ness came over the boys as they saw all this, and
realised that now they were, beside the captain and a man who kept going
in and out of a low, hutch-like place forward, the only occupants of the
vessel; and that if their captor had any particular designs upon them,
this would be the likely time for their happening. But they now had
proof that this was not going to be the case, for the Frenchman took no
further heed to them. He went to the cabin-hatch and descended, leaving
them with the deck to themselves.

"What do you think of it now?" asked Mike dolefully.

"I don't know," said Vince, gazing up at the towering rocks, dotted with
yellow ragwort and sea-pink, by which they were surrounded; "but it's a
change. I wouldn't care if they only knew at home about our being safe.
I say, isn't it likely that some one may come along the cliffs and be
searching for us, and then we can signal to him?"

"Who ever came along the cliffs and looked down here?" said Mike.
"We've been about as much as any one, but we never looked down into this
pool."

"No," said Vince thoughtfully: "it puzzles me. I hardly make out
whereabouts we are. I say, though, look forward: that's the galley, and
the chap we saw is the cook."

"Of course," said Mike; "there's the chimney, and the smoke coming out."

"Let's go and see what there is for dinner."

Mike's forehead wrinkled up, and he felt disposed to say something
reproachful; but he was silent, and followed his companion to the galley
door, where the man they had seen looked up at them grimly, and as if
resenting their presence.

"What's for dinner, old chap?" said Vince coolly.

The sour look on the man's face passed away. Vince's countenance, and
his free-and-easy way, seemed to find favour, and he said gruffly,--

"Lobscouse."

"What, for the skipper?" said Vince, who had a lively memory of the
captain's breakfast.

"Men," said the man laconically.

"And for the skipper?"

The man smiled grimly, and took the lid off a pot, which arose an
agreeable steam, that was appetising and suggested good soup. Then,
without a word, he pointed to a dish upon which lay a pair of thick
soles, and to another, on which, ready egged and crumbed, were about a
dozen neatly prepared veal cutlets.

"Got any potatoes," said Vince.

The man raised a lid and showed the familiar vegetable, bubbling away on
the little stove, which was roaring loudly, and put the saucepan down
again.

"Well, w