Chapter VII: Part 7

"You do, do you, you young rascal! Well, Jack, I'll tell you. Gudgeon is a sly old dog. He's the smuggler hereabouts--but behind the scenes. His smoking chimney was the signal by day, as Fronsac's, it seems, was by night. But he's not a traitor; he knew nothing of Fronsac's double scheme, I warrant. He's a smuggler simply. Why, Jack, he has supplied me with smuggled brandy for years; so he does the parson at Wickham. The stuff you're drinking was smuggled; the lace your cousin Sylvia is wearing came from Valenciennes, and paid no duty. I'm afraid I must give it up now, my boy. There's not a squire on the seaboard but thinks it no harm; but with a cousin a gallant king's officer--yes, I must give it up." He sighed. "And I think I'd better go and see Gudgeon in the morning."

"He'll be transported, as sure as a gun," said Jack.

"Well, I don't think we'll go that length. You can't prove anything against him, you see. He's too sly for that--and--well, it might be awkward for more than one of us."

"All right, cousin," said Jack, laughing. "But there's another thing. That fellow who was wounded in the Hollow! De Fronsac shot him, I'm sure; I never told you that Arthur and I saw him bundled into a lugger that night we followed De Fronsac from the house."

"That's a mystery. I can't explain it. And it doesn't matter much, now that De Fronsac is gone. By George, Jack! I fancy you've killed smuggling at Luscombe--for some time, at any rate. Now to bed. We'll have another talk in the morning."

Jack was up early, in spite of the lateness of the hour when he went to bed. He was at breakfast alone with Mr. Bastable when Mr. Goodman was announced.

"Good morning, sir. Good morning, Mr. Hardy. I've come to you as a justice of the peace, Mr. Bastable. You've heard of our little exploit last night?"

"You were in at the death, I believe. Well, sir?"

"Well, sir, we went to the Hollow this morning to seize the goods we understood were hidden there. In the summer-house we found a man, sir; I have him outside now. He tried to run away; but we collared him, and as he wouldn't give an account of himself I've brought him along. Perhaps you'll commit him as a rogue and vagabond."

"Bring him in, Mr. Goodman."

The riding-officer returned with a heavy, undersized, beetle-browed fellow, in very tattered garb.

"Why, 'tis the very man!" cried Jack. "This is the man De Fronsac shot."

"De Fronsac!" growled the man, with gleaming eyes. "Where is he?"

"No longer in this world, my man," said Mr. Bastable. "Now, who are you? Give a good account of yourself, or I shall have to commit you."

The man showed no hesitation now. He explained that he had been employed in London by a French family through whom De Fronsac obtained much of the information he signaled to France. Having discovered this fact, he had come down to Luscombe to levy blackmail on the spy; the consequences were as Jack had related. He had returned to England--there were means of coming and going between the two countries even in that time of war--to wreak vengeance on De Fronsac, and was lying in wait at the summer-house when the preventives appeared on the scene.

"There's your mystery unraveled," said Mr. Bastable, turning to Jack. Then to the Frenchman he said: "We'll send you off to London, my man; 'tis for folk there to deal with you."

After breakfast, Jack walked over to Gumley's cottage. He wanted to know how De Fronsac had escaped, and was prepared to read Gumley a lecture for his lax guardianship. But he found the old sailor so desperately upset at the trick played upon him, that he had not the heart to add to his chagrin.

"Only to think of it, sir!" said Gumley, thumping the table. "Poetry! All my eye and Betty Martin! Why, when he got that there candle, he stood upon this here table"--another thump--"and burned away the ends o' the matchboards up aloft where they was nailed to the beams. No wonder I smelled smoke! And he showed me a hole in the tablecloth! Then he pried up the boards, got up into the attic, out by the trap-door on to the roof, and when Comely and me was a-nosing round here in the smoke, chok' it all! Mounseer was down the rain-pipe and under full sail for the road. Never have I bin so done afore, sir, and in the king's name, too."

"Never mind, Joe. You came after him like a Briton, and if you and Comely hadn't arrived on the scene when you did, I'm afraid there would have been a different story to tell the admiral to-day. I'm going to Portsmouth this afternoon. And I'll take care the admiral knows about your pluck and your stanchness as a king's man under persecution."

"Thank 'ee kindly, sir. And you won't forget to say a word for Comely, sir?"

"Not I. Comely and Gumley--a fine pair of warriors. Good-by."

When Jack got back to the Grange, he found that the squire had paid his promised visit to Mr. Gudgeon. Mr. Bastable laughed as he related the interview.

