"No," said he, "I don't think that, at all.

The distance we came up didn't seem half as far as the distance we went down; an' you'll notice there ain't any outside entrance to this cavern whatever.

It's a reg'lar dome over this pool o' water, and unless there's some passage at the back, up yonder, we're fast pris'ners." Trot looked thoughtfully over her shoulder.
"When we're rested," she said, "we will crawl up there and see if there's a way to get out." Cap'n Bill reached in the pocket of his oilskin coat and took out his pipe.

It was still dry, for he kept it in an oilskin pouch with his tobacco.

His matches were in a tight tin box, so in a few moments the old sailor was smoking contentedly.