The men gave him a faint cheer, and crowded round to hold out their hands.

"But we will fight if you like, skipper," cried one who made himself spokesman.

"I know, my lad," said Jacques. "Good boys all. Ve nevaire had a coward on board ze Belle-Marie."

Meanwhile the cutter was coming up fast, and a few minutes after two boats boarded them full of sailors and marines, when the first thing done was to send a boat-load of prisoners, which included the captain, Vince and Mike, on board the cutter.



CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT.

WHAT THE BOYS THOUGHT.

As the boat glided alongside, the master's mate in command ordered the prisoners to go up; but Vince was already half-way over the side, followed by Mike, the lieutenant in command ordering them sternly forward.

"Quick, Mr Johnson!" he cried to the mate, "then back for the rest as smartly as you can. Tell Mr Hudson to make any leakage sound. Carpenter, there: go back with this boat."

"Ay, ay, sir."

"There's no fear of her sinking, sir," said Vince.

"What? How dare—!"

"It's all right, sir," cried Vince. "I know. We were prisoners on board the smuggler."

"You were what?"

"It is right, sare," said Jacques quietly. "I took ze boys avay and kept them as prisonaire."

"Absurd!" said the lieutenant haughtily. "Now then: away with that boat. Smart there, my lads!"

The boat was rowed rapidly back to fetch the rest of the prisoners, and the lieutenant came forward to where his first batch was ranged, to inspect them previous to sending them below.

"You're not going to send us down with them, are you?" said Mike indignantly.

"What?" roared the lieutenant in a rage: "why, you insolent, ruffianly young thief of a smuggler!"

"No, he isn't," cried Vince fiercely; "he's as much a gentleman as you are."

"Indeed!" said the lieutenant sarcastically: "perhaps he's a nobleman, sir?"

"I don't mean that," said Vince sharply; "but he's Sir Francis Ladelle's son."

"What, of the Crag?"

"Yes. We found out the smugglers' cave by accident, and they came and caught us, and have kept us ever since."

"Phew!" whistled the officer, quite changing his manner. "Then pray who are you?"

"I'm Doctor Burnet's son."

"Oh, then of course that alters the case, my lad; but you see you were caught amongst the jackdaws, so you must not wonder that I wanted to wring your neck too."

"Oh, it's all right if you believe me," said Vince; "only, after being prisoners so long, it seemed precious hard to be treated as prisoners when we expected to be free to get home."

"Then this scoundrel took you both, and has brutally ill-used you ever since?"

Vince looked round sharply, found the captain's piercing eyes fixed on his, and hesitated.

"Oh no," he said; "he caught us, and wouldn't let us go for fear we should tell where his stores of smuggled goods are, but he has behaved very well to us ever since."

"Like a gentleman," put in Mike.

"Indeed! Well, then we mustn't be so hard on him. So then, young gentlemen, you two know where the smugglers' depot is?"

Vince nodded.

"And you could show us the way?"

Vince nodded again.

"Well, then, you'll have the pleasure of being our guide there as soon as we've taken that confounded schooner."

"No, I shall not," said Vince, looking hard at Jacques. "I don't feel as if it would be fair."

"But you'll have to, my lad, in the King's name."

"Yais, you can promise to show zem every sing, mon ami" said Jacques, smiling. "My smuggling days are ovaire, and I have been expecting zis every day zese ten years."

"Very well, then," said Vince: "I'll promise to show you by land. I can't by sea, for it's a regular puzzle."

"By land, then. Where is it?"

"Over yonder, on our island."

"What, at the Crag?" cried the lieutenant.

"Yes."

The officer gave vent to a long, low whistle.

"Thank you, my lad," he said; "this is good news indeed! We have been baffled for years, stopped by this hiding-place which no one knew of. Then, when I have taken the schooner I'll land you with a party, and you shall show us the place."

"No," said Vince; "I want to be paid for doing it."

"Indeed!" said the officer, curling his lip: "how much?"

