Cutlass and Cudgel
by George Manville Fenn · English · Gutenberg #21297 · 510,333 chars · public domain (US)
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Title: Cutlass and Cudgel
Author: George Manville Fenn
Illustrator: John Schönberg
Release date: May 4, 2007 [eBook #21297]
Language: English
Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/21297
Credits: Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CUTLASS AND CUDGEL ***
Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England
Cutlass and Cudgel, by George Manville Fenn.
________________________________________________________________________
In some ways this book is reminiscent of "The Lost Middy", by the same
author, but I suppose that with a similar theme, a nosey midshipman
taken prisoner by a gang of smugglers, there are bound to be other
points of similarity. Anyway, it is a good fast-moving story, with
lots of well-drawn human interest.
It starts off with a comic scene, where the Excise patrol vessel is
cruising near an area suspected of being heavily involved with
smuggling. Suddenly a large object is seen swimming in the water, and it
turns out to be a cow. Then there's all the business of milking the cow
on the deck of a sailing-vessel. Pretty soon, however it gets serious,
and we meet various characters living nearby. Soon the inquisitive
midshipman is taken prisoner, and it falls to another teenager, the son
of one of the chief rogues, to bring him food. Both boys become
friendly with each other, but the midshipman can only express it by
appearing to hate the farm-fisher boy, whom he considers to be socially
far beneath him. The farm-boy tries so hard to be kind to the
midshipman, who is so rude in return.
Eventually the midshipman escapes, the smugglers are caught, and the
farm-boy becomes a seaman on the Excise vessel.
NH
_______________________________________________________________________
CUTLASS AND CUDGEL, BY GEORGE MANVILLE FENN.
CHAPTER ONE.
"Heigh-Ho-Ha-Hum! Oh dear me!"
"What's matter, sir?"
"Matter, Dirty Dick? Nothing; only, heigh-ho-ha! Oh dear me, how
sleepy I am!"
"Well, sir, I wouldn't open my mouth like that 'ere, 'fore the sun's
up."
"Why not?"
"No knowing what you might swallow off this here nasty, cold, foggy,
stony coast."
"There you go again, Dick; not so good as Lincolnshire coast, I
suppose?"
"As good, sir? Why, how can it be?" said the broad, sturdy sailor
addressed. "Nothin' but great high stony rocks, full o' beds of great
flat periwinkles and whelks; nowhere to land, nothin' to see. I am
surprised at you, sir. Why, there arn't a morsel o' sand."
"For not praising your nasty old flat sandy shore, with its marsh
beyond, and its ague and bogs and fens."
"Wish I was 'mong 'em now, sir. Wild ducks there, as is fit to eat, not
iley fishy things like these here."
"Oh, bother! Wish I could have had another hour or two's sleep. I say,
Dirty Dick, are you sure the watch wasn't called too soon?"
"Nay, sir, not a bit; and, beggin' your pardon, sir, if you wouldn't
mind easin' off the Dirty--Dick's much easier to say."
"Oh, very well, Dick. Don't be so thin-skinned about a nickname."
"That's it, sir. I arn't a bit thin-skinned. Why, my skin's as thick
as one of our beasts. I can't help it lookin' brown. Washes myself
deal more than some o' my mates as calls me dirty. Strange and curious
how a name o' that kind sticks."
"Oh, I say, don't talk so," said the lad by the rough sailor's side; and
after another yawn he began to stride up and down the deck of His
Majesty's cutter _White Hawk_, lying about a mile from the Freestone
coast of Wessex.
It was soon after daybreak, the sea was perfectly calm and a thick grey
mist hung around, making the deck and cordage wet and the air chilly,
while the coast, with its vast walls of perpendicular rocks, looked
weird and distant where a peep could be obtained amongst the wreaths of
vapour.
"Don't know when I felt so hungry," muttered the lad, as he thrust his
hands into his breeches pockets, and stopped near the sailor, who smiled
in the lad's frank-looking, handsome face.
"Ah, you always were a one to yeat, sir, ever since you first came
aboard."
"You're a noodle, Dick. Who wouldn't be hungry, fetched out of his cot
at this time of the morning to take the watch. Hang the watch! Bother
the watch! Go and get me a biscuit, Dick, there's a good fellow."
The sailor showed his white teeth, and took out a brass box.
"Can't get no biscuit yet, sir. Have a bit o' this. Keeps off the
gnawin's wonderful."
"Yah! Who's going to chew tobacco!" cried the lad with a look of
disgust, as he buttoned up his uniform jacket. "Oh, hang it all, I wish
the sun would come out!"
"Won't be long, sir; and then all this sea-haar will go."
"Why don't you say mist?" cried the lad contemptuously.
"'Acause it's sea-haar, and you can't make nowt else on it, sir!"
"They haven't seen anything of them in the night, I suppose?"
"No, sir; nowt. It scars me sometimes, the way they dodges us, and gets
away. Don't think theer's anything queer about 'em, do you?"
"Queer? Yes, of course. They're smugglers, and as artful as can be."
"Nay, sir, bad, I mean--you know, sir."
"No, I don't, Dick," cried the young officer pettishly. "How can I
know? Speak out."
"Nay, I wean't say a word, sir; I don't want to get more scarred than I
am sometimes now."
"Get out! What do you mean? That old Bogey helps them to run their
cargoes?"
"Nay, sir, I wean't say a word. It's all werry well for you to laugh,
now it's daylight, and the sun coming out. It's when it's all black as
pitch, as it takes howd on you worst."
"You're a great baby, Dick," cried the midshipman, as he went to the
side of the cutter and looked over the low bulwark toward the east.
"Hah! Here comes the sun."
His eyes brightened as he welcomed the coming of the bright orb,
invisible yet from where he stood; but the cold grey mist that hung
around was becoming here and there, in patches, shot with a soft
delicious rosy hue, which made the grey around turn opalescent rapidly,
beginning to flash out pale yellow, which, as the middy watched,
deepened into orange and gold.
"Lovely!" he said aloud, as he forgot in the glory of the scene the
discomfort he had felt.
"Tidy, sir, pooty tidy," said the sailor, who had come slowly up to
where he stood. "And you should see the morning come over our coast,
sir. Call this lovely? Why, if you'd sin the sun rise there, it would
mak' you stand on your head."
"Rather see this on my feet, Dick," cried the lad. "Look at that!
Hurrah! Up she comes!"
Up "she"--otherwise the sun--did come, rolling slowly above the
mist-covered sea, red, swollen, huge, and sending blood-tinted rays
through and through the haze to glorify the hull, sails, and rigging of
the smart cutter, and make the faces of the man at the helm and the
other watchers glow as with new health.
The effect was magical. Just before all was cold and grey, and the
clinging mist sent a shiver through those on deck; now, their eyes
brightened with pleasure, as the very sight of the glowing orb seemed to
have a warming--as it certainly had an enlivening--effect.
The great wreaths of mist yielded rapidly as the sun rose higher, the
rays shooting through and through, making clear roads which flashed with
light, and, as the clouds rolled away like the grey smoke of the sun's
fire, the distant cliffs, which towered up steep and straight, like some
titanic wall, came peering out now in patches bright with green and
golden grey.
Archibald Raystoke--midshipman aboard His Majesty the king's cutter,
stationed off the Freestone coast, to put a stop to the doings of a
smuggler whose career the Government had thought it high time to
notice--drew in a long breath, and forgot all about hunger and cold in
the promise of a glorious day.
It was impossible to think of such trifling things in the full burst of
so much beauty, for, as the sun rose higher, the sea, which had been
blood-red and golden, began to turn of a vivid blue deeper than the
clear sky overhead; the mist wreaths grew thinner and more transparent,
and the pearly glistening foam, which followed the breaking of each wave
at the foot of the mighty cliffs, added fresh beauty to the glorious
scene.
"Look here, Dirty Dick," began the middy, who burst out into a hearty
fit of laughter as he saw the broad-shouldered sailor give his face a
rub with the back of his hands, and look at them one after the other.
"Does it come off, Dick?" he said.
"Nay, sir; nothin' comes off," said the man dolefully. "'Tis my natur
too, but it seems werry hard to be called dirty, when you arn't."
"There, I beg pardon, Dick, and I will not call you so any more."
"Thankye, sir; I s'pose you mean it, but you'll let it out again soon as
you forget."
"No, I will not, Dick. But, I say, look here: you are a cheat, though,
are you not?"
"Me, sir? No!" cried the man excitedly.
"I mean about the Lincolnshire coast. Confess it isn't half so
beautiful as this."
"Oh, yes it is, sir. It's so much flatter. Why, you can't hardly find
a place to land here, without getting your boat stove in."
"If all's true, the smugglers know how to land things," said Archibald,
as he gazed thoughtfully at the cliffs.
"Oh, them! O' course, sir, they can go up the cliffs, and over 'em like
flies in sugar basins. They get a spar over the edge, with a reg'lar
pulley, and lets down over the boats, and then up the kegs and bales
comes."
"Ah, well, we must catch them at it some day, Dick, and then there'll be
lots o' prize-money for you all."
"And for you too, sir; officers comes first. But we arn't got the prize
yet, and it's my belief as we shan't get it."
"Why?"
"Because it seems to me as there's something not all right about these
here craft."
"Of course there is, they are smugglers."
"Yes, sir, and worse too. If they was all right, we shouldn't ha' been
cruising 'bout here seven weeks, and never got a sight o' one of 'em,
when we know they've been here all the time."
"I don't understand you, Dick," said the middy, as he watched the going
and coming of the rock pigeons which flew straight for the cliff, seemed
to pass right in, and then dashed out.
"Well, sir, I can't explain it. Them there's things as you can't
explain, nor nobody else can't."
He wrinkled up his face and shook his head, as if there were a great
deal more behind.
"Now, what are you talking about, Dick?" cried the lad. "You don't mean
that the smuggler's a sort of ghost, and his lugger's all fancy?"
"Well, not exactly, sir, because if they was, they couldn't carry real
cargoes, which wouldn't be like the smuggler and his lugger, sir, and,
of course, then the kegs and lace wouldn't be no good. But there's a
bit something wrong about these here people, and all the men thinks so
too."
"More shame for them!" said the middy quickly. "Hi! Look there, Dick;
what's that?"
He seized the sailor by the shoulder, and pointed where, some five
hundred yards away, close under the cliff, but on the rise of the line
of breakers, there was something swimming slowly along.
Dick shaded his eyes, for no reason whatever, the sun being at his back,
and gazed at the object in the water.
"'Tarnt a porpus," he said thoughtfully.
"As if I didn't know that," cried the lad; and, running aft, he
descended into the cabin, and returned with a glass, which he focussed
and gazed through at the object rising steadily and falling with the
heave of the sea.
"See her, sir?"
"Yes," answered the middy, with his glass at his eye. "It's a bullock
or a cow."
"Werry like, sir. There is sea-cows, I've heared."
"Oh, but this isn't one of them. I believe it's a real cow, Dick."
"Not she, sir. Real cows lives in Lincolnshire, and feeds on grass. I
never see 'em go in the sea, only halfway up their legs in ponds, and
stand a-waggin' their tails to keep off the flies. This here's a
sea-cow, sir, sartin."
"It's a cow, Dick; and it has tumbled off the cliff, and is swimming for
its life," said the lad, closing the glass.
The sailor chuckled.
"What are you laughing at?"
"At you, sir, beggin' your pardon. But you don't think as how a cow
would be such a fool as to tumble off a cliff. Humans might, but cows
is too cunning."
"I don't believe you would be," cried the lad smartly. "Put you up
there in such a fog as we've had, and where would you be?"
"Fast asleep in the first snug corner I could find," said the sailor, as
the midshipman ran aft, and descended into the cabin, to go to the end
and tap on a door.
There was no answer, and he tapped again.
"Hullo!"
"Beg pardon, sir," began the midshipman.
"Granted! Be off, and don't bother me again."
There was a rustling sound, and a deep-toned breathing, that some rude
people would have called a snore. The midshipman looked puzzled,
hesitated, and then knocked again.
There came a smothered roar, like that of an angry beast.
"Beg pardon, sir."
"Who's that?"
"Raystoke, sir."
"What do you want? Am I never to have a night's rest again?"
All this in smothered tones, as if the speaker was shut up in a cupboard
with a blanket over his head.
"Wouldn't have troubled you, sir, but--"
"Smugglers in sight?"
"No, sir; it's a cow."
"A what?"
"Cow, sir, overboard."
"Quite right. Milk and water," came in muffled tones.
"Beg pardon, sir, what shall I do?"
"Go and milk her, and don't bother me."
"But she's swimming under the cliff, sir."
"Go and ask her on board, then. Be off!"
Archy Raystoke knew his commanding officer's ways, and after waiting a
few moments, he said softly, after giving a tap or two on the panel--
"Shall I take the boat and get her aboard?"
There was a loud rustle; a bang as if some one had struck the bulkhead
with his elbow, and then a voice roared--
"Look here, sir, if you don't be off and let me finish my sleep, I'll
let go at you through the door. You're in charge of the deck. Go and
do what's right, and don't bother me."
_Bang_!
Another blow on the bulkhead, and rustling noise, and, as well as if he
had seen it all, Archy knew that his officer had snuggled down under the
clothes, and gone to sleep.
But he had the permission, and calling to a couple of the crew, he soon
had the small boat in the water, with Dick and another man pulling
towards where the cow was slowly swimming here and there, with its wet
nose and two horns a very short distance above the surface.
"Now, then, Dick, is it a sea-cow?" cried Archy, as they drew nearer.
"Well, sir, what else can it be?"
"Ah, you obstinate!" cried the lad. "Now, then, what are we going to
do? We can't land her," he continued, looking up at the towering cliff,
"and, of course, we can't take her in the boat."
"I'll soon manage that," said Dick, leaving his rowing to take up a coil
of rope he had thrown into the boat, and make a running noose.
"Yes, but--"
"It's all right, sir. Get this over her horns, and we can tow her
alongside, and hyste her on deck in no time."
The cow proved that she was accustomed to man, for, as the boat
approached, she swam slowly to meet it, raising her nose a little to
utter a loud bellow, as if glad to welcome the help. So quiet and
gentle was the poor creature, that there was no difficulty in passing
the noose over her horns, making the line fast to a ring-bolt, so as to
keep her head well above the surface, and then Dick resumed his oar; and
after a glance round to make sure that there was no place where the poor
beast could be landed, Archie gave the order for them to row back to
where the cutter lay in the bright sunshine, five hundred yards from the
shore.
He looked in vain, for at the lowest part the green edge of the cliff
was a couple of hundred feet above the level of the sea, and right and
left of him the mighty walls of rock rose up, four, five, and even six
hundred feet, and for the most part with a sheer descent to the water
which washed their feet.
The cow took to her journey very kindly, helping the progress by
swimming till they were alongside the cutter, where the men on deck were
looking over the low side, and grinning with amusement.
"Pull her horns off, sir!" said Dick, in answer to a question, as he
proceeded to pass the rope through a block, "not it."
"But hadn't we better have a line round her?"
"If you want to cut her 'most in two, sir. We'll soon have her on
board."
Dick was as good as his word, for the task was easy with a vessel so low
in the water as the cutter; and in a few minutes the unfortunate cow was
standing dripping on deck.
CHAPTER TWO.
"Can any one of you men milk?" said Lieutenant Brough, a little
plump-looking man, of about five and thirty, as he stood in naval
uniform staring at the new addition to His Majesty's cutter _White
Hawk_, a well-fed dun cow, which stood steadily swinging her long tail
to and fro, where she was tethered to the bulwarks, after vainly trying
to make a meal off the well holystoned deck.
There was no reply, the men grinning one at the other, on hearing so
novel a question. "Do you men mean to say that not one amongst you can
milk?" cried the lieutenant.
No one had spoken; but now, in a half-shrinking foolish way, Dick pulled
his forelock, and made a kick out behind.
"You can?" cried the lieutenant, "that's right; get a bucket and milk
her. I'll have some for breakfast."
"Didn't say as I could milk, sir," said Dick. "Seen 'em milk, though,
down in Linkyshire, and know how it's done."
"Then, of course, you can do it," said the lieutenant shortly; "look
sharp!"
The men grinned, and Dirty Dick by no means looked sharp, but
exceedingly blunt and foolish as he shuffled along the deck, provided
himself with a bucket, and then approached the cow, which had suddenly
began chewing the cud.
"Look at her, mate," said one of the sailors.
"What for?" said the man addressed.
"Some one's been giving her a quid o' bacca."
"Go on."
"But some one has. Look at her chewing."
"Why, so she is!" said the sailor, scratching his head, as he watched
the regular actions of the cow's jaw, as she stood blinking her eyes,
and swinging her tail to and fro, apparently quite content; the more so,
that the sun was shining upon her warmly, and the sea water rapidly
quitting her skin for the deck, where it made a rivulet into one of the
scuppers.
Jack the sailor is easily pleased, for the simple reason that anything
is a relief from the tedium of life on ship-board; consequently the
coming of the cow was like a half-holiday to them at the wrong end of
the day, and they stood about nudging each other, as Dirty Dick trotted
up with his bucket, Archy looking on as much amused as the men.
The cow blinked her eyes, and turned her head to smell at the bucket
which Dick set down on the deck, and stood scratching his head.
"Well, sir, go on," said the lieutenant--"Seems to me, now, Mr
Raystoke, that we ought to have cream and fresh butter. Capital prize
you've taken.--Do you hear, sir? Go on."
"Yes, sir. Beg pardon, sir, but you see I wants something to sit on.
'Nother bucket."
"You, sir, fetch another bucket," said the lieutenant sharply; and
another was brought, turned upside down, and, taking the first bucket,
amidst the titterings of the men, Dick seated himself, leaned his head
against the cow's side, placed the vessel between his legs, and began to
operate in true dairyman style upon the cow.
_Whack_! _Bang_! _Clatter_!
There was a tremendous roar of laughter from every one on board except
from Dirty Dick, who was down on his back a couple of yards away,
staring at the cow as if wondering how she could have gone off as she
did. For the quiet-looking, inoffensive beast was standing perfectly
still again, blinking her eyes and chewing her cud, but writhing and
twisting her tail about as if it were an eel, after, at Dick's first
touch, raising one of her hind legs and sending the pail flying across
the deck and the would-be milker backwards.
"Come, come," said the lieutenant, wiping his eyes and trying to look
very important and stern, "that's not the right way, my man. Try
again."
Dick rose unwillingly, planted the upturned bucket once more in its
place, and took the milking bucket from one of the men who had picked it
up. Then, sitting down again rather nervously, he once more placed the
vessel between his legs, stuck his head against the cow's side, and
prepared to milk.
_Whack_!
The bucket flew along the deck again, and Dick bounded away, saving
himself from falling this time as he was prepared, and made a sudden
leap backwards to stand wiping the perspiration from his forehead.
There was another roar of laughter, and the lieutenant bade Dick try
again.
The man gave his officer an appealing look which seemed to say, "Tell me
to board the enemy, sir, and I'll go, but don't ask me to do this."
"Come; be smart!"
Dick turned, glanced wistfully at Archy, shaking his head at him
reproachfully, sighed, and, taking the bucket again, he looked into it
with his rugged brown face full of despair.
"It's quite empty, Dick," said the middy, laughing.
"Yes, sir; there's nowt in it, and," he added to himself, "not like to
be."
Again he settled himself into his place in as businesslike a way as a
farm lad would who was accustomed to the cow-shed, but the moment he
began the cow gave her tail a swing, lifted her leg, and planted it in
the bucket, holding it down on the deck.
"Pail's full," cried Archy; and the men yelled with delight, their
officer vainly trying to control his own mirth as Dick began to pat and
apostrophise the cow.
"Coom, coom! Coosh, cow, then," he said soothingly. "Tak' thy leg oot
o' the boocket, my bairn;" and to the astonishment of all present the
cow lifted her leg and set it down again on deck.
"Well done, my lad," cried the lieutenant. "Now, then, look sharp with
the milk."
Dick sighed, wiped his hands down the sides of his breeches, and began
once more, but at the first touch of the big strong hands accustomed to
handle capstan-bars and haul ropes, the cow gave a more vigorous kick
than ever; away flew the bucket, and over went Dick on his back.
He sprung up angrily now in the midst of the laughter, and touched his
forehead to his commanding officer.
"It arn't no good, sir; she's a beef cow, and not a milker."
"You don't know your business, my lad," said the lieutenant.
"But she's such a savage one, sir. Don't go anigh her, sir."
"Nonsense!" said the lieutenant, going up to the cow, patting her and
handling her ears and horns; to all of which attentions the animal
submitted calmly enough, blinking her eyes, and gently swinging her
tail.
"I think I could milk her, sir," said Archy.
"Think so, Raystoke?" said the lieutenant. "I was just thinking I
should have liked some new milk."
"So was I, sir. Shall I try?"
"Yes," said the lieutenant. "I believe I could do it myself. It always
looks so easy. But no; won't do," he said firmly, as he drew himself up
and tried to look stern and tall and big, an impossibility with a man of
five feet two inches in height, and whose physique had always been
against his advance in the profession. For as a short energetic little
man he might have gained promotion; as a little fat rosy fellow the
Lords of the Admiralty thought not; and so, after endless
disappointments regarding better things, he had been appointed commander
of the little _White Hawk_, and sent to cruise off the south coast and
about the Channel, to catch the smugglers who were always too clever to
be caught.
"No," he said shortly, as he drew himself up; "won't do, Raystoke,
though you and I are condemned to live in this miserable little cutter,
and on a contemptible kind of duty, we must not forget that we are
officers and gentlemen in His Majesty's service. Milking cows won't do.
No; we must draw the line at milking cows. But I should have liked a
drop for my breakfast."
"Ahoy!" cried one of the men loudly.
"Ahoy yourself!" cried a voice from off the sea on the shore side, and
all turned to see a boat approaching rowed by a rough-looking fisherman,
and with a lad of about sixteen sitting astern, who now rose up to
answer the man who shouted.
