Devon Boys Part 61

"Yes; go on."

"And that I was to stay with Mother Bonnet as long as you would let me, and when you turned us out, we were to take lodgings in Ripplemouth."

"When I turned you out!" said my father angrily. "Pish! Ah, well, stop till I turn you out then. There, I must go now, Sep; this will be a broken day for you. Bring your two friends over to the Bay, and we'll have tea and dinner all together."

He turned off and left us, but I saw him give Bigley a very friendly nod and smile as he went away, and I felt sure that he rather admired what Bigley had done, though he kept up the idea of being very fierce and indignant with him for striking an officer of the royal navy.

As soon as we were well alone Bob Chowne threw himself on the ground and began to laugh and wipe his eyes.

"Oh, what a game!" he cried, as he rolled about. "Didn't old Big run?"

"Enough to make anybody run when a bullet was after him," I said.

"But how he did go up the rocks. Just like a big rabbit. I say, Big, you were frightened."

"Yes, that I was," said Bigley frankly; "I don't know when I felt so scared. Made sure he would hit me, and then that the sailors would cut me down with their swords."

This disappointed Bob, who had fully expected to hear a denial of the charge of fear, and he sat up and stared at the speaker, who turned to me then.

"Why, Sep," he said, "they must have worked hard in the night to get all those things away. Do you know, I'm sure that must have been the _Hirondelle_. I wonder how they managed to get off."

"I know," I said suddenly.

"Yah! Not you," cried Bob. "Hark at old c.o.c.k Solomon, who knows everything."

"I don't care what you say," I replied. "I'm sure this is how they've got away."

"Well, let's hear," said Bob, and Bigley's eyes flashed with eagerness.

"Why, they haven't got away at all," I said. "They wouldn't dare to go down Channel after getting the cargo out of the cave, for fear of meeting the cutter just at daybreak."

"And you think they've gone up towards Bristol?" cried Bigley excitedly.

"Yes," I said; "and they are lying up somewhere over yonder on the Welsh coast till to-night, when they'll be off again."

"That's it," said Bigley. "I'm sure that's it."

"I don't believe it," said Bob sharply. "And if it is true, I'm ashamed of you both. Here's Sep Duncan taking part with the smugglers, and old Big hitting the officers in the eye, and bragging about his father. I shall look out for some fresh mates, that's what I shall do."

"Come and have some tea and dinner first, Bob," I said mockingly.

"Yes, I'll have some food first, for I'm getting hungry. My, what a game, though! How old Big did run when the lieutenant was going to give him a pill! Ha, ha, ha!"

We strolled about the sh.o.r.e, and then went into the cottage for a bit, and that afforded Bob another opportunity for a few sneers about this being Bigley's home now, addressing him as the master of the house, bantering him about being stingy with his cider, and finally jumping up as he saw my father coming down from the mine, and then we all went over to the Bay to our evening meal.

That night Bigley and I went part of the way home with Bob, and then I walked part of the way home with Bigley in the calm and solitude of the summer darkness.

We walked along the cliff path, and were about half-way to the Gap when Big caught me by the arm and pointed down below, about a quarter of a mile from the cliff, where, stealing along in the gloom, I caught sight of the sails of a small vessel, and directly after of those of another gliding on close at hand. They were so indistinct at first that I could see but little. Then I could make out that they were both luggers by their rig, and that one of them had three masts and the other only two.

CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN.

SUSPICIONS OF DANGER.

Like all bits of excitement the coming of the cutter was followed by a time of calm. Bigley seemed to have settled down to a regular life at the cottage, spending part of his days looking out to sea, and the other part up at the mine, where my father seemed now to give him always a very warm welcome.

We saw the revenue cutter off the Gap now and then, and we had reason to believe that the crew had landed and thoroughly examined the caves again, but we saw nothing of them; it was only from knowing that one evening the little vessel lay off the sh.o.r.e about a mile to the west of the Gap, and Bigley went along the sh.o.r.e at next low tide, and said afterwards that he thought he could make out footprints, but the tide had washed over everything so much that he was not sure.

He heard no news of his father as week after week rolled by, till all at once came a letter from Dunquerque, inclosing some money, and telling him that he had got away safely, and was quite well.

"He said," Bigley told me in confidence, for he did not show me the letter; "he said that if your father behaved badly to me I was to go away at once with Mother Bonnet and take lodgings at Ripplemouth, just as he told me; but I don't think I shall have to do that."

I laughed as he told me this, and then asked him if he was going to write back to his father.

"No," said Bigley; "he says I am not to write, because it might give people a clue to where he is. I don't care, now I know that he is quite well."

Then the time glided on, with everybody at the mine leading the busiest of busy lives. I was there every day, and the men won the lead, others smelted it and cast it into pigs, then the pigs were remelted and the silver extracted and ingots cast, which were stored up, after being stamped and numbered, down in the strong cellar beneath the counting-house floor.

I did a great deal: sometimes I was down in the mine, whose pa.s.sages began to grow longer; sometimes I was entering the number of pigs of lead that were taken over to Ripplemouth, and shipped at the little quay for Bristol; sometimes I was watching the careful process by which the silver was obtained from the lead, and learning a good deal about the art, while Bigley seemed to be growing more and more one of us, and worked with the greatest of earnestness over the various tasks I had to undertake.

"No news of old Jonas, father?" I said one day as we were walking along the cliff path to the mine, a lugger in the offing having brought him to my mind.

"No, Sep," said my father; "but I'm afraid that we shall have a visit from him some day, and a very unpleasant one."

"Why?" I asked.

"Because he will never forgive me about that cave business. I saw the look he gave me, my boy. He does not seem to have any very great ideas of the meaning of the word honour, and he evidently could not see then that I was bound to state what I had seen."

"But do you think he will owe you a grudge for that, father?"

"I am sure of it, my boy. He never forgave me for buying the Gap, and now I'm afraid this exposure of his smuggling tricks has made matters ten times worse."

"Oh, I hope not, father," I said eagerly.

"So do I, my boy; but I have very little faith in him, and I always dwell in expectation that some day or other, or some night or another, he will land with a strong party, and come up here to work all the mischief he can--perhaps carry off all our silver."

"But, father," I exclaimed, "that would be acting like a pirate."

"Well, Sep, there is not much difference between a pirate and a smuggler. They are both outlaws, and not very particular about what they do."

"Oh, but I hope we shall have no trouble of that sort, for Bigley's sake."

"So do I, Sep, but I feel this, that we are not safe, for we have made a dangerous enemy--one who can descend upon us at any time, and then get away by sea. What can we do if he makes such an attack?"

"Fight," I said bluntly. "We have plenty of arms, and the men will do just what they are bid."

"Yes," said my father; "but I should be deeply grieved for there to be any bloodshed. I've known what it is in my early days, Sep, and in spite of all that has been said about honour and glory there is always an unpleasant feeling afterwards, when in cool blood you think about having destroyed your fellow-creatures' lives."