He said these last words in a whisper, which sent a chill through the lads, for that he was serious there could be no doubt.

By this time two men were down by the boat, that was now half in the water, which had risen till she was rocking sidewise to and fro; and smartly enough the old fisherman turned and trotted over the sand to join in thrusting the boat out, and then sprang in.

This was too much for Mike, who made a sudden dash after him.

"Come on, Vince," he cried; and the boy followed, but only to catch hold of his companion as he clung to the bows of the boat.

"Don't I don't do that, Mike," cried Vince; "you couldn't get away."

Three men who had rushed after them, and were about to seize the prisoners, refrained as soon as they saw Vince's action; and the boat with old Daygo on board glided out among the rocks, and then pa.s.sed off out of sight, round the left b.u.t.tress of the cavern mouth.

This was enough: Mike turned furiously upon Vince and struck him, sending him staggering backward over the thick sand; and, unable to keep his balance, the lad came down in a sitting position.

"You coward!" cried Mike: "if it hadn't been for you we might have got away."

"Coward, am I?" cried Vince, as he sprang up and dashed at his a.s.sailant, with fists clenched and everything forgotten now but the blow. He did not strike out, though, in return, for an arm was thrown across his chest and a gruff voice growled out,--

"Are we to let 'em have it out, Capen Jarks?"

"No; _mais_ I sink zey might have von leetle rights. _Non, non, non_!

You do not vant to fight now, _mes enfans_; you have somesings else to sink. You feel like a big coward?"

"No, I don't," said Vince, to whom the words were addressed: "I'll let him see if you'll make this man let go."

"_Non, non, non_!" said the captain, raising his hand to tug at one of the rings in his ears. "You do not vant to fight. Let me see."

He began to feel the muscles of Vince's arms, and nodded as if with satisfaction.

"It seem a pity to finish off a boy like you. I sink you vould make a good sailor and a fine smugglaire on my sheep. Perhaps I sall not kill you."

"Bah!" cried Vince, looking him full in the face. "Do you think I'm such a little child as to be frightened by what you say?"

"Leetle schile? _Non, non. Vous etes un brave garcon_--a big, brave boy. Zere, you sall not fight like you _Anglais_ bouledogues, and vat you call ze game coq. You _comprends, mon enfant_."

"Then you'd better take him away," cried Vince, who was effervescing with wrath against his companion.

"Aha, yaas," said the Frenchman, grinning. "You sink I better tie you up like ze dogue. But, faith of a man, you fly at von and anozaire I sall--"

He drew a small pistol out of his breast, and, giving both lads a significant look,--

"Zere," he continued, "I sall not chain you bose up. You can run about and help vis ze crew. I only say to you ze pa.s.sage is block up vis big stone, ze hole vere ze seal live is no good--ze rock hang over ze wrong vay. You try to climb, and you are not ze leetler _mouche_--fly. You fall and die; and if you essay to svim, ze sharp tide take you avay to drown. Go and svim if you like: I sall not have ze pain to drown you.

But, my faith! vy do I tell you all zis? You bose know zat you cannot get avay now ze pa.s.sage is stop up vis stone, and I stop him vis a man who has sword and pistol as vell. Go and help ze men."

He walked away, leaving the boys together, carefully avoiding each other's eyes, as they felt that they were prisoners indeed, and wondered what was to be their fate.

Vince took a few turns up and down upon the sand with his hands deep in his pockets. Mike seated himself upon the keg he had occupied over his breakfast, for in their frame of mind they both resented being ordered to go and help the men; but at that time the worst pang of all seemed to be caused by the fact that, just at the moment when they wanted each other's help and counsel, with the strength of mind given by the feeling that they were together, they were separated by the unfortunate conduct of one.

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX.

THE PIRATE CAPTAIN OF THEIR DREAMS.

The walk did Vince good, for the action given to his muscles carried off the sensation which made his fists clench from time to time in his pockets and itch to be delivering blows wherever he could make them light on his companion's person.

He did not notice that he was ploughing a rut in the sand by going regularly to and fro, for he was thinking deeply about their position; and as he thought, the dread that the captain's words had inspired, endorsed as they were by Daygo's, began to fade away, till he found himself half contemptuously saying to himself that he should like to catch the skipper at it--it meaning something indefinite that might mean something worse, but in all probability keeping them prisoners till he had got away all his stores of smuggled goods.

Then, as the rut in the sand grew deeper from the regular tramp up and down, Vince's thoughts flitted from the trouble felt by his mother, who must be terribly anxious, to his companion, whose back was towards him, and who with elbows on knees had bent down to rest his chin upon his hands.

Vince was a little surprised at himself, and rather disposed to think that he was weak; for somehow all the hot blood had gone out of his arms and fists, which were now perfectly cool, and felt no longer any desire to fly about as if charged with pugno-electricity, which required discharging by being brought into contact with Mike's chest or head.

"Poor old Ladle!" he found himself thinking: "what a temper he was in!

But it was too bad to hit out like that, when what I did was to help him. But there, he didn't know."

Vince was pretty close to his fellow-prisoner now; but he had to turn sharply round and walk away.

"Glad I didn't hit him again, because if I had we should have had a big fight and I should have knocked him about horribly and beaten him well, and I don't want to. I'm such a stupid when I get fighting: I never feel hurt--only as if I must keep on hitting; and then all those sailor fellows would have been looking on and grinning at us. Glad we didn't fight."

Then Vince began to think again of their position, which he told himself was very horrible, but not half so bad as that of the people at both their homes, where, only a mile or two away from where they were, the greatest trouble and agony must reign.

"And us all the time with nothing the matter with us, and sitting down as we did and eating such a breakfast! Seems so unfeeling; only I felt half-starved, and when I began I could think of nothing else.--Such nonsense! he's not going to kill us, or he wouldn't have given us anything to eat. Here, I can't go on like this."

Vince stopped his walk to and fro at the end of the beaten-out track in the sand, and turned off to stand behind Mike, who must have heard him come, but did not make the slightest movement.

Then there was silence, broken by the voice of the French captain giving his orders to his men, who were evidently rearranging the stores ready for removal.

"I say, Mike," said Vince at last.

No answer.

"Michael."

Still no movement. "Mr Michael Ladelle."

Vince might have been speaking to the tub upon which his fellow-prisoner was seated, for all the movement made.

"Michael Ladelle, Esquire, of the Mount," said Vince; and there was a good-humoured look in his eyes, which twinkled merrily; but the other did not stir.

"Ladle, then," cried Vince; but without effect,--Mike was still gazing at the sand before him.

"I say, don't be such a sulky old Punch. Why don't you speak? I want to talk to you about getting away. Mike--Ladle--I say, you did hurt when you hit out at me. I shall have to pay you that back!"

No answer.

"Look here: aren't you going to say you're sorry for it and shake hands?"

Vince waited for a while and then burst out impatiently,--

"Look here, if you don't speak I'll kick the tub over and let you down."