“I am a shepherd.”
“I was sure of it by the manner in which you used these thongs. May I ask, is your sister dead?”
“She is not dead. How many men do you expect from the lugger when they land?”
“Ten, with the captain.”
“Well, lie you still now. I must, for the sake of fulfilling the orders of my commander, fasten your cords to the bedstead, or I may be blamed. So: that will do. Now, should the captain himself come to see you, he will be convinced that the foul play was not your part; and if he does not come to-night, I will. But time presses, and I must do my duty. Where is your lamp?”
“I see by your question,” said the old man, “that all is discovered. You want the lamp to put in the window upstairs; you will find it under the bed.”
There it was, and was soon lighted and put in its proper place: a joyful signal of success to the brave and patient coastguard, and a fatal lure to the desperadoes on board the smuggler.
“Now then, old friend, good-bye,” said Edward. “If success attend our scheme you and I may be better acquainted; you may be glad that you have told me all the truth. Farewell.”
The youth was soon on board the ferry-boat; and with much labour brought her to the same spot where he had before unmoored her. The tide had fallen some feet, and was near its last ebb, so that he very wisely drew her up as high as he could on to the shore, concluding that if he anchored her in the water when the tide flowed again, which it would soon do, it would cover the anchor on the shore. He drew her up far enough just to place her cable’s end at high-water mark; and having put the tholes in their proper places, he then walked across to the white flag. Just before he passed the dell, who should lift up his head but young Barry!
“I began to think our plan had not succeeded. Is all right?”