“Tim’s no scoundrel,” said I hotly, “though he’s on the wrong side. He’s a gentleman; and when it comes to that, I’ve no right to talk of him as my brother at all.”
“Well, please yourself,” said Captain Felton, who evidently did not care to discuss the matter. “That doesn’t concern me, as long as you handle the Gnat smartly and get into no scrapes yourself. We can’t afford to let private concerns interfere with the king’s business.”
Two days later all was ready, and, to my great relief, we weighed anchor and ran out of the bay with a brisk south-easterly breeze. The Gnat proved an excellent sailer, and, fitted as she was with ten six-pounders, and manned by a crew of twenty smart hands, she was a formidable enough customer for any smuggler that had to reckon with her.
We put in at Larne in expectation of getting some news of the marauders we were in search of, but found none. We were, however, warned to keep our eyes open not only for smugglers, but for foreign craft which were said to be at the old business of landing arms for the Ulster rebels, who by all accounts were in a very red-hot state, and longing anxiously for the signal to rise. Indeed, so threatening did things appear generally that the authorities gave Captain Felton peremptory instructions to allow nothing to stand in the way of his communicating immediately to headquarters any intelligence (particularly as to the expected French landing) with which in the course of his cruise he might meet.
“This puts a boot on our other leg,” said the captain to me that evening, as we watched the sunset light fade over Fair Head. “It seems to me collecting customs will be the least part of our business. Never mind. I’d sooner put a bullet into a rebel any day than into a poor beggar who tries to land a keg of whisky for nothing. Fortune send us either, though!”
It seemed as if this wish were not without reason; for though we cruised up and down for a fortnight, watching every bay and creek between Ballycastle and Sheep Haven, we came upon nothing but honest fisher craft and traders.
At last, to my relief—for I was growing impatient to hear news of my little mistress—Captain Felton bade me run the cutter into Lough Swilly. And knowing my desire, he made an excuse to send me ashore at Rathmullan for provisions, bidding me return within three days, unless I was signalled for earlier.
It was a Sunday morning when I found myself once more in the familiar inn at Rathmullan. I soon found that my host, who took little note of his customers, did not remember me; and he was civil enough now to one of his Majesty’s lieutenants, and eager to execute my commissions for stores.
“Faith, sir,” said he, “and it’s some of us will be glad to see the luck back, for it’s gone entirely since the troubles began.”
“You mean the smuggling?” said I, by way of drawing him out.