Late as it was, neither Dick nor Sam was fated to get any sleep for
hours. They walked rapidly without speaking across the cliff towards
the Towers, being in fact so tired and hungry that the thoughts of both
were fixed on supper and bed. There was no path on this part of the
cliff, except a faint track which daylight would have revealed, where
the grass had been slightly worn by Joe Penwarden in his marchings to
and fro. Ordinary pedestrians always avoided the windings of the shore,
taking the high road farther inland.
The boys had come within a hundred yards of Penwarden's cottage, when
Sam all at once took Dick by the sleeve, saying:
"Look, Maister Dick, there be some one at old Joe's door."
It was too dark to see clearly, but Dick could just distinguish, now
that it was pointed out to him, a dark form close against the
whitewashed cottage on the side facing the sea.
"It's very odd at this time of night," he said. "We had better go and
tell the man, whoever he is, where he can find Joe."
They hurried on, but had not gone more than half-way to the cottage when
the figure moved from the door, and walked quickly in the direction of
the Towers. There was a footpath at the back of the garden, over which
the villagers had an immemorial right of way, though it was really the
Squire's private property.
Dick was on the point of calling out when Sam checked him.
"That be Jake Tonkin," he said, quietly: "I know un by his bow legs.
What med he want wi' old Joe, now?"
Jake was the son of Isaac Tonkin, the expertest fisher, the boldest
seaman, and the most cunning and resourceful smuggler in the village.
Isaac was a rough, quick-tempered fellow, violent when roused, but
honest according to his lights; and Dick had a certain admiration for
him, as every boy must have for a strong man who excels in bold and
daring deeds. Once or twice he had gone fishing in Tonkin's smack, and
had learnt a good deal from the man's blunt speech and craftsmanlike
actions.
It was perfectly well known in the neighbourhood that Tonkin was the
ringleader of the smugglers, but owing to his wariness and craft, and to
the supineness of the revenue officer who had preceded Mr. Mildmay,
nothing had ever been openly proved against him, and he had never been
caught in the act. In the previous winter he had narrowly escaped a
conflict with Mr. Mildmay, then in his first year of duty at this part
of the coast; and it was common talk in the village that he resented the
intrusion, as he regarded it, of so zealous an officer, and had promised
to give the revenue men a very hot time if they interfered with him. It
was he whose presence John Trevanion had remarked as he passed the open
door of the tap-room in Doubledick's inn.
Dick was as much surprised as Sam to find that Penwarden's visitor was
Tonkin's son. There was naturally no love lost between the exciseman
and the free-traders, who had, however, looked upon him with a sort of
contemptuous tolerance until Mr. Mildmay came. The old man had been
harmless enough in the days of Mr. Curgenven; not that he was remiss in
his duty, but that his efforts had been rendered nugatory by his
superior's apathy. The advent of Mr. Mildmay acted as a stimulus;
Penwarden was in truth fearful of being thought too old for his work,
and seemed to set himself deliberately to prove the contrary to the
officer. More than once in the previous winter he had prevented a run
by his timely warnings; and though the checks were only temporary, the
smugglers were annoyed with him for the difficulties he threw in their
way. It was therefore strange that young Tonkin should have gone to
visit, so late at night, a man from whom the smugglers in general held
severely aloof. Suddenly Dick remembered what Penwarden had said about
Mr. Mildmay having been summoned to Morvah, twenty-five miles or more
down the coast. It was a favourite device of the smugglers, by aid of
confederates, to decoy the officers to distant parts when they were
intending to make a run, and Dick could not help wondering whether they
were putting it in practice on the present occasion. But it did not
explain Jake Tonkin's visit, and Dick was now sufficiently interested to
think no more of his fatigue and hunger in his desire to ascertain what
was afoot. He knew that it was no business of his; the Squire had
carefully abstained from taking sides in the perennial quarrel between
the smugglers and the revenue men, and had indeed resigned his
magistracy, partly because of his reduced circumstances, but quite as
much in order to avoid any official action as a county justice. Dick
did not intend to break this neutrality; he was simply curious and
athirst for excitement.
