“Oh!” said Arthur in a disappointed tone. Then, in a whisper to Will, “I say, boy, put on a big bait this time. I want to catch a large one.”
Will felt amused at the other’s dictatorial importance, but he said nothing: placing a bait on the hook, and the line was once more trailed behind, but this time without success, and at the end of a few minutes the boat was guided into a narrow passage amongst the rocks, below a high forbidding headland where the long slimy sea-weed that clung to the granite was washing to and fro, as the waves rushed foaming in and out among the huge blocks of stone, some of which were every now and then invisible, and then seemed to rise out of the sea like the backs of huge shaggy sea-monsters playing in the nook.
Josh had taken the oar from Dick, and had now assumed the sole guidance of the boat, rowing slowly with his head turned towards the shore, and once or twice there was a scraping, bumping noise and a jerk or two, which made Arthur seize hold of the side.
“Is it safe to go in here?” said Mr Temple.
“Oh! you may trust Josh, sir,” exclaimed Will. “It wouldn’t be safe at high water, but there’s no danger now.”
“Not of getting a hole through the boat?”
“Boomp—craunch!”
Arthur turned quite white, while Dick laughed.
“That’s only her iron keel, sir,” said Will, for Josh was too intent upon his work to turn his head for answer. “The wave dropped us on that rock, and we slid off, you see, on the keel. Now we’re in deep water again.”
The action of the waves close inshore on that rugged coast, even in that calm weather, was sufficient to raise them up three or four feet and then let them down, while the water was so clear that they could see the weeds waving and streaming here and there over the tinted rock, patches of which, where they were washed bare, were of the most brilliant crimsons, purples, and greens.