"Fresh!" he exclaimed to his companion. "We're in luck this time."
"But we've nothin' in the barrel line for tu put et in," added Jasper.
"Not even a petrol tin," added Alwyn. "Ever drunk water out of a petrol tin, Minalto?"
The Scilly Islander shook his head.
"Leave ut tu you, sir," he replied. "I've a-drunk water wi' three inches o' paraffin on top of ut on the West Coast—Accra way. That wur enough for I."
Gently jerking the rope, as a signal to Branscombe for the stock of emergency rations to be sent down, Burgoyne gave his companion instructions to bury the stuff in the cave. Leaving Minalto to carry on, the Third Officer walked down to the water's edge, then, turning abruptly to the left, followed the line of wet sand left by the receding tide.
At every possible spot where the cliff might be scalable he approached the base of the rocks, always without the desired result. Carefully obliterating his footprints on the dry sand, he continued his way until farther progress was barred by the abrupt ending of the beach at a point beyond which the cliff rose sheer from the lagoon.
The secret base was an unscalable plateau with only one approach—except by means of a rope—and that was the carefully-guarded tunnel, where more than likely (although Burgoyne was not certain on that point) the double portcullis was lowered every night.
Disappointed but by no means disheartened Burgoyne returned to the cave, where Jasper had completed his task and was awaiting him. To him Alwyn related the results of his investigations.
"Lawks!" exclaimed Minalto. "You can swim, can't you, sir? What's wrong with the reef? Can't us swim off to 'en and walk round to t' harbour? I'd do it now, on my head like, if you're in no particular hurry."