"Oh, I don't mean money. Our fathers and mothers think we're dead, and you must land us to go home at once."

"Impossible, my boy," said the lieutenant, clapping him on the shoulder in a friendly way. "Quite right; but English men—and boys—have to think first of their duty to the King. I must chase that schooner first, and—Ahoy, there! look sharp with that boat.—Look: directly I have taken her I'll land you."

"No, sir; land us now," cried Mike. "You have only to make that little sailing boat come alongside and order him to take us."

"Yes, yes," cried Vince. "He comes from our island."

"What, that fishing boat yonder?" said the lieutenant.

"Well, that is in my way. Yes, I'll do that. Now then, alongside there! Tumble up, you fellows! Marines, take charge, and see them into the hold."

"Au revoir, mes enfans," said Jacques—"au revoir, if zey do not hang me. Good boys, bose of you, but von vord. Old Daygo he is a rascaille, an old scamp; but he serve me vairy true, and it vas I tempt him vis monnaie to keep my secrete after he show me ze cavern. You vill not tell of him. He is so old, if you send him to ze prisone he soon die."

"Oh, very well; we won't tell tales of him—eh, Mike?"

"I should like to knock his old head off; but you've been so civil to us, Captain Jacques, we will not."

The captain smiled and nodded, and then followed his crew into the hold, where they were shut up with a couple of marines on guard.

By this time the cutter was in full sail, in chase of the schooner, which had reached out for a long distance, to get clear of the long reefs of dangerous rocks, running far away from the northern shore of the island. She was evidently, in fact, obliged, as she had taken that course, to tack at last, and then run straight almost back again; but it would lead her along by the north coast and probably mean escape.

"Schooner captain doesn't know his way through the Narrows, then," said Vince thoughtfully, as they stood watching the now distant schooner.

"I suppose not. Why, he could easily have got round and saved all that."

"I say," cried Vince, "never mind about old Jacques: smugglers are blackguards, and ought to be caught."

"Yes, of course."

"Well, then, let's tell the cutter captain how to get through the narrows and cut the schooner off."

"I couldn't. I should send him on the rocks. Could you?"

"Oh, I could," said Vince. "Here he comes. You'll hail the boat as soon as you're near enough, sir?"

"Eh?—the boat to set you ashore? I'd almost forgotten. Well, I suppose I must. Mr Johnson! Bah, I forgot: he's prize-master aboard the lugger. By the way, you think there's no fear of that craft sinking, my lad?"

"I feel sure, sir. The powder all exploded upward."

"Good. Here, Mr Roberts, hoist a flag for a pilot: that may bring yon fellow."

The little flag was hoisted; old Joe took no heed, however, but went on in his boat, and the lieutenant grew impatient.

"Do you think that man understands the signal?"

"I'm sure of it, sir, for he's the best pilot we have, and knows every rock."

"Then it's obstinacy. By George, I'll sink the scoundrel if he doesn't heave to;" and, giving the order, a shot was sent skipping along just in front of old Daygo's boat, when the sail was lowered directly, hoisted again, and the boat's head turned to run towards the cutter.

"Understands that, my lads," said the lieutenant; "but you must jump down quickly—I am losing a deal of time."

"Never mind, sir," said Vince; "I've been sailing all about here ever since I was quite a little fellow, and I know the rocks too. The schooner must tack round in half an hour's time, and then run east."

"Yes, I know that."

"Well, sir, you can run from here right across, and save miles."

The officer looked at him keenly.

"The passage is called the Narrows, and it's all deep water. You see the big gull rock away yonder—the one with the white top?"

"Well!"

"Make straight for that, and go within half a cable's length. Then tack, keep the south point right over the windmill for your bearings, and sail due east too. Then you can cut the smuggler off."

"Hah! yes; it's down on the chart, but I did not dare to try it. Thank you, my lad; that is grand. Ah! here's the boat."

The boys shrank back, so that old Daygo should not see them, while the lieutenant stepped up to the side and bullied the old man, who protested humbly that he did not understand the signal.

