CHAPTER IV
THE SMUGGLER'S CAVE
Joe Markham had, as soon as he arrived, told the French smugglers thathe had shot the magistrate who had for the last five or six years giventhem so much trouble and caused them so much loss, and who had, as thelast affair showed, become more dangerous than ever, as he could onlyhave obtained information as to the exact point of landing by havingbribed someone connected with them.
"It was a case of his life or our business," he said. "If he had notbeen got out of the way we must have given up the trade altogether onthis part of the coast; besides, he has been the cause, not only ofseveral seizures of cargoes, but of the death of eight or ten of ourcomrades and of the imprisonment of many others. Now that he is out ofthe way we shall find things a great deal easier."
"It served him right," the leader of the party said, "and you haverendered good service; but what are you going to do? Do you think thatany suspicion will fall upon you?"
"Yes; I have put myself in an awkward position, I am afraid. I thoughtthat the job had been so well managed that it could never be traced tome, but when I got up to the top of the hill I saw a fellow juststarting from the bottom. I did not think much of it at the time, but hecame up so quickly after me that he must have run all the way up. He haschased me hard, and as he got nearer I could see that he had a gun too.He was not more than a quarter of a mile away when I got to thetrap-door."
"Why didn't you hide yourself in the bushes and put a bullet into him,Markham?"
"For several reasons. In the first place, the gun might have been heardby some of those cussed revenue men. Then there would be an inquiry anda search. They would have seen by the direction he had been going, thathe must have been shot from the bushes, and as no one would have been insight when they ran up, the thing would have been such a puzzle to themthat you may be sure they would have suspected there must be some hiddenway out of the clump. Besides, they would probably have hunted everyinch of the ground to see if they could find anything that would givethem a clue as to who had fired the shot. That is one reason."
"And quite good enough without any others," the Frenchman said.
"Well, there was another one that went for almost as much with me. Ishot down Faulkner because he was a curse to us all. He had imprisonedseveral of my pals, and done a lot of damage to the trade, and waslikely to break it up altogether, besides which I had a big grudgeagainst him on my own account. But I should not have liked to shoot downthis fellow in cold blood. I had no feeling against him; he has done meno harm; I did not even know who he was. If he had overtaken me in theopen, you may be sure that I should have made a fight of it, for itwould have been my life against his. I don't pretend to be soft; thereis little enough of that about me, and I have fought hard several timesin the old days when we were surprised; but I could not have shot downthat fellow without giving him a chance of his life. If there had notbeen the trap-door to escape by I should have stood up, given him fairwarning, and fought it out man to man. As it was--" at this point theconversation had been arrested by the sudden entrance of Julian.
"Who is he?" the chief of the smugglers asked Joe when he had finishedhis conversation with the prisoner. "Is he a spy?"
"No; he is a young chap as lives down in the town. He is a pal of someof our friends there, and has been with them at the landings of goods.He was caught in that last affair, but got off because they could notprove that he was actually engaged in the business. He is an enemy ofFaulkner's too; they had a row there, and Faulkner hit him in the face.You can see the mark still; and he would have thrown Faulkner on to thebonfire they had lit if he had not been prevented by some of thecoast-guards. It is through what he had heard from our friends of thiscavern, and there being an entrance to it somewhere, that he came tolook for the trap-door. I certainly pushed the bolt forward when I camedown, but I was in a hurry, so I suppose it could not have caughtrightly."
"Well, what is to be done, Joe?"
"I don't know. You see he knows about my shooting Faulkner. I wouldtrust him not to peach about this cavern or the trap-door, but I don'tknow as I would about the other thing. It seems to me that he is just aslikely to be suspected of having a hand in it as I am. His row withFaulkner is the talk of the place, and when Faulkner is found with abullet in him, he will be the first fellow to be suspected. Well, ifthat was so, and you see he would not be able to account for himself forthree or four hours afterwards, he might be driven to peach on me tosave his own life, and he would be obliged to give all the story aboutfollowing me and coming down here. There would be an end of the besthiding-place in the country, and I should not be able to show my face onthis side of the Channel again."
"I should say the safest plan would be to cut his throat and chuck himinto the sea, and have done with it."
"No, I won't have that," the poacher said positively. "Your lugger willbe in to-night, and we will take him across with us to France."
"That is all very well," one of the men said; "but what is to preventhis coming back again?"
