At length the complete message was deciphered. It ran as follows--

RISE ARRIVE P H NAVIRE SOUS CONVOI E FREGATE PARTENT VENDREDI POUR

JAMAIQUE SANDI COVE SAMEDI.

This was certainly clearer; it was decidedly French for the most part;

but what did "RISE," "P," "H" and "E" mean? In a few minutes Jack

jumped to the meaning of H and E; they were to be taken as numbers, not

as letters; eleven merchant ships under convoy of two frigates were

leaving on Friday for Jamaica. What about "RISE?" He remembered by and

by that he had not begun to write until the signaling had been in

progress for some time. "RISE" was probably the end of a word. What

French word ended so? He put other letters in turn before the

perplexing syllable: _brise, crise, grise, prise_. PRISE! Captured!

He saw it at last. The signaler was informing the men of the lugger

that a captured ship had arrived; P stood for Portsmouth; and Jack had

no doubt that the ship meant was the _Glorieuse_.

All that was left of the message were the last three words: "SANDI COVE

SAMEDI." These suggested that Sandy Cove was to be the scene of a cargo

run on Saturday; but Jack had never heard of Sandy Cove. For the moment

he gave no more thought to it; the first part of the message was of much

greater importance than any smuggling business.

The mystery was becoming clear at last. No wonder the French showed a

disconcerting knowledge of the movement of English ships! De Fronsac was

a spy! So far from detesting the Monstair, he was actually in the

Monstair's pay. His business was to supply the Monstair with

information. And his cunning had found a means to avoid the perils that

otherwise might have beset his task. He had made friends of the

Luscombe smugglers, ostensibly cast in his lot with them, so that he

might have opportunities of signaling information to the French. Jack

saw through the scheme in a flash.

It was Wednesday. Obviously there was no time to be lost if the ships

to sail on Friday were to be saved. The lugger would convey the message

to one of the western ports of France, and the enemy's cruisers would

come out in sufficiently large force to cut off the merchantmen and

convoy. They could indeed afford to wait a few days, for even if the

wind proved favorable for the sailing of the English vessels, they would

make such slow progress that a French fleet in pursuit could overhaul

them speedily, and, knowing their destination, would probably have

little difficulty in finding them. Admiral Horniman must be at once

informed of the discovery.

The men having by this time returned from their errand on shore, Jack at

once hoisted sail and ran back to Portsmouth, keeping well out in the

Channel off Luscombe to avoid recognition. The admiral spent five

minutes in blowing off a considerable amount of warm language when he

heard the story.

"The merchantmen shall sail if the wind favors," he said, when he had

recovered. "But I'll increase their escort, and the French shall get an

unpleasant surprise, I promise 'em, if they act on the information

they've got. And that Frenchman at Luscombe, I'll string him up to the

yard-arm. I'll stop his signaling. I'll give orders for the tower to

be occupied, and every one found there put in irons and clapped under

hatches."

"I don't think you'll find any one there, sir," Jack ventured to

suggest. "Fronsac's hand in glove with the smugglers, that's the

meaning of 'Sandy Cove Saturday.' If any of our men are seen making a

move in Luscombe direction the news will be signaled along the coast.

They'd all clear out. Couldn't we play their own game, sir?"

"What d'you mean?"

"I don't exactly see all the way, sir; but what occurred to me was that

we might do a little signaling and catch 'em in their own net."

"A capital notion! By gad, we'll do it! We'll have to let 'em make

their run on Saturday?"

"Yes, sir, and arrange to signal from the tower next Wednesday."

"Very well. I leave it to you. You seem to have got some brains. Come

to me if you want any assistance."

Before he returned to the _Fury_ Jack scribbled a note to his mother

announcing his safe return, and begging her on no account to let the

news travel to Bastable Grange. It was better that for the present his

cousins should be ignorant of his whereabouts.

On reaching the cutter he started on a run up the coast. He wished to

keep away from Luscombe until Saturday. Though he had no intention of

interfering with the smugglers' run on that day, he was anxious to

witness it. For one thing, it would prove whether he had read the

intercepted message aright; moreover, he particularly desired to find

out who was engaged in the business. Knowing what a close watch was

kept by the smugglers, he recognized that it would not be easy to learn

what he wished; but his successes in France had tended to dim the memory

of certain less fortunate incidents at Luscombe.

He now took Babbage and Turley into his confidence. When he mentioned

Sandy Cove he met with an unexpected check.

"There ain't no such place, sir--leastways, not on this coast," said

Turley.

"Are you sure?" Jack insisted.

"Sartin, sir."

"That's strange. I don't think I read the word wrongly. I could be

sure it was Sandi, the way a Frenchman would spell it. We'll have to go

back to Portsmouth and get a chart of the coast; we may find something

that looks like it."

But when he got a chart from the admiral he searched it in vain. There

was no such name as Sandy Cove. He was convinced that he had not

mistaken the signal; all that could be done now was to inquire in the

neighborhood of Luscombe whether any of the inlets was locally known by

that name. But with the exception of the Bastables he knew of no one

whom he could trust, and he had a strong reason for avoiding the

squire's house; nothing must be done that might put De Fronsac on his

guard.

Then a thought of Gumley came to him--Joe Gumley, the one-legged sailor.

He was Luscombe born; though he kept himself to himself, he would

probably know the whereabouts of Sandy Cove. And he might safely be

asked the question, for, never a friend to the smugglers, he had a

distinct grudge against them since that day when his garden was

ransacked, and he was the least likely of men to give them any

information.

"Yes, I'll ask Gumley," thought Jack. "It can't do any harm."

It was afternoon when he steered the _Fury_ into a sheltered cove some

six miles west of Luscombe. He had chosen the spot because the coast

there was rugged, and the shore uninhabited, and the cutter might lie

safe from wind and wave, and from observation by too inquisitive people.

"Now, Babbage," said Jack as he stepped ashore, "I leave you in charge.

Keep quiet, and be on your guard."

"Ay, ay, sir. And what if you don't come back, sir, like as 'twas six

months ago t'other side of Luscombe?"

"Run back to Portsmouth and report to the admiral. But I'll be back,

never fear."

He had exchanged his midshipman's hat for a wide-brimmed beaver, and

wore a long cloak which made him look more like a magistrate's clerk

than a sailor. Thus disguised, he walked over the beach, climbed the

cliff, and struck into a path which would lead by a roundabout way into

the Luscombe road. It was very unlikely that he would meet any of the

Luscombe people in this direction; but Babbage's question reminded him

of the unlucky end of a similar errand in the previous autumn, and he

smiled somewhat grimly as he remembered his resolve to get even with his

captors.

A white mist lay over the land, striking very cold against his face.

But it favored his chances of escaping notice if any one should meet

him, and he was indeed glad of the obscurity when, in the driver of a

gig that passed him, he thought he recognized the bulky form of Mr.

Gudgeon. Save for this solitary traveler, the road was quite deserted,

and he arrived without adventure at Gumley's cottage.

He looked over the fence. No one was to be seen. Though it was already

almost dark, owing to the mist, no light appeared in the cottage window.

"Ahoy O!" he called, without raising his voice, making a trumpet of his

hands so that the sound would carry. There was no answer.

He rapped on the fence, calling "Ahoy O!" again. Still there was no

reply.

"Here goes!" he said to himself. Stripping off his cloak he folded it

and laid it on the nails, then clambered over and hastened to the door.

"I say, Gumley, let me in," he said, rapping.

"Who be 'ee? This bean't no inn."

"It's me, Gumley--Jack Hardy, you know."

"Tell that to the marines. Mr. Hardy's far away. Get along with 'ee."

"Don't be a jackass, Gumley. Open the door. Comely will know me if you

don't."

"'Ware dog, then, and if his teeth jine in your legs 'tis your own

doing, whoever ye be!"

There was a rattling of the bolts. The door was opened. The bulldog

rushed out, and with a growl of pleasure began to rub his nose against

Jack's trousers.

"There you are, you see," he said, stepping into the cottage, to find

Gumley standing on guard with a blunderbuss.

"Well, sir, this is a rare surprise. I seemed to know your voice, but

thought for sure it must be your ghost. Never did I expect to see you

no more in this world, sir, and right glad I be."

"So am I, Gumley. But fasten up again, and light your lamp. I want to

talk to you."

"But how did ye escape, sir?" asked Gumley, as he shot the bolt and led

the way to his kitchen.

"'Tis too long a story to tell you now. Another time. But why, man,

what's the matter with you? You look very down in the mouth."

"Ay, and so I feels, sir. What with worry and the rheumatics I feel I

be not long for this world. I've bin twisted up with it all winter,

sir. Since I sold they artichokes to Squire Bastable I've bin as

useless as an old hulk. In course, some folks might think me lucky

having only one leg to get the rheumatics in; but chok' it all, sir, the

pain's just as bad in the wooden leg as 'tis in t'other; ay, and worse,

'cos I can doctor my natural leg, whereas not all the surgeons of King

Jarge hisself could do this old stump any good."

"'Tis hard lines, indeed. But what's been worrying you?"

"Sit ye down, sir, and I'll tell 'ee about it."

