They were now going back towards the submerged mouth of the vast cavern, and Aleck felt a strange sensation of relief even at this, for thoughts would keep crowding into his brain about what would be the consequence if a greater tide than usual flooded the place, a thought so horrible that the perspiration stood out upon his forehead, though it might have been caused by the exertion of stepping over the rugged floor and the heat of the place.
“Isn’t he very quiet?” whispered Aleck.
“Yes, but he’s watching us,” said the man, in a hoarse whisper, while Aleck looked in vain for a likely place to be the young officer’s prison, “over yonder” being a very vague indication.
Just then the smuggler began to step up a steep slope of moderate-sized rocks piled one upon the other, to stop short about ten feet above where his companion was standing.
He held the lanthorn down low for the lad to see, and as Aleck stood beside him he raised the light as high as he could, so that the dim rays fell upon the angry staring eyes of the young officer, who lay upon a thick cushion composed of many folds of sail-cloth, the bolt ropes and reef points in which showed plainly that it had been in use possibly in connection with some unfortunate vessel wrecked upon the rocks of the iron-bound coast.
The face was familiar enough to Aleck as the midshipman hitched himself up a little higher upon the elbow which supported him, and his new visitor saw that the fierce eyes were not directed at him, but at the smuggler who bore the lanthorn.
“Then you’ve come at last?” he said, fiercely. “Now, then, no more of this tomfool acting; unlock this iron and take me out into the fresh air, or as sure as you stand there, you great, black-muzzled, piratical-looking scoundrel, I’ll say such things about you to the captain that he’ll hang you to the yard-arm, and serve you right.”
“What!” growled the smuggler. “Not got tame yet?”
“Tame, you miserable ruffian! How dare you speak to an officer in His Majesty’s Navy like that? There never was such an outrage before. Unfasten these irons, I say, and take me out!”
“Why, skipper,” said the smuggler, mockingly, “your temper gets worse and worse.”