Part 5

"Totley, I say, and what I say I stick to, as brother Sol says."

"Ahoy, there!" called Jack from amidships. "What do you make of that light, Babbage?"

"Some one showing a signal from Totley, sir, two miles t'other side of Luscombe."

"No, it can't be at Totley. That's round a bend of the shore. It's at or near Luscombe itself. A smugglers' signal, eh?"

"Like as not, sir. They've been too quiet of late: a sure sign of something brewing, like a calm after a storm, as brother Sol might say."

"I'm pretty sure it's at Luscombe. But 'twill be rather hard to determine exactly in the darkness. Run her in a little toward shore, so that we can take a look at things."

A few minutes later the dim outlines of two prominent cliffs to the northeast and west-north-west respectively could be seen. Jack saw that he could determine the general direction of the light by those two well-known landmarks. Accordingly he ordered the cutter to be hove to; he then took its position with reference to the two cliffs, and the angle of the light. When this was done he went below and reported to Lieutenant Blake, who was enjoying a nap in his tiny cabin.

"You did very well, Hardy. We'll return to-morrow and test your observations. There's no confounded lugger or anything of that sort in sight, eh?"

"Nothing, sir."

"Well, I'll leave things to you. Run closer in shore, and keep a bright lookout. If there's nothing in sight, head her for Wynport, but keep a good offing off Bantock Point."

Carrying out these orders, Jack found that a mile farther in he lost sight of the light. He thought it worth while to run out again and see if it had disappeared altogether, but on returning to nearly the same spot at which the cutter had been hove to, he saw that the light was burning as brightly as ever. All at once it went out. Jack waited for some time to see if it reappeared, but the shore remaining in perfect blackness he saw no good in delaying further, and weathering the Point, with its spine of jagged rocks running out to sea, ran straight for Wynport.

They had not gone far when Babbage declared he saw a sail on the weather beam. Jack instantly put down the helm, but after cruising about for some time and finding nothing he concluded that the bo'sun had been mistaken.

"Another facer for old Onions!" whispered Turley.

At Wynport Mr. Blake put up at the _Dolphin_, leaving Jack on board. Early in the morning Jack met Mr. Goodman, the riding-officer, on his way to the inn. He had been informed, Goodman said, that the smugglers had made a run in the night, and that their cargo had been concealed somewhere about the premises of Gumley, the one-legged mariner on the hill. This news surprised Jack. It had never occurred to him that Gumley could have anything to do with the smugglers. But when he thought of Gumley's seclusion, his mysterious ways, the defenses of his cottage, and his bulldog, he began to wonder whether dust had been thrown in his eyes, and the apparently law-abiding gardener was after all engaged in the illicit trade. He told Lieutenant Blake what he knew of Gumley.

"Depend upon it, that's your man," cried that officer. "You'd better search his place, Mr. Goodman."

"Unluckily, sir, most of my men are off rummaging in another direction and won't be back till to-morrow."

"Well, I'll lend you some of my crew. And as you know the place, Mr. Hardy, I'll send you in charge."

"Very well, sir," said Jack, and he went off immediately to collect the men. Within half an hour he set out with a dozen of them, well armed with pikes and cutlasses. They marched through the fields and over the cliffs to Luscombe, avoiding the highroad. Arriving at Gumley's cottage, Jack rapped smartly on the gate and was answered as before by a furious barking from the dog. Gumley was some time in making his appearance, and Jack, becoming impatient, pulled off his coat, and hoisted himself on to the fence. Seeing who it was, Comely ceased to bark and wagged his tail in friendly recognition. Jack could not help feeling a little mean as he stooped and patted the dog's head, still more when Gumley appeared from the direction of the cottage, with his board in one hand and a fork in the other.

"Morning, sir," he said, with a smile. "I was looking for another visit from you."

"I'm afraid you won't think me very welcome this time, Gumley," said Jack gravely. "'Tis an unpleasant job, but I've got to search your place."

"My place, sir? And what do you expect to find?"

"'Tis reported that the smugglers ran a cargo ashore last night, and that you've got it, or part of it."

"Me! And you believe it, sir?"