"Where did he come from?" said the lieutenant. "Anybody see him put
off?"
"No, sir! No, sir!" came from all directions; and the lieutenant raised
his glass to sweep the coast.
"What do you want?" cried the man at the side as the boat came on, and
the lieutenant bade the man ask.
"Want?" shouted the lad, a sturdy-looking fellow with keen grey eyes and
fair close curly hair all about his sunburned forehead. "I've come
after our cow!"
CHAPTER THREE.
"How do, Sir Risdon?"
The speaker was a curious-looking man of fifty, rough, sunburned, and
evidently as keen as a well-worn knife. He was dressed like a farmer
who had taken to fishing or like a fisherman who had taken to farming,
and his nautical appearance seemed strange to a man who was leading a
very meditative grey horse attached to a heavy cart, made more weighty
by the greatcoat of caked mud the vehicle wore.
He had been leading the horse along what was called in Freestone a road,
though its only pretensions to being a road was that it led from
Shackle's farm to the fields which bordered the cliff, and consisted of
two deep channels made by the farm tumbril wheels, and a shallow track
formed by horses' hoofs, the said channels being more often full of
water than of mud, and boasting the quality of never even in the hottest
weather being dry.
The person Blenheim Shackle--farmer and fisher, in his canvas sailor's
breeches, big boots, striped shirt, and red tassel cap--had accosted,
was a tall, thin, aristocratic-looking gentleman, in a broad-skirted,
shabby brown velvet coat, who was daintily picking his way, cane in
hand, over the soft turf of the field, evidently deep in thought, but
sufficiently awake to what was around to make him stoop from time to
time to pick up a glistening white-topped mushroom, and transfer it to
one of his pockets with a satisfied smile.
"Ah, Master Shackle," he said, starting slightly on being addressed.
"Well, thank you. A lovely morning, indeed."
"Ay, the morning's right enough, Sir Risdon. Picking a few mushrooms,
sir?"
"I--er--yes, Master Shackle. I have picked a few," said the tall thin
gentleman, colouring slightly. "I--beg your pardon, Master Shackle, for
doing so. I ought to have asked your leave."
"Bah! Not a bit," said the fisher-farmer, with a chuckle. "You're
welcome, squire."
"I thank you, Master Shackle--I thank you warmly. You see her ladyship
is very fond of the taste of a fresh gathered mushroom, and if I see a
few I like to take them to the Hoze."
"Ay, to be sure," said Shackle, as he thought to himself "And precious
glad to get them, you two poor half-starved creatures, with your show
and sham, and titles and keep up appearances."
"I--er--I have not got many, Master Shackle. Would you like to see?"
continued the tall thin gentleman, raising the flap of one of his
salt-box pockets.
"I don't want to see," growled the other, as he stood patting the neck
of his old grey horse. "Been to the cliff edge?"
"I--yes, Master Shackle."
"See the cutter?"
"I think I saw a small vessel lying some distance off, with white
sails."
"That's the _White Hawk_, Luff Brough. And I wanted to speak to you,
Sir Risdon."
The gentleman started.
"Not about--about that--" he stammered.
"Tchah! Yes. It was about that, man," said the other. "Don't shy at
it like a horse at a blue bogey in a windy lane."
"But I told you, man, last time, that I would have no more to do with
that wretched smuggling."
"Don't call things by ugly names."
"My good man, it is terrible. It is dishonourable, and the act is a
breaking of the laws of our country."
"Tchah! Not it, Sir Risdon," cried the other so sharply, that the grey
horse started forward, and had to be checked. "Not the king's laws, but
the laws of that Dutchman who has come and stuck himself on the throne.
Why, sir, you ought to take a pleasure in breaking his laws, after the
way he has robbed you, and turned you from a real gentleman, into a
poor, hard-pressed country squire, who--"
"Hush! Hush, Master Shackle!" said the tall gentleman huskily. "Don't
rake up my misfortunes."
"Not I, Sir Risdon. I'm full o' sorrow and respect for a noble
gentleman, who has suffered for the cause of the real king, who, when he
comes, will set us all right."
"Ah, Master Shackle, I'm losing heart."
"Nay, don't do that, Sir Risdon; and as to a few mushrooms, why, you're
welcome enough; and I'd often be sending a chicken or a few eggs, or a
kit o' butter, or drop o' milk, all to the Hoze, only we're feared her
ladyship might think it rude."
"It's--it's very good of you, Master Shackle, and I shall never be able
to repay you."
"Tchah! Who wants repaying, Sir Risdon? We have plenty at the farm,
and it was on'y day 'fore yes'day as I was out in my little lugger, and
we'd took a lot o' mackrel! `Ram,' I says to my boy Ramillies, `think
Sir Risdon would mind if I sent him a few fish up to the Hoze?'
"`Ay, father,' he says, `they don't want us to send them fish. My
lady's too proud!'"
Sir Risdon sighed, and the man watched him narrowly.
"It's a pity too," the latter continued, "specially as we often have so
much fish we puts it on the land."
"Er--if you would be good enough to send a little fish--of course very
fresh, Master Shackle, and a few eggs, and a little butter to the Hoze,
and let me have your bill by and by, I should be gratified."
"On'y too glad, Sir Risdon, I will.--Think any one's been telling
tales?"
"Tales?"
"'Bout us, Sir Risdon."
"About _us_!"
"You see the revenue cutter's hanging about here a deal, and it looks
bad."
"Surely no one would betray you, Master Shackle?"
"Hope not, Sir Risdon; but it's okkard. There's a three-masted lugger
coming over from Ushant, and she may be in to-night. There's some nice
thick fogs about now, and it's a quiet sea. Your cellars are quite
empty, I s'pose?"
The last remark came so quickly, that the hearer started, and made no
reply.
"You see, Sir Risdon, we might run the cargo, and stow it all up at my
place, for we've plenty o' room; but if they got an idea of it aboard
the cutter, she'd land some men somehow, and come and search me, but
they wouldn't dare to come and search you. I've got a bad character,
but you haven't."
"No, no, Master Shackle; I cannot; I will not."
"The lads could run it up the valley, and down into your cellar, Sir
Risdon," whispered the man, as if afraid that the old grey horse would
hear; "nobody would be a bit the wiser, and you'd be doing a neighbour a
good turn."
"I--I cannot, Master Shackle; it is against the law."
"Dutchman's law, not the laws of Bonnie Prince Charlie. You will, Sir
Risdon?"
"No--no, I dare not."
"And it gives a neighbour a chance to beg your acceptance of a little
drop o' real cognac, Sir Risdon--so good in case o' sickness. And a bit
of prime tay, such as would please her ladyship. Then think how
pleasant a pipe is, Sir Risdon; I've got a bit o' lovely tobacco at my
place, and a length or two of French silk."
"Master Shackle! Master Shackle!" cried the tall thin baronet
piteously, "how can you tempt a poor suffering gentleman like this?"
"Because I want to do you a bit of good, Sir Risdon, and myself too. I
tell you it's safe enough. You've only to leave your side door open,
and go to bed; that's all."
"But I shall be as guilty as you."
"Guilty?" the man laughed. "I never could see a bit o' harm in doing
what I do. Never feel shamed to look my boy Ramillies in the face. If
a bit o' smuggling was wrong, Sir Risdon, think I'd do it? No, sir; I
think o' them as was before me. My father was in Marlborough's wars,
and he called me Blenheim, in honour of the battle he was in; and I
called my boy Ramillies, and if ever he gets married, and has a son,
he's to be Malplackey. I arn't ashamed to look him in the face."
"But I shall be afraid to look in the face of my dear child."
"Mistress Denise, Sir Risdon? Tchah! Bless her! I don' believe she'd
like her father to miss getting a lot of things that would be good for
him, and your madam. There, Sir Risdon; don't say another word about
it. Leave the door open, and go to bed. You shan't hear anybody come
or go away, and you're not obliged to look in the cellars for a few
days."
"But, my child--the old servant--suppose they hear?"
"What? The rats? Tell 'em to take no notice, Sir Risdon. Good day,
Sir Risdon. That's settled, then?"
"Ye-es--I suppose so. This once only, Master Shackle."
"Thank ye, Sir Risdon," said the man. "Jee, Dutchman!"
The horse tugged at the tumbril, and Sir Risdon went thoughtfully along
the field, toward a clump of trees lying in a hollow, while Master
Shackle went on chuckling to himself.
"Couldn't say me nay, poor fellow. Half-starved they are sometimes.
Wonder he don't give up the old place, and go away. Hope he won't.
Them cellars are too vallyble. Hallo! What now?"
This to the fair curly-headed lad, who came trotting up across the short
turf.
"Been looking at the cutter, father?"
"Oh, she don't want no looking at. Who brought those cows down here?"
"Jemmy Dadd."
"He's a fool. We shall be having some of 'em going over the cliff. Go
home and tell mother to put a clean napkin in a basket, and take two
rolls of butter, a bit of honey, and a couple of chickens up to the
Hoze."
"Yes, father."
"And see if there's any eggs to take too."
"Yes, father. But--"
"Well?"
"Think the lugger will come to-night?"
"No, I don't think anything, and don't you. Will you keep that rattle
tongue of yours quiet? Never know me go chattering about luggers, do
you?"
"No, father."
"Then set your teeth hard, or you'll never be a man worth your salt.
Want to grow into a Jemmy Dadd?"
"No, father."
"Then be off."
The boy went off at a run, and the fisher-farmer led his horse along the
two rutted tracks till he came down into the valley, and then went on
and on, towards where a couple of men were at work in a field, doing
nothing with all their might.
CHAPTER FOUR.
Ramillies--commonly known by his father's men as Ram--Shackle trotted up
over the hill, stopping once to flop down on the grass to gaze at the
cutter, lying a mile out now from the shore, and thinking how different
she was with her trim rigging and white sails to the rough lugger of his
father, and the dirty three-masted vessels that ran to and fro across
the Channel, and upon which he had more than once taken a trip.
He rose with a sigh, and continued his journey down into the hollow, and
along a regular trough among the hills, to the low, white-washed stone
building, roofed with thin pieces of the same material, and gaily dotted
and splashed with lichen and moss.
He was met by a comfortable-looking, ruddy-faced woman, who
shouted,--"What is it, Ram?" when he was fifty yards away.
The boy stated his errand.
"Father says you were to take all that?"
"Yes."
"Then there's a cargo coming ashore to-night, Ram."
"Yes, mother, and the cutter's lying a mile out."
"Oh, dear, dear, dear!" cried the woman; "I hope there won't be no
trouble, boy."
She stood wiping her dry hands upon her apron, and gazed thoughtfully
with wrinkled brow straight before her for a minute, as if conjuring up
old scenes; then, taking down a basket as she moved inside, she began to
pack up the various things in the dairy, while Ram looked on.
"Father didn't say anything about a bottle of cream, mother," said the
boy, grinning.
"Then hear, see, and say nothing, my lad," cried his mother.
"And I don't think he said you was to send that piece of pickled pork,
mother."
"He said chickens, didn't he?"
"Said a chickun."
"Chicken means chickens," cried Mrs Shackle, "and you can't eat chicken
without pork or bacon. 'Tisn't natural."
"Father said two rolls of butter."
"Yes, and I've put three. There, these are all the eggs I've got, and
you mind you don't break 'em!"
"Oh, I say, mother," cried Ram, "aren't it heavy!"
"Nonsense! I could carry it on my finger; there, run along like a good
boy, and you must ask for her ladyship, and be very respectful, and say,
Mother's humble duty to you, my lady, and hopes you won't mind her
sending a bit o' farm fare."
"But she ought to be thankful to us, mother?"
"And so she will be, Ram?"
"But you make me speak as though we were to be much obliged to her for
taking all these good things."
"You take the basket, and hold your tongue. Father's right, you chatter
a deal too much."
Ram took the basket, grunted because it was so heavy, and then set off
up the hill-slope towards where the patch of thick woodland capped one
side of the deep valley, and at last came in sight of a grim-looking
stone house, with its windows for the most part covered by their
drawn-down blinds. Under other circumstances, with fairly kept gardens
and trim borders, the old-fashioned building, dating from the days of
Henry the Seventh, would have been attractive enough, with its
background of trees, and fine view along the valley out to the
far-stretching blue sea; but poverty seemed to have set its mark upon
the place, and the boy was so impressed by the gloomy aspect of the
house, that he ceased whistling as he went across the front, outside the
low wall, and round to the back, where his progress was stopped by the
scampering of feet, and a dog came up, barking loudly.
"Get out, or I'll jump on you--d'ye hear?" said Ram fiercely.
"Down, Grip, down!" cried a pleasant voice, and a girl of fifteen came
running out, looking bright and animated with her flushed cheeks and
long hair.
"Don't be afraid of him, Ram; he will not bite."
"I'm not afraid of him, Miss Celia; if he'd tried to bite me, I'd have
kicked him into the back-garden."
"You would not dare to," cried the girl indignantly.
"Oh yes, I would," said Ram, showing his white teeth. "Wouldn't do for
me to be 'fraid of no dogs."
The girl half turned away, but her eye caught the basket.
"What's that you came to sell?" she said.
"Sell? I don't come to sell. Father and mother sent this here. It's
butter, and chickuns, and pork, and cream, and eggs."
"Oh!" cried the girl joyously, "my mother will be so--"
She stopped short, remembering sundry lessons she had received, and the
tears came up into her eyes as she felt that she must be proud and not
show her delight at the receipt of homely delicacies to which they were
strangers.
"Take your basket to the side door, and deliver your message to Keziah,"
she said distantly.
"Yes, miss," said Ram, beginning to whistle, as he strode along with his
basket, but he turned back directly and followed the girl.
"I say, Miss Celia," he cried.
"Yes, Ram."
"You like Grip, don't you?"
"Yes, of course."
"Then I won't never kick him, miss. Only I arn't fond on him. Here,
mate," he continued, dropping on one knee, "give us your paw."
The dog, a sturdy-looking deerhound, growled, and closed up to his
mistress.
"D'ye hear? Give's your paw. What yer growling about?"
The dog didn't say, but growled more fiercely.
"Grip, down! Give him your paw," cried the girl.
The dog turned his muzzle up to his mistress, and uttered a low whine.
"Says he don't like to shake hands with a lad like me," said Ram,
laughing.
"But I say he is to, sir," cried the girl haughtily. "Give him your
paw, Grip."
She took the dog by the ear and led him unwillingly toward the boy,
whose eyes sparkled with delight while the hound whimpered and whined
and protested, as if he had an unconquerable dislike to the act he was
called upon to perform.
"Now," cried the girl, "directly, sir. Give him your paw."
What followed seemed ludicrous in the extreme to the boy, for, in
obedience to his mistress's orders, the dog lifted his left paw and
turned his head away to gaze up at his mistress.
"The wrong paw, sir," she cried. "Now, again."
"_Pow how_!" howled the dog, raising his paw now to have it seized by
the boy, squeezed and then loosened, a termination which seemed to give
the animal the most profound satisfaction. For now it was over, he
barked madly and rushed round and round the boy in the most friendly
way.
"There, miss," said Ram with a grin; "we shall be friends now. Nex'
rats we ketch down home, I'll bring up here for him to kill. Hey, Grip!
Rats! Rats!"
The dog bounded up to the boy, rose on his hind legs and placed his
forepaws on the lad's chest, barking loudly.
"Good dog, then. Good-bye, miss; I must get back."
"Oh!"
"You call, miss?" cried the boy, turning as he went whistling away.
"Yes, yes, Ram," said the girl hesitatingly, and glancing behind her,
then up at the house where all was perfectly still. "Do you remember
coming up and bringing a basket about a month ago?"
"Yes, miss, I r'member. That all, miss?"
"No," said the girl, still hesitating. "Ram, are the men coming up to
the house in the middle of the night?"
"Dunno what you mean, miss."
"You do, sir, for you were with them. I saw you and ever so many more
come up with little barrels slung over their shoulders."
Ram's face was a study in the comic line as he shook his head.
"Yes you were, sir, and it was wicked smuggling. I order you to tell me
directly. Are they coming up to-night?"
"Mustn't tell," said the boy slowly.
"Then they are," cried the girl, with her handsome young face puckering
up with the trouble which oppressed her, and after standing looking
thoughtful and anxious for a few moments, she went away toward the front
of the house, while Ram went round to the side and delivered his basket.
"Course we are," he said to himself, as he went down the hill again.
"But I warn't going to blab. What a fuss people do make about a bit o'
smuggling! How pretty she looks!" and he stopped short to admire her--
the _she_ being the _White Hawk_, which lay motionless on the calm sea.
"Wish I could sail aboard a boat like that, and be dressed like that
young chap with his sword. I would like to wear a sword. I told father
so, and he said I was a fool."
He threw himself down on the short turf, which was dotted with black and
grey, as the rooks, jackdaws, and gulls marched about feeding together
in the most friendly way, where the tiny striped snails hung upon the
strands of grass by millions.
"It'll be a fog again to-night," he said thoughtfully, "and she's sure
to come. Ha, ha, ha!" he laughed, as he made a derisive gesture towards
the cutter; "watch away. You may wear your gold lace and cocked hats
and swords, but you won't catch us, my lads; we're too sharp for that."
CHAPTER FIVE.
Shackle was quite right; the fog did begin to gather over the sea soon
after sundown, and the depressing weather seemed to have a curious
effect on Farmer Shackle, who kept getting up from his supper to go and
look out through the open door, and come back smiling and rubbing his
hands.
Mrs Shackle was very quiet and grave-looking and silent for a time, but
at last she ventured a question.
"Did you see her at sundown?"
"Ay, my lass. 'Bout eight mile out."
"But the cutter?"
"Well, what about the cutter?"
"Will it be safe?"
"Safe? Tchah! I know what I'm 'bout."
That being so, Mrs Shackle made no remark, but went on cutting chunks
of bread and butter for her son, to which the boy added pieces of cold
salt pork, and then turned himself into a mill which went on slowly
grinding up material for the making of a man, this raw material being
duly manipulated by nature, and apportioned by her for the future making
of the human mill.
"Now, Ram," said his father, "ready?"
"Yes, father," said the boy, after getting his mouth into talking trim.
"Lanthorns! Off with you."
"Lanthorns won't be no good in the fog."
"Don't you be so mighty clever," growled Shackle. "How do you know that
the fog reaches up far?"
"Did you signal s'afternoon, father?"
"Lanthorns! And look sharp, sir."
The boy went into the back kitchen, took down from a shelf three
horn-lanthorns, which had the peculiarity of being painted black save in
one narrow part. Into these he glanced to see that they were all fitted
with thick candles before passing a piece of rope through the rings at
the top.
This done he took down a much smaller lanthorn, painted black all round,
lit the candle within, and, taking this one in his hand, he hung the
others over his shoulder, and prepared to start.
"Mind and don't you slip over the cliff, Ram," said his mother.
"Tchah! Don't scare the boy with that nonsense," said the farmer
angrily; "why should he want to slip over the cliff? Put 'em well back,
boy. Stop 'bout half an hour, and then come down."
Ram nodded and went off whistling down along the hollow for some hundred
yards toward the sea, and then, turning short off to the right, he began
to climb a zigzag path which led higher and higher and more and more
away to his left till it skirted the cliff, and he was climbing slowly
up through the fog.
The lad's task was robbed of the appearance of peril by the darkness;
but the danger never occurred to Ram, who had been up these cliff-paths
too often for his pleasure to heed the breakneck nature of the rough
sheep-track up and up the face of the cliff, leading to where it became
a steep slope, which ran in and on some four hundred feet, forming one
of the highest points in the neighbourhood.
"It's plaguey dark," said Ram to himself. "Wonder what they're going to
bring to-night?"
He whistled softly as he climbed slowly on.
"Fog's thicker than it was last night. They won't see no lanthorns, I
know."
"Dunno, though," he muttered a little higher up. "Not quite so thick up
here. How old Grip growled! But he had to do it. Aren't afraid of a
dog like him. Look at that!"
He had climbed up the zigzag track another fifty feet, and stopped short
to gaze away at the bright stars of the clear night with the great layer
of fog all below him now.
"Father was right, but I dunno whether they'll be able to see from the
lugger. Don't matter. They know the way, and they'd see the signal
s'afternoon."
He whistled softly as he went on higher, laughing all at once at an idea
which struck him.
"Suppose they were to row right on to the cutter! Wouldn't it 'stonish
them all? I know what I should do. Shove off directly into the fog.
They wouldn't be able to see, and I wouldn't use the sweeps till I was
out of hearing, and then--oh, here we are up atop!"
For the sheep-track had come to an end upon what was really the
dangerous part of the journey. The zigzag and the cliff-path had been
bad, but a fall there would not have been hopeless, for the unfortunate
who lost his footing would go down to the next path, or the next, a
dozen places perhaps offering the means of checking the downward course,
but up where the boy now stood was a slope of short turf with long dry
strands which made the grass terribly slippery, and once any one had
fallen here, and was in motion, the slope was at so dangerous an
elevation that he would rapidly gather impetus, and shoot right off into
space to fall six hundred feet below on to the shore.
This danger did not check Ram's cheery whistle, and he climbed on,
sticking his toes well into the short grass, and rising higher and
higher till he reached some ragged shale with the grass, now very thin,
and about a hundred feet back from the sea, in a spot which he felt
would be well out of the sight of the cutter if those on board could see
above the fog. He set down his lanthorns, two about five feet apart,
lit them all, and held the third on the top of his head as he stood
between the others, so that from seaward the lights would have appeared
like a triangle.
It seemed all done in such a matter of course way that it was evident
that Ram was accustomed to the task, and supporting the lanthorn on his
head, first with one and then with the other hand, he went on whistling
softly an old west country air, thinking the while about Sir Risdon and
Lady Graeme, and about how poor they were, and how much better it was to
live at a farmhouse where there was always plenty to eat, and where his
father could go fishing in the lugger when he liked, and how he could
farm and smuggle, and generally enjoy life.