*CHAPTER XV*

*TAR AND FEATHERS*

"Fust and foremost, sir," said Gumley, having lit his pipe, "my poor old

moke is dead. Ah! he served me well for many a year, and carried tons

and tons o' garden stuff into Wynport. But now he's gone, and if so be

I can do any digging and planting this spring I'll have no one to carry

my vegetables to market."

"'Twas old age, I suppose. He looked on his last legs when I saw him

first on the Luscombe road six months ago."

"No, sir, 'twarn't old age. If he had been left alone he'd have lived

to be as old as Methusalum. No, 'twarn't old age, nor overwork neither."

"What was it, then?"

Gumley hesitated. He looked at the locked door and the shuttered

window, got up and went to the back door, bending his head forward as if

listening. Then he returned to his chair, and, between two puffs, said,

under his breath--

"'Twere p'ison, sir."

"Poison!"

"Ay, sir. Jerry--so I called him, sir--were sound as a ship's bell one

night, sir; next morning he were dead as mutton."

"But how do you know 'twas poison?"

"'Cos that very same day Comely was took bad and well-nigh went to

glory, too. Where Comely goes, Gumley follers; my rheumatiz were very

bad that day."

"'Tis plain you've got enemies, Gumley. I'm sorry for you. Comely

looks all right now, at any rate. We'll see what we can do to get you a

new donkey. But I mustn't waste time. I'll tell you what I've come

for. Do you know where Sandy Cove is?"

Gumley gave a start, and looked round the room again with that uneasy

glance which had attracted Jack's attention before.

"Axing your pardon, sir, would ye say why and wherefore you want to know

that?"

"I don't think I can--at all events, not yet. But I'll tell you one

thing. I'm on the king's business, and that will be enough for an old

king's man, eh, Gumley?"

"True, sir, God save the king! All the same, I'd rather ye axed your

question of some one else."

"There is no one else. Come, Gumley, out with it. What is the

mystery?"

Gumley still hesitated. He scratched his poll, rubbed the dog's head,

stirred an imaginary fire with his wooden leg, and once more glanced

uneasily at the window.

"This won't do," said Jack. "Joe Gumley, I call upon you, in the king's

name, to answer this question at once. Where is Sandy Cove?"

"If you puts it like that, sir, as a king's man--leastways, I was afore

I got this plaguy leg--I'm bound to make a clean breast of it. Sandy

Cove is the name what the smugglers give to that there little chine just

below Mr. Gudgeon's farm."

"Ah! And how came you to know that?"

"Well, sir, if truth must be told, in the king's name, I were a smuggler

myself once, afore I became a king's man."

"I see! And the smugglers are down on you, are they, because you won't

join 'em again?"

"How can I, sir? Once a king's man, always a king's man--to say nothing

of the wooden leg. I served his Majesty for many a year, sir, and I

bean't a-going to turn agen him. Not but what 'tis main hard, for

smuggling's an uncommon fine trade--if so be I can make bold to speak

free afore a king's officer."

"I won't peach," said Jack, laughing. "Speak freely? Of course you

can. And you'd better tell me all about it now. You look as uneasy as

if you were sitting on pins."

"So I be, sir, and that's the truth. No longer ago than last Wednesday,

Mr. Goodman he chanced to come upon a string of carts carrying smuggled

goods from Luscombe to Wickham Ferrers. He nabbed the whole lot, sir,

horses and all. And my old mates got the notion into their noddles that

'twas me as blabbed--me, sir, what knowed no more about it than that

there innocent dog. But they believe it; and there 'tis. They swore

they'd make me smart for it, and I dursn't stir out o' my door for fear

I get a good crack on the nob or something just as awk'ard."

"I don't understand why they're so down on you. You keep yourself to

yourself, as you told me. Why should they think 'twas you split on

them?"

"I make it out this way, sir. I'm a' old smuggler, and know all the

secrets o' the trade. I'm a' old king's man, too. They don't square.

I won't jine my old mates, and they, being a bit wooden-headed, thinks

I'm agen 'em. I bean't agen 'em, only I bean't for 'em. I can't go

agen the king, nor I can't go back on my old mates; but bless your soul,

_they_ don't see what I mean when I says I keep myself to myself."

"Well, you can't run with the hare and hunt with the hounds. But what's

that?"

He sprang up from his chair and went toward the shuttered window.

Comely went to the door, growling. From without, muffled by the

distance, came the tramp of heavy feet along the road, mingled with the

hum of voices.

"'Tis come, sir," sighed Gumley, leaning back in his chair resignedly.

"Here they be at last. I knowed this would be the end of it. They said

they'd tar and feather me, and they be come to do it."

"Two can play at that game, Gumley. I'd sooner not be recognized now,

but I'll not leave you to deal with 'em single-handed."

"I take it very kind o' you, sir, but there's no call for you to be

mixed up in it. If they mean to get in, in they'll get, sure enough;

and ye'll only land yourself in a nasty rumpus, and do no good. Thank

ye kindly. I'll let ye out by the back door afore they come, and me and

Comely'll do what we can, for chok' it all, it bean't in human nature to

be tarred and feathered without a bit of a scrimmage."

"No, no. If you're going to make a fight of it, I'll lend a hand.

We're well armed. You've your blunderbuss and a cutlass; I've two

pistols and a dirk; and our good friend Comely here has excellent teeth,

I'll be bound."

At this moment a loud shout was heard from the road, followed by an

insistent knocking on the gate. Gumley stumped up the rickety stairs to

the floor above, threw open the windows looking on the garden, and

shouted:

"Who be you, and what do 'ee want?"

"We want you, Joe Gumley," came the hoarse answer, "and we're gwine to

have 'ee, too."

"I bean't deaf, Tom Berry, so ye needn't bust your fog-horn. What do

'ee want wi' me?"

"We'll show 'ee. You bin peaching, you dirty mean sneaker. Come down

along, and we'll give 'ee a fair trial afore the men as used to be your

mates."

"No, thank 'ee, Tom. Whoever says I bin peaching says a lie, and as for

trial, why, I bean't a fool, I bean't. If I wants trying I'll go afore

a justice o' the peace like Squire Bastable, or a judge and jury at the

'sizes, and not afore Tom Berry or Bill Widdicombe or any other

mumble-chopped chaw-bacon. See then, I don't want to use hard words to

old ship-mates o' mine, but--"

Jack heard no more, for Gumley's words were drowned by a volley of

shouts and curses from the men below. He let down the window with a

bang.

"They be coming over, sir," he called to Jack. "'Tis all hands to repel

boarders. They're mounting on balks of wood to 'scape the nails. Now

they're over. And they be split into two parties, half a dozen each;

and one's coming straight for the front door; t'other's gone round to

the back. I be coming, sir, I be coming."

By the time he reached Jack's side the men had begun to batter

simultaneously at both the doors with the balks of wood which, knowing

Gumley, they had brought with them, evidently anticipating resistance.

The men at the front door were protected by a narrow porch; those at the

back were fully exposed; and Jack saw that unless something were done at

once to check them they would soon be able to break a way in, for the

doors were not very substantial pieces of timber, and could not long

stand the heavy battering to which they were now being subjected.

He stood with Gumley and the dog at the front door.

"What's your blunderbuss loaded with, Gumley?" he said.

"Small shot, sir."

"Then I tell you what we'll do. I'll fling the door open; you fire at

their legs; then we'll all three charge 'em. We've only half a dozen to

deal with; the men at the back will stop work when they hear the row.

They'll come rushing round. Be ready to get back and haul the dog off.

I'll keep my pistols in reserve; the less firing the better; we don't

want all Luscombe here. Lend me a muffler, quick!"

He pulled the brim of his hat down over his face, turned up the collar

of his cloak, and wrapped the muffler Gumley gave him closely round his

chin. All the time the men were hammering at the door, and Comely was

moving restlessly about, uttering deep growls.

"Standby, Gumley!"

Jack quickly slipped the bolts, threw the door open, and dodged back.

There was a blinding flash, a roar, and yells of pain and rage from the

smugglers, who, crouching in the porch around their battering-ram,

received the crammed charge of the blunderbuss about their legs. They

dropped the timber, and gave back a little. Before they had recovered

from their surprise, the bulldog, snarling with fury, was among them,

and behind him came Jack and Gumley, who laid about them doughtily with

cutlass and dirk--using, however, the flat, for neither wished to do any

serious hurt unless they were hard-pressed.

Amazement was now turned to confusion and fright. The intruders had no

thought but to hobble out of the way of these furious combatants. But as

they pushed one another toward the garden they were met by their

comrades from the rear, whom the shout and the cries had interrupted, as

Jack expected. Their arrival only doubled the confusion. Amid the

babel of shouts they could hear nothing of what had happened. Some of

the men were still yelling under the blows of the dirk and cutlass; and

when one howled "Ho! Hi! Help! The dog's got me!" they were seized

with uncontrollable panic; and with one consent bolted down the garden

and scrambled over the fence, with no small damage to their nether

garments from the nails, never pausing until they perceived that no

pursuit was attempted.

One man, however, was left on the field. In the entrance to the porch

lay a big fellow groaning. Comely held him fast by the leg. Gumley

hastened to him and tried to release him from the dog's teeth, but,

finding that impossible, he dragged dog and man bodily into the cottage,

slammed the door, and bolted it. Jack was already inside.

