The sentry was neatly seized and quickly gagged, and next moment the lieutenant, sword in hand, his men behind him, had rushed into the dimly-lit bothy.
“Surrender in the king’s name! The first who stirs is a dead man!”
It was beautifully done. Not a show of resistance was or could be made, and in less than an hour Tom Fairlie, with his crestfallen prisoners, had reached the harbour, where they were welcomed by a hearty cheer, which awakened the echoes of the rocks and a good many of the inhabitants of the village of Torquay.[A]
And now Captain Jack Mackenzie shook hands right heartily with his friend Tom Fairlie.
“Splendid night’s work, Tom,” he said. “A thousand thanks! Now the saucy Tonneraire may be called ready for sea.”
Splendid night’s work was it? Well, we now-a-days would think this impressment cruel—cruel to take men away from their homes and avocations, perhaps never to see their country more. Yet it must be admitted that smugglers like these, who had so long defied the law, richly deserved their fate.
CHAPTER X.
IN THE MOON’S BRIGHT WAKE.