But he reflected that he could hardly satisfy his curiosity without
spying on Jake Tonkin, and this was out of the question. He would have
ruefully done nothing more had he not seen that the lad, instead of
keeping to the path that ran directly to the village, struck off to the
left along a track that led nowhere but to the Dower House. This raised
his curiosity to a still higher pitch. What had Tonkin to do with John
Trevanion? Knowing that his father and John were on bad terms, and
having seen many little indications that the latter was bent on annoying
his cousin, it was natural that he should wonder whether the interests
of the Squire were in any way affected by the apparent connection
between John and the smugglers. After a little hesitation, he sent Sam
into the Towers, to reassure his parents and then go to bed, and went on
himself after the waddling figure of Jake Tonkin, now almost out of
sight.
Walking quickly, he was in time to see Jake enter an outhouse at the
rear of the mansion. The door closed behind him, and Dick, taking a
look round, and seeing no one, ran swiftly to the building and peeped
through the window. The room was lighted by a single candle, whose rays
fell on the forms of a dozen men seated on chairs, stools, pails, and
the table. All had their faces blackened, and he failed to discover
among them the large and massive form, almost impossible to disguise, of
Jake's father.
"He be fast asleep," he heard Jake say, evidently in answer to a
question. "I knocked once, a little un; then twice, rayther louder;
then I tried the door: 'twas locked. I didn't hear un snore, but maybe
he sleeps quiet."
"Hee! hee! 'a will sleep quieter in the grave," said a voice, which Dick
had no difficulty in recognising as that of Doubledick, the innkeeper,
whose conversation was always partial to death and the churchyard and
similar cheerful subjects.
"Mildmay would fly in a passion if he knew old Joe were asleep," said a
man whose voice Dick could not identify.
"Ay, and so would riding-officer," added a third. He referred to the
official so denominated, whose duty it was to work on shore hand in hand
with Mr. Mildmay on the sea, and who was in effect in charge of the
coast for ten or fifteen miles, acting under the Custom House officer at
St. Ives.
"Oh, 't'ud only be a little small passion," said Doubledick, "'cos the
summer bean't over, and not a man of 'em will look for us to begin afore
pilchur fishin' be past."
"Body o' me, hain't we 'ticed Mildmay away to stop a run?"
"Nay, sonny, 'twas tidings of a French privateer that baited him. 'Tis
a proper dark night, and if the wind holds, Zacky will be here a little
arter midnight. And the manin' o' that is twenty pound in our pockets,
a noble fust lesson to say 'magnify' arter."
Dick sighed inwardly; what a boon twenty pounds would be to his father's
impoverished treasury! Like all the gentlemen of the county, the Squire
was willing to purchase smuggled goods; it seemed to Dick that there was
not a great distinction between the purchaser and the smuggler; and yet
he knew that his father would be horrified at the idea of enriching
himself in that way. From what he had overheard it was clear that a
run, the first of the season, was to be attempted that night, and since
this did not concern the Squire, he was about to return home, when he
heard the click of a lock, followed by footsteps from the house, and
slipped round the angle of the building just in time to escape the eyes
of John Trevanion.
The owner of the Dower House joined the smugglers, and Dick heard his
loud and hearty greeting.
"Well, my friends, is all clear? No scent for the hounds, eh?"
"Not so much as would cover a penny-piece," cried Doubledick. "Hee!
hee! Old Joe's abed."
"I'm glad of it. Mind you, you must not bring the tubs here if there's
any interruption. It would never do for the county to know that I'm a
freighter."
"Trust we for that, yer honour; we know you must keep up yer high place,
and 'tis generous of 'ee to lend us yer cellars."
"Well, Doubledick, here's the key. I shall be abed, of course; I know
nothing about your doings, and I can trust you to work quietly and not
wake the servants."
"Iss, fay, yer honour," said a man: "ye can trust Billy Doubledick, to
be sure. He be a very clever feller: I say it to his face."
"Good night, then. I wish you well."
Dick heard his cousin return to the house and lock the door. So John
Trevanion was a freighter: one who bought contraband goods in a foreign
port, paid the expenses of shipment and carrying, and received the
profits. This was food for reflection. A word to Mr. Mildmay or Mr.
Polwhele, the riding-officer, would lead to John Trevanion's arrest.
The fate of smugglers caught in the act was five years' service in a
man-of-war, or a long term of imprisonment; aiders and abettors also
were subject to heavy penalties; and Dick would have liked to rid the
neighbourhood of the man who had caused his father such distress. But
he could not play the shabby part of informer, and for the first time in
his life he wished heartily that the smugglers might be caught, and
their connection with Trevanion discovered; hitherto his sympathies had
been entirely on their side.
