Then followed a long and patient watch, in the most utter silence; for, in the stillness of such a calm night a voice travels far, and the lieutenant knew that a strange sound would be sufficient to alarm those for whom he was waiting, and send the boat away again to sea. He might overtake her, but would more probably lose her in the darkness, and see her at daybreak perhaps well within reach of a port where he dare not follow.
It was darker now, for clouds had come like a veil over the bright stars, but the night was singularly clear and transparent, as soon after eight bells the informer crept silently up to where the lieutenant was trying to make out the approach of the expected vessel.
The little officer started as the man touched his elbow, so silently had he approached, and on looking down, he dimly made out that the man had divested himself of his heavy boots.
“Do be quiet, master,” whispered the great fellow. “Can’t ’ford to lose fifty pounds for fear o’ getting one’s feet cold. See anything?”
“No,” whispered the lieutenant, after sweeping his glass round.
“Tide serves, and she can’t be long now. But two o’ your chaps keep whispering for’ard, and it comes back off the cliff. No, no—don’t shout at ’em. We daren’t have a sound.”
“No,” replied the lieutenant; and he went softly forward toward where a group of men were leaning over the bulwarks, peering into the darkness and listening to the tide as it gurgled in and out of the rocks, little more than a hundred yards away.
“Strict silence, my lads, and the moment you get the word, over into your boats and lay ready. Are those rowlocks muffled?”
“Ay, ay, sir!” said the boatswain, who was to be in command of one of the boats.
“No bloodshed, my lads. Knock any man down who resists. Five minutes after you leave the side here ought to make the smuggler ours. Hush! Keep your cheering till you’ve taken the boat.”