The lieutenant had a long look, and then, with a display of energy that was unusual with him, he exclaimed, “It is a signal for boats; there’s a landing going on.”
His words seemed to electrify everyone on board, and the men watched the lights on shore with intense eagerness, seeing prize-money in them, as they did in every boat sent from the cutter; while, to test the lights ashore as to whether they really formed a signal, or were only an accidental arrangement of a shepherd’s lanterns, the lieutenant had the two riding lamps suddenly lowered and covered.
Then there were a few moments of intense excitement, every eye being directed to the dim diagonally-placed stars on the cliff, both of which suddenly disappeared.
“Right,” said the lieutenant. “Up with our lights again. That’s either Mr Leigh signalling to be fetched off or else there’s going to be a cargo run. Man the two boats! Gunner, serve out arms! No pipe, boatswain. Quietly, every man, and muffle the oars!”
The men needed no pipe to call them to their places, for every man was in a state of intense excitement, and ready to execute a kind of war-dance on the deck, till the lieutenant, who had been to fetch his sword and pistols, returned on deck in a dubious state of mind.
“I don’t know,” he said. “Perhaps it is only a dodge to get us away. Somebody is tricking us; and while we are going one way they’ll run a cargo in another direction.”
The men dared not murmur, but they grumbled in silence.
“Give up your arms again, my men,” said the lieutenant, “and we’ll be watchful where we are. I’m tired of being tricked.”
The men were unwillingly giving up their weapons when, as Billy Waters put it, the wind veered round again.
“Serve out the arms, my man! Now then, be smart! Tumble into the boats!”