Since there was nothing to be gained by remaining longer at the
outhouse, he went quietly away and walked back towards the Towers. But
he was so much interested in his strange discovery that he felt it would
be impossible to sleep until he knew whether the run proved successful.
On reaching home, therefore, he went first to his mother's room to bid
her good-night, then to the dining-room to get some supper, and shortly
after eleven o'clock stole out again. He had never seen a smuggling
run, and the likelihood that this one would be entirely undisturbed
promised a peaceful view, without any risk of running into danger, of
which he knew that his parents would disapprove.
He had not learnt where the run was to be, but guessed, if the tubs were
to be carried to the cellars of the Dower House, that the head of
Trevanion Bay would be the chosen spot. It was the most convenient
place near to the Dower House, except the little harbour itself, which
was not likely to be selected. He made his way, therefore, along the
narrow headland known as the Beal, which formed the southern boundary of
the bay. Near the end of the headland, overlooking the narrow passage
between it and the reef, by which vessels could enter the harbour at low
tide, was the favourite playground of his early boyhood. It was a
hollow in the cliff, screened from observation seaward by a huge boulder
somewhat insecurely poised. Only a few years had passed since Sam and
he used to play there at fighting the French. There they had their toy
citadel, from which they bombarded Boney's squadrons attempting an
invasion. From it, too, they could see on to the decks of vessels
passing in and out of the harbour at low tide, and hugging the cliff to
avoid the reef. They played also at smuggling, and it is noteworthy
that they were always the successful smugglers, and never the baulked
and discomfited preventive men. It was a lonely spot, and they had it
quite to themselves except for the gulls.
When, as they grew older, they no longer took the same childish delight
in playing French and English, they turned the place into a storehouse
for fishing gear. In a remote corner of the nook, they scooped out the
earth to form a deep recess, lined this with wood, and kept there a
reserve supply of hooks, tackle, rope, a spare anchor and sculls, two
fowling-pieces, and other articles, by this means often saving
themselves a journey back to the Towers. Lonely as the spot was, they
often quaked with apprehension lest their secret should be discovered,
especially during the pilchard season. At that time the huer, whose duty
it was to keep watch, and indicate by flourishing a bush, for the
benefit of the fishers below, the direction in which the shoals of fish
were swimming, was accustomed to take his stand on the headland. But he
naturally chose the highest point, and had no reason to seek the lower
level of the cave, where he could neither see nor be seen so well. The
boys were always careful to avoid the neighbourhood of their storehouse
when the huer was about, and there being nothing to draw any one else to
the spot, the secret had remained undiscovered.
It was towards this place that Dick proceeded on leaving the Towers.
But when he arrived there, he found at once that if the smugglers' cargo
was to be run in the bay it would be impossible to see anything of it.
The night was particularly dark; only such moonless nights were chosen
by the smugglers for their operations; and even the grey cliffs were
almost invisible from where he stood. He determined, therefore, to
return along the headland, and make his way down the face of the cliff
by the path whereby he had ascended with Sam on the night of their bass
fishing. There were recesses at the foot, in one of which he could
easily conceal himself and watch all that went on. And as there was no
time to lose, if he was to be in hiding before the smugglers arrived, he
walked rapidly, and climbed down the steep path at a pace that would
have been dangerous to any one who was not well acquainted with it.
He was unaware that a figure was following him. There was no sound of
footsteps to attract his attention: he did not look back, and if he had
done so he could hardly have seen the form that steadily kept pace with
him at the distance of sixty or seventy yards. The second figure
descended the path with the same surefooted ease, paused at the foot
till Dick was out of sight, and then stole after him and ensconced
himself in a hollow of the cliff only about three yards from that in
which Dick had stationed himself. These hiding-places were some twenty
yards from the bottom of the path.
Neither of the two silent watchers suspected that, on the cliff above
them, a third figure was approaching the path by which they had
descended, but from the opposite direction. Old Penwarden, so far from
being snugly asleep, as Jake Tonkin rashly concluded, had never been
more wide-awake in his life. The summoning of Mr. Mildmay to a
distance, the lateness of the pilchard season, and the darkness of the
night, combined to make him suspicious, and he had resolved to patrol
the cliff from St. Cuby's Well to the Beal, to satisfy himself that the
smugglers were not already at their tricks. Having smoked through his
pipe at the Well, he returned to his cottage, took the telescope, the
brace of pistols, the ammunition, the cutlass, and the blue light for
giving an alarm which were his regular equipment, and began to march
slowly and quietly up and down.
