image: Seal_Island7.jpg
image: Seal_Island7.jpg
[Illustration: "'In the name of thunder, what have you Scouts been up to?'"—Page189.]
[Illustration: "'In the name of thunder, what have you Scouts been up to?'"—Page189.]
"Very good," assented Sir Silas. "Only I hope you won't overtire yourselves. Polglaze, I wish you to remain here till Atherton returns. As a temporary measure I mean to have the tunnel sealed up at both ends before to-night. Later on, when we have laid my rascally butler by the heels, the place can be thoroughly explored by competent antiquarians. I have no doubt but that it will prove of considerable interest to persons making a study of mediaeval architecture."
Atherton gave the half-salute and retired with his fellow Scouts. Once clear of the House, they broke into a Scout's pace, and soon covered the distance between them and Polkerwyck village.
Outside the post-office they were stopped by Farmer Trebarwith, who was bubbling over with excitement.
"Heard the news, young gentlemen? They du say that Tassh has been seen in Bodmin, and that he has taken the train to Lunnon with a girt box—full o' stolen silver I du say. We'm expecting news that he's been apprehended as soon as he gets to his journey's end."
Atherton thanked the farmer for his information, and, excusing himself, hastened his patrol into one of Peter Varco's boats, that the old fisherman obligingly lent them.
"I was beginning to wonder what had happened to you," said Mr Buckley. "In fact, I was on the point of taking two of the 'Wolves' with me and following up your trail. They say that Tassh has been traced to London, eh? Well, I hope it's true, for we shall be able to carry out our camp routine, which from all accounts has been subjected to interruptions of various sorts from the first day you arrived. All right, Atherton, you can go through the tunnel again. Three of you will be enough, I think. Get back as soon as you can."
The second trip through the subterranean passage was performed with alacrity, and without incident Atherton and his companions succeeded in reaching the far end.
"Give a push with the end of your staff, Green," he said, pointing to a well-defined mark on the stonework where the mechanism had previously been actuated.
Green pushed his pole, at first gently, then harder. It was all to no purpose. The sliding stone seemed as immovable as it had done on the other side.
"That's strange," commented the Leader. "Bring the other lantern here and let's see if we can find anything."
For a quarter of an hour or more Atherton prodded the stone and groped for a concealed spring.
"We're done again, I'm afraid," he remarked. "We must retrace our steps. Blow one of the candles out, Mayne. We've none too much left. I didn't reckon on this."
"It won't do to be stranded in this hole without a light," agreed Mayne. "What about the lanterns we left behind us?"
Atherton picked up the two candle-lamps. In one there was less than a quarter of an inch. In the other there was hardly as much, and what made matters worse, the Scouts who took spare candles had not handed them over to their comrades when the latter set out on their second journey through the tunnel.
"Back as fast as we can," ordered Atherton. "Don't wait to bring that bowl with us. It will be quite safe here."
Lighted by the glimmer of the solitary candle, the Scouts hastened on their homeward way.
Presently Green called out:
"I say, Atherton. What's that noise?"
A dull swishing sound came faintly to the ears of the listeners.
"It's like a tap running," remarked Mayne. "Water running into a bath, for example."
"Foot it as fast as you can," exclaimed Atherton. "It may be all right, but I fancy the water is pouring into the hollow we noticed just this side of the place we found the silver bowl."
The three lads broke into a run, guided by the flickering light of the lantern. Louder and louder grew the sound of the inrush of water.
"Steady," gasped Atherton, as his feet came in contact with the water. "Wade through it."
He was hoping against hope. His practical eye had already noted that the water extended far beyond the limits of the little puddle they had encountered in the lowest level of the dip. This meant that there might be five feet or more of water in the tunnel, or there might be sufficient space between the surface and the top of the vaulting to enable the lads to proceed.
"What's happened, I wonder?" asked Green, who, like the other, was knee-deep in water.
"Don't worry: keep on," enjoined the Leader. "There's no current, luckily, but let's hang on to one another in case there's a pitfall. Keep the spare pieces of candle dry, Mayne, whatever you do. I've put the matches in my hat."
Waist deep now. The rate of progress was visibly retarded by the resistance of the water. Peering ahead, Atherton could see that at less than twenty yards from where he stood the roof of the tunnel met and dipped below the surface of the newly formed lake.
The Scouts were trapped.
"No go, lads," announced Atherton, in a cheerful tone. "We must get back to the higher level. It must be raining pretty heavily, and the water soaks through."
"A jolly good soak, I should say," added Green. "What do you propose doing now, Atherton?"
"Exercise patience, and have another shot at that revolving stone. It's merely a question of time and an element of luck. Besides, when the water begins to subside it will do so pretty rapidly, I expect."
"Why?" asked Green.
"I don't know why, unless the floor of the tunnel is very porous. Don't you remember that within twenty hours of the time that Tassh was unable to leave Seal Island he was back again by means of this passage?"
"That's so," agreed Green, stooping to wring the moisture out of his shorts. "How's the candle going, Atherton?"
"It will last us a bit," replied the Leader; but he knew that in less than an hour at the outside their whole supply of candle ends would be consumed.