"Well, quick! Here are two passengers to take ashore. Now, my lads— sharp!"

Vince and Mike shook hands with the officer, while a sailor at the gangway held on to the painter of Daygo's boat, which was gliding pretty fast through the water, the course of the cutter not having been quite stopped; then the lads jumped lightly in, the painter was thrown after them, there was a slight touch of the helm, and the cutter heeled over and dashed away, leaving Vince and Mike looking the old man full in the face, while he stared back with his jaw dropped down almost to his chest.

"Then you arn't dead, young gen'lemen?"

"No, we're not dead," said Vince sharply. "Now then, hoist that sail and run us home."

The boys sat there watching the cutter, the lugger and the schooner all sailing rapidly away. Then suddenly it occurred to both the lads that the old man was very slow over the business of hoisting that sail; that he was then the greatest enemy they had, and that it would be very awkward for them if he were to suddenly take it into his head to do them some mischief.

"He's a big, strong man," thought Vince; "he knows that we can ruin him if we like to speak, and—I wonder what Ladle is thinking about?"

"Ladle" was thinking the same.



CHAPTER THIRTY NINE.

DAYGO MEETS HIS MATCH.

It seemed to take a long time to hoist that sail, but at last it was well up, the yard creaking against the mast; and standing on their dignity now, and keeping the old man at a distance, the boys made no offer to take the sheet or steer, but let Daygo pass them as they sat amidships, one on each side, and he seated himself, hauled in the sheet, and thrust an oar over the stern to steer.

There was a nice breeze now, they were only about a mile from the shore, and as the boat danced merrily through the little waves a feeling of joy and exultation, to which the boys had long been strangers, filled their breasts. They took long, hungry looks at the shore, and then at the cutter racing along towards the great gull rock, at the schooner careening over as she ran on under all the canvas she could bear; and then back at the lugger, which by comparison seemed to limp along, with a scrub of a spar hoisted as a jury mast, far astern, in place of the fallen mizen, so as to steady her steering.

Then they looked at each other again, those two, as they sat face to face, neither speaking, and carefully avoiding even a glance at Daygo, feeling as they did the awkwardness of their position, and averse to meeting the old scoundrel's eye.

Not that they would have met it, for Daygo was as full of discomfort as they, and with his eyes screwed up face one maze of wrinkles, he stared through between them as if looking at the prow, but really at the big patch of canvas in his sail.

For, as Daygo put it to himself, he was on the awkwardest bit of lee shore that he had ever sailed by in his life.

He had, as was surmised by the cook, caught sight of the Revenue cutter sailing by the north side of the Crag, and hurried down to his boat to warn Jacques or his companion; but, upon finding himself too late, he was making for home again, thinking that, as Jacques was taken and his lugger a prize to the cutter—which looked determined to follow up the schooner, probably to take her too—there would be no owner for the contraband goods still left in the cavern, unless that owner proved to be himself. There were two others, he mused—two who knew of the place and its treasure; but Captain Jacques was, according to the old fisherman's theory, not the kind of man to stick at trifles when such great interests were at stake; and he felt quite satisfied that the two boys would never be seen at Cormorant Crag again. Some accident would happen to them—what accident was no business of his, he argued. They had got themselves into a terrible mess through their poking and prying about, and they must put up with the consequences. They might have fallen off the cliff when getting sea-birds' eggs, or they might have been carried away by one of the currents when bathing, or they might have been capsized and drowned while they stole his boat—he called it "stole"—in any one of which cases, he said to himself, they'd never have come back to the Crag again, and it wouldn't have been any business of his, so he wasn't going to worry his brains. Old Jarks had grabbed 'em, and when he grabbed anything he didn't let it go again.

Joe Daygo was a slow thinker, and all this took him a long time to hammer out; and he had just settled it comfortably, on his way home, when he caught sight of the pilot flag flying, and paid no heed.