"Let go, Comely, old boy," said his master, stooping to release the man,

who, half dead with fright, lay groaning where Gumley had dropped him.

"Why, what are ye bellowing like a sea-serpent for?" he added. "His

teeth never went further than your leggings! Who be ye for a

chicken-hearted--why, dash my buttons, 'tis Bill Gudgeon! Oh, Billy,

what a' example to set your good feyther! Oh, my goodness, won't he be

took bad with the flutters when he hears this! Ahoy, Mr.----! Avast

there, Joe Gumley, blowed if you wasn't just a-going to put your foot in

it. Billy, my son, you come along o' me."

He hauled the trembling youth into the kitchen, and pushed him into a

chair, where he sat immovable, in mortal terror of the bulldog, which

stood by, fixing him with his thirsty eyes.

Meanwhile Jack had gone to the upper window to see what had become of

the enemy. They were out of sight, but when he opened the window he

guessed by their voices that they were in conference just beyond the

fence.

"Ay, and more'n Gumley!"

In the still air of the frosty March evening the hoarse whisper came

clearly to Jack's ears:

"In course; there was his dog."

"I knows that. But I seed another man, all in black, with his hat over

his eyes and his face all swaddled up: Goodman hisself, maybe."

"Well, I be gwine home along. I've got a score o' pellets somewhere

about my legs, and they'll p'ison my blood less I pick 'em out soon."

"Ay true, and we'll go lame for a month or more. Chok' it all! Who'd

ha' thowt old Joe would ha' bin so fierce!"

As they were moving away, a gig rattled up and stopped.

"'Tis Mr. Gudgeon, so 'tis," Jack heard a rough voice say.

"Not so loud!" was the hasty answer. "What luck, lads?"

"None at all, and be hanged to it. We've not got nowt but a trouncing,

Mr. Gudgeon."

"Lower, speak lower, man. What happened?"

"Blunderbuss and cutlass and dog's teeth; that's what happened, Mr.

Gudgeon, as your boy Bill could tell 'ee. Why, where be the lad?"

"Been and creeped home along, by the look o't," said another man. "He

bean't here. There's blood for 'ee! There's spirit! What a

bold-hearted first-born you have got, to be sure, Mr. Gudgeon!"

"Hush, man! Here, come along. I can take four or five of 'ee in the

gig, and you can tell me the whole story as we go."

The gig rattled away; the men for whom there was not room shambled

after; and Jack smiled as he returned to the kitchen.

"There, Comely, watch him!" Gumley was saying. "I be gwine to look

around the garden, sir, to make sure none on 'em be left."

Jack made no reply, but stood at the door while Gumley stumped round the

inclosure. He came back by and by grinning.

"They be all gone, sir, all but this." He held up a pail out of which

the handle of a brush was sticking, and a bundle of feathers. "'Twas by

the back door, sir."

"Ah! I've a notion. Shut the door and come along, Gumley."

Keeping his feathers well covered, and deepening his voice to the lowest

pitch possible, Jack addressed the prisoner, who sat in shivering

stillness, his eyes fixed on the vigilant dog.

"Now, Bill Gudgeon, you shall choose. Spend the night with the dog, and

go before Squire Bastable to-morrow; or use this brush you came to

use--on yourself. 'Twould be a pity to waste such excellent tar."

"And the feathers be uncommon soft," added Gumley.

The victim lifted his eyes for one moment, but said never a word.

"Come, come, make up your mind. The dog--or the tar brush."

Still the lad hesitated. Fright seemed to have tied his tongue.

"Very well, the dog, then. If he goes for you in the night you'd better

sing out."

"Watch him, Comely!"

The dog acknowledged the order with a growl of satisfaction, and Jack

and Gumley moved toward the door.

"Stop, measter! Stop, Joe Gumley!" cried the unhappy youth, finding his

voice at last. "Not the dog! For gracious goodness' sake, not the

dog."

"Off with your coat then," said Jack, finding some difficulty in keeping

his voice at the proper profundity.

"Ay, or your good feyther'll have the flutters worse'n ever," said

Gumley. "Such a good coat, too good to spoil."

Bill Gudgeon removed his coat, always eying the dog, which stood

watching with intelligent appreciation. Then Gumley handed him the

brush.

"A little on the nose to begin with," said Jack.

Forthwith Bill's nose was black.

"Now the cheeks; no--a little more, if you please--yes, that's right.

Now a dab across the forehead: don't spare the tar, there's plenty more

in the pail--yes, that's capital! Now a few feathers, Gumley."

The trembling lad stuck the feathers, as they were handed to him, on the

glistening tar. He groaned once, but Comely's echoing growl silenced

him and made him hurry.

"Now I think he'll do," said Jack at last.

"Beautiful, sir! Whoever seed a better job this side of the line?"

"Listen, Bill Gudgeon! You'll tell your father that if Mr. Gumley is

molested again, you and your mates will be hauled up before Squire

Bastable and sent to cool your heels in the lock-up. You can go!"

Bill took his coat, rose from the chair, and sidled to the door, his

eyes never leaving the dog. He was gone!

Jack sat down and laughed quietly.

"I think he's had enough, Gumley. Now I must go. I'll see you again

soon."

*CHAPTER XVI*

*A RUN AT SANDY COVE*

It took Jack much longer in the darkness to return to the _Fury_ than it

had taken to reach the cottage, and he found that Babbage was becoming

uneasy.

"All safe, men?" he said.

"Ay, ay, sir. And you, sir?"

"Right as a trivet. Heave the anchor, boys; I want to be fifty miles

away by the morning."

He required a little time for thinking out a plan for turning to account

his discovery of the signaler's code, and meanwhile it was desirable to

keep out of the smugglers' reach. Before dawn he dropped anchor at a

little fishing village fifty miles west of Luscombe. It was a remote

and secluded spot, and there was little chance of the _Fury's_ presence

coming to the ears of the Luscombe folk for some days.

"I'm going ashore again, Babbage. Lie quietly here. I may be away a

couple of days."

Still disguised, he went into the village, hired a gig, and drove thirty

miles in the Luscombe direction to the village of Middleton, about ten

miles from the sea. He put up at the _Pig and Whistle_, scribbled a

note to the riding-officer and despatched it by a horseman to Wynport.

"SIR" (he wrote),--

"Be good enough to meet me here this evening. Ask at the inn for Mr.

Loveday. The matter is urgent, and the business the king's.

"Yours truly,

"JACK HARDY."

At six o'clock Mr. Goodman appeared.

"I am here, Mr. Hardy, but 'tis most inconvenient. I take it rather hard

that a man of my age--"

"Exactly, Mr. Goodman. I'm not so old as you, and I should have come to

you if I hadn't good reasons for keeping clear of the coast folk. I've

information that the smugglers intend to make a run to-morrow."

"Is that all? Why, I often get such information, and nine times out of

ten it is false. Besides, what's the good of knowing that a run is to

be made if you don't know where?"

"I do know where."

"Oh, in that case leave it to me. I'll bag the whole gang. There's a

score of rascals at Luscombe I'd like to hang--ay, and will, too. If

your news is correct, 'twill be pretty soon, I promise you."

"Just so, Mr. Goodman. But meanwhile I've come to arrange that the run

may be made without interference."

"What! Do I hear ye aright? A king's officer name such a thing to me!

'Pon my soul and body, Mr. Hardy, I'm surprised at you. 'Twill be my

duty--a painful duty, Mr. Hardy--to report the matter. Never in the

whole seventeen years of my service have--"

"Quite so, Mr. Goodman," Jack interrupted. "But Admiral Horniman thinks

that in this case the king's service requires this little departure from

the ordinary course. And 'twill only make the capture of your rascals

more certain in the end. We have to meet them with their own

weapons--match ruse with ruse; and that's why, with the admiral's

approval, I want you and your land-guard to help me."

Jack smiled so pleasantly and spoke with such an air of deference that

the riding-officer, taking what he said as a compliment to his own

astuteness, thawed.

"A capital idea, Mr. Hardy! Exactly; play their own game. The admiral

was always a man of sense. But what do you propose?"

Then followed a long conversation, in which Jack explained as much of

his plan as he thought would suffice. Mr. Goodman was captivated with

the notion, and left by and by in high good-humor with Jack, himself,

and everybody.

Jack did not know the time of the intended run. It would certainly not

be before dark, so when he left the inn on the following afternoon he

timed his departure so as to arrive near Luscombe just after darkness

had fallen. The distance was nearly twenty miles across country. He

drove some ten miles directly toward Luscombe, then struck inland for

another seven miles, alighted at a cottage recommended by the

riding-officer, and left the gig in charge of the owner, a trusty man,

saying that he would meet him at the same place at daybreak next

morning.

From the cottage to Luscombe the distance was about five miles. He knew

the lay of the land, and, following unfrequented paths, came to the edge

of Congleton's Hollow in about an hour and a half. Skirting this

cautiously, he made his way along the edge of the stream that had formed

the chine he now knew as Sandy Cove.

It was a good mile to the sea. Every now and then he stopped and

listened, to make sure that he was not being followed; hereabouts he had

come unexpectedly upon Gudgeon and De Fronsac. As he came near

Gudgeon's farm he went with redoubled caution. He heard a sand-piper

whistling; a few gulls screeched above his head; save for these there

was silence.

