'Fie! Mr. Vaughan, cried Cecilia Ossulton; 'you know it came from your heart.'
'Upon my word, Cissy, you are throwing the gauntlet down to the gentlemen,' observed Lord B.; 'but I shall throw my warder down, and not permit this combatà l'outrance. Iperceive you drink no more wine, gentlemen; we will take our coffee on deck.'
'We were just about to retire, my lord,' observed the elder Miss Ossulton, with great asperity; 'I have been trying to catch the eye of Mrs. Lascelles for some time, but——'
'I was looking another way, I presume,' interrupted Mrs. Lascelles, smiling.
'I am afraid that I am the unfortunate culprit,' said Mr. Seagrove. 'I was telling a little anecdote to Mrs. Lascelles——'
'Which, of course, from its being communicated in an undertone, was not proper for all the company to hear,' replied the elder Miss Ossulton; 'but if Mrs. Lascelles is now ready——' continued she, bridling up, as she rose from her chair.
'At all events, I can hear the remainder of it on deck,' replied Mrs. Lascelles. The ladies rose and went into the cabin, Cecilia and Mrs. Lascelles exchanging very significant smiles as they followed the precise spinster, who did not choose that Mrs. Lascelles should take the lead merely because she had once happened to have been married. The gentlemen also broke up, and went on deck.
'We have a nice breeze now, my lord,' observed Mr. Stewart, who had remained on deck, 'and we lie right up Channel.'
'So much the better,' replied his lordship; 'we ought to have been anchored at Cowes a week ago. They will all be there before us.'
'Tell Mr. Simpson to bring me a light for my cigar,' said Mr. Ossulton to one of the men.
Mr. Stewart went down to his dinner; the ladies and the coffee came on deck; the breeze was fine, the weather (it was April) almost warm; and the yacht, whose name was theArrow, assisted by the tide, soon left the Mewstone far astern.
Reader, have you ever been at Portsmouth? If you have, you must have been delighted with the view from the saluting battery; and if you have not, you had better go there as soon as you can. From the saluting battery you may look up the harbour, and see much of what I have described at Plymouth; the scenery is different, but similar arsenals and dockyards, and an equal portion of our stupendous navy, are to be found there; and you will see Gosport on the other side of the harbour, and Sallyport close to you; besides a great many other places, which from the saluting battery you cannot see. And then there is Southsea Beach to your left. Before you, Spithead, with the men-of-war, and the Motherbank crowded with merchant vessels; and there is the buoy where theRoyal Georgewas wrecked and where she still lies, the fish swimming in and out of her cabin windows; but that is not all; you can also see the Isle of Wight—Ryde with its long-wooden pier, and Cowes, where the yachts lie. In fact, there is a great deal to be seen at Portsmouth as well as at Plymouth; but what I wish you particularly to see just how is a vessel holding fast to the buoy just off the saluting battery. She is a cutter; and you may know that she belongs to the Preventive Service by the number of gigs and galleys which she has hoisted up all round her. She looks like a vessel that was about to sail with a cargo of boats; two on deck, one astern, one on each side of her. You observe that she is painted black, and all her boats are white. She is not such an elegant vessel as the yacht, and she is much more lumbered up. She has no haunches of venison hanging over the stern, but I think thereis a leg of mutton and some cabbages hanging by their stalks. But revenue cutters are not yachts. You will find no turtle or champagne; but, nevertheless, you will, perhaps, find a joint to carve at, a good glass of grog, and a hearty welcome.
Let us go on board. You observe the guns are iron, and painted black, and her bulwarks are painted red; it is not a very becoming colour, but then it lasts a long while, and the dockyard is not very generous on the score of paint—or lieutenants of the navy troubled with much spare cash. She has plenty of men, and fine men they are; all dressed in red flannel shirts and blue trousers; some of them have not taken off their canvas or tarpaulin petticoats, which are very useful to them, as they are in the boats night and day, and in all weathers. But we will at once go down into the cabin, where we shall find the lieutenant who commands her, a master's mate, and a midshipman. They have each their tumbler before them, and are drinking gin-toddy, hot, with sugar—capital gin, too, 'bove proof; it is from that small anker standing under the table. It was one that they forgot to return to the custom-house when they made their last seizure. We must introduce them.
