Part 61 (1/2)
”Yes; go on.”
”And that I was to stay with Mother Bonnet as long as you would let me, and when you turned us out, we were to take lodgings in Ripplemouth.”
”When I turned you out!” said my father angrily. ”Pis.h.!.+ Ah, well, stop till I turn you out then. There, I must go now, Sep; this will be a broken day for you. Bring your two friends over to the Bay, and we'll have tea and dinner all together.”
He turned off and left us, but I saw him give Bigley a very friendly nod and smile as he went away, and I felt sure that he rather admired what Bigley had done, though he kept up the idea of being very fierce and indignant with him for striking an officer of the royal navy.
As soon as we were well alone Bob Chowne threw himself on the ground and began to laugh and wipe his eyes.
”Oh, what a game!” he cried, as he rolled about. ”Didn't old Big run?”
”Enough to make anybody run when a bullet was after him,” I said.
”But how he did go up the rocks. Just like a big rabbit. I say, Big, you were frightened.”
”Yes, that I was,” said Bigley frankly; ”I don't know when I felt so scared. Made sure he would hit me, and then that the sailors would cut me down with their swords.”
This disappointed Bob, who had fully expected to hear a denial of the charge of fear, and he sat up and stared at the speaker, who turned to me then.
”Why, Sep,” he said, ”they must have worked hard in the night to get all those things away. Do you know, I'm sure that must have been the _Hirondelle_. I wonder how they managed to get off.”
”I know,” I said suddenly.
”Yah! Not you,” cried Bob. ”Hark at old c.o.c.k Solomon, who knows everything.”
”I don't care what you say,” I replied. ”I'm sure this is how they've got away.”
”Well, let's hear,” said Bob, and Bigley's eyes flashed with eagerness.
”Why, they haven't got away at all,” I said. ”They wouldn't dare to go down Channel after getting the cargo out of the cave, for fear of meeting the cutter just at daybreak.”
”And you think they've gone up towards Bristol?” cried Bigley excitedly.
”Yes,” I said; ”and they are lying up somewhere over yonder on the Welsh coast till to-night, when they'll be off again.”
”That's it,” said Bigley. ”I'm sure that's it.”
”I don't believe it,” said Bob sharply. ”And if it is true, I'm ashamed of you both. Here's Sep Duncan taking part with the smugglers, and old Big hitting the officers in the eye, and bragging about his father. I shall look out for some fresh mates, that's what I shall do.”
”Come and have some tea and dinner first, Bob,” I said mockingly.
”Yes, I'll have some food first, for I'm getting hungry. My, what a game, though! How old Big did run when the lieutenant was going to give him a pill! Ha, ha, ha!”
We strolled about the sh.o.r.e, and then went into the cottage for a bit, and that afforded Bob another opportunity for a few sneers about this being Bigley's home now, addressing him as the master of the house, bantering him about being stingy with his cider, and finally jumping up as he saw my father coming down from the mine, and then we all went over to the Bay to our evening meal.
That night Bigley and I went part of the way home with Bob, and then I walked part of the way home with Bigley in the calm and solitude of the summer darkness.
We walked along the cliff path, and were about half-way to the Gap when Big caught me by the arm and pointed down below, about a quarter of a mile from the cliff, where, stealing along in the gloom, I caught sight of the sails of a small vessel, and directly after of those of another gliding on close at hand. They were so indistinct at first that I could see but little. Then I could make out that they were both luggers by their rig, and that one of them had three masts and the other only two.