"I don't know anything about it. My orders are to search, and I must do it. A dozen men are outside: you'd better open the gate and let them in."

"Very good, sir. But I must lock Comely up first, sir, else he'll leave the marks of his teeth somewhere. You're a friend of his; I introduced you proper myself, but I'll not introduce him to any preventive men that ought to know better than to come a-nosing round my little place. Who said as how 'twas here the smugglers brought their cargo, sir?"

"I don't know. Mr. Goodman heard it from some one."

"One of those villains down in the village, I'll be bound. Well, I might have expected it, sooner nor this. I tell you straight out, sir, never a shilling's worth of smuggled goods have passed my gate. I'm a king's man, leastwise was till I got my stump, and arter that I wouldn't demean myself by going a-smuggling. Howsomever, orders is orders, and search you must. I'll just tie up the dog, sir, and then open the gate, for Gumley bean't the man to shut his doors upon the king's orders."

Gumley's quiet manner made an impression on Jack, and he was half inclined to leave his errand unfulfilled. If the man had protested and blustered Jack would have been at once convinced that he was guilty, but his readiness to submit to the search was hardly that of a guilty man. Then it occurred to him that Gumley might be trying to throw dust in his eyes again. At all events, he could not return to Mr. Blake and confess that he had not carried out orders; so when the dog was secured and the men admitted he directed them to begin the search.

It was but the work of a few minutes to ransack the little cottage. Cupboards were opened, the stone flags of the floor tested, the loft between the rafters and the roof explored, but nothing was found. Gumley watched the operations in silence, puffing at a big pipe in which he was smoking cabbage leaves.

"We'll have to search the garden now, sir," said one of the men.

Gumley took his pipe from his lips.

"The garden!" he said. "Well, mind my artichokes. They bean't ripe, not till the first frost, and it won't do 'em no good to disturb 'em."

He knew that in expeditions of this kind every inch of ground would probably be explored. Smugglers had been known to have cunningly devised hiding-places beneath the soil, under the roots of apple trees, or pear trees, or raspberry bushes. He watched with a grim smile as the men spread out over the garden, falling on all fours to smell out any traces of brandy or tobacco. He said nothing when they dug over a plot of ground from which he had recently taken the last of his late potatoes. But when they approached a flourishing bed of artichokes he heaved a great sigh, and said:

"There goes two-pun-ten in Wynport market, and all in the king's name."

Jack had felt more and more uncomfortable as the search proceeded. When a square yard of the plot had been cleared of its tall green stalks he suddenly shouted:

"Give over, men. This is all a blind. There are no smuggled goods here. Gumley was a king's man like yourselves. I don't believe he has anything hidden; we'll sheer off and report to Mr. Blake that we can't find anything. Some one must have a spite against you, Gumley."

"I could have told you that, sir, but I keeps myself to myself, and 'twas not for me to stand up against the king's orders. Messmates all, I'm sorry you've had your blood warmed for nothing. Bless you, I don't bear you no ill-will; orders is orders, and God save the king!"

He took off his glazed hat as he spoke.

"Well, Gumley I'm sorry we disturbed you. Look here, take those artichokes up to the Grange when they're ripe and ask my cousin, the squire, to give you fifty shillings for them. Say I said so. Now, men, we'll get back. We owe the smugglers one for this, and we'll pay it back, all in good time."

*CHAPTER VII*

*THE BEST-LAID SCHEMES*

There was a good deal of grumbling among the men as they trudged back to Wynport. No man likes to be made a fool of, and a Jack Tar as little as any.

"This is what comes of doing landlubbers' work instead of fighting the French on sea," growled Turley.

A heavy rainstorm that came on did not improve their tempers, and when, just as they marched into Wynport, they were overtaken by Mr. Goodman, riding at a smart pace from a cross-road, they began to mutter uncomplimentary remarks about the zealous officer.

"Any luck, Mr. Hardy?" he cried, as he passed.

"None," replied Jack shortly.

"Sorry for that. Perhaps your search was not thorough enough: your men aren't used to it."