"Let's shout altogether," suggested Mayne, after they had returned to the top of the spiral staircase and had made another unsuccessful attempt to discover the secret of the mechanism of the revolving stone.
The Scouts gave a united yell. The echoes rang in their ears, but no answering sound came from the other side of the baffling granite wall.
"Look here, you fellows," said Atherton, "it's no use our waiting here on the off chance of some one opening the door or whatever you call it, from the inside. One of us ought to stand by and watch for the water to subside. Who's game?"
"It will mean that one of us will have to be in the dark," observed Mayne gloomily. "I'm not frightened of the dark, of course, but it's pretty miserable sticking about by yourself in a pitch-black hole."
"That's so," agreed Green. "I vote we all keep together."
"That won't do for me, lads," said Atherton. "I'll go. You keep what's left of the candle. When I find the level is sinking I'll shout and let you know. This tunnel is like a giant voice-tube: you'll hear me plainly enough."
"Oh, I'll go if you want," said Mayne, somewhat shamefacedly.
"Or I will," added Green.
"You'll jolly well stop here. Take half of these matches. Keep on trying, and perhaps you'll find the secret of the opening after all."
So saying, Atherton felt his way down the steps, and began his solitary progress along the tunnel. On and on he went, feeling the rough wall with his hand and methodically counting the number of paces he took.
At the five hundred and twentieth step his foot splashed into the water. The Scout halted, struck a match and examined the rock close to the surface of the pool. It was fairly dry.
"That means the water is still rising," thought the Leader. "I'll draw a line in the dust, and look again in five minutes' time, just to make sure."
Taking a piece of twine from his pocket, Atherton measured off as near as he could guess a length slightly exceeding a yard. To one end he attached his knife. Holding the other end in his hand, the Scout allowed the weighted string to swing.
"A pendulum thirty-nine inches in length swings one every second," he said to himself. "This ought to be near enough for my purpose."
He waited till the knife had swung three hundred times—it seemed more like an hour than five minutes,—then, striking another match, he examined the mark he had made on the ground. It was already on the point of being covered. The water was still rising.
"Cheerful," he remarked. "After all, there is no danger, it's only the discomfort, and all true Scouts make light of trivial matters like this. It's another all-night business: that's my opinion."
"Atherton!" shouted Green, his voice rumbling down the tube-like passage.
"Hulloa?"
"Our light's gone out. Is the water falling?"
Atherton struck a match.
"I'm sorry to say it isn't," he shouted in reply.
"Then it's no use waiting there. Come back to us. It's mighty cold and we're precious hungry."
"I can't feed you, Green, and if you're cold jump about a bit and flap your arms. I'll be with you soon."
After giving this advice, Atherton began to walk along the now familiar tunnel. Ere he had covered a hundred paces he was surprised by the sound of a sharp detonation, followed by shouts of alarm on the part of his two comrades.
"What's up?" hailed Atherton.
The shouting still continued, but the anxious Scout could make neither head nor tail of what was being said. Presently a strong current of air, followed by the pungent fumes of powder, drifted down the tunnel.
Gasping, Atherton tied his scarf over his mouth, and dashed as hard as he could through the inky darkness, keeping his left hand on the wall to guide him. Stumbling over the silver bowl at the foot of the stairs was the first intimation he received of the fact that he had reached the end of the passage.
Then, as he mounted the spiral stairs, to his utter relief he heard Mr Buckley's voice calling him by name.
Removing his scarf, Atherton gave a reassuring answer.
"Thank heaven, you're safe!" replied the Scoutmaster, as Atherton emerged through an irregularly shaped hole that took the place of the narrow opening into the butler's room.
"And Mayne and Green?"
"They're all right, only a bit shaken up."
In the room, in addition to Mr Buckley, were Sir Silas Gwinnear, Polglaze the detective, and a gentleman whom Atherton had not seen before, and who was a mining engineer for one of the neighbouring "wheals" or mines, and three workmen.
"We knew something was amiss," explained the Scoutmaster. "Soon after you descended the tunnel for the second time it came on to pour with rain. Phillips suggested to me the danger of one portion of the passage being filled with water, and he and I going down found this to be the case, and that your retreat was cut off, unless you succeeded in turning the revolving stone.
"Thinking that there was a chance of your not being able to do so, Phillips and I made our way across the mainland, and on to Polkerwyck House.
"We found the secret opening still remained fast closed. We hammered at it, tried crowbars, and did everything to attract your attention. Green tells me you never heard a sound."
"We made as much row as we could, sir," said Atherton. "The walls must be practically soundproof."
"I should say they are not soundproof now," continued Mr Buckley. "On Sir Silas's advice we sent to Polkarnis Mine for some men accustomed to the use of explosives, and this gentleman—Mr Copperas, the electrical works' manager—kindly came over to give his technical assistance."
"Yes, it's a wonder we didn't do more harm," added Mr Copperas. "Since we heard no sounds from within we naturally concluded that the three of you were farther along the tunnel. However, all's well that ends well, and your two chums have been through an experience I never wish to meet with: standing within a few feet of five pounds of gun-cotton when it exploded."
