In order to pass the time at sea, Jacques frequently told stories in relation to his expeditions with the smugglers, and, among other things, described a cove where he had often aided to land cargoes of smuggled goods, and which was singularly adapted for concealment.
The captain listened attentively, but, at the conclusion of the story, merely remarked that it must be a curious place.
It was the middle of an afternoon, and the vessel well in with the land, when they made a sail, which Jacques, after looking at it a long time with the glass, declared to be Nelson's ship.
"I don't care who she is," said the captain; "she's dead to leeward. She can't catch us, and we can dodge her in the night."
The wind was blowing a wholesale breeze, and fair.
"Jacques," said the captain, laying his hand on the pilot's shoulder, "do you remember that singular cove you were telling about a fortnight ago?"
"The oven, sir?"
"That's it. Could you take a vessel in there in the night?"
"Yes, captain, night or day. I know it as well as I know the way to my berth."
"It is bright starlight; the wind is fair, and plenty of it. Put this vessel in there before daylight, and I'll make it the best night's work you ever did in your life."