“I say,” he cried, “what tempers we have both got into! Let’s go and do something sensible to try and work it off.”
“But there’s nothing we can do,” said the middy, despondently.
“Yes, there is. As the lanthorn’s alight, let’s go and have a try at the zigzag.”
The middy followed his companion without a word, and they both climbed up wearily and hopelessly to have another desperate try to dislodge the stones, but only to prove that it was an impossible task.
Literally wearied out, they descended, after being compelled to desist by the candle gradually failing, while it had gone right out in the socket before they reached the cave.
But their utter despondency was a little checked by the sight of the soft pale light which seemed to rise from the water more clearly than ever before; and Aleck said so, but the middy was of the opposite opinion.
“No,” he said. “It only seems so after the horrible darkness of that hole.”
“I don’t know,” said Aleck; “it certainly looks brighter to me. See how clear the arch looks with the seaweed waving about! I say, sailor, I’ve a great mind to have another try.”
“No, you haven’t,” growled the middy, wearily. “I can’t spare you. I’m not going to stop here and die all alone.”
“You wouldn’t, for I should drag you out after me.”