New Treasure Seekers Part 27

"'Bothered if you won't,' says he, and with that he ups with his hand and off comes the black patch, and he pulls off the beard and gives her a kiss and a smack on the shoulder. She always said she nearly died when she see it was her new-made bridegroom under the beard.

"So she took her own man in as a lodger, and he went to work up at Upton's Farm with his beard on, and of nights he kept up the smuggling business. And for a year or more no one knowd as it was him. But they got him at last."

"What became of him?" We all asked it.

"He's dead," said the old man. "But, Lord love you, so's everybody as lived in them far-off old ancient days--all dead--Preventives too--and smugglers and gentry: all gone under the daisies."

We felt quite sad. Oswald hastily asked if there wasn't any smuggling now.

"Not hereabouts," the old man answered, rather quickly for him. "Don't you go for to think it. But I did know a young chap--quite young he is with blue eyes--up Sunderland way it was. He'd got a goodish bit o'

baccy and stuff done up in a ole s.h.i.+rt. And as he was a-goin' up off of the beach a coastguard jumps out at him, and he says to himself, 'All u.

p. this time,' says he. But out loud he says, 'Hullo, Jack, that you? I thought you was a tramp,' says he.

"'What you got in that bundle?' says the coastguard.

"'My was.h.i.+ng,' says he, 'and a couple pairs of old boots.'

"Then the coastguard he says, 'Shall I give you a lift with it?'

thinking in himself the other chap wouldn't part if it was anything it oughtn't to be. But that young chap was too sharp. He says to himself, 'If I don't he'll nail me, and if I do--well, there's just a chance.'

"So he hands over the bundle, and the coastguard he thinks it must be all right, and he carries it all the way up to his mother's for him, feeling sorry for the mean suspicions he'd had about the poor old chap.

But that didn't happen near here. No, no."

I think Dora was going to say, "_Old_ chap--but I thought he was young with blue eyes?" but just at that minute a coastguard came along and ordered us quite harshly not to lean on the boat. He was quite disagreeable about it--how different from our own coastguards! He was from a different station to theirs. The old man got off very slowly.

And all the time he was arranging his long legs so as to stand on them, the coastguard went on being disagreeable as hard as he could, in a loud voice.

[Ill.u.s.tration: A COASTGUARD ORDERED US QUITE HARSHLY NOT TO LEAN ON THE BOAT.]

When our old man had told the coastguard that no one ever lost anything by keeping a civil tongue in his head, we all went away feeling very angry.

Alice took the old man's hand as we went back to the village, and asked him why the coastguard was so horrid.

"They gets notions into their heads," replied the old man; "the most innocentest people they comes to think things about. It's along of there being no smuggling in these ere parts now. The coastguards ain't got nothing to do except think things about honest people."

We parted from the old man very warmly, all shaking hands. He lives at a cottage not quite in the village, and keeps pigs. We did not say goodbye till we had seen all the pigs.

I daresay we should not have gone on disliking that disagreeable coastguard so much if he had not come along one day when we were talking to our own coastguards, and asked why they allowed a pack of young shavers in the boat-house. We went away in silent dignity, but we did not forget, and when we were in bed that night Oswald said--

"Don't you think it would be a good thing if the coastguards had something to do?"

d.i.c.ky yawned and said he didn't know.

"I should like to be a smuggler," said Oswald. "Oh, yes, go to sleep if you like; but I've got an idea, and if you'd rather be out of it I'll have Alice instead."

"Fire away!" said d.i.c.ky, now full of attention, and leaning on his elbow.

"Well, then," said Oswald, "I think we _might_ be smugglers."

"We've played all those things so jolly often," said d.i.c.ky.

"But I don't mean play," said Oswald. "I mean the real thing. Of course we should have to begin in quite a small way. But we should get on in time. And we might make quite a lot for poor Miss Sandal."

"Things that you smuggle are expensive," said d.i.c.ky.

"Well, we've got the c.h.i.n.k the Indian uncle sent us on Sat.u.r.day. I'm certain we could do it. We'd get some one to take us out at night in one of the fis.h.i.+ng-boats--just tear across to France and buy a keg or a bale or something, and rush back."

