CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.
LADIES ABOARD--OUR CREW'S DREAD OF THE CONSEQUENCES.
We had not been many days in harbour, when Rullock received orders totake a cruise to the westward to practise his crew, who, being mostlyraw hands quickly raised at Plymouth, required no little practice toturn them into men-of-war's men.
As plenty of sea-air had been prescribed for Miss Mizen, and change ofscene--not that I think she now required either--it was arranged thatshe and her mother should take a cruise in the "Zebra." Had Mrs Mizenbeen his wife instead of his sister, Captain Rullock could not havetaken her, as the rules of the service do not allow a captain to takehis wife to sea with him, though he may any other man's wife, or anyrelative, or any lady whatever.
Under such circumstances, it was not to be supposed that the "Frolic"would remain at anchor. Accordingly she put to sea with thebrig-of-war. Carstairs, however, had metal more attractive to his tasteat Valetta, so decided on remaining on shore. We did not fail to misshim, and to wish for his quaint, dry, comic remarks, and apt quotationsfrom Shakespeare. Never, certainly, was a party better constituted thanours for amusing each other, all of us having that indispensableingredient of harmony, perfect good humour; and had not that archmischief-maker Cupid found his way among us, we should have continued inunited brotherhood till the yacht was laid up.
A light breeze brought off faintly the sound of the evening gun from thecastle of St. Elmo, as, in company with the "Zebra," we stood away fromMalta to the westward. Hearty walked his deck with a prouder air andfirmer step than was his wont. Nothing so much gives dignity to a manas the consciousness of having won the affections of a true, good girl.His eye was seldom or never off the brig, even after the shades of nightprevented the possibility of distinguishing much more than her mereoutline, as her taut masts and square yards, and the tracery of herrigging appeared against the starlit sky. He had charged Porpoise tohave a very sharp look-out kept that we might run no chance of partingfrom our consort; but, not content with that, he was on deck everyhalf-hour during the night to ascertain that his directions were obeyed.
"I say, Bill, the gov'nor seems to fancy that no one has got any eyes inhis head worth two farthing rushlights but hisself, this here cruise," Iheard old Sleet remark to his chum, Frost. "What can a come over him?"
"What, don't you know, Bo?" answered Bill; "I thought any one with halfan eye could have seen that. Why, he's been and courted the niece ofthe skipper of the brig there, and soon they'll be going and gettingspliced, and then good-bye to the `Frolic.' She'll be laid up to acertainty. It's always so. The young gentlemen as soon as they comesinto their fortunes goes and buys a yacht. We'll always be living atsea, say they. It goes on at first very well while they've only friendscomes aboard, but soon they takes to asking ladies, and soon its all upwith them. Either they takes to boxing about in the Channel, betweenthe Wight and the main; for ever up and down anchor, running intoharbour to dine, and spending the day pulling on shore, waitingalongside the yacht-house slip for hours, and coming aboard with a cargoof boat-cloaks and shawls, or else, as I have said, they goes and givesup the yacht altogether." Old Sleet gave a munch at his grub and thenreplied,--"But if I don't judge altogether wrong by the cut of this hereyoung lady's jib, I don't think she's one of those who'd be for wishingher husband to do any such thing. When she came aboard of us, t'otherday, she stepped along the thwarts just as if she'd been born at sea.Says I to myself, when I saw her, she's a sailor's daughter, and asailor's niece, and should be a sailor's wife; but if what you say istrue, Bo, she's going to be next door to it, as a chap may say, andthat's the wife of a true, honest yachtsman. No, no, there's no fear,she won't let him lay up the `Frolic,' depend on't."
"Well, I hope so," observed Frost; "I should just like to have a fineyoung girl like she aboard, they keeps things alive somehow, when theyare good, though when they are t'other they are worse than one of oldNick's imps for playing tricks and doing mischief."
"You are right there again, and no mistake, Bo," answered Sleet. "Ionce sailed with a skipper who had his wife aboard: I never seed suchgoings on before nor since. The poor man couldn't call his soul hisown, or his sleep his own. She was a downright double-fisted woman, aregular white sergeant. She wouldn't allow a drop of grog to be servedout without she did it, nor a candle end to be burned without logging itdown; she almost starved the poor skipper--she used to tell him it wasfor his spirit's welfare. He never put the ship about withoutconsulting her. One day, when it was blowing big guns and small-arms,she was out of sorts, and says he--
"`Molly, love, I think we ought for to be shortening sail, or we maychance to have the masts going over the sides.'
"`Shorten sail?' she sings out, `let the masts go, and you go with them,for what I care. Let the ship drive, she'll bring up somewhere as wellwithout you as with you.'
"The poor skipper hadn't a word to say, but for his life he daren't takethe canvas off the ship.
"`My love, it blows very hard,' says he again, in a mild, gentle voice.
"`Let it blow harder,' answers the lady; and you might have supposed itwas a boatswain's mate who'd swallowed a marlinspike who spoke.
"Presently down came the gale heavier than ever on us. Crack, crack,went the masts, and in another second we hadn't a stick standing.
"`Where's the ship going to drive to, now?' asks the skipper, turning tohis wife. `I've been a fool a long time, but I don't mean to be a foolany longer; just you get the ship put to rights, or overboard you go.'
"`How am I to do that same?' asks Mrs Molly, very considerablymollified; `I don't know how.'
"`Then overboard you goes,' says the skipper, quite coolly, but firmly.`If the wind shifts three or four points only we shall have an uglyshore under our lee, which will knock every timber of the ship into tenthousand atoms in no time, and you may thank yourself for being thecause of the wreck.'
"`Oh, spare my life, spare my life, and I'll never more interfere withthe duty of the ship,' cries the lady, in an agony of fear.
"The captain pretended to be softened. `Well,' says he, `take the oathsand go below, and I'll think about it.'
"Mrs Molly, as we always called her, sneaked to her cabin withoutsaying another word. All hands set to work with a will, and obeyed theskipper much more willingly than we had ever done before. We gotjury-masts up, and carried the ship safely into port, but from that timeto this I've always fought shy of a ship with petticoats in the cabin,and so I always shall, except I happen to know the sort of woman whowears them."
I was much amused with old Sleet's remarks, and in most respects Iagreed, with him.
A day or two afterwards the crew had their suspicions confirmed by theappearance of Mrs and Miss Mizen on the deck of the cutter. In themean time Hearty had been constantly on board the brig-of-war. He dinedon board every day, as indeed we all did, only we dined in the gun-room,and he with the captain and ladies. The accommodation, however, onboard the brig was rather confined, and as the weather promised tocontinue fine, he became naturally anxious to get them on board theyacht. At last he broached the subject. Old Rullock did not object;the ladies finding that there was nothing incorrect in the proceedingwere very willing; and to give them more accommodation, an exchange waseffected between them and Bubble, who took up his quarters on board thebrig. I should have gone also, but Porpoise begged I would remain andkeep him company, so I doubled up in his cabin to give the ladies moreaccommodation. Hearty took Snow's berth, and the old man was very gladon such an occasion to swing in a hammock forward. The thought of thosedays are truly sunny memories of foreign seas.
Miss Mizen, by her kind and lively manners, her readiness to conversewith the crew, her wish to pick up information about the sea and theplaces they had visited, and their own histories, and her unwillingnessto give trouble, soon won the love of all on board; while her mother,whose character was very similar to her daughter's, was a generalfavourite, and I heard old Sleet declare to Frost
that the old ladywasn't a bit like Mrs Molly Magrath, and as for the young girl she wasan angel, and old as he was he'd be ready to go round the world to serveher, that he would.