The elderly personage, with grizzly hair and whiskers, a round pale face, and a somewhat red nose (being too much in the wind will make the nose red, and this old officer is very often 'in the wind,' of course, from the very nature of his profession), is a Lieutenant Appleboy. He has served in every class of vessel in the service, and done the duty of first lieutenant for twenty years; he is now on promotion—that is to say, after he has taken a certain number of tubs of gin, he will be rewarded with his rank as commander. It is a pity that what he takes inside of him does not count, for he takes it morning, noon, and night. He is just filling his fourteenth glass: he always keeps a regular account, as he never exceeds his limited number, which is seventeen; then he is exactly down to his bearings.
Lieutenant Appleboy.
The master's mate's name is Tomkins; he has served his six years three times over, and has now outgrown his ambition; which is fortunate for him, as his chances of promotion are small. He prefers a small vessel to a large one, because he is not obliged to be so particular in his dress—and looks for his lieutenancy whenever there shall be another charity promotion. He is fond of soft bread, for his teeth are all absent without leave; he prefers porter to any other liquor, but he can drink his glass of grog, whether it be based upon rum, brandy, or the liquor now before him.
Mr. Smith is the name of that young gentleman whose jacket is so out at the elbows; he has been intending to mend it these last two months, but is too lazy to go to his chest for another. He has been turned out of half the ships in the service for laziness; but he was born so—and therefore it is not his fault. A revenue cutter suits him, she is half her time hove-to; and he has no objection to boat-service, as he sits down always in the stern-sheets, which is not fatiguing. Creeping for tubs is his delight, as he gets over so little ground. He is fond of grog, but there is some trouble in carrying the tumbler so often to his mouth; so he looks at it, and lets it stand. He says little because he is too lazy to speak. He has served more thaneight years; but as for passing—it has never come into his head. Such are the three persons who are now sitting in the cabin of the revenue cutter, drinking hot gin-toddy.
'Let me see, it was, I think, in ninety-three or ninety-four. Before you were in the service, Tomkins——'
'Maybe, sir; it's so long ago since I entered, that I can't recollect dates—but this I know, that my aunt died three days before.'
'Then the question is, When did your aunt die?'
'Oh! she died about a year after my uncle.'
'And when did your uncle die?'
'I'll be hanged if I know!'
'Then, d'ye see, you've no departure to work from. However, I think you cannot have been in the service at that time. We were not quite so particular about uniform as we are now.'
'Then I think the service was all the better for it. Nowadays, in your crack ships, a mate has to go down in the hold or spirit-room, and after whipping up fifty empty casks, and breaking out twenty full ones, he is expected to come on quarter-deck as clean as if he was just come out of a bandbox.'
'Well, there's plenty of water alongside, as far as the outward man goes, and iron dust is soon brushed off. However, as you say, perhaps a little too much is expected; at least, infive of the ships in which I was first lieutenant, the captain was always hauling me over the coals about the midshipmen not dressing properly, as if I was their dry-nurse. I wonder what Captain Prigg would have said if he had seen such a turn-out as you, Mr. Smith, on his quarter-deck.'
'I should have had one turn-out more,' drawled Smith.
'With your out-at-elbows jacket, there, eh!' continued Mr. Appleboy.
Smith turned up his elbows, looked at one and then at the other; after so fatiguing an operation, he was silent.
'Well, where was I? Oh! it was about ninety-three or ninety-four, as I said, that it happened—Tomkins, fill your glass and hand me the sugar—how do I get on? This is No 15,' said Appleboy, counting some white lines on the table by him; and taking up a piece of chalk, he marked one more line on his tally. 'I don't think this is so good a tub as the last, Tomkins, there's a twang about it—a want of juniper; however, I hope we shall have better luck this time. Of course you know we sail to-morrow?'
'I presume so, by the leg of mutton coming on board.'
'True—true; I'm regular—as clockwork. After being twenty years a first lieutenant one gets a little method. I like regularity. Now the admiral has never omitted asking me to dinner once, every time I have come into harbour, except this time. I was so certain of it, that I never expected to sail; and I have but two shirts clean in consequence.'
