The Adventures of Dick Trevanion: A Story of Eighteen Hundred and Four — John Shaqi
The Adventures of Dick Trevanion: A Story of Eighteen Hundred and FourStrang, Herbert
History
The Adventures of Dick Trevanion: A Story of Eighteen Hundred and Four
Strang, Herbert
Boys -- Juvenile fiction; Great Britain -- History -- 19th century -- Juvenile fiction; Smugglers -- Juvenile fiction
Dick climbed down the ladder, and crossed the floor of the cave to see
the extent of the mischief. It was as Sam had said. Their exit was
barred by a mass of rock and loose soil that must weigh several tons.
"Quick, Sam!" cried Dick, "we must work hard to clear it away. The tide
will be on the turn, and we don’t want to be imprisoned here all night."
They began to work with all haste, but soon found that the task would be
a long one. The smaller pieces of rock were easily cast aside; but
there were many large masses which, besides being heavy and cumbersome
themselves, were very difficult to move by reason of the earth in which
they were imbedded. The boys had made but little progress when the sea
began to creep in.
"We’ll be drownded alive!" said Sam, now in a state of terror.
"Work, then. Shove your hardest, Sam; we’ll do it yet."
They tugged and hauled and pushed with fierce energy, and by employing
their united strength upon the largest masses, they succeeded in
clearing a path wide enough to allow room for the boat. By this time
the water was almost up to their knees, and they heard the boat graze
the rocks as it floated on the incoming tide. Loosing the painter, they
pushed the craft through the tunnel, only to find, when they approached
the seaward opening, that but a small segment of the sky was visible,
the gap being too shallow to afford a passage.
"We are trapped, Sam; there’s no denying it," said Dick quietly. "But
don’t be alarmed. I don’t suppose the water reaches the roof of the
cave even at high tide, so that we can float in the boat quite safely.
It only means a few hours’ imprisonment."
"If I’ve got to be jailed, I’d rather be in village lock-up; ’tis dry at
any rate. Can’t we swim out, Maister Dick?"
"Of course we can, but I doubt whether we had better do it. There’s a
dozen yards or more under water first, and then a good half-mile outside
before we can land. We should get pretty well knocked about on the
rocks if there’s any swell on the sea. We had much better stay here."
Sam gloomily assented to this course. They got into the boat, and sat
there for some time watching it rise gradually as the tide grew higher.
"Hang me for a jackass!" cried Dick suddenly.
"What have ’ee been and done?" asked Sam with concern.
"Why, we haven’t got gun, cutlass, or any other weapon."
"’A b’lieve not," said Sam, "but we couldn’t keep out the tide with un
if we had forty guns and fifty cutlasses."
"The seals! They’ll come back with the tide, and be in a terrible rage
with us, thinking we’re after their babies."
"Be-jowned if I thought of it! ’Twas a true word; you do be a great
jackass, sure enough."
"Mind what you say, Sam, or I’ll throw you out."
"’Twas your word, not mine. I wouldn’t go so far as that. Ninnyhammer
is the worst I’d call ’ee. But I told ’ee how ’twould be, with yer head
itchin’ with this magget of openin’s and ladders and all that."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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