About ten minutes after the lads had taken up their positions, they
heard a stone come rattling down the path twenty yards to the left. A
few seconds after, they were just able to discern a dark figure emerge
on to the beach. This was followed by another, and a third, and soon
the whole beach was alive with dusky shapes. The tide was ebbing, but a
stiff breeze sent long rollers dashing over the sand, their roar and
rustle smothering the low voices of the men as they talked fitfully
together.
The watchers saw one of the men drive an iron post firmly into the sand
and attach to it the end of a rope. The other end was fastened to a
similar post in the earth at the top of the cliff. By this means a rail
was formed, to give assistance to the carriers as they climbed up with
their burdens.
A little later there came from seaward a faint creak, scarcely
distinguishable among the other sounds. The watchers pricked up their
ears. Even at low tide there was enough water beneath the cliffs to
enable a vessel to run in very close, and the hidden spectators guessed
that a lugger was drawing in: at present they could not see it. The
shore men were all low down on the beach. In a few minutes the men
could be heard splashing in the water as they waded out to the vessel.
Then the lugger itself appeared, a dark shape on the surface.
Soon the men could be seen returning in a long line, each one apparently
twice as big as before. Each bore two tubs, one in front, one behind,
slung over his shoulders by ropes which had been fitted before they left
the lugger.
Several of the men had deposited their burdens on the beach, and were
going back for more, when there was a noise of scrambling on the path.
Work ceased instantly. A figure ran a few yards towards the sea, and
spoke to a large man who appeared to be directing the operations. His
words were just audible to the watchers.
"Old Joe be comin' along cliff-top, Feyther."
"But they told me you said 'a was asleep."
"So 'a was, but 'a must ha' waked up. He be comin', sure enough."
"You must be a cussed stunpoll, then, to come slitherin' down cliff like
that, makin' a rattle to wake the dead. Well, no matter. We can deal
wi' old Joe, if so be as he's alone."
"Iss, he be alone. I pulled up the post and brought the rope
down-along."
"You've some sense in yer skull, then. Now you, Pendred, and you, Simon
Mail, go up cliff and keep a watch. Stand yerselves in that narrow part
three-quarters of the way up, and if the old meddler comes, seize un,
and choke un, but don't do un a hurt unless he shows fight. We don't
want no crowner's quest."
The two men selected to waylay the exciseman set off to climb the cliff,
and the work of running the cargo was resumed.
Dick was in a quandary. He had no interest in doing preventive work,
and there were many reasons why he should refrain from interfering. But
old Penwarden was a friend of his, and a mettlesome old fellow, who
would certainly not allow himself to be seized without a struggle.
Moreover, being armed, as he doubtless was, he would have a temporary
advantage over the smugglers, who, expecting no opposition, would
probably have no weapons with them but their knives. But it might well
be that in the struggle the smugglers, driven to desperation, would make
short work of rushing upon him and flinging him over the cliff; or if
the struggle were prolonged, they could summon help from below,
overpower him, and truss him up. In either case the old man would be in
considerable danger, for the smugglers, when their passions were
aroused, would not be over-scrupulous.
These considerations flashed through Dick's mind in a second. He could
not let Penwarden run into danger unwarned; yet how was the warning to
be given? There was but one way. A few yards to the right of the spot
where he stood it was possible to scale the cliff. The ascent was much
longer and more arduous than the regular path, and there was the risk
that he would not be in time. Unless he gained the cliff-top before
Penwarden had passed, he would be too late. There was not a moment to
spare.
Dropping down on hands and knees behind a boulder that intercepted the
view seaward, he crawled as fast as he could towards a slight
indentation of the cliff beyond which he would be invisible to the
smugglers, and where the ascent began. He was followed within a few
moments by the second watcher. Just as he was beginning to climb he
heard a low whisper behind him.
"I be comin' too, Maister Dick."
"You here, Sam? What do you mean by this?"
"Don't 'ee talk, now. I'll tell 'ee when we get to top."
They scrambled up the face of the cliff as actively as goats, clutching
at stunted bushes and tufts of coarse grass, dodging awkward corners,
fearful lest the stones and loose earth they disturbed should strike
upon the boulders below and reveal their presence to the smugglers.
Both were active lads with good wind, and their progress was no doubt
more rapid, foot for foot, than that of the smugglers on the path a
hundred yards to the right, encumbered as they were with their heavy
sea-boots. But this advantage in speed was counterbalanced by the
greater length of their course, though this in its turn was compensated
by the fact that, unless Penwarden had already passed, they would be a
hundred yards nearer to him when they reached the top.
