“I don’t know that,” he said. “All I know is I don’t see any of it. Lord,” he added, as he had another look through the glass, “’tis the Coldlight, though—sithering fool. He’ll lead the Preventative men on the Island after him one o’ these days.”
“He’ll never get down to the fleet with the tide like this, whoever he is,” said the boy, staring out curiously at the white-sailed craft.
“Ah! you’re right there,” said Ben. “Curse the fool, he’ll get her stuck fast in the mud and have to stay all night. Lord!” he added, “when these wars be over there’ll be a deal more care taken in the trade, take my word for it. Why, this ain’t smuggling, it’s free trading.”
But the boy was not listening to him; his eyes were fixed on the Coldlight, now well in view.
“Look!” he said suddenly, “look, she’s turning.”
“Eh? What? Eh? So she is!” ejaculated the old man in a frenzy of excitement. “Do ’ee think she be coming here—eh?”
Hal spoke slowly, his eyes on the brig.
“Ay,” he said, “you’re right, she’s making for East—who did you say she was?”
“The Coldlight—the Coldlight, lad, commanded by the finest man in the trade—oh, my boy, the Island will swim in good Jamaica this night,” and he dropped the telescope, which fell clattering to the boards.
Hal picked it up and turned to give it to the old man, but he was off, tottering to the hatchway. There, kneeling on the deck and poking his head down, he called whiningly, “Pet! Pet! my own, will you come up and hear what I have to tell you? Great—great news, Pet.” Receiving no answer he tried again while the boy stood looking at him.