Dare was an average youth, quick, intelligent, well set up. He had fair hair which lay close to his head and had a tendency to curl. His eyes were blue, the colour of those of most adventurers, and he wore for the most part a winning smile. That smile hovered about his lips as he sat in the smoke-room thinking of Saltern and the work ahead. Things promised well.
The blowing of the siren and the sudden realization that the ship was in smooth water roused him from his pleasant meditations. The ship was making harbour. A glimpse through the port-hole showed him a low point of land. He quickly donned his oilskin coat and went on deck. The ship was now in calm water sheltered by the land. He went forward and watched the town slowly come into view. While he was eyeing it someone nudged his elbow. He turned round to face Ben.
"Hello, Ben!" he shouted, pleased. "Well, we're getting there."
"And about time too," Ben grumbled. "I've seen a windjammer work the coast quicker'n this one."
"What place is this? St. Lawrence?"
"Aye. Weren't you sure? But I fergot; you ain't been this way before."
"That's so. I say, Ben, there was a chap in the smoke-room spouting a lot of stuff about the smugglers in Saltern Bay. He said they were a tough lot. Looks as if there's warm work ahead."
"Reckon the cap'n kin be tough, too," said Ben with an odd touch of pride.
"You ought to know," laughed Dare.
Ben had sailed with Captain Stanley for years and had left the sea at the same time, though it must be admitted it had been with reluctance. Only his loyalty to the captain enabled him to make the break, for the change from bos'n of a ship to major-domo of a town house did not appeal to his deep-water tastes. The monotony of town life was relieved now and then, however, by the captain's Revenue Service activities, for when there was work of a more than usually difficult character ahead, Ben's services were always impressed, to his great content.