"Don't ketch me showing 'em the way through the Narrers to ketch the Shark!" he growled; and he kept on his way till the imperative mood present tense was tried, and then he made for the side of the cutter, to receive what was to him a regular knock-down blow, or, as he put it, a wind taking him on a very dangerous lee shore.

So the old fisherman did not look at his passengers, but began thinking hard again. He couldn't take those two home, he said to himself, for, if he did, at their first words he'd be seized by some one or every one, for they all hated him for being so well off, and monopolising so much of the lobster catching, especially Jemmy Carnach. Then Sir Francis Ladelle and the Doctor would come; he'd be locked up, sent by the smack over to England, and be tried, and all his savings perhaps be seized. Just, too, when he had a chance of doubling them by taking the contents of the cave.

He had arrived at this point with great difficulty when the strange silence on board the boat, which had so far only been broken by the lapping of the water and the creaking of the yard, was broken by Vince, who cried excitedly, as he stood up in the boat:

"Look, look, Mike! Nearly everybody's yonder on the cliff. They've heard the firing and the explosion, and they're watching the cutter chase the schooner."

Mike rose too, and with beating hearts the two boys stood trying to make out who was on the look-out; but the distance was too great to distinguish faces. Still they stood, steadying each other by clapping hands on shoulders, quite unconscious of the fact that the old man was now gazing at them with a very peculiar expression of countenance, that foreboded anything but good.

All at once, they both lurched and nearly fell, for Daygo's mind was made up, and he thrust his oar deep down, changing the boat's course suddenly, and making the sail flap.

"Here, what are you doing?" cried Vince, forced by this to speak to the old man at last.

"Think I want to run my boat into that curran' an' get on the rocks? Sit down, will you, and keep outer the way of the sheet."

For answer the boys went forward, quite out of his way, and the boat rushed on again for some ten minutes before they spoke again, though they had been looking about with gathering uneasiness, for they were growing suspicious, but ashamed to speak because the idea seemed to be absurd.

At last Vince said—

"He's making a precious long tack, Mike, and I don't know of any big current here."

Mike was silent, and they saw now that without doubt they were sailing right away from the island, and were in the full race of the tide. Still they felt that the old man must know best how to make for his tiny port, and they sat in silence for fully twenty minutes, waiting for him to make another tack and run back.

But soon the suspicions both felt had grown into a certainty, and Mike said in a whisper, as calmly as he could,—

"Cinder, he has got the conger bat out of the locker. What does he mean?"

"He means that he won't take us ashore," said Vince huskily: "he's going to sail right away with us for fear we should tell about him, and the conger bat's to frighten us and keep us quiet."

There was a strange look of agony in Mike Ladelle's eyes, as he gazed in his companion's, to read there a horror quite as deep. Then neither of them spoke, but sat there listening to the lapping of the water, which spread to right and left in two lines of foam as the little boat sped on.

It was Vince who broke the silence at last, after drawing a deep breath.

"Ladle, old chap," he said, in a low voice, "they're at home yonder, and it means perhaps never seeing them again. What shall we do?"

Mike tried to speak, but his voice was too husky to be heard for a few moments.

"I'll do what you do," he said at last.

"You'll stand by me, whatever comes?"

"Yes."

Vince glanced sidewise, to find that they were pretty well hidden by the sail; so he thrust out his hand, which was gripped fast, and the two boys sat there with throbbing hearts, trying to nerve themselves for anything that might happen now.

Then, without a word, Vince rose, and, steadying himself by the mast, he stepped over the thwart in which it was stepped, and then on to the next, close to where the old man sat steering right astern, and holding the sheet of the well-filled sail as well.

"This is not the way to the Crag," said Vince, with his voice trembling slightly; and the old man grunted.

"Where are you making for?" said Vince, firmly now.

"Didn't I tell yer I didn't want to get run on the rocks?" roared the old man, unnecessarily loudly, after a glance back at the shore, where all was growing distant and dim.

"Yes, you told me so; but it isn't true," said Vince, in a voice he did not know for his own.

"What?" roared Daygo fiercely.

