That night Bigley and I went part of the way home with Bob, and then I walked part of the way home with Bigley in the calm and solitude of the summer darkness.
We walked along the cliff path, and were about half-way to the Gap when Big caught me by the arm and pointed down below, about a quarter of a mile from the cliff, where, stealing along in the gloom, I caught sight of the sails of a small vessel, and directly after of those of another gliding on close at hand. They were so indistinct at first that I could see but little. Then I could make out that they were both luggers by their rig, and that one of them had three masts and the other only two.
Chapter Thirty Seven.
Suspicions of Danger.
Like all bits of excitement the coming of the cutter was followed by a time of calm. Bigley seemed to have settled down to a regular life at the cottage, spending part of his days looking out to sea, and the other part up at the mine, where my father seemed now to give him always a very warm welcome.
We saw the revenue cutter off the Gap now and then, and we had reason to believe that the crew had landed and thoroughly examined the caves again, but we saw nothing of them; it was only from knowing that one evening the little vessel lay off the shore about a mile to the west of the Gap, and Bigley went along the shore at next low tide, and said afterwards that he thought he could make out footprints, but the tide had washed over everything so much that he was not sure.
He heard no news of his father as week after week rolled by, till all at once came a letter from Dunquerque, inclosing some money, and telling him that he had got away safely, and was quite well.
“He said,” Bigley told me in confidence, for he did not show me the letter; “he said that if your father behaved badly to me I was to go away at once with Mother Bonnet and take lodgings at Ripplemouth, just as he told me; but I don’t think I shall have to do that.”