The Master of Greylands: A Novel

by Mrs. Henry Wood

"Well, you see, Tom, it might ha' been them preventive-men,--'twarn't obliged to ha' been they smugglers," said Jack Tuff. "Both sides was firing off, by all account, as thick as thieves. Which ever 'twas, Mr. Harry have got his death-shot. How wet your jersey is!"

Tom Dance turned in at his own door, threw off the "jersey" and other articles of his fishing toggery, flung on dry things, and went up towards the throng round the Dolphin. Mr. Castlemaine was just crossing back to the Nunnery, and looked at him, some involuntary surprise in his eyes.

"Is it you, Dance?"

"It's me, sir: just got in with the tide. I be struck stupid, pretty nigh, hearing what they've been telling me, down there," added Tom, indicating the beach.

"Ay, no doubt," said the Master of Greylands, in a subdued tone. But he walked on, saying no more.

Tom Dance's confrères in the fishing trade had no idea but that he had sailed out in the ordinary way with the night tide. The reader knows that at midnight he was at least otherwise occupied. Tom had done a somewhat daring act. He and his son, alike uninjured in the fray, had escaped in the ship's boats; and Tom, flinging off his disguising cape and cap, his sea boots, and in fact most of his other attire, leaped into the water to swim to his fishing-boat, lying on the open beach. It was his one chance of non-discovery. He felt sure that neither he nor Walter had been recognized by Nettleby and his men; but, if they were to go off to Holland in the ship and so absent themselves from Greylands, it would at once be known that they were the two who had been seen taking part. No man in Greylands was so good a swimmer as Dance; and----he resolved to risk it. He succeeded. After somewhat of a battle, and the water was frightfully cold, he gained his boat. It had just floated with the incoming tide. By means of one of the ropes, of which there were several hanging over the side, he climbed on board, put on some of his sea-toggery that was there, and slipped the cable. The anchor was small, not at all difficult for one man to lift; but Tom Dance wanted to save both time and noise, and it was easiest to slip the cable. The moderate breeze was in his favour blowing off the land. He hoisted the staysail, and was soon nearing the ship, which was already spreading her canvas for flight. From the ship Dance took his son on board. They stayed out all night, fishing: it was necessary, to give a colouring to things and avert suspicion; and they had now, close upon midday, come in with a tolerable haul of fish. Walter had orders to stay on board, occupy himself there, and be still, while Tom landed to gather news and to see which way the wind lay.

But he had never thought to hear these sad tidings about Harry Castlemaine.

"It has a'most done me up," he said, returning on board again and speaking to his son. "He was the finest young fellow in the country, and the freest in heart and hand. And to be struck like this!"

"How much is known, father?" asked Walter, stopping in his employment of sorting the fish.

"Nothing's known that I can hear," growled Tom Dance, for he was feeling the crossness of affairs just then. "It's all laid on Teague's back--as Teague always good-naturedly said it would be, if a blow-up came."