“They would likely enough turn on and begin fiercely at me,” he thought. “I can do no good;” and he lay still, wanting to get away, but afraid to stir lest he should be heard.
“They’ll go soon,” he thought; and he waited patiently, watching the lights gradually getting fainter and fainter as their distance from the shore increased.
But the poor women seemed to have seated themselves just beyond reach of the lapping waves, which kept on breaking regularly in the little cove, and they, too, were watching the boat-lights till the last gleam had died away and all was darkness as far as they could see.
Then a low sobbing was heard, half drowned at times by many voices raised in angry protest, and mingled with threats.
This went on and on, rising, falling, and quite dying out at times, but only to break out again, having a strange effect upon Aleck, who would have given anything to get away unnoticed; but every now and then the silence was so perfect that he felt confident of being heard if he made the slightest movement, and consequently lay still.
“They’d be sure to look upon me as an intruder,” he muttered, “and be ready to resent my being here.”
At last though the silence was broken by the trampling of feet amongst the loose shingle, accompanied by a low murmured conversation, which was continued up the gap and died out finally high up towards the cottages, leaving the way for the listener clear.
Aleck took advantage of this, and, sad at heart, he was going slowly back towards the Den, when suddenly became aware of steps coming from the direction of the smugglers’ scattered patch of cottages.
Whoever it was had approached so near and had come upon him so suddenly that he obeyed his first impulse, which was to say, sharply:
“Who’s that?”