“Um!” grunted the smuggler. “I don’t know about ‘poor fellow.’ He has been better off, I daresay, than I was while they kept me a prisoner. Better fed and all. Nothing the matter, only he couldn’t get out.”
“But why did you make a prisoner of him?”
“I didn’t,” said the smuggler, contemptuously; “it was the silly women.”
“What for?”
“They got the silly idea in their heads that they could make the press-gang officer exchange—give the pressed men back—if they held on to the lad.”
“But you’ll set him free at once?” said Aleck, quickly.
“I don’t know, my lad,” was the reply. “It’s rather a mess, I’m afraid, taking a King’s officer like that; and it seems to me it will be a worse one to let him go.”
“Oh, but you must let him go. The punishment will be very serious for keeping him.”
“So it will for breaking loose and swimming ashore after being pressed for a sailor.”
“Yes,” cried Aleck; “but—”