“What a shame!” he said, again. “Nice sort of a gardener to have—lazy, a smuggler, and little better than a thief. I’ll just give him something to think about when I find him. Oh, there he is!”
For just then the boy looked up, to see the old gardener standing on the highest part of the sheltering cliff, his back to him, and shading his eyes as he looked out to sea.
“Ahoy! What are you doing there?” shouted Aleck.
The man started and looked down.
“Ships—men-o’-war—going behind the point,” shouted the gardener.
Men-of-war going into Rockabie harbour! That news was sufficient to upset all Aleck’s arrangements. He forgot all about the lesson he was going to give the gardener, and rushed indoors, to hurry upstairs and rap sharply at his uncle’s study, and, getting no answer he threw open the door to cross the room and seize the glass from where it hung by its sling. Then, dashing out again, he ran downstairs, crossed the garden, mounted the cliff zigzag path, and was soon after focussing the glass upon the men-of-war, which proved to be only a good-sized sloop followed by a trim-looking white-sailed cutter, both vessels with plenty of canvas spread, and gliding steadily over the smooth sunlit sea.
“Oh, I wish I’d known sooner!” groaned the lad, for he had hardly fixed the leading vessel before her bows began to disappear behind the point, and before ten minutes had elapsed the cutter was out of sight as well.
“I don’t know that I should much care about going to sea,” muttered Aleck, closing the glass, “but the ships do look so beautiful with their sails set, gliding along. What a pity! What a pity! I do wish I had known sooner.”
“What are they going to do there?” thought the boy, as he closed the glass and walked back to the cottage, where upon going upstairs to replace the glass he found his uncle in from his morning walk and about to settle down for a few hours’ work.
“Well, Aleck, boy,” he said; “been scanning the sea?”