"Now, Atherton, we must be making a move," declared the Scoutmaster. "It will soon be dark, and you've had a couple of very trying days."
"How about the silver bowl, sir?" said the Scout, who had already noticed the signs of preparations of bricking up the gap. "I'll get it if you like."
"Don't worry about that, Atherton," interposed Sir Silas. "Get a good night's rest. You can have a bed here if you wish."
"No, thank you, sir," replied Atherton. "I think I shall sleep pretty soundly in camp."
"As you like," said the baronet. "I'll see that the bowl is brought out. Mr Copperas and I have a wish to have a look at this remarkable tunnel before it is actually sealed."
"Any further news of Tassh, sir?" asked Atherton, as, accompanied by the five "Otters," the Scoutmaster started at a brisk walk towards Polkerwyck.
"Nothing, save that the police hope to effect his arrest in London. As far as we are concerned I think the Scouts have finished with the business. It will give us a chance to settle down to a less strenuous holiday."
Untilover the following Sunday the Scouts of Seal Island "stood easy." The usual routine was maintained, but operations necessitating arduous work were temporarily dispensed with. The lads were all more or less done up. Want of sleep, exposure to the rain, and a surfeit of excitement tried them to a very great extent; but, thanks to their physical training, they were soon little the worse for the experiences they had undergone.
Even Coventry minor's case showed good signs of improvement. He was still unable to leave the doctor's house, but there was every chance of his being fit to take part in the camp before the end of a fortnight.
Early on Tuesday morning, the two patrols started on a boating excursion. The "Otters," with the Scoutmaster, took Varco's largest boat, while the "Wolves" embarked in a craft only slightly smaller. Both boats were provided with masts and sails, the area of the latter being comparatively small, so that there was little chance of a catastrophe occurring. Mr Buckley was a skilled and keen boat-sailer, while Simpson and Fraser of the "Wolves" knew enough about the management of a small craft under sail to be entrusted with the care of the one in which their patrol embarked.
After the gale, which had finished with the torrential rain that had caused the flooding of the subterranean passage, the weather set in fair, with a very high temperature. The Scouts unanimously voted that it was simply ripping weather for camping, and the discomforts of the gale were now almost forgotten.
It was the intention of the Scouts to circumnavigate Seal Island. A better day could not have been chosen. There was hardly any wind: what there was was off shore, while—a somewhat unusual circumstance—the ground-swell was absent.
Past the now familiar Dollar Cove the lads rowed, pausing every now and then to admire the fantastic outlines of the rugged cliffs.
"Mackerel in the bay," announced Mr Buckley, pointing to a shimmering light on the surface of the water, about half way across to Beware Head.
"I wish we had some rag worm for bait," said Jim Sayers. "There are two lines in the boat, but without bait they might just as well not be there."
"Don't say that," rejoined the Scoutmaster, laughing. "Let me have a look at the lines. Ah! they're properly hooked. Sayers, I see an old tin can under the bow thwart. Give it a rub on the leather of your oar and pass it to me."
The Tenderfoot did as Mr Buckley suggested. With a pair of pocket scissors the Scoutmaster cut three spoon-shaped pieces from the now glittering tin, curved them with his fingers and attached the metal to the line just in front of the three-barbed hooks.
"Well I never!" ejaculated Sayers. "To think that fish make a meal out of a chunk of tin."
The lines were paid out, the metal discs jumping erratically under the resistance of the water.
Three minutes later, Sayers felt a sharp tug on his line.
"A fish!" he exclaimed excitedly.
"Haul it slowly and carefully or you'll lose it," cautioned Mr Buckley. "Yes, Sayers, you've hooked a beauty."
Wildly struggling, a fair-sized mackerel was landed into the boat, its gills impaled by two barbed hooks. After that the sport was fast and furious, and before the boats were abreast of Beware Head eleven fish were lying on the bottom boards of the "Otters'" boat, and nine fell to the lot of the "Wolves."
"There's a cutter close inshore," observed Phillips, as the boats rounded North Head.
"She's too close in for safety," added Mayne. "She can't be very far from the reef where the tramp steamer struck."
"She's anchored," declared Atherton. "I can see the cable. She's a good distance this side of the reef, nearly opposite the Tea Caves, I should imagine."
"We'll pull close to her and see if anything's wrong. Perhaps they've missed the tide, and have anchored close inshore till slack water," said Mr Buckley. "Give way 'Wolves'; we'll race you."
The "Wolves" did give way with a will, and being in a lighter and fairly narrow-beamed boat they outstripped their friendly rivals.
"That will do," ordered the Scoutmaster. "Take it easy now."
The cutter was a yacht of about ten tons. Since she had no name on her counter, Mr Buckley came to the conclusion that she belonged to a recognised yacht club in spite of the fact that she flew no burgee.
She was moored with two anchors and cables—an unnecessary business unless she was to stay over one tide. A dinghy was made fast astern, and this was the only intimation the Scouts had that there was some one on board the yacht, for her deck was deserted.
"Yacht ahoy!" hailed the Scoutmaster.
Two disreputable-looking men clad in blue jerseys and dirty canvas trousers emerged hurriedly from the cabin.
