“What!”
“And then, says you, ‘I want to see the skipper,’ you says, and as soon as he comes on deck, ‘Here I am, your honour,’ you says. ‘I warn’t going to let your men take me last night as if I were an enemy or a thief; but if the King wants sailors, here I am, and I’ll sarve him like a man.’”
“Well done, Tom!” cried Aleck.
“Think so, Master Aleck?” said the smuggler. “Yes, it sounds very nice, I suppose; but it won’t do. I’m the wrong sort. Can’t alter now.”
“You know your own affairs best, Eben,” said Aleck, quietly; “but I expect they’ll catch you, and then you’ll be obliged to serve.”
“I expecks so too, Master Aleck, but I mean to have a fight for it first. There we are. P’raps you’d better take the tiller now and run your boat into the gap. You know the way better than I do. You, too, Tom Bodger.”
The latter went forward, to stand boat-hook in hand, while, after passing the tiller to the lad, Eben laid hold of the rope and loosened it from the pin, ready to lower down the yard as soon as Aleck passed the word.
The next minute the boat had been run into the narrow jaws of the great chasm, the sail had been lowered, and after they had glided some distance along, helped by the boat-hook deftly wielded by Tom Bodger, the smuggler suddenly sprang out on to a shelf of rock at the side.
“What are you doing?” cried Aleck. “You can’t get up there in the dark.”
“Can’t I, sir? You wait, and I’ll hail you from the top before you get up to your mooring-rings.”