At seven, coffee and bread and butter were served out: not a standing meal, but merely a "stay" before breakfast. This was followed by prayers, then all hands fell in for bathing parade.
All except Atherton and Green were somewhat surprised when Mr Trematon led the way, not to the landing-place, but up hill in the direction of the ruined hermitage.
"What's that?" exclaimed young Armstrong, as a small brown animal with a tuft of white on its tail darted into a hole on the site of the path. "Why, I believe it's a rabbit."
"Look, there are dozens of them," added Everest, pointing to a hollow about two hundred yards off. "There they go as hard as they can."
"Yes, the Island is overrun with them, and so is most of Sir Gwinnear's estate. The farmers look upon them as a pest, and destroy as many as they can."
"Why pests, sir?" asked Phillips.
"Because they eat the grass that feed the sheep, nibble the young corn shoots, undermine hedges, and so on. Of course, they are not so numerous as in Australia, where agriculture is threatened with disaster by their depreciations. One day, Phillips, you can have a chance of shooting a few for our dinner. It will be necessary for you to get a gun licence before you can carry a gun. I'll see to that, however. But steady now: here's the entrance to our bathing cove."
"What, here, sir?" asked several of the lads in chorus, and in a tone of incredulity, for the place indicated by the Scoutmaster was a circular hole surrounded by a ruinous stone wall. "Yes: follow me. Mind where you tread. It's quite safe if you take reasonable precautions."
The shaft, a natural tunnel, was descended by means of a spiral path, in places less than three feet in width, a rusty iron handrail—a relic of the good old smuggling days—serving as a none too reliable protection.
At eighty feet from the summit a steeply shelving floor was reached, whence a long, irregular tunnel led seawards. For part of this distance the place was in almost total darkness, while the air was moist and chilly.