The Cruise of the Frolic Part 31

"We shall soon see that, my fine fellow," answered the officer, thinking Tom had only told the tale to annoy him; but to make sure, seizing a gimlet, with his own hands he broached tub after tub, his face elongating as he proceeded, and the visions of his prize-money gradually vanished from his eyes. Tom and the other smugglers looking on all the time with a derisive smile curling their lips, though prudence prevented their saying any thing which might further exasperate the lieutenant.

At last, with an angry oath, he threw down the gimlet. They one and all contained nothing more potent than salt water. He then, with eager haste, antic.i.p.ating disaster, tore open the bales. They were composed solely of straw and a little packing cloth.

"Them be life-buoys, sir," said Tom, quietly. "We carries them now always, by the recommendation of the Humane Society."

The smugglers now burst into fits of laughter at the rage and disappointment of the outwitted officer, and even his own men could scarcely restrain their t.i.ttering at his extravagances. There was, however, not a shadow of excuse for detaining the smugglers. They had a full right to land empty tubs and life-buoys at any hour of the night, and they had not offered the slightest resistance when captured by the coast-guard. In fact, as Tom expressed it while narrating his adventures with high glee to Joe Buntin, they "fairly did the revenue."

The next morning, the "Pretty Polly" appeared beating up towards Fairport, and before noon she was at her moorings, and Joe was exhibiting a variety of pretty presents to the delighted eyes of Miss Margaret Ramrod. Rumours were not long in reaching her ears that one of the largest runs which had been known for ages had been made on the coast at some little distance from Fairport, the very night Lieutenant Hogson seized the tubs of salt water; and Joe confessed that he had only one more trip to make before he settled for life.

We need not detail the events of the next few days in the quiet town of Fairport. Those we have narrated served for conversation to the good people for full nine days, and during that time poor Mr Hogson never once ventured to show his face inside the castle-walls, for he had a strong suspicion, though an unjust one, that pretty Mistress Margaret had something to do with his disappointment. For her credit, however, we are certain that she was innocent of any intentional falsehood. Joe suspected that Mr Hogson would attempt to pump her; so, as we have seen the contents of a bucket of water thrown down a s.h.i.+p's pump to make it suck, Joe took care that the lieutenant should get something for his pains, by telling the young lady to answer, if she was asked, that she had heard him say that he intended landing at--Bay.

For the three following weeks Joe Buntin contrived to spend several days on sh.o.r.e in the society of Sergeant Ramrod's family, though the "Pretty Polly" during that time made several trips down Channel, and was very successful in falling in with some large East Indiamen, the pilotage money of which was considerable; and besides that she landed several rich pa.s.sengers who paid well, so that Joe was rapidly becoming a wealthy man. He would have been wise to stick to his lawful and regular calling; but there was so much excitement in smuggling, and the profits of one trip were so much more than he could gain in several winters'

hard toil, that he could not resist the temptation. Had he taken the trouble of comparing himself with others, he would, we suspect, have considered himself a more honest man than the railroad speculators of the present day.

It was again the last quarter of the moon, and the nights were getting dark, when the "Pretty Polly" once more left her moorings in Fairport Harbour. Now it must not be supposed that she ran over at once to the coast of France, and taking in a cargo, returned as fast as she could to England. Joe was not so green as to do that. He, on the contrary, as before, cruised about the Channel till he had put two of his pilots on board different vessels, and, to disarm suspicion, they took very good care to present themselves at Fairport as soon after their return as possible; and even Mr Hogson began to fear that there was very little prospect of making prize-money by capturing the "Pretty Polly," or of wreaking his vengeance on Joe.

As soon as the last s.h.i.+p into which he had put a pilot was out of sight, Joe shaped his course for Cherbourg, where he found a cargo of tubs ready for him, but he this time did not take any silks in his venture.

In a few hours he was again on his way across the Channel. The weather was very favourable. Now some people would suppose that we mean to say there was a clear sky, a smooth sea, and a gentle breeze. Far from it.

It blew so fresh that it might almost be called half a gale of wind; the clouds chased each other over the sky, and threatened to obscure even the stars, which might shed a tell-tale light on the world, and there was a heavy sea running; in truth, it gave every promise of being a dirty night. Nothing, however, in this sublunary world can be depended upon except woman's love, and that is durable as adamant, true as the pole-star, and unequalled. The "Pretty Polly" was about fifteen miles from the land, and Joe and Tom Figgit were congratulating themselves on the favourable state of the weather, when the breeze began to fall and veer about, and at last s.h.i.+fted round to about east-south-east.