'That's odd, isn't it?—and the more so, because he has had such great people down here, and has been giving large parties every day.'
'And yet I made three seizures, besides sweeping up those thirty-seven tubs.'
'I swept them up,' observed Smith.
'That's all the same thing, younker. When you've been a little longer in the service, you'll find out that the commanding officer has the merit of all that is done; but you'regreenyet. Let me see, where was I? Oh! it was about ninety-three or ninety-four, as I said. At that time I was in the Channel fleet——Tomkins, I'll trouble you for the hot water; this water's cold. Mr. Smith, do me the favour to ring the bell. Jem, some more hot water.'
'Please, sir,' said Jem, who was barefooted as well as bareheaded, touching the lock of hair on his forehead, 'the cook has capsized the kettle—but he has put more on.'
'Capsized the kettle! Hah!—very well—we'll talk about that to-morrow. Mr. Tomkins, do me the favour to put him in the report: I may forget it. And pray, sir, how long is it since he has put more on?'
'Just this moment, sir, as I came aft.'
'Very well, we'll see to that to-morrow. You bring the kettle aft as soon as it is ready. I say, Mr. Jem, is that fellow sober?'
'Yees, sir, he be sober as you be.'
'It's quite astonishing what a propensity the common sailors have to liquor. Forty odd years have I been in the service, and I've never found any difference. I only wish I had a guinea for every time that I have given a fellow seven-water grog during my servitude as first lieutenant, I wouldn't call the king my cousin. Well, if there's no hot water, we must take lukewarm; it won't do to heave-to. By the Lord Harry! who would have thought it?—I'm at number sixteen! Let me count—yes!—surely I must have made a mistake. A fact, by Heaven!' continued Mr. Appleboy, throwing the chalk down on the table. 'Only one more glass after this; that is, if I have counted right—I may have seen double.'
'Yes,' drawled Smith.
'Well, never mind. Let's go on with my story. It was either in the year ninety-three or ninety-four that I was in the Channel fleet; we were then abreast of Torbay——'
'Here be the hot water, sir,' cried Jem, putting the kettle down on the deck.
'Very well, boy. By the bye, has the jar of butter come on board?'
'Yes, but it broke all down the middle. I tied him up with a rope-yarn.'
'Who broke it, sir?'
'Coxswain says as how he didn't.'
'But who did, sir?'
'Coxswain handed it up to Bill Jones, and he says as how he didn't.'
'But who did, sir?'
'Bill Jones gave it to me, and I'm sure as how I didn't.'
'Then who did, sir, I ask you?'
'I think it be Bill Jones, sir, 'cause he's fond of butter, I know, and there be very little left in the jar.'
'Very well, we'll see to that to-morrow morning. Mr. Tomkins, you'll oblige me by putting the butter-jar down in the report, in case it should slip my memory. Bill Jones, indeed, looks as if butter wouldn't melt in his mouth. Never mind. Well, it was, as I said before—it was in the year ninety-three or ninety-four, when I was in the Channel fleet; we were then off Torbay, and had just taken two reefs in the topsails. Stop—before I go on with my story, I'll take my last glass; I think it's the last—let me count. Yes, by heavens! I make out sixteen, well told. Never mind, it shall be a stiff one. Boy, bring the kettle, and mind you don't pour the hot water into my shoes, as you did the other night. There, that will do. Now, Tomkins, fill up yours; and you, Mr. Smith. Let us all start fair, and then you shall have my story—and a very curious one it is, I can tell you; I wouldn't have believed it myself, if I hadn't seen it. Hilloa! what's this? Confound it! what's the matter with the toddy? Heh, Mr. Tomkins?'
Mr. Tomkins tasted; but, like the lieutenant, he had made it very stiff; and, as he had also taken largely before, he was, like him, not quite so clear in his discrimination. 'It has a queer twang, sir; Smith, what is it?'
Smith took up his glass, tasted the contents.
'Salt water,' drawled the midshipman.
'Salt water! so it is, by heavens!' cried Mr. Appleboy.
'Salt as Lot's wife! by all that's infamous!' cried the master's mate.
'Salt water, sir!' cried Jem in a fright, expecting asalteel for supper.
'Yes, sir,' replied Mr. Appleboy, tossing the contents of the tumbler in the boy's face, 'salt water. Very well, sir—very well!'