"We could prevent it somehow or other. We could get up a tale that hewas an English sailor we had picked up at sea, and hand him over to theauthorities, and tell them his story was, that he had fallen overboardfrom an English ship of war. Then they would send him away to some placein the interior where they keep English prisoners of war, and there hemight lie for years; perhaps never get back again. He does not know aword of French, as you saw when you spoke to him, so he can't contradictany story we may tell, and if by chance any questions should be asked, Ican just say what suits us."
"He might ruin us all if he came back," the smuggler growled.
"It ain't likely that he will come back," the poacher said. "I haveheard that they die off like flies in those prisons of yours; and,besides, I will guarantee if he does, he will never split about thisplace. He is a gentleman, and I will get him to swear to me, and you maybe sure he will not break his oath."
"But how about yourself?"
"Well, as he won't come back for some years, I will take my chance ofthat. He has got no evidence against me; it would be his word againstmine. He would tell his story and I should tell mine, and mine would bethe most likely. I should say I met him on the hills with his gun, and,knowing who I was, and what cause I had got to hate Faulkner, he told methat he had shot him, and asked me to get him on board a smuggler craftand across the Channel, and that I had done so: and that is all I shouldknow about it. No, I am not afraid of anything he might say when hecomes back again."
Julian had watched the speakers anxiously during this conversation. Hewas wholly ignorant of French, but from the tone and manner of thespeakers, he gathered that the poacher was speaking in his favour. Hehad expected no mercy; his life was nothing to these French smugglers;and he was surprised to find the man, whose life he thought he held inhis hand if released, apparently pleading his cause.
"Look here, young fellow!" the poacher said, turning towards him. "Inthe first place, these men are afraid that you may betray the existenceof this place, and their opinion is that the best thing to make us safewould be to cut your throat and throw you out of the mouth of the caveinto the sea. I told them that you knew of the cave from one of ourfriends, and could be trusted to keep the secret; at any rate theydemand, in the first place, that you shall take an oath never to splitabout it."
"I will do that willingly enough," Julian said, with a great feeling ofrelief.
Joe Markham then dictated a terrible oath, which had been always takenby all those made acquainted with the existence of the cave, and thisJulian repeated after him. The poacher then told the smugglers whatJulian had sworn to.
"Now, young fellow, I may tell you that we are going to take you over toFrance to-night. You may think I shall be asking you to take anotheroath, like that, not to say anything against me, but I ain't going to. Ishot the man, and I don't pretend to be sorry for it. He was a hard, badchap, and he got what he deserved. I owed him a long score, not only formyself, but for others, an
d if I had not shot him, someone else wouldhave done so sooner or later. I shall do what I can to prevent youcoming back here, though I don't think you will say anything against mewhen you do come back. In the first place, like enough I shall take tothe sea again, and may be settled in France before you return. In thenext place, I may be dead; and, most of all, you have got no evidenceagainst me. If I were here, and you told the story, of course I shouldsay that it was a lie, and that you had shot the man yourself, and Ihad got you out of the way by sending you across to France in a lugger,so I think you will see that it is best to keep a quiet tongue in yourhead; anyhow I am ready to take my chance of it."
"They will be horribly alarmed when I don't get home to-night," Juliansaid.
"Well, they must be alarmed," the poacher said carelessly. "You haveinterfered in this business, which was none of yours, and you have gotto take the consequences; you may think yourself a lucky fellow that youare not by this time drifting about on the tideway."
"I feel that," Julian said; "and though I did not understand a word ofwhat you said, I am sure that it was owing to you that I am not there. Icould not have promised that I would never say a word to anyone aboutyou, because one can never tell how one may be placed; but, after whatyou have done, I think that I can safely promise that I will never goout of my way to denounce you."
"I don't want any promise about it," the poacher replied. "I have madeup my mind to leave Weymouth, for, after having been in jail two years,I shall always have the constables as well as the revenue men keepingtheir eye on me, so I had intended all along to take to the luggeragain, and live on board her as I did before, and I only stayed hereuntil I could settle accounts with Faulkner. I have no doubt that theywill suspect me of this business. There are plenty of men who know thatI had sworn to be even with him, and my disappearance is sure to be putdown to that. Now, in the next place, will you promise not to try toescape, because if you do, I will get them to take these ropes off you?I dare say you have been thinking that if you could get free you wouldmake a run for the mouth of the cave and dive in, for it is about highwater now."