Gradually the sea went down, the clouds cleared off, and the sun shone forth from the blue sky bright and warm.

"Now this is what I call a do," exclaimed Tom Figgit, in a tone of discontent. "Who'd have thought it? Here were we expecting the finest night Heaven ever made for a run at this time of the year, and now I shouldn't be surprised that there won't be a cloud in the sky just as we ought to be putting the things on sh.o.r.e."

"It can't be helped, Tom," answered Joe; "our good-luck has not done with us yet, depend on it."

"I wish I was sure of it," replied Tom, who was in a desponding mood;-- he had taken too much cognac the night before. "Remember the story about the pitcher going too often to the well getting a cracked nose.

Now, captain, if I was you I'd just 'bout s.h.i.+p and run back to Cherbourg till the weather thickens again. We should lay our course."

"Gammon, Tom. What's the matter with you?" exclaimed Joe. "One would suppose that you had been and borrowed one of your wife's petticoats, and was going to turn old woman."

"You know, captain, that I've very little of an old woman about me, and that it's for you I'm afeared more than for myself," replied Tom, in a reproachful tone. "A year in jail and the loss of a few pounds is the worst that could happen to me, while you would lose the vessel and cargo, and something else you lay more value on than either, I suspect."

"Well, well, old boy, we'll be guided by reason," said Joe. "We won't run any unnecessary risks, depend on it. I'll just take a squint round with the gla.s.s to make sure that no cruiser has crept up to us with this s.h.i.+ft of wind."

Saying this, Joe carefully swept the horizon with his telescope, but for some time it rested on nothing but the dancing sea and the distant land.

At last, however, his eye caught a glimpse of what, to him, appeared a very suspicious-looking sail dead to windward.

"What do you make her out to be?" he asked, handing the gla.s.s to Tom Figgit, and pointing towards the sail, which appeared no bigger than a sea-gull's wing gleaming in the rays of the sun. Tom took a long look at her.

"She's a big cutter, and no mistake," he answered, still keeping his eye to the tube. "And what's more, she's standing this way, and coming up hand over hand with a fresh breeze. I don't like the cut of her jib."

"Let's have another squint at her," said Joe, taking the gla.s.s from the mate's hand: then letting it come down suddenly, and giving a slap on his thigh, he exclaimed, "You are right, Tom, by George; and what's more, if I don't mistake by the way her gaff-topsail stands, she's the 'Ranger' cutter which we gave the go-by in the winter, and they've vowed vengeance against us ever since."

Davis and Calloway then gave their opinion, which coincided with the rest, nor did there appear to be any doubt that the approaching vessel was the "Ranger."

The wind, as we said, had fallen, but there was still a considerable swell, the effects of the past gale, which made the little vessel pitch and tumble about, and considerably r.e.t.a.r.ded her progress. Joe now scanned his own sails thoroughly to see that they drew well, and then glanced his eye over the side of the cutter to judge how fast she was going through the water. He was far from satisfied with the result of his observations.

"It won't do," he remarked; "we must be up slick, and run for it, or she'll be overhauling us before dark. If we was blessed with the breeze she's got, we wouldn't mind her. Rig out the square-sail boom, bend on the square-sail. Come, bear a hand my hearties, be quick about it.

None of us have much fancy for a twelvemonth in Winchester jail, I suppose. That'll do; now hoist away."

And himself setting an example of activity, the helm being put up, the main-sheet was eased off, a large square-sail set, and the cutter, dead before the wind, was running away from her supposed enemy. The square-topsail was next hoisted, and every st.i.tch of canvas she could carry was clapped on, and under the influence of the returning breeze, the "Pretty Polly" danced merrily over the waters, though not at all approaching to the speed her impatient crew desired. Tom Figgit shook his head.

"I thought it would be so," he muttered. "I knowed it when I seed the wind dropping. Well, if it weren't for Joe, and to see that blowed coastguarder, Hogson, a-grinning at us, and rubbing his paws with delight, I shouldn't care. If we might fight for it it would be a different thing, but to be caught like mice by a cat, without a squeak for life, is very aggrawating, every one must allow."

Tom had some reason for his melancholy forebodings, for the "Pretty Polly" most certainly appeared to be out of luck. Do all she could, the "Ranger," bringing up a fresh breeze, gained rapidly on her. The people in the revenue-cruiser had evidently seen her soon after she saw them, and, suspecting her character, had been using every exertion to come up with her. They had, in fact, long been on the watch for her, and quickly recognised her as their old friend. The smugglers walked the deck, vainly whistling for a wind, but, though they all whistled in concert, the partial breeze refused to swell their sails till it had filled those of their enemy. Nothing they could do, either wetting their sails, or altering her trim by s.h.i.+fting the cargo, would make the "Pretty Polly" go along faster. One great object was to retain a considerable distance from her till darkness covered the face of the deep, when they might hope more easily to make their escape.

