"Sir Henry!" ejaculated Hilary Leigh; and for the moment his heart
seemed to stand still, for his duties as a king's officer had brought
him face to face with a dear old friend, at whose house he had passed
some of his happiest days, and he knew that the disguised figure the
Jacobite gentleman sought to hide was his only daughter, Adela, Hilary's
old playmate and friend, but so grown and changed that he hardly
recognised her in the momentary glance he had of her fair young face.
"Hush! silence! Are you mad?" was the reply, in tones that set the
young man's heart beating furiously, for he knew that Sir Henry Norland
was proscribed for the part he had take in the attempt of the Young
Pretender, and Leigh had thought that he was in France.
"Who are they, Mr Leigh?" said the lieutenants striding over the lumber
in the bottom of the boat.
"Seems to be an English gentleman, sir," said Leigh, in answer to an
agonised appeal from Sir Henry's eyes.
"I am an English gentleman, sir, and this is my daughter. She is very
ill."
"Of course she is," cried the lieutenant testily. "Women are sure to be
sick if you bring them to sea. But look here, my good fellow, English
gentleman or no English gentleman, you can't deceive me. Now then, what
have you got on board?"
"Fish, I believe," said Sir Henry.
"Yes, of course," sneered the lieutenant; "and brandy, and silk, and
velvet, and lace. Now then, skipper, you are caught this time. But
look here, you scoundrel, what do you mean by pretending to be a
Frenchman?"
"Frenchman? Frenchman?" said the skipper with a look of extreme
stupidity. "You said I was a Dutchman."
"You lie, you scoundrel. Here, come forward and move that sail and
those nets. Now no nonsense; set your fellows to work."
He clapped his hand sharply on the skipper's shoulder, and turned him
round, following him forward.
"Take a man, Mr Leigh, and search that dog-hole."
Hilary Leigh was astounded, for knowing what he did he expected that the
lieutenant would have instantly divined what seemed patent to him--that
Sir Henry Norland was trying, for some reason or another, to get back to
England, and that although the lugger was commanded by an Englishman,
she was undoubtedly a French _chasse maree_ from Saint Malo.
But the lieutenant had got it into his head that he had overhauled a
smuggling vessel laden with what would turn into prize-money for himself
and men, and the thought that she might be bound on a political errand
did not cross his mind.
"I'll search fully," said Leigh; and bidding the sailor with the long
pigtail stay where he was, the young officer bent down and crept in
under the half-deck just as the fainting girl recovered.
As she caught sight of Hilary she made a snatch at his hand, and in a
choking voice exclaimed:
"Oh, Hilary! don't you know me again? Pray, pray save my poor father.
Oh, you will not give him up?"
The young man's heart seemed to stand still as the dilemma in which he
was placed forced itself upon him. He was in his majesty's service, and
in the king's name he ought to have called upon this gentleman, a
well-known Jacobite, to surrender, and tell the lieutenant who he was.
On the other hand, if he did this unpleasant duty he would be betraying
a dear old companion of his father, a man who had watched his own career
with interest and helped him through many a little trouble; and, above
all, he would be, as the thought flashed upon him, sending Adela's
father--his own old companion's father--to the scaffold.
These thoughts flashed through his mind, and with them recollections of
those delightful schoolboy days that he had passed at the Old Manor
House, Sir Henry's pleasant home, in Sussex, when boy and girl he and
Adela had roamed the woods, boated on the lake, and fished the river
hard by.
"No," he muttered between his teeth; "I meant to be a faithful officer
to my king; but I'd sooner jump overboard than do such dirty work as
that."
There was an angry look in the young girl's eyes; and as Hilary read her
thoughts he could not help thinking how bright and beautiful a woman she
was growing. He saw that she believed he was hesitating, and there was
something scornful in her gaze, an echo, as it were, of that of her
grey-haired, careworn father, whose eyebrows even seemed to have turned
white, though his dark eyes were fiery as ever.
There was no doubt about it; they believed that he would betray them,
and there was something almost of loathing in Adela Norland's face as
her hood fell back, and the motion she made to place her hands in her
father's brought her head out of the shadow into the bright morning
light.
"Thank ye, ma'am," said Hilary in a rough, brisk voice; "I was just
going to ask you to move. You'd better come in, Tom Tully, there's a
lot of things to move. P'r'aps this gentleman will stand outside."