Julian had, in fact, been thinking so, but as he saw that unless he gavehis promise he would have to remain in the cords that were cutting intohis wrists, he at once took the required oath. Joe told the Frenchmen,and they then unfastened Julian's cords.
"We may as well carry up the bales at once," their leader said, "beforeit gets dark. It is no use giving anyone at sea a chance of seeing alight. Tell him to take one and come up with us. I am not going to leavehim here by himself, promise or no promise."
The poacher translated the order to Julian. Some bales were taken outfrom beneath a tarpaulin at the end of the cave, and, each shoulderingone, they proceeded up the passage until they reached the foot of theladder. Here they laid the bales down, and then returned to the cave.
"Is that all?" Julian asked.
"Yes, those bales are worth a lot of money. There is fifteen hundredpounds worth of lace in one of them. The others are silks and satins,and worth another five hundred. To-night, when we hear the signal, I andthree of the Frenchmen will go up. We shall find two men there, andshall carry the bales to a place a mile and a half away, where they willbe hidden until it is convenient to send them up to London, or whereverthey are going to dispose of them--that is their business; ours isfinished when they hand us over the money for them. They will come ateight o'clock, and at ten the lugger will be off the coast here and senda boat ashore for us. So you have got five or six hours yet, and Ishould say the best thing you can do is to turn in and sleep till then.There are plenty of blankets in that corner and a pile of sheep-skinsthat you can sleep on."
Julian nodded, threw two or three of the sheep-skins down in a corner,rolled another up for a pillow, drew a blanket over him, and for thefirst time looked round the cave. It was lighted only by a small holeused as a look-out; at present a blanket hung before this. There was adoor similar to that by which he had entered from above leading to thelower cave. How far that lower entrance might be below them Julian hadno means of knowing, but from the view he had obtained of the seathrough a large loop-hole he had passed in his descent, he did not thinkthat the cavern he was in could be less than seventy or eighty feetabove the water. The sole ventilation, as far as he could see, was thecurrent of air that found its way in through the door from below, andpassed up through that above, and what could come in through theloop-hole seawards. Doubtless in warmer weather both the doors stoodopen, but were now closed more for warmth than for any other purpose,although he had noticed that the lower one had been bolted and lockedafter he had been first captured.
As he lay down he wondered how it was all going to end. His position wasat once perilous and uncertain. He had, so far, escaped better than hecould have expected, for from the looks the Frenchmen had given him, hehad no doubt what his fate would have been had not the man he had beenchasing spoken in his favour. His life therefore seemed for the presentsafe, but the future was very dark. The poacher had spoken as if he wasnot likely to return for some years. They surely could not intend tokeep him on board ship all that time. Could they mean to put him uponsome vessel sailing abroad? What a way Frank and his aunt would be in!They would learn that he had started for home early in the afternoon,and it would be absolutely certain that he could not have strayed fromthe road nor met with any accident coming along the valley. It wouldcertainly be awkward his being missed on the same day Faulkner had beenshot, especially as, according to the time he had started for home, hewould have come along the road somewhere about the time the magistratewas shot.
It was a horrible thought that suspicion might fall upon him. Those whoknew him would be sure that he could have had nothing whatever to dowith the murder; still, the more he thought of it the more he felt thatsuspicions were certain to rise, and that he would find it extremelydifficult to explain matters on his return. The memory of his quarrelwith the magistrate was fresh in everybody's mind, and even his friendsmight well consider it singular that his words to Faulkner should sosoon have been carried into effect. It is true that Joe Markham would bemissing too, and that the man's own acquaintances would have no greatdifficulty in guessing that he had carried out his threats againstFaulkner, but they would certainly not communicate their opinion to theconstables, and the latter might not think of the man in connection withthe murder, nor notice that he was no longer to be seen about the town.
Even were he himself free to leave the cave now and return to Weymouth,he would find himself in a most awkward position. There was, of course,no shadow of evidence against him save that he was known to havequarrelled with Faulkner, and must have been very near the spot themoment he was killed, but how could he explain six or seven hours'absence? He could but say that he had caught sight of a man in theplantation and followed him for miles among the hills, and had lostsight of him at last. He had not a shadow of evidence to produce inconfirmation of his story; in fact there was no direct evidence eitherway. There could be no doubt he would have to remain under a cloud ofsuspicion. It was bad enough before, but this would be altogetherintolerable, and it was perhaps best, after all, that he was to be takenaway, and his future decided for him.