'It warn't me, sir,' replied the boy, making up a piteous look.
'No, sir, but you said the cook was sober.'
'He was not soverymuch disguised, sir,' replied Jem.
'Salt water, sir!' cried Jem. 'Yes, sir,' replied Mr. Appleboy, tossing the contents of the tumbler in the boy's face.
'Oh! very well—never mind. Mr. Tomkins, in case I should forget it, do me the favour to put the kettle of salt water down in the report. The scoundrel! I'm very sorry, gentlemen, but there's no means of having any more gin-toddy.But never mind, we'll see to this to-morrow. Two can play at this; and if I don't salt-water their grog, and make them drink it too, I have been twenty years a first lieutenant for nothing, that's all. Good-night, gentlemen; and,' continued the lieutenant, in a severe tone, 'you'll keep a sharp look-out, Mr. Smith—do you hear, sir?'
'Yes,' drawled Smith, 'but it's not my watch; it was my first watch; and just now it struck one bell.'
'You'll keep the middle watch, then, Mr. Smith,' said Mr. Appleboy, who was not a little put out; 'and, Mr. Tomkins, let me know as soon as it's daylight. Boy, get my bed made. Salt water, by all that's blue! However, we'll see to that to-morrow morning.'
Mr. Appleboy then turned in; so did Mr. Tomkins; and so did Mr. Smith, who had no idea of keeping the middle watch because the cook was drunk and had filled up the kettle with salt water. As for what happened in ninety-three or ninety-four, I really would inform the reader if I knew; but I am afraid that that most curious story is never to be handed down to posterity.
The next morning Mr. Tomkins, as usual, forgot to report the cook, the jar of butter, and the kettle of salt water; and Mr. Appleboy's wrath had long been appeased before he remembered them. At daylight, the lieutenant came on deck, having only slept away half of the sixteen, and a taste of the seventeenth salt-water glass of gin-toddy. He rubbed his gray eyes, that he might peer through the gray of the morning; the fresh breeze blew about his grizzly locks, and cooled his rubicund nose. The revenue cutter, whose name was theActive, cast off from the buoy, and, with a fresh breeze, steered her course for the Needles passage.
Reader! have you been to St. Maloes? If you have, you were glad enough to leave the hole; and if you have not, take my advice, and do not give yourself the trouble to go and see that or any other French port in the Channel. There is not one worth looking at. They have made one or two artificial ports, and they are no great things; there is no getting out or getting in. In fact, they have no harbours in the Channel, while we have the finest in the world; a peculiar dispensation of Providence, because it knew that we should want them, and France would not. In France, what are called ports are all alike—nasty, narrow holes, only to be entered at certain times of tide and certain winds; made up of basins and back-waters, custom-houses and cabarets; just fit for smugglers to run into, and nothing more; and, therefore, they are used for very little else.
Now, in the dog-hole called St. Maloes there is some pretty land, although a great deficiency of marine scenery. But never mind that. Stay at home, and don't go abroad to drink sour wine, because they call it Bordeaux, and eat villainous trash, so disguised by cooking that you cannot possibly tell which of the birds of the air, or beasts of the field, or fishes of the sea, you are cramming down your throat. 'If all is right, there is no occasion for disguise,' is an old saying; so depend upon it that there is something wrong, and that you are eating offal, under a grand French name. They eat everything in France, and would serve you up the head of a monkey who has died of the smallpox, assinge au petite vérole—that is, if you did not understand French; if you did, they would call ittête d'amour à l'Ethiopique, and then you would be even more puzzled. As for their wine, there is no disguise in that; it's half vinegar. No, no! stay at home; you can live just as cheaply, if you choose; and then you will have good meat, good vegetables, good ale, good beer, and a good glass of grog; and, what is of more importance, you will be in good company. Live with your friends, and don't make a fool of yourself.
