“That’s just how I feel,” said Vince, speaking in a low, excited tone. “I didn’t say much, but I couldn’t help being horribly frightened.”
“It was enough to scare anybody there in the dark, not knowing what might happen to us next,” sighed Mike. “We can’t go back. If we do we should soon starve. Think we could go to the mouth here and wade out, and then swim to that opening we saw?”
“No,” said Vince decidedly, as he recalled the aspect of the turbulent cove from where he sat astride the stone; “no man could swim there, and I don’t believe that a small boat could live in those boiling waters.”
“Then we must go boldly out,” said Mike. “Who’s this fellow? He has no right to come here. Why, my father would punish him severely for daring to do it!”
“If he could catch him, Ladle, old fellow. But the man knows it, and that’s what frightens me—I mean, makes me fidgety about it. But we must go.”
“There is one chance, though,” said Mike eagerly: “he may have taken fright and gone with all his smuggled stuff.”
“Of course he may,” said Vince eagerly. “Why, here are we fidgeting ourselves about nothing. While we’ve been sleeping in this seal cavern, he has had his men working away to carry off all that stuff to his ship. Poor old Ladle! He won’t even get enough silk to make his mother a dress. Well, are you ready?” he continued, with forced gaiety. “I’m hungry and thirsty, and my poor feet feel like ice.”
Mike hesitated.
“We must go,” said Vince, changing his tone again. “Mike, old chap, it’s too horrid to think of them at home. Come on.”
Mike did not speak, but gave a sharp nod; and, summoning all their resolution, and trying hard to force themselves to believe that the smugglers had gone, they waded carefully on, now breathing more freely as they reached the mouth, with the bright light of morning shining full in to where they were, and sending a thrill of hope through every fibre and vein.