He should have gone anyhow, and no doubt he would be able to get someopportunity of writing to Frank and setting his mind at rest as to hissafety, and telling him something about what had happened, and that hehad been kidnapped and carried over to France. He had acted like a fool,no doubt, but Frank would understand why he had followed his firstimpulse and gone alone after the man who committed the murder, insteadof going to the constables and telling them that some unknown man hadkilled the magistrate. One thing seemed certain, he should never be ableto go back to Weymouth again unless the affair was cleared up, and hedid not see how that ever could be.
At this point Julian's thoughts became confused. The voices of the mentalking at the table seemed to get further and further away, and then hewas conscious of nothing more until he heard a bell tinkle faintlys
omewhere overhead. There was a movement in the cave, and he sat up. Allthe men went out by the upper door. When they had left he got up andwent to see if the lower door was so fastened that he could not open it.He had no idea of breaking his word, but did so out of curiosity ratherthan from any other feeling. He found that the bolts could be pulledback, but that the lock was a very strong one, and the jamb was, at thepoint where the bolt shot into it, covered with a piece of iron, so thatno instrument could be used for forcing back the bolt.
"It may be," he thought, "that some other prisoner has been confinedhere at some time or other, or possibly this has been done in order thatif the trap-door above should be found, and the revenue men come downthat way, the smugglers in their flight might lock the door behind themand so have time to get away in a boat or along at the foot of thecliffs before their pursuers could get down to the lower entrance andopen fire upon them."
Then he lay down again. He wondered whether the pull of the bell he hadheard could be hidden in the grass like the handle of the trap. It mightonly be a very small knob, but he had looked so closely among thebushes that he wondered it had escaped him. In three or four minutes theFrench captain came down again, and walked across to where he was lying:
"_Pauvre diable!_" he muttered, and then went back to the table, filledhimself a glass of spirits and water, and lit his pipe. A moment later athought seemed to strike him, and he came across to Julian again andtouched him. He at once sat up. The Frenchman motioned him to come tothe table, went to a cupboard, brought out a wooden platter with a largelump of cold beef and a loaf of bread and some cheese, poured him out ahorn of brandy and water, and motioned him to eat. Julian attacked thefood vigorously. He had had some lunch with his friends before startingfor his walk back to Weymouth, but that had been nearly seven hoursbefore, and his run across the hills in the keen air had given him asharp appetite, so he did full justice to the food.
"This is not a bad fellow after all," he said to himself, as thesmuggler, when he had finished, brought out a box of cigars and placedit before him. "He would have knocked me on the head withoutcompunction, in the way of business; but now when he has concluded thatI am not dangerous, he comes out as a good fellow." He nodded pleasantlyto the Frenchman as he lit the cigar, which was an excellent one, andfar better than any Julian had been accustomed to smoke with hisassociates in the billiard room.
The Frenchman's thoughts were not dissimilar to his own. "He is a brave_garcon_," he said to himself, "and makes the best of things. He is afine-looking fellow, too, and will be a big man in another year or two.It is a misfortune that we have got to take him and shut him up inprison. Why did he mix himself up in this affair of Markham? That is theway with boys. Instead of being grateful to the man that had killed hisenemy, he must needs run after him as if he had done him an injury.Well, it can't be helped now; but, at least, I will make him ascomfortable as I can as long as he is on board the lugger."
In another half hour Joe Markham returned with the French sailors."There is a big stir down in Weymouth," he said to Julian. "I heard fromour friend that the place is like a hive of bees. I tell you, Mr. Wyatt,that it is a lucky thing for you that you found the trap-door and camedown here. You mayn't like being our prisoner; but it is a lot betterthan being in a cell down in Weymouth with a charge of murder hangingover you, which you would have been if you had gone straight backagain."
"A charge of murder!" Julian repeated, springing to his feet. "How couldsuch a charge be brought? It could not have been known so soon that Iwas missing. I must go back and face it. If I run away, now I have beenopenly accused, everyone will make sure of my guilt."
"Well, sir, I should say it is a sight better that they should suspectyou, and you safely over in France, than that they should suspect youwith you in their hands; but at any rate, you see you have no choice inthe matter. You could only clear yourself by bringing me into it; thoughI doubt, as things have turned out, that that would help you a bit."
"I warn you that I shall make my escape, and come back again as soon asI can," Julian said passionately.
"Well, sir, if you have a fancy for hanging, of course you can do so;but from what I hear, hanging it would be, as sure as you stand there.There is a warrant out against you, and the constables are scouring allthe country."