He remembered having noticed, in the course of his rambles with Arthur,

a large evergreen bush growing on a shelf of rock some distance above

the bed of the stream. That seemed to him the very place at which to

post himself, for while he could get from it a good view of what was

happening on the shore only a few yards below, it was so thick, and so

situated in relation to its surroundings, that he would run little

danger there of being observed.

With some difficulty he clambered up to the bush. Looking round to make

sure that he was not espied, he forced his way into it, and waited. The

time passed slowly. It was a black March evening, with a nipping wind,

and in spite of his cloak Jack felt bitterly cold. Hour after hour

drawled away, and there had been no sound. He wondered whether the run

had been abandoned. Or had he, after all, made a mistake?

At last, when, feeling numbed and depressed, he had almost resolved to

leave the spot, he heard voices from just above--on the zigzag path from

Gudgeon's farm to the sea.

"Send round the word; she'll be in in ten minutes. There's no

preventives on the prowl, or we'd have heard afore now from Totley Point

or Laxted Cove. Aha! Goodman and his joes have never yet got past

Peter Bunce and Jan Derriman. Bill, a' believe I've got some o' they

pellets in my calf yet."

"More fool 'ee for meddling wi' old Joe."

One of the men hurried down the path, while the other returned to the

top of the cliff. Listening intently, Jack heard the man's footsteps

sounding ever more faintly as they receded in the direction of the

village.

He was right, then! This was Sandy Cove, and here the run was to be

made. He felt impatient for the work to begin. The sky was very dark,

there was no moon--smugglers avoided moonlit nights--but the air was so

clear that he hoped to see well enough for his purpose.

Ah! there were dark figures moving quietly about the beach below. The

men had taken off their boots, it appeared, and there--yes! It was the

black shape of a vessel slowly approaching the shore. The sails were

run down with scarce a sound; the lugger hove to within a few yards of

the cove; then, on a gangway invisible to Jack, the smugglers went to

and fro, those coming shoreward bent under heavy burdens.

Jack watched eagerly. The carriers brought their loads up the chine,

and disappeared along the same path that he himself had followed a few

hours before. It seemed but a few minutes; then he heard a voice say

"That's the last;" the lugger stood out to sea, and Sandy Cove was as

quiet as though nothing had happened.

Slipping out of his hiding-place, Jack very cautiously followed the last

man, who carried no load and seemed to be in some authority over the

rest. Jack could never venture near enough to see his features, nor

even to get a complete view of his form. He tracked him to Congleton's

Hollow, and there was compelled to pause and dodge some of the carriers

who, having finished their work, were making their way homeward across

the fields. Waiting a little while until all seemed safe, he crept

across the Hollow to the summer-house where he had found the iron steps.

It was from this that the carriers had come. Clearly the smuggled goods

had been deposited there. He searched as thoroughly as he could in the

darkness, but could find no trace of them.

"'Tis a job for daylight," he said to himself. "Now for my tramp back."

He was dead tired when he reached the cottage where he had left his gig.

The cottager awoke at his knock, put the horse in, and drove him at once

to Middleton, where he slept heavily for three or four hours before Mr.

Goodman arrived in the morning.

"Well, Mr. Hardy, I hope you spotted the rascals as we arranged."

"I saw the run," replied Jack, with an inward chuckle at the

riding-officer's "we," "and a precious cold night it was. They've

hidden the stuff somewhere in old Congleton's summer-house."

"Have they indeed? I'll seize it at once."

"No, no, Mr. Goodman, don't be in a hurry. You might send a few of your

men to Luscombe, telling them nothing, of course. If they're seen about

there for a day or two it will prevent the smugglers from removing their

stuff until it is too late. And if you don't mind, send a messenger to

Waddon for me, and tell Babbage to remain where he is till further

orders."

"I will, Mr. Hardy. By George! I hope Admiral Horniman will be pleased

with the way we are carrying out his plans."

Jack smiled as the riding-officer took his leave,--Mr. Goodman knew only

half the plan; Admiral Horniman none of it.

The most important part of Jack's task was still before him. He had

determined to be in the turret room of Congleton's Folly on Wednesday

evening; how was he to get there? The removable steps were no doubt

being used by the signaler; but it was not likely that they were still

hidden in the same place. De Fronsac, of course, would believe Jack to

be safe in a French prison; but the last hiding-place having been so

easily discovered, he would certainly choose a new one. Yet, if the

tower was to be entered, steps of some kind must be had.

Jack spent a quiet Sunday, and early on Monday morning drove a few miles

inland to another village, where he entered the smithy and asked the

smith if he could make him quickly a dozen iron loops with a tail to

them.

"Well, maybe I might," said the smith, "if you showed me the pattern."

"Here you are," replied Jack, drawing a rough sketch of the article he

wanted with a piece of charcoal on the side of the forge.

"And what might that be for, measter?" the smith inquired. "A cur'ous

looking objeck."

"Yes, isn't it? 'Tis for a game I'm going to play--quite a new thing in

these parts."

"Well, to be sure! And how thick do 'ee want 'em?"

Jack could only guess the dimensions. He tried to recall the size of

the holes in the wall of the _Folly_, and gave the smith a thickness

which he hoped would turn out within the mark. The steps were easily

made when the man had grasped the idea. Getting them wrapped up, Jack

drove back to Middleton, and thence to Waddon, where Babbage and the

crew of the _Fury_ were unfeignedly glad to see him once more.

"'Tis long waiting when you don't know, sir," said Babbage. "As brother

Sol used to say: 'Wait not, want not,' and true it is, though so plain."

During the rest of Monday and all Tuesday the _Fury_ cruised down

Channel, merely to kill time. The men wondered why their young

commander did not sail out to sea and do some scouting work, if nothing

else, but Jack did not wish to run any risks; besides, he was busily

occupied in drawing up a message in the cipher used by the signaler at

the Folly.

On Wednesday morning the _Fury_ put in once more at Waddon, and Jack

left again. These mysterious absences were somewhat trying to Babbage's

equanimity.

"But there," he said, talking the matter over with Turley, "to gentlemen

of eddication, I s'pose, our heads--yourn an' mine, Turley--be only like

so many turnips."

"Mr. Babbage?" Turley's tone was one of surprise and remonstrance.

"Wot?"

"Not Turnips."

"Why not?"

"Why, sir, 'cos they have Tops."

"Not when they're mashed, Turley, wi' butter, or dripping for

cheapness."

*CHAPTER XVII*

*DIAMOND CUT DIAMOND*

Unconscious of the bo'sun's melancholy reflections, Jack was hurrying

toward the village. There he again hired the gig, and drove once more

over the same road, leaving Middleton so as to reach the neighborhood of

Luscombe about dusk. With him he took the iron steps.

He made his way with great caution to Gumley's cottage. This time he

did not hail the old sailor from the roadway, but got over the fence and

tapped at the window. When he was admitted, he announced without

preliminary the object of his visit.

"I want you to come and lend a hand, Gumley."

"Might I axe how and wherefore, sir?"

"I'll tell you that as we go along."

"'Tis not to go back on old messmates, sir?"

"Your old messmates have gone back on you. But 'tis not that, and,

anyway, I call upon you, Joe Gumley, in the king's name--"

"Oh, if you put it like that, sir, I don't axe no questions. The king's

name is enough for me."

"I know it. Come along, and bring Comely with you."

The three set out, Gumley curiously eying Jack's bundle.

"We're bound for Congleton's Hollow, Gumley."

"Ay, ay, sir."

"Any news since I saw you last?"

"Nary much, sir. Young Bill Gudgeon haven't bin seen since. And the

preventives have bin paying surprise visits down in the village."

"That's well. The smugglers won't have dared to remove their cargo."

"Ah! I knowed as how they'd made another run."

"How did you know that? You keep yourself to yourself, you know."

"True, sir. But old Gudgeon's chimbleys do be uncommon foul, to be

sure."

"What's that to do with it?"

"Why, sir, I were thinking that's the only thing I've seed to-day. But

he'll soon be leaving off fires. Be you gwine to the Hollow by the

lane, sir?"

"Yes. 'Tis a little longer way round, but I don't want to meet

anybody."

"True, sir. Comely will give us good notice if any one is about."

They came at length to the Hollow. Jack led the way through the trees

to within a hundred yards of the tower, and searched the neighborhood

thoroughly to make sure that no one was on the watch.

"Now, Gumley, I'm going up to the room at the top. Not through the

door, but up the outside with the help of these steps." He opened his

bundle. "See, they fit into holes in the wall. Are you sailor enough

still to come up after me and bring down the steps when I've got to the

top?"

"Try me, sir. True, I've only one leg, but that's sound; and my

arms--look at 'em, sir."

"That's all right. When you've got the steps, hide in the bushes with

Comely until you hear me whistle. Then you'll come and take charge of a

man I think you'll find here."

"Ay, ay, sir."

Jack mounted, Gumley after him. The latter removed the steps and

disappeared into the thicket, while Jack closed the trap-door, and sat

on the rickety chair, waiting.

Hours passed. It was very cold. Jack knew that De Fronsac would not

leave the Grange until the family were asleep; he could only wait,

wrapped up in his cloak, walking about quietly at intervals to keep

himself awake.