In six minutes from the start, panting with their exertions, they heaved
themselves over the brink of the cliff and stood erect. Twenty yards to
their right, Penwarden was in the act of raising his telescope to spy
over the waters of the bay. With trembling limbs they ran towards him,
Dick giving him warning of their presence by a low clear whisper. The
old exciseman shut up his telescope with a snap, and turned.
"'Tis you, Maister Dick!" he said.
"Yes. Some one saw you. Two men are waiting for you on the path. I
can't tell you their names. You'll be knocked over if you try to go
down."
"That's the way o't, is it? We'll see about that. Thank'ee for the
warning. You didn't tell me they be running a cargo, but I know it.
I'll dash their tricks."
"But, Joe--"
"Don't stop me," said Penwarden, shaking off Dick's detaining arm.
"'Tis my duty to stop this run, Mr. Mildmay being haled off on a
wild-goose chase, and do it I will. But get 'ee home-along, sir, you
are best out o' this, though if 'ee were a bit older, dash my bones if I
wouldn't call on 'ee to help in the King's name."
Without more ado, he took from his pocket the blue light, struck a spark
from his tinder-box, and in a moment the cliff-top for many yards around
was illuminated by the brilliant sputtering flame. It was intended to
warn the lieutenant of the revenue cutter, if he were within sight, and
to draw from their cottages in the village the tidesmen, as they were
called, whose duty it was, on the alarm being given, to hasten to the
exciseman's assistance. These men were cobblers, tinkers, and other
small tradesmen, for the most part Methodists, who were ready to brave
the hostility of the smugglers for the sake of good pay and a bounty for
every hogshead seized.
Dick was aghast. Things were turning out even worse than he expected.
The light would enrage the smugglers, and they would be in no mood to
handle the old man gently. Penwarden was already hurrying towards the
path. It seemed to Dick sheer madness for one man, and a man no longer
young, to attempt to deal with a score of rough and determined
smugglers. He was rushing headlong upon destruction. All care for what
might be the consequences to himself vanished from Dick's mind; he could
not leave the exciseman to his fate. But what could he do to help him,
without weapon of any kind? He suddenly bethought him of the
fowling-pieces laid up in the little nook on the Beal.
"Come, Sam," he said, and started to run at full speed to fetch them.
They passed Penwarden like a flash; there might just be time to return
before he encountered the ambushed men. The blue light was now
extinguished, and sea and land were covered with the former darkness.
Much fleeter of foot than Sam, Dick outstripped him in a few seconds,
and ran on alone to the little cave. He seized the fowling-pieces, and
discovered that there was no ammunition; nevertheless, he raced back
with them; they might serve to over-awe the smugglers, or in the last
resort be used as clubs.
He had only just rejoined Sam when they heard a rough voice call out a
command to halt, and Penwarden's answer.
"Stand aside, in the King's name."
Clearly the dauntless old man had arrived at the spot where the
smugglers were in wait for him. The boys dashed forward, came to the
head of the path, and ran recklessly down, Dick hoping that they might
still be in time to prevent mischief. But before they reached the scene
of the scuffle, they heard the noise of some heavy body crashing down
the cliff, and then the roar of a pistol. Immediately afterwards they
caught sight of two figures hurrying down the path.
"They've killed un dead!" muttered Sam.
With his heart in his mouth, Dick ran down the path, slipping,
recovering himself, and running again. Sam was close behind. About
half-way down a body lay huddled on a projecting ledge, which had broken
its fall and prevented it from crashing to the base of the cliff. Dick
stooped over it, expecting to see Penwarden shot to the heart. To his
intense relief he heard a groan, and turning the man over, he was just
able to perceive that his face was blackened. Joe, then, had escaped,
and was one of the two who had gone down the path and were now out of
sight.
The two boys hurried on. There was a great hubbub below them; having
been discovered, the smugglers no longer troubled to preserve silence;
and Dick, hearing their angry shouts and curses, feared that Penwarden's
quixotic action in attempting to tackle them single-handed would prove
his destruction. He took the rest of the path in reckless leaps, and,
when he reached the beach, saw that the old exciseman had posted himself
beside a row of tubs which he had seized in the King's name.