"Now don't you think Mr Hearty, that you could find some one who canspin a regular sea matter-of-fact yarn about things which really havebeen?" said Miss Mizen, one fine afternoon, with one of those sweetsmiles which would have been irresistible, even if a far more importantrequest had been made.
The owner of the "Frolic" thought a little. "Yes, by the by, I haveit," he exclaimed; "one of the men I have on board is a first-rateyarn-spinner. Once set his tongue a going, it is difficult to stop it,and yet there is very little romance about the old man. He has, Iconclude, a first-rate memory, and just tells what he has seen andheard. I'll call him aft, and will try what we can get out of him."
Hearty on this went forward, and after a little confab with the crew,returned with old Sleet, who, instead of being bashful, was looking aspleased as Punch in his most frolicsome humour, at the honour about tobe done him. Without hesitation he doffed his hat, threw his quidoverboard, smoothed down his hair, and began his tale. I must confessthat I have not given it in his language, which was somewhat a departurefrom the orthodox vernacular, and might weary my readers.
"Now, gentlemen and ladies all, I'm going to tell you--"
HOW JOE BUNTIN DID THE REVENUE.
The "Pretty Polly" was the fastest, the smartest, and the sweetest craftthat sailed out of Fairport; so said Joe Buntin, and nobody had betterright to say it, or better reason to know it, he being part owner ofher, and having been master of her from the day her keel first touchedthe water. She was a cutter of no great size, for she measured onlysomething between thirty and forty tons; she had great beam for herlength, was sharp in the bows, rising slightly forward, and with a cleanrun; she was, in fact, a capital sea-boat, fit to go round the world ifneeds be--weatherly in a heavy sea, and very fast in smooth water,though the nautical critics pronounced her counter too short for beauty;but Joe did not consider that point a defect, as it made her all thebetter for running in foul weather, which was what he very frequentlywanted her to do. She carried a whacking big mainsail, with immensehoist in it, and the boom well over the taffrail. Her big jib was awhopper with a vengeance, and her foresail hoisted chock up to theblock. She had a swinging gaff-topsail very broad in the head, and asquare-sail to set for running, with prodigious spread in it; so that,give the "Pretty Polly" a good breeze, few were the craft of anythinglike her own size she couldn't walk away from. In fact, anybody mighthave taken her for some dandified yacht, rather than for a humblepilot-boat, which the number on her mainsail proclaimed her to be. Nowthe "Pretty Polly," like other beauties, had her fair weather and herfoul weather looks, her winter as well as her summer suit. She had hersecond, and third, and storm-jibs, a trysail of heavy canvas, and even asecond mainsail, with a shorter boom to ship at times, while herstanding and running rigging was as good as the best hemp and thegreatest care could keep it, for every inch of it was turned in underJoe's inspection, if not with his own hand. Joe Buntin loved his craft,as does every good sailor; she was his care, his pride, his delight,mistress, wife, and friend. He would talk to her and talk of her by thehour together; he was never tired of praising her, of expatiating on herqualities, of boasting of her achievements, how she walked away fromsuch a cutter--how she weathered such a gale--how she clawed off alee-shore on such an occasion; there was no end to what she had done andwas to do. She was, in truth, all in all to Joe; he was worthy of her,and she was worthy of him, which reminds us that he himself claims aword or two of description. He had little beauty, nor did he boast ofit, for in figure he was nearly as broad as high, with a short, thickneck, and a turn-up nose in the centre of his round, fresh-colouredvisage; but he had black, sparkling eyes, full of fun and humour, and awell-formed mouth, with strong white teeth, which rescued hiscountenance from being ugly, while an expression of firmness andboldness, with great good nature, made him respected by all, and gainedhim plenty of friends. Joe sported a love-lock on each side of hisface, with a little tarpaulin hat stuck on the top of his head, a neatblue jacket, or a simple blue guernsey frock, and an enormously largepair of flushing trousers, with low shoes; indeed, he was very natty inhis dress, and although many people called him a smuggler--nor is thereany use in denying that he was one--he did not look a bit like thosecut-throat characters represented on the stage or in print-shops, withhigh boots, and red caps, and cloaks, and pistols, and hangers. Indeed,so far from there being any thing of the ruffian about him, he lookedand considered himself a very honest fellow. He cheated nobody, forthough he broke the revenue laws systematically and regularly, he had,perhaps, persuaded himself, by a course of reasoning not at all peculiarto himself, that there was no harm in so doing; possibly he had no ideathat those laws were bad laws, and injurious to the country; so out ofthe evil, as he could not remedy it, he determined to pluck thatrosebud--profit--to his own pocket. Remember that we are not at allcertain that he actually did reason as we have suggested; we are, weconfess, rather inclined to suspect that he found the occupationprofitable; that he had been engaged in it from his earliest days, andtherefore followed it without further troubling his head about itslawfulness or unlawfulness. So much for Joe Buntin and his cutter the"Pretty Polly."
His crew were a bold set of fellows, stanch to him, and true to eachother; indeed, most of them, as is usual, had a share in the vessel, andall were interested in the success of her undertakings; they were quiet,peaceable, and orderly men; their rule was never to fight, the timeswere too tranquil for such work, and a running noose before their eyeswas not a pleasant prospect. They trusted entirely to their wit andtheir heels for success, and provided one cargo in three could be safelylanded, they calculated on making a remunerating profit.
The days when armed smuggling craft, with a hundred hands on board biddefiance to royal cruisers, had long passed by, for we are referring toa period within the last six or eight years only, during the last daysof smuggling. Now the contraband trade is chiefly carried on in smallopen boats, or fishing craft, affording a very precarious subsistence tothose who still engage in it. After what has been said it may beconfessed that the "Pretty Polly" was chiefly employed in smuggling,though her ostensible, and, indeed, very frequent occupation, was thatof a pilot-vessel.
Now we must own that in those days we did not feel a proper and correcthatred of smugglers and their doings; the dangers they experienced, thedaring and talent they displayed in their calling, used, in spite of ourbetter reason, to attract our admiration, and to raise them to thedignity of petty heroes in our imagination. The dishonest merchant, thedealer in contraband goods, the encourager of crime, was the man whoreceived the full measure of our contempt and dislike--he who, skulkingquietly on shore, without fear or danger, reaped the profits of the boldseaman's toil.
Fairport, to which the "Pretty Polly" belonged, is a neat little town atthe mouth of a small river on the southern coast of England. Theentrance to the harbour is guarded by an old castle, with a few cannonon the top of it, and was garrisoned by a superannuated gunner, his oldwife and his pretty grand-daughter, who performed most efficiently allthe duties in the fortress, such as sweeping it clean, mopping out theguns, and shutting the gates at night. Sergeant Ramrod was a goodspecimen of a fine old soldier, and certainly when seeing his portlyfigure and upright carriage, and listening to his conversation, onemight suppose that he held a higher rank than it had ever been his fateto reach. He had seen much service, been engaged in numerousexpeditions in various parts of the world, and went through the wholePeninsular war; indeed, had merit its due reward, he should, he assuredhis friends, be a general instead of a sergeant, and so being rather anadmirer of his, we are also apt to think--but then when has merit itsdue reward? What an extraordinary hoisting up and hauling down therewould be to give every man his due! Sergeant Ramrod always went by thename of the Governor of Fairport Castle, and we suspect rather lik
ed thetitle. He was, in truth, much better off than the governors of half thecastles in the world, though he did not think so himself; he had notroops, certainly, to marshal or drill, but then he had no rounds tomake or complaints to hear, and his little garrison, composed of hiswife and grandchild, never gave him a moment's uneasiness, while hemight consider himself almost an independent ruler, so few and farbetween were the visits of his superior officers.
