“Pray don’t let me hear anything more about the matter, or when I reach home I shall not be in a condition to receive the congratulations of my family,” said Lord Reginald. “I wish that the tide had been in and we had been able to get up to the village instead of having to trudge over these abominable shingles.”
“Certainly,” said Voules; “but the fellows are beneath your notice, though the incident was sufficient to put one out of temper. If I had thought Jennings would have consented, I would have proposed landing the boat’s crew and ducking the fellows; it would have brought them to reason pretty quickly.”
“You don’t know the character of the men hereabout, or you would not say so,” observed Lord Reginald. “That fellow Hargrave is a desperate young villain, and they are all smugglers and poachers, who would not scruple to burn down the hall if they had an opportunity. My father is determined to put a stop to their poaching and smuggling, but he has not as yet had much success, I believe. The smugglers, somehow or other, manage to land their cargoes when the revenue officers are out of the way, and the poachers dodge our gamekeepers, who vow that although they hear their shots, they can never catch them.”
“It will be good fun some night to try what we can do,” observed Voules. “We should soon get hold of them, and if they are sent to prison or shipped off to Botany Bay, it will keep the others in awe.”
The two seamen who carried the portmanteaus were listening to the remarks of the young officers spoken in loud tones. Every now and then they turned to each other, exchanging winks, and smiling contemptuously, though they looked as grave as judges when Voules happened to turn round for a moment to ascertain how far they had got from the boat. On and on they trudged, until at last harder ground was gained, and they soon reached the village inn, or rather beer-shop, for it aspired to no higher dignity. Great was their disgust to find that no conveyance of any sort was to be obtained nearer than Lymington, some three or four miles off, and it was doubtful whether the single post-chaise or yellow fly, which belonged to the place, would be disengaged.
“But Lord Reginald Oswald cannot walk all the way to Elverston Hall, and we must have a carriage of some sort or other, my good woman,” exclaimed Voules to the landlady.
“Then I must send out and find my man, who has been carting coals for old Captain Knockills on the top of the hill there. Our cart ain’t exactly fit for young gentlemen like you, but it’s better than nothing, as it will carry your ‘portmantles,’ and you can get in and ride when you are tired; so, if you will walk in and sit down in the bar, I’ll send the boy off at once. It won’t be long before my man is here, as he must have finished his work by this time.”
“Impossible!” exclaimed Voules. “Lord Reginald Oswald to be driven home in a coal-cart!”
The idea, however, seemed to tickle the fancy of the young lord, for he burst into a fit of laughter. “It will be better to reach the hall even in that way, than to wait in this wretched hole until we can obtain a carriage. Only, I say Voules, get them to put some clean hay or straw into the cart, or we and our portmanteaus will be covered with coal-dust.”
In the mean time the two seamen looked with wistful eyes at the cask of beer in the corner of the tap-room, but Voules, without offering them any, ordered them to hasten back to the boat. They grumbled as they went, looking back to ascertain if the midshipmen had left the inn, resolving to return, should they have the chance, to drink as many glasses of ale as they had money in their pockets to pay for.