"Confound his impudence!" growled Turley, as the officer rode on. "One of us is worth three of his landsharks, anyway."

When Jack arrived at the _Dolphin_ Mr. Goodman was just leaving.

"Oh, Hardy!" cried Lieutenant Blake, as he entered, "Mr. Goodman tells me you've found nothing."

"Not a ghost of a thing, sir. Gumley's as honest as a judge, in my opinion. Some one has played a scurvy trick on him and us."

"Well, look at this."

He handed Jack a dirty, crumpled piece of paper, on which he read:

"_Mr. Goodman, sir, a runn will be made at binsey cove tonite.--From a frend._"

"Another trick for certain, sir," said Jack.

"Very likely. Goodman says 'tis a sure sign the run will be made somewhere else, if made at all, and in the opposite direction. He wants the cutter to cruise off Totley Point to-night after dark. His idea is that if we stand away in the afternoon as if for Luscombe, we shall lead the smugglers off the scent; then if we return after nightfall we shall take 'em unawares. He'll have a strong force in hiding at Totley Point; that's where he thinks the run will actually be made, right under his nose. It would be like the villains. Only a year ago, just after he came into this district, he got a similar letter, and the cargo was run miles away."

"Well, sir, if he's been caught that way once, the smugglers will hardly expect him to fall into the trap a second time."

"I'm not so sure about that. I don't fancy our friend Goodman has much of a headpiece. If he is the simpleton I imagine he is, he will think that the smugglers will take your view and expect him to be this time at Binsey Cove. Therefore, he'll go to Totley. The question is, where will the run be made?"

"Perhaps the light we saw last night may have something to do with it. Don't you think, sir, it would be a good plan if I took a boat's crew and watched the shore off Luscombe, leaving you with the rest of the men in the _Fury_ to assist Mr. Goodman in case of need?"

"Not a bad idea, Hardy. We'll drop a boat some distance out at sea at dusk; you can pull in with muffled oars if you come across anything suspicious."

"The first thing, sir, will be to find out about the light we saw."

"Right. Find Babbage and get the crew together. We'll be off at once."

When the _Fury_ reached the position from which the light had been observed it was at once seen that, unless Jack had been wrong in his bearings, the signal had not been made from the village.

"It was more in the direction of Congleton's Hollow, sir," said Jack. "We can't see the Hollow itself, but there's the Folly to the left; you can just see it over the trees: a tower where an old hermit lived alone with his broken heart. That would make an excellent signal station."

"You know it, eh?"

"Yes, sir. But it didn't look as if it was ever used now. The only doorway is barricaded, and my young cousin told me it had been like that ever since he could remember. He said the top was supposed to be dangerous, and the place was boarded up after an accident that happened ever so many years ago. There was no other way in; the youngster--an inquisitive little chap--has tried more than once, and always failed."

"Humph! Is it worth trying again?"

"I'd be mighty glad to see, sir. But I couldn't do it in daylight. I might be seen from the village. Yet I could hardly do much good at night unless some one happened to be there at the time."

"Well, we can't risk discovery. We don't want to scare the signalers away."

"Wouldn't it be best to land some distance down the coast one night, and get to the Folly about daybreak? I'd have the place to myself then."

"Right. We'll bide our time. Meanwhile, there's this anonymous letter to remember. I gave out at Wynport that we're going to run over to Weymouth; perhaps that will put our smuggling friends at Luscombe off the scent."

The _Fury_ kept away all day, returning to a point opposite Luscombe after nightfall. Lieutenant Blake told off Babbage and Turley and eight more of the men to accompany Jack, and, a boat being lowered and provided with muffled oars, the little party set off, while the _Fury_ set a course for Totley Point, where Mr. Goodman had a posse of preventive men on the watch.

It was more than an hour and a half's steady rowing to the shore, and Jack was not at all sure where he would strike the beach. Thinking over the likely places along the shore, he felt certain that the run would probably be attempted at a spot not far east of the path up which he had followed De Fronsac. He wished the smugglers to get there before him, for if the vessel they expected had not yet arrived, they would be keeping a good watch seaward, and his boat would run a great risk of being discovered. But he had found out that Turley was born at Wynport and knew the coast pretty well, having spent several years as a fisherman in the neighborhood, so that he was likely to recognize any landmarks as soon as they came in view.

