“Yes, I do, sir. I know you always liked me,” cried the midshipman, between the mouthfuls he was taking. “But never mind the being prisoner, sir. I know all the scoundrels’ secrets now, and you can capture them, and make some good hauls. You must send a strong party ashore as soon as it’s day.”
“But—but—”
Archy answered those buts to such an extent that Gurr’s report was needless, and the master was terribly disappointed.
By that time the cutter was slowly gliding away seaward, with every eye on the watch, for, as the lieutenant explained, after telling his recovered officer how he had searched in all directions, he had that night seen lights shown far up on one of the cliffs—lights which might mean a warning to some vessel to keep off, or just as likely might have the other intention, and be an invite to some lugger to land her cargo.
In any case the lieutenant meant to be on the alert, and hence the sailing of the cutter.
The lieutenant had hesitated a little at first after hearing his midshipman’s report, but he now decided how to act.
“No,” he said; “not to-night, my lad. I’m inclined to think the signal was a warning to keep off. They may hide the cargo they leave ashore, and if we don’t capture it, so much the worse, but our work is to crush up the gang more than to capture a few barrels and bales. We’ll look out to-night, and, as soon as it is daylight, you shall make sure of the bearings of your prison, then we’ll land a strong boat’s crew, and go along the top of the cliff to the place, and put an end to that game. You shall make a good meal, and then have a sleep, ready for to-morrow’s work. Hah!” cried the little lieutenant; “that ought to mean a good day’s business, Mr Raystoke, and promotion to better jobs than this.”
“I hope so, sir,” said Archy, with his mouth full.
“No use to hope,” said the lieutenant dismally. “I’m like poor old Gurr; they don’t consider me fit for service in a crack ship; and when I make my report, and send in my despatches, and ask for an appointment, I shall be told I do my work too well on this important service, and that they cannot spare so valuable an officer from the station. Gammon, Mr Raystoke, gammon! It’s all because I’m so little and so fat.”
Archy was silent, for he knew it was the truth, and that such a quaint little fellow did not somehow quite command the men’s respect.