Part 6 (2/2)
See, again, by the way the crew of the _Huzzar_ behaved, what a good example can effect. If we adhere to the Captain of our Salvation-- firmly and boldly confess him--we may be a.s.sured that we not only shall gain the respect of our a.s.sociates, but, which is of far more consequence, that we shall bring over others to love and confess him also.
Then, again, can we, after reading this account, think without sorrow and confusion of the way we have behaved to our heavenly King and Captain? We are told that because the king spoke to the officers and crew of the _Saint Fiorenzo_ in a kind manner, taking an interest in their private histories, they were loyal to the backbone. Does not our heavenly King and Father speak to us daily, through the Holy Scriptures, words full of kindness, love, and mercy? Surely he does, if we will but diligently read that Book of books. He allows us, too, as no earthly king can do, to go to him daily--every hour--every moment of our lives.
His ear is ever open to our prayers--he who keeps Israel neither slumbers nor sleeps--to tell him our private histories--our wants, our wishes, our hopes; to confess to him all we have done amiss--all our sins. And, moreover, he promises us that if we repent of them, and trust to the cleansing blood of Jesus, he will forgive them freely and fully, and give us what no earthly monarch can give, eternal life, and raise us to dwell with him in happiness unspeakable, for ever and ever.
CHAPTER NINE.
THE SMUGGLER'S FATE
THE SMUGGLER'S WIFE--HANSON STARTS ON HIS TRIP--HIS WIFE'S ANXIETY--THE REVENUE OFFICERS APPROACH--THE SMUGGLERS TAKE TO THE WATER--THE FIGHT--A FEARFUL END.
”Good-bye, Susan--good-bye, my wife. I'll bring thee over a silk gown, and such Brussels lace as you've never yet set eyes on. It will make a lady of you; and you're not far off being one now, to my mind, so don't fret--don't fret, Susan, dear.”
These words were uttered by Robert Hanson, a fine sailor-like-looking man. And a bold seaman he was, indeed; but was also unhappily known to be one of the most daring smugglers on the coast. Having kissed his wife affectionately, and knelt down by the side of the cradle in which their infant slept, to bestow another kiss on its smiling lips, he hurried from the cottage.
Susan looked after him sorrowfully. She had entreated him, over and over again--not as earnestly as she might, perhaps--to give up his dangerous and lawless occupation, and with a laugh he had told her that each trip should be his last. Did it never occur to him how his promise might be fulfilled? It did to Susan; and often and often she had trembled at the thought. She had been brought up by praying parents, and had been taught from her childhood to pray, but she could not pray now--she dared not--she felt it would be a mockery. She was wrong, though. She could not pray that G.o.d would protect her husband in his lawless occupation, but she might have prayed that her merciful Father in heaven would change his heart--would lead him from the paths of sin, and put a right spirit within him, even although he might be brought to poverty, and she might no longer enjoy the luxuries which he allowed her. She was sure, however, that he could make, by a lawful calling, enough for all their wants; whereas a large portion of what he now gained was spent in feasting and treating with open hand his smuggling companions; so at the end of the year, except for the dresses and other articles which were utterly useless to Susan, they were very little the better for all his toil and the many fearful risks he had run. She stood watching him with tearful eyes and a foreboding heart, as he descended the cliff on which their cottage stood.
Bob, as Hanson was called by his companions, looked in at three or four of the huts which formed the fis.h.i.+ng village at the foot of the cliff, and gave sundry directions to their inmates. The answer he received from all of them was much the same: ”Never fear, captain, we'll be ready.”
”You understand, Dore,” he said, stopping at one of the huts for some little time, ”you'll be on the look-out for us on Tuesday night at Durlstone Point. Now mind you also tell Green, the landlord of the 'Jolly Tar,' to have the two covered carts there, with his fastest horses and trusty men to drive--Bill Snow and Tom Thatcher--they are true men; but not that fellow Dennis--he'll bring the Coast Guard down on us one of these days, you'll see, if we trust him--and take care that we've no lack of hands to run the cargo up the cliff.”
Such were some of the directions Hanson gave to his confederates. He then, with active steps, proceeded to a small harbour at a little distance along the sh.o.r.e, where a fast-looking cutter of about forty tons lay at anchor. He hailed her. A preventive man (as the revenue officers are called), with his spygla.s.s under his arm, pa.s.sed him.
