Josh struck a match and passed it to Mr Temple, who had just time to see that his last mark was covered, and the boat far higher up the sides of the cave before he had to drop it in the water.
“Still rising,” he said quietly. “This will be a curious adventure to talk of, boys, in the future.”
Neither Dick nor Arthur spoke, for Dick was wondering whether they would ever get out alive, and Arthur dared not trust himself to utter a word, for he was finding it terribly hard work to be brave at a time like this.
All at once Josh began to whistle an air—a doleful minor melody, that sounded so strange and weird there in the darkness that Will stopped him.
“Don’t do that, Josh,” he said softly.
“Why not? One must do something.”
“It annoys them,” whispered Will.
“Ho!” said Josh. Then he was silent, and for quite half an hour all sat listening to the gurgling, hissing, and rushing noises made by the water.
Then, when it seemed to Dick, who had tight hold of his brother’s hand, that he could bear it no longer, his father asked for another match.
Josh struck it, and it snapped in two and fell in the bottom of the boat, but burned long enough for him to light another, which was successfully handed to Mr Temple, while Will took the hitcher and forced the boat back to where the marks had been made on the wall by Mr Temple’s hammer.