"That's good half an hour," said Ram, lowering his lanthorn, opening the
door, and puffing out the candle, afterwards serving the others the
same.
_Whew_--_whew_--_whew_--_whew_!
A peculiar whishing of wings from far overhead, as a flock of birds flew
on through the darkness of the night, following the wonderful instinct
which made them take flight to other lands.
"Wasn't geese; and I don't think it was ducks," said the lad to himself,
as he slung his darkened lanthorns together, and began to descend as
coolly as if he had been provided by nature with wings to guard him
against a fall down the cliff.
"Wonder whether they saw the lights," he said to himself. "Not much
good showing them, if they were in the fog."
He went on, gradually approaching the mist which lay below him, and at
last was descending the zigzag path with the stars blotted out, and the
tiny drops of moisture gathering on his eyelashes, finding his way more
by instinct than sight.
"Come in with the tide 'bout 'leven," said Ram, as he still descended
the face of the cliff, then the path, and at last was well down in the
little valley, whose mouth seemed to have been filled up in some
convulsion of nature by a huge wall of cliff, under which the streamlet
which ran from the hills had mined its way.
As soon as he was down on level ground, the boy started for home at a
trot, gave the lanthorns into his mother's hands, and, after a brief
inquiry as to his father's whereabouts, he started off once more.
The part of the cliff for which he made was exactly opposite Sir
Risdon's old house, and to a stranger about the last place where it
would be deemed possible for a smuggler to land his cargo.
Hence the successful landing of many a boat-load, which had been
scattered the country through.
For there, at the foot of the cliff, lay a natural platform or pier,
almost as level as if it had been formed for a landing stage. The deep
water came right up to its edge, and here, at a chosen time of tide, a
lugger could lie close in, and her busy crew and their helpmates land
keg and bale upon the huge ledge,--a floor of intensely hard stone, full
of great ammonites, many a couple of feet across, monsters of
shell-fish, which had gradually settled down and died, when the stone in
which they lay had been soft mud.
Revenue boats had of course, from time to time, as they explored the
coast, noted this natural landing-place, but as there was only a broad
step twenty feet above this to form another platform, and then the
cliffs ran straight up two hundred feet slightly inclined over toward
the sea, and the existence of even a moderate surf would have meant
wreck, it was never even deemed likely that there was danger here, and
consequently it was left unwatched.
The smugglers had a different opinion of the place, and on Ram reaching
the spot he was in nowise surprised to find a group of about thirty men
on the cliff, clustered about the end of a spar, whose butt was run down
into a hole in the rock, which lay a foot beneath the turf, and at whose
end, as it rose at an angle, was a pulley block and rope run through
ready for use should the lugger come.
"Where's father?" whispered Ram to one of the men, who looked curiously
indistinct amid the fog.
"Here, boy," was whispered close to his ear. "Going down to help?"
"May I, father?"
Shackle grunted; and, after speaking to one of the men, Ram took hold of
the loop at the end of the rope, thrust a leg through, held on tightly,
and, after the word was given, swung himself off into the fog.
The well-oiled wheel ran fast, and it was a strange experience that of
gliding rapidly down and steadily turning round and round with the thick
darkness all around, and nothing to show that he who descended was not
stationary. The peril of such a run down would have appeared the
greater, could he who descended have seen how the rope was allowed to
run. For no careful hands held it to allow it to glide through fingers,
which could at any moment clutch the line tightly and act as a check.
The rope lay simply on the turf, and the man who watched over the
descent, merely placed his boot over it, the hollow between sole and
heel affording room for the rope to run, and a little extra pressure
stopping its way.
Thus it was that Ram was allowed to glide rapidly down, till by
experience the man knew that he was nearly at the bottom when the rope
began to run more slowly, and then was checked exactly as the boy's feet
touched the stone shelf, and he stepped from the loop on to the
ammonite-studded rock.
Dimly seen about him was a group of a dozen men, whose faces looked
mysterious and strange, and this was added to by the silence, for only
one spoke, and he when he was addressed, for the first few minutes after
Ram's arrival among them, every one there being listening attentively
for the distant beat of oars.
"Think she'll come to-night, young Ram?" said the man close by him.
"Dunno."
"Been to show the lights?"
"Yes."
"Was there any fog up there?"
"No; clear as could be."
"Then she may come. Pst!"
Hardly a breath could be heard then as ears were strained, and after a
good deal of doubt had been felt, a kind of thrill ran through the men
who had taken hold of a line fastened to a stanchion and lowered
themselves down to the broad ledge.
The low, regular, slow beat of great sweeps became now audible, but
though Ram strained his eyes seaward, nothing was visible for quite
another ten minutes, when, as the boy stood at the brink of the upper
ledge he dimly saw something darker than the mist coming into view.
Soon there came a faint crunching noise as of a fender being crushed
against the rock, followed by the sound of ropes drawn over the bulwark,
and Ram hesitated no longer, but ran to the loop, placed his leg through
it, gave the signal by shaking the rope, and in an instant he was
snatched from his feet, run up, the rope drawn in, and he was landed on
the turf.
A small bag of stones was then attached to the loop, the wheel spun
round, and the bag went whizzing down, while the group of men stood
waiting and waiting, for they could see nothing below, hardly see each
other, so dense was the mist now.
Sundry familiar sounds arose from time to time, and more than once the
farmer uttered an ejaculation full of impatience at the length of time
taken up in bringing the vessel below and taking precautions to keep her
from grinding and bumping against the edge of the shelf, for though the
sea was calm, there was the swell to contend with.
At last.
There was a murmur from below which those two hundred feet above knew
well, and as two stood ready, another man by them took hold of the rope,
and suddenly started off at a run, disappearing at once in the fog,
while a peculiar whizzing sound was heard, as the little wheel in the
block now ran round till all at once a couple of kegs and the bag of
stones appeared level with the top of the cliff. These were seized,
unhitched, and as the bag ran down, a man knelt, fitted a short rope
about the kegs and hoisted them on his shoulder, just as the man who
held the rope trotted up out of the fog into which the other with the
kegs disappeared.
There was a faint hiss, and away ran the man again bringing the next two
kegs up rapidly, to be set at liberty, slung, and hoisted on another
man's back as the hauler came back out of the fog.
And so the unloading went on with marvellous rapidity, the hauler
rushing off into the fog, a couple of kegs coming up into sight, being
taken out of the loops, slung and hoisted just as the hauler came back
and the bearer disappeared, till quite a line of men were trudging
slowly up the hill, down into the valley, and up again toward Sir Risdon
Graeme's old house, the Hoze, till all the bearers were gone, and the
kegs still kept coming up out of the fog.
The silence was astonishing, considering the amount of work being done
and the rapidity with which all went on. Away to left and right
sentries were placed, from among the haulers who, as they grew tired by
their exertions in running up the kegs, were placed there to rest and
listen for danger from seaward; but hour after hour went on, the
carriers, augmented by a dozen more, came and went in two bands now, so
that part were returning as the others were going.
But still they were not in sufficient force, for the Hoze was some
distance away, and the number of kegs kept increasing on the turf at the
top of the cliff.
About half the cargo was landed when Shackle whispered an order to Ram,
who at once stooped to pick up a keg.
"No, no; run without, and see that they store them all up well."
Ram was used to the business, and he went off at a trot, breasted the
hill, dived down into the hollow, and then passing men going and coming,
made for the Hoze, entered by the side door, made his way along a stone
passage, and then down into a huge vault with groined roof lit by a
couple of lanthorns hanging from hooks.
Here for the next three hours he worked hard, helping to stack the
little brandy kegs at first, and afterwards the small tightly packed
bales and chests which were brought more quickly now--a dozen of
swarthy, dirty-looking men, with earrings and short loose canvass
trousers which looked like petticoats, helping to bring up the cargo,
and showed by their presence that all had been landed from the lugger--
that which was now being brought up consisting of the accumulation on
the ledges and at the top of the cliff.
"Much more?" Ram kept asking as he toiled away, wet now with
perspiration.
"Ay, ay, lad, it's a long cargo," he kept hearing; and the lanthorns had
to be shifted twice as the stacks of kegs and bales increased, till just
as the boy began to think the loads would never end, he realised that
the French sailors had not been up lately, and one of their own men
suddenly said--
"Last!"
Ram drew a breath full of relief as the men came out silently, and he
stopped behind with one lanthorn only alight to lock the door of the
great vault, and then stood in the stone passage, thinking how quiet and
still the house seemed.
He went out, closing the door after him, and stood in the garden.
"Wonder whether Miss Celia heard us," he said; "never thought of it
before; they must have tied up old Grip."
He glanced up at the windows as he went out, then they seemed to
disappear in the mist as he made for the track and went downwards, to
hear low voices, and directly after he encountered his father.
"Got 'em all right, boy?"
"Yes, father," said Ram, handing the key. "Lugger gone?"
"Hour and a half ago, lad; just got her empty as the tide turned. Best
run we've had."
He burst into a low fit of chuckling.
"What are you laughing at, father?"
"I was thinking how artful revenue cutters are, boy. I don't believe
that _White Hawk's_ more than half a mile away."
"But then see what a fog it was, father?"
"Tchah! To me it's just the same as a moonshiny night, boy. There,
come on home and get to bed. Must be up early; lots to do to-day."
Seeing that it could not be long before morning, Ram asked himself what
was the use of his going to bed; but he said nothing, only hurried to
keep pace with his father; and soon after, feeling fagged out, he was
fast asleep, and dreaming that whenever he piled the kegs up they kept
on rolling down about him, and that the midshipman from the _White Hawk_
stood looking on, and laughing at him for being clumsy, and then he
awoke fancying he was called.
It was quite right, for Farmer Shackle was shouting--
"Now you, Ramillies, are you going to sleep there all day?"
CHAPTER SIX.
Ram had thrown himself down, dressed as he was, so that an interview
with a bucket of water at the back door, and a good rub with the jack
towel, were sufficient to brighten him up for the breakfast waiting, and
the boy was not long before he was partaking heartily of the bowl of
bread and milk his mother placed before him, his father muttering and
grumbling the while to himself.
"I'm sure you needn't be so cross this morning, master," said Mrs
Shackle reproachfully.
"If you had as much to fret you as I do, wife, you'd be cross."
"Why, you told me this morning that you carried your crop of sea hay
without a drop of water on it."
Farmer Shackle shut one eye, tightened up his mouth, and looked with his
other eye at his wife, which was his idea of laughing.
"Well, then," she said, "what makes you so cross?"
"Cross! Enough to make any man cross. I shall be ruined--such a set of
careless people about me. Those cows left out on the cliff field all
last night, and Tally must have gone over, for I can't see her
anywhere."
"Oh, poor Tally! My kindest cow," cried Mrs Shackle.
"Yes, I shall set that down to you Ramillies. That's a flogging for you
if she isn't found."
"No, no, master; don't be so hard. The poor boy was out all night
looking after signals and--"
Bang! Down came the farmer's fist on the table making the plates and
basins jump.
"Hay, woman, hay!" he roared. "Mind what you're talking about!"
"Don't do that, Blenheim!" cried Mrs Shackle. "You quite frightened
me."
"Yes, I'll frighten the whole lot of you. Ten golden pounds gone over
the cliff through that boy's neglect."
"Well, never mind, dear. You made ever so much more than that last
night, I'll be bound!"
"Will you hold your tongue?" roared the farmer. "There, make haste and
finish that food, boy. Take Jemmy Dadd and the boat and find her.
Skin's worth a few shillings. I must have that."
"Did you look over the cliff, father?" asked Ram.
"I looked over? Of course, but how could I see in that fog?"
Ram was soon out and away, to hunt up Jemmy Dadd, whom he found at last
with his eyes half-closed, yawning prodigiously. They went down to the
boat, launched her, and rowed out along under the tremendous cliffs, and
were about to give up in despair, convinced that the unfortunate cow had
been swept right out to sea, when Ram exclaimed--
"Look yonder, Jem?"
"What for?" grumbled the man; "I'm half asleep, now."
"Never mind that! Look at the cutter."
"Shan't! I've seen un times enough."
"Yes, yes; but look on her deck."
"What for?" said Jemmy, who was steadily pulling homeward.
"Oh, what an obstinate chap you are, Jemmy! Look there; Tally's on
deck."
"Ck!" ejaculated the man, this being meant for a derisive laugh. "Why
don't you say she's having a ride in the Saxham coach."
"I tell you she is. They've got her there, and the sailors are trying
to milk her."
"Then I wish 'em luck," said Jemmy. "There's only one man as can milk
Tally, and that's me."
"Turn the boat's head, and let's go for her."
"Ck!" ejaculated Jemmy again. "What a one you are to joke, Ram Shackle;
but it won't do this mornin'. I'm burst up with sleep."
"Open your stupid eyes, and look for once. I tell you they've got Tally
on the deck of the cutter."
"And I tell you, you young Ram Shackle, I'm too sleepy to see fun
anywhere. Won't do, my lad--won't do."
Ram jumped up, stepped over the thwart, seized the man's head, and
screwed it round toward the cutter, where the scene previously described
was plain in the sunshine.
"Well!" ejaculated Jemmy, "so she be."
"Why couldn't you believe me before, when I told you?"
"Thought you was gammoning me, my lad!"
"There, row away!" cried Ram; and as soon as they were well within
hearing he answered the hail, and next shouted--
"I've come after our cow."
"Very undignified proceeding, Mr Raystoke," said the lieutenant, busily
walking up and down as the boat with Ram in it was being rowed
alongside. "It all comes of being appointed to a wretched, little
cobble boat like this, and sent on smuggling duty. If I--if we had been
aboard a frigate, or even a sloop-of-war, we shouldn't have had such an
affair as this. Why, confound that boy's impudence, he has jumped on
board. Go and speak to him; order him off; pitch him overboard;
anything. How dare he!"
Archy drew himself up, laid one hand upon his dirk, and strutted up to
Ram, looking "as big as a small ossifer," as Dirty Dick said afterwards;
and gave him a smart slap on the shoulder as he was going after the cow.
"Here, you sir!" cried Archy, as the boy faced round. "What do you mean
by coming aboard one of His Majesty's ships like that?"
"Eh?"
"Touch your hat, sir, when an officer speaks to you."
"Touch my hat to you like I do to Sir Risdon?"
"Like you do to any gentleman, sir."
"Oh, very well," said Ram giving one of his fair brown curls a tug, and
showing his teeth.
"That's better. Now then, what do you want?"
"Our Tally."
"Your what?"
"Our cow, Tally."
"How do I know it's yours?"
"Why, it is. She must have walked over the cliff in the fog. Was your
cutter close under so as she fell on deck?"
"Of course not, bumpkin," said Archy impatiently, as the men burst into
a guffaw, and then looked horribly serious as if they had not smiled.
"We saw her swimming and fetched her on board."
"Thank ye," said Ram. "I say, how am I to get her home? Can you lend
us a rope?"
"Who are you, boy?" said the lieutenant, marching up.
Ram faced round, stared at the officer's rather shabby uniform, and gave
his curl another tug before pulling his red cap over his brow.
"Ram Shackle, sir."
"Is--is that your name, sir," said the lieutenant pompously, "or are you
trying to get a laugh at my expense?"
Ram stared.
"Do you hear what I say, sir?"
"Yes, but I dunno what you mean."
"Here, my man, what's that boy's name?" cried the lieutenant to Jemmy
Dadd in the boat.
"Ram Shackle," said Jemmy gruffly. "Christen Rammylees!"
"And is this your cow?"
"No, sir!"
"Then, you young rascal, how dare you come and claim it," cried the
lieutenant wrathfully.
"Because it's ours. My father's; I didn't mean it was my own."
"Can you give me some proof that it is yours?" said the lieutenant.
"Eh!" exclaimed Ram, staring.
"I say, show me that the cow is yours, and you shall have her."
"Oh," cried Ram, and he ran to the side, unfastened the rope used as a
halter for the patient beast, ran right forward, and began to call,
"Tally, Tally! Coosh-cow, coosh-cow!"
The effect was magical, the cow turned sharply round, stretched out her
nose so as to make her windpipe straight, and uttered a low soft lowing,
as she walked straight forward to where Ram stood, thrust her nose under
his arm, and stood swinging her tail to and fro.
"Mr Raystoke!"
"Ay, ay, sir!" said Archy, going aft and saluting.
"It seems to be their cow; let them take it ashore."
"Ay, ay, sir!"
"Stop. Bring the boy here," said the lieutenant.
Archy marched forward.
"Come here, boy," he said importantly; and Ram followed him to where the
little fat officer stood near the helm, frowning.
"Now, sir," said the lieutenant, "I want you to answer me a few
questions. What is your name--no, no, stop, you told me before. Where
do you live?"
"Yonder, at the farm."
"Oh! At the farm. Look here, boy, did you ever hear of smugglers?"
"What?"
"Did you ever hear of smugglers?"
"Yes, lots o' times," said Ram glibly. "They're chaps that goes across
to France and foreign countries, and brings shipfuls o' things over
here."
"Yes, that's right. Ever seen any about here?"
"Well," said Ram, taking off his red cap, and scratching his curly head,
"I dessay I have. Father says you never know who may be a smuggler:
they're all like any one else."
"Humph! Know where they land their cargoes?"
"Oh, yes; I've heard tell as they land 'em all along the cliff here."
"Bah! Impossible," shouted the lieutenant.
"Is it, sir?" said Ram vacantly. "My father said it was true."
"Seen any smugglers' craft about during the last few days?"
"No, sir; not one," cried the boy with perfect truth.
"That will do, boy. Mr Raystoke let him take his cow and go."
"Ay, ay, sir!"
"Then get the gig alongside, and we'll explore round more of the coast
close in."
"Ay, ay, sir! Now, boy, this way."
Ram looked vacantly about him, but there was a very keen twinkle about
his eyes, as he followed Archy forward to where the cow stood blinking
her eyes, and swinging her tail amongst the men.
"I say," he said.
"Did you speak to me, sir?" cried Archy, facing round, and frowning.
"Yes. Is that little sword sharp?"
"Of course."
"Pull it out, and let's have a look."
Archy frowned.
"Take your cow and go," he said. "She is a miserable thing without a
drop of milk in her."
"What?" cried Ram, with his face becoming animated. Then he shouted to
the man in the boat, "Hi! Jemmy, he says Tally's got no milk in her."
"How do he know?" cried Jem scornfully.
"Why, I tried ever so long," said Dick, who could not refrain from
joining in.
"Ck!" laughed Jemmy.
"Why, she's our best cow," cried Ram. "I say skipper."
"Here, you mustn't speak to an officer like that," whispered Archy.
"What does the boy want?" said the plump little lieutenant, marching
forward.
"On'y want our cow."
"Then take her, sir, and go!"
"Have a drop of milk?"
"No," said the lieutenant, turning his back. "Perhaps Mr Raystoke here
might like a little. Can you milk?"
"I can't," said Ram, shaking his head. "He can. Here, Jemmy, take hold
of the painter and come aboard."
"Stop!" cried the lieutenant, "you must not speak like that. You must
ask leave, sir."
"Ask who?" said Ram, vacantly.
"Touch your cap, and ask the lieutenant to let you."
"Why, I have touched it twice. Want me to pull my hair off? I say,
skipper, if you'll let him come aboard--oh! He is aboard now,"--for
Jemmy was already making the boat fast--"Here, give me a clean pail."
The little commander of the cutter tried to look important, and Archy
more so, but they forgot everything disciplinarian the next moment, in
the interest of the proceedings, as Jemmy Dadd took the bucket handed to
him, turned another up beside the side of the cow, and as he was sitting
down, Dirty Dick dug his elbows into his messmates' ribs right and left,
whispered "Look out! And over he goes." Then he drew in a long breath,
ready for a roar of laughter when the bucket went flying, and stood
staring waiting to explode.
But, to Dick's great disappointment, Tally uttered a soft low, and began
to swing her tail gently round, so as to give Jemmy a pat on the back.
At regular intervals there was a whishing noise, then another whishing
noise half a tone lower, then _whish_--_whosh_--_whish_--_whosh_, two
streams of rich new milk began to pour into the bucket, whose bottom was
soon covered, and a white froth began to appear on the top.
"I say!" cried Dick eagerly, "shall I lash her legs?"
"What for?" growled Jemmy.
"'Cause she'll kick it over directly."
"Not she. You wouldn't kick it over, would you, Tally, old cow?"
The cow waved her tail and whisked it about the man's neck as the
milking went on, to the delight of the men, who began to see biscuit and
milk in prospect, while the two officers, who were none the less eager
for a draught as a change from their miserable ordinary fare, veiled
their expectations under a severe aspect of importance.
"Here you are," said Jemmy, drawing back at last--while Dick seemed to
be watching, in a state of agony, lest a kick should upset the soft
white contents of the bucket--"More'n a gallon this time. How much are
we to leave aboard?"
"All of it," said Ram generously; "they deserve it for saving the cow.
I say, you," he continued, turning to Archy, "what do you say to her
now?"
"Thank you," replied Archy. "Here, Dick, take that bucket aft, and you,
my lads, open the side there, and help them to get the cow overboard."
"Thank ye, sir," said Ram, smiling. "I say, Jemmy, she'd stand in the
boat, wouldn't she? Or would she put her feet through?"
"Let's try," was the laconic reply, and taking hold of the rope that had
been used as a halter, the man stepped down into the boat, the cow,
after a little coaxing, following, without putting her feet through, and
showing great activity for so clumsy-looking a beast. Ram followed, and
took one of the oars, settled down behind Jemmy, and the next minute,
with the whole crew of the cutter standing grinning at the side, they
began to row shoreward.
"How about the tide, Jemmy?" said Ram, when they had been rowing a few
minutes, with the cow standing placidly in the boat.
"Too high, can't do it," said the man.
"Let's row to the ledge then, and land there till the tide goes down."
