"Well, I should. Of all the old rascals that I ever heard of he seems to be about the worst. Why, he's regularly mixed up with this gang.

Did you hear? It seems that you can only get in and out at certain times of the tide, and n.o.body knows how to pilot any one in but old Joe Daygo."

"Did you understand it to be like that?" said Mike eagerly.

"Yes, he seems to be the regular pilot, and comes to take this French lugger in and to steer it out among the rocks. Oh, it's terrible; and we've got old Joe to blame for all our troubles. I wish we'd sunk his boat."

"Shouldn't we have sunk ourselves too?"

"Well, perhaps. I should like to drop something through its bottom."

"I shouldn't," said Mike quietly. "Why not? It would serve him well right."

"Because I should like to use it ourselves."

"Eh? What do you mean?" said Vince excitedly. "Now, younkers," said a voice behind them, "skipper says I'm to show you two to your bunks."

It was a rough, hairy-faced fellow who spoke to them, though in the darkness they did not get a very good view of his features.

"To our bunks?" said Vince.

"Yes; come along. You're lucky: you've got a place all to yourselves."

He led them aft, to where a small hatchway stood, close to that of the captain's cabin, from whence the sound of voices came so loudly that, regardless of his companions' presence, the man stood and listened.

"But I tell you I must go back, skipper," said Daygo, "and it's getting late."

"_Oui_--yais, I know zat, _mon ami_," said the captain; "but I have ze good pilot on board, and it is late and ver' bad for him to go sail among ze rock and courant. I say it is better he sall stay all ze night, and not go run ze risk to drown himselfs. I cannot spare you. I have you, Daygo. You are a so much valuable mans. So I sall keep you till I sail."

"Keep me?" growled Daygo.

"Yais. You sall eat all as mosh as you vish, and drink more as you vish, but you cannot go avay. It is not safe."

There was the sound of a heavy fist brought down upon the table, and then the man, who had picked up a lanthorn, turned to them and said,--

"Down with you, youngsters!"

The boys obeyed, and the man followed.

"Old Daygo don't like having to stay," he said laughingly. "There you are, lads!--just room for you both without touching. Shall I leave you the lanthorn?"

"Please," said Vince. "Thank you.--I say--"

"Nay, you don't, lad," said the man, with gruff good humour; "you've nothing to say to me, and I've nothing to say to you. I don't want the skipper to come down on my head with a capstan bar. Here, both on you: just a word as I will say--Don't you be sarcy to the skipper. He's Frenchy, and he's got a temper of his own, so just you mind how you trim your boats. There, good-night."

"One moment," said Vince, in a quick whisper.

_Bang_! went the door, and they heard a hasp put over a staple and a padlock rattled in.

"Here, youngsters!" came through the door.

"What is it?"

"Mind you put out that light when you're in your bunks. Good-night!"

"Good-night," said Mike.

"Bad night," said Vince. And then: "Oh, Ladle, old chap, what shall we do?"

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE.

LONGINGS FOR LIBERTY.

It was easier to ask that question than to answer it, and they cast a brief glance round the bare, cupboard-like place, with its two shelves, which represented the prisoners' beds, each bearing a small horsehair mattress and a French cotton blanket.

"Put out the light," was all the answer Vince received; and, after holding it to the side of the place for a moment or two, he opened the lanthorn door and blew the candle out.

"No good to keep that in. Only makes the place hot and stuffy. I'm going to open that light."

The "light" was a sort of wooden shutter, which took the place of an ordinary cabin window, and as soon as he had drawn it wide open the soft night air entered in a delicious puff.

"Hah! that's better," sighed Vince. "Come here and breathe, Ladle, old chap. It's of no use to smother ourselves if we are miserable. I say, isn't it a beautiful night?"

"Who's going to think anything beautiful when one's like this? It's horrible!"

"Pst!" whispered Vince, for the voice of the captain was plainly heard overhead, and the deep growl of old Daygo in answer, the way in which the tones grew more subdued suggesting that the speakers had gone right forward.

"I should like to pitch that old villain overboard," said Mike, in a fierce whisper.

"Well, if you'd let me tie a rope round him first I'd help you, Ladle; but I shouldn't like him to drown till he'd had time to get a little better."

"Better?" said Mike: "he'll never grow any better."

"Well, never mind him," said Vince. "Now then, let's look the state of affairs in the face. You won't tell us what to do, so I must see what I can think of."

"Have you thought of anything?" cried Mike eagerly.

"If you shout like that, it won't be much good if I have," said Vince, in an angry whisper.

"I'm very sorry, Vince," said Mike humbly. "I'll be more careful."

"We shan't get away if you're not."

"Get away? Then you see a chance?" cried Mike eagerly.

"Just the tiniest spark of one if you're ready to try."