“No, not yet, but we shan’t be long,” replied Eben Trezise with a knowing smile.
“It’s warm work,” observed Maggot, as he looked down the hole, and saw that what the boatsman said was true, and that they would not be long of reaching the spot where the liquor had been concealed.
Trezise admitted that it was warm work, and paused to wipe his heated brow.
“I wish we had a drop o’ water here,” he said, looking up.
“Ha!” exclaimed Maggot; “not much chance o’ findin’ water in that hole, I do think—no, nor brandy nuther.”
“Not so sure o’ that,” said Trezise, resuming his work.
“Now, et is a shame to let ’ee die here for want of a drop o’ water,” said Maggot in a compassionate tone; “I’ll send my booy hum for some.”
The boatsmen thanked him, and Zackey was ordered off to fetch a jug of water; but his father’s voice arrested him before he had gone a hundred yards.
“Hold on a bit, my son.—P’raps,” he said, turning to Trezise, “you’d come up hum with me and have a dish o’ tay? Missus have got it all ready.”
The invitation appeared to gratify the boatsmen, who smiled and winked at each other, as though they thought themselves very clever fellows to have discovered the whereabouts of a hidden treasure, and to be refreshed in the midst of their toil by one whom they knew to be a noted smuggler, and whom they strongly suspected of being concerned in the job they were at that time endeavouring to frustrate. Throwing down their tools they laughingly accepted the invitation, and clambered out of the shaft.