Again, some thought the vessels Dutch, some French (I remember Dassell stood quite firm for Dutch); some dubbed them pirates, others privateersmen: but one and all agreed 'twas passing strange they flew no colours, and that the frigate veiled her guns; and therefore that the whole thing had an ugly look.
You may be sure I did not hear all this without thinking of the amazing things which I had seen, read, and heard that very morning at The Havering. Indeed, the more I stared at the three black invaders of our bay, the more my thoughts flew inland to that which lay hid behind the secret panel in my father's study, until at length the ships and box of ebony seemed joined in one black plot.
But, as our old sergeant used to put it when he caught us loose--let us have no mooning. Nor was there much chance for it that morning; for just as I was squinting at the ships through Dassell's spyglass, the crowd behind us swayed about, and a fisherman came elbowing and panting through it.
"Well, and what now, Joe Rockett?" asked Dassell, turning on him sharply. "Dost bring us news from Seatown, then?"
"News?" gasped the fellow, wiping the sweat from his forehead, for 'twas mighty hot. "News? Aye, that I do, sir. Cargoes of it!"
"Then let us have it quick," says Dassell. "What is it?"
"Why," replied the fellow, pointing to the ships, "you see them vessels, sir?"
"See 'em!" says Dassell, with a scornful laugh. "Good Lord, yes! Haven't we been staring at 'em for at least three hours?"
"Well," says the man, "just after daybreak a ten-oared boat put off from yonder frigate and came ashore at Seatown creek."
"I know that, Rockett," says the deputy, closing his spy-glass with a snap.