At last he heard a slight click outside. Instantly he concealed himself

in the hole behind the bedstead, leading to the staircase. To insure

the full success of his plan it was necessary that the signaler should

make his preparations undisturbed.

He heard some one enter the room by the trap-door, and immediately

afterward saw a gleam of light. Peeping out, he recognized with a

thrill that the intruder was De Fronsac, as he had expected, and that he

was alone. He had lit the lamp, the glass of which was turned away from

the window; the long roll of cardboard and a pistol lay beside it. Then

he went to the window and looked out to sea. He was evidently waiting

for a signal from the lugger.

"_Peste!_" he muttered, slapping his shoulders. "_Comme il fait froid!

Il est en retard. Quand viendra-t-il?_"

Pistol in hand, Jack stepped quietly out of his hiding-place. De

Fronsac started, swung round, and stared with amazement, for there, in

the light of the lamp, stood the boy he had kidnapped, and a pistol was

pointed full at his head.

"Yes, Monsieur de Fronsac, it is I. Stay where you are; if you make a

movement I shall fire."

[Illustration: "If you make a movement, I shall fire"]

The statement was so cool and matter-of-fact that it appeared to carry

conviction, for De Fronsac arrested his first instinctive movement

toward his own pistol. Still covering him with his weapon, Jack

advanced to the table, turned the lamp so that the light fell on the

Frenchman, and lifted the pistol. De Fronsac said not a word. There

was no smile upon his face now, but his eyes gleamed, and Jack knew that

he was watching for the slightest opening. De Fronsac felt the rope for

a spy tightening relentlessly round his neck.

He glanced toward the lamp, within a few feet of him.

"No, Monsieur De Fronsac," said Jack, guessing his wish to knock it

over: "it really is not possible. You would not live to reach the

table. You will now go through the trap-door and descend the steps, as

quickly and quietly as you can."

The man hesitated; Jack saw his fingers work nervously.

"I shall count three, Monsieur. At the word _three_ I fire. One--"

De Fronsac moved sidewise toward the trap-door. At the opening he again

paused, and appeared to be about to speak. But Jack gave him no

opportunity.

"Again, Monsieur: one--two--"

De Fronsac pulled up the trap, and slowly lowered himself on to the

topmost step.

"Remember, Monsieur," said Jack, before his head disappeared, "if you

make the least unnecessary sound I shall send a bullet after you."

The gleaming eyes disappeared. Step by step the Frenchman descended.

When he was a third of the way down Jack whistled gently. By the time

De Fronsac reached the ground Gumley and Comely were one on each side of

him.

"Evening, sir," said Gumley. "Orders are that you come along wi'

me--and the dog. Watch him, Comely."

A deep growl caused De Fronsac to start.

"Harmless as a lamb, sir, while you goes steady. Bean't 'ee, Comely?"

The answer was another growl. They moved away, the dog keeping a few

inches behind De Fronsac's heels, Gumley with a naked cutlass walking at

his right hand.

Even before they were out of sight Jack had returned to the table.

There he had noticed a sheet of paper. It was covered with figures--no

doubt the message that De Fronsac was preparing to send.

"Wonder if there's time to make it out!" thought Jack. He looked out to

sea; there was no signal light. With the aid of his key he scribbled

below the figures the corresponding letters, and read:

NELSON A SUIVRE VILLENEUVE 9 NAVIRE 2 FREGATE SORTENT DE P MERCREDI

BINSEY COVE LUNDI.

"A clever villain!" thought Jack. "Who would ever have imagined that a

French spy would be mixed up with English smugglers! And I wonder how he

gets his information about Nelson's doings, and the sailings of English

convoys? Well, his friends will have rather a different message

to-night."

He took from his pocket a piece of paper, and made some alterations in

the figures he had written in the cabin of the _Fury_.

"If they like news of Nelson, they shall have some, invented on the

spot!"

Every now and then while writing he glanced out to sea to make sure that

he did not miss the expected signal. It was nearly an hour after he had

completed his message that he caught the three successive flashes. Then

he fixed the cardboard, pointed it through the round hole in the

curtain, and signaled:

NELSON MOURANT A PALERMO NAVIRE BRISE PLAGE FOWEY CONVOI PETITE CHALOUPE

BINSEY COVE LUNDI.

The message completed, he extinguished the light and descended, removing

the steps as he went. The other set had apparently been taken by

Gumley. Wrapping up the original dozen he started for his long walk

back.

He had not gone many paces when he heard hurried footsteps behind.

Turning round with a start, his hand on his pistol, he was amazed to

hear his name called.

"Jack!"

The next instant a slight figure sprang toward him.

"Oh, Jack! I'm jolly glad, I am! I thought it was you, but couldn't be

sure till you came down. Oh, I _am_ glad!"

"Well, don't make a to-do, youngster. And what brings you out at this

time of night?"

"Why, didn't you tell me months ago to keep an eye on Fronsac? Well,

I've done it. I've followed him several nights--not often, 'cos mostly

I'm sleepy; but I've never caught him. He always disappeared, and I

never knew where he went till to-night. And I shouldn't have known now

if I hadn't seen him climb down the Folly and go off with old Gumley.

Oh, it was fine! My eye! wasn't he scared at the dog! But what's it all

mean, Jack? I say, you'll come along home, won't you? They'll all be

so jolly glad to see you."

"Not to-night, Arthur. I hope I shall come to see you all in a day or

two. But not a soul in the village must know yet that I'm back, and the

maids couldn't keep it in. Tell your father I'm here; and tell him that

De Fronsac is a dangerous spy. We've got him safe now, but they mustn't

suspect in the village. If any questions are asked you can say that he

has gone away for a few days, and will be back on Monday night."

"Oh, I say, will they hang him?"

"Of course. Now cut and run; you'll catch your death of cold, and the

squire will want to hang me."

"Not he. He likes you. So does--"

"Cut!" said Jack, putting an end to Arthur's confidences. The boy

disappeared; Jack resumed his walk, and arrived dead tired at the inn at

Middleton.

*CHAPTER XVIII*

*THE BATTLE OF BINSEY COVE*

"Ah! Patience is a monument, as brother Sol used to say. Tombstone I'd

call it, 'cos this here waiting about in the cold'll be the death o'

me."

"True, Mr. Babbage. It bean't Christian, let alone decent, to keep us

poor fellers waiting here."

"Avast your jabber, Mudge. It bean't for the likes of you to grumble

when 'tis a matter o' dooty, and love your neighbor as yourself. 'Tis a

wonderful fine night, coldish, nat'ral for the time o' year. Mr. Hardy

didn't make the weather, lads."

Ben Babbage, with a boat's crew from the _Fury_, lay off Totley Point,

about a mile and a half west of Luscombe. It was about ten at night.

They had been for two hours resting on their oars. A steady breeze blew

from the west-sou'west, and a slight swell rocked the boat gently. Save

for an occasional pull to keep her head to the wind the men had nothing

to do except wait and watch; and Babbage, however he might grumble

himself, was the last to permit grumbling in others.

But it was certainly a tax on their patience to wait hour after hour for

a lugger which was slow to appear. Everybody was tired of inaction, and

hoping for a signal of recall, when a shape loomed out of the blackness,

passed on the starboard side of the boat, about two cable lengths away,

and disappeared shoreward.

Babbage lifted a dark lantern from the bottom of the boat; Turley and

Mudge stretched a sheet of tarpaulin between him and the shore. Then

Babbage, facing out to sea, and keeping the lantern at such an elevation

that its light should not fall on the water, rapidly opened and closed

the shutter, sending one flash to windward.

"Things is a-going to happen, mates," he said, as he replaced the

lantern. "The owdacious moment is at hand, as brother Sol used to say."

Again they waited, but now with keen expectation. In ten minutes, which

seemed hours, a dark shape appeared in the offing. Babbage making a

bell of his hands, sent a low whistle across the water; an order was

given on the approaching vessel; the steersman put up the helm, and in a

few seconds the other was alongside.

"All well, Babbage?" said Jack, in a low tone.

"Ay, ay, sir."

A rope was thrown from the cutter and made fast in the bows of the boat.

Another brief command; the steersman put the helm down, and the cutter,

with the boat in tow, followed in the wake of the lugger. At nightfall

she had crept in to within two miles of the shore, and sending out the

long-boat as a scout, had hove to, lest her mast should betray her.

In ten minutes the cliffs were dimly visible, and Jack recognized the

jagged gap at the top that served as a landmark in steering for the

cove. The cutter headed straight for the gap. There was a shout from

far up the cliff; the _Fury_ had been sighted by the lookout. His call

was answered by cries from the beach. On the cutter all the men lay

ready with musketoon, pistol, and cutlass, except the few who had been

told off to run down the sail when the word was given, and make the

cutter fast to the lugger when she came alongside.

Jack's heart beat more quickly than usual; he felt excited, and anxious,

too, for he knew that the whole crew of the lugger, probably quite as

strong as his own, would be ready to repel boarders. If they were

joined by the Luscombe men who were receiving the smuggled goods he

would be greatly outnumbered. Everything depended on the handling of

the men, and knowing how desperately smugglers fought when brought to

bay, Jack felt the seriousness of the position. What would the issue be?

While the boat's crew had been waiting in the cold, strange things had

been happening at Gumley's cottage.

