"A capital match," said Jack laughing. "But I say, why do you barricade yourself in like that?" Gumley had replaced padlock, bolts and bars. "Any one would think you were making ready to stand a siege."
"Well, sir, I won't say 'tis to be ready for Boney's landing, and I won't say 'tisn't."
He was now stumping up the path toward the cottage, and said no more. Jack saw that he did not mean to enlighten him, and changed the subject.
"I say, Gumley, why didn't you help Mr. Gudgeon out yesterday? You went on and left me to do it."
"Ay, ay, sir. The truth is, Mr. Gudgeon and me bean't, so to say, on speaking terms."
Jack felt that there was something puzzling about all this. Gumley was not popular with the villagers, Mr. Bastable had said; the old sailor had confessed to a feud or at least a coolness between himself and his neighbor on the opposite cliff. There was an honest look about his weather-beaten face; he did not seem to Jack morose or ill-tempered. What was at the bottom of this strange attitude of antagonism, shown by the man's somewhat elaborate defenses? Well, after all, it did not matter to Jack; his leave would be up in a few days, and then his duty would take him to sea.
He sat for some time in Gumley's trim little parlor, where everything bespoke the handy Jack Tar, chatting about sea life in general and the Ariadne in particular. Then the talk came round to Jack's new vessel, the Fury, and brought up the question of smuggling.
"Mr. Gudgeon said that a good deal goes on about here," said Jack, "and by George! my cousin, Mr. Bastable, told me that the villains ran a cargo ashore only last night. I suppose he met the riding-officer as he went for his morning canter. Did you hear anything of it?"
"Not a word, sir. I keep myself to myself."
"Yes, Mr. Gudgeon said much the same thing, I remember. But I suppose you hear talk in the village sometimes?"