As the thought occurred to him he began to crawl back cautiously but quickly till he was close up to where the lanterns were hidden.
“If there is anyone there,” he argued, “I can dash off into the darkness and escape.”
But he felt sure that there was no one. Still he tested the question by saying suddenly in a gruff voice:
“Now, my lads, you’re wanted below.”
It was a bold stroke, but it satisfied him that all was right, and that all hands were away.
Now, then, was his time. He could not help the Kestrel’s men, they must do the work; but if they came ashore they would know why it was, and the possibilities were that they would surprise the lugger—perhaps be in time to capture half her cargo.
Hilary did not hesitate now, but creeping down into the hollow, he extinguished the candle in one lantern and took off his jacket and wrapped it round the other, completely hiding its light. Then, taking the first in his hand, he crept up once more to the higher part of the cliff.
Here he ould see the lights of the Kestrel plain enough, but even when stooping down he could not help seeing the black patch upon the shore.
That would not do, so he crept back a few yards, finding the cliff rise in a sharp slope, going to the top of which he found that he could see the light in what was apparently a cottage.
Descending again, he cautiously chose a spot where he could easily see the cutter’s lights but not the shore below the cliff, and then he paused and listened.