Gumley's method of guarding De Fronsac was to make a temporary kennel

for the dog outside the window of the front room in which the prisoner

was lodged, and a shakedown for himself by the door. He felt that he

could not properly intrude upon De Fronsac, who was a person of quality.

But he looked in at intervals to see that he was safe, on these

occasions calling Comely into the room, to guard against any attempted

surprise.

De Fronsac had recovered the use of his tongue after he reached the

cottage.

"I protest, I say it is a scandal, an infamy, to shut me up as if I vere

a t'ief. Vat right have you? Tell me dat--you--you--"

"Gumley, my name, sir. I've got my orders--in the king's name."

"Vell, I vill complain to de squire; I vill make to punish

you--you--Gomley!"

"Orders is orders, sir. I can't say no more."

Gumley himself was somewhat anxious about his charge, for, not expecting

such a drain on his larder, he had only his usual provisions for the

week, and did not feel at liberty to leave the cottage and procure more.

Thursday passed, Friday, Saturday, and still he had heard nothing from

Jack. When Sunday came, there was only a half loaf of bread and a rind

of cheese left, and these had to be shared among the two men and the

dog.

On the second day De Fronsac began to beguile the tedium of confinement

by writing poetry. When Gumley looked in at him on one of his

periodical visits the Frenchman said:

"You have not a bad heart. You obey orders of--of--of a monstair.

Vell, I read you vat I have now written about anoder Monstair--de great

villain Monstair vat call himself Emperor of de French! Listen! You

vill like it.

"'_De sky vas blue, de sea vas green,_

_All beautiful for to be seen._

_Vy den am I not gay and glad?_

_Alas! de Monstair make me sad._'

"Dat is good beginning, hein?"

"Reyther on the miserable side, don't 'ee think, sir? For myself, I

like a rum-tum-tiddlum rollicum-rorum sort o' thing."

"Ver' vell, I write you someting of dat kind."

Gumley heard nothing more of this generous offer until Monday evening.

Then, when he went into De Fronsac's room to explain with apologies that

he had no more food, the Frenchman said:

"No matter not at all. Vizout doubt some vun vill come to-morrow. Be

so good as give me a candle. I vish to write de poesy I speak of."

Gumley saw no reason for not humoring so harmless a hobby, and brought

the lighted candle. But a couple of hours later he was awakened from

his sleep at the locked door by a smell of burning. He soon satisfied

himself that it came from the prisoner's room, and opened the door.

"Ha! I see you!" said De Fronsac. "I am almost burnt alive. I am

writing my poesy ven--_voila!_ de candle overfalls and burns a hole in

de table-carpet. See it! I put out de fire, easy; but it make much

smoke. I fear it vake you; pardon, my good Gomley."

"Granted, sir, ready. If I was you I'd go to sleep now and do your

writing stuff in the morning."

"So I vill," was the response. "Pardon! I vill not vake you again."

Gumley returned to his shakedown and was soon fast asleep.

Nearly two hours later he was wakened by a growl from the dog outside.

He got up, opened the outer door, and found Comely trying to get up to

the shuttered window of De Fronsac's room.

"Don't like his poetry any more than me, don't 'ee? Come in. We'll

tell him 'tis time he was abed."

He closed the door when the dog had entered, and together they went into

the prisoner's room. There was still a good deal of smoke in it--but no

Frenchman.

"Ahoy!" cried Gumley.

But the dog made a dash back to the front door, and, when Gumley

followed and opened it, rushed growling down the garden, where he was

brought up by the high fence. Seizing his cutlass, Gumley stumped as

fast as he could to the gate.

"Chok' it all!" he muttered. "This is what comes o' losing a leg in the

king's name."

It took some little time to draw the bolts and unlock the gate, and when

the old sailor got out into the road the fugitive was out of sight. But

Gumley thought he heard a man running down the cliff path to the

village. Without hesitation he started in pursuit, whistling Comely to

his side. Never had that wooden leg moved so fast; but with all his

exertion his pace did not exceed that of a quick walk. He was half-way

down the path when he heard shots in the distance. Hurrying still more,

he came to the village just in time to see a group of men rushing out at

the other end, and caught the words "Sandy Cove!"

"Fire and brimstone!" he muttered. "This is a desperate go, Comely.

Come on, my lad."

And he stumped on gamely through the deserted street.

Meanwhile there had been brisk doings at Sandy Cove. When Jack judged

that he was only a couple of cable-lengths from the lugger, he cast off

the long-boat with Babbage and his men. They, resting on their oars,

allowed it to drift slowly in while the cutter disappeared into the

darkness.

A few moments later Jack gave the word. The sail was run down. A round

shot from the lugger whistled across the _Fury's_ bows. Another few

seconds; then, amid furious shouts, the cutter came against the larboard

quarter of the lugger with a bump that caused the men on both craft to

stagger. The _Fury's_ bowsprit fouled the lugger's shrouds and hooked

fast. Instantly half a dozen grapnels were out, and the two vessels

were closely interlocked.

There was a deafening discharge of small arms from the deck of the

lugger, but as most of the _Fury's_ men were lying down awaiting the

order to board, and the volley was fired at random in almost total

darkness, hardly any damage was done. But the master of the lugger was

clearly a man of action, for the echo of the shots had scarcely come

back from the cliffs when he gave a loud order in French, and the

smugglers swarmed over the bulwarks, intending to jump on to the deck of

the cutter a foot or two below.

"Fire!"

The word rang out sharp and clear above the shouts of the Frenchmen.

Their dark forms stood out clearly against the starlight; they were only

a few feet from the muzzles of the Englishmen's muskets; and when at

Jack's command the volley flashed, the front line of the smugglers

disappeared as if struck by a thunderbolt.

With a loud cheer the English sailors, dropping their muskets, seized

cutlass and pistol and dashed through the smoke, each man eager to be

first on the enemy's deck. They needed no encouragement; most of them

had a score to pay off for their defeat at the same spot in the previous

autumn. While the Frenchmen were still half stunned by the scorching

fire and the loss of so many of their comrades, Jack's men gained a

footing on the deck.

But now the French skipper's voice could be heard rallying his crew, and

the boarders were met by a serried mass armed with pistols and boarding

pikes. And among the Frenchmen there was now a sprinkling of

Englishmen, for the smugglers on shore had rushed over the gangway to

their comrades thus hotly beset. Now a furious hand-to-hand fight raged

about the lugger's stern. Great was the clamor as steel clashed on

steel, pistols barked, hoarse voices roared encouragement or defiance,

wounded men groaned. Again and again Jack and his men were flung back by

sheer weight of numbers against the lugger's bulwarks; again and again

they rallied and forced the enemy across the deck. No room here for

fine weapon-play; men cut and thrust at random, met, grappled, flung

away cutlass and pike to set to with nature's own weapons. Many a

Frenchman fell under the sledge-hammer blows of British sailors' fists.

Jack had no clear recollection afterward of the details of the fight.

At one moment he found himself leading a rush of his own men, pressing

the enemy back foot by foot until only a last desperate effort seemed

wanting to drive them overboard. Then would come a check; a hoarse

shout from the skipper, whom Jack by and by distinguished in the

melee--a huge fellow of reckless courage; the tide turned, the smugglers

rallied gamely, and Jack and his men, stubbornly as they fought, were

borne back and back, losing inch by inch the ground they had so hardly

gained.

It was at one of these desperate moments that Jack heard at last the

sound for which, throughout the struggle, he had been anxiously waiting.

From the forefront of the lugger came a sudden rousing British cheer.

There was a rush of feet in the rear of the smugglers, and in a second,

as it seemed to Jack, the deck in front of him was clear. Ben Babbage

had arrived. Carrying out orders given him previously, he had brought

the long-boat unseen to the starboard side of the lugger, and, before

the Frenchmen were aware of his presence, he was on deck, with Turley,

Mudge, Folkard, and half a dozen other trusty shipmates.

Beset now in both front and rear, the Frenchmen lost heart. Suddenly

they made a rush for the gangway connecting the lugger with the land,

and swarmed helter-skelter across, not a few stumbling over the edge and

falling souse into the water.

"Huzzay! huzzay!" shouted the panting Englishmen, as they saw the enemy

in flight.

But they were answered by a loud and confident cheer from the beach, and

in the momentary silence that ensued they heard the rapid tramp of a

large body of men hurrying over the shingle. Immediately afterward they

saw the fugitives halt, and rush back, largely reinforced, to the

gangway, led by the indomitable captain. On they came, tumbling into the

water three or four of the Englishmen who had started in pursuit and

were making for the shore.

The gangway, consisting of four stout planks laid side by side, was

wide, and gave foothold for a throng at once. Jack and Babbage

collected their men at the lugger's bulwarks to meet this new attack.

And the former, amazed at this sudden turning of the tables, was still

more amazed to see beside the French skipper the slighter form of

Monsieur de Fronsac. Even at the moment of recognition De Fronsac's

pistol flashed; the bullet glanced off Jack's cutlass within an inch of

his body, and embedded itself in the mast behind him.

