"Hallo!" cried his companion, eagerly; "let's have it. Got a bright idea as to how to get out?"

"No," said Aleck, "I was laughing at the comic way in which you keep on finding fault."

"Humph! Well, I have been going it rather, haven't I?"

"Doing nothing else but growl."

"That's the worst of having a nasty temper. Don't do a bit of good either, does it?"

"Not a bit," said Aleck. "Makes things still worse."

"Think so?"

Aleck nodded.

"Yes, I suppose you're right. I'll drop it then. Now, then, what do you say to having a good long snooze?"

"I'm willing," said Aleck, "for I'm thoroughly tired out."

"Put out the light then. My word, what a good thing sleep is!" said the midshipman, after they had lain in silence for a few minutes. "Makes you able to forget all your troubles."

There was a pause, and then the midshipman began:

"I say it makes you able to forget all your troubles, doesn't it?"

Still silence.

"Don't you hear what I say?"

No answer.

"Hanged if he isn't asleep! How a fellow can be such a dormouse-headed animal at a time like this I don't know."

He ought to have known, a minute later, for he was lying upon his back, fast asleep and breathing hard, dreaming of all kinds of pleasant things, some of which had to do with being feasted after getting free.



CHAPTER TWENTY NINE.

The next day the two lads could only think of their attempt with a shudder, for their efforts, though they did not quite grasp the narrowness of their escape from death, had resulted in a peculiar shock to their system, one effect of which was to make then disinclined to do anything more than sit and lie in the darkness watching the faint suggestion of dawn in the direction of the submerged archway. Then, too, they slept a good deal, while even on the following day they both suffered a good deal from want of energy.

Towards evening, though, Aleck roused up.

"Look here, sailor," he said, "this will not do. We ought to be doing something."

"What?" said the middy, sadly. "Try again to drown ourselves?"

"Oh, no; that was a bit of madness. We mustn't try that again."

"What then? It seems to me that we may as well keep going to sleep till we don't wake again."

"What!" shouted Aleck, his companion's words fully rousing him from his lethargic state. "Well, of all the cowardly things for a fellow to say!"

"Cowardly!" cried the middy, literally galvanised into action by the sound of that word. "You want to quarrel, then, do you? You want to fight, eh? Very well, I'm your man. Let's light the lanthorn and have it out at once."

"Oh, very well," cried Aleck. "There's a nice soft bit of sand yonder that will just do."

The middy snorted like an angry animal and began to breathe hard, while Aleck, feeling regularly angry now, felt for the tinder-box and matches, and began to send the sparks flying in showers.

The tinder was soon glowing, the match well alight, and a fresh candle stuck in its place, the lanthorn being set upon a flat stone, with the door open, after which the two lads slipped off their jackets and rolled up their sleeves.

"Shut the lanthorn door, stupid," cried the middy.

"What for?"

"What for? To keep the candle from tumbling out the first time I knock you up against that stone."

"I should like to catch you at it," said Aleck. "If I shut the door how am I to see to hit you on the nose?"

"You hit me on the nose? Ha, ha!" cried the middy. "Why, I shall have you calling out that you've had enough long before you get there."

"We shall see," said Aleck. "Don't you think that you're going to frighten me with a lot of bounce. Now, then, are you ready?"

"Yes, I'm ready enough. I'll show you whether I'm a coward or not. Here, hold out your hand."

"What for?"

"To shake hands, of course, and show that we mean fair play."

"I never stopped for that when I had a fight with the Rockabie boys, but there you are."

Hands were grasped, and the midshipman was about to withdraw his, but it was held tightly, and somehow or another his own fingers began to respond in a tight clench.

And thus they stood for quite a minute, while some subtle fluid like common-sense in a gaseous form seemed to run up their arms through their shoulders, and then divide, for part to feed their brains and the other part to make their hearts beat more calmly.

At last Aleck spoke.

"I say," he said, "aren't we going to make fools of ourselves?"

"I don't know," was the reply, "but I'll show you I'm not a coward."

"I never thought you were a coward, but you'd say I was one if I told you that I didn't want to fight."

