"A part of it."
"That's where the Rahnkes live; I shouldn't like to be in their skins to-day."
"Why, what is going on there?" asked Gotthold.
"Another of the good chances," continued Jochen, involuntarily lowering his voice, although, as far as the eye could reach, no living creature was to be seen except the sea-gulls hovering over the waves. "They pretend to be fishermen, and when we were under Swedish rule also had the right to sell liquor, and say they have it still. But that is probably only a rumor in order to have a reason why every moment boats run in full of people, who, like the Rahnkes, call themselves fishermen, and have just as little right to the name. There must often be a half-dozen there at once, the custom-house officers say, and when they come--either by land or water--all are away, just run out to sea. They have kept watch here on the downs, and cruised in the offing for days together; but then no boat has ever arrived except some innocent fishing-smack, and the Rahnkes have stood and laughed when the officers were disappointed again. But they'll get paid for it to-night."
"What, this evening?"
"I really ought not to tell, but it's different with you, and besides they must certainly be there already. Do you see the three sails standing towards the north? Those are Uselin fishing-boats, and this is the right time and the right course; but they have no fishermen in them, but custom-house officers in peajackets and southwesters, and when they are near enough they will heave to and stop close by Wiessow Point, and the moment they heave to, a dozen custom-house officers and gendarmes will come marching, marching up from the land-side. I have it all from Herr Inspector from Sundin, who has already spent two days in Wiessow, and I'm an old acquaintance of his, because I've often driven him to different places; so he told me about it. Look! Herr Gotthold, look! there it begins."
Jochen, with an eagerness most unusual to him, pointed towards the three vessels, which, in fact, after holding their course in line directly towards the north, suddenly tacked and stood towards the land. At the same moment, two boats that must hitherto have lain concealed behind Wiessow Point appeared, and it was soon evident that they wished to escape between the coast and the three vessels, while the foremost was trying to cut them off. But it was already doubtful whether it would succeed, as it had a longer distance to run before reaching the point where the two courses crossed, and the smugglers sailed quite as fast, besides laying closer to the wind. In fact, at the end of ten minutes, a small gray cloud that rose from the pursuing boat, followed at shorter and shorter intervals by other little gray clouds, showed that the custom-house officers were beginning to despair of the success of the chase, and soon the cessation of the firing proved it had failed. The smugglers already looked like a mere speck on the horizon, the pursuing boat had tacked, and was standing back towards Wiessow Point, where the two others had arrived long before, "probably, with the men who now came hurrying up from the land-side, to find the nest empty once more," Gotthold said to himself.
"The damned rascals!" cried Jochen Prebrow.
They had been standing at the top of one of the higher downs, eagerly watching the exciting spectacle, every separate phase of which was as distinct to the two sons of the coast as if they had been in the midst of the action. In this the excellent spy-glass had done them essential service; it had been passed from hand to hand, and Gotthold had just taken it. He thought, if Jochen's information was correct, they must at least see some of the custom-house officers on the farthest downs, and slowly turning from hillock to hillock was searching the ground before him, already growing dim in the mists of evening, when he heard a low exclamation. At the same moment, however, he dropped the spy-glass, and pulled Jochen away from the crest of the down, so that their heads were concealed by the long waving grass.
"What is it?"