The town of Fairport consists of a long street, with a few offshoots,containing some sixty houses or so, inhabited by pilots, fishermen, andother seafaring characters, two or three half-pay naval officers, a fewcasual visitors in the summer months, a medical man or two, and aproportionate number of shopkeepers. The castle stands at one end ofthe town, close to the mouth of the river, the tide of which sweepsround under its walls, where there is always water sufficient to float aboat even at low tide. In the walls of the castle are a few loopholesand a small postern-gate or port to hoist in stores, and close to it isa quay, the chief landing-place of the town. Here a revenue officer isstationed night and day to prevent smuggling, though there are certainangles of the castle-wall which he cannot overlook from his post. Thisdescription we must beg our readers to remember.
One fine morning, soon after daybreak in the early part of the year, JoeBuntin and his crew appeared on Fairport quay with their pea-jackets andbundles under their arms, and jumping into their boat pulled on boardthe "Pretty Polly." Her sails were loosened and hoisted in a trice, thebreeze took her foresail, the mainsail next filled, the jib-sheet wasflattened aft, and slipping from her moorings she slowly glided towardsthe mouth of the river. The jib-sheet was, however, immediately afterlet go, the helm was put down, and about she came--in half a minutemore, so narrow is the channel, that she was again about, and at leastsix tacks had she to make before she could weather the westernmost spitat the entrance of the harbour, and stand clear out to sea.
"I wonder which of the French ports she's bound to now," observed acoast-guard man to a companion who had just joined him on the littlequay close to the castle. "After some of her old tricks, I warrant."
"We shall have to keep a sharp look-out after him, or he'll double onus, you may depend on it," replied the other; "Joe Buntin's a difficultchap to circumvent, and one needs to be up early in the morning to findhim snoozing."
"More reason we shouldn't go to sleep ourselves, Ben," said the firstspeaker; "I must report the sailing of the `Pretty Polly' to theinspecting commander, that he may send along the coast to give noticethat she's out. Captain Sturney would give not a little to catch the`Pretty Polly,' and he's told Joe that he'll nab her some day."
"What did Joe say to that?"
"Oh, he laughed and tried to look innocent, and answered that he waswelcome to her if he ever found her with a tub of spirits, or a bale oftobacco in her."
"I'll tell you, though, who'd give his right hand and something more, toboot, to catch Master Joe himself, or I'm very much mistaken."
"Who's that?"
"Why, Lieutenant Hogson, to be sure. You see he has set his eyes onlittle Margaret Ramrod, the old gunner's grandchild, but she don't likehim, though he is a naval officer, and won't have any thing to say tohim, and he has found out that Joe is sweet in that quarter, andsuspects that if it weren't for him, he himself would have more favour.Now, if he could get Joe out of the way, the game would be in his ownhands."
"Oh, that's it, is it? Well, I think the little girl is right, for Joeis a good fellow, though he does smuggle a bit; and as for LieutenantHogson, though he is our officer, the less we say about him the better."
While this conversation was going on, the "Pretty Polly" had reacheddown abreast of the quay, when Buntin, who was at the helm, waved hishand to the coast-guard men, they in return wishing him a pleasantvoyage and a safe return.
"Thank ye," answered Joe, laughing, for he and his opponents were onexcellent terms. "Thank ye, and remember, keep a bright look-out forme."
The cutter then passed so close to the castle that her boom almostgrazed its time-worn walls. Joe looked up at the battlements, and therehe saw a bright young face, with a pair of sparkling eyes, gazing downupon him. Joe took off his tarpaulin hat and waved it.
"I'll not forget your commission, Miss Margaret. My respects to yourgrandfather," he sang out.
There was not time to say more before the cutter shot out of hearing.The flutter of a handkerchief was the answer, and as long as a humanfigure was visible on the ramparts, Joe saw that Mistress Margaret waswatching him. Now, it must be owned, that it was only of late Joe hadyielded to the tender passion, and it would have puzzled him to say howit was. He had been accustomed to bring over trifling presents to thelittle girl, and had ingratiated himself with the old soldier, by thegift now and then of a few bottles of real cognac; but he scarcelysuspected that his "Pretty Polly," his fast-sailing craft, had any rivalin his affections.
The day after the "Pretty Polly," sailed, Margaret was seated at herwork, and the old dame sat spinning in their little parlour in thecastle, while Mr Ramrod was taking his usual walk on the quay, when aloud tap was heard at the door.
"Come in," said the dame, and Lieutenant Hogson made his appearance.
Now, although by no means a favourite guest, he was, from his rank andoffice, always welcomed politely, and Margaret jumped up and wiped achair, while the dame begged him to be seated. His appearance was notprepossessing, for his face was pock-marked, his hair was coarse andscanty, and sundry potations, deep and strong, had added a ruddy hue tothe tip of his nose, while his figure was broad and ungainly. He threwhimself into a chair, as if he felt himself perfectly at home. "Ah,pretty Margaret! bright and smiling as ever, I see. How I envy yourhappy disposition!" he began.
"Yes, sir, I am fond of laughing," said Margaret, demurely.
"So I see. And how's grandfather?"
"Here he comes to answer for himself, sir," said Margaret, as old Ramrodappeared, and, welcoming his guest, placed a bottle and some glassesbefore him, while Margaret brought a jug of hot water and some sugar.The eyes of the lieutenant twinkled as he saw the preparations.
"Not much duty paid on this, I suspect, Mr Ramrod," he observed, as hesmacked his lips after the first mouthful.
"Can't say, sir. They say that the revenue does not benefit from anythat's drunk in Fairport."
"A gift of our friend Buntin's, probably," hazarded the officer.
"Can't say, sir; several of my friends make me a little present now andthen. I put no mark on them."
"Oh, all right, I don't ask questions," said the lieutenant.
"By the by, I find that the `Pretty Polly' has started on another trip."
"So I hear, sir," said Ramrod.
"Can you guess where she's gone, Miss Margaret?" asked the officer.
"Piloting, I suppose, sir," answered the maiden, blushing.
"Oh, ay, yes, of course; but didn't he talk of going anywhere on theFrench coast?"
"Yes, sir," answered Margaret, "he said he thought he might just look inat Cherbourg."
"And how soon did he say he would be back?" asked the officer.
"In four or five days, sir," said Margaret.
The lieutenant was delighted with the success of his interrogations, andat finding the maiden in so communicative a mood; so mixing a stiffertumbler of grog than before to heighten his own wits, he continued,"Now, my good girl, I don't ask you to tell me any thing to injure ourfriend Buntin, but did he chance to let drop before you where heproposed to make his land-fall on his return--you understand, where heintended to touch first before he brings the `Pretty Polly' intoFairport?"
"Dear me, I did hear him talk of looking into--Bay; and he told Denman,and Jones, and Tigtop, and several others to be down there," answeredMargaret, with the greatest simplicity.
"I don't think the girl knows what she's talking of, Mr Hogson,"interposed old Ramrod, endeavouring to silence his grand-daughter. "Butof course any thing she has let drop, you won't make
use of, sir."
"Oh, dear, no! of course not, my good friend," answered Mr Hogson. "Imerely asked for curiosity's sake. But I must wish you good afternoon.I have my duties to attend to--duty before pleasure, you know, MrRamrod. Good-by, Miss Margaret, my ocean lily--a good afternoon to you,old hero of a hundred fights;" and, gulping down the contents of histumbler, with no very steady steps the officer took his leave.
As soon as he was gone, Ramrod scolded his grandchild for her imprudencein speaking of Buntin's affairs.
