“Ay, ay, sir.”
“Yah! Cowards!” came in angry tones.
“Ram!” exclaimed Archy, as the boy, looking hot and fierce, was dragged out by the master, to stand looking round him as fiercely as a wild cat.
“Hullo!” cried Archy. “It’s my turn now, Ram;” but he repented his words directly, as he saw the reproachful look the boy darted at him. Then he forgot all directly, as he exclaimed,—
“I see, Mr Gurr, I see! The smugglers are down here after all, and they left this boy behind to fasten the door, and cover it over with stones.”
Unable to contain himself, Ram thoroughly endorsed the midshipman’s words by giving an angry stamp upon the bottom of the hole.
“That’s it!” cried Gurr. “Here, chuck these stones into the passage, my lads;” and the rough trap-door was laid bare, the two bolts by which it was secured were seen to be unfastened, and the lock unshot.
“No way out, Mr Raystoke, is there?”
“No.”
“Then we’ve got ’em trapped safe this time,” said Gurr, as the door was thrown open. “Bad job we’ve no lanthorns; but never mind, my lads. If they won’t surrender, you must feel your way with the pyntes of your toothpicks.”