I would not have condescended to have noticed this place, had it not been that I wish you to observe a vessel which is lying along the pier-wharf, with a plank from the shore to her gunwale. It is low water, and she is aground, and the plank dips down at such an angle that it is a work of danger to go either in or out of her. You observe that there is nothing very remarkable in her. She is a cutter, and a good sea-boat, and sails well before the wind. She is short for her breadth of beam, and is not armed. Smugglers do not arm now—the service is too dangerous; they effect their purpose by cunning, not by force. Nevertheless, it requires that smugglers should be good seamen, smart, active fellows, and keen-witted, or they can do nothing. This vessel has not a large cargo in her, but it is valuable. She has some thousand yards of lace, a few hundred pounds of tea, a few bales of silk, and about forty ankers of brandy—just as much as they can land in one boat. All they ask is a heavy gale or a thick fog, and they trust to themselves for success.
There is nobody on board except a boy; the crew are all up at the cabaret, settling their little accounts of every description—for they smuggle both ways, and every man has his own private venture. There they are all, fifteen of them, and fine-looking fellows, too, sitting at that long table. They are very merry, but quite sober, as they are to sail to-night.
The captain of theHappy-go-lucky,Jack Pickersgill.
The captain of the vessel (whose name, by the bye, is theHappy-go-lucky—the captain christened her himself) is that fine-looking young man, with dark whiskers meeting under his throat. His name is Jack Pickersgill. You perceive at once that he is much above a common sailor in appearance. His manners are good, he is remarkably handsome, very clean, and rather a dandy in his dress. Observe how very politely he takes off his hat to that Frenchman, with whom he has just settled accounts; he beats Johnny Crapeau at his own weapons.And then there is an air of command, a feeling of conscious superiority, about Jack; see how he treats the landlord,de haut en bas, at the same time that he is very civil. The fact is, that Jack is of a very good old family, and received a very excellent education; but he was an orphan, his friends were poor, and could do but little for him; he went out to India as a cadet, ran away, and served in a schooner which smuggled opium into China, and then came home. He took a liking to the employment, and is now laying up a very pretty little sum: not that he intends to stop: no, as soon as he has enough to fit out a vessel for himself, he intends to start again for India, and with two cargoes of opium he will return, he trusts, with a handsome fortune, and reassume his family name. Such are Jack's intentions; and, as he eventually means to reappear as a gentleman, he preserves his gentlemanly habits; he neither drinks, nor chews, nor smokes. He keeps his hands clean, wears rings, and sports a gold snuff-box; notwithstanding which, Jack is one of the boldest and best of sailors, and the men know it. He is full of fun, and as keen as a razor. Jack has a very heavy venture this time—all the lace is his own speculation, and if he gets it in safe, he will clear some thousands of pounds. A certain fashionable shop in London has already agreed to take the whole off his hands.
That short, neatly-made young man is the second in command, and the companion of the captain. He is clever, and always has a remedy to propose when there is a difficulty, which is a great quality in a second in command. His name is Corbett. He is always merry—half-sailor, half-tradesman; knows the markets, runs up to London, and does business as well as a chapman—lives for the day and laughs at to-morrow.
That little punchy old man, with long gray hair and fat face, with a nose like a note of interrogation, is the next personage of importance. He ought to be called the sailing-master, for, although he goes on shore in France, off the English coast he never quits the vessel. When they leave her with the goods, he remains on board; he is always to be found off any part of the coast where he may be ordered; holding his position in defiance of gales, and tides, and fogs: as for the revenue vessels, they all know him well enough, but they cannot touch a vessel in ballast, if she has no more men on board than allowed by her tonnage. He knows everycreek, and hole, and corner of the coast; how the tide runs in—tide, half-tide, eddy, or current. That is his value. His name is Morrison.
You observe that Jack Pickersgill has two excellent supporters in Corbett and Morrison; his other men are good seamen, active and obedient, which is all that he requires. I shall not particularly introduce them.
'Now you may call for another litre, my lads, and that must be the last; the tide is flowing fast, and we shall be afloat in half an hour, and we have just the breeze we want. What d'ye think, Morrison, shall we have dirt?'
'I've been looking just now, and if it were any other month in the year I should say yes; but there's no trusting April, captain. Howsomever, if it does blow off, I'll promise you a fog in three hours afterwards.'
'That will do as well. Corbett, have you settled with Duval?'
'Yes, after more noise andcharivarithan a panic in the Stock Exchange would make in England. He fought and squabbled for an hour, and I found that, without some abatement, I never should have settled the affair.'