"No, I shouldn't," said the middy, "because I can't help feeling that it is stupid, and I don't want to fight either."

"Then, why should we fight?"

"Oh," said the middy, "there are times when a gentleman's bound to stand upon his honour. We ought to fight now with pistols; but as we have none why, of course, it has to be fists. Besides, I don't suppose you could use a pistol, and it wouldn't be fair for me to shoot you."

"I daresay I know as much about pistols as you do," said Aleck. "I've shot at a mark with my uncle. But we needn't argue about that."

"No, we've got our fists, so let's get it done."

But they did not begin, for the idea that they really were about to make fools of themselves grew stronger, and as they dropped their hands to raise them again as fists, neither liked to strike the first blow.

Suddenly an idea struck Aleck as he glanced sidewise to see their shadows stretched out in a horribly grotesque, distorted form upon the dark water, and he smiled to himself as he saw his fists elongated into clubs, while he said, suddenly:

"I say, I don't want, you to think me a coward."

"Very well, then, you had better show you are not by fighting hard to keep me from giving you an awful licking."

"You can't do it," said Aleck; "but I say I don't want to fight."

"Perhaps not; but you'll soon find you'll have to, or I shall call you the greatest coward I ever saw."

"But it seems so stupid when we are in such trouble to make things worse by knocking one another about."

"Well, yes, perhaps it does," replied the middy.

"Suppose, then, I do something brave than fighting you," said Aleck.

"What could you do?"

"Put the rope round me again and try to swim out. That would be doing some good."

"You daren't do it?"

"Yes, I dare," cried Aleck, "and I will if you'll say that it's as brave as fighting you."

"I don't know whether it's as brave," said the middy, "but I'd sooner fight than try the other. Ugh! I wouldn't try that again for anything."

"Very well, then, I will," said Aleck, stoutly. "You must own now that it's a braver thing to do than to begin trying to knock you about. There, put down your hands, I'm not going to fight."

"You're beaten then."

"Not a bit of it. I'm going to show you that I'm not a coward."

"No, you're not," said the middy, after a few minutes' pause, during which Aleck ran to the rock and brought back the now dry rope in its loose coil.

To his surprise the middy took a step forward and caught hold of it tightly to try and jerk it away.

"What are you going to do?" said Aleck, in wonder.

"Put it back," said the middy.

"Why?"

"Because you're trying to make me seem a coward now."

"I don't understand you."

"Do you think I'm going to be such a coward as to let you do what I'm afraid to do myself?"

"Then you would be afraid to go again?"

"Yes, of course I should be. So would you."

"Yes, I can't help feeling horribly afraid; but I'll do it," said Aleck.

"To show you're not a coward?"

"Partly that, and partly because I fancy that perhaps I could swim out this time."

"And I'm sure you couldn't," said the middy, "and I shan't let you go."

"You can't stop me?"

"Yes, I can; I won't hold the rope."

"Then I'll go without."

"Why, there'll be no one to pull you back if you get stuck."

"I don't care; I'll go all the same."

"Then you are a coward," cried the middy, triumphantly.

"Mind what you're about," said Aleck, hotly. "Don't you say that again."

"Yes, I will. You're a coward, for you're going to try and swim out, and leave your comrade, who daren't do it, alone here to die."

"Didn't think of that," said Aleck. "There, I won't try to go now; so don't be frightened."

"What!"

Aleck burst out laughing.

"I say," he cried, "what tempers we have both got into! Let's go and do something sensible to try and work it off."

"But there's nothing we can do," said the middy, despondently.

"Yes, there is. As the lanthorn's alight, let's go and have a try at the zigzag."

The middy followed his companion without a word, and they both climbed up wearily and hopelessly to have another desperate try to dislodge the stones, but only to prove that it was an impossible task.

Literally wearied out, they descended, after being compelled to desist by the candle gradually failing, while it had gone right out in the socket before they reached the cave.

But their utter despondency was a little checked by the sight of the soft pale light which seemed to rise from the water more clearly than ever before; and Aleck said so, but the middy was of the opposite opinion.

"No," he said. "It only seems so after the horrible darkness of that hole."

