Mary Anerley by Richard Doddridge Blackmore (new ebook reader .TXT) 📕

the villain's game; it is all clear now," he shouted, as he slammed his spy-glass. "He means to run in where we dare not follow: and he knows that Carroway is out of hail. The hull may go smash for the sake of the cargo; and his flat-bottomed tub can run where we can not. I dare not carry after him--court-martial if I do: that is where those fellows beat us always. But, by the Lord Harry, he shall not prevail! Guns are no good--the rogue knows that. We will land round the point, and nab him."

By this time the moon was beginning to open the clouds, and strew the waves with light; and the vapors, which had lain across the day, defying all power of sun ray, were gracefully yielding, and departing softly, at the insinuating whisper of the gliding night. Between the busy rolling of the distant waves, and the shining prominence of forward cliffs, a quiet space was left for ships to sail in, and for men to show activity in shooting one another. And some of these were hurrying to do so, if they could.

"There is little chance of hitting them in this bad light; but let them have it, Jakins; and a guinea for you, if you can only bring that big mainsail down."

The gunner was yearning for this, and the bellow of his piece responded to the captain's words. But the shot only threw up a long path of fountains, and the bilander ploughed on as merrily as before.

"Hard aport! By the Lord, I felt her touch! Go about! So, so--easy! Now lie to, for Kestrel and Albatross to join. My certy! but that was a narrow shave. How the beggar would have laughed if we had grounded! Give them another shot. It will do the gun good; she wants a little exercise."

Nothing loath was master gunner, as the other bow-gun came into bearing, to make a little more noise in the world, and possibly produce a greater effect. And therein he must have had a grand success, and established a noble reputation, by carrying off a great Grimsby head, if he only had attended to a little matter. Gunner Jakins was a celebrated shot, and the miss he had made stirred him up to shoot again. If the other gun was crooked, this one should be straight; and dark as it was inshore, he got a patch of white ground to sight by. The bilander was a good sizable object, and not to hit her anywhere would be too bad. He considered these things carefully, and cocked both eyes, with a twinkling ambiguity between them; then trusting mainly to the left one, as an ancient gunner for the most part does, he watched the due moment, and fired. The smoke curled over the sea, and so did the Dutchman's maintop-sail, for the mast beneath it was cut clean through. Some of the crew were frightened, as may be the bravest man when for the first time shot at; but James Brown rubbed his horny hands.

"Now this is a good judgment for that younker Robin Lyth," he shouted aloud, with the glory of a man who has verified his own opinions. "He puts all the danger upon his elders, and tells them there is none of it. A' might just as well have been my head, if a wave hadn't lifted the muzzle when that straight-eyed chap let fire. Bear a hand, boys, and cut away the wreck. He hathn't got never another shot to send. He hath saved us trouble o' shortening that there canvas. We don't need too much way on her."

This was true enough, as all hands knew; for the craft was bound to take the beach, without going to pieces yet awhile. Jem Brown stood at the wheel himself, and carried her in with consummate skill.

"It goeth to my heart to throw away good stuff," he grumbled at almost every creak. "Two hunder pound I would 'a paid myself for this here piece of timber. Steady as a light-house, and as handy as a mop; but what do they young fellows care? There, now, my lads, hold your legs a moment; and now make your best of that."

"With a crash, and a grating, and a long sad grind, the nuptial ark of the wealthy Dutchman cast herself into her last bed and berth.

"I done it right well," said the Grimsby man.

The poor old bilander had made herself such a hole in the shingle that she rolled no more, but only lifted at the stern and groaned, as the quiet waves swept under her. The beach was swarming with men, who gave her a cheer, and flung their hats up; and in two or three minutes as many gangways of timber and rope were rigged to her hawse-holes, or fore-chains, or almost anywhere. And then the rolling of puncheons began, and the hoisting of bales, and the thump and the creak, and the laughter, and the swearing.

"Now be you partiklar, uncommon partiklar; never start a stave nor fray a bale. Powerful precious stuff this time. Gold every bit of it, if it are a penny. They blessed coast-riders will be on us round the point. But never you hurry, lads, the more for that. Better a'most to let 'em have it, than damage a drop or a thread of such goods."

"All right, Cappen Brown. Don't you be so wonnerful unaisy. Not the first time we have handled such stuff."

"I'm not so sure of that," replied Brown, as he lit a short pipe and began to puff. "I've a-run some afore, but never none so precious."

Then the men of the coast and the sailors worked with a will, by the broad light of the moon, which showed their brawny arms and panting chests, with the hoisting, and the heaving, and the rolling. In less than an hour three-fourths of the cargo was landed, and some already stowed inland, where no Preventive eye could penetrate. Then Captain Brown put away his pipe, and was busy, in a dark empty part of the hold, with some barrels of his own, which he covered with a sailcloth.

