Part 3 (1/2)

Half-an-hour before midnight was the time chosen for the sailing of the sloop _Termagant_, in order that she might get away quietly and escape the press-gang. Ruby and his uncle had taken the precaution to go down to the harbour just a few minutes before sailing, and they kept as closely as possible to the darkest and least-frequented streets while pa.s.sing through the town.

Captain Ogilvy returned by much the same route to his sister's cottage, but did not attempt to conceal his movements. On the contrary, knowing that the sloop must have got clear of the harbour by that time, he went along the streets whistling cheerfully. He had been a noted, not to say noisy, whistler when a boy, and the habit had not forsaken him in his old age. On turning sharp round a corner, he ran against two men, one of whom swore at him, but the other cried--

”Hallo! messmate, yer musical the night. Hey, Captain Ogilvy, surely I seed you an' Ruby slinkin' down the dark side o' the market-gate half an 'oor ago?”

”Mayhap ye did, an' mayhap ye didn't,” retorted the captain, as he walked on; ”but as it's none o' your business to know, I'll not tell ye.”

”Ay, ay? O but ye're a cross auld chap. Pleasant dreams t'ye.”

This kindly remark, which was expressed by our friend Davy Spink, was lost on the captain, in consequence of his having resumed his musical recreation with redoubled energy, as he went rolling back to the cottage to console Mrs Brand, and to afford ”advice and comfort gratis” to Minnie Gray.

CHAPTER FOUR.

THE BURGLARY.

On the night in question, Big Sw.a.n.kie and a likeminded companion, who went among his comrades by the name of the Badger, had planned to commit a burglary in the town, and it chanced that the former was about that business when Captain Ogilvy unexpectedly ran against him and Davy Spink.

Spink, although a smuggler, and by no means a particularly respectable man, had not yet sunk so low in the scale of life as to be willing to commit burglary. Sw.a.n.kie and the Badger suspected this, and, although they required his a.s.sistance much, they were afraid to ask him to join, lest he should not only refuse, but turn against them. In order to get over the difficulty, Sw.a.n.kie had arranged to suggest to him the robbery of a store containing gin, which belonged to a smuggler, and, if he agreed to that, to proceed further and suggest the more important matter in hand. But he found Spink proof against the first attack.

”I tell 'ee, I'll hae naething to do wi't,” said he, when the proposal was made.

”But,” urged Sw.a.n.kie, ”he's a smuggler, and a cross-grained hound besides. It's no' like robbin' an honest man.”

”An' what are _we_ but smugglers?” retorted Spink; ”an' as to bein'

cross-grained, you've naethin' to boast o' in that way. Na, na, Sw.a.n.kie, ye may do't yersel, I'll hae nae hand in't. I'll no objec' to tak a bit keg o' Auchmithie water [smuggled spirits] noo and then, or to pick up what comes to me by the wund and sea, but I'll steal frae nae man.”

”Ay, man, but ye've turned awfu' honest all of a suddent,” said the other with a sneer. ”I wonder the thretty sovereigns I gied ye the other day, when we tossed for them and the case o' kickshaws, havena'

brunt yer pooches.”

Davy Spink looked a little confused.

”Aweel,” said he, ”it's o' nae use greetin' ower spilt milk, the thing's done and past noo, and I canna help it. Sae guidnight to 'ee.”

Sw.a.n.kie, seeing that it was useless to attempt to gain over his comrade, and knowing that the Badger was waiting impatiently for him near the appointed house, hurried away without another word, and Davy Spink strolled towards his home, which was an extremely dirty little hut, near the harbour.

At the time of which we write, the town of Arbroath was neither so well lighted nor so well guarded as it now is. The two burglars found nothing to interfere with their deeds of darkness, except a few bolts and bars, which did not stand long before their expert hands.

Nevertheless, they met with a check from an unexpected quarter.

The house they had resolved to break into was inhabited by a widow lady, who was said to be wealthy, and who was known to possess a considerable quant.i.ty of plate and jewels. She lived alone, having only one old servant and a little girl to attend upon her. The house stood on a piece of ground not far from the ruins of the stately abbey which originated and gave celebrity to the ancient town of Aberbrothoc. Mrs Stewart's house was full of Eastern curiosities, some of them of great value, which had been sent to her by her son, then a major in the East India Company's service.

Now, it chanced that Major Stewart had arrived from India that very day, on leave of absence, all unknown to the burglars, who, had they been aware of the fact, would undoubtedly have postponed their visit to a more convenient season.

As it was, supposing they had to deal only with the old lady and her two servants, they began their work between twelve and one that night, with considerable confidence, and in great hopes of a rich booty.

A small garden surrounded the old house. It was guarded by a wall about eight feet high, the top of which bristled with bottle-gla.s.s. The old lady and her domestics regarded this terrible-looking defence with much satisfaction, believing in their innocence that no human creature could succeed in getting over it. Boys, however, were their only dread, and fruit their only care, when they looked complacently at the bottle-gla.s.s on the wall, and, so far, they were right in their feeling of security, for boys found the labour, risk, and danger to be greater than the worth of the apples and pears.

But it was otherwise with men. Sw.a.n.kie and the Badger threw a piece of thick matting on the wall; the former bent down, the latter stepped upon his back, and thence upon the mat; then he hauled his comrade up, and both leaped into the garden.

Advancing stealthily to the door, they tried it and found it locked.