It seems cold here away from the open daylight, even though they are only a few feet inside the cave’s rim. A constant drip, drip, comes from the darkness behind them. Gasps and moans echo from deep within the hollow mountain too. “We should move farther away,” says George. The Happy Adventure and its sister ships are still close enough for George and Jemma to hear the sails crack in the rising wind. Despite the climb and the tramp across the marshes they haven’t come very far. Jemma is concentrating, holding the baby next to her breast and bowing her head close. He is sucking the milk from her finger. She speaks softly as though to the baby. “No. This is our defence. They will not look for us anywhere so close. If we leave again, we’ll lose our hiding place. Here we can rest and leave no clues. If we run we’ll be exhausted and they will catch us.” George turns and considers the dark honeycomb of the cave. Moans and low singing emanate from a mile within, it seems. This suggests long stretches of corridors and crags in which they may hide.
