“No; it’s worse than that.”
“Can’t be,” cried the middy.
“Yes, it is, for we could have dug the fallen stones away. Sailor, I’m obliged to say it—we’re regularly trapped!”
“What! Who by? Oh, nonsense!”
“It’s true enough, I’m afraid. The smuggler would not do as we did. We trusted him, but he would not trust us.”
“You don’t mean to say he has blocked us in?”
“I’m obliged to say so. I heard him forcing down the stones after he’d gone. Look for yourself. I can’t move one.”
“No,” said the midshipman, quietly, as he reached past Aleck and tried to give the top one a shake. “He has been too clever for us. Think we can move these lumps? No; their own weight will keep them down. That’s it, Aleck; the things here are too good to lose, and he has got us safe.”
To Aleck’s astonishment he had begun to whistle a dismal old air in a minor key after propping himself across the rough crack so that he could not slip.
“What’s to be done?” said Aleck, at last.