Part 11

"I won't peach," said Jack, laughing. "Speak freely? Of course you can. And you'd better tell me all about it now. You look as uneasy as if you were sitting on pins."

"So I be, sir, and that's the truth. No longer ago than last Wednesday, Mr. Goodman he chanced to come upon a string of carts carrying smuggled goods from Luscombe to Wickham Ferrers. He nabbed the whole lot, sir, horses and all. And my old mates got the notion into their noddles that 'twas me as blabbed--me, sir, what knowed no more about it than that there innocent dog. But they believe it; and there 'tis. They swore they'd make me smart for it, and I dursn't stir out o' my door for fear I get a good crack on the nob or something just as awk'ard."

"I don't understand why they're so down on you. You keep yourself to yourself, as you told me. Why should they think 'twas you split on them?"

"I make it out this way, sir. I'm a' old smuggler, and know all the secrets o' the trade. I'm a' old king's man, too. They don't square. I won't jine my old mates, and they, being a bit wooden-headed, thinks I'm agen 'em. I bean't agen 'em, only I bean't for 'em. I can't go agen the king, nor I can't go back on my old mates; but bless your soul, _they_ don't see what I mean when I says I keep myself to myself."

"Well, you can't run with the hare and hunt with the hounds. But what's that?"

He sprang up from his chair and went toward the shuttered window. Comely went to the door, growling. From without, muffled by the distance, came the tramp of heavy feet along the road, mingled with the hum of voices.

"'Tis come, sir," sighed Gumley, leaning back in his chair resignedly. "Here they be at last. I knowed this would be the end of it. They said they'd tar and feather me, and they be come to do it."

"Two can play at that game, Gumley. I'd sooner not be recognized now, but I'll not leave you to deal with 'em single-handed."

"I take it very kind o' you, sir, but there's no call for you to be mixed up in it. If they mean to get in, in they'll get, sure enough; and ye'll only land yourself in a nasty rumpus, and do no good. Thank ye kindly. I'll let ye out by the back door afore they come, and me and Comely'll do what we can, for chok' it all, it bean't in human nature to be tarred and feathered without a bit of a scrimmage."

"No, no. If you're going to make a fight of it, I'll lend a hand. We're well armed. You've your blunderbuss and a cutlass; I've two pistols and a dirk; and our good friend Comely here has excellent teeth, I'll be bound."

At this moment a loud shout was heard from the road, followed by an insistent knocking on the gate. Gumley stumped up the rickety stairs to the floor above, threw open the windows looking on the garden, and shouted:

"Who be you, and what do 'ee want?"

"We want you, Joe Gumley," came the hoarse answer, "and we're gwine to have 'ee, too."

"I bean't deaf, Tom Berry, so ye needn't bust your fog-horn. What do 'ee want wi' me?"

"We'll show 'ee. You bin peaching, you dirty mean sneaker. Come down along, and we'll give 'ee a fair trial afore the men as used to be your mates."

"No, thank 'ee, Tom. Whoever says I bin peaching says a lie, and as for trial, why, I bean't a fool, I bean't. If I wants trying I'll go afore a justice o' the peace like Squire Bastable, or a judge and jury at the 'sizes, and not afore Tom Berry or Bill Widdicombe or any other mumble-chopped chaw-bacon. See then, I don't want to use hard words to old ship-mates o' mine, but--"

Jack heard no more, for Gumley's words were drowned by a volley of shouts and curses from the men below. He let down the window with a bang.

"They be coming over, sir," he called to Jack. "'Tis all hands to repel boarders. They're mounting on balks of wood to 'scape the nails. Now they're over. And they be split into two parties, half a dozen each; and one's coming straight for the front door; t'other's gone round to the back. I be coming, sir, I be coming."

By the time he reached Jack's side the men had begun to batter simultaneously at both the doors with the balks of wood which, knowing Gumley, they had brought with them, evidently anticipating resistance. The men at the front door were protected by a narrow porch; those at the back were fully exposed; and Jack saw that unless something were done at once to check them they would soon be able to break a way in, for the doors were not very substantial pieces of timber, and could not long stand the heavy battering to which they were now being subjected.

He stood with Gumley and the dog at the front door.

"What's your blunderbuss loaded with, Gumley?" he said.

"Small shot, sir."

