At length we descried a light and a roof,and presently afterwards ran alongside a little causeway made of stones that had been picked up hard by. Leaving the rest in the boat, I stepped ashore, and found the light to be in a window of a public-house. It was a dirty place enough, and I dare say not unknown to smuggling adventurers; but there was a good fire in the kitchen, and there were eggs and bacon to eat, and various liquors to drink. Also, there were two double-bedded rooms,—“such as they were,” the landlord said. No other company was in the house than the landlord, his wife, and a grizzled male creature, the “Jack” of the little causeway, who was as slimy and smeary as if he had been low-water mark too.
With this assistant, I went down to the boat again,and we all came ashore, and brought out the oars,and rudder and boat-hook, and all else,and hauled her up for the night.We made a very good meal by the kitchen fire,and then apportioned the bedrooms:Herbert and Startop were to occupy one;I and our charge the other.We found the air as carefully excluded from both,as if air were fatal to life;and there were more dirty clothes and bandboxes under the beds than I should have thought the family possessed. But we considered ourselves well off, notwithstanding, for a more solitary place we could not have found.
While we were comforting ourselves by the fire after our meal,the Jack—who was sitting in a corner,and who had a bloated pair of shoes on,which he had exhibited while we were eating our eggs and bacon,as interesting relics that he had taken a few days ago from the feet of a drowned seaman washed ashore—asked me if we had seen a four-oared galley going up with the tide?When I told him No, he said she must have gone down then,and yet she “took up too,” when she left there.
“They must ha’ thought better on’t for some reason or another,” said the Jack, “and gone down.”
“A four-oared galley, did you say?” said I.
“A four,” said the Jack, “and two sitters.”
“Did they come ashore here?”
“They put in with a stone two-gallon jar for some beer.I’d ha’ been glad to pison the beer myself,” said the Jack, “or put some rattling physic in it.”
“Why?”
“_I_ know why,” said the Jack.He spoke in a slushy voice,as if much mud had washed into his throat.
“He thinks,” said the landlord,a weakly meditative man with a pale eye,who seemed to rely greatly on his Jack,—“he thinks they was, what they wasn’t.”
“_I_ knows what I thinks,” observed the Jack.
“_You_ thinks Custom ’Us, Jack?” said the landlord.
“I do,” said the Jack.
“Then you’re wrong, Jack.”
“AM I!”
In the infinite meaning of his reply and his boundless confidence in his views,the Jack took one of his bloated shoes off,looked into it, knocked a few stones out of it on the kitchen floor,and put it on again.He did this with the air of a Jack who was so right that he could afford to do anything.
“Why, what do you make out that they done with their buttons then, Jack?” asked the landlord, vacillating weakly.
“Done with their buttons?” returned the Jack. “Chucked ’em overboard.Swallered ’em. Sowed ’em, to come up small salad.Done with their buttons!”
“Don’t be cheeky, Jack,” remonstrated the landlord,in a melancholy and pathetic way.
“A Custom ’Us officer knows what to do with his Buttons,” said the Jack, repeating the obnoxious word with the greatest contempt,“when they comes betwixt him and his own light.A four and two sitters don’t go hanging and hovering,up with one tide and down with another,and both with and against another,without there being Custom ’Us at the bottom of it.” Saying which he went out in disdain; and the landlord,having no one to reply upon,found it impracticable to pursue the subject.
This dialogue made us all uneasy, and me very uneasy.The dismal wind was muttering round the house,the tide was flapping at the shore,and I had a feeling that we were caged and threatened.A four-oared galley hovering about in so unusual a way as to attract this notice was an ugly circumstance that I could not get rid of. When I had induced Provis to go up to bed, I went outside with my two companions (Startop by this time knew the state of the case), and held another council. Whether we should remain at the house until near the steamer’s time, which would be about one in the afternoon, or whether we should put off early in the morning, was the question we discussed. On the whole we deemed it the better course to lie where we were, until within an hour or so of the steamer’s time, and then to get out in her track, and drift easily with the tide. Having settled to do this, we returned into the house and went to bed.
I lay down with the greater part of my clothes on,and slept well for a few hours. When I awoke,the wind had risen,and the sign of the house (the Ship) was creaking and banging about,with noises that startled me. Rising softly,for my charge lay fast asleep,I looked out of the window.It commanded the causeway where we had hauled up our boat,and, as my eyes adapted themselves to the light of the clouded moon,I saw two men looking into her.They passed by under the window,looking at nothing else,and they did not go down to the landing-place which I could discern to be empty, but struck across the marsh in the direction of the Nore.
My first impulse was to call up Herbert,and show him the two men going away. But reflecting,before I got into his room,which was at the back of the house and adjoined mine,that he and Startop had had a harder day than I,and were fatigued, I forbore. Going back to my window,I could see the two men moving over the marsh.In that light, however, I soon lost them, and,feeling very cold, lay down to think of the matter,and fell asleep again.
We were up early. As we walked to and fro,all four together, before breakfast,I deemed it right to recount what I had seen.Again our charge was the least anxious of the party.It was very likely that the men belonged to the Custom House,he said quietly, and that they had no thought of us.I tried to persuade myself that it was so,—as, indeed,it might easily be. However,I proposed that he and I should walk away together to a distant point we could see, and that the boat should take us aboard there, or as near there as might prove feasible, at about noon. This being considered a good precaution, soon after breakfast he and I set forth, without saying anything at the tavern.
He smoked his pipe as we went along,and sometimes stopped to clap me on the shoulder.One would have supposed that it was I who was in danger,not he, and that he was reassuring me.We spoke very little. As we approached the point,I begged him to remain in a sheltered place,while I went on to reconnoitre;for it was towards it that the men had passed in the night.He complied, and I went on alone.There was no boat off the point,nor any boat drawn up anywhere near it,nor were there any signs of the men having embarked there.But, to be sure, the tide was high,and there might have been some footprints under water.
When he looked out from his shelter in the distance,and saw that I waved my hat to him to come up,he rejoined me, and there we waited;sometimes lying on the bank, wrapped in our coats,and sometimes moving about to warm ourselves,until we saw our boat coming round.We got aboard easily,and rowed out into the track of the steamer.By that time it wanted but ten minutes of one o’clock,and we began to look out for her smoke.