We then proceeded to explore the inmost recesses, to reach which we had to scramble on all fours between the descending roof and the ascending floor of the cave. In one of these, that reminded me of a chapel in Westminster Abbey, was a baby seal, which, judging from its plaintive bleats, seemed to know the danger it was in. It was about a foot and a half long, of a creamy colour, with big, pleading eyes. Leaving the little creature we returned to the rocky part of the floor, and held the torches high above our heads to try to illuminate the cave. We could see the great walls of rock for perhaps twenty or thirty feet, but the light failed to scatter the gloom which ever shrouds the lofty roof. Here and there in these darker heights projections of rock were dimly visible, looking like spectral faces craned forward to peer at us. It was a weird scene that this great, resounding ocean-hall presented, and one that haunts the memory. There is little wonder that legends and superstitions cluster round these caves.
“Come,” said our guide, “there’s no time to be lost,” and in a few minutes we were again scrambling between the mast and the rock. I was glad to get a glimpse of the stars again. Out at sea, I could discern the light of some vessel going up towards the Bristol Channel. As I climbed the dusky cliff-side on the heels of our guide, and with Andrew behind me, I tried to brace my nerves for the ordeal that lay before us. The approach to the cave for which we were making is fraught with peril. Few attempt it, and of those few scarce one makes the descent a second time. This cave is the securest stronghold of the seals along the wild coast of Cornwall.
We might have made our way up some seventy feet when the guide struck a rude track on the cliff-side, and this we followed until the light of the lantern fell on the old shepherd sitting with the sack containing the rope-ladder. We had arrived at the entrance to the adit for which we were making, and along this we all proceeded in single file. It was a strange way of reaching a cave the mouth of which lay sixty feet below. We had not advanced thirty yards before we could hear the hollow roar of the waves.
“Be careful here,” said the guide, as he held his torch over a chasm. For some reason, a piece of the partition-wall between the adit and the cave has been destroyed, and with it half the narrow footway. It was a dangerous spot to pass in the lurid, unsteady light; but the shepherd made nothing of it, and as the projecting part of the sack on his back lay over the chasm when he skirted it, he was able to hug the wall on his right. Some thirty yards farther in, the tunnel pierced the wall of the cave, and again the hollow roar of the sea reached our ears. Whether the adit was driven on a vein of copper is uncertain, but there is no doubt that at one time it was used by smugglers. Kegs of brandy, lace and silk goods were probably taken to the mouth of the cave in boats, and afterwards hauled up to the tunnel and, as opportunity offered, distributed thence over the countryside amongst the smugglers’ clients, to wit, the magistrates, landlords, and tenant farmers.
Projecting from the wall of the cave, about a foot above the level of the adit, is a stout iron bar, over which our guide, by leaning forward, placed the end of the ladder so that the ropes which had been knotted together lay on each side of it, in the acute angle between the bar and the wall. The ladder was then dropped in the chasm. Clink, clink, clink—clink—clink. The seals must surely have been startled by the unusual noise made by the iron rungs striking against the rocky wall of their wild retreat. Vain warning! for some of the big boulders which cover part of the floor of the cave are dry at low water, and effectually prevent their escape. Our guide was the first to descend. I followed him into the dark abyss. The descent down the wooden ladders of a tin-mine is child’s play to going down a rope-ladder which lies against a sheer wall. Twice my feet lost grip of the slender staves, and the second time, failing to recover the rung, I had to go down hand over hand to the point where the ladder hung clear of the rock. Here it twisted and turned, adding a little variety to the difficulties of the descent. The Earthstopper, with the hammer slung across his back, followed, coming down hand over hand nearly the whole way.
“That ladder’s a rum un!” he shouted in my ear, as we stood on the rock near the foot of it.
Two lighted torches were then fixed in crannies in the walls; and after lighting three others, we moved forward, each holding one in his left hand. Beyond the slippery boulders over which we were creeping, the flare of the torches fell on the heaving surface of a deep, rocky pool.
“Look out!” shouted my friend, “they’re in.”
We drew a little nearer to the water, now lashed into foam as a seal rushed up and down. Two shots were fired as its glistening head showed above the water, but the only effect as far as I could see was to enrage the creature, and make it more aggressive than at first. For, when it reached our end of the pool again, it threw itself out of the water on to a rock, where it rested momentarily, looking more like some antediluvian creature sculptured in black marble than a living seal. Then with a hoarse roar it slid down the face of the rock and shuffled towards us in a most menacing manner.