"You don't know the injury you may have done him," he added; "but itnever does to trust a female with what you don't want known."
"Perhaps not, grandfather," said Margaret, smiling archly. "But Joetold me that I might just let it fall, if I had an opportunity, that hewas going to run a crop at--Bay, and I could not resist the temptationwhen Mr Hogson asked me, thinking I was so simple all the time. I'msure, however, I wish that Joe would give over smuggling altogether.It's very wrong, I tell him, and very dangerous; but he promises me thatif he can but secure two more cargoes, he'll give it up altogether. I'msure I wish he would."
"So do I, girl, with all my heart; for it does not become me, an officerof the government, to associate with one who constantly breaks the laws;but yet, I own it, I like the lad, and wish him well."
Margaret did not express her sentiments; but the bright smile on herlips betrayed feelings which she happily had never been taught thenecessity of controlling.
Mr Hogson esteemed himself a very sharp officer; and, as he quitted thecastle, he congratulated himself on his acuteness in discoveringBuntin's plans. He had spies in various directions, or rather, peoplewhom he fancied were such, though every one of them was well-known tothe smugglers, and kept in pay by them. By them the information he hadgained from Margaret was fully corroborated, and accordingly he gave thenecessary orders to watch for the cutter at the spot indicated, while hecollected a strong body of men to seize her cargo as soon as thesmugglers attempted to run it. His arrangements were made withconsiderable judgment, and could not, he felt certain, fail of success,having stationed signalmen on every height in the neighbourhood of--Bay,to give the earliest notice of the smugglers' approach. As soon as itwas dark, he himself, with the main body of coast-guard men, allwell-armed, set off by different routes, to remain in ambush near thespot. While they lay there, they heard several people pass them ontheir way to the shore, whom they rightly conjectured were those whosebusiness it was to carry the tubs and bales up the cliffs to theirhides, as soon as landed. The night was very dark, for there was nomoon, and the sky was cloudy; and though there was a strong breeze,there was not sufficient sea on to prevent a landing; in fact, it wasjust the night the smugglers would take advantage of. Mr Hogson,having stationed his men, buttoned up his pea-jacket, and drawing hissouth-wester over his ears, set off along the shore to reconnoitre. Herubbed his hands with satisfaction when he perceived a number of peoplecollected on the beach, and others approaching from various directions.
"I'm pretty sure of forty or fifty pounds at least," he muttered, "andif I can but nab Master Joe himself, I'll soon bring his coy sweetheartto terms, I warrant. Ah! the cutter must be getting in with the land,or these people would not be assembling yet."
Just then a gleam of bright light shot forth from the cliffs, at nogreat distance from where he was standing; it was answered by the gleamof a lantern from the sea, which was instantly again obscured. Hewatched with intense anxiety, without moving for some minutes, when hethought that he observed two dark objects glancing over the waterstowards the shore. His difficulty was to select the proper moment forhis attack. If he appeared too soon, the people on shore would givenotice, and the boats would return to the cutter; if he did not reachthem directly after they touched the shore, he knew from experience thathe should certainly find them empty, a minute or two sufficing to carryoff the whole cargo. At last he had no doubt that the smugglers were athand; and, as fast as his legs could carry him, he hurried back to bringup his men.
We must now return to the "Pretty Polly." Besides Joe Buntin, the crewof the cutter consisted of Dick Davis, Tom Figgit, and Jack Calloway, asthorough seamen as were ever collected together, and all of themlicenced pilots for the Channel, each having a share in the craft; thenthere were, besides them, twice this number of men shipped on certainoccasions, who, though they received a share of the profits, had noproperty in her. Joe had determined to run great risks this voyage, inthe hopes of making large profits, and had invested a large part of hisproperty in the venture, which his agent had prepared ready for shipmentat Cherbourg. The wind shifted round to the nor'ard, and the "PrettyPolly" had a quick run across the Channel. The evening of the day sheleft Fairport, she was riding at anchor in the magnificent harbour ofCherbourg. As soon as they arrived, he and his mates went on shore, andthe agent, not expecting him that evening, being out of the way, theybetook themselves to a _cafe_ on the quay, overlooking the harbour. Joealways made himself at home wherever he went, and although he had noparticular aptitude for learning languages, he managed, without anygreat difficulty, to carry on a conversation in French, and his thoroughgood nature and ready fund of humour gained him plenty of friends amongthe members of the great nation.
The house of entertainment into which the Englishmen walked, is entitled"Le Cafe de la Grande Nation." The room was large, and had glass doorsopening on the quay, through which a view of the harbour was obtained.It was full of little round tables, with marble slabs, surrounded withchairs, and the walls were ornamented with glowing pictures of navalengagements, in which the tricolour floated proudly at the mastheads ofmost of the ships, while a few crippled barks, with their masts shotaway, and their sails in tatters, had the British ensign trailing in thewater. The prospect before them was highly picturesque. Directly infront was an old tower, the last remnant of the ancient Walls ofCherbourg. Beyond, spread out before them, was the broad expanse of itssuperb harbour, capable of containing all the fleet of France. In thecentre, where labourers were busily at work, was the breakwater, theintended rival of Plymouth, one entrance guarded by the Fort ofQuerqueville, the other by that of Pelee; and on the western shore,guarded by numerous ranges of batteries, was the naval arsenal anddockyard, the pride of the people of Cherbourg, and which, whenfinished, is intended to surpass any thing of the kind possessed by the_perfide Anglais_.
Joe and his friends, having ordered some _eau de vie_ and water, andlighted their cigars, took their seats near the door. They did notstand much on ceremony in passing their remarks on all they saw,particularly at the men-of-war's men who were strolling about the town.
"My eyes, Dick," exclaimed Tom Figgit, "look at them fellows with theirred waistcoats and tight jackets, which look as if they were made forlads half their size, and their trousers with their sterns in the forepart. Just fancy them going aloft."
"They are rum enough, but, to my mind, not such queer-looking chaps asthe sodgers," answered Dick.
"Do you know, Dick, that I've often thought that a Frenchman must becast out of quite a different mould to an Englishman? The clothes ofone never would fit t'other. It has often puzzled me to account forit."
"Why, Tom, it would puzzle one if one had to account for all the strangethings in the world," answered the other. "You might just as well askwhy all the women about here wear caps as big as balloons; they couldn'ttell themselves, I warrant."
Just then their conversation was broken off, that they might listen toJoe, who had entered into a warm discussion with the boatswain, or somesuch officer of one of the French ships-of-war, on the relativequalities of their respective navies. The _salle_ was full at the timeof naval and military officers of inferior grades, douaniers,gens-d'armes, and worthies of a similar stamp, all smoking, andspitting, and gesticulating, and talking together.
"Comment, Monsieur Buntin," said the Frenchman; "do you mean to say thatyou have got an arsenal as large as le notre de Cherbourg in the wholeof England?"
"
I don't know how that may be," answered Joe, quietly; "Portsmouth isn'tsmall, and Plymouth isn't small, but perhaps we don't require them sobig. We get our enemies to build ships for us."
"Bah," exclaimed the Frenchman, shrugging his shoulders; "les perfides!"
Just then a fine frigate was seen rounding Point Querqueville. Like astately swan slowly she glided through the water till, when sheapproached the town, her rigging was crowded with men, her courses wereclewed up, her topsails and topgallant-sails were furled, and she swunground to her anchor. She was a model of symmetry and beauty, and theFrenchmen looked on with admiration.
"There," exclaimed Joe's friend, "n'est-ce pas que c'est belle? Haveyou got a ship in the whole English navy like her?"
"I don't know," answered Joe, innocently. "But if there came a war, wevery soon should, I can tell you."