”What, Bob, off again?” he said, in a careless tone; ”we'll be on the look-out for you, if you'll tell us when you are coming back.”
”May be next week, or the week after, or a month from this; but thank you all the same,” answered Bob, laughing, as he stepped into the punt which came for him. As soon as he was on board, the _Saucy Sue_ made sail for the French sh.o.r.e, and, under a crowd of canvas, was soon out of sight.
It was soon known at each preventive station along the coast that Bob Hanson was away in the _Saucy Sue_, and might ere long be expected back with a cargo of contraband. A sharp look-out was accordingly kept for him. Often and often before this, however, he had been expected, but the goods had been run, notwithstanding, and the _Saucy Sue_ having appeared in the offing, had come into the harbour without an article of contraband on board, Bob and his crew looking innocent as lambs.
Tuesday came. Susan knew that on that night the attempt to run the cargo was to be made. There was no moon. The sun set red and lowering over Durlstone Point, and dark clouds were seen chasing each other rapidly across the sky, rising from a dark bank which rested on the western horizon, while white-crested seas began to rise up out of the sombre green ocean, every instant increasing in number. The wind whistled mournfully among the bushes and the few stunted trees, with tops bending inland, which fringed the cliffs, and the murmur of the waves on the beach below changed ere long into a ceaseless roar.
Susan sat in her cottage, watching the last rays of the setting sun as her foot rocked her baby's cradle. She knew well the path to Durlstone Point along the cliffs. No longer able to restrain her anxiety (why more excited than usual on that evening, she could not have told), she left her child in charge of her young sister, who had come in to see her, and hurried out. The clouds came up thicker and thicker from the south-west, and the darkness rapidly increased. She had good reason to dread falling over the cliff. Several times she contemplated turning back; but the thought of her husband's danger urged her on. ”If I could find the spotsman, Ned Dore, I would beseech him to warn the cutter off,” she said to herself; ”it can never be done on a night like this.”
She went on till she came to a dip, or gulley, when a break in the cliff occurred. A steep path led down the centre to the beach. She heard the sound of wheels, with the stamp of horses' feet, as if the animals had started forward impatiently and been checked, and there was also the murmur of several voices. Suddenly a light flashed close to her.
”Oh, Ned Dore, is that you?” she exclaimed. ”Don't let them land to-night; there'll be harm come of it.”
”No fear, Mrs Hanson,” said Dore, recognising her voice. ”All's right--the cutter has made her signal, and I have answered it. Couldn't have a better time. The revenue men are all on the wrong scent, and we'll have every cask a dozen miles from this before they are back.
Just you go home, good woman, and your husband will be there before long.”
Susan, however, had no intention of leaving the spot. Again she entreated Dore, almost with tears, to warn off the cutter, alleging that there was already too much surf on the beach to allow the boats to land with safety. Dore almost angrily again refused, declaring that the cutter had already begun to unload, and that the boats would soon be in.
Seeing that her entreaties were useless, she sat herself down on a rock jutting out of the cliff, and tried to peer into the darkness. She waited for some time, when footsteps were heard, and one of the men posted to watch, came running in with the information that a party of the revenue were approaching. Dore, coming up to her, pulled her by force below the rock on which she had been sitting. The other men concealed themselves under the bushes--among other rocks and in holes in the cliff--the lights were extinguished, and the carts were heard moving rapidly away. Not a word was spoken--the men held in their breath as the revenue officers approached. Poor Susan almost fainted with dread-- not for herself, but for her husband. Where was he all the time? She knew too well the smugglers' mode of proceeding not to have good cause for fear.
”It was off here, sir, I saw the light flash,” Susan heard one of the men say. ”There is a road a little further up, and the cart wheels we heard must have pa.s.sed along it.”
”It is a likely spot, and must be watched.”
Susan recognised the voice of the last speaker as that of Mr Belland, the new lieutenant of the Coast Guard, reputed to be an active officer.
”Do you, Simpson and Jones, station yourselves on the top of the cliff, and fire your pistols if you see anything suspicious,” he said. ”Wait an hour, and then move back to your beats--there will be sea enough on by that time to save us further trouble.”
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