"I don't know," said Aleck; "it certainly looks brighter to me. See how clear the arch looks with the seaweed waving about! I say, sailor, I've a great mind to have another try."

"No, you haven't," growled the middy, wearily. "I can't spare you. I'm not going to stop here and die all alone."

"You wouldn't, for I should drag you out after me."

"Couldn't do it after you were drowned."

"I shouldn't be drowned," said Aleck, slowly and thoughtfully.

"Be quiet—don't bother—I'm so tired—regularly beat out after all that trying up yonder; and so are you. I say, Aleck, I'm beginning to be afraid that we shall never see the sunshine again."

Aleck said nothing, but lay gazing sadly at the dimly-seen arch in the water, and followed the waving to and fro of the great fronds of sea-wrack, till he shuddered once or twice and seemed to feel them clinging round his head and neck, making it dark, but somehow without causing the horrible, strangling, helpless sensation he had suffered from before. In fact, it seemed to be pleasant and restful, and by degrees produced a sensation of coolness that was most welcome after the stifling heat at the top of the zigzag, which had been made worse by the odour of the burning candle.

Then Aleck ceased to think, but lay in the cool, soft darkness, till all at once he started up sitting and wondering.

"Why, I've been asleep," he said to himself. "Here, sailor."

"Yes; what was that?"

"I don't know. I seemed to hear something."

"Have you been asleep?"

"Yes; have you?"

"I think so," said the middy. "We must have been. But, I say, it really is much lighter this time."

"So I thought," said Aleck. "And, I say, I can smell the fresh seaweed. Is the arch going to be open at last?"

Phee-ew! came a low, plaintive whistle.

"Hear that?" cried Aleck, wildly.

"Yes, I heard it in my sleep. The place is getting open then. There it goes again. It must be a gull."

"No, no, no!" cried Aleck, wildly, his voice sounding cracked and broken from the overpowering joy that seemed to choke him. "Don't you know what it is?"

"A seagull, I tell you."

"No, no, no! It's Tom Bodger's whistle. You listen now."

There was a dead silence in the cavern, save that both lads felt or heard the throbbing in their breasts.

"I can't hear anything," said the middy, at last. "What was it?"

"Nothing," gasped Aleck. "I can't—can't whistle now."

But he made another effort to control his quivering tips, mastered them into a state of rigidity, and produced a repetition of the same low, plaintive note that had reached their ears.

Directly after, the whistle was repeated from outside, and, as Aleck produced it once more in trembling tones, the lads leaped to their feet, for, coming as it were right along the surface of the water, as if through some invisible opening, there came the welcome sound:

"Ship ahoy! Master Aleck—a—" suck—suck—flop—flop—a whisper, and then something like a sigh.

"It is Tom Bodger!" cried Aleck, in a voice he did not know for his own, and something seemed to clutch him about the throat, and he knelt there muttering something inaudible to himself.



CHAPTER THIRTY.

Phee-ew! Phee-ew! The peculiar gull-like whistle once more, to run in a softened series of echoes right up into the farthest part of the cavern. Then there came the peculiar sucking, ploshing sound as of water filling up an opening. A minute later "Ship ahoy!" from outside.

"Tom! Ahoy!" yelled Aleck, wildly.

"Ahoy, my lad! Ahoy!" and something else was cut off by the soft sucking splash of water again, while to make the lads' position more painful in their efforts to reply, twice over they were conscious of the fact that when they replied with a shout their cries did not pass through the orifice, which the water had closed.

But the tide was ebbing steadily, and the tiny arc of the rocks which showed the way in was growing more open, so that at the end of a few minutes they heard plainly:

"Where'bouts are yer, my lad?"

"In here!" shouted Aleck, but only in face of a dull plosh.

Another minute and the question was repeated, but from whence the lads could hardly tell, for instead of coming from the cavern mouth the words seemed to come from far up the cavern, to be followed by another splash. It was quite half a minute before, taught by experience, Aleck shouted:

"Shut in here! Cave!"

There was another plosh, but they had proof soon after that the words had been heard, for the hail now came:

"Are yer 'live, my lad?"