As the sun went down the heavens grew most provokingly clear, and the stars shone forth from the pure sky, so that the smugglers saw and were seen by the revenue-cutter, and the character of the "Pretty Polly" was too well-known by every cruiser on the station to allow her to hope to escape unquestioned. Still Joe boldly held on his course. He never withdrew his eye from his pursuer, in order to be ready to take advantage of the slightest change in her proceedings, but he soon saw that he must make the best use of his heels and his wits, or lose his cargo. Poor Joe, he thought of his charming Margaret, he thought of his good resolutions, he thought of Tom's evil prognostications, but he was not a fellow to be daunted at trifles, and he still trusted that something in the chapter of accidents would turn up to enable him to escape.

The breeze at last came up with the "Pretty Polly," but at the same time the "Ranger" drew still nearer. All their means of expediting her movements had been exhausted, every inch of canvas she could carry was spread aloft, and even below the main-boom and square-sail-boom water sails had been extended, so that the craft looked like a large sea-bird, with a small black body, skimming, with outspread wings, along the surface of the deep. The land, at no great distance, laid broad on their beam to the starboard. With anger and vexation they saw that all their efforts to save their cargo would probably be fruitless.

"It can't be helped, my lads," cried Joe; "better luck next time. In with all that light canvas. Be smart about it, stand by the square-sail halliards--lower away; hoist the foresail again; down with the helm, Bill, while we get a pull at the main-sheet. We must run into shoal water and sink the tubs. It will come to that, I see."

As Joe said, there was no time to lose, for the revenue-cruiser was now a little more than a mile distant, looming large in the fast-increasing obscurity of night. There promised, however, to be too much light during the night for them to hope to elude the sharp and practised eyes of her lookouts. While the smuggler, with the wind nearly abeam, was running in for the land, her crew were busily employed in getting the tubs on deck, and slinging them in long lines together, with heavy weights attached, over the side, so as to be able, by cutting a single lanyard, to let them all sink at once. No sooner did they alter their course than their pursuer did the same. They had, at all events, gained the important advantage of escaping being overhauled in daylight. They now stood steadily on till they got within a quarter of a mile of the land, the revenue-cutter not having gained materially on them. By this time every tub was either on deck or over the side.

"Starboard the helm a little, Tom--steady now!" sung out Joe; "we'll have the marks on directly; I can just make out Pucknose Knoll and Farleigh church steeple. Now mind, when I sing out cut, cut all of you."

It was not without some difficulty that the points he mentioned could be distinguished, and none but eyes long accustomed to peer through darkness could have seen objects on the sh.o.r.e at all. His aim was to bring certain marks on the sh.o.r.e in two lines to bisect each other, at which point the tubs were to be sunk, thus enabling him to find them again at a future day.

"Starboard again a little, Tom--steady now--that will do--luff you may, luff--I have it. Cut now, my hearties, cut!" he exclaimed, and the next moment a heavy splash told that all the tubs slung outside had been cut away, and sunk to the bottom. "Stand by to heave the rest overboard,"

he continued, and a minute afterwards, with fresh bearings, the remainder of the cargo was committed to the deep. "Now let's haul up for Fairport, and get home to comfort our wives and sweethearts. Better luck next time."

With this philosophical observation, Joe b.u.t.toned up his pea-jacket, and twisted his red comforter round his neck, determined to make himself comfortable, and to bear his loss like a man. By the "Pretty Polly's"

change of course she soon drew near the "Ranger," when a shot from one of the guns of the latter came flying over her masthead. On this significant notice that the cruiser wished to speak to her, Joe, not being anxious for a repet.i.tion of the message, let fly his jib-sheet, and his cutter coming round on the other tack, he kept his foresail to windward and his helm down, thus remaining almost stationary. A boat soon pulled alongside with the mate of the cruiser, who, with his crew, each carrying a lantern, overhauled every part of the vessel's hold, but not even a drop of brandy was to be found, nor a quid of tobacco.

"Sorry, sir, you've taken all this trouble," said Joe, touching his hat to the officer. "I thought, sir, you know'd we was a temp'rance vessel."

It was diamond cut diamond. The officer looked at Joe, and burst out laughing, though disappointed at not making a seizure.

