“Look, father,” I said, as we went on down, seeing each moment more and more of the opening to the sea; “there’s a boat coming ashore.”
“Man-o’-war’s,” cried my father excitedly. “Look at the way the oars dip, Sep. Hah, it’s a treat to see the lads handle them again. There she is!” he cried. “Look! Why, it’s the revenue cutter.”
She had just rounded a bend as he spoke, and there, sure enough, was a large cutter with snow-white sails lying off the point that formed the east side of the Gap, head to wind, and waiting evidently for the return of the boat that had come ashore.
My father walked rapidly on, and we reached the shore nearly at the same time as the boat, from which sprang an officer, and to our surprise Jonas Uggleston stepped out more slowly.
Just then Bigley appeared, I never knew where from; but I think he must have been watching from among the rocks, and in a quick husky voice he said to my father:
“Captain Duncan, please, pray don’t say that you saw that cargo landed last night.”
“My poor lad!” said my father kindly. “But tell me; have the cutter’s men been aboard the lugger?”
“Yes, sir, searching her, I think; and you see they chased her in, and now they’re bringing father ashore a prisoner.”
He could say no more, for the cutter’s officer came up.
“You are Captain Duncan, I think?” he said.