'What did you let him off?'
'Seventeen sous,' replied Corbett, laughing.
'And that satisfied him?' inquired Pickersgill.
'Yes—it was all he could prove to be asurfaire: two of the knives were a little rusty. But he will always have something off; he could not be happy without it. I really think he would commit suicide if he had to pay a bill without a deduction.'
'Let him live,' replied Pickersgill. 'Jeannette, a bottle of Volnay of 1811, and three glasses.'
Jeannette, who was thefille de cabaret, soon appeared with a bottle of wine, seldom called for, except by the captain of theHappy-go-lucky.
'You sail to-night?' said she, as she placed the bottle before him.
Pickersgill nodded his head.
'I had a strange dream,' said Jeannette; 'I thought you were all taken by a revenue cutter, and put in acachot. I went to see you, and I did not know one of you again—you were all changed.'
'Very likely, Jeannette; you would not be the first who did not know their friends again when in misfortune. There was nothing strange in your dream.'
'Mais, mon Dieu! je ne suis pas comme ça, moi.'
'No, that you are not, Jeannette; you are a good girl, and some of these fine days I'll marry you,' said Corbett.
'Doit être bien beau ce jour là, par exemple,' replied Jeannette, laughing; 'you have promised to marry me every time you have come in these last three years.'
'Well, that proves I keep to my promise, anyhow.'
'Yes; but you never go any further.'
'I can't spare him, Jeannette, that is the real truth,' said the captain; 'but wait a little—in the meantime, here is a five-franc piece to add to yourpetite fortune.'
'Merci bien, monsieur le capitaine; bon voyage!' Jeannette held her finger up to Corbett, saying, with a smile, 'méchant!' and then quitted the room.
'Come, Morrison, help us to empty this bottle, and then we will all go on board.'
'I wish that girl wouldn't come here with her nonsensical dreams,' said Morrison, taking his seat; 'I don't like it. When she said that we should be taken by a revenue cutter, I was looking at a blue and a white pigeon sitting on the wall opposite; and I said to myself, Now, if that be a warning, I will see: if thebluepigeon flies away first, I shall be in jail in a week; if thewhite, I shall be back here.'
'Well?' said Pickersgill, laughing.
'It wasn't well,' answered Morrison, tossing off his wine, and putting the glass down with a deep sigh; 'for the cursedbluepigeon flew away immediately.'
'Why, Morrison, you must have a chicken heart to be frightened at a blue pigeon!' said Corbett, laughing, and looking out of the window; 'at all events, he has come back again, and there he is sitting by the white one.'
'It's the first time that ever I was called chicken-hearted,' replied Morrison in wrath.
'Nor do you deserve it, Morrison,' replied Pickersgill; 'but Corbett is only joking.'
'Well, at all events, I'll try my luck in the same way, and see whether I am to be in jail: I shall take the blue pigeon as my bad omen, as you did.'
Jeannette held her finger up to Corbett, saying, with a smile, 'méchant!' and then quitted the room
The sailors and Captain Pickersgill all rose and went to the window, to ascertain Corbett's fortune by this new species of augury. The blue pigeon flapped his wings, and then he sidled up to the white one; at last, the white pigeon flew off the wall and settled on the roof of the adjacent house. 'Bravo, white pigeon!' said Corbett; 'I shall be here again in a week.' The whole party, laughing, then resumed their seats; and Morrison's countenance brightened up. As he took the glass of wine poured out by Pickersgill, he said, 'Here's your health, Corbett; it was all nonsense, after all—for, d'ye see, I can't be put in jail without you are. We all sail in the same boat, and when you leave me you take with you everything that can condemn the vessel—so here's success to our trip.'
'We will all drink that toast, my lads, and then on board,' said the captain; 'here's success to our trip.'
The captain rose, as did the mates and men, drank the toast, turned down the drinking vessels on the table, hastened to the wharf, and in half an hour theHappy-go-luckywas clear of the port of St. Maloes.
TheHappy-go-luckysailed with a fresh breeze and a flowing sheet from St. Maloes the evening before theArrowsailed from Barn Pool. TheActivesailed from Portsmouth the morning after.