"But what possible ground can they have to go upon except that smugglingaffair?"
"Well, if what our friend told me is true, they have very good grounds,as they think, to go on. He was talking with one of the constables, andhe told him that Faulkner is not dead yet, though he ain't expected tolast till morning. His servants came out to look for him when the horsecame back to the house without him. A man rode into Weymouth for thedoctor, and another went to Colonel Chambers and Mr. Harrington. By thetime they got there Faulkner was conscious, and they took his dyingdeposition. He said that he had had a row with you a short distancebefore he had got to his gate, and that you said you would be even withhim. As he was riding up through the wood to his house, he suddenlyheard a gun and at the same moment fell from his horse. A minute lateryou came out from the wood at the point where the shot had been fired.You had a gun in your hand. Feeling sure that your intention was toascertain if he was done for, and to finish him off if you found that hewas not, he shut his eyes and pretended to be dead. You stooped overhim, and then made off at full speed. Now, sir, that will be awkwardevidence to get over, and you must see that you will be a long way saferin France than you would in Weymouth."
Julian sank down, crushed by the blow. He saw that what the poacher saidwas true. What would his unsupported assertion go for as against thedying man's deposition? No doubt Faulkner had stated what he believed tobe the truth, though he might not have given quite a fair account ofwhat had taken place in the road; still, there would be nocross-examining him as to what had passed there, and his statement wouldstand unchallenged. As things now stood, Julian's own story that he hadpursued a man over the hills, and had lost him, would, whollyunsupported as it was, be received with absolute incredulity. He hadbeen at the spot certainly at the time. He had had words with Faulkner;he had had a gun in his hands; he had come out and leaned over thewounded man within less than a minute of the shot being fired. The chainof evidence against him seemed to be complete, and he sat appalled atthe position in which he found himself.
"Look here, youngster," the poacher said, "it is a bad job, and I don'tsay it isn't. I am sorry for you, but I ain't so sorry as to go and givemyself up and get hung in your place; but I'll tell you what I will do.When I get across to France I will draw up a statement and swear itbefore a magistrate, giving an account of the whole affair, and I willput it in a tin case and always carry it about with me. I will direct itto Colonel Chambers, and whenever anything happens to me it shall besent to him. I am five-and-twenty years older than you are, and the lifeI lead ain't likely to give me old age. To make matters safer, I willhave two copies made of my statement--one I will leave in the hands ofone of our friends here. The craft I am in may be wrecked some day, orsunk by one of the cutters; anyhow, whichever way it comes, he iscertain to hear of my death, and I shall tell him that when he hears ofit he is to send that letter to Chambers."
"Thank you," Julian said earnestly. "It may not come for a long time,but it will be something for me to know that some day or other my namewill be cleared of this horrible accusation; but I would rather havegone and faced it out now."
"It would be just suicide," the man said. "Weymouth ain't the only placein the world; and it is better for you to live out of it, and know youwill get cleared some day, than to get hung, with only the consolationthat perhaps twenty years hence they may find out they have made amistake."
"It isn't so much myself I am thinking of as my brother and aunt. Mygoing away and never sending them a word will be like confessing myguilt. It will ruin my brother's life, and kill my aunt."
"Well, I'll tell you what I will do," Markham said. "You shall write aletter to your brother, and tell him your story, exce
pt, of course,about this cave. You can say you followed me, and that I and somesmugglers sprang on you and captured you, and have carried you across toFrance. All the rest you can tell just as it happened. I don't know asit will do me any harm. Your folks may believe it, but no one else islikely to do so. I don't mean to go back to Weymouth again, and if I didthat letter would not be evidence that anyone would send me to trial on.Anyhow, I will risk that."
"Thank you, with all my heart," Julian said gratefully. "I shall not somuch mind, if Frank and Aunt get my story. I know that they will believeit if no one else does, and they can move away from Weymouth to someplace where it will not follow them. It won't be so hard for me to bearthen, especially if some day the truth gets to be known. Only pleasedirect your letters to 'Colonel Chambers, or the Chairman of theWeymouth magistrates,' because he is at least ten years older than youare, and might die long before you, and the letter might never be openedif directed only to him."
"Right you are, lad. I will see to that."
