“Another smuggler,” whispered Vince; and then turned to look up at the mast-head of their own vessel, but their signal had been lowered.
“Depend upon it,” whispered Mike, “that boat will come up close, like the other did, and they’ll make fast together and begin to shift cargo.”
“Think so?” said Vince thoughtfully, as it began to dawn upon his mind that possibly Captain Jacques with his fast lugger ran across Channel to various smuggling ports, and brought cargoes over to deposit in the cavern ready for the contraband goods to be fetched by other vessels and landed here and there upon the English coast. He did not know then that he had made a very shrewd guess, and hit the truth of how the captain had for years gone on enriching himself and others by his ingenious way of avoiding the revenue cutters, whose commanders had always looked upon the Crag as a dangerous place, that every one would avoid, but who would have given chase directly had they seen Jacques’ long low swift vessel approaching any part of the English coast to land a cargo.
Vince did not ripen his thoughts then—that happened afterwards, for he was interrupted by a hand laid upon his shoulder, Mike feeling another upon his.
“You sink you vill keep ze middle vatch?” said the captain: “ma foi, no! Go down and sleep, and grow to big man.”
He gave them a gentle push in the direction of the hatch.
“Bon soir,” he said mockingly, and the boys went down.
“You’ll hear the bolts shot directly,” said Vince grimly, as he seated himself on the edge of the bunk.
Click—clack! came instantaneously, and then they heard an ascending step.
“Don’t mean us to see much of what is going on,” said Mike.