Cutlass and Cudgel | Page 3

"Me, sir? No!" cried the man excitedly.
"I mean about the Lincolnshire coast. Confess it isn't half so beautiful
as this."
"Oh, yes it is, sir. It's so much flatter. Why, you can't hardly find a
place to land here, without getting your boat stove in."
"If all's true, the smugglers know how to land things," said Archibald,
as he gazed thoughtfully at the cliffs.
"Oh, them! O' course, sir, they can go up the cliffs, and over 'em like
flies in sugar basins. They get a spar over the edge, with a reg'lar
pulley, and lets down over the boats, and then up the kegs and bales
comes."
"Ah, well, we must catch them at it some day, Dick, and then there'll be
lots o' prize-money for you all."
"And for you too, sir; officers comes first. But we arn't got the prize yet,
and it's my belief as we shan't get it."
"Why?"
"Because it seems to me as there's something not all right about these
here craft."
"Of course there is, they are smugglers."
"Yes, sir, and worse too. If they was all right, we shouldn't ha' been
cruising 'bout here seven weeks, and never got a sight o' one of 'em,

when we know they've been here all the time."
"I don't understand you, Dick," said the middy, as he watched the going
and coming of the rock pigeons which flew straight for the cliff, seemed
to pass right in, and then dashed out.
"Well, sir, I can't explain it. Them there's things as you can't explain,
nor nobody else can't."
He wrinkled up his face and shook his head, as if there were a great
deal more behind.
"Now, what are you talking about, Dick?" cried the lad. "You don't
mean that the smuggler's a sort of ghost, and his lugger's all fancy?"
"Well, not exactly, sir, because if they was, they couldn't carry real
cargoes, which wouldn't be like the smuggler and his lugger, sir, and,
of course, then the kegs and lace wouldn't be no good. But there's a bit
something wrong about these here people, and all the men thinks so
too."
"More shame for them!" said the middy quickly. "Hi! Look there, Dick;
what's that?"
He seized the sailor by the shoulder, and pointed where, some five
hundred yards away, close under the cliff, but on the rise of the line of
breakers, there was something swimming slowly along.
Dick shaded his eyes, for no reason whatever, the sun being at his back,
and gazed at the object in the water.
"'Tarnt a porpus," he said thoughtfully.
"As if I didn't know that," cried the lad; and, running aft, he descended
into the cabin, and returned with a glass, which he focussed and gazed
through at the object rising steadily and falling with the heave of the
sea.
"See her, sir?"

"Yes," answered the middy, with his glass at his eye. "It's a bullock or a
cow."
"Werry like, sir. There is sea-cows, I've heared."
"Oh, but this isn't one of them. I believe it's a real cow, Dick."
"Not she, sir. Real cows lives in Lincolnshire, and feeds on grass. I
never see 'em go in the sea, only halfway up their legs in ponds, and
stand a-waggin' their tails to keep off the flies. This here's a sea-cow,
sir, sartin."
"It's a cow, Dick; and it has tumbled off the cliff, and is swimming for
its life," said the lad, closing the glass.
The sailor chuckled.
"What are you laughing at?"
"At you, sir, beggin' your pardon. But you don't think as how a cow
would be such a fool as to tumble off a cliff. Humans might, but cows is
too cunning."
"I don't believe you would be," cried the lad smartly. "Put you up there
in such a fog as we've had, and where would you be?"
"Fast asleep in the first snug corner I could find," said the sailor, as the
midshipman ran aft, and descended into the cabin, to go to the end and
tap on a door.
There was no answer, and he tapped again.
"Hullo!"
"Beg pardon, sir," began the midshipman.
"Granted! Be off, and don't bother me again."
There was a rustling sound, and a deep-toned breathing, that some

rude people would have called a snore. The midshipman looked
puzzled, hesitated, and then knocked again.
There came a smothered roar, like that of an angry beast.
"Beg pardon, sir."
"Who's that?"
"Raystoke, sir."
"What do you want? Am I never to have a night's rest again?"
All this in smothered tones, as if the speaker was shut up in a cupboard
with a blanket over his head.
"Wouldn't have troubled you, sir, but--"
"Smugglers in sight?"
"No, sir; it's a cow."
"A what?"
"Cow, sir,