"Wot d'ye want, Capting?" asked the taller of the two, with an insolent ring in his voice.
"We thought you were brought up too close inshore," said the Scoutmaster. "Perhaps you're strangers to this part of the coast?"
"I'll chaunce me arm over that, old mate," was the reply. "We're bloomin' well all right, cocky. When the tide serves we'll sweep the blinkin' boat rahnd to Padstow if there's no bloomin' wind."
"Give way, lads," ordered the Scoutmaster.
Not a word more was spoken till both boats had put an intervening headland between them and the cutter and her surly crew.
"They're a churlish set," remarked Mr Buckley. "I wonder what their little game is, bringing up so close to the Tea Caves?"
"Do you know, sir, I believe—although I am not quite sure—that the shorter man is one of the fellows who threw Sir Silas over Hungerford Bridge."
"Eh?" exclaimed Mr Buckley, incredulously. "I think so, sir. And another thing I noticed: those fellows said they would sweep the yacht to Padstow if there were no wind."
"That's so," agreed the Scoutmaster.
"Then why would they want to row her when there's a motor on board, sir?"
"A motor—how do you know, Atherton?"
"I noticed the propeller under the water, sir."
"You did? I missed that, then. I was directing my attention to the stern to see if a name had been painted out. It is quite possible, since the yacht is a fairly decent one, that those two fellows have stolen it. Such acts are not uncommon. That also might be an explanation for their statement that they intended to use their sweeps. They might be ignorant of how to run a motor."
"Looks fishy, sir," remarked Phillips. "Do you think, since they are close to the mouth of the Tea Caves, that they have anything to do with Paul Tassh?"
"The possibility is somewhat remote. Tassh is, according to all accounts, hiding in London."
"With the bulk of the booty, sir?"
"Well, since you suggest it, there might be something in the wind between those two surly fellows and Paul Tassh," admitted Mr Buckley. "I thought we had finished with the business. However, I'll call for volunteers to patrol the cliffs above the Tea Caves tonight if the yacht hasn't cleared off in the meantime."
With that the voyage was resumed. At the blowing holes the Scouts landed, in order to investigate this natural curiosity; but, owing to an absence of wind and no sea running, the "performance was off," as Neale expressed it.
The lads thoroughly enjoyed a scamper over the remarkably shaped rocks, which were only accessible from the sea; and here a substantial lunch was partaken.
"I wonder what would happen if we stopped up the blowing hole?" asked Reggie Scott of his churn Sayers, pointing to an orifice in the rock about three inches in diameter, which was worn perfectly smooth by the violent up-burst of water.
"I reckon it would go off like a pop-gun the first time the waves broke under it," replied Sayers. "But what's the use? We shan't be here to see what happens."
"I'll fill it up, just for fun," said Scott. "Let's see how deep it is first."
Lying at full length on the flat-topped rock, the Tenderfoot bared his arm and thrust it down.
"I can't reach anything like far enough, Sayers," he began. "It will take a lot of filling up——"
His remarks were rudely interrupted by a sudden rush of compressed air. Before Scott could throw himself clear of the blow-hole he was drenched to the skin by a torrent of water forced through the circular hole in the rock.
Sayers yelled with delight, but his mirth was brought to an abrupt termination by a regular waterspout from another blow-hole close to where he was standing. Slipping on the weed-covered rock, he subsided on his back, and while in this ignominious position he was completely enveloped in the falling spray.
At the first sign of the spout Atherton, Simpson, Phillips, and Coventry made a hurried dash for the boats. They were only just in time to prevent them from being dashed broadside on to the beach as three rollers in quick succession hurled themselves up the rocks.
"It must have been the swell of a steamer," declared Simpson, after the sea had resumed its placid condition.
"Steamer? I saw none within a mile or so of shore," remarked Phillips, "and the last one quite a quarter of an hour ago."
"That, no doubt, was the one that caused the three rollers," remarked Mr Buckley, who had overheard the Scouts. "The swell of a large steamer, travelling at a fair speed, will be felt five miles off, and at a considerable time after the ship has passed abreast of that part of the shore on which the waves break. But come along, lads, we've seen the blowing holes at work, and some of you have wet shirts in consequence."
Into their boats the Scouts jumped, and once more the coasting trip was resumed. Without further incident the lads landed at the cove, hauled the boats up the slope, and returned to camp for dinner.
Themore Atherton thought about one of the crew of the mysterious yacht the more he became convinced that the fellow was Sir Silas Gwinnear's assailant.
After dinner, seizing a favourable opportunity, the lad approached his Scoutmaster on the subject.
"You're falling a victim to the powers of suggestion, I'm afraid, Atherton," remarked Mr Buckley. "When you first mentioned the matter to me you said youthoughthe was the man. Now, after ruminating, you come to the conclusion that hemustbe the culprit. Such definite conclusions based upon flimsy suppositions are dangerous. Over and over again one reads of cases of persons being wrongly arrested owing to definite yet mistaken zeal on the part of an impressionable constable. Now, for example, what do you suggest would be the best course to adopt? Inform the police?"
"Yes, sir; my idea is that he should not be allowed to slip through our fingers, so to speak."