"Right," said Jemmy, and they bore off a little to the east, made
straight for the shelf of rock, which was just awash; and as they rowed,
they saw the lieutenant and the midshipman enter the light gig, four men
dropped their oars in the water, and with the drops flashing from the
blades, the gig came swiftly after them.
"Why, they're coming here too, Jemmy," said Ram, as they reached the
ledge, and leaped on to the ammonite-studded stone, over which the water
glided and then ran back.
"Well, let 'em," said Jemmy, following suit with the painter, the cow
standing contentedly with her eyes half-closed. "Don't matter to us,
lad, so long as they didn't come last night."
They made fast the hawser to an iron stanchion, one of several dotted
about and pretty well hidden by the water, climbed up on the rock, and
sat down in the warm sunshine to wait for the turn of the tide, while
after a pull in one direction, the gig's course was altered, and they
saw its course changed again.
"I liked that chap," said Ram, as he gazed across a few hundred yards of
smooth water, at where Archy sat in his uniform, steering.
"What are they up to?" said Jemmy, shading his eyes. Then quite
excitedly, "Say, lad, lookye yonder," he whispered.
"I was looking," cried Ram excitedly; "they've picked up a brandy keg."
There was no denying the fact; and as the dripping little barrel was
placed by one of the men in the fore part of the gig, the others gave
way, and the light vessel came rapidly now toward the ledge.
Archy was shading his eyes just then, and pointing out something to the
lieutenant a little to the left of where Ram and his companion were
seated, and the boy's eyes, trained by his nefarious habits, gazed
sharply in search of danger or criminating evidence, in the direction
the midshipman pointed.
A chill of horror ran through him, for there, with the wash of the tide
half covering and then leaving them bare, were two more brandy kegs,
which had been missed the previous night during the fog.
"Ah!" ejaculated Ram, as in imagination he saw the well-filled vault,
and the crew of the cutter being marched up to make a seizure, and
arrest his father perhaps.
If he could but get away and give the alarm!
CHAPTER SEVEN.
"Get away, and give the alarm?"
How could we?
There was no rope and pulley up on the cliff now, and the boat was
occupied by the cow; while, even if it had been empty, it would have
meant a six mile row to reach a landing-place at that time of the tide,
and an eight miles' walk back.
And here was the cutter's gig close to them, and the lieutenant ready to
ask him the meaning of the smuggled spirits being there.
For there was no mistaking the fact that the kegs were full of smuggled
spirit. The one the king's men had dragged dripping from the sea, bore
certain unmistakable markings, and it was evidently brother to those on
the rock.
Ram and Jemmy had no time for thinking; the gig was run quickly up
alongside of the ledge, and Dick tossed in his oar, sprang out, sending
the clear water splashing with his bare feet, as he crossed up to the
kegs, and, taking one under each arm, went more slowly and cautiously
back to the boat, where his messmates took them carefully, with many a
chuckle and grin, to deposit them beside the others.
"Now, my lad, run her alongside of the cow--I mean of the other boat,"
cried the lieutenant.
This was quickly done, and the little officer turned sharply to where
Ram and Jemmy Dadd were seated on the rock, looking on as stolidly as if
nothing whatever was coming.
"Hi! You, sir; come here!" cried the lieutenant.
"Me, or him?" replied Ram coolly.
"You, sir."
Ram got up, whistled softly, and went down to the boat.
"Want some more milk?" he said, with a grin.
"Silence, sir! Do you see those?"
"What, them tubs?"
"Yes, sir."
"Not till you got 'em. Wish I had!"
"I dare say you do, sir. Now, then: how did they come there?"
"Why, your chaps put 'em there. I see 'em just now."
"No, no; I mean in the sea and on that rock."
"Come there?" said Ram, with a vacant look.
"Yes, sir! How did they come there? Now, no trifling; out with it at
once."
"Been a wreck, p'r'aps, and they're washed up."
"Bah!" cried the lieutenant.
"Ah, you may say `Bah!' but they might. Why, there was a big ship's
boat and a jib-boom washed up here one day; warn't there, Jem?"
"Yes," growled the rough-looking fellow, half-fisherman half
farm-labourer. "And don't you 'member the big tub o' sugar, as was all
soaked with water, till she was like treacle?"
"Ay, and the--"
"That will do--that will do!" cried the lieutenant.
"Washed up, eh? What's in those kegs?"
"I know," cried Ram, showing his teeth, and looking at Archy. "Full o'
hoysters! Give us one!"
"Come, sir; this won't do for me. You know as well as I do what's in
those kegs. Where are the rest?"
"Rest?" said Ram, looking round. "Are there any more of 'em?"
"Yes, I'll be bound there are. Now, then, out with it, if you want to
save your skin."
"Skin? That's what father said this morning about the cow; but she
wasn't drowned."
"Look here, boy. All this sham innocency won't do for me. Now, then,
if you will tell me where the other kegs are, you shall have a reward;
if you don't, you'll go to prison as sure as you're there. Jump ashore,
two of you, and arrest them before they run."
Ram turned, and stared at Jemmy Dadd with an ill-used countenance.
"What does he mean, Jemmy?"
The man shook his head.
"Do you know where the other little barrels are?"
"Wish I did," grumbled Jemmy. "Say, master, what would you give a man
if he showed you where they were?"
"Ten guineas; perhaps twenty," said the lieutenant eagerly.
"Ten guineas! Twenty pounds!" said Jemmy, taking off his red worsted
cap, and rubbing his head. "My! Was they your'n? Did you lose 'em?"
"No," roared the lieutenant; "it's plain enough, and you know. A cargo
has been run here on this ledge. Now, then; it's no use to try and hide
it. You know where it is; so will you gain a reward by giving evidence,
or will you go to prison?"
Jemmy shook his head, and gave Ram a puzzled look.
"We came after our cow, sir, please," said the latter, looking up at the
sailor, who stood with a hand upon his arm, while Jemmy did the same.
"Here, boy!" cried the lieutenant. "You know what a lot of money ten
guineas would be?"
"Yes," said Ram grinning.
"Why, you could buy yourself a watch and chain, and be doing your duty
to the king as well. Come, did you see a French boat down here last
night?"
"No," said Ram. "It was so foggy."
"You are playing with me, sir. Now then, will you answer?"
"I did answer," said Ram meekly. "Didn't I, Jemmy?"
"Jump ashore, you two," said the lieutenant, "and have a good search all
among those rocks. The cargo's there for certain. You two others," he
continued, "draw cutlasses, and keep guard over the prisoners."
His orders were obeyed, and the two men stood by guarding Ram, Jemmy,
and the cow, who blinked her eyes and smelt at the sea water from time
to time, raised her head and uttered a soft low, which was answered from
the green top of the cliff two hundred feet above them, where another
cow stood gazing down.
The lieutenant and Archy stood up in the boat watching and directing as
Dick and his companion searched about in all directions along the lower
ledge, and then managed to climb up to the one twenty feet above, where
the next minute Dick gave a shout.
"Hah!" cried the lieutenant joyfully. "He has found them."
Ram shut one of his eyes at Jemmy, who made a rumbling noise, but his
face did not change.
"What is it, my lad?"
"Cave," cried Dick.
"What's in it?"
"Lobster-pots and old sail. All wore out."
"Nothing else?"
"No, sir."
"You go and look."
The second man disappeared, but returned directly.
"It's on'y a bit of a hole, sir, and there's nothin' else."
The search was continued and ended, for the ledge was shut in by the
mighty wall of rock towering above their heads, and the lieutenant was
soon convinced that it was impossible for any one to climb that without
tackle from above.
"Come back aboard," he said. "You two stop and guard those prisoners."
The sailors stepped back into the boat and resumed their oars, to row
steadily east for about half a mile, past several shallow caves, but
they could not see one likely to become a hiding-place for smuggled
goods, and the rock rose higher and higher above their heads, precluding
all ascent.
The boat was rowed quickly back past where the prisoners sat contentedly
enough; save the cow, which kept making the great rock wall echo with
her lowings, while three more of her kind now stood on high, gazing down
at her plight.
The lieutenant now had himself rowed west for about the same distance,
but in this direction they did not pass a crack in the great rock wall,
let alone a cave, and once more the gig was rowed back.
"Get back into your boat," said the little officer sharply.
"Thank ye, sir," cried Ram. "Come along, Jemmy. Find your little
barrels?"
"Come aboard, my lads," continued the lieutenant, without replying to
the question. "Make fast her painter to the ring-bolt here."
This was done, a fresh order given, and, with the rough boat and cow in
tow, the gig began to make slowly for the cutter.
Ram bent his head down in the boat.
"Hist, Jemmy!" he whispered.
"Hallo!"
"Shall we jump over and swim ashore?"
"Nay; what's the good?--they'd come arter us, and there's no getting
away."
"I say," shouted Ram, "what are you going to do?"
Archy turned to the lieutenant.
"Take no notice. A day or two aboard will make him speak."
"The cow wants turning out to grass," shouted Ram; but no heed being
paid to his words, "Oh, very well," he said, "I don't care. She'll die,
and you'll have to pay for her. I wish my father knew."
He need not have troubled himself to wish, for Farmer Shackle was lying
down, hidden behind some stones on the top of the cliff, watching what
was going on, with his brow rugged. He had heard enough of the
conversation, after being attracted to the place by the action of his
cows, to know that the kegs had been discovered, and he smiled as he
made out that his boy and man were quite staunch, and would not say a
word.
"Won't get anything out o' them," he muttered, as he watched the
returning boats. "Shall I tell old Graeme? No; that would only scare
him. They'll land a party, and come and search; but they won't dare to
go to the Hoze, so I'll leave the stuff there and chance it."
Having made up his mind to this, he lay behind the stones watching till
he had seen Ram, Jemmy, and the cow on board the cutter and the boats
made fast; after which, as he could see that the lieutenant was busy
with his glass, he waited his opportunity, got a cow between him and the
sea, and then with raised stick began to drive the cattle from the
neighbourhood of the precipice, his action seeming perfectly natural,
and raising no suspicion in the officer's breast.
Farmer Shackle was quite right, for it was not long before a boat,
well-filled with men, under the command of the midshipman and the
master, put off from the cutter, and began to row west to the little
cove, through whose narrow entrance a boat could pass to lie on the
surface of a cup-shaped depression, at whose head a limpid stream of
water gurgled over the cleanly-washed shingle below the great chalk
cliffs.
Shackle saw them go, and, guessing their destination, chuckled; for in
their ignorance the search party were going to make a journey of twelve
or fourteen miles round each way, when any one accustomed to the place
would have made the trip in less than two.
"Well, let 'em go," said Shackle; "but if they do find out, I'd better
have my two boats out at sea," and he thought of his luggers lying in
the little cup-like cove. "Nay there's no hurry; people won't be too
eager to tell 'em whose boats they are, and I might want to get away."
He remained thinking about his son for a few minutes and then his
countenance lightened.
"Tchah!" he said; "they won't eat him, and they can't do anything but
keep him. They've found three kegs--that's all. Wish I'd been behind
the man who forgot 'em! He wouldn't forget that in a hurry."
Farmer Shackle went home, and was saluted by the question--
"Found my Tally?"
"Yes, wife."
"Drowned?"
"No; all right."
That was sufficient for Mrs Shackle, who had some butter to make.
Meanwhile the boat containing Archy Raystoke and Gurr the master, with
her crew, was rowed steadily along under the cliffs, the deep water
being close up. It was a hot day and hard work, but the men pulled away
cheerfully, for a run ashore was a change.
The opening into the cove was reached, and the boat run ashore, and one
man being left as keeper, the little well-armed party of a dozen men
were marched off along the narrow road toward the Hoze.
Archy was in the highest of spirits, and meant to search everywhere in
the neighbourhood of the ledge, so as to cover himself with glory in the
eyes of his superior officer. Old Gurr the master, who had been turned
over to the cutter for two reasons, that he was a good officer and a man
with a bad temper, found no pleasure in the walk whatever.
Now he grumbled about his corns, and said he never saw such a road;
worse than an old sea beach. Then he limped with the pain of an old
wound; and lastly, he forgot all about his troubles in the solace he
found in a huge quid of tobacco, with whose juice he plentifully
besprinkled the leaves of the brambles that were spread on either side.
The men tramped on, exciting the interest of the people of the little
villages that were passed--clusters of white rough stone houses by the
roadside, whose occupants looked innocence itself, but there was hardly
one among them who could not have told tales about busy work on dark
nights, carrying kegs and bales, or packages of tobacco from the cliff,
to some hiding-place in barn or cave.
Old Gurr knew that, and he winked solemnly at the young midshipman.
"Nice chickens, Mr Raystoke," he said.
"Where, Gurr?" cried Archy, who was growing fast, and wanted material to
help nature. "Let's get some eggs to take back."
"Eggs!" grumbled the weather-beaten officer; "I didn't mean fowls, I
meant people."
"Oh!"
"Eggs, indeed! Their eggs is kegs o' brandy. Right Nantes; Hollands
gin. I know them. They're all in the game. Keep on, my lads. Step
together like the sogers do. This here road's not the cutter's deck."
The last order was not needed, for the men marched on cheerfully and
well, till they had passed on the inner side of the high cliff where Ram
had displayed his lanthorns, and following the rough road, came at last
to the scattered cottages occupied by Shackle's men, and those who had
once been servants at the Hoze, before it had sunk down in the world,
consequent upon its master's having espoused the wrong side, and its
servants were reduced to one old woman.
As they reached the tiny hamlet, a short conference was held between
Archy and the master, the latter, in a surly way, giving the lad a few
hints as to his proceedings, every suggestion, though, being full of
common sense.
"We've no right to go searching their places, Mr Raystoke, but I shall
make a mistake. They won't complain. They daren't."
"Why?"
"Hands are too dirty; if not with this job, with some other."
So they halted the men, posted one at each end of the little place, so
as to command a good view of any one attempting to carry off contraband
goods, and went from house to house, the people readily submitting to
the intrusion and search, which in each case was without result.
Every one of the cottages being tried, the men were marched down hill
after Archy, and stood for a few moments gazing out over the cliff, to
where the cutter lay at anchor, with the farmer's boat trailing out
astern, and the air so clear that he could even see the cow tethered to
a belaying pin, just in front of the mast.
Five minutes after they came upon Fisherman-farmer Shackle himself,
leaning over his gate and smoking a pipe, as he apparently contemplated
a pig, and wondered whether he ought to make it fatter than it was.
"Mornin', gentlemen," he said, as Archy and the master came up, and
halted their men.
"Good morning," said Archy shortly. "Stand aside, please; we must
search all your places."
"Search my places, squire--capt'n, I mean? He aren't here."
"Who is not here? Are not you the master?"
"Ay, my lad, but I mean him you're searching for. Hi! Missus!"
"Yes," came from within, and Mrs Shackle appeared wiping her hands.
"Ain't seen a deserter, missus, have you? Capt'n here has lost one of
his men."
"If you'll let me speak, I'll explain," said Archy sharply. "A cargo of
contraband goods was landed on the rocks below the cliff last night,
and--"
"You don't say so, master!" said Shackle earnestly.
"I do say so," cried Archy; "and you are suspected of having them
concealed here."
"Me!" cried Shackle, bursting into a roar of laughter. "Me, Mr
Orficer? Do you know what I am?"
"No."
"Why, I'm a farmer. Hi, missus, hear him! Young gent here thinks I'm a
smuggler. That is a good un, and no mistake."
Archy was taken aback for the moment, but he caught the eye of the
master, who was too old over the business to be easily hoodwinked.
"The young gentleman's made quite a mistake," said Mrs Shackle
demurely. "P'r'aps he'd like a mug of our mead before he goes, and his
men a drop of home-brewed."
"Ay, to be sure," cried Shackle. "Put out the bread and cheese, missus,
and I'll go and draw a drink or two. You'll take something too, won't
you, master?"
"Yes; don't mind," said Gurr, "but I'd rather take a tot o' right Nantes
or Hollands."
"Ay, so would I," said Shackle, with a laugh, as his wife began to
bustle about and get knives and plates; "but you've come to the wrong
place, master. I have heared o' people getting a drop from 'em, after
they've used their horses and carts, but that's never been my luck; has
it, missus?"
"No, never," said Mrs Shackle; and to herself,--"That's quite true."
"You are very hospitable," said Archy shortly; "but I've got my duty to
do, sir. It's an unpleasant one, that we must search your place for
contraband goods."
"Sarch? Oh, I give you my word, squire, there's nothing here."
"We must see about that."
"Well, this here arn't werry pleasant, Mr Orficer, seeing as I'm a
reg'lar loyal servant of the king. But theer, I don't mind if my missus
don't object. You won't mind, old gal, so long as they don't rip open
the beds and chuck the furniture all over the place?"
"I should like to see any of them doing it, that's all," cried Mrs
Shackle, ruffling up like a great Dorking hen who saw a hawk.
"Nothing about the place shall be injured, madam," said Archy politely;
"but we must search."
"Oh, very well then," said Mrs Shackle; "but I must say it's very
rude."
"Pray, forgive us," said Archy, raising his hat; "we are His Majesty's
servants, and we do it in the king's name."
Mrs Shackle responded with her best curtsey, and a smile came back in
her face as the farmer said,--
"It's all right, missus; they're obliged to do it. Where will you begin
first--what are you sarching for?"
"Brandy," said Archy.
"Oh, then, down in the cellar's the place," said Shackle, laughing, and
taking three mugs from where his wife had placed them. "If it had been
for silks and laces, I should have said go upstairs."
He led the way to a door at the top of some stone steps.
"One moment," said Archy, and, giving orders to the men to separate,
surround the premises, and search the outbuildings, then stationing two
more at the doors, and taking one, Gurr, to search upstairs, he followed
the farmer into a fairly spacious stone cellar, where there was a cider
barrel in company with two of ale, and little kegs of elder wine and
mead.
"Sarch away, squire," said Shackle bluffly, as he placed the mugs on the
floor and turned the wooden spigots.
"That's elder wine in the little barrel. Say, you haven't seen anything
of a boy of mine in your travels? My lad and one of the men have gone
after a stray cow. I'm fear'd she's gone over the cliff."
"They're all on board the cutter."
"What? Well, that is good news. Full up here. Done sarching, sir?"
"Yes," replied Archy, who began to feel more and more ashamed of being
suspicious of so frank and bluffly hospitable a man.
"Come along then. Your lads will be as pleased as can be with a mug of
my home-brewed."
As he led the way to the door the midshipman gave another glance round,
seeing nothing in the slightest degree suspicious, and, a few minutes
after, the whole party was being refreshed, both officers quite
convinced that there was nothing contraband on the premises.
"What other houses are there near here?" asked Gurr at last.
"Only one. The Hoze."
"The Hoze?"
"Yes; Sir Risdon Graeme's. Yonder among the trees. Going up there?"
"Yes, of course," said Archy shortly.
"Yes, of course," said the farmer, in assent. "But I'd be a bit easy
with him, sir. Don't hurt his feelings. Gentleman, you see."
"Don't be alarmed," said the midshipman quietly. "I hope we shall not
be rude to any one."
He moved towards the door, after saluting Mrs Shackle, the farmer
leading the way, and pointing out the nearest path up the steep slope.
"'Bout my cow," he said.
"I have no doubt that as soon as the lieutenant in command is satisfied
that you had nothing to do with the smuggling, your people will be set
at liberty."
"And the cow?"
"And the cow of course."
"Thank ye, sir; that's good news. I'll go and tell the missus.
Straight on, sir; you can't miss it."
"Ah, my fine fellow," he continued, as he walked back, "if it hadn't
been for your gang with you, how easily I could have turned the key and
kept you down in that cellar, where I wish I had your skipper too."
"Oh, Blenheim!" said his wife, in an excited whisper, "how could you
help them to go up to the Hoze? They'll find out everything now."
"P'r'aps not, missus. I sent 'em, because if I hadn't they'd have found
the way. We may get off yet, and if we do--well, it won't be the first
time; so, here's to luck."
As he spoke he opened a corner cupboard, took out a bottle of spirits
which had never paid duty, poured out and drank a glass.
"Thank you," said a gruff voice. "I think, if you don't mind, farmer,
I'll have a little taste of that. I came back to tell you that your
cider is rather harsh and hard, not to say sour, and I'm a man
accustomed to rum."
As he spoke, Gurr the master stepped into the room, took the bottle from
the farmer's hand, helped himself to a glass, and poured out and smelt
the spirit.
"I say, farmer," he said, as he tasted, "this is the right sort or the
wrong sort, according to which side you are."
"Only a little drop given me by a friend."
"French friend, for any money," said the master, drinking the glass.
"Yes, that's right Nantes. I thought so from the first, farmer, and I
know now I was right."
He went off again, and Shackle stood shaking his fist after him.
"And we'd got off so well," he muttered. "I knew that rascal suspected
us."
"Say me, Blenheim," retorted Mrs Shackle. "I've begged you hundreds of
times not to meddle with the business, but you would, and I'm your wife
and obliged to obey. Isn't Ram a long time bringing home that cow?"
"Yes," said Shackle drily. "Very."
CHAPTER EIGHT.
Archy was some little distance ahead of his men, and he had just stepped
into the patch of woodland which surrounded the Hoze, when he heard a
pleasant little voice singing a snatch of a Jacobite song.
He stopped short to listen, it sounded so bird-like and sweet, and
half-laughingly he sang the last line over aloud, thinking the while how
disloyal he was.
Hardly had he finished, when there was a burst of barking, a rush, and a
dog came hurrying toward him, followed by a voice crying--
"Grip, Grip, come here!"
The dog seemed to pay no heed to the call, and at a turn of the track,
Archy saw him coming open-mouthed.
It was not a pleasant sight, and the youth felt disposed to take to his
heels, and run for protection to his men.
But there were drawbacks to such a proceeding.
If he ran it would look cowardly, and he knew for certain that the dog
would come after him, and take him at a disadvantage; so, making a
virtue of necessity, he whipped out his dirk and ran hard at the dog,
who checked his pace, hesitated, stopped, barked more furiously than
ever, and then turned round, and was chased by the midshipman, who drew
up on finding himself face to face with Sir Risdon's daughter, out for
her daily walk.