"You heard what I said. Run her up in the wind at once, and go back."

"You go and sit down," growled the old man savagely.

"You change her course," said Vince firmly.

"You go and sit down while you're safe," growled the old man, with his face twitching.

"You had orders from the commander of the cutter to take us ashore. Change the boat's course directly."

"Will you go and sit down, both of you?" cried the old man again, more fiercely, but his voice was lower and deeper.

"No," said Mike; "and if you won't steer for the Crag, I will."

"This here's my boat, and I'll steer how I like, and nobody else shan't touch her."

"Your orders from the King's officer were to take us home. Will you do it?"

"No!" roared the old man. "Go and sit down, 'fore I do you a mischief."

Vince did not even look behind to see if he was going to be supported, for he felt full of that desperate courage which comes to an Anglo-Saxon-descended lad in an emergency like that. He saw the savagely murderous look in the old man's eyes, and that he had quickly seized the conger bat with one hand, after passing the sheet into that which held the oar.

With one spring Vince was upon him, seizing the heavy wooden club, which he strove to tear from his grasp, just as the old man too sprang up, and Mike snatched the sheet from his hand with a jerk which sent the oar, loose now in the old man's grasp, gliding overboard.

Mike made a dash to save it, but was flung down into the bottom of the boat as the old man thrust a foot forward and seized Vince in his tremendous grip.

The boy struggled bravely, but his fresh young muscles were as nothing to the gnarled, time-hardened flesh and sinew of the old savage, who lifted him by main force, after a short struggle which made the boat rock as if it would go over, and Vince realised what was to follow.

"Mike! do something," he cried in his agony to the boy, who was struggling up, half stunned, from where he lay between the thwarts; and in his desperation Mike did do something, for, as Daygo put out all his strength, tore Vince's clinging hands from his jersey, and hurled him right out from the boat, Mike seized the old man fiercely by one leg.

It was not much to do, but it did much, for it threw Daygo off his balance in the rocking boat; and Vince had hardly plunged down into the clear water before his enemy followed, with a tremendous splash, thrusting the boat away, and going head first deeply down.

Vince was the first to rise, shake his head, and begin to swim for the boat. But Daygo rose too directly and looked round, and then he, too, swam for the boat, whose uncurbed sail flapped wildly about; while Mike picked up the other oar to try and steer back to help his companion.

He changed the position of the boat, and that was all. It did this, though,—it gave Vince the chance of making for the side opposite to that for which Daygo aimed, and he swam with all his might to be there first.

But Vince had the greater distance to go, and Mike saw that, unless he helped, Daygo would be too much for them yet.

Quick as thought, he drew in the oar which he had thrust over the stern, turned it in his grasp as he stood up in the rocking boat, and, as the old man came up and stretched out his hands to grasp the gunwale, Mike drove the hand-hold of the oar, lance-fashion, down into his chest.

"I've killed him," groaned the boy, as his enemy fell back and went under again. Then he nearly followed him, for the boat was jerked from the other side, and he turned to find Vince had seized the gunwale and was climbing in.

A sharp drag helped him, and Vince's first act was to seize the conger bat, which lay beneath the after-thwart.

He was only just in time, for, as he turned, Daygo had risen, and swam up again to seize the gunwale with one great gnarled hand.

Crash came down the heavy club, the hand relaxed, and Daygo went down again.

"Vince! Vince! you've killed him," cried Mike, in horror. "No, no— don't: don't do that!" he shrieked, as Vince thrust his right-hand into his dripping pocket and tore out his big sharp long-bladed knife.

"You take the bat," cried Vince; and, as the boy obeyed trembling, he shouted, so that the old man could hear as he swam after them, "hit him over the hands again if he touches the boat."

It did not seem likely that he would overtake them by swimming, for the wind acted upon the flapping sail and drove them slowly along.

Taking advantage of this, Vince went forward and cut off the long rope from the ring-bolt in the stem, and returned with it to where, wild-eyed and scared, Mike knelt with the conger bat upraised, ready to strike if the old man came near.