It was a still night, and very dark. The oars made scarcely any noise as the men pulled steadily in toward the shore. At last Turley declared that he could just see the copse that crowned a chine leading down to the beach, near the path that Jack had followed.

"You're sure, Turley?" asked Jack in a whisper.

"Sartin sure, sir."

"He've got cat's eyes, sir," murmured Babbage.

"We need them to-night," said Jack, peering anxiously into the darkness. "Easy all, men."

He listened for sounds along the shore or from the sea. The breeze was very slight; it had become less as the boat neared the shore; and if it continued to die away there would soon be scarcely enough wind to carry a vessel in.

"We're about half a mile off, I think, Turley?"

"Just so, sir," replied Turley.

Jack was about to give the order to pull in a little closer when the man just in front of him, who was facing seaward like the other rowers, raised one hand from his oar, and pointing to the right said in a whisper:

"Sail on the larboard quarter, sir."

Glancing backward in the direction indicated, Jack could just distinguish in the distance a black shape gliding slowly up. He felt his heart jumping; the vessel had come so suddenly, so stealthily out of the blackness. Could his boat be seen from its deck? It was so low on the water that he hoped it might pass undetected. The men were crouching over their oars; there was dead silence in the boat, the crew scarcely daring to breathe. The dark shape came steadily on; it passed, and faded again into the darkness. Allowing time for it to get nearly in shore, Jack ordered the men to give way, and the boat again quickly moved landward. He knew he was risking discovery, but hoped that the attention of the watchers on shore would be directed on the larger vessel, and altogether overlook the smaller.

The coast hereabouts was rocky, and the approach to the shore had to be made with care. Jack heard low voices ahead; he guessed that the people on shore were giving directions to those on the vessel.

"Channel's narrow, sir," whispered Turley, "but there's a good depth of water at all states of the tide; 'tis nigh high tide now, and that there craft'll be able to run almost on to the beach and save a good deal of fetching and carrying."

"How far are we out now?"

"About a couple of cables' length, to my thinking, sir."

"Easy all, men. Cutlasses ready!"

Jack had already decided that it would be useless to attempt to land at any point on either side and creep on the smugglers, for there would certainly be watchers along the cliff. The attack, if made at all, must be made direct from the sea. He feared that, when the men gave way for a final dash in, the boat might strike a rock; but he could still see dimly the chase ahead, and the tide being high, as Turley had said, he resolved to take his chance of running aground. The boat had followed quickly in the wake of the larger vessel; with a little luck a straight dash might be quite successful, for where the smugglers' craft drew feet, his own scarcely drew inches, and he was so much excited at the prospect of his first encounter with the smugglers, that he was prepared to run no little risk.

Suddenly there was the sound of a sail being run down, of tackle creaking, of low voices. The smugglers worked quickly, he knew; the vessel would scarcely have anchored or otherwise made fast before they began to carry their cargo ashore. The moment was come. He caught his breath for an instant; then, gripping the tiller ropes firmly, he said:

"Now, men, lay out--send her along!"

The sounds of the muffled oars were smothered in the noise from the lugger and the men tramping on shore. So intent were the smugglers on their work that they were unaware of what was upon them. The boat dashed straight for the lugger, which had swung round so that her bow was first met. There was a shock; then a loud shout; and as Jack's men swarmed over on to the lugger's deck, they came face to face with a small knot of men at the foremast, who had evidently hurriedly collected to dispute the passage with the boarders.

Now shout answered shout. Barrels were dropped by the carriers and fell with sharp thuds on the deck or with loud splashes into the water. Cutlass clashed on cutlass. At the first alarm the men on shore came dashing back to rejoin their comrades, springing across the long double plank that formed the gangway, to a bold ledge of rock serving as a kind of natural quay.

"Surrender, in the king's name!" shouted Jack, rushing forward.

