“That’s just what no one can say exactly,” answered Ned, “still it’s pretty well known that there is nothing he would not dare to do if he chose to do it. He says he is one thing, and we know he is another. When he first came to Hurlston, he used to call himself a miller, and there is not a bolder seaman to be found anywhere. He does not now, however, pretend that he isn’t. Many is the cargo of smuggled goods he has run on this coast, and yet he always manages to keep out of the clutches of the revenue officers. There are not a few decent lads he has got to go aboard his craft, and they have either lost their lives, or turned out such ruffians that they have been a sorrow and disgrace to their families. He is more than suspected of having been a pirate, or something of that sort, in foreign parts. And they say when he first came to Hurlston, he seemed to know this coast as well as if he had been born and bred here, though he told people that chance brought him to the place, and that he had never set eyes on it before.”
“At all events, if common report speaks true, Hurlston will be well rid of him, if he does not venture back. I hope that the law will, at all events, be able to lay hands on the villain should it be proved that he kidnapped your friend Jacob,” observed Headland.
“If the cutter catches his craft, Jacob may be saved. I am more than afraid that Gaffin will knock him on the head, and heave him overboard with a shot to his feet, if he finds that he is hard-pressed, and then he will deny ever having had the poor fellow on board.”
“I trust, bad as he is, that he will not be guilty of such an act,” said Headland, though, at the same time, he feared, from what he had heard of Gaffin, that he would not scruple to commit that or any other dark deed to serve his purpose.
Headland was thankful when at length the boat glided into the Tex, and ran alongside the quay.
Several people were standing there. The news of what had occurred had spread about the village. Headland, anxious to lose no time, asked if any boy would be willing to run on to the Texford Arms to order his horse.
“Say Captain Headland’s horse, the gentleman who accompanied Mr Harry Castleton,” he said.
“Captain Headland!” said a person standing near, stepping up to him. “May I venture to ask where you come from?”
“I shall be happy to reply when I know to whom I speak,” said Headland, not quite liking the man’s tone of voice.
“I am Miles Gaffin, the miller of Hurlston. My good neighbours here have been making pretty free with my name, and accusing me of carrying off one of their number on board a lugger, which I understand you have been chasing, sir, when I have had nothing to do with the matter, having been miles away at the time the occurrence is said to have taken place.”