“Hold hard, my lads!” cried the midshipman, and the men ceased rowing, holding their oars balanced, with the diamond-like drops falling sparkling from their blades into the clear sea, while the boat glided slowly on towards the ledge, which was just in front.
“Why, where’s the boat?” cried Archy excitedly, as he swept the face of the cliff with his eyes.
“She aren’t here, sir,” said Dick.
“Well, I can see that, my man. Can she have slipped aside and let us pass?”
“No,” said one of the other men. “’Sides, sir, she was just afore us ten minutes ago, and we heard her lowering down her mast and sail.”
“Could that have been a gull?”
“What, make a squeal like a wheel in a block? No, sir, not it.”
“Then they have run her up on the ledge and dragged her into one of the holes. Give way!”
The men pulled in quickly, and at the end of a few minutes they were as close to the side of the ledge as it was safe to go, for, as the waves ran in, the larger ones leaped right over the broad level space, washing it from end to end. But there was no sign of the boat, and the midshipman hesitated about believing that the man and boy could have taken advantage of a good wave and run her right on.
“It’s strange,” said Archy aloud, as he sat there thinking that, if he chose his time right, he might make his men pull the boat in upon a wave, let them jump out and drag her up the rocks.