"Now," said Vince firmly, "you hold that conger club with both hands, Mike, and if he does anything, or tries to do anything, bring it down on his head with all your might. Do you hear?"

"Yes," said Mike faintly.

"Now, then, you come and take hold of the gunwale with both hands, and let me tie your wrists," cried Vince. "Look out, Mike!"

The old man swam up and put his hands together.

"You arn't going to murder me?" he groaned.

"You wait and see—Ah!" yelled Vince, for the treacherous old ruffian had seized him by the chest and was dragging him out of the boat.

But Mike was ready: the bat came down with tremendous force, and the old man loosened his grasp and sank, remaining beneath the surface so long that the boys gazed at each other aghast.

"Quick! there he is," cried Mike; and Vince seized the oar and sculled to where the old man had come slowly up, feebly moving his hands, and apparently insensible.

"We must haul him in, Mike," said Vince. "He's not likely to hurt us now."

"If he is," said Mike, "we must do it all the same;" and, leaning over, they each got a good grip, and, heaving together, somehow rolled Daygo into the bottom of the boat, where they dragged his head beneath the centre thwart, and then firmly bound him hand and foot, using some strong fishing line as well as the painter and the rope belonging to the little grapnel.



CHAPTER FORTY.

"HUZZA! WE'RE HOMEWARD BOUND."

By the time they had done the old man began to revive, but the boat was skimming along over the waves toward Cormorant Crag before he was able to speak coherently.

"Where are you going?" he groaned at last.

"What's that to you? Home!" said Vince sharply.

"Nay, nay; don't take me there, Master Vince—don't! I give in. You two have 'most killed me, but I forgive you; only don't take me there."

"You hold your tongue, you old ruffian," cried Vince, who was steering and holding the sheet too, while Mike kept guard with the conger bat. "Mind, Mike. Don't take your eyes off him for a moment, and if he tries to untie a knot, hit him again."

"Nay, I'm beat," said the old man, with a groan. "My head! my head!"

"Serve you right," cried Mike. "I believe you meant mischief to us."

"Oh!" groaned Daygo; and he turned up his eyes till only the whites, or rather the yellows, could be seen, and then lay perfectly still; while the boat bounded onward now towards the island, as if eager to bear the boys to their home.

Vince looked hard at the big, heavy figure in the bottom of the boat, as he attended to the sailing and steering; and now that the heat of battle was over, and he sat there in his saturated clothes, he began to wonder at their success in winning the day. Then, as Daygo lay quite still, he began to think that they had gone too far, and his opinion was endorsed by his companion, who suddenly leaned back to look at him, with a face full of horror.

"Cinder," he said, "I didn't mean to, but I hit him too hard."

"Put the bat down, and come and take the oar and sheet," whispered back Vince, whose nervous feeling increased as the change was made.

Vince was no doctor, but he had not been about with his father for years, and dipped into his books, without picking up some few scraps of medical and surgical lore. So, bringing these to bear, he leaned over their prisoner and listened to his breathing, studied his countenance a little, and then placed a couple of fingers upon the man's massive wrist and then at his throat and temples.

After this he drew back to where, trembling and ghastly-looking, Mike was watching him, and now whispered, with catching breath,—

"Is he—"

Mike wanted to say "dead," but the word would not come.

"Yes," said Vince, in the same low tone; "he's shamming. Go back and keep guard."

"No, no—you," said Mike; "I'll steer."

Vince nodded, and seated himself on the thwart over the prisoner, with the heavy piece of wood close at hand.

The boat bounded on, and he glanced at the distant vessels, wondering whether the cutter would capture the schooner and the lugger get safely to port. He thought, too, a good deal about the man in the bottom of the boat, and felt more and more sure that he was right in his ideas; for every now and then there was a twitching of the muscles about the corners of his eyes, which at last opened in a natural way, and looked piteously in the boy's face.

"How far are we from the shore?" he said.

