Jack Hardy: A Story of English Smugglers in the Days of Napoleon

by Herbert Strang

  *CHAPTER XVI*

  *A RUN AT SANDY COVE*

  It took Jack much longer in the darkness to return to the _Fury_ than ithad taken to reach the cottage, and he found that Babbage was becominguneasy.

  "All safe, men?" he said.

  "Ay, ay, sir. And you, sir?"

  "Right as a trivet. Heave the anchor, boys; I want to be fifty milesaway by the morning."

  He required a little time for thinking out a plan for turning to accounthis discovery of the signaler's code, and meanwhile it was desirable tokeep out of the smugglers' reach. Before dawn he dropped anchor at alittle fishing village fifty miles west of Luscombe. It was a remoteand secluded spot, and there was little chance of the _Fury's_ presencecoming to the ears of the Luscombe folk for some days.

  "I'm going ashore again, Babbage. Lie quietly here. I may be away acouple of days."

  Still disguised, he went into the village, hired a gig, and drove thirtymiles in the Luscombe direction to the village of Middleton, about tenmiles from the sea. He put up at the _Pig and Whistle_, scribbled anote to the riding-officer and despatched it by a horseman to Wynport.

  "SIR" (he wrote),--

  "Be good enough to meet me here this evening. Ask at the inn for Mr.Loveday. The matter is urgent, and the business the king's.

  "Yours truly, "JACK HARDY."

  At six o'clock Mr. Goodman appeared.

  "I am here, Mr. Hardy, but 'tis most inconvenient. I take it rather hardthat a man of my age--"

  "Exactly, Mr. Goodman. I'm not so old as you, and I should have come toyou if I hadn't good reasons for keeping clear of the coast folk. I'veinformation that the smugglers intend to make a run to-morrow."

  "Is that all? Why, I often get such information, and nine times out often it is false. Besides, what's the good of knowing that a run is tobe made if you don't know where?"

  "I do know where."

  "Oh, in that case leave it to me. I'll bag the whole gang. There's ascore of rascals at Luscombe I'd like to hang--ay, and will, too. Ifyour news is correct, 'twill be pretty soon, I promise you."

  "Just so, Mr. Goodman. But meanwhile I've come to arrange that the runmay be made without interference."

  "What! Do I hear ye aright? A king's officer name such a thing to me!'Pon my soul and body, Mr. Hardy, I'm surprised at you. 'Twill be myduty--a painful duty, Mr. Hardy--to report the matter. Never in thewhole seventeen years of my service have--"

  "Quite so, Mr. Goodman," Jack interrupted. "But Admiral Horniman thinksthat in this case the king's service requires this little departure fromthe ordinary course. And 'twill only make the capture of your rascalsmore certain in the end. We have to meet them with their ownweapons--match ruse with ruse; and that's why, with the admiral'sapproval, I want you and your land-guard to help me."

  Jack smiled so pleasantly and spoke with such an air of deference thatthe riding-officer, taking what he said as a compliment to his ownastuteness, thawed.

  "A capital idea, Mr. Hardy! Exactly; play their own game. The admiralwas always a man of sense. But what do you propose?"

  Then followed a long conversation, in which Jack explained as much ofhis plan as he thought would suffice. Mr. Goodman was captivated withthe notion, and left by and by in high good-humor with Jack, himself,and everybody.

  Jack did not know the time of the intended run. It would certainly notbe before dark, so when he left the inn on the following afternoon hetimed his departure so as to arrive near Luscombe just after darknesshad fallen. The distance was nearly twenty miles across country. Hedrove some ten miles directly toward Luscombe, then struck inland foranother seven miles, alighted at a cottage recommended by theriding-officer, and left the gig in charge of the owner, a trusty man,saying that he would meet him at the same place at daybreak nextmorning.

  From the cottage to Luscombe the distance was about five miles. He knewthe lay of the land, and, following unfrequented paths, came to the edgeof Congleton's Hollow in about an hour and a half. Skirting thiscautiously, he made his way along the edge of the stream that had formedthe chine he now knew as Sandy Cove.

  It was a good mile to the sea. Every now and then he stopped andlistened, to make sure that he was not being followed; hereabouts he hadcome unexpectedly upon Gudgeon and De Fronsac. As he came nearGudgeon's farm he went with redoubled caution. He heard a sand-piperwhistling; a few gulls screeched above his head; save for these therewas silence.

  He remembered having noticed, in the course of his rambles with Arthur,a large evergreen bush growing on a shelf of rock some distance abovethe bed of the stream. That seemed to him the very place at which topost himself, for while he could get from it a good view of what washappening on the shore only a few yards below, it was so thick, and sosituated in relation to its surroundings, that he would run littledanger there of being observed.

  With some difficulty he clambered up to the bush. Looking round to makesure that he was not espied, he forced his way into it, and waited. Thetime passed slowly. It was a black March evening, with a nipping wind,and in spite of his cloak Jack felt bitterly cold. Hour after hourdrawled away, and there had been no sound. He wondered whether the runhad been abandoned. Or had he, after all, made a mistake?

  At last, when, feeling numbed and depressed, he had almost resolved toleave the spot, he heard voices from just above--on the zigzag path fromGudgeon's farm to the sea.

  "Send round the word; she'll be in in ten minutes. There's nopreventives on the prowl, or we'd have heard afore now from Totley Pointor Laxted Cove. Aha! Goodman and his joes have never yet got pastPeter Bunce and Jan Derriman. Bill, a' believe I've got some o' theypellets in my calf yet."