"Comment?" said the Frenchman.
"Why you see, monsieur, we should have she."
"Sare!" exclaimed half a dozen Frenchmen, starting up and drawing theirswords. "Do you mean to insult La Grande Nation?"
Whereupon Tom Figgit and Dick Davis, though they did not exactlycomprehend the cause of offence, jumped up also, and prepared for askirmish, which might have ended somewhat seriously for the threeEnglishmen, had not Joe's agent at that moment appeared and acted as apacificator between them, Joe assuring them that he had no intention ofinsulting them or any one of their nation, and that he had merely saidwhat he thought would be the case.
Joe did not spend a longer time than was absolutely necessary atCherbourg, and as soon as he got his cargo on board, the "Pretty Polly"was once more under way for England. Her hold was stowed with muchvaluable merchandise, chiefly silks, laces, and spirits. She had alsoon deck a number of empty tubs, and a few bales filled with straw. Assoon as he had got clear of the land, the wind, which had at first beensoutherly, shifted to the south-west, and it soon came on to blow veryfresh. This he calculated would bring him upon the English coast at tooearly an hour for his purpose, so when he had run about two-thirds ofhis distance, he lay to, with his foresail to windward, waiting for theapproach of evening.
As he walked the deck of his little vessel, with Tom Figgit by his side,he every now and then broke into a low quiet laugh. At last he gavevent to his thoughts in words.
"If we don't do the revenue this time, Tom, say I'm no better than oneof them big-sterned mounsieurs. What a rage that dirty spy, Hogson,will be in! Ha, ha, ha! It's a pleasure to think of it."
Tom fully participated in all his leader's sentiments, and by theirlight-hearted gaiety one might have supposed that they had some amusingfrolic in view, instead of an undertaking full of peril to theirpersonal liberty and property. All this time a man was stationed at themasthead to keep a look-out in every direction, that no revenue-cruisershould approach them without due notice, to enable them to get out ofher way.
We must now return to Lieutenant Hogson. As soon as he felt certainthat the boats had landed, he hurried down with his men to the beach.His approach was apparently not perceived, and while the smugglers wereactively engaged in loading themselves with tubs and bales of goods, hewas among them.
"Stand and deliver, in the king's name," he shouted out, collaring thefirst smuggler he could lay hands on, his men following his example.
For a moment the smugglers appeared to be panic-struck by the suddennessof the attack; but soon recovering themselves, as many as were atliberty threw down their loads and made their escape.
"Seize the boats," he added. "Here, take charge of this prisoner." Andrushing into the water, he endeavoured to capture the boat nearest tohim; but just as he had got his hand on her gunnel, the people in her,standing up with their oars in their hands, gave her so hearty a shove,that, lifting on the next wave, she glided out into deep water, while hefell with his face into the surf, from which he had some difficulty inrecovering himself with a thorough drenching; the other boat getting offin the same manner. In the mean time, signals had been made by therevenue-men stationed on the neighbouring heights, that the expected runhad been attempted, and the coast-guard officers and their people fromthe nearest stations hurried up to participate in the capture. Somecame by land, while others launched their boats in the hopes of cuttingoff the "Pretty Polly" in case she should not have discharged the wholeof her cargo.
With muffled oars and quick strokes they pulled across the bay; but ifthey expected to catch Joe Buntin, or the "Pretty Polly," they certainlywere disappointed; for although they pulled about in every directiontill daylight, not a sign or trace of her did they discover. Not sounfortunate, however, was Lieutenant Hogson, for although he did notcapture his rival, he made a large seizure of tubs, and several bales ofsilk, as he supposed, and a considerable number of prisoners, whichwould altogether bring him in no small amount of prize-money. Oneprisoner he made afforded him considerable satisfaction. It was noother than Tom Figgit, who, having jumped out of the boat with a tub onhis back, was seized before he had time to disengage himself from hisload, and this, with many a grimace, he was now compelled to carry.
"I hope you've made up your mind for a year in Winchester jail, MasterTom," said Mr Hogson, holding a lantern up to his face. "It isn't thefirst time you've seen its inside, I warrant."
"It would be, though; and what's more, I intend to spend my Christmaswith my wife and family," answered Tom, doggedly.
The prisoners were now collected, and marched up to the nearestcoast-guard station, but there were so many tubs and bales that thecoast-guard men were obliged to load themselves heavily with them; forit was found that should only a small guard be left to take charge ofthem, the smugglers would carry them off. The wind whistled coldly, therain came down in torrents, and the revenue people and their prisonershad a very disagreeable march through the mud up to the station, TomFiggit being the only person who retained his spirits and his temper--though he grumbled in a comical way at being compelled to carry a tubfor other people, and insisted that he should retain it for his troubleat the end of his journey. When he reached the guard-house, he slylytumbled the tub off his shoulders, and down it came on the ground withso heavy a blow that it was stove in. The names of the prisoners werenow taken down in due form, and they were told they must be locked uptill they could be carried before a magistrate, and be committed to jailfor trial. As soon as the officer had done speaking,--
"Please, sir," said Tom, "there's one of the tubs leaking dreadfully,and if it isn't looked to, it will all have run out before the morning;though for the matter of that, it doesn't smell much like spirits."
"Bring me a glass," said the lieutenant, who, wet and cold, was longingto have a drop of spirits. "I'll soon pass an opinion on your _eau devie_, Master Tom."
Tom smiled, but said nothing, while one of the men brought a glass andbroached the leaky tub.
"Show a light here," said Tom. "Well, I can't say as how it's got muchof the smell of spirits--hang me, if I can make it out."
Tom filled the glass, and, with a profound bow, worthy of a Mandarin,presented it to the officer. Lieutenant Hogson was thirsty, and,without even smelling the potion, he gulped it down.
"Salt water, by George!" he exclaimed, furiously, spitting andspluttering it out with all his might, and giving every expression tohis disgust.
Tom, forgetful of the respect due to a king's officer, burst into a fitof uproarious laughter.
"Well, I warned you, sir. I told you there was something odd about it--ha, ha, ha--and now you find what I said was true--ha, ha, ha!"
"What do you mean, you scoundrel?" cried the lieutenant, stampingfuriously. "How dare you play such a trick?"
"Nothing, sir, nothing," answered Tom, coolly; "you see I should havebeen very much surprised if there had been any thing else but saltwater; for you see we was bringing those tubs on shore, full ofsea-water, for a poor old lady who lives some way inland, and herdoctors ordered her to try sea-bathing on the coast of France; but asshe couldn't go there herself, you se
e, she has the water carried allthe way from there to here. It's a fancy she has, but it's very naturaland regular, and we get well paid for it, sir."
"Do you, Master Tom, actually expect me to believe such a pack of grosslies?" stammered out the lieutenant, as well as his rage would let him.
"I don't know, sir," answered the smuggler; "some people believe onething, some another, and I hope you won't think of keeping us here anylonger, seeing as how we've done nothing against the law in landing tubsof salt water for old Missis Grundy up at Snigses Farm, sir. You mayjust go and axe her if what I says isn't as true as gospel. It might bethe death of her if she didn't get her salt water to bathe in, you know,sir."
"Old Missis Grundy! I never heard of her before," exclaimed thelieutenant, growing every moment more angry; "and Snigses Farm, where'sthat, I should like to know?"
"Why, sir, you see it's two or three miles off, and rather a difficultroad to find," answered Tom, winking at his companions. "You first goup the valley, then you turn down by Waterford Mill, next you keep up byDead Man's Lane, and across Carver's Field, and that will bring youabout a quarter of the distance."