"Ye-es," cried Aleck. "Quite!" and then he could in his excitement hardly control a hysterical laugh at the absurdity of the question and answer.

"Thought yer was dead and gone, my lad," came now, in company with a fainter splashing.

"Tom Bodger!"

"Hullo!" came quickly.

"We're shut in by the water."

"Who's 'we'?"

"The cutter's midshipman and I."

"Wha-a-at! Then there arn't nayther on yer dead and drownded, my lad?"

"No-o-o-o!"

"Then I say hooray! hooray! But can't you swim out?"

"No. We've tried."

"Ho!" came back. "Wait a bit."

"What for? Can't you get help for us, Tom?"

"Ay, ay, my lad," came back. "But jest you wait."

Then there was silence, and the prisoners joined hands, to kneel, waiting and listening.

"He has gone for help," said the middy.

"Yes, and before he gets back that little hole that let his words in will be shut up again."

"Never mind," said the middy, sagely; "he knows we're here."

"Oh, but why didn't I think to tell him of the zigzag path? I daresay they could get the stones out from above where they were pushed in."

"Perhaps he hasn't gone," said the middy. "Ahoy there!"

There was a peculiar sound as of the water rising up and gurgling along a channel, while a lapping sound at their feet told that the water inside was being put in motion.

"Why, he has dived down," cried Aleck, suddenly, "so as to try and get to us."

"Tchah! Nonsense. That squat little wooden-legged man couldn't swim."

But at the end of what seemed to be a long period they heard a louder splash, followed by another, and the illuminated water began to dance and a curious ebullition to be faintly seen.

Then there was a panting sigh, and a familiar voice cried:

"Where'bouts are yer?"

"Here, here!" cried the lads, in a breath, and the next minute they were conscious of something swimming towards them, which took shape more and more till they saw that it was a man swimming on his back.

"What cheer-ho!" came now, in the midst of a lot of splashing. "Lend us a hand, my lads, for I'm all at sea here. Thanky! Steady! Let's get soundings for my legs. Mind bringing that lanthorn a bit forrarder? That's right; now I can see where I go."

Tom Bodger had managed to find a hold for his stumps, and stood shaking himself as well as he could for the fact that he had a lad holding tightly on to each hand.

"Well, yer don't feel like ghostses, my lads!" cried the sailor. "This here's solid flesh and bone, and it's rayther disappynting like."

"Disappointing, Tom?"

"Yes, Master Aleck. Yer see, your uncle says: 'You find the poor lad's remains, Bodger,'—remains, that's what he called it—'and I'll give yer a ten-pound Bank o' Hengland note,' he says."

"Oh!" cried Aleck, passionately.

"And the orficer there from the Revenoo cutter, he says: 'You find the body o' young Mr Wrighton of the man-o'-war sloop, and there'll be the same reward for that.'"

"Humph! I should have thought I was worth more than that," said the midshipman.

"Ay, ay, sir!" cried Tom Bodger, who was squeezing his shirt and breeches as he talked. "So says I, sir; but it's disappynting, for I arn't found no corpses, on'y you young gents all as live-ho as fish; and what's to come o' my rewards?"

"Oh, bother the rewards, Tom! How did you get in?"

"Dove, sir, and swimmed on my back with my flippers going like one o' the seals I've seen come in here."

"But we tried to do that, both of us, and we couldn't do it."

"Dessay not, sir. Didn't try on the right tide."

"Nearly got drowned, both of us, my lad," said the midshipman. "But don't let's lose time. You show the way, and we'll follow you."

"No hurry, sir; plenty o' time. Be easier bimeby. Tide's got another hour o' ebb yet. But how in the name o' oakum did you two gents manage to get in here? I knowed there was a hole here where the seals dove in, and I did mean to come sploring like at some time or other; but it's on'y once in a way as you can row in."

Aleck told him in a few words, and the man whistled.

"Well, I'll be blessed!" he said. "I allus knowed that Eben Megg and his mates must have a store hole somewhere, and p'raps if I'd ha' lay out to sarch for it I might ha' found it out. But I didn't want to go spying about and get a crack o' the head for my pains. The Revenoo lads'll find out for theirselves some day; and so you young gents have been the first?"

