well, then: come on. Here’s the lanthorn and the tinder-box.”
Vince secured these from where they lay half buried in the sand; and then, rising quickly out of their irritating beds, and scattering the loose fine dry grit back, they hurried into the outer cave, seized the rope and grapnel, and Mike was swinging it to throw up into the opening, when his arm dropped to his side, and he stood as if paralysed, looking wildly at his companion.