“Yes,” said Vince drily; “the air is coming fast, and the light can’t be very long. There—it’s all right, Ladle; we shan’t hurt now. But I don’t know how we’re going to manage when the tide falls, for we shan’t dare to go out.”
“No,” said Mike, whose spirits sank again at these words, “we shan’t dare to go out. Do you know, I wish, as you did, that we had stopped on board.”
“And not taken all this trouble for nothing. How long should you say it would be before the light comes again?”
“Hours,” said Mike; “but I don’t mind it so much now that we can breathe better.”
“No; it is better,” said Vince drily. “I say, I wonder what they are doing at home?”
Vince wished the next moment that he had not said those words, for they had the effect of sinking his companion into a terrible state of depression, while, in spite of his efforts, he was himself nearly as bad.
But then it was before breakfast, and they had hardly touched a mouthful since the morning before.
At last, after what seemed to be a full day in length of time, there was afar off a faint soft gleam of light on the surface of the water—a ray which sent a flood into the hearts of the watchers—and from that moment the light began to grow broader and higher, while they suddenly woke to the fact that the boat was moving gently towards the entrance of the cavern, drawn by the falling tide.
After a while there was a tiny archway; then this began to increase as the water sank and rose, but always rose less and less, leaving the sea anemones and the various shell-fish dotted with drops which gathered together, glittering and trembling in the light, and then fell with a musical drip upon the smooth surface.
The little arch increased rapidly after a time, and still the boat drew nearer to the entrance, neither of the boys having the heart to check its progress after their long imprisonment, for the outer world never looked so bright and glorious before.