The girl turned white, and was in the act of turning to run away, when
Archy's words arrested her.
"No, no," he cried, "don't run away."
She stopped, and looked from his face to his dirk, and back.
"Oh, I see," he said, "that alarmed you. There," he continued,
sheathing the little weapon, "I only drew it because your dog looked so
fierce. Does he bite?"
"Sometimes, I'm afraid. But were you coming to see my father? Who are
you?" she added uneasily, as she glanced at the lad's uniform.
"I am Archibald Raystoke, of His Majesty's cutter _White Hawk_."
"And you want to see my father?" cried the girl, beginning to tremble.
"Well, yes, I ought to see him. The fact is, we have landed to search
for a quantity of smuggled things, and to make a capture of the
smugglers if we can."
Celia looked at him wildly, and her face grew more and more white.
"Will you show me the way to the house? The Hoze you call it, do you
not?"
Celia gave a quick, almost imperceptible nod, as she recalled how she
had lain in her clothes, and listened to the busy coming and going of
footsteps, for the greater part of the night.
As all this came to her mind, she felt at first as if she must run to
warn her father. Then a giddy feeling of dread came over her, and she
stood staring blankly at the frank-looking boy before her.
"I know the great vault is full of smuggled things," she said to
herself, "and that they will think my father put them there. What shall
I do?"
"Poor little lassie!" said Archy to himself, as he smiled complacently;
"she has never seen an officer in uniform before, and I frightened her
with my drawn sword."
At that moment, Gurr came up with the men, and Celia seemed as if turned
to stone.
"This young lady lives at the house, Mr Gurr," said Archy aloud, "and
she will show us the way."
Poor Celia felt as if she could neither move nor speak. It seemed
horrible to her that she should have the task of guiding the king's men,
perhaps to arrest her father. But just then she was brought to herself
by the behaviour of the dog, who, on seeing his mistress talking in a
friendly way to the stranger who had chased him, had condescended to be
quiet, but now that a fresh party of the enemy was approaching, set up
his bristles, and began to bark and growl furiously.
"Down, Grip! Quiet!" she cried, and feeling bound to act, she went on,
with the midshipman keeping close up, and putting in an apologetic word
about giving her so much trouble.
Celia could hardly keep down a hysterical cry, as she caught sight of
her father and mother, the latter with her hand upon the former's arm.
They had been taking their customary walk in the neglected garden, and
Sir Risdon was about to lead his pale, careworn lady up the steps, when
the snarling and subdued barking of Grip made him turn his head, and he
stopped short with his lips almost white.
"What is it?" whispered Lady Graeme, as she saw the uniforms and weapons
of the men.
"The end!" said the unhappy man, as he looked wildly at his wife. "The
result of my weakness. They are on the scent of the smuggled goods, and
I am to be called to account for their possession. Better that we had
starved!"
Lady Graeme caught his hand, and pressed it hard.
"Be firm," she whispered; "you will betray yourself."
"Well," he replied bitterly, "why not? Better so than being the slave
of that wretched man. I feel that I am worse than he. I do know
better, he does not."
Recalling that he was in the presence of a gentleman, Archy raised his
hat, advanced and said, apologetically, who and what they were. That
his was a very unpleasant duty, but that as a gentleman, Sir Risdon
would see that the king's officers had no alternative but to carry out
their duty.
"Of course not, sir," said Sir Risdon. "I understand, sir, you wish to
search. Very well, I shall raise no objection. Proceed."
"Shall we close the men all round the house?" said the master, coming up
after halting the men.
"Wait a minute," replied Archy. "Really, I hardly think it is necessary
for us to commit so serious an act of rudeness towards a gentleman.
Perhaps Sir Risdon Graeme will be good enough to assure me."
"No, sir," said the baronet sternly; "I shall make no obstacle. You
have your duty to do; pray proceed."
The midshipman hesitated, and looked from one to the other, seeing Lady
Graeme standing pale, handsome, and statuesque by her husband's side,
while on the other side was Celia, holding her father's hand, and
resting her forehead against his arm.
"I won't do it, I can't," thought Archy. "Why didn't he say out at once
he had no knowledge of the affair, and send us about our business?"
At that moment, he felt his sleeve plucked, and turning angrily round,
he saw the elderly master, who had been standing hat in hand, greatly
impressed by Lady Graeme's dignity.
"We're on the wrong tack, Mr Raystoke, sir," he whispered.
"Think so, Gurr?" said Archy joyfully.
"Oh, yes! These are not the sort o' folk to do that kind o' thing.
Apologise, and I'll give the order to march. It goes through me like a
knife."
Archy drew a long breath, and was about to retire his men, when he heard
something which made him bound forward, for Celia, unable to bear the
horror and alarm any longer had suddenly swooned away.
The midshipman was too late, for Sir Risdon had bent down, raised his
child, and was about to carry her into the house.
He turned fiercely on the young officer.
"Well, sir," he said sternly, "you have your duty to do; pray go on, and
then relieve my wife and child of the presence of your men."
"I beg your pardon, Sir Risdon," said Archy quickly. "No one could
regret this more than I do. You see I am only a young officer, quite a
boy, and was sent on this unpleasant duty."
"Go on, sir, go on!"
"Oh, no!" cried the lad; "I am unwilling to search the place. I'm sure
if our lieutenant knew he would not wish it for a moment."
The baronet gazed at the boy wildly, as he clasped his child to his
breast.
"You--you are not going to search?" he said hesitatingly.
"No, of course not. Pray forgive me. I'll lead my men back to the boat
at once."
He raised his hat to Lady Graeme, an example followed by the master
clumsily, as he backed away to the men, whom he faced round, the order
was given, and they began to march back.
As they disappeared among the trees, Sir Risdon stooped down and kissed
his child's forehead passionately.
"Wife," he said, in a deep, husky voice, "I never felt the misery and
degradation of my position so cruelly before. Take her up to her room."
"What are you going to do, Risdon?" exclaimed the lady.
"Follow that poor lad, and let him know the truth. I will not let him
fail in his duty, to rescue that old scoundrel down below."
"No, no! You must not. It would be too cruel," whispered Lady Graeme
wildly. "Think of the consequences."
"I do," said Sir Risdon sternly. "I should have behaved like what I
have a right to be called--a gentleman."
"And make our fortunes ten times worse. You would be torn from us.
What are poverty and disgrace to that?"
"You are cruel," said Sir Risdon bitterly. "I must, woman; I tell you I
must. If this poor child should ever know into what a pit I have
allowed myself to be led, how can I ever look her in the face again?"
"It would kill her for you to be taken away, to be punished, perhaps,
for that which you could hardly help."
"No, she would soon forget."
"And I should soon forget?" said Lady Graeme reproachfully.
Sir Risdon turned to her wildly, as she laid her head upon his breast.
"If you were taken from us, it would kill me too," she said tenderly;
and then in silence, they bore their insensible child into the
forbidding-looking house.
CHAPTER NINE.
"Think we've done right, my lad?" said Gurr, after they had half way
descended the slope.
"Yes, of course. How could we search the house of a gentleman like
that?"
"Oh, easy enough."
"It was impossible."
"But suppose, after all, he has got all the stuff hid away. Some men's
very artful, as you'll find out some day. Oughtn't we to go back?"
He paused as he said these words, and then laid his hand firmly on
Archy's shoulder.
"I didn't tell you," he said, "what I saw when I went back to the farm."
"No! What?" cried the midshipman eagerly.
"That old chap having a glass of real smuggled spirits."
"How do you know it was?"
"Because I tasted it. No mistake about that, I can tell you. Then he
was very eager to get me to go up yonder, and that looks bad. He knows
all about it."
"Nonsense! If he knew that the smuggled goods were up there he wouldn't
send us to find them."
"How do you know? That may have been his artfulness, to keep us from
searching. If he'd as good as said don't go up there, and tried to stop
us, we should have gone at once."
"But we can't go back and search, Gurr. Suppose we did go and ransacked
the place, and hurt everybody's feelings, and then found nothing, what
should we look like then?"
"Silly," said the master laconically, and for a time he was silent,
marching on behind the men. "All comes of being sent on such dooty," he
burst out with. "It isn't right to send gentlemen and officers to do
such dirty work. I've been ashamed of myself ever since I've been on
the cutter. Hallo! Here's the farmer again."
For they had suddenly come upon Shackle driving an old grey horse before
him as if going on some farming business, and he started apparently from
a fit of musing as he came abreast.
"Ah, gentlemen," he said; "going back?"
"Yes," said Gurr smartly.
"Found the stuff?"
"No."
"I say."
"Well?"
"Are you sure there was anything landed there last night?"
"Of course we are."
"Oh, I didn't know. Good day, gentlemen, good day."
He went on after his horse chuckling to himself, while the search party
made for the track to get back to the cove and row back.
But before they were half way there, Archy who had been thinking deeply,
suddenly said to Gurr--
"I say, though, isn't he right?"
"What about, my lad?"
"Are we sure that a cargo was landed last night?"
"Didn't you and the skipper find three kegs?"
"Yes, but they might have been there a month ago."
"Why, of course, my lad. Here, let's go and tell the skipper so. How I
do hate being sent upon a wild-goose chase like this!"
The rest of the journey to the cove was performed almost in silence;
they then embarked, heartily tired with their walk, and ready enough to
take the rest of the burden of their journey on their hands and arms by
rowing steadily and well, the tide being in their favour.
"Yes, I do hate these jobs," said the master after a long silence. "See
that the people was nodding and winking to one another as we went by
their cottages?"
"Yes, I did see something of the kind once or twice," replied Archy.
"Laughing at us, and knowing we should find out nothing, while they knew
all the time."
The first thing plainly visible as the boat approached the cutter was
the head of Tally gazing contemplatively at them over the side, as if
anxious to know what news there was from home, and directly after Ram
and Jemmy looked over in a quiet stolid way, as if not troubled in the
least by the fact that they were prisoners.
"Well, Mr Raystoke," cried the lieutenant, as the young midshipman
sprang over the side; "found the cargo and left two men in charge, eh?"
"No, sir."
"Tut--tut--tut! What is the use of having you for my first officer.
You ought to have searched everywhere, and found it."
"We did search everywhere, sir, nearly, but didn't find it."
"Oh! What's that? Nearly? Then where didn't you search?"
Archy told him and his reasons.
"Humph! Ha! Well, I don't know: Government has no bowels of
compassion, Mr Raystoke. I'm afraid you ought to have searched the
Gloves."
"Hoze, sir, Hoze."
"Oh well, gloves, hose, gloves, all the same; only one's for downstairs,
the other up. Stupid name for a place."
"You think, then, I haven't done my duty, sir."
"Yes, Mr Raystoke, as an officer I do; but as a gentleman I'm afraid I
think I should have done just the same."
"I'm very sorry, sir. I wanted to do what is right."
"And you let your amiability step in the way, sir. That cargo must be
run to earth."
"But is it quite certain, sir, that there was a cargo run?"
"My good fellow," cried the little lieutenant impatiently, "if you found
a skin lying on the beach, wouldn't you feel sure that it had once had a
sheep in it?"
"Yes, sir, if it was a sheepskin."
"Bah! Don't try to chop logic here; go below and get something to eat,
while I make up my mind what I shall do."
Archy went into the cabin, not at all satisfied with the result of his
run ashore, and he did not feel much better after his meal, when he went
on deck just in time to find the lieutenant laying down the law to Ram
and Jemmy Dadd.
"There," he was saying, "take your cow and go ashore. I'm not going to
keep you prisoners, but the eye of the law is upon you, and this
smuggling will be brought home to you both. Be off!"
"Shan't Jemmy milk the cow again before we go?" said Ram, with a grin,
that might have been friendly or mocking.
"No!" thundered the lieutenant. "Here, Mr Gurr, see these smuggling
scoundrels off the deck."
This was soon done, the cow being easily got into the boat, and just as
it was growing dark Ram stood up to push from the side.
"I say," he cried again, addressing Archy, "is that thing sharp?"
The midshipman did not condescend to answer, but stood gazing
thoughtfully over the side, till the boat gradually seemed to die away
in the faint mist of the coming night.
"Well, Raystoke, what are you thinking?" said a voice behind him, and he
started round.
"I was just thinking of coming to you, sir."
"Eh, what for?"
"It seems to me, sir, that if that cargo was run, and is hidden anywhere
near, they'll be moving it to-night."
"Of course. Raystoke, you'll be a great man some day. I shouldn't have
thought of that. Well, what do you propose?"
"To go ashore, and watch."
"Of course. My dear boy, if you can help me to capture a few of these
wretched people, I shall get promoted to a better ship, and you shall
come with me. I won't rest till I am post-captain, and as soon as you
can pass, you shall be my lieutenant. There, select your crew and be
off at once."
"No, sir; that will not do. They'll be on the watch, and if they see a
boat's crew land, they'll do nothing to-night."
"Then what do you propose?"
"Don't laugh at me, sir, and call me stupid; but I've been thinking that
if I could be set ashore, dressed as one of the boys, I might go about
unnoticed. And if they were moving the cargo, I could see where they
took it, and then you could land the men."
"Oh, you'll be an admiral before I shall, boy. That's it; but will you
do it?"
"If you'll let me, sir."
"Let you? Here, Mr Gurr, help Mr Raystoke, and--stop though; I don't
think I can let you go alone, my lad."
"If I don't go alone, sir, it's of no use."
"You are right. Then we'll risk it; but if the smugglers kill you,
don't come and blame me. Have the boat ready, Mr Gurr. Here,
Raystoke, come down into the cabin at once."
CHAPTER TEN.
Half an hour after, a dirty-looking sailor lad slipped down into the
boat, with his worsted cap pulled well down over his eyes, and an
uncomfortable feeling about his chest, as he sat back in the
stern-sheets by Gurr the master.
"Lay your backs well into it, my lads," said the lieutenant, "and try
and land him without being seen."
"Ay, ay, sir!" came from the men, the boat began to surge through the
still water, and the boy tried to shift the lion's head which formed the
top of his dirk handle.
This he had placed inside the breast of his woollen shirt, ready for use
if wanted, but it promised to hurt him more than any enemy, and he
wished he had left it on board.
"No talking, lads," said the master, "and don't splash."
The oars had been muffled, and they glided along through the faint mist,
in a ghostly way, well in the shadow of the cliffs, Gurr keeping up a
whispered conversation with the lad by his side.
"It's no use to ask you 'bout where you are going first, sir," whispered
the master, "because I suppose it will all be chance. But you'll go up
to the farm, eh?"
"Yes, I shall go there."
"And up to that big house?"
Archy was silent.
"Ah, well; it's your plan, and you must do what you think's best, only
take care of yourself, and if they're after you, don't make for the sea,
that's where they'll think you would go. Make inland for the woods, and
hide there."
Archy nodded, and no more was said during the dark journey. They were
so close to the huge wall of rocks that it seemed as if they were alive
with strange marine creatures, which kept on writhing and whispering
together, and making gasping and sucking noises, as the tide heaved and
sank among the loose rocks and seaweed, while Archy could not divest
himself of the idea that they were watched by people keeping pace with
them higher up on the top of the cliff.
"Wonder whether those two have landed the cow by this time?" whispered
Gurr, breaking in upon one of Archy's reveries, in which he saw himself
following a band of smugglers laden with contraband goods.
"I don't know," he replied. "We must take care they do not see us."
"Not likely on a dark night like this. Won't be so foggy, though, as
'twas last."
Nothing was seen or heard of the late prisoners' boat, and for very good
reasons; and at last they found themselves abreast of the opening into
the cove, where they lay upon their oars for a time listening.
All was still. Not a sound to be heard on either of the luggers lying
at their buoys, and no light was visible at the cottages at the head of
the little bay.
"I might venture now," whispered Archy. "Have me rowed close in to the
shingle beach on the right, not close ashore, but so that I can wade in.
I shall drop over the side where it's about two feet deep. Let them
back in and we can try the depth with the boat-hook."
The order was whispered, the boat glided in through the broad opening,
was turned quickly, and then the men backed water till told to stop,
Archy, who had the boat-hook over the side, suddenly finding it touch
the shingly bottom at the depth of about a foot.
"Good-bye," he whispered, and, gliding over the side, he softly waded
ashore and stood on the beach.
It looked light in front, where the limestone rocks had given place to
chalk, but to right, left, and seaward, all was black as night, and
stepping cautiously along, the lad approached the cottages, listening
attentively, but not hearing a sound save the gurgling of water as it
trickled under the stones on its way to the sea.
As he reached the track leading past the cottages he had a narrow escape
from falling over a boat that was drawn up on the stones, but he saved
himself with a jerk; and, feeling hot with the sudden start, he turned
and crouched down, but there was not a sound to indicate that he had
been heard, and drawing a long breath he stepped on to reach the hard
earth where his feet were not among the water-worn pebbles, and in a few
minutes he was on the road he had traversed twice that day, and walking
fast toward the farm.
Once or twice he hesitated, for the way lay so low down in the valley,
with the hills towering up to such a height on either side, that the
night seemed as dark as during the fog of the previous night; but he got
along over the ground pretty well in spite of its seeming more hilly and
rough, till at the end of about an hour and a half he felt that he must
be approaching the farm, and he advanced more cautiously, listening for
footsteps and voices from time to time.
There was a good broad green marge to the lane about here, and he
stepped on to it, the turf deadening his footsteps.
"But I don't recollect seeing this grass in the morning," he thought;
and then he stopped short, for it suddenly occurred to him that he had
not come upon the cluster of houses where the people smiled and nodded
at one another as they passed.
"I can't have trailed off into another road, can I?" he said to himself,
as he felt quite startled and turned hot.
He looked round, but it was too dark to make out anything, and he was
about to start on again, comforting himself with the idea that he must
be right, when he heard at a distance the _pat-pat_ of feet on hard
ground, and drew back close up to the side to stoop down among some
brambles, which told him at once after their fashion what they were.
"If I only dared ask whoever this is," thought Archy, "I should do."
His thoughts took another direction directly, for, apparently about
twenty yards away, he heard some one sneeze, and then mutter
impatiently, followed by another sneeze.
And all the while the regular _pat-pat_ of footsteps came from his
right, but not as he had come, for the sound was as if some one was
approaching by a road which came at right angles to the one he was in.
Archy crouched there, breathless and listening, wondering who the man
could be who was perfectly silent now, but he had not moved away unless
the turf had silenced his footprints.
"How lucky it was I stopped!" thought the midshipman. "I should have
walked right on to him and been caught."
The steps came nearer, and at last it seemed as if they were going to
pass on, when a gruff voice from close by said,--
"Well, lad?"
There was a sudden stoppage, and an exclamation, and--
"Made me jump, master."
"Don't talk foolery," said the first voice in impatient tones, and to
Archy it was unmistakable. He had heard both voices before. "What have
you made out?"
"Nothing."
"No boat landed?"
"Nor no sign o' one, master. Both lads swear as no one has passed along
the lane."
"Wouldn't take the upper lane, would they?"
"Not likely."
"Upper lane!" thought Archy. Had he taken the upper lane in the
darkness, and so missed the men on the watch?
"Didn't hear the sailors say nothing on the cutter, did you?"
"Not a word."
The middy's heart seemed to give a throb. He did know that voice then.
It was that of the man who had been detained with the boy, and this
other, he was sure, was the voice of the farmer.
"Going to keep on watching?"
"Of course. They'll be up to some game to trap us safe. Ought to get
that stuff away."
"No, I wouldn't, master; it's safe enough now."
"You're a fool," came back in a savage growl. "Anybody but you and that
mole-eyed boy would have seen the kegs before them sailors."
"Did see 'em--when it was too late," grumbled the other.
"Well, go back; and take off them boots, and hang 'em round your neck.
I could hear you a mile away."
"Right."
"Go and tell 'em to keep a sharp look-out in the cove, and then to run
the moment a boat comes in sight."
"No boat won't come in sight to-night. Dark."
"Then the moment you hear one."
"They won't come to-night, master."
"Go and do as I tell you," said the other savagely.
"It's the farmer and his man," thought the listener; "and there is
something wrong."
He wondered what he had better do. Should he give notice to them on the
cutter?
The answer came at once. How could he? He had made no plans for that.
"Off you go," was said roughly, and the rustling sound seemed to
indicate that the man had gone back toward the cove.
Archy listened patiently for the next movement of the farmer, but he
could detect nothing, and he was feeling sure that the man was still
watching and listening, when he heard a sneeze at a distance followed by
a muttering sound, and knew that he must have moved off.
Without a moment's hesitation the lad followed, keeping along the grassy
marge of the road, and listening intently to make out at last the dull
sound of steps, which told that the man who made them was walking
barefoot.
As far as he could judge now, Archy was in the proper road, and as he
walked along he tried to understand what was going on, coming at last to
the conclusion at which he had at first jumped, that something would be
done that night if the farmer and his people were certain that they
would not be disturbed.
As he thought he walked cautiously on, wondering what he had better do,
and seeing at last a bright light in front high up a slope, and another
away to his right much higher.
A little consideration told him that the first was at the farm; the
other high up, facing toward the sea, must be up at the Hoze.
Trusting more to chance than plan, the midshipman went on and on,
following Farmer Shackle; the task becoming easy now, for as he neared
the lights the man grew more careless, so that it was easy to trace his
movements, which were evidently homeward, till a few minutes later Archy
saw him pass the glowing window, swing open a door from which came a
burst of light, pass in, and the door was closed.
Archy stood outside with a vague belief that before long the man would
come out, and perhaps go to the spot where the cargo was hidden.
As he waited he could not help turning his eyes in the direction of the
long, solitary house in the patch of woodland, and found himself
wondering whether he should ever go up there again.
