“Heaven bless him!” muttered Sir Henry to himself; “but it was a struggle between friendship and duty, I could see.”
Meanwhile the lugger was ransacked from end to end, three more men being called from the cutter for the purpose. Tubs were turned over, spare sails and nets dragged about, planks lifted, bunks and lockers searched, but nothing contraband was found, and all the while the skipper of the lugger and his crew stood staring stupidly at the efforts of the king’s men.
“Labour in vain, Leigh,” said the lieutenant at last. “Into the boat there. Confound that scoundrel! I wish he was overboard.”
The lieutenant did not say what for, but as soon as the men were in the boat he turned to the skipper:
“Look ye here, my fine fellow, you’ve had a narrow escape.”
“Yes,” said the man stolidly, “I thought you’d have hit us.”
The lieutenant did not condescend to reply, but climbed over the side into the cutter’s boat, and motioned to Leigh to follow, which he did, not daring to glance at the passengers.
“Are you quite done, officer?” growled the skipper.
No answer was given, and as the boat reached the side of the cutter the sails of the lugger were being hoisted, and she began to move quickly through the water at once.
“Lay her head to the eastward,” said the lieutenant sourly; “and look here, Leigh, don’t you rouse me up again for one of your mare’s nests, or it will be the—”