"He had the flutters very badly, Jack. I put it to him as delicately as I could. Said that recent events had given the neighborhood a bad name, especially as it had been found that some one had been selling information to the French. Suspicion might easily fall on the wrong person, I said; and I wound up by suggesting that when next winter comes he should see that his chimneys are swept regularly. The old rascal! 'Oh dear me!' says he, 'to think that a quiet law-abiding village like Luscombe should have harbored a French spy! It puts me in a terrible flutter, Cognac is the best cure I know, sir; maybe you'll do me the honor to take a sip with me?' and the rascal gave me a glass, Jack; contraband--capital stuff!"

"He'll be careful in future, I reckon, cousin. I must run over to Portsmouth after lunch and report to Admiral Horniman. I suppose I'd better keep Gudgeon's name out?"

"Certainly, my lad. You've snuffed out smuggling here--for the present; it is bound to begin again some day; but you may depend upon it that for a long time to come we're all king's men here, Gudgeon included."

It was a fortnight before Jack returned to the Grange. Then he came in a high state of excitement.

"Admiral Horniman is a jolly old brick!" he cried, after greeting his cousins. "What do you think he's done?"

"Resigned in your favor, Jack?"

"Pretty nearly!" returned Jack with a laugh. "No, he's written up a thumping report to the lords of the Admiralty, and got 'em to 'do a thing that's as rare as--as--"

"As Jack Hardys. Well!"

"Why, to let me off three years' service as a mid, and also the examination for lieutenant. Look here! here's my commission!" He flourished a paper, and cried for three cheers for Admiral Horniman. "And that's not all. I've got no end of prize-money for capturing the French brig, and retaking the _Fury_, and collaring the smugglers' stuff. My share alone comes to over a thousand pounds. And they've taken two French privateers and sunk another off Fowey. The signals worked splendidly; they were trying to cut out a disabled ship that wasn't there! The admiral's going to put in a claim to prize-money for me. He is a brick!"

"Oh, I say!" cried Arthur. "Don't I wish I was you!"

"I'm glad for dad's sake. He hasn't been over well off since he had to retire from the East India Company's service, owing to that wretched illness of his, and I'm afraid he had to pinch a bit for me. But now that's all changed. I shan't cost him another penny piece."

"Bravo! Arthur, you young dog, remember that, and hand over a thousand pounds to me when I'm bound for the poorhouse. Well, Jack, I congratulate you, my boy."

"But that's not all, cousin. I've kept the best for the last. Open your eyes! I'm appointed to the _Victory_, and sail to join Nelson in a week! Won't we pepper the French! Won't we win a glorious victory! Oh! cousin, isn't it the finest thing in the world to serve your king and country!"

"If you please, sir," said the butler, putting his head in at the door, "Joe Gumley is outside, asking for Mr. Hardy."

"Show him in," cried Mr. Bastable.

"Arternoon, sir," said Gumley, stumping in with the bulldog at his heels. He held his glazed hat clumsily, and looked not quite at ease. "I be come over for two things, Squire; number one, to say thank'ee to Mr. Hardy; number two, to axe a question."

"Never mind about number one, Gumley," said Jack. "Heave away at number two."

"Begging your pardon, sir, one always comes afore two, and ye can't alter nature. I take it kindly, sir, and I thank 'ee from the bottom of my heart, for your goodness to a' old mariner what has only one leg sound and rheumatiz in both. Here I've got, sir, a paper, and as near as I can make it out--'tis terrible writing for a admiral, to be sure--Admiral Horniman says he has great pleasure in app'inting Joseph Gumley watchman at the dockyard, ten shillings a week, cottage and rum free. I know who done that: Admiral Horniman would never ha' heard o' Joe Gumley but for Mr. Hardy. God bless 'ee, sir, for remembering of a poor wooden-legged old sailor what had to take to growing artichokes and other landlubbers' thingummies in the king's name."

"The admiral couldn't have found a better man," said Mr. Bastable, to cover Jack's confusion. "But what's number two?"

"Number two is this, sir. Do this here app'intment take in Comely? 'Cos if it don't with all respecks to Mr. Hardy and the admiral, I sticks to artichokes. Comely and Gumley--they sign on together."

"And nobody wants to split you, Gumley," said Jack. "Go and see the admiral, and take Comely with you--only hold him in, because the admiral's rather peppery, and Comely might made a mistake. He will know that with Comely and Gumley to watch it, the dockyard will be as safe as the rock of Gibraltar."

"Ay, ay, sir. Then we takes on that there app'intment. Comely and me--in the king's name."

THE END