"Why, you scoundrel!" exclaimed the lieutenant, who recognised the namesof these places, and knew them to be wide apart, "you impudent rogue,you--why, you are laughing at me!"
"Oh, no, sir," answered Tom, demurely, pulling a lock which hung fromhis bullet-shaped head, "couldn't think of laughing at you; besides,sir, you knows one can't always make one's face as long as agrave-digger's apprentice's."
"I'll make it long enough before I've done with you, Master Tom, let metell you," exclaimed the officer. "Now let us see what are in thoseother casks and bales."
"What, all them that your people have had the trouble of carrying uphere?" cried Tom. "Lord! sir, the tubs, of course, is all full of saltwater, too, for Missis Grundy."
"We shall soon see that, my fine fellow," answered the officer, thinkingTom had only told the tale to annoy him; but to make sure, seizing agimlet, with his own hands he broached tub after tub, his faceelongating as he proceeded, and the visions of his prize-money graduallyvanished from his eyes. Tom and the other smugglers looking on all thetime with a derisive smile curling their lips, though prudence preventedtheir saying any thing which might further exasperate the lieutenant.
At last, with an angry oath, he threw down the gimlet. They one and allcontained nothing more potent than salt water. He then, with eagerhaste, anticipating disaster, tore open the bales. They were composedsolely of straw and a little packing cloth.
"Them be life-buoys, sir," said Tom, quietly. "We carries them nowalways, by the recommendation of the Humane Society."
The smugglers now burst into fits of laughter at the rage anddisappointment of the outwitted officer, and even his own men couldscarcely restrain their tittering at his extravagances. There was,however, not a shadow of excuse for detaining the smugglers. They had afull right to land empty tubs and life-buoys at any hour of the night,and they had not offered the slightest resistance when captured by thecoast-guard. In fact, as Tom expressed it while narrating hisadventures with high glee to Joe Buntin, they "fairly did the revenue."
The next morning, the "Pretty Polly" appeared beating up towardsFairport, and before noon she was at her moorings, and Joe wasexhibiting a variety of pretty presents to the delighted eyes of MissMargaret Ramrod. Rumours were not long in reaching her ears that one ofthe largest runs which had been known for ages had been made on thecoast at some little distance from Fairport, the very night LieutenantHogson seized the tubs of salt water; and Joe confessed that he had onlyone more trip to make before he settled for life.
We need not detail the events of the next few days in the quiet town ofFairport. Those we have narrated served for conversation to the goodpeople for full nine days, and during that time poor Mr Hogson neveronce ventured to show his face inside the castle-walls, for he had astrong suspicion, though an unjust one, that pretty Mistress Margarethad something to do with his disappointment. For her credit, however,we are certain that she was innocent of any intentional falsehood. Joesuspected that Mr Hogson would attempt to pump her; so, as we have seenthe contents of a bucket of water thrown down a ship's pump to make itsuck, Joe took care that the lieutenant should get something for hispains, by telling the young lady to answer, if she was asked, that shehad heard him say that he intended landing at--Bay.
For the three following weeks Joe Buntin contrived to spend several dayson shore in the society of Sergeant Ramrod's family, though the "PrettyPolly" during that time made several trips down Channel, and was verysuccessful in falling in with some large East Indiamen, the pilotagemoney of which was considerable; and besides that she landed severalrich passengers who paid well, so that Joe was rapidly becoming awealthy man. He would have been wise to stick to his lawful and regularcalling; but there was so much excitement in smuggling, and the profitsof one trip were so much more than he could gain in several winters'hard toil, that he could not resist the temptation. Had he taken thetrouble of comparing himself with others, he would, we suspect, haveconsidered himself a more honest man than the railroad speculators ofthe present day.
It was again the last quarter of the moon, and the nights were gettingdark, when the "Pretty Polly" once more left her moorings in FairportHarbour. Now it must not be supposed that she ran over at once to thecoast of France, and taking in a cargo, returned as fast as she could toEngland. Joe was not so green as to do that. He, on the contrary, asbefore, cruised about the Channel till he had put two of his pilots onboard different vessels, and, to disarm suspicion, they took very goodcare to present themselves at Fairport as soon after their return aspossible; and even Mr Hogson began to fear that there was very littleprospect of making prize-money by capturing the "Pretty Polly," or ofwreaking his vengeance on Joe.
As soon as the last ship into which he had put a pilot was out of sight,Joe shaped his course for Cherbourg, where he found a cargo of tubsready for him, but he this time did not take any silks in his venture.In a few hours he was again on his way across the Channel. The weatherwas very favourable. Now some people would suppose that we mean to saythere was a clear sky, a smooth sea, and a gentle breeze. Far from it.It blew so fresh that it might almost be called half a gale of wind; theclouds chased each other over the sky, and threatened to obscure eventhe stars, which might shed a tell-tale light on the world, and therewas a heavy sea running; in truth, it gave every promise of being adirty night. Nothing, however, in this sublunary world can be dependedupon except woman's love, and that is durable as adamant, true as thepole-star, and unequalled. The "Pretty Polly" was about fifteen milesfrom the land, and Joe and Tom Figgit were congratulating themselves onthe favourable state of the weather, when the breeze began to fall andveer about, and at last shifted round to about east-south-east.Gradually the sea went down, the clouds cleared off, and the sun shoneforth from the blue sky bright and warm.
"Now this is what I call a do," exclaimed Tom Figgit, in a tone ofdiscontent. "Who'd have thought it? Here were we expecting the finestnight Heaven ever made for a run at this time of the year, and now Ishouldn't be surprised that there won't be a cloud in the sky just as weought to be putting the things on shore."
"It can't be helped, Tom," answered Joe; "our good-luck has not donewith us yet, depend on it."
"I wish I was sure of it," replied Tom, who was in a desponding mood;--he had taken too much cognac the night before. "Remember the storyabout the pitcher going too often to the well getting a cracked nose.Now, captain, if I was you I'd just 'bout ship and run back to Cherbourgtill the weather thickens again. We should lay our course."
"Gammon, Tom. What's the matter with you?" exclaimed Joe. "One wouldsuppose that you had been and borrowed one of your wife's petticoats,and was going to turn old woman."
"You know, captain, that I've very little of an old woman about me, andthat it's for you I'm afeared more than for myself," replied Tom, in areproachful tone. "A year in
jail and the loss of a few pounds is theworst that could happen to me, while you would lose the vessel andcargo, and something else you lay more value on than either, I suspect."
"Well, well, old boy, we'll be guided by reason," said Joe. "We won'trun any unnecessary risks, depend on it. I'll just take a squint roundwith the glass to make sure that no cruiser has crept up to us with thisshift of wind."
Saying this, Joe carefully swept the horizon with his telescope, but forsome time it rested on nothing but the dancing sea and the distant land.At last, however, his eye caught a glimpse of what, to him, appeared avery suspicious-looking sail dead to windward.
"What do you make her out to be?" he asked, handing the glass to TomFiggit, and pointing towards the sail, which appeared no bigger than asea-gull's wing gleaming in the rays of the sun. Tom took a long lookat her.
"She's a big cutter, and no mistake," he answered, still keeping his eyeto the tube. "And what's more, she's standing this way, and coming uphand over hand with a fresh breeze. I don't like the cut of her jib."
"Let's have another squint at her," said Joe, taking the glass from themate's hand: then letting it come down suddenly, and giving a slap onhis thigh, he exclaimed, "You are right, Tom, by George; and what'smore, if I don't mistake by the way her gaff-topsail stands, she's the`Ranger' cutter which we gave the go-by in the winter, and they've vowedvengeance against us ever since."
Davis and Calloway then gave their opinion, which coincided with therest, nor did there appear to be any doubt that the approaching vesselwas the "Ranger."
