They bent to their oars. It was not much further to the cave, and as they came opposite its entrance they could see a light within its depths. The ship which was signalling for help lay farther over to the west, and was carrying all her navigation lights. She was nowhere near any rocks, and might have been a couple of miles offshore. As they came in sight of her—for her flares lit up her hull sufficiently to allow her to be seen for an instant—she released several more flares in quick succession.
‘I say,’ said O’Hara, as they rested on their oars, ‘I’ve had another hunch. I think those signals may be fakes, and they’re going to run the smuggled stuff when they’ve drawn off the lifeboat, and attracted the attention of the coastguards away from the headland. The lifeboat will be bound to put out, and all attention will be centred on the wreck. There’ll be two ships out there, I’d bet a pound, this one with lights and the other lying closer to the shore and further west—in fact, between this one and the cave. It’s not a bad scheme, and I’d like to foil it.’
‘Then in we go,’ said Gascoigne. ‘This is amazing good fun! Ship your oars. We must quant her in.’
‘There’s only one boathook,’ said O’Hara, ‘so I’ll use an oar as a quant-pole. Good thing we’ve been in before. Oh, no, I forgot. You haven’t, so I’ll give the orders. Go easy, now. We’re almost on to the rocks.’
The mad project of entering the cave in pitch darkness was safely accomplished. Once in, the cousins found themselves in a blackness so unrelieved—for the light at the further end had disappeared—that it was almost a necessity to glance back, as Gascoigne did once or twice, to the almost luminous sea at the mouth of the cave.
‘I’ll use my torch in spurts,’ said O’Hara. ‘That should help us a bit. We must trust to luck nobody sees it. There’s nobody here at present. We’re in luck.’
He switched on his torch and disclosed that they were far enough into the cave for the rocky path to be discerned above the water-line on the port side of their boat. Quanting the boat against the outrunning tide was heavy work, and they were glad to be able to tie up. This they did, to the rock pinnacle for which, for some time, O’Hara groped in vain.
‘Sure proof the cave’s what we think it is,’ murmured Gascoigne. ‘I wish I’d come in with you before. I’d no idea it had been such grand fun. How is she for depth, by the way?’
‘Very nearly aground. We couldn’t get in any further.’
‘Good enough.’ Gascoigne switched off the torch which he had placed on the ground to light the moorings, and put it back into his pocket. ‘Let’s listen a minute.’
But they could still hear nothing but the sound of the sea at the cave-mouth, and they thought it safe to use their torches again as they walked with great caution into the deep interior of the cave.
At last they found that they had penetrated beyond the tide-mark, and, as they began to ascend, there came to their nostrils the smell of petrol from the garage.
‘Off torches!’ whispered O’Hara. ‘We’re almost underneath them. Better take cover whilst we listen.’
He had already become aware of a suitable hiding-place. This had been unexpectedly provided. Since he, Mrs. Bradley and Laura had been inside the cave, three very tall packing-cases had been placed there. A man six feet high could easily take cover behind the smallest without being seen, even if he stood up on tiptoe.
‘Now I wonder what’s in them?’ muttered Gascoigne. ‘And I wonder how soon they’ll be shifted? Any minute now. I suppose—or are they smugglers depending on our boat?’
‘Shut up!’ whispered his cousin, whose sharper ears had caught a sound unconnected with the booming of the sea. ‘I think somebody’s coming down from the garage above. Stand ready!’
Whilst O’Hara and Gascoigne were proving their blood and mettle, Mrs. Bradley’s discreet but equally bold and mettlesome nephew, accompanied by George, Mrs. Bradley’s chauffeur, had come to Slepe Rock, but had failed to contact the Irishmen, who, by this time, were out in the borrowed rowing-boat.
Denis had left the car—to George’s mute regret—in a lane about a mile from the beach, and the two had come on foot to Slepe Rock. The hotel was in darkness, the inhabitants of the cottages asleep, and the road rough, stony and not at all easy to follow.
‘I can’t see how we get hold of these fellows,’ said Denis. ‘Anyhow, everything seems quiet. What do you suppose my aunt had in her mind?’
‘I don’t think anything definite, sir,’ replied George. ‘If, on the beach, we don’t contact the gentlemen, I should suppose it is up to us to formulate a plan of campaign.’
‘Yes, but who are the enemy, dash it? You can’t campaign without an enemy. Who are the party of the other part?’
‘It passes me to say, sir, but I have my suspicions of that pull-in for coaches a little further up, near the hotel. I take it that madam has told you of our geological expedition?’
‘The cave? Oh, yes. All right, then, George. Look here! Let’s go and break into the place, and see what we can discover. What do you say?’
‘Very good, sir,’ replied the sober man. ‘If I may say so, it would be an anti-traumatic act, and, as such, it would please me greatly.’
‘The war has altered our outlook, don’t you think, George?’ Denis enquired, amused and delighted by the man’s acceptance of the scheme.
‘Not so much altered it as enhanced it, sir, perhaps.’
‘You mean we’re all thugs at heart? It’s very likely, and seems an inspiring thought. Anyway, here we go. Have you any suggestions to offer before we muscle up?’
‘Yes, sir. I think perhaps the indirect method would be the most successful. I will go back to where we left the car, and there, with your permission, I can effect some trifling mishap to the engine. Nothing to hurt, sir, of course. Then we can put on a bold face, knock up the people at the little shack and ask for a garage hand to help us. Even if help is refused, we may get a look at the place. It is better than a direct storming of the beach-head, sir, I think.’
‘Right, George. You go and nobble the car, then, and I’ll have a look round on the beach for those two lads of Irishmen. I wonder where they’ve got to by this time? Might be anywhere. I’ve no idea what their plans were, if any.’
‘From an elementary knowledge of the Irish temperament, sir, I should be inclined to suppose that by this time they are in the thick of whatever is going on. Irishmen are not so much born to trouble, sir, as born to look for it, irrespective of whether the sparks fly upward or not.’
George went back to the car and Denis onward to the beach. Denis was both elated and satisfied ; elated with a sense of adventure all too seldom experienced since the war, and satisfied with the hiding-place which he and George had found for the iron box which had been pulled up out of the circle of standing stones.
The beach, at first glance, seemed deserted. Then he was aware of a groaning noise not very far to his right. He stepped on to the dirty shingle and began to explore. It might be one of the Irishmen in trouble, or it might be one of their victims, he reflected. In view of the groans, he was inclined to the latter view, and so went warily, not knowing whether he might be ambushed as he approached.
‘Where are you?’ he called. ‘Are you hurt?’
‘Boss, there was all five of ’em. Five on to one,’ groaned the voice. ‘And me not doing nothing but me plain duty, as anyone but suckers might know.’
‘Are you hurt?’ demanded Denis.
‘Boss, they’ve pretty near done for me, I reckon. I couldn’t ’elp it if the boat was took while I was laid out bleedin’ on the beach!’
‘Nonsense, man!’ said Denis vigorously. ‘Get up, and don’t be a fool!’
It did not surprise him to hear a scrabbling sound on the shingle, followed by the noise of heavy boots beneath whose impact the shingle began to shudder away.