After waiting about a quarter of an hour outside the farm, with his back
against one of the roughly piled-up stone walls of the district, Archy
began to think it was very dull, and his expectations of a discovery or
an adventure grew less and less. All was very quiet at the farm, so
quiet that he determined at last to go and peer in at the window to see
if the farmer was likely to come out again, because if this were not so
he was wasting his time.
"But they are not likely to do anything without him," he thought.
Advancing cautiously, he entered the garden, and was just going up to
the window, when the door was thrown open, and he dropped down behind a
bush as the farmer strode out.
"He must see me," thought Archy. "What a position for an officer to be
in!"
"Eh?" exclaimed Shackle, turning sharply round, as if to answer his
wife. "Oh yes. Ought to have been here by now."
This gave the midshipman a moment's breathing time; and he had drawn
himself up behind the bush by the time the farmer had closed the door,
the sudden change from darkness to light preventing Shackle from seeing
the spy upon his proceedings.
Just as he was passing he stopped short, uttering an ejaculation; and
feeling that he was seen, the midshipman was about to leap up, jump over
the low wall, and run, when he heard steps.
He lay still, hoping that this might have drawn forth the exclamation,
but for the next few moments he was in agony.
Then came relief.
"That you, Ramillies?"
"Yes, father."
"Well?"
"I think it's all right. Carts are coming, and all the lads are down
the roads."
"All?"
"No. Two of 'em's down by the cove, but they won't send anybody from
the cutter to-night."
"Not so sure of it, my boy,--not so sure. Can't be too careful.
'Tain't as if we were obliged to move 'em to-night. Landing a cargo's
one thing; getting it away another. Well, we'll try. You're sure
they're keeping good watch at the cove?"
"Yes, father."
"What sort of an officer did he seem on the cutter?"
"Little, fat, sleepy chap."
"And the others?"
"Don't seem to be no others, only that cocky-hoopy middy, who came
ashore with the men. I should like to ketch him ashore some day."
One of Archy's legs gave a twitch at the first remark about him, and the
twitch occurred in his right arm at the second.
"Don't chatter. Not very sharp sort of officer, eh?"
"No, father. Sort of chap who'd go to sleep all night."
Archy began wondering. He had thought the boy a dull, stupid-looking
bumpkin, and he was finding out how observing he had been.
"Well, we'll risk it, boy. Come along."
Archy's heart gave a bound.
Here was news! He had been growing dull and disheartened, thinking that
his expedition was foolish and impossible, and here at once he had
learned what he wanted. He knew that now all he had to do was to take
advantage of every wall and tree, even to creep along the ground if
necessary, and he would be able to follow the smugglers to the place
where they had hidden the run cargo, watch them bring it out, and then
track them to the fresh hiding-place.
He would thus learn everything, and be able at daybreak to make his way
to the cliff, signal for a boat, and a grand capture would be made.
His heart beat high as he thought of the lieutenant's delight, and of
the joy there would be amongst the men, for this would mean prize-money,
and perhaps the means of deluding the vessel that had brought the cargo
into a trap, so that it could be captured, and more prize-money as well
as honour be the result.
It did not take him long to think all this; and then he rose cautiously
and dropped down again, for the door was re-opened, and the light beamed
out so that the watcher felt that he must be seen.
"That my Rammy?" cried Mrs Shackle.
"Yes," growled the farmer; "keep that door shut and your mouth too."
"But do be careful, master. I don't want him took prisoner again."
"It's all right, mother."
"Come along, boy."
Archy heard the departing steps, and began to suffer a fresh agony of
suspense. He could not stir, for the farmer's wife stood at the open
door, and the slightest movement would have caused a discovery; and all
the time he could hear the footsteps growing more and more faint.
"Oh!" he said to himself; "and it's so dark I shan't be able to tell
which way they have gone."
What should he do? Start up and run?
If he did the woman was certain to raise an alarm; and, knowing that, he
could do nothing but wait till she went in, when he might chance to pick
up the clue again.
His heart beat so loudly that he felt as if it must be heard, but Mrs
Shackle was too intent upon listening to the departing footsteps, which
grew more faint till they died out entirely, and as they passed away the
midshipman's heart sank.
"Had all my trouble for nothing," he thought. "So near success, and yet
to fail!"
"Ah, deary deary me!" said a voice from close at hand, "I'm very sick
and tired of it all. I wish he'd be content with his cows and sheep."
Mrs Shackle drew back as she said this, the door closed, and Archy
sprang up, darted out of the gateway, and hurried along the path as fast
as the darkness would allow, stopping from time to time to listen.
For a long time he could hear nothing. He was descending the slope
toward the road leading to the cove, as far as he could tell, for it
seemed to him likely that the farmer and his son had gone in that
direction; but as he went on and on, and was unable to detect a sound,
he felt that he must be wrong, and stopped short, listening intently.
"Bother the woman!" he thought; "it's all through her. They'll go and
get all the cargo from the hiding-place, and take it somewhere, and I
shall know nothing."
He bit his lip with disappointment, and gave an angry stamp on the
grass.
"I'll go back, and try some other way."
Easy to determine, but hard to carry out in the darkness, and in a place
which seemed quite changed at night. There should be a lane or track
leading down to the cliff he knew, but where it was he could not say; in
fact, at that moment, in his confusion, he could hardly tell for certain
that he was on the road leading right away to the cove.
"I may just as well be moving," he said at last despondently. "Oh, if I
could only have followed them up!"
His heart gave a bound just then, for plainly on the night air came a
dull sound, as of footsteps on grass. Then there was a whisper, and
directly after he knew that a number of people were coming quickly
toward him.
A moment or two later he heard a rattling noise, which he recognised as
that made by a horse shaking his harness, and once more Archy's heart
beat high.
There had not been time for them--if those people coming were the
smugglers--to fetch the cargo, and they must be coming in his direction.
"What shall I do?" thought the watcher; "lie down and let them pass, or
go on?"
He decided on the latter course, and finding that he was in a lane
bounded by stone walls, he went on, pausing from time to time to make
sure that he was being followed.
This proved to be the case, the people getting nearer and nearer, and it
was a curious experience to hear the whispering of voices and trampling
of feet coming out of the darkness.
"Walking on the side turf," said Archy to himself, as he kept on, to
find after a few minutes that the stone wall on his left had ceased, but
he could feel that the road went on, and heard the people coming.
A minute or two later he realised that he was going up hill; then the
slope grew steeper, and he paused again to listen.
He was quite right. They were coming on steadily, and he knew that
there must be twenty or thirty people; but he could hear no horses now.
"They've stopped at the foot of this steep place," he thought, as he
went on and on, the people still advancing fast, and all at once, as he
went on, a sudden thought ran through him like a stab. For he had
guessed at least the direction in which he was going in the black
darkness; he was once more ascending the slope toward the patch of
woodland high up the hill, and the place of deposit of the smuggled
goods must be the Hoze.
CHAPTER ELEVEN.
A feeling of misery that he could not have explained came over Archy
Raystoke as he grasped the position, and he wished that he had never
undertaken the task he had in hand.
For it seemed so shocking that the noble-looking lady and gentleman he
had seen that day should be in league with a gang of smugglers, and have
lent their out-of-the-way house to be a depository for the contraband
goods.
"Oh, it's impossible," he said to himself. "They could not. The
scoundrels have hidden the things somewhere up in the wood by the house,
thinking that nobody would come in there to search."
"The artful rascal!" said Archy to himself, feeling better now that he
had put this interpretation upon the proceedings; and, knowing his way
better now, and thinking of the dog the while, he hurried on, and had
nearly reached the house, meaning to hide somewhere among the abundant
shrubs which surrounded it till the smugglers had passed, when all doubt
as to the party being those he was tracking was chased away by his
hearing a voice just before him say,--
"All right, father. Here they come."
Archy stopped short, as he felt his position. The farmer and his son
had come up here, and were waiting for the men to act as carriers.
"What shall I do?" he asked himself, for he was between two parties, and
a step might mean discovery. In fact, if the last speaker had taken a
step forward, he must have detected the spy's presence.
There was no time for thought Archy stood for a moment or two as if
paralysed; then, as he heard the farmer's gruff voice, he dropped down,
and began to crawl among the bushes.
"Been a long time coming; here, go in and get the lanthorns now."
At that moment Archy was brought up by a wall, over which he passed his
hands, to find that he was directly after touching iron bars close to
the ground.
It was some building, and then, as he crouched there, he was conscious
of a peculiar odour, which told him not only that this was a cellar, but
one in which brandy was stored.
Again he felt a strange sensation of misery. He had accidentally hit
upon the place where the cargo had been hidden, and it must be in the
cellar of the Hoze, and not in the wood.
He wished he had not made the discovery now, and felt ready to retreat,
for it would be horrible to have to tell the lieutenant, giving him such
information as would lead to the arrest of the tall, careworn man who
had impressed him so strangely that day.
All at once he was conscious of a gleam of light, following a faint
noise, and right before him he saw the fluttering blue flame of a
brimstone match, which blue began to turn yellow and illumine the face
of the boy who had been a prisoner, and two great stacks of kegs and
bales, reaching nearly from floor to ceiling of a low vault.
The light shone out through the grated window, by which he was on hands
and knees, and feeling that he would be at once recognised if his face
was seen, he crept on under the wall a few yards, and lay flat
listening, as he wished that there was time for him to get down to the
cliff, and signal for help, to capture the smugglers and their store.
An impossibility, he knew, for the cargo might be all gone long before
he could reach the cutter, even if a boat were waiting; beside which, he
felt that he did not want to tell all he had seen, for if he did, what
would follow with respect to those he had spoken with that day?
"Now, my lads, in with you," cried a familiar voice. "Load up carefully
when you get down to the carts, and we shall get all snug before
daylight."
A murmur of acquiescence followed, and they began to tramp very close to
where the midshipman lay, expecting every moment to be seen.
He crouched down as low as he could, not daring to raise even his head,
and wondering whether the bright hilt of his dirk would show, and he
thrust it farther into his breast. Then he wondered whether he could
back softly away; but that was impossible, for the light came from
behind him, through the grated window, while escape forward was
impossible, as he was close to a door through which shadowy forms were
passing in.
There was nothing for it but to lie still, and trust to his not being
seen, when the next minutes were made agreeable by a host of
recollections regarding the treatment received by those who betrayed
smugglers, of the desperate fights there had been, how many had been
killed, and a shudder ran through the lad as he recalled the story of a
man who had played the spy, somewhere about the south coast, being
thrown from a cliff, and literally smashed.
"They'll see me, I know they'll see me," thought Archy; "but I'm a
king's officer, young as I am, and I'll show them that I can fight for
my life like a man."
As this thought struck him, his hand went involuntarily to his side to
get a good grip of and draw his dirk.
The movement betrayed him, for, before he could quite realise that his
dirk was hidden in his breast, he was seized by two great muscular
hands, dragged into a standing position, and he could dimly see a face
peering into his, as a voice, which he recognised as the farmer's,
growled savagely--
"Who's this?"
Before he could struggle or answer, the man went on fiercely--
"Why, you lazy, shuffling, young villain! Sit there and skulk, while
the others do the work, would you? Come on!"
Before the midshipman could recover from his surprise, he felt himself
run forward by the two hands which had been dropped on his shoulders,
thrust through the door, the farmer whispering savagely, "Work, or I'll
break your neck;" and giving him a fierce push and a kick, which drove
him along a passage, where on his left was the open doorway into the
dimly lit cellar.
So great was the impetus given, that but for a desperate effort to keep
his feet, and a bound or two, the lad would have gone down upon his
face.
As it was, the actual first leap took him level with the door of the
cellar, the second right on to a flight of steps beyond in the darkness,
and as he stood panting there, he realised the meaning of the old
smuggler's mistake; for he had forgotten that he was roughly dressed as
a sailor boy, and had a red worsted tasselled cap, well drawn-down over
his besmirched face.
As Archy stood there in the darkness, at the foot of the stair which he
knew must lead up into the house, he looked back to see a man come out
of the cellar, his figure just dimly seen by the light from within and
below, and over the man's shoulders were swung a couple of kegs.
Archy held his breath, and felt that in all probability the farmer had
contented himself with driving him in to work, for he made no further
movement, and the coming out of this man, and another who followed
directly, completely reassured him. It was evident, too, that they did
not know of his presence, and with his heart beating with hopes of
escape, as he more and more understood that he had been taken for one of
the boys of the gang, he backed softly up the steps, more and more into
the darkness, till further progress was stayed by a door.
Here he stopped, panting, and holding his hand upon his throbbing heart.
Then feeling that he would be seen directly if a lanthorn were brought
into the passage, he pressed the lock, it yielded, and he stepped softly
up on to a stone floor.
Here all was blacker than before, but it was a haven of refuge, and he
passed in and softly closed the door behind him, to stand listening.
All was still as death, and he began to ask himself what he should do
next. He dared not stay where he was, for if the smugglers were so much
at home at the Hoze that they could come like this by night, the farmer
or some one else might at any moment come up those steps with a light,
and then discovery was certain.
But what to do? A closet--a room--a staircase--an open window leading
in another direction to that where the men were busy! If he could find
any of these he might be safe, and he was about to try and search for
some means of concealment or escape when a cold shudder of superstitious
dread ran through him, and he began to recall all he had read of haunted
houses, for from somewhere in the darkness in front of him, he heard a
low, piteous cry.
Archy was as courageous as most boys of his age, as he was proving by
his adventurous acts; but this sound, heard by a lad living in a
generation wanting in our modern enlightenment, paralysed him. His
blood seemed to run cold, his lips parted, his throat felt dry, and a
peculiar shiver ran over his skin, accompanied by a sensation as if tiny
fingers, cold as ice, were parting and turning his hair.
Again the sigh came, to be followed by a cold current of air, which
swept across the boy's face, and then there was a low rustling sound,
which hovered in front of him, and went up and up and up, and then
slowly died away.
Archy's first impulse, as he recovered himself a little in the silence
which followed, was to turn, open the door, and flee. But he hesitated.
It would be right into the hands of the enemy. Besides, the terribly
chilling sounds he had heard had ceased, and he felt less cowardly.
"Perhaps," he said to himself, "it was fancy, or nothing to be afraid
of."
A heavy step on the other side of the door alarmed him more, and
stretching out his hands, he stepped forward, went cautiously on and on,
and at the end of a few yards touched what felt like panelling. The
next moment he realised that he had reached a door, which was yielding,
and he passed into a room, to scent the cool night air, and hear subdued
sounds without and below.
He was in a room over the cellar, he was sure, and the window was wide
open. He crept to it, guided by the cold air which came in, and had
just reached it when he heard rapid footsteps, and some one panted,--
"Where's the skipper?"
"Here. What is it?" whispered Shackle, who seemed close to where the
midshipman stood.
"Jemmy Dadd--came from the cove. Boat's crew landed."
"Run down and tell them all to come back," said Shackle hoarsely.
"I did, and they're coming. I met first man."
"Right! Get all back in quick!"
As he finished speaking, Archy could hear the dull, soft steps of laden
men returning, and more and more kept coming, and it was soon evident
that they were quickly and silently replacing the kegs they had been
carrying down hill to where tumbrils were waiting for a load.
The midshipman stood a little way back from the window, seeing nothing,
but drinking all this in, and in imagination grasping the whole scene
which went on for the next quarter of an hour or so, by which time the
last load seemed to have been brought back.
As he listened, he wondered what boat's crew it could be that had
landed, as no arrangement had been made for any help to be sent till he
either signalled from the cliff or went down to the cove at twelve the
next day, where a boat would be about half a mile out, with two men in
her fishing.
He could not understand it; all he could tell for certain was that the
smugglers had been alarmed, and that they would not remove the cargo
that night, for all at once he heard the sharp snap of a great lock
beneath his feet; this was followed by the closing of a door, and
directly after there was the shuffling of feet, and Shackle's voice was
heard in a hoarse whisper,--
"Got the lanthorn, boy?"
"Yes, father."
"Off you go then--all. Scatter!"
"You won't try again to-night?"
"Try? No," said the farmer savagely. "Wish I had some of them here!"
There were retiring steps then, and Archy leaned forward towards the
window, to utter a faint cry of pain, for his head had come in contact
with something, and as he put up his hand he found that the window was
protected by thick iron bars.
He stood listening till not a sound could be heard, and then he drew
back from the window, thinking about his next course, gazing out into
the darkness the while, and wishing he could have stepped out, leaped
down, and fled at once.
"Made our plans badly," he thought to himself. "I can't signal even if
I could find my way to the cliff, and I ought to be able to get back
here at once to seize all this store, and--"
More unpleasant thoughts came back now about how hard it seemed to have
to betray these people.
"Can't help it," he said to himself. "I am a king's officer, and I've
got to do my duty."
Then to keep these thoughts from troubling him, he began to think again
about the cutter.
They never expected that he would get valuable information so soon. He
had been wonderfully fortunate, but what was to be his next course?
Certainly to get back to the ship as soon as possible, but that was not
possible till morning, and he was miles away from the cove.
What should he do? Two hours would be plenty for the work, and as he
guessed it was not much past twelve now. How was he to pass all those
weary hours? If he could find some barn or even a haystack he would not
have cared, but it seemed to him that he would have to pass the
remainder of the night in walking, and watching so that he did not
encounter any of the smuggler gang on his way back and so raise their
suspicions.
Better be off at once. Perhaps, after all, he thought as by an
inspiration, the lieutenant had altered his plans, and was sending men
to look after and protect him.
"Let's see," said Archy to himself. "I must go out of this door, and
keep turning a little to the right till I feel the door at the top of
the stairs."
Suppose any one should hear him, take him for a thief, and fire at him?
Suppose that door at the end of the passage had been locked by the
smugglers?
It seemed so probable, that a nervous feeling attacked the lad. He
would be a prisoner, and discovered by the inmates in the morning.
He would soon put that to the proof, he told himself; and he was about
to step cautiously back toward the door when another thought sent a
shudder through him.
Suppose as soon as he got into the hall, or whatever place it was, he
should hear that sigh again and the rustling sound?
He shrank back as he recalled how it had affected him.
"Oh, what a coward I am!" he said softly; and he took a step forward,
where very faintly, as if far distant, he heard the rustling sound
again. It came nearer and nearer, then there was a low sigh, the door
was pushed open, for the rustling came quite plainly now, accompanied by
a faint breathing.
The door closed with a soft dull sound as Archy stood as if turned into
stone, his hair again feeling as if moved by hands, and he would have
spoken, but no words would come.
At last, as he stood there in front of the window, terrified too much to
stir, he suddenly heard a faint sound as of catching breath, and a voice
said in a hurried, frightened whisper,--
"Who's there? Is that you, Ram?"
Archy tried to speak but could not. Before he could draw a breath of
relief, feeling as he did that this was nothing of which he need feel
such fear, the voice said again,--
"You are trying to frighten me. I can see you plainly there by the
window. How dare you come in here like this, sir? Go back home with
your horrid men."
CHAPTER TWELVE.
"You are making a mistake," said Archy softly.
"Oh!"
There was a cry and a quick rustling toward the door.
"Don't--don't cry out; I did not come to frighten you."
"Who are you?"
"I am from the cutter lying off the coast. You saw me and spoke to me
to-day when the dog came at me."
There was a low wailing sound which troubled the midshipman, and he said
quickly,--
"Can you not believe me? I did not come to frighten you; you frightened
me."
"Then, why are you here? How dare you break into our house. Oh, I
know! I know!"
"Don't cry," he said. "I was obliged to come. It was by accident I
came into this room. I was trying to find out about the smugglers."
"And--and--you have not found out anything?" came in quick, frightened
tones.
Archy was silent.
"Why don't you speak, sir?"
"What am I to say? I am on duty. Yes, I have found out all I wanted to
know."
"Ah!" came again out of the darkness, in a low wailing tone.
"I wish you would believe me, that I am in as great trouble about it as
you are."
"But your men. They are close here, then, and they frightened these
people away."
"I suppose so. I don't know," said Archy.
"Don't they know that you are here?"
"No."
"But you will go and tell all you have found out?"
"Yes," said Archy, slowly as he strained his eyes to try and make out
the speaker.
"That my father, Sir Risdon Graeme, has smuggled goods here?"
"What else can I do?" replied Archy sadly.
There was a sound of breath being drawn sharply through the teeth, and
then the voice seemed changed as the next words came,--
"Do you know what this means?"
Archy was silent.
"They will put him in prison, and--and--"
There was a low burst of sobbing, and the young midshipman felt his own
breast swell.
Suddenly the sobbing ceased, and the girl said slowly,--
"You shall not tell. It is not my father's doing. He could not help
it. He hates the smugglers. You shall not tell. Pray, pray, say you
will not!"
Archy was silent.
"Do you not hear me?" came in imperious tones.
"Yes, I hear you," he replied; "but it is my duty, and--"
"Yes--yes--speak!"
"I must."
"Oh!"
The interjection came as if it were the outcome of sudden passion.
There was a quick, rustling sound, and before the boy could realise what
was to come, the door was closed, the lock shot into its socket, and he
heard the grinding sound of bolts, top and bottom.
Then, as Archy stood in the dark, literally aghast with astonishment, he
heard the faint rustling once more, and again all was silent.
"Well!" he exclaimed; "and I felt sorry for her as one might for one's
sister at home, and hung back from getting her people into trouble. Of
all the fierce little tartars! Oh, it's beyond anything! Why, she has
locked me up!"
He laughed, but it was a curious kind of laugh, full of vexation,
injured _amour propre_, as the French call our love of our own dignity,
of which Archibald Raystoke, in the full flush of his young belief in
his importance as a British officer, had a pretty good stock.
"I never did!" he exclaimed, after standing listening for a few minutes
to see if the girl would repent and return. "It all comes of dressing
up in this stupid way, like a rough fisher-lad. If I had been in
uniform, she would not have dared."
Cold water came on this idea directly, as he recalled the fact that the
darkness was intense, and Celia could not have seen him.
