"When you get to St. Pierre, Ben, you can talk a bit about your own smuggling propensities. But there, I leave that part of your programme to you. No doubt it will be dictated by what you find happening on the spot."
The rest of that day and the early night was given up to considering ways and means. Both Ben and Dare entered into the adventure in optimistic spirit. The captain, while not so sanguine of their success, was inclined to be enthusiastic about the project. Martha was the only one to disapprove of it. But Captain Stanley won her over with a few phrases, repeatedly assuring her that there was no danger and that the outing could be looked upon in the nature of a holiday.
At three o'clock the next morning, Dare and Ben slipped unnoticed out of the house, the captain's guarded "Good luck!" sounding in their ears.
They took to the Shagtown road with a will, striking into a walk that would bring them to the town in an hour or so. They reached it without having met a single person, and made at once for the quay. They had in a knapsack a plentiful supply of food, and on reaching the quay they chose a snug corner and prepared to eat while waiting for the town to awake.
There was a good deal of shipping in the harbour, from imposing three-masted ships to fishermen's boats such as they themselves intended to acquire. One of the latter lay by the quay near them, and, at the sight of smoke issuing from the small fo'c'sle, Ben suggested asking the owner for something hot to drink, as the morning was a raw and chilly one.
Dare agreeing, they gave the boat a hail, and in response a shutter was pulled back and a bearded, good-natured face appeared.
"Good mornin' to you," said Ben.
"And to you," said the man, eyeing them in a friendly manner.
"We was wonderin' if you was boilin' the kettle and if we could get a drap of tay. We've the money to pay."
"As to your money," said the man, "I want none of it. But you're welcome to take a drap of tay. Come aboard."