“Dunno, Master Aleck,” said the sailor, passing his hand, as if lovingly, over the well-smoothed sweet-smelling wood he was putting into the boat. “Wants some beer?”
“Oh, of course,” said Aleck; “but he said he could have mended the boat up in half the time.”
“Ah, he would,” said Tom, drily. “Done it in two days, maybe, and first time she was out in bad weather the sea would undo all his work in quarter the time. Won’t do, Master Aleck; boat-building’s boat-building, and it’s all the same as ship-building—it means men’s lives, and them who scamps work like this ought to be flogged. Our old chips aboard the Hajax, as I worked with as mate, used to say precious ugly things about bad boat-building, and he’d say what he’d do to him as risked men’s lives by bad work. He taught me, Master Aleck, and I feel like him. I’d rather be paid a score o’ shillings for doing a fortnight’s good work than have it for doing a week’s; and I’m going to drive in as many o’ these here best copper nails as I thinks’ll be good for the boat, and you’re going to hold my big hammer agen their heads while I clinch ’em. Then I shall feel as the boat’s as safe as hands can make it. And, as I said afore, if I was Eben Megg, I’d drop the smuggling and go inland for a bit. That there sloop’ll come into harbour some night when she arn’t expected; you see if she don’t! They was fine young men the skipper got the other night, and I say he’ll try for another haul.”
“And I say,” cried Aleck, “that if he does send his men he’ll be disappointed, for Eben and the other smugglers will be too foxy to let themselves be surrounded as the men were at Rockabie the other night.”
“Well, Master Aleck, so much the better for them.”
Then Tom began hammering and clinching the soft copper nails as if he loved his work, and as soon as the sun went down started off to trudge across the moor to Rockabie, taking his time over the task and looking as cheerful at the end as he did at the beginning of the long day.
Aleck had worked pretty hard, too, in the hot sun, and he was so drowsy that night that he was glad enough to see his uncle, wearied out with the writing, which seemed as if it would never come to an end, begin to nod and doze, and suddenly rise up and say:
“Let’s go to bed!”
Aleck hardly knew how he got undressed, but he did afterwards recall going to the fully-open window and looking out at the dull night, as he drank in the soft cool air, which seemed so welcome after a still, sultry day.
Then he was asleep, dreaming of nothing, till about midnight, when his brain became active and he fancied that he was back in the darkness by the unlaunched boat at Rockabie, growing wildly excited as he listened to the shouting and scuffling up one of the narrow lanes, followed by firing and what seemed to be either an order or a cry for help.