“I know what they’ve seen,” observed Toby. “They’ve seen many a cargo of smuggled silks, and teas, and brandies run hereabouts, in days gone by.”
“Oh, those smugglers are jolly fellows!” exclaimed Digby. “I should like to see something of their fun. I can’t fancy any finer sport than landing a cargo and having to run the gauntlet among a whole posse of revenue officers.”
“Something like prisoners’ base, you would say,” observed Marshall, “only, I suspect, with a greater chance of being caught and shut up for a longer time than would be pleasant.”
“I’ll tell you what it is, young gentlemen,” said Toby, who had been listening in silence to Digby’s and the other boys’ thoughtless remarks, “smuggling is a very bad business, let me tell you. I’ve seen something of it, and I know what it is. I’ve seen money made by it, I’ll allow, just as I’ve seen money made by other evil practices; but I’ve seen very many fine fellows brought to a bad end by it, and have never known any to prosper long at it. Laws were made for the good of all, and no man has a right to break them for his own advantage or pleasure. Though I’m only a poor boatman I’ve found that out, and it’s my duty to make others understand the truth, as well as I can.”
The boys confessed that they had never before seen the matter in that light. They had thought smugglers, and pirates, and bandits, and highwaymen, and outlaws of all descriptions very fine fellows; and it had never occurred to them that they should be looked upon as base scoundrels, who deserved to be hung, or severely punished in some other way.
“Now let us have out the lines,” exclaimed Power, who was eager to begin fishing. Two of the party paddled the boat on, relieving each other, at the rate of about two miles an hour.
Toby produced four long, thin lines, wound up on wooden reels. The lines were considerably slighter than log-lines. Five hooks were fastened to each, about a yard apart.
“But where is the bait?” asked Digby. “You cannot catch fish without bait.”
“Oh, mackerel are in no ways particular,” answered Toby; “a bit of tin or white rag will attract them; but see, I have some hooks with some capital bait. It is called a white cock’s hackle. The feathers are fastened on to the butt, and project an inch or more beyond the bend, so as to cover the barb. This is certain to catch any fish which see it.”
The lines were thrown overboard, one on each side, and one over each quarter. Toby assisted Digby to manage his.