"Then I tell you what we'll do. I'll fling the door open; you fire at their legs; then we'll all three charge 'em. We've only half a dozen to deal with; the men at the back will stop work when they hear the row. They'll come rushing round. Be ready to get back and haul the dog off. I'll keep my pistols in reserve; the less firing the better; we don't want all Luscombe here. Lend me a muffler, quick!"

He pulled the brim of his hat down over his face, turned up the collar of his cloak, and wrapped the muffler Gumley gave him closely round his chin. All the time the men were hammering at the door, and Comely was moving restlessly about, uttering deep growls.

"Standby, Gumley!"

Jack quickly slipped the bolts, threw the door open, and dodged back. There was a blinding flash, a roar, and yells of pain and rage from the smugglers, who, crouching in the porch around their battering-ram, received the crammed charge of the blunderbuss about their legs. They dropped the timber, and gave back a little. Before they had recovered from their surprise, the bulldog, snarling with fury, was among them, and behind him came Jack and Gumley, who laid about them doughtily with cutlass and dirk--using, however, the flat, for neither wished to do any serious hurt unless they were hard-pressed.

Amazement was now turned to confusion and fright. The intruders had no thought but to hobble out of the way of these furious combatants. But as they pushed one another toward the garden they were met by their comrades from the rear, whom the shout and the cries had interrupted, as Jack expected. Their arrival only doubled the confusion. Amid the babel of shouts they could hear nothing of what had happened. Some of the men were still yelling under the blows of the dirk and cutlass; and when one howled "Ho! Hi! Help! The dog's got me!" they were seized with uncontrollable panic; and with one consent bolted down the garden and scrambled over the fence, with no small damage to their nether garments from the nails, never pausing until they perceived that no pursuit was attempted.

One man, however, was left on the field. In the entrance to the porch lay a big fellow groaning. Comely held him fast by the leg. Gumley hastened to him and tried to release him from the dog's teeth, but, finding that impossible, he dragged dog and man bodily into the cottage, slammed the door, and bolted it. Jack was already inside.

"Let go, Comely, old boy," said his master, stooping to release the man, who, half dead with fright, lay groaning where Gumley had dropped him. "Why, what are ye bellowing like a sea-serpent for?" he added. "His teeth never went further than your leggings! Who be ye for a chicken-hearted--why, dash my buttons, 'tis Bill Gudgeon! Oh, Billy, what a' example to set your good feyther! Oh, my goodness, won't he be took bad with the flutters when he hears this! Ahoy, Mr.----! Avast there, Joe Gumley, blowed if you wasn't just a-going to put your foot in it. Billy, my son, you come along o' me."

He hauled the trembling youth into the kitchen, and pushed him into a chair, where he sat immovable, in mortal terror of the bulldog, which stood by, fixing him with his thirsty eyes.

Meanwhile Jack had gone to the upper window to see what had become of the enemy. They were out of sight, but when he opened the window he guessed by their voices that they were in conference just beyond the fence.

"Ay, and more'n Gumley!"

In the still air of the frosty March evening the hoarse whisper came clearly to Jack's ears:

"In course; there was his dog."

"I knows that. But I seed another man, all in black, with his hat over his eyes and his face all swaddled up: Goodman hisself, maybe."

"Well, I be gwine home along. I've got a score o' pellets somewhere about my legs, and they'll p'ison my blood less I pick 'em out soon."

"Ay true, and we'll go lame for a month or more. Chok' it all! Who'd ha' thowt old Joe would ha' bin so fierce!"

As they were moving away, a gig rattled up and stopped.

"'Tis Mr. Gudgeon, so 'tis," Jack heard a rough voice say.

"Not so loud!" was the hasty answer. "What luck, lads?"

"None at all, and be hanged to it. We've not got nowt but a trouncing, Mr. Gudgeon."

"Lower, speak lower, man. What happened?"

"Blunderbuss and cutlass and dog's teeth; that's what happened, Mr. Gudgeon, as your boy Bill could tell 'ee. Why, where be the lad?"

"Been and creeped home along, by the look o't," said another man. "He bean't here. There's blood for 'ee! There's spirit! What a bold-hearted first-born you have got, to be sure, Mr. Gudgeon!"

"Hush, man! Here, come along. I can take four or five of 'ee in the gig, and you can tell me the whole story as we go."

The gig rattled away; the men for whom there was not room shambled after; and Jack smiled as he returned to the kitchen.

