“What are you going to do?” said the lieutenant sharply.
“Make her fast astarn.”
“Well, you need not have got into her, you could have led her round.”
“This here’s my way,” said the man; and as the order was given to slip the anchor, with a small buoy left to mark its place, the informer secured his boat to one of the ringbolts astern, and then drew close in; and mounted over the bulwark to stand beside the man at the helm.
“What do you propose doing?” said the lieutenant.
“Tellin’ o’ you what I wants done, and then you tells your lads.”
The lieutenant nodded, and in obedience to the suggestion of the man the stay-sail was hoisted; then up went the mainsail and jib, and the little cutter careened over to the soft land breeze as soon as she got a little way out from under the cliffs, which soon became invisible.
“Why, you aren’t dowsed your lanthorns,” whispered the man. “I’d have them down, and next time you have time just have down all your canvas, and get it tanned brown. Going about with lanthorns and white canvas is showing everybody where you are.”
After a time, as they glided on, catching a glimpse of a twinkling light or two on the shore, the man grew a little more communicative, and began to whisper bits of information and advice to the lieutenant.
“Tells me,” he said, “that she’s choke full o’ Hollands gin and lace.”