“We never said that we were not smugglers,” replied Pickersgill; “but what is that to you? You are not a king’s ship, or employed by the revenue.”
“No; but we carry a pendant, and it is our duty to protect the laws.”
“And who are you?” said Pickersgill.
“I am Lord B—.”
“Then, my lord, allow me to say that you would do much better to attend to the framing of laws, and leave people of less consequence, like those astern of me, to execute them. ‘Mind your own business,’ is an old adage. We shall not hurt you, my lord, as you have only employed words, but we shall put it out of your power to hurt us. Come aft, my lads. Now, my lord, resistance is useless; we are double your numbers, and you have caught a Tartar.”
Lord B— and Mr Stewart perceived that they were in an awkward predicament.
“You may do what you please,” observed Mr Stewart, “but the revenue boats are coming up, recollect.”
“Look you, sir, do you see the revenue-cutter?” said Pickersgill.
Stewart looked in that direction and saw that she was hidden in the fog.
“In five minutes, sir, the boats will be out of sight also, and so will your vessel; we have nothing to fear from them.”