“Indeed, my lord, we had better return,” said Mr Stewart, who perceived that Pickersgill was right.
“I beg your pardon, you will not go on board your yacht so soon as you expect. Take the oars out of the boat; my lads, two or three of you, and throw in a couple of our paddles for them to reach the shore with. The rest of you knock down the first man who offers to resist. You are not aware, perhaps, my lord, that you have attempted piracy on the high seas?”
Stewart looked at Lord B—. It was true enough. The men of the yacht could offer no resistance; the oars were taken out of the boat and the men put in again.
“My lord,” said Pickersgill, “your boat is manned, do me the favour to step into it; and you, sir, do the same. I should be sorry to lay my hands upon a peer of the realm, or a king’s officer even on half pay.”
Remonstrance was vain; his lordship was led to the boat by two of the smugglers, and Stewart followed.
“I will leave your oars, my lord, at the Weymouth Custom-house, and I trust this will be a lesson to you in future to ‘mind your own business.’”
The boat was shoved off from the sloop by the smugglers, and was soon lost sight of in the fog, which had now covered the revenue boats as well as the yacht, at the same time it brought down a breeze from the eastward.
“Haul to the wind, Morrison,” said Pickersgill, “we will stand out to get rid of the boats; if they pull on they will take it for granted that we shall run into the bay, as will the revenue-cutter.”
Pickersgill and Corbett were in conversation abaft for a short time, when the former desired the course to be altered two points.
“Keep silence all of you, my lads, and let me know if you hear a gun or a bell from the yacht,” said Pickersgill.