“Yes, yes, for do ye not see if we get into trouble, they’ll not be hard on us for his sake.”
This decided the matter. Jack did not hear these remarks, and went. The boat sailed off till she was out of sight of land, when she met with a long white lugger, and out of her received a quantity of goods, bales of silk, and ribbons, and lace, and then returned towards the shore. Night had come on—certain lights were seen, a signal that all was right, and without hesitation the smugglers pulled in towards the beach. Suddenly from behind a point two revenue boats darted out and gave chase. The smugglers’ galley was put about and pulled away along the coast. Jack’s hitherto peaceable friends were suddenly transformed into fierce savages. Their venture was a valuable one, and they swore that sooner than yield it they would lose their own lives, or take those of their opponents. Jack heartily wished that he had learned the object of their expedition, and had avoided coming. He, by this time, knew enough about the ways of smugglers to make him feel that he ought to have suspected that his friends were about some unlawful work.
Scarcely had Jack left the tower than a post-chaise came rumbling up the steep ascent which led to it. Had it come five minutes sooner Jack would not have gone down to the beach. It contained an old friend of his father’s, Captain Summers, who had come to spend a few days at the tower while his ship was refitting. She was a South Sea trader, generally sailing to the western coasts of America and the islands of the Pacific. Everybody in the household was so busy—Captain Askew in talking to his friend, Mrs Askew and Margery in getting his room ready, and Tom in preparing supper, that no one thought of Jack. It was not till they were seated at their evening meal that Jack was missed. Tom went out to make inquiries. He was not very well pleased when he at length learned that Jack had been seen with Bob Herring and some other men going off in Bill Starling’s galley, Bill being, as Tom well knew, one of the most determined smugglers belonging to Stormount Bay. “Well, Bob Herring would give his life before any harm should come to the lad, and Bill’s a clever chap, and it’s not likely that he’ll be getting into mischief,” said Tom to himself as he returned homewards.
As long as daylight lasted Captain Askew or Tom had their eye at the large telescope in the captain’s own room, ranging over the ocean in search of Bill Starling’s galley, but no where was she to be seen, and at length the captain became more anxious than he had ever before been about Jack. He had done his best to prevent Mrs Askew from being alarmed, but was on the point of going out himself to make inquiries about the galley, when a ring was heard at the gate, and Becky Bott, the maid, came to say that blind Peter, the pedlar, wanted to see the captain. Blind Peter with his dog Trusty traversed the country round, selling needles, thread, tape, and such like small wares. Peter seldom failed, when he required it, to obtain a crust of bread, and a piece of cheese, and a glass of cider for himself, and a few bones for his dog. He had always met with a kind reception at the tower, and seemed to have taken a very great fancy to little Margery. “It’s her sweet gentle voice I love to hear,” he said one day talking to Becky. “That’s what goes to my heart.”
“What brings you here, Peter, at this time of night?” asked Captain Askew, with some anxiety in his voice.
“I wish, captain, I could say it was pleasant news I’ve brought you, and yet when there’s evil it is better to know it, that we may find a remedy,” answered the blind man. “I wouldn’t like to frighten the missus though—but it’s just this—Master Jack has been taken with Bill Starling, Bob Herring, and a lot of other chaps, by the coastguards’ men, with a cargo of contraband, and they are all now on their way to Mr Ludlow’s. He’s long been wishing for such a haul, and he’ll commit one and all of them to prison, and Master Jack too, if you don’t go and bail him out.”
Peter’s news caused a considerable amount of anxiety, for Mr Ludlow’s stern character was well known. However, the only thing to be done was to set off immediately to see him. Fortunately the post-chaise which brought Captain Summers was still at the public-house in the village, and the postboy sufficiently sober to undertake to drive to the hall. The two captains found Mr Ludlow seated in magisterial state, with the prisoners before him, making out their committal for trial.
“I am very sorry for this, Captain Askew, very sorry,” he remarked, as they were introduced. “The case is clear against all the party, and your son was with them. He is young, and may have been led astray by others, but a severe example is necessary, and he must suffer with the rest. He will be sent to prison for a year, or to sea in a ship of war.” In vain Captain Askew and his friend pleaded for Jack. Mr Ludlow would not listen to their explanations. Captain Summers, as a last resource, offered to take Jack away with him to sea, and, to his surprise, Mr Ludlow at once agreed to the proposal. Jack was accordingly allowed to accompany his father and his friend home.
Jack, though he liked the thoughts of going to sea, was very sorry to leave his father and mother and dear little Margery, but he bravely kept up his spirits, that he might not grieve them more than he could help.
Not a word of complaint either did he utter against Mr Ludlow, or those who had brought him into trouble. “It will be a lesson to me through life to avoid associating with those who are doing wrong,” he remarked, and he said but little more on the subject.