“Josh!” cried the lad.
“Yes, my son. Well, what’s going to be done? We can’t stop down here. We shall be wanted aboard, and there ain’t a bit o’ anything to eat.”
“Do you think when we are missed that they will come and look for us?”
“Well,” said Josh slowly, “they might or they mightn’t; but if they did they wouldn’t find us.”
“I don’t know,” said Will thoughtfully.
“Well, I think I do, lad,” said Josh, after another scrub at his nose. “I don’t s’pose anybody in Peter Churchtown knows that this gashly old hole is here, and it ain’t likely they’d come up here to look for us.”
“But they would hunt for us surely, Josh.”
“Dunno. When they missed us they’d say we’d took a boat and gone out somewheres to fish, and happened on something—upset or took out to sea by the current.”
“Yes,” said Will thoughtfully.
“Seems to me, lad, as it’s something like a lobster-pot—easy enough to get in, and no way out.”