"Stop a minute," said Aleck. "What about Eben Megg?"

"Oh, they cotched him days ago, sir—cutter's men dropped upon him while they was hunting for this young gent's corpus, and he's aboard your ship, sir, I expect, along with the other pressed men."

"But haven't they been looking for me any more?" said the middy.

"No, sir; they give it up arter they'd caught Eben; and, as I telled yer, there was a reward offered for to find yer dead as they couldn't find yer living."

"So that's why Eben didn't come back, sailor," said Aleck, quietly.

"Yes," said the middy, "but why didn't he tell the cutter's officer that we were shut up here?"

"Too bitter about his capture, perhaps, or he might not have had a chance to speak while he was ashore."

"I don't believe it was that," said the middy. "I believe he wouldn't tell where their storehouse was."

"And so this here's the smugglers' cave, is it?" said Tom Bodger, looking about. "But where's t'other way out, sir?"

Aleck explained that the smuggler had closed the way up.

"Well, sir, it's a wery artful sort o' place, I will say that. Lot o' good things stored up here, I s'pose?"

"Plenty."

"Hah! Is there now? Well, it means some prize money, Mr Wrighton, sir, and enough to get a big share."

"And I deserve it, my man," said the middy, with something of his old consequential way; "but let's get out into the daylight. I'm afraid— I'm—that is, I shouldn't like to be shut in again."

"No fear, sir. You trust me. Lot more time yet. 'Sides, the tide'll fall lower to-morrow morning; but I'll get you out as soon as I can, for your poor uncle's quite took to his bed, Master Aleck."

"Uncle has?"

"Yes, sir. Chuffy sharp-spoken gent as he always was, blest if he didn't say quite soft to me, with the big tears a-standing in his eyes: 'It's all over, Bodger, my man,' he says, 'and you may have the poor boy's boat, for I know if he could speak now he would say, "Give it to poor old Tom."'"

"Poor old uncle!" said Aleck, huskily. "Then you're cheated again, Tom, and have lost your boat?"

"And hearty glad on it, too, Master Aleck, say I. A-mussy me, my lad, what would the Den ha' been without you there? The captain wouldn't ha' wanted me. I don't wonder as I couldn't rest, but come over here every morning and stayed till dark, climbing about the rocks and cliffs, with the birds a-shouting at me and thinking all the time that I'd come arter their young 'uns—bubblins, as we calls 'em, 'cause they're so fat."

"And so they haven't been looking for me any more?" said the middy, in a disappointed tone.

"No, sir; not since they telled me to keep on looking for yer. You see, everybody said as you must ha' gone overboard and been washed out to sea, same as the captain felt that you'd slipped off the cliff somewhere, Master Aleck, and been drowned. But I kep' on thinking as both on yer might ha' been washed into some crivissy place and stuck there, and that's why I kep' on peeking and peering about, hoping I might come upon one of you if I didn't find both; and sure enough, here you are. I don't know what you gents think on it, but I call it a right-down good morning's work for such a man as me."

"But you did not walk over from Rockabie this morning, my man?" said the middy.

"Not walk over, sir? Oh, yes, I did."

"You must be very tired?"

"Not me, sir. My legs never get tired; and yet the queerest thing about it is that they allus feel stiff."

"Don't talk any more, Tom," said Aleck. "I want to get to business. Now, then, don't you think we might get out now?"

"Well, yes, sir; p'raps we might. It's a good deal lighter, you see, since I come, but she's far from low water yet, and it'll come much easier when tide's right down. But can't I have a bit of a look round, Master Aleck?"

"Of course," was the reply, and the sailor grinned and chuckled as he ran his eyes over what he looked upon as a regular treasure house for anyone whose dealings were on the sea with boats.

The cavern was lighter now than the two prisoners had ever seen it, so that Tom was able to have a good look; and he finished off by trotting down as near to the mouth of the great place as he could, and then turning to Aleck.

"There," he said, "I think we might venture out now. You can swim out now without having to dive. What do you say, Mr Wrighton, sir?"

"I think we ought to go at once."