The wind, as we said, had fallen, but there was still a considerableswell, the effects of the past gale, which made the little vessel pitchand tumble about, and considerably retarded her progress. Joe nowscanned his own sails thoroughly to see that they drew well, and thenglanced his eye over the side of the cutter to judge how fast she wasgoing through the water. He was far from satisfied with the result ofhis observations.
"It won't do," he remarked; "we must be up slick, and run for it, orshe'll be overhauling us before dark. If we was blessed with the breezeshe's got, we wouldn't mind her. Rig out the square-sail boom, bend onthe square-sail. Come, bear a hand my hearties, be quick about it.None of us have much fancy for a twelvemonth in Winchester jail, Isuppose. That'll do; now hoist away."
And himself setting an example of activity, the helm being put up, themain-sheet was eased off, a large square-sail set, and the cutter, deadbefore the wind, was running away from her supposed enemy. Thesquare-topsail was next hoisted, and every stitch of canvas she couldcarry was clapped on, and under the influence of the returning breeze,the "Pretty Polly" danced merrily over the waters, though not at allapproaching to the speed her impatient crew desired. Tom Figgit shookhis head.
"I thought it would be so," he muttered. "I knowed it when I seed thewind dropping. Well, if it weren't for Joe, and to see that blowedcoastguarder, Hogson, a-grinning at us, and rubbing his paws withdelight, I shouldn't care. If we might fight for it it would be adifferent thing, but to be caught like mice by a cat, without a squeakfor life, is very aggrawating, every one must allow."
Tom had some reason for his melancholy forebodings, for the "PrettyPolly" most certainly appeared to be out of luck. Do all she could, the"Ranger," bringing up a fresh breeze, gained rapidly on her. The peoplein the revenue-cruiser had evidently seen her soon after she saw them,and, suspecting her character, had been using every exertion to come upwith her. They had, in fact, long been on the watch for her, andquickly recognised her as their old friend. The smugglers walked thedeck, vainly whistling for a wind, but, though they all whistled inconcert, the partial breeze refused to swell their sails till it hadfilled those of their enemy. Nothing they could do, either wettingtheir sails, or altering her trim by shifting the cargo, would make the"Pretty Polly" go along faster. One great object was to retain aconsiderable distance from her till darkness covered the face of thedeep, when they might hope more easily to make their escape.
As the sun went down the heavens grew most provokingly clear, and thestars shone forth from the pure sky, so that the smugglers saw and wereseen by the revenue-cutter, and the character of the "Pretty Polly" wastoo well-known by every cruiser on the station to allow her to hope toescape unquestioned. Still Joe boldly held on his course. He neverwithdrew his eye from his pursuer, in order to be ready to takeadvantage of the slightest change in her proceedings, but he soon sawthat he must make the best use of his heels and his wits, or lose hiscargo. Poor Joe, he thought of his charming Margaret, he thought of hisgood resolutions, he thought of Tom's evil prognostications, but he wasnot a fellow to be daunted at trifles, and he still trusted thatsomething in the chapter of accidents would turn up to enable him toescape.
The breeze at last came up with the "Pretty Polly," but at the same timethe "Ranger" drew still nearer. All their means of expediting hermovements had been exhausted, every inch of canvas she could carry wasspread aloft, and even below the main-boom and square-sail-boom watersails had been extended, so that the craft looked like a large sea-bird,with a small black body, skimming, with outspread wings, along thesurface of the deep. The land, at no great distance, laid broad ontheir beam to the starboard. With anger and vexation they saw that alltheir efforts to save their cargo would probably be fruitless.
"It can't be helped, my lads," cried Joe; "better luck next time. Inwith all that light canvas. Be smart about it, stand by the square-sailhalliards--lower away; hoist the foresail again; down with the helm,Bill, while we get a pull at the main-sheet. We must run into shoalwater and sink the tubs. It will come to that, I see."
As Joe said, there was no time to lose, for the revenue-cruiser was nowa little more than a mile distant, looming large in the fast-increasingobscurity of night. There promised, however, to be too much lightduring the night for them to hope to elude the sharp and practised eyesof her lookouts. While the smuggler, with the wind nearly abeam, wasrunning in for the land, her crew were busily employed in getting thetubs on deck, and slinging them in long lines together, with heavyweights attached, over the side, so as to be able, by cutting a singlelanyard, to let them all sink at once. No sooner did they alter theircourse than their pursuer did the same. They had, at all events, gainedthe important advantage of escaping being overhauled in daylight. Theynow stood steadily on till they got within a quarter of a mile of theland, the revenue-cutter not having gained materially on them. By thistime every tub was either on deck or over the side.
"Starboard the helm a little, Tom--steady now!" sung out Joe; "we'llhave the marks on directly; I can just make out Pucknose Knoll andFarleigh church steeple. Now mind, when I sing out cut, cut all ofyou."
It was not without some difficulty that the points he mentioned could bedistinguished, and none but eyes long accustomed to peer throughdarkness could have seen objects on the shore at all. His aim was tobring certain marks on the shore in two lines to bisect each other, atwhich point the tubs were to be sunk, thus enabling him to find themagain at a future day.
"Starboard again a little, Tom--steady now--that will do--luff you may,luff--I have it. Cut now, my hearties, cut!" he exclaimed, and the nextmoment a heavy splash told that all the tubs slung outside had been cutaway, and sunk to the bottom. "Stand by to heave the rest overboard,"he continued, and a minute afterwards, with fresh bearings, theremainder of the cargo was committed to the deep. "Now let's haul upfor Fairport, and get home to comfort our wives and sweethearts. Betterluck next time."
With this philosophical observation, Joe buttoned up his pea-jacket, andtwisted his red comforter round his neck, determined to make himselfcomfortable, and to bear his loss like a man. By the "Pretty Polly's"change of course she soon drew near the "Ranger," when a shot from oneof the guns of the latter came flying over her masthead. On thissignificant notice that the cruiser wished to speak to her, Joe, notbeing anxious for a repetition of the message, let fly his jib-sheet,and his cutter coming round on the other tack, he ke
pt his foresail towindward and his helm down, thus remaining almost stationary. A boatsoon pulled alongside with the mate of the cruiser, who, with his crew,each carrying a lantern, overhauled every part of the vessel's hold, butnot even a drop of brandy was to be found, nor a quid of tobacco.
"Sorry, sir, you've taken all this trouble," said Joe, touching his hatto the officer. "I thought, sir, you know'd we was a temp'rancevessel."
It was diamond cut diamond. The officer looked at Joe, and burst outlaughing, though disappointed at not making a seizure.
"Tell that to the marines, Mister Buntin," he answered. "If you hadn't,half an hour ago, enough spirits on board to make the whole ship'scompany of a line-of-battle ship as drunk as fiddlers, I'm a Dutchman."
"I can't help, sir, what you thinks," replied Joe, humbly; "but Isuppose you won't detain us? We wants to get to Fairport to-night, todrink tea with our wives and nurse our babies."
"You may go, my fine fellow, and we will bring in your tubs in themorning," answered the mate, as he stepped into his boat.
"Thank ye, sir," said Joe, making a polite bow, but looking very muchinclined to expedite his departure with a kick, but discretion withheldhim.
"Let draw!" he sang out in a voice which showed the true state of hisfeelings, beneath his assumed composure; "now about with her."
In a short time after, the "Pretty Polly" was safely moored in FairportRiver.