"Yes, and get nabbed and put in prison. Not me," said d.i.c.ky. "Besides, who'd take us?"

"That old Viking man would," said Oswald; "but of course, if you funk it!"

"I don't funk anything," said d.i.c.ky, "bar making an ape of myself. Keep your hair on, Oswald. Look here. Suppose we get a keg with nothing in it--or just water. We should have all the fun, and if we _were_ collared we should have the laugh of that coastguard brute."

Oswald agreed, but he made it a condition that we should call it the keg of brandy, whatever was in it, and d.i.c.ky consented.

Smuggling is a manly sport, and girls are not fitted for it by nature.

At least Dora is not; and if we had told Alice she would have insisted on dressing as a boy and going too, and we knew Father would not like this. And we thought Noel and H.O. were too young to be smugglers with any hope of success. So d.i.c.ky and I kept the idea to ourselves.

We went to see the Viking man the next day. It took us some time to make him understand what we wanted, but when he did understand he slapped his leg many times, and very hard, and declared that we were chips of the old block.

"But I can't go for to let you," he said; "if you was nailed it's the stone jug, bless your hearts."

So then we explained about the keg really having only water in, and he slapped his leg again harder than ever, so that it would really have been painful to any but the hardened leg of an old sea-dog. But the water made his refusals weaker, and at last he said--

"Well, see here, Benenden, him as owns the _Mary Sarah_, he's often took out a youngster or two for the night's fis.h.i.+ng, when their pa's and ma's hadn't no objection. You write your pa, and ask if you mayn't go for the night's fis.h.i.+ng, or you get Mr. Charteris to write. He knows it's all right, and often done by visitors' kids, if boys. And if your pa says yes, I'll make it all right with Benenden. But mind, it's just a night's fis.h.i.+ng. No need to name no kegs. That's just betwixt ourselves."

So we did exactly as he said. Mr. Charteris is the clergyman. He was quite nice about it, and wrote for us, and Father said "Yes, but be very careful, and don't take the girls or the little ones."

We showed the girls the letter, and that removed the trifling ill-feeling that had grown up through d.i.c.k and me having so much secret talk about kegs and not telling the others what was up.

Of course we never breathed a word about kegs in public, and only to each other in bated breaths.

What Father said about not taking the girls or the little ones of course settled any wild ideas Alice might have had of going as a cabin-girl.

The old Viking man, now completely interested in our scheme, laid all the plans in the deepest-laid way you can think. He chose a very dark night--fortunately there was one just coming on. He chose the right time of the tide for starting, and just in the greyness of the evening when the sun is gone down, and the sea somehow looks wetter than at any other time, we put on our thick unders.h.i.+rts, and then our thickest suits and football jerseys over everything, because we had been told it would be very cold. Then we said goodbye to our sisters and the little ones, and it was exactly like a picture of the "Tar's Farewell," because we had bundles, with things to eat tied up in blue checked handkerchiefs, and we said goodbye to them at the gate, and they would kiss us.

Dora said, "Goodbye, I _know_ you'll be drowned. I hope you'll enjoy yourselves, I'm sure!"

Alice said, "I do think it's perfectly beastly. You might just as well have asked for me to go with you; or you might let us come and see you start."

"Men must work, and women must weep," replied Oswald with grim sadness, "and the Viking said he wouldn't have us at all unless we could get on board in a concealed manner, like stowaways. He said a lot of others would want to go too if they saw us."

We made our way to the beach, and we tried to conceal ourselves as much as possible, but several people did see us.

When we got to the boat we found she was manned by our Viking and Benenden, and a boy with red hair, and they were running her down to the beach on rollers. Of course d.i.c.ky and I lent a hand, shoving at the stern of the boat when the men said, "Yo, ho! Heave ho, my merry boys all!" It wasn't exactly that that they said, but it meant the same thing, and we heaved like anything.

It was a proud moment when her nose touched the water, and prouder still when only a small part of her stern remained on the beach and Mr.

Benenden remarked--