"Come on, then, gen'lemen. You'll get a bit wet, but there's a long climb arterwards up the hot rocks in the sunshine, and you'll be 'most dry 'fore you get home."

"Oh, never mind the water," cried the middy. "My uniform's spoilt. I'm ready to do anything to get out of here."

"Will you go first, sir?" cried Tom Bodger.

"No, you found the way in," was the reply, "so lead the way out."

"Right, sir. Ready?"

"Then come on."

The man took three or four of his queer steps, to stand for a moment on the edge of the deep pool, and then went in sidewise to swim like a seal for the low archway, whose weed-hung edges were only a few inches above the surface of the water, and as he reached it to pass under he laid his head sidewise so that the dripping shell-covered weed wiped his cheek.

There had been no hesitation on the part of the prisoners. Aleck sprang in as soon as their guide was a few feet away, and the middy followed, both finding their task delightfully easy as they swam some fifty yards through a low tunnel, whose roof was for the most part so close to the surface that more than once, as the smooth water heaved, Aleck's face just touched the impending smoothly-worn stone.

But there were two places, only a few yards in, where the arch was broken into a yawning crack, from which the water dripped in a heavy shower.

"Look up as you come along here," cried Aleck to his companion, and then he shuddered, for his voice raised a peculiar echo, suggesting weird hollows and tunnels, while as he increased his strokes to get past and the middy came under in turn, he shouted again after his leader:

"Why, Tom, that must be where the water snatched us up and nearly drowned us."

Five minutes later all three were swimming for a rough natural pier, and Tom Bodger gave his head a sidewise wag towards another low cavernous arch.

"'Nother way in there," he said. "Jynes the one we came out of. You must have seen how the waves dance and splash there in rough weather, Master Aleck?"

"No," was the reply. "I've only seen that it's a terribly rough bit of coast. I never came down here, and of course I was never out in my boat when it was rough."

"Course not, sir. It is a coarse bit. I had no end of a job to get down, and I spect that it's going to be a bit worse going up agen. What do you say to sitting up yonder in the sunshine on that there shelf? The birds'll soon go. You can make yourselves comf'able and get dry while I go up and get a rope. Dessay I can be back in an hour or so."

"No," cried the lads, in a breath. "We'll climb it if you can."

Climb up the dangerous cliff they did by helping one another, and with several halts to look down at the still falling tide; and in one of these intervals Aleck exclaimed:

"But I still can't see how the smugglers could run a boat up and row into that cavern."

"Course they couldn't row, sir," replied Tom, "on'y shove her in. But don't you see what a beautiful deep cut there is? Bound to say that at the right time they'd run a big lugger close in. Look yonder! It's just like the way into a dock, and sheltered lovely. Ah, they're an artful lot, smugglers! You never know what they're after."

It was about an hour later that, without passing a soul on their solitary way, the party reached the cliff path down into the Den garden, where no Dunning was visible, and a chill came over Aleck like a warning of something fresh in the way of disaster that he was to encounter.

It came suddenly, but it was as suddenly chased away by his hearing the voice of Jane crooning over the words of some doleful old West Country ballad, not of a cheering nature certainly, but sufficient to prove that someone was at the house.

"Wait here," he whispered to his companions. "Let me go and see my uncle first."

He crept in unheard, glanced round to see that the lower room was empty, and then went softly up the stairs, his well-soaked boots making as little noise as if they had been of indiarubber.

The study door yielded to a touch, and he stood gazing at the figure of his uncle, seated in his usual place, but with pen, ink and papers thrust aside so that he could bow his grey head down upon his clasped hands.

"Asleep, uncle?" said the lad, softly.

"Aleck, my boy!" cried the old man, springing up to catch the lost one in his arms. "Heaven be thanked! I was mourning for you as dead."



CHAPTER THIRTY ONE.

Comfortably settled down at the Den as Aleck's guest and made most welcome, the middy felt not the slightest inclination to stir; but all through life there is to all of us the call of duty, and the lad was ready to recommence his, and eager to report to headquarters his discovery of the notorious smugglers' cave.