"'Bout a mile," said Vince coolly. "Why, Mike Ladelle thought you were dead?"

"So I am nearly," groaned Daygo. "Oh, my head, my head!"

"Yes, you did get a pretty good crack," said Vince; "and you'll get another if you don't lie still."

"But you've tied me so tight, Master Vince: line's a-cutting into my wristies."

"Of course it is," said Vince coolly. "I tied it as tightly as I could. You ought to be pretty well satisfied that we didn't leave you to drown."

"Ah!" groaned Daygo, "don't say that, Master Vince. I've been a good friend to you and him."

"Yes, and we're going to be good friends to you, Joe. You're such a wicked old rascal that it will do you good to be sent to prison."

"No, no; don't do that, my lad. Mebbe they'd hang me."

"What, for a pirate and smuggler? Well, perhaps they will," said Vince coolly.

"But you wouldn't like that, my lad. Untie me, and let me set you ashore, and then I'll sail away and never come near the Crag again."

"Well, but you won't come near the Crag again if I take you ashore. Sir Francis will have you put in prison, of course. Won't he, Mike?"

"There's no doubt about that," replied Mike.

Daygo groaned.

"Oh, Master Vince—don't, don't!" he cried. "I'm an old man now, and it would be so horrible."

"So it was for our poor people at home; and I know you've been pretending you hadn't seen us."

"Ay, I've been a bad 'un—'orrid bad 'un, sir, but I'm a-repenting now, and going to lead a new life."

"In prison, Joe."

"No, no, no, sir," yelled the miserable wretch. "It 'd kill me. Do be a good gen'leman, and forgive me as you ought to, bad as I've been. You untie me and let me run you ashore, and then I raally will sail away."

"What do you say, Mike?"

"Well, I think we might trust him now. He has been pretty well punished."

"Then you'd trust him?" said Vince.

Mike nodded.

"Then I wouldn't. He'd jump up, strong as ever, and pitch us overboard, or take us over to France, or do something. I'm not going to untie a knot."

"Oh, Master Vince," groaned the old fellow; "and after all the fish I've give you, and the things I've done!"

"Including trying to drown me," said Vince.

"Oh, Master Mike, you have got a 'art in yer," groaned Daygo. "You try an' persuade him, sir. Don't take me ashore and give me up."

"Look, Mike," said Vince excitedly, as a white puff of smoke suddenly appeared from the bows of the cutter, followed shortly by another, showing that they had got within range of the schooner, and the firing was kept up steadily as the boat sailed on, fast nearing the shore now, where the cliff was dotted with the people attracted by the engagement.

But the firing did not interest Daygo, who kept on pleading and protesting and begging to be forgiven to one who seemed to have thoroughly hardened his heart.

Then the old man made an effort to wriggle himself into a sitting position, but a light tap with the conger bat sent him down.

"Don't you move again," said Vince sternly; "and don't you say another word, or you'll make your case worse than ever."

Daygo groaned, and Vince watched the shore, which they were fast nearing. Then, springing up, he began to wave his hands frantically.

"Look, Mike! that's my father. Yes; and yours. Ah! they see us, and they're waving their hats. Ahoy! Ashore there! Hurrah! we're all right, father."

Mike sprang up too, forgetting his steering; and the boat would have begun to alter her course, but Vince seized the oar and set her right.

"Now then, jump up," he cried, "and show yourself. They see us. Father's coming nearer down. Mike, we shall be ashore in five minutes."

"Oh—oh—oh!" groaned Daygo. "Marcy, young gents, marcy! I know they'll hang me."

Vince turned upon him fiercely, and took out his long Spanish knife, which he opened and whetted upon the gunwale, while the old man's eyes opened so that he showed a ring around the iris.

"What are you going to do, Cinder?" cried Mike, catching him by the arm.

"I'll show you directly," said Vince firmly.

Just then the Doctor and Sir Francis began shouting to the boys; and the people near, among whom were Jemmy Carnach and the Lobster, took off and waved their caps, and cheered.