The two forces came together with a shock. Babbage dropped his cutlass

and flung his powerful arms around the skipper. They swayed for a

moment, then fell together with a tremendous splash into the water. De

Fronsac had dropped his pistol, and made for Jack with a cutlass. Jack

parried his furious cut, and before he could recover replied with a

rapid and dexterous thrust that found the Frenchman's forearm. With

wonderful quickness De Fronsac shifted his weapon from the right to the

left hand, and, shouting encouragement to the men beside and behind him,

pressed forward indomitably.

At the same moment there was a rush of feet from the bows of the lugger.

Her bowsprit came within easy reach of the rocky ledge, and a number of

the smugglers had sprung on to it, scrambled along, and flung themselves

on the flank of the defenders. Turley and others at Jack's right turned

to meet this new danger; but the enemy had gained a firm foothold on the

foredeck, and the fight once more became general.

Jack, fighting grimly with Mudge and Folkard at the head of the gangway,

felt with a dreadful sinking at the heart that the tide of battle was

turning overwhelmingly against him. It seemed only too likely that he

must either take to the cutter and escape, or remain to be killed or

captured. But at this moment there was a sudden uproar at the far end

of the gangway; the cries he heard were unmistakably cries of dismay.

The throng of men pressing from the shore to the lugger wavered; their

rear was being attacked; the preventives must be upon them! So sudden

and unexpected was the onslaught that they lost their heads; their

confidence changed to panic, and as one man they made off, springing

into the shallow water to right and left, and scurrying away into the

darkness.

"Have at 'em, Comely! Have at 'em, my lad!"

The words rang clear above all the din; and ever and anon came a short

yelping bark--the unmistakable war-cry of a bulldog. Jack felt a

wonderful lightness of heart as the sounds came to him out of the dark.

Then the press in front of him melted as by magic, and through the gap

so quickly made stumped Gumley, wielding his cutlass like a flail, and

shouting with the regularity of a minute-gun:

"Have at 'em, Comely! Have at 'em, my lad!"

Two men remained on the gangway, refusing to be intimidated by the

tumult in their rear; nay more, adjuring the fugitives to stand fast.

One was Monsieur de Fronsac, the other Kit Lamiger, the chief Luscombe

smuggler, father of the lad whom Jack had fought.

The uproar, the flight, the appearance of Gumley and the dog, all

happened in such rapid succession and amid such a clamor that to Jack

the events seemed to take place in one crowded moment. As the last of

the panic-stricken smugglers jumped sidewise from the gangway on to the

rocks, De Fronsac, hearing Gumley's voice behind him, took a rapid step

forward in a last desperate endeavor to dispose of Jack. But the middy

marked his purpose. There was no time for deliberation. The Frenchman,

wielding his cutlass as well with his left hand as with his right, made

a fierce cut at Jack. The next moment he threw up his arms without a

sound and fell backward across the gangway into the space between the

lugger and the rocks. Jack's blade had pierced him through.

Meanwhile Kit Lamiger had found himself seized below in the vise-like

grip of Comely's jaws. Struggling to free himself, he fell into the

arms of Gumley, who, with a cry of "In the king's name, shipmate!" swung

him round, threw him on to the shingle, and bade the bulldog watch him.

The fight was over.

"Ahoy, Gumley! Come aboard!" shouted Jack.

Gumley stumped across the gangway, and this was drawn on to the lugger's

deck. Jack intended to work the vessels out for a little distance until

there was no chance of being attacked except by boats, for he knew that

he was still outnumbered. But just as he was preparing to cast off

there came a loud hail from the beach, and immediately afterward Mr.

Goodman rushed up at the head of a force of preventive men.

"Just in time, Mr. Hardy!" panted he.

"A little late, Mr. Goodman," replied Jack. "I expected you some time

ago. The fight is over."

"Dash my buttons!" cried the mortified officer. "'Tis my confounded

ill-luck. I should have been here, but I got another note a few hours

ago that I had to attend to."

"Anonymous, Mr. Goodman?"

"Yes, anonymous as usual, hang it all! I came up when I heard the

firing. I see you've got the lugger, sir. Our scheme worked out to the

letter."

"To the anonymous note, eh, Mr. Goodman? Well, we've good news for the

admiral to-morrow. And as you've a good number of your men here, I'll go

ashore and step up to the Grange. I want to see my cousin. Turley,

where's Babbage?"

"Never seed him, sir, since he went overboard with the French skipper."

"Well, I must leave you in charge, then. The poor fellow's drowned, I

fear."

"No, sir," shouted a voice from the beach.

"Who's that?"

"Me, sir, Babbage as was."

"All sound?"

"And fury, as brother Sol used to say. Me and the French skipper fell

overboard together, me on top. He drownded hisself, sir, 'cos he

wouldn't let go. When I come up, some o' they fellers bowled me over

like a ninepin, and my senses was fair knocked out o' me. Next thing I

knowed I heard you a-saying I were drownded, sir. Not so, nor never

even seasick."

"Well, I'm glad you're safe. Come aboard. We'll see what damage is done

here, and then I'll go ashore, and we'll get a doctor from Wickham

Ferrers to attend to the poor fellows who are wounded."

*CHAPTER XIX*

*SOME APPOINTMENTS*

Jack had but just reached the road above the cliff when he was somewhat

startled to hear the regular clickety-click of a large number of horses

trotting toward him. And surely, amid the clatter of their hoofs, there

was the clash of steel!

He stood at the edge of the road, waiting. In a few moments, round the

corner from the direction of Wickham, came two horsemen at a rapid trot,

and behind them a troop, whose polished accoutrements gleamed in the

light of the rising moon.

They rode on rapidly, and Jack had just recognized the uniform of the

Dorsetshire yeomanry when the officer at their head caught sight of him,

shouted "Halt!" and reined up his horse on its haunches.

"Where are they, my lad?" he asked in a tone of subdued excitement.

"Who, Cousin Humfrey?"

"Eh! Who are you? Why, bless me, 'tis Jack! Where are the ruffians?"

"Who, cousin?"

"Why, the French! Have they got a footing?"

"Most of 'em a wetting, cousin. But we've beat the whole crew and got

the lugger."

"The lugger! Hang the lugger! What about the praams?"

"The praams!" Jack was puzzled; then a light dawned on him and he began

to laugh.

"Come, come, 'tis no joke. Are they beaten back?"

"Oh, cousin, no joke! Did you really think it was Boney? Oh, I can't

help it; excuse me, cousin."

It came out that Mr. Bastable had been awakened by one of his men, who

declared that he heard cannons firing most horribly, and was sure 'twas

Boney had come over at last. The squire got up, sent a rider post-haste

to Wickham Ferrers for his troop of yeomen, and hurried into his

uniform, which he kept always at hand by his bedside.

"And here we are, my lad, in an hour from the first alarm. There's

quick work for you. But I'm glad 'tis no worse than a brush with

smugglers. 'Twas a false alarm, my lads," he added, turning to his men.

"Boney has thought better of it. Didn't care to tackle us Dorset men.

You can get back and sleep sound. Now Jack, you'll come with me to the

Grange. Arthur told me he'd seen you--the young rascal, stealing out at

dead of night! But a good plucked 'un too, eh, Jack?"

"A chip of the old block, cousin. Just the sort of fellow we middies

like."

"And that villain De Fronsac, now! What of him?"

"He's dead, cousin," said Jack gravely.

"Ha! He's got his deserts. The villain, playing his double game for

eighteen months in my house! And his humbug about the Monster, too. It

makes me red in the face when I think of it. But you must tell me all

about it when we get home."

They found the Grange almost in a state of siege. The windows were

close-shuttered, the doors were double locked, and when Mr. Bastable

rapped, the voice of old William, the gardener, was heard, threatening

in accents of unmistakable terror that he'd b-blow out the b-b-brains of

any Frenchman with his b-b-blunderbuss. When admittance was obtained,

shrieks were heard from the top of the house.

"The maids in hysterics!" growled the squire. "Here, Molly and Betty,"

he shouted, "don't be a couple of geese. 'Tis not Boney--'tis Master

Jack!"

A door above flew open; Kate and Arthur came bounding down the stairs,

with Mrs. Bastable a pace or two behind them.

"Lawk a mussy! Only to think o't, now!" giggled Molly above. "Measter

Jack! Well, I never did!"

Kate impulsively threw her arms round Jack's neck and kissed him

heartily. A middy is not easily taken by surprise, but Jack was only

just in time to return the kiss before Mrs. Bastable came and encircled

him.

"My dear boy, this is delightful."

"So it is, cousin--if it wasn't so smothery!"

"Mothery!" shouted the squire in high good humor. "Now, you'll come

along to my den and tell me all about everything that's happened since

you were kidnapped by those villains, confound them!"

"But my dear Humfrey, Jack looks dead-beat."

"We'll cure that by any by. The fire isn't out; we'll make it up; and

I'm sure you women won't sleep a wink till you've heard the story."

"Hurray!" shouted Arthur, capering.

So they trooped into the snuggery, and there Jack, fortified with a

glass of hot cordial brought by Molly, related his adventures from the

time when he was carried to France against his will.

"There are two things I can't make out," he said in conclusion. "One

is, how Gudgeon is mixed up in this. 'Twas his boat, I'm sure, that

carried me in the tub to the lugger; and he drove to Gumley's the other

night to hear what had been done. Where does he come in, cousin?"

Mr. Bastable laughed a little awkwardly.

"Go to bed, Arthur," he said.