In the confusion Dick's arrival was unobserved. The smugglers were
thronging up the beach with threatening cries. Penwarden's pistol
flashed, but next moment a heavy missile, hurled by one of the men,
struck him on the head, and he fell.
"Throw un into the sea," shouted a rough voice.
Half-a-dozen men rushed towards the prostrate man and began to drag him
towards the water.
"Stand!" cried Dick, dashing forward. "Loose him, or we'll fire."
[Illustration: "'STAND!' CRIED DICK, DASHING FORWARD. 'LEAVE HIM, OR
WE'LL FIRE.'"]
A sudden silence fell upon the scene. The men who held Penwarden's arms
stood aside; the others edged away, taken aback by this unexpected
intervention; there had not been time for the tidesmen to arrive from
the village. Dick and Sam stood over the exciseman, pointing their
useless muskets at the crowd. For a moment there was absolute
stillness; then one of the men murmured:
"'Tis young Maister Trevanion."
"Yes," cried Dick, "and I warn you that if any of you lays a hand on the
old man again I will report you all to Sir Bevil. I know you, for all
your black faces. There's Doubledick, and Tonkin, and----"
"Iss, 'tis I, and I don't care who knows it," interrupted Tonkin,
pushing forward. "What 'nation call ha' you got to meddle, cuss you!"
"I don't meddle with your trade; it's nothing to me; but I won't see an
old fellow killed by a pack of ruffians."
Tonkin cursed again, but some one drew him back and spoke to him in low
tones. The fact that the interruption had come from the Squire's son
was more daunting than the lads' muskets, which had no terror for armed
men accustomed to contend with equal numbers. But the name of
Trevanion, in spite of the fallen fortunes of the house, was still a
moral power in the country-side, and, further, if any harm befell the
Squire's heir, they could not escape a heavy retribution.
After a few moments' colloquy, a man came forward.
"Hark 'ee, sir," he said, and Dick recognised his voice as Doubledick's,
in spite of an attempt to disguise it. "We take it hard as you've
meddled wi' honest free-traders as never did 'ee no harm. As for old
Joe, 'twas only a bit of fun--hee! hee!--he bean't for drownin'. What I
says I says for all, and that is, we'll let 'ee take un away if you do
give us yer sacred word not to gie our names to Sir Bevil or Mr.
Mildmay,--them as you knows."
"I don't want to play informer," replied Dick. "I agree to that."
"Not a word to a soul?"
"No. I've said so."
"That's fair spoke," said the man, turning to the rest.
A murmur of approval broke from them. Dick at once lifted Penwarden,
with Sam's help, from the pool of water in which he was lying. It was
difficult to keep him on his feet, for he was as yet only partially
conscious. Without either assistance or interference from the smugglers
they led him slowly to the foot of the path, and, one on each side of
him, began to carry, rather than walk, him up the cliff. One of the
smugglers dogged them throughout the toilsome ascent. When they came to
the place where the man had fallen, after a shrewd thrust from
Penwarden's cutlass, they found that he had disappeared, having no doubt
made his way homeward.
"Thank 'ee for this, Maister Dick," murmured Penwarden when they paused
to rest at the cliff-top. "I'll have the law of those tidesmen for not
comin' when they was called."
"No doubt they didn't see your light. And look here, Joe, I promised
not to split on the men, so I want you to promise too."
"Daze me if I could split if I tried. I didn't see one of 'em plain,
nor hear their voices, and I got this crack on the head afore I could
tell one from t'other."
"Do it hurt much, maister?" asked Sam.
"More'n you'd care about, young Sam. But 'tis nawthin' at all to the
cracks and wounds we got when we served wi' Lord Admiral Rodney. Have I
telled 'ee what 'a said to me purticler one day on Plymouth Hoe?"
"Yes, yes," said Dick, quickly. "The sooner you are in bed the better."
They took him slowly to his cottage, where Dick put him to bed, gave him
some brandy, and bathed his wounded head.
"You'll stop with him to-night, Sam," he said. "Don't leave him until
Gammer Oliver comes in the morning."
"What'll 'ee say to Feyther, Maister Dick? I'm afeard he'll be in a
terrible rage wi' poor me."
"I'll make that right. Now, lock the door when I've gone, and give Mr.
Penwarden anything he wants during the night. I'll come over in the
morning."
It was nearly two o'clock before Dick got to bed, and day was breaking
before he slept. Meanwhile the smugglers finished their work
unmolested, and before morning eighty tubs of good French spirits lay in
the capacious cellars beneath the Dower House.