"And I meant to save them from trouble if I could, out of respect for
them all, and did not believe that such people could stoop to be mixed
up with rogues and smugglers. But, all right! I've got my duty to do,
and I'll do it. I'll soon show them that I am not going to be played
with. Looked such a nice, lady-like girl, and all the time she's a
female smuggler, and must have been sitting up to let them in, and lock
up after the rascals had done."
Rather hard measure, by the way, to deal out to the anxious girl, who
could not rest while Shackle's gang were busy about the place, and had
come stealthily down to open the little corner room window, and watch
from time to time until they had gone.
"Well," said Archy, as there was no further sound heard, "I'm not going
to put up with this. I'll soon rattle some one up;" and he went sharply
to the door, felt for the handle, tried it, and was about to shake it
and bang at the panels, when discretion got the better of valour.
For it suddenly occurred to him that he was not only a prisoner, but a
prisoner in the power of a very reckless set of people, who would stop
at nothing. They had a valuable cargo hidden in the cellar beneath
where he stood, and themselves to save, and naturally they would not
hesitate to deal hardly with him, when quite a young, apparently gentle
girl treated him as she had done.
"No," he thought to himself, "I don't believe they would kill me, but
they would knock me about."
On the whole, he decided that it would not be pleasant to be knocked
about. The kick he had received was a foretaste of what he might
expect, and after a little consideration he came to the conclusion that
his duty was to escape, and get back to the cutter as quickly as he
could.
To do this he must scheme, lie hid till morning, then make for the
nearest point, and signal for help, unless a boat's crew were already
searching for him.
How to escape?
The door was, he well knew, fast. The window was barred, but he went to
it, and tried the bars one by one, to find them all solidly fitted into
the stone sill.
Perhaps there was another way out, and to prove that he went softly
round to feel the oak panelling which covered the walls, to come upon a
door directly. His hopes began to rise, but they fell directly, for he
found it was a closet.
Next moment, as he felt his way about, his hand touched an old-fashioned
marble mantelpiece.
Fireplace--chimney! Yes, if other ways failed, he could escape up the
chimney.
No, that was too bad. He could not do that. And if he did, it would
only be to reach the roof of the house, and perhaps find no way down.
He went on, and found a closet to match the first on the other side of
the fireplace. Then all round the room. Panels everywhere, but no
means of escape, and he went again to stand at the window, to bemoan his
stupidity for allowing a weak girl to make a prisoner of him in so
absurd a way.
Sympathy and pity for the dwellers in the Hoze were completely gone now,
and he set his teeth fast, and mentally called himself a weak idiot for
ever thinking about such people. For the first few minutes he had felt
something uncommonly like alarm, and had dwelt upon the consequences to
himself if the smugglers found the spy upon their proceedings; but that
dread had passed away in the idea that he had to do his duty, and before
he could do that he must escape.
A chair or two. Then an easy-chair. A narrow table against the wall in
two places. An awkwardly-shaped high-backed chair with elbows and
cushions. A thick carpet in the centre. Nothing else in the room, as
far as he could make out in the darkness, and if those wretched bars had
only been away, how soon he could have escaped!
He went and tried to force his head through, recalling as he did that
where a person's head would go the rest of the body would pass. But
there was no chance for his body there, the head would not go first.
He returned, after listening intently, unable to hear a sound, and put
his ear to the key-hole of the door to listen there; but all was still,
and the faint hope that the girl might be near and open to an appeal for
his liberty died away.
Again he felt all about the room, to satisfy himself afresh that there
was no way out, and he paused by the chimney, half disposed to essay
that means of escape, but he shook his head.
"A fellow who was shut up in prison for life might do it," he said, "but
not in a case like this."
Then, utterly wearied out, with his long and arduous twenty-four hours'
task, beginning with his watch on the cutter's deck, he felt his way to
the big chair opposite to the window to rest his legs, and try and think
out some plan.
"Nobody can think well when he's tired," he said; and he began to run
over in his mind the whole of the incidents since he landed a few hours
earlier.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN.
"Sure you've looked round everywhere, boy?"
"Yes, father, quite."
"Nothing left nowhere? Sure none of the lads chucked anything aside the
path when they ran up?"
"Yes, father. I looked well both sides."
"Humph! Worse lads than you if you knew where to find 'em."
"Thank ye, father."
"I'm going home to breakfast."
"Shall I come too, father?"
"No. Stop here till Sir Risdon comes down, and tell him I'm very sorry;
that we should have cleared out last night, only a born fool saw Jerry
Nandy's lobster-boat coming into the cove, and came running to say it
was a party from the cutter."
"Yes, father."
"Tell him not to be uneasy; 'tis all right, and I'll have everything
clear away to-night."
The dull sound of departing steps, and a low whistling sound coming down
through the skylight window into the cabin where Archy Raystoke lay with
his heavy eyelids pressed down by sleep.
"What a queer dream!" he thought to himself. "No; it couldn't be a
dream. He must be awake. But how queer for Mr Gurr to be talking like
that to Andrew Teal, the boy who helped the cook! And why did Andy call
Mr Gurr father?"
There was an interval of thinking over this knotty question, during
which the low whistling went on.
"If Mr Brough goes on deck and catches that boy whistling, there'll be
someone to pay and no pitch hot," thought Archy nautically. "But what
did Mr Gurr mean about going home to breakfast? And I'm hungry too.
Time I was up, I suppose."
He gave himself a twist, and was about to turn out of his sleeping
place, and then opened his eyes widely, and stared about him, too much
overcome still by his heavy sleep to quite comprehend why it was that he
was in a gloomy, oak-panelled, poorly furnished room, staring at an
iron-barred open window.
No: he was not dreaming, for he was looking out on the sea, over which a
faint mist hung like wreaths of smoke. It was just before sunrise too,
for there were flecks of orange high up in the sky.
What did it mean?
The answer came like a flash. He recollected it all now, even to his
sitting down in the chair, wearied out.
He had been fast asleep, and those words had awakened him.
What did they say?--false alarm--tell Sir Risdon they would clear all
away to-night--see if anything had been left about--lobster-boat!
Then no boat had come from the cutter last night, and the lieutenant
would wait for him to signal, and here he was a prisoner, with the
information--locked up--the very news the lieutenant would give anything
to know.
He jumped up from the chair feeling horribly stiff, and looked steadily
round for a way to escape before it was too late. Once out of that room
he could ran, and by daylight the smugglers dare not hunt him down.
"Oh, those bars!" he mentally exclaimed, and he was advancing toward
them, when just as he drew near, there was a rustling noise under the
window, a couple of hands seized the bars, there was a scratching of
boot-toes against stone work, and Ram's face appeared to gaze into the
room by intention, but into the astonished countenance of the young
midshipman instead.
Ram was the first to recover from his surprise.
"Hullo!" he said, "who are you? I was wondering why that window was
open."
"Here, quick! Go round and open the door. I was shut in last night by
mistake."
"Oh!" said Ram looking puzzled. "I saw you last night, and wondered
whose boy you was. It was you father kicked for shirking, and--My!--
well: I hardly knowed you."
"Nonsense! Come round and open the door. I've been shut in all night."
"Won't do," said Ram grinning. "Think I don't know you, Mr Orficer?
Where's your fine clothes and your sword? Here, what made you dress up
like that?"
"You're mistaken," said Archy gruffly, as he made a feeble struggle to
keep up the character he had assumed.
"Won't do," said Ram quickly. "I know you. Been playing the spy,
that's what you've been doing. Who locked you in?"
"Will you come round and open the door?" said Archy in an angry whisper.
"Oh, of course," replied the boy grinning; and he dropped down, rushed
through the bushes, and disappeared from view.
Archy stepped back to the door listening, but there was not a sound.
"He has gone to give the alarm," thought the prisoner, and he looked
excitedly round for a way of escape.
Nothing but the chimney presented itself. The door was too strong to
attack, and he remembered the three fastenings.
Should he try the chimney?
And be stuck there, and dragged out like a rabbit by the hind legs from
his hole!
"No; I've degraded myself enough," he said angrily, "and there are sure
to be bars across. Hah!"
A happy inspiration had come, and placing one hand upon his breast, he
thrust in the other, gave a tug, and drew out his little curved dirk,
glanced at the edge, ran to the window and began to cut at one of the
bars.
Labour in vain. He divided the paint, and produced a few squeaks and
grating sounds, as he realised that the attempt was madness.
Turning sharply, he looked about the room; then, after glancing ruefully
at the bright little weapon, halfway up the blade of a rich deep blue,
in which was figured a pattern in gold, he yielded to necessity, and
began to chop at the top bar of the grate, so as to nick the edges of
his weapon and make it saw-like.
The result was not very satisfactory, but sufficiently so to make him
essay the bar of the window once more, producing a grating,
ear-assailing sound, as he found that now he did make a little
impression,--so little though, that the probability was, if he kept on
working well for twenty-four hours, he would not get through.
But at the end of five minutes he stopped, and thrust back the dirk into
its sheath.
He fancied he had heard steps outside the room door, and he ran to it
and listened, in the faint hope that the boy might have come to open it
and set him free.
It was a very faint hope, and one he felt not likely to be realised, and
he returned once more to the window, with the intention of resuming his
task, when he heard the bushes pressed aside by some one coming, and
directly after the bars were seized as before. Ram sprang up, found a
resting-place for his toes, and looked in, grinning at him.
"Hullo!" he cried, in a whisper, as if he did not wish to be heard;
"here you are still."
"Yes. Come round and open the door."
"What'll yer give me?"
"Anything I can," cried Archy eagerly.
"Well, you give me that little sword o' your'n."
"No; I can't part with that."
"Ha! Ha! Ha!" laughed the boy jeeringly.
"But I'll--yes, I'll give you a guinea, if you will let me out."
"Guinea?" said the boy. "Think I'd do it for a guinea?"
"Well, then, two. Be quick, there's a good fellow. I want to get away
at once."
"Not you," said the boy jeeringly. "It would be a pity. I say, do you
know what you look like?"
"A fisher-boy."
"Not you. Only a sham. Why, your clothes don't fit you, and your cap's
put on all skew-rew. Don't look a bit like a fisher-lad, and never
will."
"Never mind about that; let me out of this place."
"What for?" cried Ram.
"Because I want my liberty."
"Not you. Looks comf'table enough as you are. I say, do you know what
you are like now?"
"I told you, a fisher-boy!" cried Archy impatiently, but trying not to
offend his visitor, who possessed the power of conferring freedom, by
speaking sharply.
"Not you. Look like a wild beast in a cage. Like a monkey."
"You insolent--"
Archy checked himself, and the boy laughed.
"It was your turn yesterday, it's mine to-day. What a game! You
laughed and fleered at me when I was on the cutter's deck. I can laugh
and fleer at you now. I say, you do look a rum 'un. Just like a big
monkey in a show."
"Look here, sir!" said Archy, losing his temper. "Gentlemen don't fight
with low, common fellows like you, but if you do not come round and let
me out, next time we meet I'll have a bit of rope's-end ready for you."
Ram showed his white teeth, as he burst out with a long, low fit of
laughter.
"You rope's-end me!" he said. "Why, I could tie you up in a knot, and
heave you off the cliff any day. What a game! Bit of a middy, fed on
salt tack and weevilly biscuit, talk of giving me rope's-end! Dressed
up with a dirty face and a bit o' canvas! Go back aboard, and put on
your uniform. Ha! Ha! Ha!"
"Once more; will you come and let me out?"
"No. I'm going to keep you here till the gentlefolks get up, and then
I'll bring 'em round to see the monkey in his cage, just like they do in
the shows, when you pay a penny. See you for nothing, middy. I say,
where's your sword? Why don't you draw it, and come out and fight?
I'll fight you with a stick."
"You insolent young scoundrel!" cried Archy, darting his hand through
between the bars, overcome now by his rage, and catching Ram by the
collar.
To his astonishment the boy did not flinch, but thrust his own arms
through, placing them about the middy's waist, clenching his hands
behind, and uttering a sharp whistle.
It was a trap, and the midshipman understood it now. The boy had been
baiting him to rouse him to attack, and he was doubly a prisoner now,
held fast against the bars, so that he could not even wrench round his
head as he heard the door behind him opened, while as he opened his
mouth to cry for help, a great rough hand was placed over his eyes,
pressing his head back, a handkerchief was jammed between his teeth, and
as he heard a deep growling voice say, "Hold him tight!" a rope was
drawn about his chest, pinioning his arms to his sides, and another
secured his ankles.
"Now a handkerchief," said the gruff voice. "Fold it wide. Be ready!"
The midshipman gave his head a jerk, but the effort was vain, for the
hand over his eyes gave place to a broad handkerchief, which was tightly
tied behind, and then a fierce voice whispered in his ear,--
"Keep still, or you'll get your weasand slit. D'ye hear?"
But in spite of the threat the lad, frenzied now by rage and excitement,
struggled so hard that a fresh rope was wound round him, and he was
lifted up by two men, and carried away.
By this time there was a strange singing in his ears, a feeling as if
the blood was flooding his eyes, a peculiar, hot, suffocating feeling in
his breast, and then he seemed to go off into a painful, feverish sleep,
for he knew no more.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN.
Angry, but trembling with dread, Celia had hurried up to her own room,
to try and think what was best to be done. She had secured the door of
the room below to gain time, feeling as she did that, as the young
midshipman knew of the storing of the smuggled goods, he would, the
moment he was free, go back to the cutter, bring help, there would
perhaps be a desperate fight, with men killed, and her father would be
dragged away to prison.
Her first thought was to go to her father, but she shrank from doing
this as her mother would probably be asleep, and in her delicate state
the alarm might seriously affect her.
Having grown learned in the ways of the smugglers, from their having on
several occasions made use of the great vault without asking
permission--at times when Sir Risdon was away from home--Celia had sat
up to watch that night to see if the men would fetch away the kegs and
bales; hence her presence during the scene, and when she had awakened to
the fact that the midshipman had played spy and was ready to denounce
her father, she felt that all was over.
Three times over, after listening at the head of the stairs for sounds
from below where her prisoner was confined, Celia had crept on tiptoe to
her father's door, only to shrink away again not daring to speak.
For what would he say to her? She thought. She had no right to be
downstairs watching the acts of the smugglers, and she dreaded to make a
confession of her knowledge of these nocturnal proceedings.
At last, bewildered, anxious, and worn-out, she knelt down by her bed,
to consider with her head in her hands, ready for kindly nature to bring
her comfort, for when she started up again the sun was streaming
brightly in at her window.
She pressed her hands to her temples, and tried to think about the
business of the past night, and by degrees she collected her thoughts,
and recalled that the smugglers had come to take up their kegs and bales
from the temporary store to carry them further inland, that she had
discovered the young midshipman watching, and to save her father she had
shut their enemy in the lower corner room.
Celia stood with her cheeks burning, trembling and anxious, and after
bathing her face and arranging her hair, she went out into the broad
passage and listened at her father's door.
It was too soon for him to be stirring yet, and determining at last to
go and declare his innocency, and make an appeal to the frank-looking
lad, she crept timidly down the grand old flight of stairs, trying to
think out what she would say.
There were two flights to descend, and the first took a long time; but
she worked out a nice little speech, in which she would tell the
cutter's officer that her father had once been rich, but he had espoused
the young Pretender's cause, and the result had been that he had become
so impoverished that there had been a time when they had had hardly
enough to keep them and the old maid-servant who still clung to their
fallen fortunes.
By the time she was at the bottom of the second flight she was ready and
quite hopeful, and, with the tears standing in her eyes, she felt sure
that the frank, gentlemanly lad would be merciful, forgive her, and save
her father from a terrible disgrace.
She had, then, her speech all ready, but when she spoke everything was
condensed in the one exclamation--
"Oh!"
For as she reached the hall where her coming and going had so startled
the midshipman in the darkness, she found that the door was wide open
and the window shut.
She looked about bewildered, but there was no sign of the room having
been occupied.
"Did I dream it all?" she said in an awe-stricken whisper. "No: the men
came to take away the brandy and silk, and I saw them here."
She pressed her hands to her temples, for the surprise had confused her,
and in addition her head ached and throbbed.
"Could I have dreamed it?" she asked herself again. "No, I remember the
men coming to fetch away the things and then I found him watching."
She stood gazing before her, with her puzzled feeling increasing, till a
thought struck her.
She saw the men come to fetch the kegs. If she really did see that, the
kegs would be gone.
The proof was easy. If the brandy and silk were gone, the door of the
vault would be open. If the things were not fetched away, it would be
locked up; and if she tapped on the door with her knuckles, there would
be a dull sound instead of a hollow, echoing noise.
She ran quickly down, and the door was locked.
She tapped with her knuckles, and the sound indicated that the place was
full, for all was dull and heavy and no reverberation in the place.
"I must have dreamed it all," she cried joyously. "I have thought so
much about it that I have fancied all this, and made myself ill. Why,
of course he could not have got in there to watch or the men would have
seen him come."
It is very easy to place faith in that which you wish to believe.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN.
Lieutenant brough was out for a long walk. That is to say, he had his
glass tucked under his arm, and was trotting up and down his cleanly
holystoned deck, pausing from time to time to raise his glass to his
eye, and watch the top of the cliff, ending by gazing in the direction
of the cove.
The men said he had been putting them through their facings that
morning, and he had been finding more fault in two hours than in the
previous week, for he was getting fidgety. He had not enjoyed his
breakfast, and it was getting on toward the time for his mid-day meal.
Suddenly he stopped short by the master, who had also been using a
glass, and was evidently waiting to be spoken to.
"Seemed in good spirits last night, Mr Gurr, eh?"
"Mr Raystoke, sir? Oh yes."
"I mean liked his job?"
"Yes, sir; determined on it."
"Humph! Time we had some news of him, eh?"
"Yes, sir; but he may turn up on the cliff at any moment."
"Yes. Men quite ready?"
"Yes, sir."
"That's right. Of course, well-armed?"
"Yes, sir; you did tell me. Soon as the signal comes, we shall push
off. Awkward bit o' country, sir; six miles' row before you can find a
place to land."
"Very awkward, but they have to find a place to land their spirits, Mr
Gurr, and if we don't soon have something to show we shall be called to
account."
"Very unlucky, sir. Seems to me like going eel-fishing with your bare
hand."
"Worse. You might catch one by accident."
"So shall we yet, sir. These fellows are very cunning, but we shall be
too many for them one of these days."
"Dear me! Dear me!" said the little lieutenant after a few more turns
up and down. "I don't like this at all I don't think I ought to have
let a boy like that go alone. You don't think, Mr Gurr, that they
would dare to injure him if he was so unlucky as to be caught?"
"Well, sir," said the master, hesitating, "smugglers are smugglers."
"Mr Gurr," said the little lieutenant, raising himself up on his toes,
so as to be as high as possible, "will you have the goodness to talk
sense?"
"Certainly, sir."
"Smugglers are smugglers, indeed. What did you suppose I thought they
were? Oysters?"
"Beg pardon, sir; didn't mean any harm."
"Getting very late!" said the little officer after another sweep of the
top of the cliff, especially above where the French lugger landed the
goods. "I shall be obliged to send you on shore, Mr Gurr. You must go
and find him. I'm getting very anxious about Mr Raystoke."
"Start at once, sir?"
"No, wait another half-hour. Very ill-advised thing to do. I cannot
think what you were doing, Mr Gurr, to advise me to do such a thing."
"Me, sir?" said the master, looking astonished.
"Yes. A great pity. I ought not to have listened to you; but in my
anxiety to leave no stone unturned to capture some of these scoundrels,
I was ready to do anything."
"Very true, sir."
"Now, my good fellow, what do you mean by that?"
"It was only an observation, sir."
"Then I must request that you will not make it again. `Very true?' Of
course, what I say is very true. Do you think I should say a thing that
was false?"
"Beg pardon, sir. 'Fraid I picked up some awk'ard expressions aboard
the old frigate."
"Awk-ward, Mr Gurr, awkward."
"Yes, sir; of course."
"You do not understand the drift of my remarks."
"'Fraid not, sir," said the master, smiling; "understand drift of the
tide much better."
"Mr Gurr!"
"Yes, sir."
"I was trying to teach you to pronounce the king's English correctly,
and you turn it off with a ribald remark."
"Beg pardon, sir. 'Nother o' my frigate bad habits."
"It is a great privilege, Mr Gurr, to be one of those who speak the
English tongue, so do not abuse it. Say awk-ward in future, not
awk'ard."
"Certainly, sir, I'll try," said the master; and then to himself,
"Starboard, larboard, for'ard, back'ard, awk'ard. Why, what does he
mean?"
By this time the little lieutenant was scanning the cliffs again, and
the master took off his hat and wiped his forehead.
"Talk about thistles and stinging nettles," he muttered, "why there's no
bearing him to-day, and all on account of a scamp of a middy such as
there's a hundred times too many on in the R'yal Navy. Dunno though;
bit cocky and nose in air when he's in full uniform, and don't know
which is head and which is his heels, but he aren't such a very bad sort
o' boy. Well, what's the matter with you?"
Dirty Dick screwed up his mouth as if to speak, but only stared.
"Don't turn yourself into a figurehead of an old wreck sir. What do you
want?"
"Leave to go ashore, sir."
"Well, you're going soon as the skipper orders."
"I mean all alone by myself, sir."
"What for? There aren't a public-house for ten miles."
"Didn't mean that."
"Then what did you mean? Speak out, and don't do the double shuffle all
over my clean deck."
"No, sir."
"Hopping about like a cat on hot bricks. Now, then, why do you want to
go ashore?"
"Try and find Mr Raystoke, sir. Beginning to feel scarred about him."
"What's that?" said the lieutenant, who had come back from abaft
unheard. "Scared about whom?"
"Beg pardon, didn't mean nowt, sir," said the sailor touching his
forelock.
"Yes, you did, sir. Now look here," cried the lieutenant, shaking his
glass at the man, "don't you try to deceive me. You meant that you were
getting uneasy about Mr Raystoke's prolonged absence."
"Yes sir, that's it," said Dick eagerly.