  "More fool 'ee for meddling wi' old Joe."

  One of the men hurried down the path, while the other returned to thetop of the cliff. Listening intently, Jack heard the man's footstepssounding ever more faintly as they receded in the direction of thevillage.

  He was right, then! This was Sandy Cove, and here the run was to bemade. He felt impatient for the work to begin. The sky was very dark,there was no moon--smugglers avoided moonlit nights--but the air was soclear that he hoped to see well enough for his purpose.

  Ah! there were dark figures moving quietly about the beach below. Themen had taken off their boots, it appeared, and there--yes! It was theblack shape of a vessel slowly approaching the shore. The sails wererun down with scarce a sound; the lugger hove to within a few yards ofthe cove; then, on a gangway invisible to Jack, the smugglers went toand fro, those coming shoreward bent under heavy burdens.

  Jack watched eagerly. The carriers brought their loads up the chine,and disappeared along the same path that he himself had followed a fewhours before. It seemed but a few minutes; then he heard a voice say"That's the last;" the lugger stood out to sea, and Sandy Cove was asquiet as though nothing had happened.

  Slipping out of his hiding-place, Jack very cautiously followed the lastman, who carried no load and seemed to be in some authority over therest. Jack could never venture near enough to see his features, noreven to get a complete view of his form. He tracked him to Congleton'sHollow, and there was compelled to pause and dodge some of the carrierswho, having finished their work, were making their way homeward acrossthe fields. Waiting a little while until all seemed safe, he creptacross the Hollow to the summer-house where he had found the iron steps.It was from this that the carriers had come. Clearly the smuggled goodshad been deposited there. He searched as thoroughly as he could in thedarkness, but could find no trace of them.

  "'Tis a job for daylight," he said to himself. "Now for my tramp back."

  He was dead tired when he reached the cottage where he had left his gig.The cottager awoke at his knock, put the horse in, and drove him at onceto Middleton, where he slept heavily for three or four hours before Mr.Goodman arrived in the morning.

  "Well, Mr. Hardy, I hope you spotted the rascals as we arranged.
"

  "I saw the run," replied Jack, with an inward chuckle at theriding-officer's "we," "and a precious cold night it was. They'vehidden the stuff somewhere in old Congleton's summer-house."

  "Have they indeed? I'll seize it at once."

  "No, no, Mr. Goodman, don't be in a hurry. You might send a few of yourmen to Luscombe, telling them nothing, of course. If they're seen aboutthere for a day or two it will prevent the smugglers from removing theirstuff until it is too late. And if you don't mind, send a messenger toWaddon for me, and tell Babbage to remain where he is till furtherorders."

  "I will, Mr. Hardy. By George! I hope Admiral Horniman will be pleasedwith the way we are carrying out his plans."

  Jack smiled as the riding-officer took his leave,--Mr. Goodman knew onlyhalf the plan; Admiral Horniman none of it.

  The most important part of Jack's task was still before him. He haddetermined to be in the turret room of Congleton's Folly on Wednesdayevening; how was he to get there? The removable steps were no doubtbeing used by the signaler; but it was not likely that they were stillhidden in the same place. De Fronsac, of course, would believe Jack tobe safe in a French prison; but the last hiding-place having been soeasily discovered, he would certainly choose a new one. Yet, if thetower was to be entered, steps of some kind must be had.

  Jack spent a quiet Sunday, and early on Monday morning drove a few milesinland to another village, where he entered the smithy and asked thesmith if he could make him quickly a dozen iron loops with a tail tothem.

  "Well, maybe I might," said the smith, "if you showed me the pattern."

  "Here you are," replied Jack, drawing a rough sketch of the article hewanted with a piece of charcoal on the side of the forge.

  "And what might that be for, measter?" the smith inquired. "A cur'ouslooking objeck."

  "Yes, isn't it? 'Tis for a game I'm going to play--quite a new thing inthese parts."

  "Well, to be sure! And how thick do 'ee want 'em?"

  Jack could only guess the dimensions. He tried to recall the size ofthe holes in the wall of the _Folly_, and gave the smith a thicknesswhich he hoped would turn out within the mark. The steps were easilymade when the man had grasped the idea. Getting them wrapped up, Jackdrove back to Middleton, and thence to Waddon, where Babbage and thecrew of the _Fury_ were unfeignedly glad to see him once more.

  "'Tis long waiting when you don't know, sir," said Babbage. "As brotherSol used to say: 'Wait not, want not,' and true it is, though so plain."

  During the rest of Monday and all Tuesday the _Fury_ cruised downChannel, merely to kill time. The men wondered why their youngcommander did not sail out to sea and do some scouting work, if nothingelse, but Jack did not wish to run any risks; besides, he was busilyoccupied in drawing up a message in the cipher used by the signaler atthe Folly.

  On Wednesday morning the _Fury_ put in once more at Waddon, and Jackleft again. These mysterious absences were somewhat trying to Babbage'sequanimity.

  "But there," he said, talking the matter over with Turley, "to gentlemenof eddication, I s'pose, our heads--yourn an' mine, Turley--be only likeso many turnips."

  "Mr. Babbage?" Turley's tone was one of surprise and remonstrance.

  "Wot?"

  "Not Turnips."

  "Why not?"

  "Why, sir, 'cos they have Tops."

  "Not when they're mashed, Turley, wi' butter, or dripping forcheapness."