"Tell that to the marines, Mister Buntin," he answered. "If you hadn't, half an hour ago, enough spirits on board to make the whole s.h.i.+p's company of a line-of-battle s.h.i.+p as drunk as fiddlers, I'm a Dutchman."

"I can't help, sir, what you thinks," replied Joe, humbly; "but I suppose you won't detain us? We wants to get to Fairport to-night, to drink tea with our wives and nurse our babies."

"You may go, my fine fellow, and we will bring in your tubs in the morning," answered the mate, as he stepped into his boat.

"Thank ye, sir," said Joe, making a polite bow, but looking very much inclined to expedite his departure with a kick, but discretion withheld him.

"Let draw!" he sang out in a voice which showed the true state of his feelings, beneath his a.s.sumed composure; "now about with her."

In a short time after, the "Pretty Polly" was safely moored in Fairport River.

The next morning at daybreak, the "Ranger" was seen hovering in rather dangerous proximity to the spot where the tubs had been sunk. She was then observed to get her dredges out, and to be groping evidently for the hidden treasures. In the course of the day, Joe and his crew had the mortification to see her come into the harbour with the greater part of their cargo on board. Of course they all looked as innocent as if none of them had ever before seen a tub, for there was nothing to betray them, though it was not pleasant to see their property in the hands of others. The revenue-cutter then hauling alongside the quay, sent all the tubs she had on board up to the castle, where they were shut up securely while she went back to grope for more.

Joe watched all these proceedings with apparently calm indifference, walking up and down all the time on the quay, with a short pipe in his mouth, and his hands in his pockets. No sooner, however, had darkness set in, than he and his companions might have been seen consulting earnestly together, and going round to the most trustworthy of their acquaintance. What was the subject of their consultations may hereafter be guessed at. Their plans, whatever they were, were soon matured, and then Joe repaired to pay his accustomed visit to Sergeant Ramrod and his grand-daughter.

Joe Buntin was, as I have hinted, not the only lover Margaret Ramrod possessed, which was, of course, no fault of hers. One of them, for there might have been half-a-dozen at least, was James Lawson, a coast-guard man, belonging to Fairport; and if he was aware that he was a rival of his superior officer it did not afflict him. As it happened, he was stationed at the castle to guard the tubs which had been captured in the morning. Having seen that every thing was safe, he soon grew tired of watching on the top of the castle, for it was a dark, cold night, with a thick, driving rain, and a high wind, so he persuaded himself that there could be no harm looking into Sergeant Ramrod's snug room, lighted up by pretty Margaret's bright eyes, and warmed by a blazing fire. The sergeant welcomed him cordially, and Margaret mixed him a gla.s.s of hot brandy and water, while discussing which, a knock was heard at the castle-gate, on which Mistress Margaret, throwing her ap.r.o.n over her head, ran out to admit the visitors. She was absent a minute or more; probably she had some difficulty in again closing the gates on so windy a night: at last she returned, followed by no less a person than Joe Buntin, and his shadow, Tom Figgit.

A smile stole over Margaret's pretty mouth as she watched Joe, who looked as fierce as he could at Lawson, and by Ramrod's invitation, sat himself down directly opposite the revenue-man. Lawson was not to be stared out of countenance, so, notwithstanding Joe's angry glances, he firmly kept his post. Tom Figgit quietly sipped his grog, eyeing Lawson all the time much in the way that a cat does a mouse she is going to devour, so that at last the revenue-man, feeling himself rather uncomfortable, he scarcely knew why, helped himself thoughtlessly to another stiff gla.s.s. Joe laughed and talked for all the party, and told several capital stories, contriving in the interval to whisper a word into Margaret's ear, at which she looked down and laughed slyly. She was soon afterwards seen filling up the coast-guard man's gla.s.s, only by mistake she poured in Hollands instead of water. The error was not discovered, and Lawson became not only very sagacious, but brave in the extreme. After some time he recollected that it was his duty to keep a look-out from the top of the castle, and accordingly rose to resume his post. Joe on this jumped up also, and wis.h.i.+ng the old couple and their grand-daughter good-night, took his departure, followed by Tom; Sergeant Ramrod and Lawson closing the gates securely behind them.

No sooner were Joe and his mate outside the walls than they darted down a small alley which led to the water, and at a little sheltered slip they found a boat, with a coil of rope and some blocks stowed away in the stern-sheets. Joe, giving a peculiarly low whistle, two other men appeared crawling from under a boat, which had been turned with the keel uppermost on the beach, and then all four jumping in, pulled round underneath the castle-wall to a nook, where they could not be observed from the quay even in the daytime.