Give my love to
Sister and take care o' the kegs. It's thicking to southward."
'I remember him waving to us and young Stephen L'Estrange
blowing out the lantern. By the time we'd fished up the kegs the
fog came down so thick Dad judged it risky for me to row 'em
ashore, even though we could hear the ponies stamping on the
beach. So he and Uncle Lot took the dinghy and left me in the
smack playing on my fiddle to guide 'em back.
'Presently I heard guns. Two of 'em sounded mighty like
Uncle Aurette's three-pounders. He didn't go naked about the
seas after dark. Then come more, which I reckoned was Captain
Giddens in the Revenue cutter. He was open-handed with his
compliments, but he would lay his guns himself. I stopped fiddling
to listen, and I heard a whole skyful o' French up in the fog -
and a high bow come down on top o' the smack. I hadn't time to
call or think. I remember the smack heeling over, and me
standing on the gunwale pushing against the ship's side as if I
hoped to bear her off. Then the square of an open port, with a
lantern in it, slid by in front of my nose. I kicked back on our
gunwale as it went under and slipped through that port into the
French ship - me and my fiddle.
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