"Then how dare you have the effrontery to tell me that you did not mean
`nowt' as you have the confounded north country insolence to call it?
For two pins, sir,--women's pins, sir, not belaying pins,--I'd have you
put ashore, with orders not to show your dirty face again till you had
found Mr Raystoke."
Dirty Dick passed his hand over his face carefully, and then looked at
the palm to see if any of the swarthy tan had come off.
"Do you hear me, sir?" cried the lieutenant.
"Yes, sir," said the man humbly. "Shall I go at once sir?"
"No. Wait. Keep a sharp look-out on the cliff to see if Mr Raystoke
is making signals for a boat. I daresay he has been there all the time,
only you took up my attention with your chatter."
He swung round, walked aft and began sweeping the shore again with his
glass, while the master and Dick exchanged glances which meant a great
deal.
"He is in a wax," said Dick to himself, as he walked to the side, and
stood shading his eyes with his hands, looking carefully for the signals
which did not come.
Two hours more passed away, during which it was a dead calm, and the sun
beat down so hotly that the seams began to send out little black beads
of pitch, and drops formed under some of the ropes ready to come off on
the first hand which touched them.
At last the little lieutenant could bear the anxiety no longer.
"Pipe away the men to that boat there," he said; and as the crew sprang
in. "Now, Mr Gurr," he said, "I'm only going to say one thing to you
in the way of instructions."
"Yes, sir."
"Will you have the goodness to wait till I have done speaking, Mr Gurr,
and not compel me to say all I wish over again?"
"Beg pardon, sir," said the master deprecatingly.
"I say, sir, I have only one order to give you. Get ashore as soon as
you can, and find and bring back Mr Raystoke."
"Yes, sir," cried the master, and he walked over the side, glad to get
into the boat and push off, muttering the while, "and I always thought
him such a quiet, amiable little chap. He's a Tartar; that's what he
is. Making all this fuss about a boy who, as like as not, is having a
game with us. Don't see me getting out o' temper with everybody, and
spitting and swearing like a mad Tom-cat. Hang the boy! He's on'y a
middy.--Now, my lads,--now, my lads, put your backs into it, will you?"
The boat was already surging through the water faster than it had ever
gone before, but the men bent lower and the longer, and the blades of
the oars made the water flash and foam as they dipped and rose with the
greatest of regularity.
For the lieutenant's anxiety about the young officer of the _White Hawk_
was growing more and more contagious, and the men gave a cheer as they
span the boat along, every smart sailor on board thinking about the
frank, straightforward lad who had so bravely gone on the risky
expedition.
"Look ye here, Jemmy," said one of the men to his nearest mate, "talk
about 'tacking the enemy, if wrong's happened to our young gentleman,
all I can say is, as I hopes it's orders to land every night to burn
willages and sack everything we can."
"And so says all of us," came in a chorus from the rest of the crew.
"Steady! My lads, steady!" cried the master--"keep stroke;" and then he
began to make plans as to his first proceedings on getting ashore.
He wasn't long in making these plans, and when the cove was reached, the
two fishing luggers and another boat or two lying there were carefully
overhauled, Gurr gazing at the men on board like a fierce dog, and
literally worrying the different fishermen as cleverly as a
cross-examining counsel would a witness ashore.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN.
Always the same answer.
No, they hadn't seen no sailor lad in a red cap, only their own boys,
and they were all at home. Had he lost one?
Yes; a boy had come ashore and not returned.
The different men questioned chuckled, and one oracular-looking old
fellow spat, wiped his lips on the back of his hand, stared out to sea,
and said gruffly,--
"Runned away."
"Ay," said another, "that's it. You won't see him again."
"Won't I?" muttered Gurr between his teeth. "I'll let some of you see
about that, my fine fellows."
He led his men on, stopping at each cluster of cottages and shabby
little farm to ask suspiciously, as if he felt certain the person he
questioned was hiding the truth.
But he always came out again to his men with an anxious look in his
eyes, and generally ranged up alongside of Dick.
"No, my lad," he would say, "they haven't seen 'im there;" and then with
his head bent down, but his eyes eagerly searching the road from side to
side, he went on towards Shackle's farm.
"Say, Mester Gurr," said Dick, after one of these searches, "he wouldn't
run away?"
"What! Mr Raystoke, sir? Don't be a fool."
"No, sir," replied Dick humbly, and the men tramped on with a couple of
open-mouthed, barefooted boys following them to stare at their cutlasses
and pistols.
"Say, Mester Gurr," ventured Dick, after a pause, "none of 'em wouldn't
ha' done that, would they?"
Dick had followed the master's look, as he shaded his eyes and stared
over the green slope which led up to the cliffs.
"What?"
"Chucked him off yonder."
Gurr glanced round to see if the men were looking, and then said rather
huskily but kindly,--
"In ord'nary, Dick, my lad, no; but when smugglers finds themselves up
in corners where they can't get away, they turns and fights like rats,
and when they fights they bites."
"Ah!" ejaculated Dick sadly.
"You're only a common sailor, Dick, and I'm your officer, but though I
speak sharp unto you, I respect you, Dick, for you like that lad."
"Say, Mester Gurr, sir, which thankful I am to you for speaking so; but
you don't really think as he has come to harm?"
"I hope not, Dick; I hope not; but smugglers don't stand at anything
sometimes."
Dick sighed, and then all at once he spat in his fist, rubbed his hands
together and clenched them, a hard, fierce aspect coming into his rough
dark face, which seemed to promise severe retaliation if anything had
happened to the young officer.
There was nowhere else to search as far as Gurr could see, save the
little farm in the hollow, and the black-looking stone house up on the
hill among the trees.
Gurr, who looked wonderfully bull-dog like in aspect, made straight for
the farm, where the first person he encountered was Mrs Shackle, who,
innocent enough, poor woman, came to the door to bob a curtsey to the
king's men, while Jemmy Dadd, who was slowly loading a tumbril in whose
shafts was the sleepy grey horse, stuck his fork down into the heap of
manure from the cow-sheds, rested his hands on the top and his chin upon
his hands, to stare and grin at the sailors he recognised.
"Morning, marm," said Gurr; "sorry to trouble you, but--"
"Oh, sir," interrupted Mrs Shackle, "surely you are not going to tumble
over my house again! I do assure you there's nothing here but what you
may see."
"If you'd let me finish, you'd know," said Gurr gruffly. "One of our
boys is missing. Seen him up here? Boy 'bout seventeen with a red
cap."
"No, sir; indeed I've not."
"Don't know as he has been seen about here, do you?" said Gurr, looking
at her searchingly.
"No, sir."
"Haven't heard any one talking about him, eh? Come ashore yesterday."
Mrs Shackle shook her head.
"Thank ye!--No, Dick," continued the master, turning back to where the
men were waiting, and unconsciously brushing against the bush behind
which the middy had hidden himself, "that woman knows nothing. If she
knew evil had come to the poor lad, her face would tell tales like
print. Hi! You, sir," he said, going towards where Jemmy stood
grinning.
"Mornin'," said Jemmy; "come arter some more milk?"
"No," growled Gurr.
"Don't want to take the cow away agen, do 'ee?"
"Look here, my lad, one of our boys is missing. Came ashore yesterday,
lad of seventeen in a red cap."
"Oh!" said Jemmy with a vacant look. "Don't mean him as come with you,
do you?"
"I said a lad 'bout seventeen, in a red cap like yours," said Gurr very
shortly.
"Aren't seen no lads with no red caps up here," said the man with a
vacant look. "Have he runned away?"
"Are you sure you haven't seen him, my lad?" growled Gurr; "because,
look here, it may be a serious thing for some of you, if he is not
found."
The man shook his head, and stared as if he didn't half understand the
drift of what was said.
Gurr turned angrily away, and to find himself facing Dick.
"Well, seen anything suspicious?"
"No, sir," said Dick, "on'y my fingers is a itchin'."
"Scratch them then."
"Nay, you don't understand," grumbled Dick. "I mean to have a turn at
that chap, Master Gurr, sir. I feel as if I had him for 'bout quarter
hour I could knock something out of him."
"Nonsense! Come along. Now, my lads, forward!"
Jemmy Dadd's countenance changed from its vacant aspect to one full of
cunning, as the party from the cutter moved off, but it became dull and
semi-idiotic again, for Gurr turned sharply round.
"Here, my lad, where's your master?"
"Eh?"
"I say, where's your master?"
"Aren't in; mebbe he's out in the fields."
Gurr turned away impatiently again, and signing to his men to follow,
they all began to tramp up the steep track leading toward the Hoze, with
the rabbits scuttling away among the furze, and showing their white
cottony tails for a moment as they darted down into their holes.
Dick followed last, shaking his head, and looking very much
dissatisfied, or kept on looking back at Jemmy, who stood like a statue,
resting his chin upon the shaft of his pitchfork, watching him go away.
"I dunno," muttered Dick, "and a man can't be sure. There was nowt to
see and nowt to hear, and of course one couldn't smell it, but seems to
me as that ugly-looking fisherman chap knows where our Mr Raystoke is.
Yah, I hates half-bred uns! If a man's a labourer, let him be a
labourer; and if he's a fisherman, let him be a fisherman. Man can't be
two things, and it looks queer."
An argument which did not have much force when self-applied, for Dick
suddenly recollected that he was very skilful with the scissors, and
knew that he was the regular barber of the crew, and as this came to his
mind he took off his cap and gave his head a vicious scratch.
"Never mind the rabbits, lads," cried Gurr angrily; "we want to find Mr
Raystoke."
The men closed up together, and mastered their desire to go hunting, to
make a change from the salt beef and pork fare, and soon after they came
suddenly upon Sir Risdon and his lady, the latter, who looked weak and
ill, leaning on her husband's arm.
Gurr saluted, and stated his business, while the baronet, who had turned
sallower and more careworn than his lot drew a breath full of relief.
"One of your ship boys?" he said.
"A lad, looking like a common sailor, and wearing a red cap."
"No," said Sir Risdon. "I have seen no one answering to the description
here."
"Beg pardon, sir, but can you, as a gentleman, assure me that he is not
here?"
"Certainly," said Sir Risdon. "You have seen no one?" he continued,
turning to Lady Graeme.
The lady shook her head.
"That's enough, sir; but may I ask you, if you do see or hear anything
of such a lad, you will send a messenger off to the cutter?"
"It is hardly right to enlist me in the search for one of your
deserters," said Sir Risdon coldly.
"Yes, sir, but he is not a deserter; and the fact is, we are afraid the
lad has run alongside o' the smugglers, and come to grief."
"Surely!" cried Sir Risdon excitedly. "No, no,--you must be mistaken.
A boyish prank. No one about here would injure a boy."
"Humph!" ejaculated Gurr, looking at the baronet searchingly. "Glad you
think so well of 'em, sir. But I suppose you'll grant that the people
about here would not be above a bit of smuggling?"
Sir Risdon was silent.
"And would run a cargo of brandy or silk?"
"I suppose there is a good deal of smuggling on the coast," said Sir
Risdon coldly, as he thought of his vault.
"Yes sir, there is, and it will go hard with the people who are caught
having any dealings with the smugglers."
Lady Graeme looked ghastly.
"What would you say, sir, if I were to order my men, in the king's name,
to search your place?"
Sir Risdon dared not trust himself to speak, but darted an agonised
glance at his wife.
"However, sir, I'm not on that sort of business now," continued Gurr
sternly. "Want to find that boy. Good day. Now, my lads."
The men marched off, and Sir Risdon stood watching them.
"Ah, Risdon," and Lady Graeme, "how could you let yourself be dragged
into these dreadful deeds!"
"Don't blame me," he said sadly. "I loathe the whole business, but when
I saw my wife and child suffering almost from want of the very
necessaries of life, and the temptation came in the shape of presents
from that man, I could not resist--I was too weak. I listened to his
insidious persuasion, and tried to make myself believe that I was
guiltless, as I owned no fealty to King George. But I am justly
punished, and never again will I allow myself to be made an accessory to
these lawless deeds."
"But tell me," she whispered, "have they any of their goods secreted
there now?"
"I do not know."
"You do not know?"
"No. The only way in which I could allow myself to act was to keep
myself in complete ignorance of the going and coming of these people. I
might suspect, but I would never satisfy myself by watching; and I can
say now honestly, I do not know whether they have still goods lying
there or have taken them away."
"But Celia--keep it from her."
"Of course."
"And about the missing boy. Surely, Risdon, they would not--"
Lady Graeme did not finish, but gave her husband a piercing look.
"Don't ask me," he said sadly. "Many of the men engaged in the
smuggling are desperate wretches, and if they feared betrayal they would
not scruple, I'm afraid, to strike down any one in the way of their
escape."
Lady Graeme shuddered, and they went together into the house, just as
Celia came across the wood at the back, in company with the dog.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.
Gurr continued his search till it was quite dark, and then tramped his
men back to the cove, where the boat-keeper was summoned, and the boat
with her crew, saving Dick, were sent back to the cutter, one of the men
bearing a message from Gurr to say that he was going to stay ashore till
he had found Mr Raystoke, and asking the lieutenant to send the boat
back for him if he did not approve.
It was a very dark row back to the cutter, but her lights shone out
clearly over the smooth sea, forming good beacons for the men to follow
till the boat was run alongside.
"Got them, Mr Gurr?" came from the deck.
"No sir, and Mr Gurr's stopping at one of the fishermen's cottages
ashore to keep on the search."
"Tut, tut!" ejaculated the lieutenant as he turned away and began to
pace the deck.
"Beg'n' pardon, sir, Mr Gurr said--"
"Well, well, well, what did Mr Gurr say? Pity he did not do more and
not say so much."
"Said as his dooty, sir, and would you send the boat for him if you did
not think he'd done right."
"No, sir! His Majesty's boats are wanted for other purposes than
running to and fro to fetch him aboard. Let him stay where he is till
he finds Mr Raystoke and brings him back aboard."
"Dear, dear," muttered the lieutenant as he walked to and fro. "To
think of the boy being missing like this.--Now you, sirs, in with that
boat.--Where can he be? Not the lad to go off on any prank.--There, go
below and get something to eat, my lads.--All comes of being sent into a
miserable little boat like this to hunt smugglers."
"Ahoy!" came from forward.
"What's that?" cried the lieutenant, and an answer came from out of the
blackness ahead.
"What boat's that?" shouted the man on the watch. "Mine," came in a low
growl. "What is it?"
"Want to see the skipper."
There was a little bustle forward, in the midst of which a boat came up
alongside, and the man in it was allowed to come on board.
He was a big, broad-shouldered, heavy fellow, with rough black beard and
dark eyes, which glowered at those around as a lanthorn was held up by
one of the men. "Where's the skipper?" he growled. "Bring the man
aft," cried the lieutenant. "This way."
"All right, mate; I can find my way; I aren't a baby," said the man as
he took three or four strides, lifting up his big fisherman's boots, and
setting them heavily down upon the deck as if they were something
separate from him which he had brought on board.
"Now, my man, brought news of him?" cried the lieutenant eagerly. "Eh?"
And the great fellow seemed to tower over the little commander.
"I say, have you brought news of the boy?"
"What boy?"
"Haven't you come to tell me where he is?"
"Here, what yer talking about?" growled the man. "I aren't come 'bout
no boys."
"Then, pray, why have you come?"
"Send them away," said the man in a hoarse whisper.
He jerked his thumb over his shoulder, and the lieutenant was about to
give an order but altered his mind, for he suspected the man's mission,
not an unusual one in those days.
"Come into my cabin, sir," he said imperiously, and as he turned and
strutted off, making the most of his inches, the giant--for such he was
by comparison--stumbled after him, making the deck echo to the sound of
his great boots.
"Now, sir," said the lieutenant haughtily, "what is your business?"
The man leaned forward, and there was a leer on his bearded face seen by
the dull swinging oil-lamp, as, half covering his mouth, he whispered
hoarsely behind his hands--
"Like Hollands gin, master?"
"What do you mean, sir?" cried the lieutenant. "Speak out, for I have
no time to lose."
"Oh, I'll speak plainly enough," growled the man; "on'y do you like it?"
"Do you mean that a foreign vessel is going to land a quantity of
Hollands to-night?"
"Never said nothing o' the sort, Master Orficer. Why, if I was to come
and say a thing like that, and folks ashore knowed on it, there'd be a
haxiden."
"What do you mean, sir?"
"Some un would run up agin me atop o' the cliff, and I should go over,
and there'd be an end o' me."
"You mean to say that if it was known that you informed, you would be in
peril of your life?"
"No, I don't mean to say nothing o' the kind, master. I only says to
you that there's going to be a drop to be got in a place I knows, and if
you care to say to a chap like me--never you mind who he is--show me
where this drop of Hollands gin is to be got, and I'll give you--for
him, you know--fifty pounds, it would be done."
"Look here, my lad, if you have got any valuable information to give,
wouldn't it be better for you to speak out plainly?"
"Didn't come twenty mile in my boat and get here in the dark, for you to
teach me how to ketch fish, Master Orficer."
"Twenty miles!" said the lieutenant sharply; "where are you from?"
"Out o' my boat as is made fast 'longside. Is it fifty pound or aren't
it?"
"Fifty pound is a great deal of money, my man. Your information may not
be worth fifty pence. Suppose the boat does not come?"
"Why, o' course, you wouldn't pay."
"Oh, now I understand you. If we take the boat with the spirits I am to
give you fifty pounds?"
"Me? Think I'm goin' to be fool enough to risk gettin' my neck broke
for fifty pound? Nay, not me. You'll give it to me to give to him."
"And where is he?"
"Never you mind, master."
"Oh, well, there then; I'll give you the fifty pounds if I take the
boat. Dutch?"
"P'raps. Shake hands on it."
"Is that necessary?" said the lieutenant, glancing with distaste at the
great outstretched palm.
"Ay, shake hands on it, and you being a gentleman, you'll say, 'pon your
honour."
"Oh, very well. There, upon my honour, we'll pay you if we take the
boat."
"Oh you'll take her, fast enough," said the man with a hoarse chuckle.
"Yah! There's no fight in them. They'll chatter and jabber a bit, and
their skipper'll swear he'll do all sorts o' things, but you stick to
the boat as soon as your lads are on board."
"Trust me for that," said the lieutenant. "Now, then, when is the cargo
to be run?"
"T'night."
"And where?"
"Never you mind wheer. Get up your anchor, and make sail; I'll take the
helm."
"What, do you think I am going to let a strange man pilot my vessel?"
"Yah!" growled the man; "shan't you be there, and if I come any games,
you've got pistols, aren't you? But just as you like."
"Come on deck," said the lieutenant. "But one minute. I have lost a
boy--gone ashore. Have you seen one?"
"Not I; lots o' boys about, soon get another!"
The man went clumping on deck, and stepped over the side into his boat.
"What are you going to do?" said the lieutenant sharply.
"Make her fast astarn."
"Well, you need not have got into her, you could have led her round."
"This here's my way," said the man; and as the order was given to slip
the anchor, with a small buoy left to mark its place, the informer
secured his boat to one of the ringbolts astern, and then drew close in;
and mounted over the bulwark to stand beside the man at the helm.
"What do you propose doing?" said the lieutenant.
"Tellin' o' you what I wants done, and then you tells your lads."
The lieutenant nodded, and in obedience to the suggestion of the man the
stay-sail was hoisted; then up went the mainsail and jib, and the little
cutter careened over to the soft land breeze as soon as she got a little
way out from under the cliffs, which soon became invisible.
"Why, you aren't dowsed your lanthorns," whispered the man. "I'd have
them down, and next time you have time just have down all your canvas,
and get it tanned brown. Going about with lanthorns and white canvas is
showing everybody where you are."
After a time, as they glided on, catching a glimpse of a twinkling light
or two on the shore, the man grew a little more communicative, and began
to whisper bits of information and advice to the lieutenant.
"Tells me," he said, "that she's choke full o' Hollands gin and lace."
"Indeed!" said the lieutenant eagerly.
"Ay, so that chap says. And there's plenty o' time, but after a bit I'd
sarve out pistols and cutlasses to the lads; you won't have to use 'em,
but it'll keep those Dutchies from showing fight."
"That will all be done, my man."
"Going to get out four or five mile, master, and then we can head round,
and get clear o' the long race and the skerries. After that I shall run
in, and we'll creep along under the land. Good deep water for
five-and-twenty miles there close under the cliff."
"Then you are making for Clayblack Bay?"
"Ah, you'll see," said the man surlily. "As long as you get to where
you can overhaul the boat when she comes in, you won't mind where it is,
Mister Orficer. There's no rocks to get on, unless you run ashore, and
'tarn't so dark as you need do that, eh?"
"I can take care of that," said the lieutenant sharply; and the cutter,
now well out in the north-east wind then blowing, leaned over, and
skimmed rapidly towards the dark sea.
The reef that stretched out from a point, and formed the race where the
tide struck against the submerged rocks, and then rushed out at right
angles to the shore, had been passed, and the cutter was steered on
again through the clear dark night, slowly drawing nearer the dark shore
line, till she was well in under the cliffs; with the result that the
speed was considerably checked, but she was able to glide along at a
short distance from the land, and without doubt invisible to any vessel
at sea.
"There," said the great rough fellow, after three hours' sailing; "we're
getting pretty close now. Bay opens just beyond that rock."
"Where I'll lie close in, and wait for her," said the lieutenant.
The man laughed softly.
"Thought I--I mean him--was to get fifty pounds, if you took the boat?"
"Yes."
"Well, you must take her. Know what would happen if you went round that
point into the bay?"
"Know what would happen?"
"I'll tell yer. Soon as you got round into the bay, some o' them ashore
would see yer. Then up would go lights somewhere yonder on the hills,
and the boat would go back."
"Of course. I ought to have known better. Wait here then?"
"Well, I should, if I wanted to take her," said the man coldly. "And I
should have both my boats ready for my men to jump in, and cut her off
as soon as she gets close in to th
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