Presently the tramp of marching men was heard in a lane on the north side of the cove, and then the like sound echoed from the south. "Now never you hurry," said the Grimsby man. The others, however, could not attain such standard of equanimity. They fell into sudden confusion, and babble of tongues, and hesitation--everybody longing to be off, but nobody liking to run without something good. And to get away with anything at all substantial, even in the dark, was difficult, because there were cliffs in front, and the flanks would be stopped by men with cutlasses.

"Ston' you still," cried Captain Brown; "never you budge, ne'er a one of ye. I stands upon my legitimacy; and I answer for the consekence. I takes all responsibility."

Like all honest Britons, they loved long words, and they knew that if the worst came to the worst, a mere broken head or two would make all straight; so they huddled together in the moonlight waiting, and no one desired to be the outside man. And while they were striving for precedence toward the middle, the coast-guards from either side marched upon them, according to their very best drill and in high discipline, to knock down almost any man with the pommel of the sword.

But the smugglers also showed high discipline under the commanding voice of Captain Brown.

"Every man ston' with his hands to his sides, and ask of they sojjers for a pinch of bacca."

This made them laugh, till Captain Nettlebones strode up.

"In the name of his Majesty, surrender, all you fellows. You are fairly caught in the very act of landing a large run of goods contraband. It is high time to make an example of you. Where is your skipper, lads? Robin Lyth, come forth."

"May it please your good honor and his Majesty's commission," said Brown, in his full, round voice, as he walked down the broadest of the gangways leisurely, "my name is not Robin Lyth, but James Brown, a family man of Grimsby, and an honest trader upon the high seas. My cargo is medical water and rags, mainly for the use of the revenue men, by reason they han't had their new uniforms this twelve months."

Several of the enemy began to giggle, for their winter supply of clothes had failed, through some lapse of the department. But Nettlebones marched up, and collared Captain Brown, and said, "You are my prisoner, sir. Surrender, Robin Lyth, this moment." Brown made no resistance, but respectfully touched his hat, and thought.

"I were trying to call upon my memory," he said, as the revenue officer led him aside, and promised him that he should get off easily if he would only give up his chief. "I am not going to deny, your honor, that I have heard tell of that name 'Robin Lyth.' But my memory never do come in a moment. Now were he a man in the contraband line?"

"Brown, you want to provoke me. It will only be ten times worse for you. Now give him up like an honest fellow, and I will do my best for you. I might even let a few tubs slip by."

"Sir, I am a stranger round these parts; and the lingo is beyond me. Tubs is a bucket as the women use for washing. Never I heared of any other sort of tubs. But my mate he knoweth more of Yorkshire talk. Jack, here his honor is a-speaking about tubs; ever you hear of tubs, Jack?"

"Make the villain fast to yonder mooring-post," shouted Nettlebones, losing his temper; "and one of you stand by him, with a hanger ready. Now, Master Brown, we'll see what tubs are, if you please; and what sort of rags you land at night. One chance more for you--will you give up Robin Lyth?"

"Yes, sir, that I will, without two thoughts about 'un. Only too happy, as the young women say, to give 'un up, quick stick--so soon as ever I ha' got 'un."

"If ever there was a contumacious rogue! Roll up a couple of those puncheons, Mr. Avery; and now light half a dozen links. Have you got your spigot-heels--and rummers? Very good; Lieutenant Donovan, Mr. Avery, and Senior Volunteer Brett, oblige me by standing by to verify. Gentlemen, we will endeavor to hold what is judicially called an assay--a proof of the purity of substances. The brand on these casks is of the very highest order--the renowned Mynheer Van Dunck himself. Donovan, you shall be our foreman; I have heard you say that you understood ardent spirits from your birth."

"Faix, and I quite forget, commander, whether I was weaned on or off of them. But the foine judge me father was come down till me--honey, don't be narvous; slope it well, then--a little thick, is it? All the richer for that same, me boy. Commander, here's the good health of his Majesty--Oh Lord!"

Mr. Corkoran Donovan fell down upon the shingle, and rolled and bellowed: "Sure me inside's out! 'Tis poisoned I am, every mortial bit o' me. A docthor, a docthor, and a praste, to kill me! That ever I should live to die like this! Ochone, ochone, every bit of me; to be brought forth upon good whiskey, and go out of the world upon docthor's stuff!"

"Most folk does that, when they ought to turn ends t'otherwise." James Brown of Grimsby could see how things were going, though his