“Oh, I hope not, father,” I said eagerly.
“So do I, my boy; but I have very little faith in him, and I always dwell in expectation that some day or other, or some night or another, he will land with a strong party, and come up here to work all the mischief he can—perhaps carry off all our silver.”
“But, father,” I exclaimed, “that would be acting like a pirate.”
“Well, Sep, there is not much difference between a pirate and a smuggler. They are both outlaws, and not very particular about what they do.”
“Oh, but I hope we shall have no trouble of that sort, for Bigley’s sake.”
“So do I, Sep, but I feel this, that we are not safe, for we have made a dangerous enemy—one who can descend upon us at any time, and then get away by sea. What can we do if he makes such an attack?”
“Fight,” I said bluntly. “We have plenty of arms, and the men will do just what they are bid.”
“Yes,” said my father; “but I should be deeply grieved for there to be any bloodshed. I’ve known what it is in my early days, Sep, and in spite of all that has been said about honour and glory there is always an unpleasant feeling afterwards, when in cool blood you think about having destroyed your fellow-creatures’ lives.”
“Yes, father,” I said; “there must be, and we don’t want to do it; but if anyone comes breaking into the mine premises to steal, they must take the consequences.”
“Yes, Sep,” said my father sternly, “they must, for I have enough of the old fighting-man left in me to make me say that I should not give up quietly if I was put to the proof.”