Presently the tunnel began to get lighter, and the rocky floor gave place to a carpet of smooth white sand, terminating at the water's edge.
"What a ripping bathing-place, sir," exclaimed Neale.
"Come on, lads, let's see who will be the first in," shouted Coventry major, hastily slipping off his scanty garments: an example that the others followed.
"Steady, boys," said the Scoutmaster. "Not so fast. I know that you can all swim more or less: but what precautions are you taking against accidents?"
"We're all together, sir," replied Coventry senior. "If needs be there is plenty of assistance ready."
"Quite so," assented Mr Trematon. "But that is hardly sufficient. I remember the case of a party of fifty soldiers bathing together. One of them suddenly sank without a shout, and he was not missed until the men paraded to march back to barracks. So I think we will have a boat out. The two Leaders and I will man the craft, and we can have our swim afterwards."
"A boat, sir? We will have to go back to the landing-place to fetch one."
"No need to do that. Come this way."
A few feet above high-water mark a side passage branched from the main tunnel, and within it was a small rowing boat about twelve feet in length, with oars and thole pins ready for use. A life-buoy and a length of rope lay under the sternsheets.
"This is one of Peter Varco's boats," said Mr Trematon. "He always keeps it here for the use of visitors who come to the place—Dollar Cove it is called—for bathing. He told me we could make use of it."