"Look here, Ladle," whispered Vince: "will you do as I tell you—I mean, do as I do?"

"Yes; anything."

"I'm soaked. Do you mind being the same?"

"Not a bit," cried Mike excitedly.

"Right, then: follow me. It's only fifty or sixty yards now to the tunnel, and we can wade through. Starboard a little more. That's it."

He pressed the oar his companion held, and the boat glided behind the towering rock, hiding the group on shore from their sight; and now Vince bent forward over their prisoner.

"In with the oar, Mike," he said loudly, "and do as I do."

He bent over the old fisherman, whose eyes, were nearly starting out of his head with horror, and with one clean thrust beneath the cord, divided it and set Daygo's wrists free, and then did the same by his ankles.

Then Vince started up.

"There," he cried; "there's our revenge on you, you old ruffian! You've got your boat: sail away, and never let us see you at the Crag again. Now, Mike, over!"

He set the example; and, as the old man sat up, the two boys dived into the deep clear water together, rose and swam for the tunnel, into which they passed, and were soon able to wade on towards the little dock. A minute later each was clasped in his father's arms.

Wet as he was?

Well, it was only sea water.

Need I write about what took place at the Doctor's cottage and at the old manor? I think not. There is surely no boy who reads this and thinks of his mother's tears who cannot imagine the scene far more vividly than I can describe it. For the long mourned ones had returned, as if by a miracle, and all was happiness once more.

That night it was announced that the cutter had gone east, with the schooner close astern; and three days later she was off the Crag, Vince and Mike being ready to meet the lieutenant when he landed and to act as guides.

The officer of the cutter was for making them show the way into the caverns by sea; but on hearing more he had his men furnished with all the picks and bars that could be provided, and then, with an ample supply of lanthorns, the entrance to the dark passage was sought, Sir Francis and the Doctor being quite as eager to see the place as the sailors.

Half-way through it was found to be blocked; but a pound of powder well placed and provided with a slow match was left to explode, and as soon as the foul air had cleared away the place was found practicable, and the party descended to find enough cargo left to well lade the cutter.

But the men did not hurry themselves, nor the officers neither; for they found the hospitality at the Mount or at the Doctor's very agreeable.

At last, though, the cutter sailed, but not before an attempt had been made to enter the smugglers' dock; only it was given up as being too risky for His Majesty's Revenue cutter.

Previous to going, the lieutenant, who had become a great friend of the boys, said a few words which afterwards bore fruit. They were these:—

"I say, my lads, why don't you two chaps go to sea? You'd make splendid middies."

They did; but it was not till a year after the announcement which came to the Crag that the two boys' names were down as sharers in the prize money distributed to the officers and men of the cutter.

"And it does seem rum, Ladle," said Vince, as they lay on the thyme-scented grass, looking out to sea, and occasionally letting their eyes wander towards the great bluff which hid away the Scraw.

"What seems rum?" said Mike wonderingly.

"That we should get a share in poor old Jacques' treasures after all. I wonder what has become of him."

They heard at last that, by the help of one of his men, who had acted as cook on board the lugger, he had escaped to France; and two years later, when they were growing men, they caught sight of old Daygo in Plymouth town, but the old man managed to avoid them, and, for reasons which the reader can easily understand, neither of the young men felt disposed to hunt him out and ask how he came there. Had they done so, they would have found that Joe Daygo had been saving money for many years, and he was living outside the port, where he could see the sea, as "a retired gentleman."

These are his own words.

And the caverns down by the Scraw?

Sixty years' workings of time and tide have made strange alterations there. Huge masses have fallen in, rocks have been washed away, and pleasant slopes have taken the place of precipice and dangerous rift; but the sea gulls wheel round the rugged cliffs and rear their young in safety, and upon sunny days, when the fierce currents are running strong, the dark olive-green birds may be seen swimming and diving to bring up their silvery prey to gorge, and afterwards fly off to dry their plumage on shelves and slopes of their home—dangerous surf-girt Cormorant Crag.

The End.