“Don’t seem to be no others, only that cocky-hoopy middy, who came ashore with the men. I should like to ketch him ashore some day.”
One of Archy’s legs gave a twitch at the first remark about him, and the twitch occurred in his right arm at the second.
“Don’t chatter. Not very sharp sort of officer, eh?”
“No, father. Sort of chap who’d go to sleep all night.”
Archy began wondering. He had thought the boy a dull, stupid-looking bumpkin, and he was finding out how observing he had been.
“Well, we’ll risk it, boy. Come along.”
Archy’s heart gave a bound.
Here was news! He had been growing dull and disheartened, thinking that his expedition was foolish and impossible, and here at once he had learned what he wanted. He knew that now all he had to do was to take advantage of every wall and tree, even to creep along the ground if necessary, and he would be able to follow the smugglers to the place where they had hidden the run cargo, watch them bring it out, and then track them to the fresh hiding-place.
He would thus learn everything, and be able at daybreak to make his way to the cliff, signal for a boat, and a grand capture would be made.
His heart beat high as he thought of the lieutenant’s delight, and of the joy there would be amongst the men, for this would mean prize-money, and perhaps the means of deluding the vessel that had brought the cargo into a trap, so that it could be captured, and more prize-money as well as honour be the result.