"I know, father," said the boy, grinning.

"You do, do you, you young rascal! Well, Jack, I'll tell you. Gudgeon

is a sly old dog. He's the smuggler hereabouts--but behind the scenes.

His smoking chimney was the signal by day, as Fronsac's, it seems, was

by night. But he's not a traitor; he knew nothing of Fronsac's double

scheme, I warrant. He's a smuggler simply. Why, Jack, he has supplied

me with smuggled brandy for years; so he does the parson at Wickham.

The stuff you're drinking was smuggled; the lace your cousin Sylvia is

wearing came from Valenciennes, and paid no duty. I'm afraid I must

give it up now, my boy. There's not a squire on the seaboard but thinks

it no harm; but with a cousin a gallant king's officer--yes, I must give

it up." He sighed. "And I think I'd better go and see Gudgeon in the

morning."

"He'll be transported, as sure as a gun," said Jack.

"Well, I don't think we'll go that length. You can't prove anything

against him, you see. He's too sly for that--and--well, it might be

awkward for more than one of us."

"All right, cousin," said Jack, laughing. "But there's another thing.

That fellow who was wounded in the Hollow! De Fronsac shot him, I'm

sure; I never told you that Arthur and I saw him bundled into a lugger

that night we followed De Fronsac from the house."

"That's a mystery. I can't explain it. And it doesn't matter much, now

that De Fronsac is gone. By George, Jack! I fancy you've killed

smuggling at Luscombe--for some time, at any rate. Now to bed. We'll

have another talk in the morning."

Jack was up early, in spite of the lateness of the hour when he went to

bed. He was at breakfast alone with Mr. Bastable when Mr. Goodman was

announced.

"Good morning, sir. Good morning, Mr. Hardy. I've come to you as a

justice of the peace, Mr. Bastable. You've heard of our little exploit

last night?"

"You were in at the death, I believe. Well, sir?"

"Well, sir, we went to the Hollow this morning to seize the goods we

understood were hidden there. In the summer-house we found a man, sir;

I have him outside now. He tried to run away; but we collared him, and

as he wouldn't give an account of himself I've brought him along.

Perhaps you'll commit him as a rogue and vagabond."

"Bring him in, Mr. Goodman."

The riding-officer returned with a heavy, undersized, beetle-browed

fellow, in very tattered garb.

"Why, 'tis the very man!" cried Jack. "This is the man De Fronsac

shot."

"De Fronsac!" growled the man, with gleaming eyes. "Where is he?"

"No longer in this world, my man," said Mr. Bastable. "Now, who are

you? Give a good account of yourself, or I shall have to commit you."

The man showed no hesitation now. He explained that he had been

employed in London by a French family through whom De Fronsac obtained

much of the information he signaled to France. Having discovered this

fact, he had come down to Luscombe to levy blackmail on the spy; the

consequences were as Jack had related. He had returned to England--there

were means of coming and going between the two countries even in that

time of war--to wreak vengeance on De Fronsac, and was lying in wait at

the summer-house when the preventives appeared on the scene.

"There's your mystery unraveled," said Mr. Bastable, turning to Jack.

Then to the Frenchman he said: "We'll send you off to London, my man;

'tis for folk there to deal with you."

After breakfast, Jack walked over to Gumley's cottage. He wanted to

know how De Fronsac had escaped, and was prepared to read Gumley a

lecture for his lax guardianship. But he found the old sailor so

desperately upset at the trick played upon him, that he had not the

heart to add to his chagrin.

"Only to think of it, sir!" said Gumley, thumping the table. "Poetry!

All my eye and Betty Martin! Why, when he got that there candle, he

stood upon this here table"--another thump--"and burned away the ends o'

the matchboards up aloft where they was nailed to the beams. No wonder I

smelled smoke! And he showed me a hole in the tablecloth! Then he

pried up the boards, got up into the attic, out by the trap-door on to

the roof, and when Comely and me was a-nosing round here in the smoke,

chok' it all! Mounseer was down the rain-pipe and under full sail for

the road. Never have I bin so done afore, sir, and in the king's name,

too."

"Never mind, Joe. You came after him like a Briton, and if you and

Comely hadn't arrived on the scene when you did, I'm afraid there would

have been a different story to tell the admiral to-day. I'm going to

Portsmouth this afternoon. And I'll take care the admiral knows about

your pluck and your stanchness as a king's man under persecution."

"Thank 'ee kindly, sir. And you won't forget to say a word for Comely,

sir?"

"Not I. Comely and Gumley--a fine pair of warriors. Good-by."

When Jack got back to the Grange, he found that the squire had paid his

promised visit to Mr. Gudgeon. Mr. Bastable laughed as he related the

interview.

"He had the flutters very badly, Jack. I put it to him as delicately as

I could. Said that recent events had given the neighborhood a bad name,

especially as it had been found that some one had been selling

information to the French. Suspicion might easily fall on the wrong

person, I said; and I wound up by suggesting that when next winter comes

he should see that his chimneys are swept regularly. The old rascal!

'Oh dear me!' says he, 'to think that a quiet law-abiding village like

Luscombe should have harbored a French spy! It puts me in a terrible

flutter, Cognac is the best cure I know, sir; maybe you'll do me the

honor to take a sip with me?' and the rascal gave me a glass, Jack;

contraband--capital stuff!"

"He'll be careful in future, I reckon, cousin. I must run over to

Portsmouth after lunch and report to Admiral Horniman. I suppose I'd

better keep Gudgeon's name out?"

"Certainly, my lad. You've snuffed out smuggling here--for the present;

it is bound to begin again some day; but you may depend upon it that for

a long time to come we're all king's men here, Gudgeon included."

It was a fortnight before Jack returned to the Grange. Then he came in

a high state of excitement.

"Admiral Horniman is a jolly old brick!" he cried, after greeting his

cousins. "What do you think he's done?"

"Resigned in your favor, Jack?"

"Pretty nearly!" returned Jack with a laugh. "No, he's written up a

thumping report to the lords of the Admiralty, and got 'em to 'do a

thing that's as rare as--as--"

"As Jack Hardys. Well!"

"Why, to let me off three years' service as a mid, and also the

examination for lieutenant. Look here! here's my commission!" He

flourished a paper, and cried for three cheers for Admiral Horniman.

"And that's not all. I've got no end of prize-money for capturing the

French brig, and retaking the _Fury_, and collaring the smugglers'

stuff. My share alone comes to over a thousand pounds. And they've

taken two French privateers and sunk another off Fowey. The signals

worked splendidly; they were trying to cut out a disabled ship that

wasn't there! The admiral's going to put in a claim to prize-money for

me. He is a brick!"

"Oh, I say!" cried Arthur. "Don't I wish I was you!"

"I'm glad for dad's sake. He hasn't been over well off since he had to

retire from the East India Company's service, owing to that wretched

illness of his, and I'm afraid he had to pinch a bit for me. But now

that's all changed. I shan't cost him another penny piece."

"Bravo! Arthur, you young dog, remember that, and hand over a thousand

pounds to me when I'm bound for the poorhouse. Well, Jack, I

congratulate you, my boy."

"But that's not all, cousin. I've kept the best for the last. Open

your eyes! I'm appointed to the _Victory_, and sail to join Nelson in a

week! Won't we pepper the French! Won't we win a glorious victory! Oh!

cousin, isn't it the finest thing in the world to serve your king and

country!"

"If you please, sir," said the butler, putting his head in at the door,

"Joe Gumley is outside, asking for Mr. Hardy."

"Show him in," cried Mr. Bastable.

"Arternoon, sir," said Gumley, stumping in with the bulldog at his

heels. He held his glazed hat clumsily, and looked not quite at ease.

"I be come over for two things, Squire; number one, to say thank'ee to

Mr. Hardy; number two, to axe a question."

"Never mind about number one, Gumley," said Jack. "Heave away at number

two."

"Begging your pardon, sir, one always comes afore two, and ye can't

alter nature. I take it kindly, sir, and I thank 'ee from the bottom of

my heart, for your goodness to a' old mariner what has only one leg

sound and rheumatiz in both. Here I've got, sir, a paper, and as near

as I can make it out--'tis terrible writing for a admiral, to be

sure--Admiral Horniman says he has great pleasure in app'inting Joseph

Gumley watchman at the dockyard, ten shillings a week, cottage and rum

free. I know who done that: Admiral Horniman would never ha' heard o'

Joe Gumley but for Mr. Hardy. God bless 'ee, sir, for remembering of a

poor wooden-legged old sailor what had to take to growing artichokes and

other landlubbers' thingummies in the king's name."

"The admiral couldn't have found a better man," said Mr. Bastable, to

cover Jack's confusion. "But what's number two?"

"Number two is this, sir. Do this here app'intment take in Comely?

'Cos if it don't with all respecks to Mr. Hardy and the admiral, I

sticks to artichokes. Comely and Gumley--they sign on together."

"And nobody wants to split you, Gumley," said Jack. "Go and see the

admiral, and take Comely with you--only hold him in, because the

admiral's rather peppery, and Comely might made a mistake. He will know

that with Comely and Gumley to watch it, the dockyard will be as safe as

the rock of Gibraltar."

"Ay, ay, sir. Then we takes on that there app'intment. Comely and

me--in the king's name."