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Cutlass and Cudgel

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<h3>Chapter Seventeen.</h3> 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?” <ANTIMG src="images/cudgl151.jpg" alt=""> 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 the beach. She’ll come on just as the tide’s turning, so as to have no fear of being left aground.” “You seem to know a good deal about it, my lad?” said the little lieutenant. “Good job for you,” was the reply, as the sails were lowered, and the cutter lay close in under the cliff waiting. The boats were down, the men armed, and the guns loaded, ready in case the smuggler vessel should attempt to escape. Then followed a long and patient watch, in the most utter silence; for, in the stillness of such a calm night a voice travels far, and the lieutenant knew that a strange sound would be sufficient to alarm those for whom he was waiting, and send the boat away again to sea. He might overtake her, but would more probably lose her in the darkness, and see her at daybreak perhaps well within reach of a port where he dare not follow. It was darker now, for clouds had come like a veil over the bright stars, but the night was singularly clear and transparent, as soon after eight bells the informer crept silently up to where the lieutenant was trying to make out the approach of the expected vessel. The little officer started as the man touched his elbow, so silently had he approached, and on looking down, he dimly made out that the man had divested himself of his heavy boots. “Do be quiet, master,” whispered the great fellow. “Can’t ’ford to lose fifty pounds for fear o’ getting one’s feet cold. See anything?” “No,” whispered the lieutenant, after sweeping his glass round. “Tide serves, and she can’t be long now. But two o’ your chaps keep whispering for’ard, and it comes back off the cliff. No, no—don’t shout at ’em. We daren’t have a sound.” “No,” replied the lieutenant; and he went softly forward toward where a group of men were leaning over the bulwarks, peering into the darkness and listening to the tide as it gurgled in and out of the rocks, little more than a hundred yards away. “Strict silence, my lads, and the moment you get the word, over into your boats and lay ready. Are those rowlocks muffled?” “Ay, ay, sir!” said the boatswain, who was to be in command of one of the boats. “No bloodshed, my lads. Knock any man down who resists. Five minutes after you leave the side here ought to make the smuggler ours. Hush! Keep your cheering till you’ve taken the boat.” A low murmur ran round the side of the cutter, and every eye was strained as the little officer whispered,— “A crown for the first man who sights her.” After a while, the lieutenant mentally said,— “I wish Mr Raystoke was here, he and Gurr could go in the other boat. I wonder where the lad can be!” He went cautiously aft along the starboard side of his vessel, looking hard at the frowning mass of darkness under which they lay, and thinking how dangerous their position would have been had the wind blown from the opposite quarter. But now they were in complete shelter, with the little cutter rising and falling softly on the gentle swell and drifting slowly with the tide, so that the White Hawk’s head was pointing seaward. He glanced over the side to see that the boats were in readiness, and then went aft without a sound, till all at once he kicked against something in the darkness beneath the larboard bulwark, to which he had crossed, and nearly fell headlong. “What’s—here? Who was—Oh, it’s those confounded boots. Hush, there; silence!” He said the last words hastily, for the crew made noise enough to startle any one within range, and the sound: were being followed by the hurried whisper of those who came running aft. “Back to your places, every one,” he said; and then the men drew off, becoming invisible almost directly, for the darkness was now intense, the lanthorns carefully hidden below, and once more all was still, and the little office rested his glass on the bulwark and carefully swept the sea. “Stupid idiot!” he said to himself. “Lucky for him he isn’t one of the crew. No, not a sign of anything.” But knowing that seeing was limited enough, he put his hand to his ear and stood leaning over the side, listening for a full ten minutes, before, with an impatient ejaculation, he turned to speak to the informer, who was not aft but probably forward among the men. He walked forward. “Where’s that man?” he whispered to the first sailor he encountered, who, like the rest, was eagerly watching seaward. “Went aft, sir.” The little officer went aft, but the fisherman was not there, and he passed back along the starboard side, going right forward among the crew. “Where is the fisherman?” he said. “Went aft, sir,” came from every one he encountered; and, feeling annoyed at the trouble it gave him, Mr Brough went aft again, to notice now that there was no man at the helm. He walked forward again. “Here!” he cried in an angry whisper, “who was at the helm?” “I, your honour,” said a voice. “Then why are you here, sir?” “That fisherman chap told me you said I was to go forward, sir, as he’d take a spell now, ready for running her round the head into the bay.” “Where is that man?” There was no reply, and more quickly than he had moved for months, the lieutenant trotted aft, and looked over the stern for the fisherman’s boat. It was gone. <hr> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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