For a few moments he felt paralysed, and stood there holding his jacket in his hand unable to move, as he asked himself whether that man had been there when he spoke and took the lights.
As he stood there wondering, he heard a voice call “Jem!” in a low tone; and this roused Hilary, who dropped down and crept away, glancing to seaward as he did so, where the cutter’s lights—if it was she—once more brightly burned.
He did not dare to go far, but lay flat upon the turf, listening as someone came up; and then there was a dull noise as of a man kicking another.
“Get up, Jem! Do you hear! Why, what a fellow you are to sleep!”
“Hullo! Oh, all right,” said another voice; and now Hilary could see two men standing, their figures plainly shown against the lantern’s light. “Oh, yes; it’s all very well to say ‘Hullo!’ and ‘All right!’” grumbled the first voice; “I never see such a fellow to sleep.”
“Have you done?” said the sleepy one yawning.
“Done? No; nor half done; she’s got a heavy cargo. If we get done in three hours we shall have worked well. Put out them candles, and come and haul.”
The lights were extinguished; and Hilary, wondering at his escape, felt his heart bound with joy, for by that time the crews of a couple of boats must have been mustered on the Kestrel’s deck, and in another five minutes they would be pulling, with muffled oars, towards the shore.
“Ah! if I were only in command of one!” cried Hilary to himself; “but as I am not, can I do anything more to help our fellows besides bringing them ashore?”
It was a question that puzzled him to answer, and he lay there on the turf wondering what it would be best to do, ending by making up his mind to creep down as cautiously as he could in the direction taken by the two men.