He was answered by a vigorous French oath. Next moment the foremost of the smugglers, singling out the young officer coming at the head of his men, aimed a shrewd blow at him with a cutlass. It was so dark that Jack could barely see the movement, but he just managed to swerve out of the way; then, shortening his arm he lunged, and felt with no little satisfaction that the weapon had got home.

At this moment he was almost carried off his feet by the vehemence of his own men, who in a compact body were sweeping all before them. In the rush and tumble Jack felt a heavy blow on his head and staggered, saving his fall by clutching at a halyard and leaning half-stunned against the mast.

To the din of shouting and blows was now added the shrill screech of the bo'sun's whistle. Having cleared the deck aft of the mainmast, Babbage and his men were making a dash for the gangway, upon which the smugglers were crowding back toward the lugger. But Babbage's zeal had outrun his discretion. Before he knew it his party was beset on all sides. French and English cries were mingled in one furious babel. No firearms were used; the sound of shots would carry far in the still night air, and might bring support to the king's men from a distance. But cutlasses and hangers were plied with vigor; the crew of the lugger, reinforced by the men from shore, outnumbered Jack's party by four to one, and these had much ado to defend themselves in their turn from the sturdy assaults of their opponents.

With an effort Jack pulled himself together and pressed forward to lend a hand. His men were being remorselessly driven back. Doggedly they fought, yielding only inch by inch; but it was clear that they were outmatched, and at length, by sheer weight of numbers, they were forced over the bulwarks into the sea. Turley, who had all his wits about him, contrived to cut the painter holding the boat to the lugger's side; and, hardly aware how he came there, Jack found himself hanging to the side of the boat, unable to do more than cling on for dear life. Two or three men managed to scramble into the boat; they rowed it ashore. When it beached, Jack and the men ran up across the shingle toward the cliffs. In a few minutes they were joined by others of their party, all dripping wet, and furious with rage at their defeat.

"'Tis all through old Turnip-tops," growled Turley. "The idea of his losing his head that way!"

"Anybody seen him?" asked Jack, whose teeth were chattering; he had not yet recovered from the blow on his head.

"Never a man, sir. But there's the lugger making sail. We've lost the cargo and got nothing for our pains but broken heads and such like."

Jack saw the dim shape of the lugger disappearing seaward. In five minutes every trace of the smugglers had vanished, except a broken keg or two on the shingle, from which gusts of the odor of spirits reached the men gathered in a knot above. By and by Babbage turned up, declaring that if it hadn't been for Turley the attack would have been a great success. Before long the party was complete, none having been killed, though several had had a narrow escape from drowning. They had been saved by the planks of the gangway, which the smugglers, in their haste to escape, had allowed to fall into the water.

Jack wondered why the smugglers had fled when it would have been an easy matter for them to overwhelm the king's men.

"Why, they were afeard, sir," said Babbage. "The noise was enough to bring all Dorset upon 'em, and how did they know but that the riding-officer was nigh, ready to come down on 'em? And so he ought to ha' bin."

"Well, they've let us off easily," said Jack. "We'd better get our boat afloat and hunt for the _Fury_."

"Ay, sir, and won't Mr. Blake be in a fury when he hears the tale! All we've got is cuts, bruises, and a ducking!"

*CHAPTER VIII*

*CONGLETON'S FOLLY*

It was several hours before the boat fell in with the _Fury_. Jack and the men were heartily glad when they saw the cutter's mast-head light. They scrambled on board, and while the men had to stand a good deal of rough chaff from their messmates, Jack's account of his failure was received by Lieutenant Blake with a quizzical smile.

"Ah, my boy, we have to take the rough with the smooth," was all that officer said. "I suppose you don't feel in very good trim for that little expedition you proposed?"

"Indeed, sir, I'm ready for anything. I must change my things and have the best supper the cook can give me; then you can put me on shore when you please. I've got a bone to pick with those rascals."

Consequently, about half an hour before dawn, Jack was landed at a spot about two miles east of Congleton's Folly. Lieutenant Blake arranged that the boat should be in waiting for him three or four hours later some two miles farther east, at a little cove which was fairly well sheltered from observation.

"Keep your weather eye open," were the lieutenant's parting words.