“Jolly lucky we had that rope,” said the big man gravely. “Look at that beastly place now.”
The cleft was almost full of water that moved to and fro with a dull surge. The rescue had been only just in time. I think we all shuddered, looking into the green depths. Then, since shuddering was not much use, and the rock where we stood would soon be covered with water, I made a collection of handkerchiefs and bound up Jack’s wounds, after soaking them in water. The men proposed to carry him, but he scorned the idea, declaring himself perfectly well able to walk.
“I’ll paddle round to the launch and get into my bathers,” he said, standing up and shaking himself, his wet clothes clinging limply to his little body. “Come along, Ju.” He went off, limping, but erect, Judy’s arm round his shoulders. I think, of the two, I was more sorry for Judy.
Harry and I followed, to examine his other wounds—Beryl being apparently too unnerved to do anything but sit on a rock in a becoming attitude and bewail what might have been. We found that the rope had cut through his thin shirt, marking him in an angry circle: it was sore enough, but we could only be thankful that it was no worse. Jack himself asked for no consolation.
“I’m all right,” he said sturdily. “It was all my own fault, anyhow. You ought to make Miss Earle have a cup of tea, Harry; she ran all the way to the launch and back for the rope, and she must be tired.”
“That’s a good idea, young ’un,” said Harry. “Come along, Miss Earle: you sit under a tree, and I’ll boil the billy.”
The others came straggling back, and we had tea; and then, since Jack was peacefully fishing from a rock in his bathing suit, and vigorously protested against being taken home, we left him in Judy’s care and strolled back to see the Smugglers’ Cave.
As Harry had said, it was not much of a cave. It was wide and shallow, with a tiny compartment opening off it—a sub-cave, Vera called it. Both were floored with smooth dry sand. The most interesting thing about the place was the sea in front of the opening. The rocks ran far out into the water all along that part of the Island shore; but just before the cave there were none, and instead there stretched a little calm bay, almost circled by the high rocks.
“That is really what gave the place its name,” Harry said. “Some one started the yarn that smugglers used to run their boats in here: it’s a perfect natural harbour. A boat might come in and anchor under the lee of the rock, and people sailing past would be none the wiser. So a sort of story grew up round it. As a matter of fact, there were never any smugglers at all.”
Dicky Atherton told him he was an unsentimental beggar. “A pity to spoil a good yarn,” he said. “Think how tourists would lap it up!” At which Harry shuddered, and uttered pious thanks that, so far, tourists had not discovered their part of the coast.