Enquiries at Rockabie proved that the sloop and cutter had both sailed, so a letter had to convey some of the information—"a despatch," the young officer called it; and after it was sent he constituted himself guardian of the smugglers' treasure and headed a little expedition, composed of Aleck and Tom Bodger, to examine the land way down into the cave, which they approached by a rope provided by Tom, who said he didn't "keer" about jumping down from that there shelf, because his legs were so stiff.

Then a descent was made by the sloping zigzag paths, till the corner was reached, about half way down, where the way was blocked.

"Only fancy," said Aleck. "How we did fight to get out from below, and it's all as simple as can be from up here."

And so it was, for three stones had been drawn down the slope, one partly over the other and the other fitting nicely to either, but only requiring a little effort to pull them back, after—

Yes, it was after one smaller wedge-shaped piece had been lifted out by Tom Bodger, this wedge being like a key stone or bolt to hold the others in place so tightly that it was impossible so shift them from below.

Tom Bodger had just removed the last stone into a big recess, which had probably been formed by the smugglers to hold them, when the middy turned round sharply upon a dark figure which had, unseen before, been following them.

"Hallo!" he cried. "Who are you?"

"It's me, sir—Dunning, sir—the captain's gardener, sir. Come to see, sir, if I could be of any help."

"No," cried Aleck, sharply, "you've come to play the spy, you deceitful old rascal."

"Oh, Master Aleck, sir!" whined the man, "how can you say such a thing?"

"Because I know you by heart. You've been hand and glove with the smugglers all through."

"Master Aleck, sir!"

"That will do," cried the lad, indignantly. "I've never told my uncle what I've seen or heard, but I must now, and you know what to expect."

"Master Aleck!"

"That's it, is it?" said the middy. "He's one of the gang, and of course I shall make him a prisoner as soon as we get out. Here, you, Bodger, I order you in the King's name to take that man prisoner."

"Ay, ay, sir," cried Tom, and he made a move towards the gardener.

But it was ineffective, for the man suddenly thrust out a foot and hooked one of the pensioner's wooden legs off the stone floor of the slope, giving him a sharp thrust in the chest at the same time.

There is a game called skittles, or, more properly, ninepins, in which if you strike one of the pins deftly it carries on the blow to the next, which follows suit, and so on, till the blow given to number one has resulted in all nine being laid low.

"Jes' like ninepins, Master Aleck," said Tom, "only there's nobbut three on us. I beg your pardon, sir; I couldn't help it."

"No, no, no, no, no!" roared Aleck, each utterance being a part of a hearty laugh, for the gardener had knocked Tom over, Tom had upset him, and the blow he carried on to the midshipman had sent the latter rolling down the slope, to come raging up as soon as he could gain his feet and climb back.

"What are you laughing at?" he shouted.

"It was so comic," panted Aleck, wiping his eyes.

"Shall I go arter him, sir?" said Tom.

"No, no. He is half way to the top by now."

"Yes, yes," cried the middy; "and look sharp, or perhaps he'll be trying to shut us up again."

"Not he," said Aleck; "he won't stop till he is safe. I don't believe we shall see the lazy old scoundrel again."

Aleck's words proved to be true.

Later on he and his party made their way up to the smugglers' cottages, to find them deserted by everyone save Eben Megg's wife, with three pretty little dark-eyed children.

The woman looked frightened, and burst into tears as she recognised the young officer, who began at her at once.

"You're a nice woman, you are," he said. "What have you got to say for yourself for keeping me a prisoner below there?"

"I—I only did what I was told, sir," faltered the woman.

"Were you told to fasten us down there to starve?" cried the middy.

"Fasten?—to starve? Were you left down there, sir, when my Eben was knocked down and carried away?"

"Of course we were."

"I didn't know, sir," sobbed the woman. "If I had, though I was in such trouble, I'd have come and brought you all I could, same as I did before, sir. Indeed I would."

"Humph!" grunted the middy. "Well, you did feed me as well as you could. So you've lost your husband, then?"

The woman tried to answer, but only sobbed more loudly.

"There, don't cry," said the middy, more gently. "We shall make an honest man of him."

"And what's to become of my poor weans, Master Aleck? We shall all be turned out of the cottage."