The yacht, as we before observed, was bound to Cowes, in the Isle of Wight. TheActivehad orders to cruise wherever she pleased within the limits of the admiral's station; and she ran for West Bay, on the other side of the Bill of Portland. TheHappy-go-luckywas also bound for that bay to land her cargo.
The wind was light, and there was every appearance of fine weather, when theHappy-go-lucky, at ten o'clock on the Tuesday night, made the Portland lights; as it was impossible to run her cargo that night, she hove-to.
At eleven o'clock the Portland lights were made by the revenue cutterActive. Mr. Appleboy went up to have a look at them, ordered the cutter to be hove-to, and then went down to finish his allowance of gin-toddy. At twelve o'clock the yachtArrowmade the Portland lights, and continued her course, hardly stemming the ebb tide.
Day broke, and the horizon was clear. The first on the look-out were, of course, the smugglers; they, and those on board the revenue cutter, were the only two interested parties—the yacht was neuter.
'There are two cutters in sight, sir,' said Corbett, who had the watch; for Pickersgill, having been up the whole night, had thrown himself down on the bed with his clothes on.
'What do they look like?' said Pickersgill, who was up in a moment.
'One is a yacht, and the other may be; but I rather think, as far as I can judge in the gray, that it is our old friend off here.'
'What! old Appleboy?'
'Yes, it looks like him; but the day has scarcely broke yet.'
'Well, he can do nothing in a light wind like this; and before the wind we can show him our heels; but are you sure the other is a yacht?' said Pickersgill, coming on deck.
'Yes; the king is more careful of his canvas.'
'You're right,' said Pickersgill, 'that is a yacht; and you're right there again in your guess—that is the stupid oldActivewhich creeps about creeping for tubs. Well, I see nothing to alarm us at present, provided it don't fall a dead calm, and then we must take to our boat as soon as he takes to his; we are four miles from him at least. Watch his motions, Corbett, and see if he lowers a boat. What does she go now? Four knots?—that will soon tire their men.'
The positions of the three cutters were as follows:—
TheHappy-go-luckywas about four miles off Portland Head, and well into West Bay. The revenue cutter was close to the Head. The yacht was outside of the smuggler, about two miles to the westward, and about five or six miles from the revenue cutter.
'Two vessels in sight, sir,' said Mr. Smith, coming down into the cabin to Mr. Appleboy.
'Very well,' replied the lieutenant, who waslyingdown in hisstandingbed-place.
'The people say one is theHappy-go-lucky, sir,' drawled Smith.
'Heh? what!Happy-go-lucky? Yes, I recollect; I've boarded her twenty times—always empty. How's she standing?'
'She stands to the westward now, sir; but she was hove-to, they say, when they first saw her.'
'Then she has a cargo in her;' and Mr. Appleboy shaved himself, dressed, and went on deck.
'Yes,' said the lieutenant, rubbing his eyes again and again, and then looking through the glass, 'it is her, sure enough. Let draw the foresheet—hands make sail. What vessel's the other?'
'Don't know, sir—she's a cutter.'
'A cutter? yes; maybe a yacht, or maybe the new cutter ordered on the station. Make all sail, Mr. Tomkins; hoist our pendant, and fire a gun—they will understand what we mean then; they don't know theHappy-go-luckyas well as we do.'
In a few minutes theActivewas under a press of sail; she hoisted her pendant, and fired a gun. The smuggler perceived that theActivehad recognised her, and she also threw out more canvas, and ran off more to the westward.
'There's a gun, sir,' reported one of the men to Mr. Stewart, on board of the yacht.
'Yes; give me the glass—a revenue cutter; then this vessel inshore running towards us must be a smuggler.'
'She has just now made all sail, sir.'
'Yes, there's no doubt of it. I will go down to his lordship, keep her as she goes.'
Mr. Stewart then went down to inform Lord B. of the circumstance. Not only Lord B. but most of the gentlemen came on deck; as did soon afterwards the ladies, who had received the intelligence from Lord B., who spoke to them through the door of the cabin.
But the smuggler had more wind than the revenue cutter, and increased her distance.
'If we were to wear round, my lord,' observed Mr. Stewart, 'she is just abreast of us and inshore, we could prevent her escape.'
'Round with her, Mr. Stewart,' said Lord B.; 'we must do our duty and protect the laws.'
