“The dog couldn’t quite keep up with us, and maybe he has lost his way,” said Herring. “But never do you mind, Peter, I’ll lead you; here, take my arm.”
Poor Peter did as he was directed, and then he found himself going up some very rough stone steps, and then he knew by the change of air that he had been led through a doorway into a room, and that there were people in it, though they did not speak; and then Dick led him into another room, and told him to sit down on a chair, and that he must make up his mind to remain there for some days to come, and that if he promised to be quiet and to behave well, he should be well treated. Saying this, the smuggler walked out of the room, and bolted the door behind him.
Peter immediately got up and felt about the room. It contained, he ascertained, a low pallet bed, a table and a chair, and had a small lattice window, with a bar across it; but it was so small that even without the bar he could scarcely have got through it had he wished. He opened the window gently. He could hear the sough of the sea on the beach, far down below him. “I thought as much,” he said to himself, “they have brought me to old Dame Herring’s cottage, upon Eastdown Cliff. I was here as a boy more than once, and could find my way from it easy enough, if I had Trusty’s help to keep me from any pits or holes dug of late. I know the reason why this has been done. They suspect that I know what I do know, and perhaps more, and they want to keep me out of the way till they have carried out their undertaking. However, they might have treated me worse; so I’ll not complain, but try and take matters easily.”
Saying this he took off his wallet and the knapsack which contained his wares, and threw himself at his length on the bed, intending to go to sleep. He had not lain there very long when the door opened and some person looked in, and placing something on the table retired again, bolting the door. In a short time several people came into the larger room, most of whom Peter knew by their heavy tread were men in large boots.
“Well! Mother Herring, do you promise us success in our venture, we’ve been waiting long enough for it?” said one of the new comers in a gruff voice.
“If you do as I bid you this time you will succeed,” answered an old woman, whom by her cracked, harsh voice, Peter, even had she not been named, would at once have recognised. “But, as I before told you, if you want to make all secure, get hold of the son of old Ludlow. He dotes on the boy, and you would have the father in your power, if you could get hold of the son.”
“So we should, long ago, if it hadn’t been for blind Peter; howsomedever, we can keep him quiet for some time.”
“I mind the time before the captain came to the Tower, the matter was much more easier than it now is,” said an old man, whom Peter knew as a daring smuggler all his life. “That was a first-rate place, I believe you.”
“Then why not get rid of the captain and his family?” croaked out old Mother Herring; “what business has he to come interfering with people’s rights?”
“More easily said, Mother Herring, than done,” exclaimed another of the party. “The captain is a tough old bird, not to be driven from his perch in a hurry.”