Just at this moment one of the sailors came down from the look-outabove, and said that the signal had just been made from the offing, andthat the lugger's boat would be below in a quarter of an hour. Allprepared for departure; the lower door was unbolted, the lightsextinguished, and they went down to the lower entrance. It was reachedby a staircase cut in the chalk, and coming down into a long and narrowpassage, at the further end of which was the opening Julian had seenfrom the sea. The party gathered at the entrance. In a few minutes aboat with muffled oars approached silently; a rope was lowered, a nooseat its upper end being placed over a short iron bar projecting three orfour inches from the chalk a foot or two inside the entrance.
The French captain went down first. Julian was told to follow. Thesailors and Markham then descended. A sharp jerk shook the rope off thebar, and the boat then rowed out to the smuggler, which was lying half amile from shore. As soon as they were on board the sails were sheetedhome, and the craft began to steal quietly through the water, towing theboat behind it. The whole operation had been conducted in perfectsilence. The men were accustomed to their work; there was no occasionfor orders, and it was not until they were another mile out that a wordwas spoken.
"All has gone off well," the captain then said. "We got the laces andsilks safely away, and the money has been paid for them. The revenuecutter started early this morning, and was off Lyme Regis thisafternoon, so we shall have a clear run out. We will keep on the coursewe are laying till we are well beyond the race, and then make for thewest. We have sent word for them to be on the look-out for us at the oldplace near Dartmouth to-morrow night, and if we are not there then, thenight after; if there is danger, they are to send up a rocket from thehill inland."
The wind was but light, and keeping a smart look-out for Britishcruisers, and lowering their sails down once or twice when a suspicioussail was seen in the distance, they approached the rocky shore some twomiles east of the entrance to the bay at ten o'clock on the secondevening after starting. A lantern was raised twice above the bulwark,kept there for an instant, and then lowered.
"I expect it is all right," the captain said, "or they would have sentup a rocket before this. Half-past eight is the time arranged, and Ithink we are about off the landing place. Ah, yes, there is the signal!"he broke off as a light was shown for a moment close down to the water'sedge. "Yes, there it is again! Lower the anchor gently; don't let itsplash."
A light anchor attached to a hawser was silently let down into thewater.
"Now, off with the hatches; get up the kegs."
While some of the men were engaged at this work, others lowered thesecond boat, and this, and the one towing behind, were brought round tothe side. Julian saw that all the men were armed with cutlasses, and hadpistols in their belts. Rapidly the kegs were brought up on deck andlowered into the boat.
"Ah, here comes Thompson," the captain said, as a very small boat rowedup silently out of the darkness. "Well, my friend, is all safe?" heasked in broken English as the boat came alongside.
"Safe enough, captain. Most of the revenue men have gone round from hereto the other side of the bay, where they got news, as they thought, thata cargo was going to be run. The man on duty here has been squared, andwill be away at the other end of his beat. The carts are ready, aquarter of a mile away. I made you out with my glass just before sunset,and sent round word at once to our friends to be in readiness."
The boats started as soon as their cargoes were on board, and the workwent on uninterruptedly for the next two hours, by which time the lastkeg was on shore, and the boats returned to the lugger. The men were inhigh spirits. The cargo had been a valuable one, and the whole had beengot rid of without interruption. The boats were at once hoisted up, theanchor weighed, and the lugger made her way out to sea.
"What port do you land at?" Julian asked Markham.
"We shall go up the Loire to Nantes," he replied; "she hails from there.To-morrow morning you had best put on that sailor suit I gave youto-day. Unless the wind freshens a good deal we sha'n't be there forthree or four days, but I fancy, from the look of the sky, that it willblow up before morning, and, as likely as not, we shall get more than wewant by evening. There is generally a cruiser or two off the mouth ofthe river. In a light wind we can show them our heels easily enough, butif it is blowing at all their weight tells. I am glad to be at seaagain, lad, after being cooped up in that cursed prison for two years.It seems to make a new man of one. I don't know but that I am sorry Ishot that fellow. I don't say that he didn't deserve it, for he did; butI don't see it quite so strongly as I did when I was living on bread andwater, and with nothing to do but to think of how I could get even withhim when I got out; besides, I never calculated upon getting anyone elseinto a mess, and I am downright sorry that I got you into one, Mr.Wyatt. However, the job is done, and it is no use crying over spiltmilk."
Markham's prediction turned out correct. A fresh wind was blowing by themorning, and two days later the lugger was running along, close underthe coast, fifteen miles south of the mouth of the Loire, having keptthat course in order to avoid any British cruisers that might be off themouth of the river. Before morning they had passed St. Nazaire, and wererunning up the Loire.