"And if the fellow gives a perfectly corroborated statement, and claims damages for illegal arrest, where would the funds of the troop go, eh? No, no, Atherton, we must get to work more cautiously. I am quite in agreement with you that the action of these two men on the yacht is suspicious, and that they ought to be kept under observation. All the same, I do not like the idea of so much night work. Before I took over for Mr Trematon, you had more than one restless night."
"If it has to be done, sir, it must be," replied Atherton earnestly. "The other fellows are of the same mind."
"Very well, so long as the yacht remains of the Island we will keep her under observation. I'll send Simpson and the 'Wolves' out till sunset, and then the 'Otters' can carry on till morning. Only, mind you, it is to be distinctly understood that your patrol must rest this afternoon and also to-morrow morning. Seven hours' sleep in every twenty-four is essential."
"Very good, sir," said Atherton.
"And," continued Mr Buckley, "I mean to take the night watch with you. We must find a likely spot whence we can command the approach to the Tea Caves as well as the yacht. Now tell the 'Otters' to turn in. No talking, mind. I'll see that Simpson has his instructions, and then I'll have a nap myself."
Two hundred yards to the south-west of the Tea Caves a rocky headland afforded all the shelter the Scouts required. The place seemed as if it had been a Titan's playground, for huge flat boulders, some weighing more than twenty tons, had been piled up in picturesque and even grotesque formations. On one group of rocks the Scouts had bestowed the name of "The Mushrooms," and the designation was not inapplicable. Three separate columns, composed of discshaped rocks twelve feet in diameter, rose to the height of twelve feet above the general ground level. On the summit of these were still broader rocks with slightly rounded upper surfaces, their edges overlapping the bases by three to five feet, and two of the top rocks touched each other; the third was separated from the other by a space of less than a foot.
On the lee—side of "The Mushrooms" there was sufficient shelter for the four Scouts of the "Wolves," for Hayes and Tenderfoot Basil Armstrong were left behind in camp while the "Otters" were resting in their tent.
The yacht still remained close inshore, in the same position as when the Scouts had first sighted her. The tide had long since changed, but the crew had made no attempt to shift her, either by means of the motor or sweeps.
Throughout the rest of the afternoon the "Wolves" kept on the watch. The shadows lengthened as the sun sank down in the west; but the two men on board gave no signs of their presence.
"Anything wrong?" asked Atherton, as the "Otters" came to the relief of their comrades, Sayers and Scott being left in camp to perform a like duty to the one Hayes and Armstrong had been detailed to do.
"Not a sign," replied Simpson. "Just our luck. I suppose they'll do something as soon as it gets dark, and we'll be out of it."
"May not," rejoined Atherton. "Anyway, if anything exciting does occur we'll rouse you up right enough."
With that the "Wolves" reluctantly betook themselves off, and the "Otters" carried on the task of watching the mysterious yacht. The Scouts knew their work well. Even in the gathering twilight they refrained from showing themselves against the skyline. Each lad, with a cluster of gorse in his hat to still lessen the risk of detection, kept well behind cover.
Night fell. There was no moon, but the stars gave sufficient light to distinguish the outlines of the coast and the grimly silent yacht, that, two hundred feet below, rocked gently on the bosom of the ocean.
"It's eleven o'clock and slack tide," said Phillips to his Leader. "What do you say to this: suppose we get the others to lower us down the cliffs by the Tea Caves? It's hardly any distance."
"What then?" asked Atherton.
"Well, there being no tide, we could easily swim off to that yacht. It would be worth doing to find out what those fellows are doing on board."
"I'm game," agreed Atherton. "But we'll have to mention it to Mr Buckley."
"Do you think he'll let us go?" asked Phillips, anxiously.
"If he won't there's an end to it," rejoined Atherton, sturdily. "So here goes, I'll ask."
"A hundred yards from the shore at least," observed the Scoutmaster, when Atherton made the proposal. "Are you quite sure you can do the distance there and back?"
"Both Phillips and I hold half-mile certificates, sir," said the Leader. "If the other fellows will lower us on to the ledge leading to the Caves, it will be a fairly simple matter to swarm down the rope to the base of the cliff."
"Very well, then," assented the Scoutmaster. "But, whatever you do, exercise the greatest caution. Everest and Baker can remain here, the rest of the available 'Otters' can support you."
"Thank you, sir," replied Atherton, saluting, and without further delay the work of preparation began.
Green and Mayne were to remain on the top of the cliff above the ledge leading to the Tea Caves, the Scoutmaster was to descend to the ledge, make sure that there was no one lurking at the entrance to the caverns, and to assist the two swimmers during their descent and ascent to and from the sea.
Noiselessly the little party gained the spot, almost opposite the anchored yacht. No signs of life were visible from the unlighted craft. Her outlines could only just be discerned against the dark surface of the water.
It did not take the Scouts long to discover the holes into which the staves and crowbars had been driven on the first occasion of their first exploration of the Tea Caves. The tufts of earth that had been placed in them to hide the traces of the Scouts' operations were removed and two stout iron bars deftly inserted.
Giving a final glance round, Mr Buckley made one end of the rope fast round his body. "Lower away, lads," he exclaimed. "I'm not a heavy weight, and when one has a groggy arm it puts a stopper on hand-over-hand work."