'That will not be fair, papa,' said Cecilia Ossulton; 'we have no quarrel with the smugglers: I'm sure the ladies have not, for they bring us beautiful things.'
'Miss Ossulton,' observed her aunt, 'it is not proper for you to offer an opinion.'
The yacht wore round, and, sailing so fast, the smuggler had little chance of escaping her; but to chase is one thing—to capture another.
'Let us give her a gun,' said Lord B., 'that will frighten her; and he dare not cross our hawse.'
The gun was loaded, and not being more than a mile from the smuggler, actually threw the ball almost a quarter of the way.
The gun was loaded, and not being more than a mile from the smuggler, actually threw the ball almost a quarter of the way.
The gentlemen, as well as Lord B., were equally excited by the ardour of pursuit; but the wind died away, and at last it was nearly calm. The revenue cutter's boats were out, and coming up fast.
'Let us get our boat out, Stewart,' said his lordship, 'and help them; it is quite calm now.'
The boat was soon out: it was a very large one, usually stowed on, and occupied a large portion of, the deck. It pulled six oars; and when it was manned, Mr. Stewart jumped in, and Lord B. followed him.
'But you have no arms,' said Mr. Hautaine.
'The smugglers never resist now,' observed Stewart.
'Then you are going on a very gallant expedition indeed,' observed Cecilia Ossulton; 'I wish you joy.'
But Lord B. was too much excited to pay attention. They shoved off, and pulled towards the smuggler.
At this time the revenue boats were about five miles astern of theHappy-go-lucky, and the yacht about three-quarters of a mile from her in the offing. Pickersgill had, of course, observed the motions of the yacht; had seen her wear on chase, hoist her ensign and pendant, and fire her gun.
'Well,' said he, 'this is the blackest ingratitude: to be attacked by the very people whom we smuggle for! I only wish she may come up with us; and, let her attempt to interfere, she shall rue the day. I don't much like this, though.'
As we before observed, it fell nearly calm, and the revenue boats were in chase. Pickersgill watched them as they came up.
'What shall we do?' said Corbett, 'get the boat out?'
'Yes,' replied Pickersgill, 'we will get the boat out, and have the goods in her all ready; but we can pull faster than they do, in the first place; and, in the next, they will be pretty well tired before they come up to us. We are fresh, and shall soon walk away from them; so I shall not leave the vessel till they are within half a mile. We must sink the ankers, that they may not seize the vessel, for it is not worth while taking them with us. Pass them along, ready to run them over the bows, that they may not see us and swear to it. But we have a good half-hour and more.'
'Ay, and you may hold all fast if you choose,' said Morrison, 'although it's better to be on the right side and get ready; otherwise, before half an hour, I'll swear that we are out of their sight. Look there,' said he, pointing to the eastward at a heavy bank, 'it's coming right down upon us, as I said it would.'
'True enough; but still there is no saying which will come first, Morrison, the boats or the fog; so we must be prepared.'
'Hilloa! what's this? why, there's a boat coming from the yacht!'
Pickersgill took out his glass.
'Yes, and the yacht's own boat, with the name painted on her bows. Well, let them come—we will have no ceremony in resisting them; they are not in the Act of Parliament, and must take the consequences. We have nought to fear. Get stretchers, my lads, and handspikes; they row six oars, and are three in the stern-sheets: they must be good men if they take us.'
In a few minutes Lord B. was close to the smuggler.
'Boat ahoy! what do you want?'
'Surrender in the king's name.'
'To what, and to whom, and what are we to surrender? We are an English vessel coasting along shore.'
'Pull on board, my lads,' cried Stewart; 'I am a king's officer: we know her.'
The boat darted alongside, and Stewart and Lord B., followed by the men, jumped on the deck.
'Well, gentlemen, what do you want?' said Pickersgill.
'We seize you! you are a smuggler—there's no denying it: look at the casks of spirits stretched along the deck.'
'We never said that we were not smugglers,' replied Pickersgill; 'but what is that to you? You are not a king's ship, or employed by the revenue.'
'No; but we carry a pendant, and it is our duty to protect the laws.'
'And who are you?' said Pickersgill.
'I am Lord B.'