“How dare you speak like that, sir, on the deck of his majesty’s vessel? How dare you—you mutinous dog, you? Go forward, sir, and you, too, Tom Tully, and the cutter’s crew, under the command of Mr Leigh, and think yourself lucky if you are not put under punishment.”
“Very sorry, sir. Humbly beg pardon, sir,” stammered the gunner.
“Silence, sir! Forward! Serve out cutlasses and pistols to the men, and I’ll talk to you afterwards.”
Billy Waters chuckled to himself at the success of his scheme, and after a word or two of command, Hilary’s little party, instead of jumping into the cutter and rowing ashore, dropped down over the side on to the sands, and went off along the coast to the west.
“What’s going to be done first, sir?” said the gunner.
“Well, Waters, I’ve just been thinking that we ought first to try and find some traces of the boats.”
“Yes, sir; but how? They’re fur enough away by now.”
“Of course; but if we look along the shore here about the level that the tide was last night I daresay we shall find some traces of them in the sands, and that may give us a hint where to search inland, for I’ll be bound to say they were landing cargo somewhere.”
“I’ll be bound to say you’re right, sir,” said Waters, slapping his leg. “Spread out, my lads, and report the first mark of a boat’s keel.”
They tramped on quite five miles over the sand and shingle, and amidst the loose rocks, without seeing anything to take their attention, when suddenly one of the men some fifty yards ahead gave a hail.