As soon as Mr Buckley reached the ledge, Atherton and Phillips swarmed down. They were now only twenty feet above the sea, and at that particular spot the irregular shape of the cliffs permitted a fairly easy descent.
"We'll go with you, sir, as far as the Caves," whispered the Leader, but the Scoutmaster demurred.
"One can go where three cannot sometimes," he replied. "If there's any bother I'll whistle for you. I think I can well hold my own till then."
In five minutes Mr Buckley returned.
"It's all clear, I think," he remarked in an undertone. "The dust seems undisturbed and there's been no wind to level it. I've covered my tracks very carefully in case of accidents."
Quickly undressing, Atherton, with a rope tied round his waist, in case he slipped, made his way down to the water's edge. Casting off the rope, he waited till Phillips joined him, and as noiselessly as the little creatures from which the patrol took its name, the two Scouts slipped into the water.
Not a word was spoken as the lads swam with steady strokes towards the yacht The sea was quite warm, warmer in fact than the air. Both Scouts knew how to swim with the least exertion and without making a splash. They did not hurry, realising that haste in swimming means loss of strength; so, keeping side by side, they made light work of their outward journey.
The mysterious yacht was now riding lightly to her anchor. There was little or no tide; and her cable was, in nautical parlance, "straight up and down." By a fortunate chance, owing no doubt to the slovenliness of her crew rather than to their lack of seamanship, the yacht's bobstay was still hove taut, and this afforded a fine foothold for the two lads.
Atherton could just manage to grasp the bowsprit. Raising his legs, he threw his heels over the low bulwark and contrived to draw himself on deck. He waited, every sense keenly on the alert. All was quiet, save for a muffled conversation in the cabin.
Assisting Phillips on board, the elder lad led the way aft. Their bare feet made no sound upon the dew-sodden decks; and, cautiously picking their way over coils of ropes and avoiding formidable-looking cleats that would, in the event of hitting them, cause painful results, the two Scouts came to the closed companion hatch communicating to the main cabin.
Through a chink in the teak door, Atherton saw that a light was burning. The scuttles had been covered with a thick material in order to screen the light within.
It was a remarkable sight that met the Scout's gaze. On the swinging table was a quantity of silver plate. Sitting on one bunk was one of the crew, who was apprehensively regarding his companion. Of the latter Atherton now had no doubts. He was the same red-necked fellow who had been one of the assailants of Sir Silas Gwinnear. There was no mistaking the closely cropped iron-grey hair, the rounded though massive shoulders and back, the long legs and all the other characteristics the Scout had so carefully noticed. In his hands he held a sporting rifle, which was pointed in the direction of his companion.
"Ere, chuck it, Bill. Turn that blessed thing away," remonstrated the seated man.
"'Tain't loaded, yer blinkin' juggins."
"That's wot yer says, Bill."
"'Struth: don't yer know as well as I does that there ain't a blinkin' cartridge aboard. All the same it'll come in 'andy-like to frighten them nippers if they comes a' nosin' abaht 'ere agen."
"They won't. I'll chaunce me arm on that, Bill."
"'Ow d'ye know that? Ain't they properly kippered that old fool Tassh, till 'e ain't got no mind to call 'is own? If it weren't for them blessed Scouts we'd a' hid all the blessed swag aboard afore now. Tassh won't budge till nigh on one in the mornin', as yer bloomin' well knows, the white-livered swob."
"'E was late last night. Arter three afore 'e gived the signal."
"Ef 'e's blinkin' well late to-night we'll go ashore and rout 'im out of 'is blessed cave."
"Not this 'ere child, Bill. I ain't got no likin' to wormin' me way through that 'ole between the two caves. I'll wait in the outer one if yer likes."
"You'll blessed well do as I tells yer," retorted the latter man, laying the gun down on the bunk. "Onderstand that. Well, 'ere goes. I'll 'ave a look on deck, and see if anything's stirrin'. Douse that glim for a minnit, while I opens the 'atch."
Atherton touched his companion's shoulder. Both lads rose to their feet and began to make their way for'ard, Phillips treading on one side of the deck and Atherton on the other, so as to prevent the craft from heeling. Even the faintest heel would be noticeable to the two men below, and their suspicions would be instantly aroused.
Phillips lowered himself noiselessly over the bows, but before Atherton could clamber over the windlass that occupied a portion of the foredeck, the noise of the hatch being slid back told him that Bill was in the act of coming on deck.
There was no time to be lost. Atherton hurried to rejoin his comrade, but his haste led to his undoing. His bare feet slipped on the wet planks, and the next instant he was sprawling at full length upon the deck.
image: Seal_Island8.jpg
image: Seal_Island8.jpg
[Illustration: "Throughout the rest of the afternoon the Wolves kept on the watch."—Page217.]
[Illustration: "Throughout the rest of the afternoon the Wolves kept on the watch."—Page217.]
