“I’ll try anything,” whispered Mike.
“Wouldn’t mind going into the seal hole again?”
“Vince, old chap, I’d do anything,” said Mike, seizing his fellow-prisoner’s arm and holding him tightly. “What shall we do?”
“I’m afraid it’s going to be very risky, for we don’t know anything about the rocks and currents, and we may be upset. Now do you see?”
“I see: you mean escaping in a boat,” said Mike eagerly; “but how?—what boat?”
“Don’t take much thinking to know that,” replied Vince; “the only thing that puzzles me is how they could be so stupid as to leave a boat there swinging to a painter.”
“Old Joe’s boat!” cried Mike joyously; and Vince clapped a hand over his mouth in anger, for just then they heard the voices of the captain and old Daygo as they walked forward again; and as far as the prisoners could make out, the two men were walking up one side of the deck and down the other, talking earnestly, but what was said the boys could not catch.
“Yes, old Joe’s boat,” said Vince in a subdued voice; “but if you’re going to shout we may as well go to bed and have a night’s rest.”
“I really will mind, Cinder—I will indeed,” whispered Mike. “I couldn’t help that, old chap. But tell me, how are you going to manage it?”
“There’s only one way,” replied Vince, with his lips close to his fellow-prisoner’s ear; “climb out of the window, and then over the bulwark to get down inside it where it’s dark; then creep along till we can feel the painter.”