A slight touch of the lugger's tiller gave her sufficient sheer to allow the head sails to draw.
"Let go aft!" bawled Silas.
"All gone!" shouted one of the Alerte's crew.
Then like a wraith the lugger drew ahead. There was no doubt about her speed and handiness. Without having recourse to her motor, she glided between the rocky pinnacles and was soon lost to sight in the gathering mist.
"Eighteen hours stand easy, men!" announced Captain Cain. "Clear away and hands to diving stations. We'll lie here as comfortably as any one could wish till to-morrow evening. If all goes well, my lads, we'll rake in another twenty thousand or so before this week's out."
Within twelve hours from the time when she cast off from alongside the Alerte, the Fairy was creeping past the Cornish coast, with the little fishing port of Mousehole bearing one point on her port bow, distant about one mile.
The Fairy had made a quick and uneventful passage, averaging seven and a half knots. Captain Silas Porthoustoc was almost shaking hands with himself.
"Lawks!" he muttered. "'Yes a fair ole game. 'Ere's that there Cap'n Cain, as he calls hisself, a-tellin' me to put the stuff in such an' such a place until such times as they Lunnon men—fair sharks they be, drat 'em—come down wi' a moty car an' take it away. Then there's that Pengelly—I don't like him much, but 'e's a sight better'n t'other un says 'e, 'Don't 'ee du it, Silas. Hide the stuff in cave behind your kitchen, an' we'll share the profits.' Well, I dunno. There's one thing, they girt swells from Lunnon won't handle the stuff, or my name's not Silas Porthoustoc; nor will that Cap'n Cain. An' tes more'n likely as 'ow Cap'n Cain an' Mr. Pengelly'll row an' finish by blowin' holes in one another's skulls. That bein' so, I collar the lot."
He interrupted his dreams of avarice by glancing skyward. The wind, hitherto strong, had died away, which was just what he wanted.
"Garge!" he shouted to his mate. "'And that there topsail. We'm not puttin' into Newlyn—tide don't serve. We'll bring up inside Clement's Island. She'll be quite all right. If you an' young Bill want a spell ashore, you can, 'slongs you'm board come eight t'morrow morn."