Atherton'sfirst impulse was to regain his feet and jump overboard. By so doing he knew that he would run no personal risks, since Bill and his companion in crime could not possibly capture him, even if they went to the length of leaping into the sea dressed as they were, in their clothes and sea-boots. But, on the other hand, the Scout realised that, if discovered, the confederates of the rascally butler would make haste and clear off in the yacht, and the whole chance of capturing both the rogues and their booty would receive a serious set back.
With these thoughts flashing through his mind, Atherton pulled several folds of the staysail over his recumbent form, as, fortunately for him, the slothful crew had lowered the sail and had neglected to stow or even secure it. His chief anxiety was that Phillips, finding that his companion had not followed him, would climb on board again, or, equally as bad, raise a premature alarm.
Second Phillips was made of the right stuff. Since Atherton had not called for aid he felt convinced that his Leader was still keeping Bill under observation. Holding on to the bob-stay, and keeping close to the bows of the yacht, Phillips waited, chin deep in water, either till the expected shout for assistance came or else till Atherton got clear of the mysterious craft.
With many muttered curses the truculent Bill ascended the short companion-ladder and gained the deck. Pulling back the hatch he remained by the companion, his gaze directed towards the frowning cliffs by the Tea Caves.
"Two more cursed hours!" muttered the man, loudly enough for the Scout to overhear.
"Wot's 'e got to be afraid of I should like to know. Well, any'ow, to-night'll see the last o' the swag safe aboard."
Atherton felt a quiver of excitement pass through his frame. If the silver were to be recovered the opportunity was at hand. There was little time to be lost. To send for the assistance of the local police and the coastguards might result in the scoundrels "getting the wind of it."
It must be the Scouts to whom the credit of recovering Sir Silas Gwinnear's plate must fall.
The seaman was coming for'ard. From his place of concealment, Atherton could hear his heavy footfall upon the yielding deck. Would it be possible that the fellow had any suspicions that some one in addition to his mate was on board?
In any case the Scout realised that he must evade capture. Nearer and nearer came the man. Atherton prepared to spring from his hiding-place arid leap into the sea, but to his great relief Bill turned on his heel and retraced his footsteps.
"He's going to pace the deck for the next hour or so, I suppose," thought Atherton. "A nice pickle we are in: Phillips shivering in the water and I doing ditto under a damp sail."
But Atherton was wrong in his surmise. The fellow took two or three turns up and down the deck, gave another glance shorewards and then whispered to his companion to "douse the glim again."
With the utmost satisfaction Atherton heard the seaman push back the hatch. His heavy sea-boots grated on the brass stair-treads; and then, with a vicious bang, the hatch was shut once more.
Rising from his place of concealment, Atherton lowered himself into the water, and the two lads began their shoreward swim; at first in silence, and then, as soon as a safe distance had been covered, they conversed in low tones.
"We're in luck, Atherton."
"Yes, if things turn out all right. I wonder what Mr Buckley will suggest?"
"No doubt he will order the boats to be manned, and we'll have to try our chances with Bill and his pal. It's fortunate we know his gun isn't loaded. Here, Phillips, are we heading the right way? I don't see the place where we climbed down."
"The tide must be setting in by now," replied Phillips. "We're being swept away to the west'ard. I vote we swim straight for shore and then keep close to it until we come to the right spot. The tide won't run so strong inshore."
"You lads have been a long time," remarked Mr Buckley, as the two Scouts, tired with their exertions, scrambled on to the ledge where the Scoutmaster had been anxiously awaiting their reappearance.
"It's all right, sir," exclaimed Atherton; "we've found out something": and as briefly and explicitly as he could the Scout related what had occurred on board the yacht.
"You're quite right, Atherton," said Mr Buckley, when the Leader had finished his report. "Something must be done at once. It is now close on twelve o'clock. You're both dressed? Good. Shin up the rope, Phillips; it will take three of you to haul me up, I am afraid."
As soon as the Scoutmaster and the two Scouts had reached the summit of the cliff, a hasty palaver was held and a rough plan of action decided upon. Green was despatched to the camp to turn out the "Wolves," who were to double to the place where the Scoutmaster awaited them.
"That's good, Simpson," said Mr Buckley, as the patrol turned up in fine fettle. "You left the Tenderfoots in camp? Hayes and Coventry, take that flashing lamp and call up the coastguard at Refuge Point. Tell them that there's a yacht lying off the Tea Caves, and that her crew are going to remove the stolen silver. The rest of us had better make tracks for the Tea Caves as soon as possible. Since Tassh is concealed in the inner one—that is what you heard, I believe, Atherton?—we ought to nab him as he squeezes through the narrow passage between the two divisions. Now, Scouts, silence is essential as soon as we gain the ledge."
One by one the "Wolves" descended by means of the rope; then the Scoutmaster was lowered by the "Otters," who brought up the rear of the expedition. Treading cautiously, the Scouts crept in single file towards the rascally butler's lair.
Within the caves all was quiet. If Tassh lay concealed in the innermost one he gave no sign of his presence. Apparently he had learnt a certain amount of caution, for all tracks between the mouth of the cave and the narrow "needle's-eye" communicating with the two divisions were carefully obliterated.