The next morning at daybreak, the "Ranger" was seen hovering in ratherdangerous proximity to the spot where the tubs had been sunk. She wasthen observed to get her dredges out, and to be groping evidently forthe hidden treasures. In the course of the day, Joe and his crew hadthe mortification to see her come into the harbour with the greater partof their cargo on board. Of course they all looked as innocent as ifnone of them had ever before seen a tub, for there was nothing to betraythem, though it was not pleasant to see their property in the hands ofothers. The revenue-cutter then hauling alongside the quay, sent allthe tubs she had on board up to the castle, where they were shut upsecurely while she went back to grope for more.
Joe watched all these proceedings with apparently calm indifference,walking up and down all the time on the quay, with a short pipe in hismouth, and his hands in his pockets. No sooner, however, had darknessset in, than he and his companions might have been seen consultingearnestly together, and going round to the most trustworthy of theiracquaintance. What was the subject of their consultations may hereafterbe guessed at. Their plans, whatever they were, were soon matured, andthen Joe repaired to pay his accustomed visit to Sergeant Ramrod and hisgrand-daughter.
Joe Buntin was, as I have hinted, not the only lover Margaret Ramrodpossessed, which was, of course, no fault of hers. One of them, forthere might have been half-a-dozen at least, was James Lawson, acoast-guard man, belonging to Fairport; and if he was aware that he wasa rival of his superior officer it did not afflict him. As it happened,he was stationed at the castle to guard the tubs which had been capturedin the morning. Having seen that every thing was safe, he soon grewtired of watching on the top of the castle, for it was a dark, coldnight, with a thick, driving rain, and a high wind, so he persuadedhimself that there could be no harm looking into Sergeant Ramrod's snugroom, lighted up by pretty Margaret's bright eyes, and warmed by ablazing fire. The sergeant welcomed him cordially, and Margaret mixedhim a glass of hot brandy and water, while discussing which, a knock washeard at the castle-gate, on which Mistress Margaret, throwing her apronover her head, ran out to admit the visitors. She was absent a minuteor more; probably she had some difficulty in again closing the gates onso windy a night: at last she returned, followed by no less a personthan Joe Buntin, and his shadow, Tom Figgit.
A smile stole over Margaret's pretty mouth as she watched Joe, wholooked as fierce as he could at Lawson, and by Ramrod's invitation, sathimself down directly opposite the revenue-man. Lawson was not to bestared out of countenance, so, notwithstanding Joe's angry glances, hefirmly kept his post. Tom Figgit quietly sipped his grog, eyeing Lawsonall the time much in the way that a cat does a mouse she is going todevour, so that at last the revenue-man, feeling himself ratheruncomfortable, he scarcely knew why, helped himself thoughtlessly toanother stiff glass. Joe laughed and talked for all the party, and toldseveral capital stories, contriving in the interval to whisper a wordinto Margaret's ear, at which she looked down and laughed slyly. Shewas soon afterwards seen filling up the coast-guard man's glass, only bymistake she poured in Hollands instead of water. The error was notdiscovered, and Lawson became not only very sagacious, but brave in theextreme. After some time he recollected that it was his duty to keep alook-out from the top of the castle, and accordingly rose to resume hispost. Joe on this jumped up also, and wishing the old couple and theirgrand-daughter good-night, took his departure, followed by Tom; SergeantRamrod and Lawson closing the gates securely behind them.
No sooner were Joe and his mate outside the walls than they darted downa small alley which led to the water, and at a little sheltered slipthey found a boat, with a coil of rope and some blocks stowed away inthe stern-sheets. Joe, giving a peculiarly low whistle, two other menappeared crawling from under a boat, which had been turned with the keeluppermost on the beach, and then all four jumping in, pulled roundunderneath the castle-wall to a nook, where they could not be observedfrom the quay even in the daytime.
It was, as we have mentioned, blowing and raining, and as dark as pitch,so that our friends had no reason to complain of the weather. Afterfeeling about for some time, Joe discovered a small double line, towhich he fastened one of the stouter ropes, and hauling away on one endof it, brought it back again into the boat. Who had rove the small linewe cannot say, but we fear that there was a little traitor in thegarrison; perhaps Joe or Tom had contrived to do it before they enteredthe sergeant's sitting-room.
"Hold on fast," Joe whispered to his comrades; "I'll be up in a moment."Saying this, he climbed up the rope, and soon had his face flush withthe summit of the castle-walls. Looking round cautiously, he observedno one, so he climbed over the parapet, and advanced across the platformto the top of a flight of steps which communicated with the lower partof the building. He looked over the railing, but his eyes could notpierce the gloom, so he descended the steps, and had the satisfaction tofind Lawson fast asleep at the bottom of them, sheltered from the rainby one of the arches. "All's right: he won't give us much trouble, atall events," he muttered to himself; and returning to the parapet hesummoned his companions. Two other boats had now joined the first, and,one after the other, twelve smugglers scaled the walls. Others were, itmust be understood, watching at various points in the neighbourhood, togive the earliest notice of the approach of the coast-guard. Joestationed two men by the side of Lawson to bind and gag him if he awoke,which he was not likely to do, while the rest proceeded with their work.
They soon contrived to break open the door of the store, opening fromthe platform, where the tubs had been deposited; then each man, carryingone at a time, like ants at their work, they transported them to theparapet of the castle-wall. From thence, with great rapidity, they werelowered into the boats, and then conveyed round to the foot of a gardenbelonging to an uninhabited house, which, of course, had the characterof being haunted by spirits. Joe and his friends worked with a will, asmuch delighted with the thought of doing the revenue as at recoveringtheir property.
The greater number had been thus secured when the rain ceased, and theclouds driving away, the smugglers were afraid of being seen by theiropponents. They therefore secured the door of the nearly empty store,and all descending, unrove the rope from the breech of the gun to whichit had been fastened, so as to leave no trace of their proceedings.
The next morning Lawson, on recovering from his tipsy slumbers, seeingthe door closed, reported that all was right. Mr Hogson was the firstperson to make the discovery that all was wrong, and his astonishmentand rage may be more easily imagined than described. Nearly every tubof t
he rich prize had disappeared; and the lieutenant swore he wascertain that wicked little vixen, Margaret Ramrod, had something to dowith it.
Neither Sergeant Ramrod nor Lawson could in any way account for it; andas it would have been a subject of mirth to all their brother-officers,who would not have shared in the prize, the authorities of Fairportthought it wiser not to say much on the subject. Several persons weresuspected of having had a hand in the transaction; but the smugglerswere known to be too true to each other to afford the remotest chance ofdiscovering the culprits.
Soon after this Joe Buntin married Margaret Ramrod; and, wonderful torelate, forswore smuggling ever after. Whether her persuasions, or fromfinding it no longer profitable, had most influence, is not known; atall events, he is now one of the most successful and active pilotsbelonging to Fairport, and though he does not mention names, he is veryfond, among other stories, of telling how a certain friend of his didthe revenue.
As soon as old Sleet had finished his story, which was much moreeffective when told by him than as it now stands written down by me, hescraped his right foot back, made a swing with his hat, and was rollingforward, when Hearty cried out, "Stop, stop, old friend, your lips wantmoistening after that long yarn, I'm sure. What will you have,champagne, or claret, or sherry, or brandy, or rum, or--"
The honest seaman grinned from ear to ear.
"Grog," he answered, emphatically. "There's nothing like that to mymind, Mr Hearty. It's better nor all your French washes put together."
Due praise was bestowed on Joe Buntin's history, but he evidentlythought the extra glass of grog he had won of far more value.
"Health to you, gentlemen and ladies all, and may this sweet craft neverwant a master nor a mistress either," he rapped out; then fearing he hadsaid something against propriety, he rolled away to join his messmatesforward.
The Cruise of the Frolic Page 23