"There, Comely, watch him!" Gumley was saying. "I be gwine to look around the garden, sir, to make sure none on 'em be left."

Jack made no reply, but stood at the door while Gumley stumped round the inclosure. He came back by and by grinning.

"They be all gone, sir, all but this." He held up a pail out of which the handle of a brush was sticking, and a bundle of feathers. "'Twas by the back door, sir."

"Ah! I've a notion. Shut the door and come along, Gumley."

Keeping his feathers well covered, and deepening his voice to the lowest pitch possible, Jack addressed the prisoner, who sat in shivering stillness, his eyes fixed on the vigilant dog.

"Now, Bill Gudgeon, you shall choose. Spend the night with the dog, and go before Squire Bastable to-morrow; or use this brush you came to use--on yourself. 'Twould be a pity to waste such excellent tar."

"And the feathers be uncommon soft," added Gumley.

The victim lifted his eyes for one moment, but said never a word.

"Come, come, make up your mind. The dog--or the tar brush."

Still the lad hesitated. Fright seemed to have tied his tongue.

"Very well, the dog, then. If he goes for you in the night you'd better sing out."

"Watch him, Comely!"

The dog acknowledged the order with a growl of satisfaction, and Jack and Gumley moved toward the door.

"Stop, measter! Stop, Joe Gumley!" cried the unhappy youth, finding his voice at last. "Not the dog! For gracious goodness' sake, not the dog."

"Off with your coat then," said Jack, finding some difficulty in keeping his voice at the proper profundity.

"Ay, or your good feyther'll have the flutters worse'n ever," said Gumley. "Such a good coat, too good to spoil."

Bill Gudgeon removed his coat, always eying the dog, which stood watching with intelligent appreciation. Then Gumley handed him the brush.

"A little on the nose to begin with," said Jack.

Forthwith Bill's nose was black.

"Now the cheeks; no--a little more, if you please--yes, that's right. Now a dab across the forehead: don't spare the tar, there's plenty more in the pail--yes, that's capital! Now a few feathers, Gumley."

The trembling lad stuck the feathers, as they were handed to him, on the glistening tar. He groaned once, but Comely's echoing growl silenced him and made him hurry.

"Now I think he'll do," said Jack at last.

"Beautiful, sir! Whoever seed a better job this side of the line?"

"Listen, Bill Gudgeon! You'll tell your father that if Mr. Gumley is molested again, you and your mates will be hauled up before Squire Bastable and sent to cool your heels in the lock-up. You can go!"

Bill took his coat, rose from the chair, and sidled to the door, his eyes never leaving the dog. He was gone!

Jack sat down and laughed quietly.

"I think he's had enough, Gumley. Now I must go. I'll see you again soon."

*CHAPTER XVI*

*A RUN AT SANDY COVE*

It took Jack much longer in the darkness to return to the _Fury_ than it had taken to reach the cottage, and he found that Babbage was becoming uneasy.

"All safe, men?" he said.

"Ay, ay, sir. And you, sir?"

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

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

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

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

"SIR" (he wrote),--

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

"Yours truly, "JACK HARDY."

At six o'clock Mr. Goodman appeared.

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

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

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

"I do know where."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Send round the word; she'll be in in ten minutes. There's no preventives on the prowl, or we'd have heard afore now from Totley Point or Laxted Cove. Aha! Goodman and his joes have never yet got past Peter Bunce and Jan Derriman. Bill, a' believe I've got some o' they pellets in my calf yet."

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

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

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

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

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

Slipping out of his hiding-place, Jack very cautiously followed the last man, who carried no load and seemed to be in some authority over the rest. Jack could never venture near enough to see his features, nor even to get a complete view of his form. He tracked him to Congleton's Hollow, and there was compelled to pause and dodge some of the carriers who, having finished their work, were making their way homeward across the fields. Waiting a little while until all seemed safe, he crept across the Hollow to the summer-house where he had found the iron steps. It was from this that the carriers had come. Clearly the smuggled goods had been deposited there. He searched as thoroughly as he could in the darkness, but could find no trace of them.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

During the rest of Monday and all Tuesday the _Fury_ cruised down Channel, merely to kill time. The men wondered why their young commander did not sail out to sea and do some scouting work, if nothing else, but Jack did not wish to run any risks; besides, he was busily occupied in drawing up a message in the cipher used by the signaler at the Folly.

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

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