Without a word being spoken the Scouts took up their allotted positions: Simpson and the 1st and 2nd class Scouts of his patrol stationed themselves on either side of the entrance to the inner cave; Atherton and the available "Otters" hid in a deep recess just inside the outer entrance; while Mr Buckley remained without in order to keep the yacht under observation.
Slowly, in utter silence, the hours passed. Although the Scoutmaster could not see the time by his watch, he felt fairly convinced that it could not be much past midnight. To the waiting Scouts the period of waiting seemed interminable.
At length the Scouts pricked up their ears. From the depths of the inner cave came an uncanny sound. As Simpson afterwards described it, it was like the armoured body of an enormous crab grating over the rocks. This was followed by the deep breathing of a man who had been put to great physical strain. Then came the stealthy footfalls of some one walking over the dry sand that formed the floor of the cave.
Simpson and the "Wolves" were tingling with excitement.
It was Tassh.
The rascally butler began to crawl through the "needle's eye." Once or twice he paused, as if scenting danger; then, drawing himself clear, he regained his feet.
It was as much as the "Wolves" could do to restrain themselves from falling upon and overpowering their quarry, since the man stood almost within arm's length of Simpson on the one hand and Neale on the other. But to do this would be acting prematurely. Unless otherwise compelled to tackle their man, the Scouts were content to let him alone until he had lured Bill and his companions ashore. So, crouching behind the huge boulders that had at some time fallen from the roof of the cave, the lads watched Tassh stealthily make his way towards the entrance.
"I wonder if he'll spot Mr Buckley," thought Simpson. But the Scoutmaster was too wary for that. He had clambered upon a narrow ledge seven feet above the main path, whence he could command a view of the cave and the sea as well as the misty starlight would permit.
"Oh, there you are, my fine fellow," muttered Mr Buckley, as Tassh, looking anxiously along the main ledge that gave access to the caves, emerged into the open, utterly ignorant of the fact that seven of the "Otters" were within ten yards of him and that a few inches above his head the Scoutmaster had him under observation.
Still Tassh hesitated. He even walked a few paces along the ledge, and scanned the rugged cliffs above his head. At length, drawing a portable electric lamp from his pocket, he flashed it twice in quick succession in the direction of the yacht.
This signal was instantly replied to by the light of a match. The Scoutmaster could see the gleam light up the features of the man Bill. To guard against causing suspicion the fellow was pretending to light a pipe, twice closing his fingers over the flickering match in order to reassure the ex-butler that his message was understood.
Tassh waited no longer. He turned and literally sneaked back to his den, none of the Scouts attempting to bar his passage.
Another ten minutes passed. There were no further signs of movement on the yacht. The Scoutmaster began to wonder whether 'Tassh's signal was intended to mean that he was suspicious about something, to defer the visit of Bill and his companion in crime until another night.
"I wish they'd hurry up," soliloquised Mr Buckley. "I shouldn't wonder if the coastguard boat doesn't turn up soon and nab them. It's a pity. I wish I had told Hayes not to signal quite so soon. The Scouts will only share the fruits of victory, I am afraid."
Just then came the sound of a splash in the water. The crew of the yacht had dragged a collapsible boat from the cabin and had launched it over the side.
The Scoutmaster waited till the boat was fairly close inshore, then, having made certain that only one man was on board, he silently slipped from his post of observation and rejoined Atherton and the "Otters" in the recess by the mouth of the cave.
Grasping Atherton's hand the Scoutmaster, by means of a series of long and short grips, spelled out a message in Morse.
"Man coming: tackle him on entering cave."
The Leader signified that the message was understood, and passed it on to Phillips, who in turn communicated it to Green and Mayne. Before the remaining "Otters" could be informed, the man from the yacht was heard scaling the cliff between the water's edge and the ledge.
With a strange sensation in his throat, Atherton braced himself for the onslaught. He could hear the partially suppressed breathing of his companions and the rapidly approaching steps of Tassh's nocturnal visitor. The patch of starlit sky at the mouth of the cave was darkened by the hulking figure of Bill.
Unhesitatingly the fellow advanced into the cave, then drawing an electric torch from his pocket he flashed it ahead to guide his footsteps. The beam of light fell, not upon the sanded floor, but upon the figure of the Scoutmaster standing full in his path.
With a muttered oath, Bill threw down the canvas bag, hurled his lamp at Mr Buckley, and turned to seek safety in flight.
Up from their hiding-place the "Otters" ran as one man and threw themselves upon the rogue. Bill's fist shot out straight at Atherton's chin, but luckily for the Scout it was light enough for him to see to parry the blow. Down went Bill, struggling and raving like a madman, with his six youthful yet active assailants on to him like a pack of bulldogs.
"Chuck it," growled Bill sullenly, as Atherton applied an arm-lock. "Chuck it orl you'll break my bloomin' arm. I gives in."
Securely bound hand and foot the prisoner was carried out into the open. The first phase of the capture of the robbers of Sir Silas Gwinnear's silver was effected.
"Now, lads!" exclaimed Mr Buckley, "that's number one. 'Wolves'! Keep watch over the inner cave; we'll rout out Mr Tassh later on. Everest and Baker stand by the prisoner. The rest of the 'Otters' follow me. We must board the yacht and capture the remaining member of the crew."