"Ay, ay, sir," growled Tom Tully, as Hilary darted one meaning look at
the proscribed man.
"Look here, sir," continued Hilary, as he heard the lieutenant
approaching, "you may just as well save us the trouble by declaring what
you have hidden. We are sure to find it."
"Got anything, Mr Leigh?" said the lieutenant briskly.
"Nothing yet, sir. Have you?"
"Not a tub, or a package."
"If you imagine, sir, that this boat is laden with smuggled goods you
may save yourselves a great deal of trouble, for there is nothing
contraband on board, I feel sure."
"Thank you," said the lieutenant politely, and with a satirical laugh;
"but you'd hardly believe it, my dear sir, when I tell you that dozens
of skippers and passengers in boats have said the very same thing to me,
and whenever that has been the case we have generally made a pretty good
haul of smuggled goods. Go on, my lads; I can't leave a corner
unsearched."
Sir Henry gave his shoulders a slight shrug, and turned to draw his
daughter's hood over her head.
"You'll excuse my child, gentlemen," he said coldly. "She is very weak
and ill."
"Oh! of course," said Hilary; "we've searched here, sir; she can lie
down again."
Adela uttered a low sigh of relief, and she longed to dart a grateful
look at the young officer, but she dared not; and knowing that in place
of looking pale and ill a warm flush of excitement was beaming in her
cheeks, she hastily drew her hand closer over her face, and let her
father place her upon a rough couch of dry nets.
"Heaven bless him!" muttered Sir Henry to himself; "but it was a
struggle between friendship and duty, I could see."
Meanwhile the lugger was ransacked from end to end, three more men being
called from the cutter for the purpose. Tubs were turned over, spare
sails and nets dragged about, planks lifted, bunks and lockers searched,
but nothing contraband was found, and all the while the skipper of the
lugger and his crew stood staring stupidly at the efforts of the king's
men.
"Labour in vain, Leigh," said the lieutenant at last. "Into the boat
there. Confound that scoundrel! I wish he was overboard."
The lieutenant did not say what for, but as soon as the men were in the
boat he turned to the skipper:
"Look ye here, my fine fellow, you've had a narrow escape."
"Yes," said the man stolidly, "I thought you'd have hit us."
The lieutenant did not condescend to reply, but climbed over the side
into the cutter's boat, and motioned to Leigh to follow, which he did,
not daring to glance at the passengers.
"Are you quite done, officer?" growled the skipper.
No answer was given, and as the boat reached the side of the cutter the
sails of the lugger were being hoisted, and she began to move quickly
through the water at once.
"Lay her head to the eastward," said the lieutenant sourly; "and look
here, Leigh, don't you rouse me up again for one of your mare's nests,
or it will be the--"
"Worse for you," Hilary supposed, but he did not hear the words, for the
lieutenant was already down below, and the young officer took the glass
and stood watching the lugger rapidly growing distant as the cutter
began to feel the breeze.
A curious turmoil of thought was harassing the young man's brain, for he
felt that he had been a traitor to the king, whose officer he was, and
it seemed to him terrible that he should have broken his faith like
this.
But at the same time he felt that he could not have done otherwise, and
he stood watching the lugger, and then started, for yes--no--yes--there
could be no mistake about it, a white handkerchief was being held over
the side, and it was a signal of amity to him.
Quite a couple of hours had passed, and the lugger had for some time
been out of sight round the headland astern, when all at once the
lieutenant came on deck to where his junior was pacing up and down.
"Why, Leigh," he exclaimed, "I did not think of it then; but we ought to
have detained that _chasse maree_."
"Indeed, sir; why?"
"Ah! of course it would not occur to you, being so young in the service;
but depend upon it that fellow was a Jacobite, who had persuaded those
dirty-looking scoundrels to bring him across from Saint Malo, or some
other French port, and he's going to play spy and work no end of
mischief. We've done wrong, Leigh, we've done wrong."
"Think so, sir?"
"Yes, I'm sure of it. I was so intent on finding smuggled goods that I
didn't think of it at the time. But, there: it's too late now."
"Yes, sir," said Leigh quietly, "it's too late now."
For he knew that by that time the fugitives must be in Shoreham harbour.