"I don't think you will," said Aleck. "I daresay uncle won't let anyone interfere with you."

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There were busy days during the next week, with men from the sloop and cutter, brought back by the middy's "despatch," going up and down the zigzag like so many ants, bringing up the principal treasures of the cave, the sailors working with all their might over the greatest haul they had ever made, and chuckling over the amount of prize money they would have to draw.

There was a fair amount of work done and much recovering of valuable gear during two days of the next spring tide, when Aleck and his companion were rowed in one of the sloop's boats along a narrow channel of deep water right up the cavern. They were poled in, and found so much to interest them that they stayed too long and were nearly shut in once more, for the tide rose fast, and the men had to lie down in the boat and work her out with their hands, and then a wave came in and lifted her, jamming the gunwale against the slimy rock and weeds, threatening a more terrible imprisonment still; but just as matters were very serious and the lives of the party in imminent danger, the water sank a few inches and enabled the men to thrust the boat on into daylight.

That was the last time a boat entered that cave, for during a terrific storm in the ensuing winter the waves must have loosened and torn up some of the supporting stones of the archway, letting down hundreds of tons of rock in a land slide, so that where the cave had lain like a secret, the waves played regularly at high water, working more and more at every tide to lay bare the gloomy recesses to the light of day.

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Aleck saw no more of Willie Wrighton, midshipman, for two years, and then he came on a visit to the Den.

The next morning the two young men went for a stroll along the cliffs to have a look at the rocky chaos which had once formed the cave.

As they came near they caught sight of a solitary figure down towards where the archway submerged had lain, and Aleck made put that it was a big, well-built man-o'-war's man.

"Is that one of your fellows, sailor?" said Aleck, with the appellation he had used when they were prisoners together.

"Yes, he came over with me from Rockabie. Capital fellow he is too. Don't you know him again?"

"No," said Aleck, shading his eyes. "Yes, I do. How he is changed! Why, Eben Megg, I hardly knew you again without your beard."

"Glad to see you, Master Aleck," said the man, warmly. "Mr Wrighton here was good enough to bring me along with him to see the old place. I'm coming to make a long stay, sir, as soon as we're paid off, and— and—there, I arn't good at talking—about them things," continued the man, huskily, "but God bless you and the captain, sir, for all you've done for my poor wife and bairns."

"Oh, nonsense! Don't talk about it, Eben," said Aleck, huskily; "but, I say, young man, you nearly made an end of us by not coming back after you'd shut us in. What did you do it for—to kill us?"

"To kill you both, sir? Not me! I on'y wanted to make sure of you for an hour or two till I'd been home and scraped a few things together to take away with me. When I come back the cutter's lads dropped upon me, and I showed fight till a crack on the head knocked all the say out of me for about a fortnit. When I could speak they told me you'd both been found."

"Ahoy!" cried the middy, excitedly. "Here comes your rase chap, old wooden pegs. I'd nearly forgotten him. Does he live here?"

"Oh, yes, he's our gardener and odd man; been with us ever since Dunning ran away. Capital gardener he makes, sailor—digs a patch and then walks down it, making holes with his wooden legs to drop in the potatoes or cabbage plants, before standing on one leg and covering in the earth with the other. Hallo, Tom, what is it?"

"Sarvant, sir," said Tom, pulling his forelock, man-o'-war fashion, to the young officer. "Been showing Eben Megg how the cave was busted up, sir, in the storm. I beg pardon, sir; I've been scouring and swabbing out the boat 'smorning in case you and the luff-tenant wanted to go for a sail."

"To be sure," cried Aleck, eagerly. "Here, we'll go for a run to Rockabie and back, Eben; come and take the helm and show Mr Wrighton how the smugglers could run a boat close in among the rocks. You know; the same as you did that night."

"Ay, ay, sir. Come along, Tom. Shall we go round to the Den gully and fetch her, sir? We could run in up the channel below here, and pick you up? Bodger says the channel's quite clear."

"Do you think you could find your way in, Eben?" said Aleck, with a merry look.

"Find my way in, sir? Ay, sir, if it was black as ink, or with my eyes shut."

THE END.