“That’s so,” said Josh, who had overheard the remark.
“The cave we know, Master Dick,” said Will, “is one where you can row right in.”
“Can’t we go now?” cried Dick excitedly.
“Wait, wait,” said Mr Temple, “don’t be impatient, my lad. All in good time. Ah! here is the end; and look here, my man, here are some of your strange creatures’ drinking vessels.”
As he spoke he stepped forward and let the light play upon some pieces of wood, beyond which were five or six very old empty tubs that were a little less than ordinary wooden pails, but narrow at each end like a barrel.
Josh came forward with Will to stare at the half-rotten fragments, which were black and slimy with the drippings from the roof, and the iron hoops were so eaten away that upon Mr Temple touching one of the tubs with his foot it crumbled down into a heap of black-looking earth.
“Fishermen’s buoys,” said Will, looking at the heap wonderingly.
“No, my lad; smugglers’ brandy-tubs,” said Mr Temple. “And you, Josh, here’s the explanation of your cock-and-bull story. Some fishermen once saw the smugglers stealing in here by night, and at once set them down as being supernatural. There, let’s get out and climb up the rock to the old working. No. Stop; just as I thought; here is the adit.”
For they had suddenly come upon the narrow passage that led into the shaft—a low square tunnel, not so carefully-cut as the one they had previously explored.
“Is this likely to be an adit, father?” said Dick, who had caught the term. “Isn’t it the natural cave hole?”