Listen--von vort for all. I have faith in you bose, but no, it cannot be. You cannot go back, so you must act like ze man now."

"Then you are going to take us away?" cried Vince.

"I 'ave take you avay, my boy, and I sall not let you go back till I no longer vant ze cavern store, and ze safe place to hide. Zen you may go back--if you like."

"What do you mean by that?" said Vince quickly.

"Vat I say: if you like. I sink by zat time you bose say to me, '_Non_, Monsieur Jacques, ve do not vant to go.' Now I talk no more. Down vis you!"

"Only tell us one thing," said Vince: "where are you going to take us?"

"I tell you ven I can," said the captain.

"What do you mean by that?" cried Mike excitedly.

"Vat I say. I do not know."

He pressed them towards the hatchway, and they descended, feeling that they could do nothing else, while the captain followed and opened a door opposite to that of the cabin.

"Zere," he said. "You can sleep in zose bunk. I keep zat for my friend, and I give zem to mine _ennemi_, you see. I vill not lock ze door, but you listen, bose of you. I am ze capitaine, and I am _le roi_--ze king here. If a man say he vill not, I knock him down. If he get up and pull out ze knife, I take ze pistol and shoot: I am _dangereux_. If I hear ze strange noise, I shoot. Don't you make ze strange noise in ze night, _mes amis_, but go sleep, as you _Anglais_ say, like ze sound of two top hummin. You understand. _Bon soir_! You come to ze _dejeuner_--breakfast in ze morning."

He shut them in, and the two boys were left in the darkness to their thoughts. But they were too weary to think much, and soon felt their way into their bunks, one above the other.

An hour later the door was softly opened, and a lanthorn was thrust in, the captain following to look at each face in turn.

There was no sham this time. Utterly worn out by the excitement of the past hours, Vince and Mike were both off--fast in the heavy, dreamless, restful slumber of sixteen--the sleep in which Nature winds up a boy's mainspring terse and tight, and makes him ready to go on, rested and fresh, for the work of another day.

CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE.

HOW SOME FOLK TURN SMUGGLERS.

The sea was up before the boys next morning, and in its own special way was making the _cha.s.se-maree_ pitch and toss, now rising up one side of a wave, now gliding down the other; for the wind had risen towards morning, and was now blowing so hard that quite half the sail hoisted overnight had had to be taken down, leaving the swift vessel staggering along beneath the rest.

Vince turned out feeling a bit puzzled and confused, for he did not quite grasp his position; but the full swing of thought came, with all its depressing accompaniments, and he roused up Mike to bear his part and help to condole as well.

Mike, on the contrary, turned out of his bunk fully awake to their position, and began to murmur at once bitterly as he went on dressing, till at last Vince turned upon him.

"I say," he said, "it's of no use to make worse of it."

"No one can," cried Mike.

"Oh, can't they? Why, you're doing your part."

"I'm only saying that it's abominable and outrageous, and that I wish the old lugger may be wrecked. Here, I say, what have you been doing with my clothes?"

"Haven't touched 'em."

"But you must have touched them. I folded them up, and put them together, and they're pitched all over the place. Where are my boots?"

"Servant girl's fetched 'em out to clean, perhaps," said Vince quietly.

"Eh? Think so? Well, they did want it.--Get out! I don't see any need for jeering at our position here. Just as if I didn't know better!

Here, you must have got them on."

"Not I! Even if I wanted to, one of your great ugly boots would be big enough for both of my feet."

"Do you want to quarrel, Cinder?" said Mike roughly.

"Not here. Isn't room enough. There are your boots, one on each side of the door in the corners of the cabin."

"Then you must have kicked them there, and--"

Mike did not finish, for the lugger gave such a lurch that the boy went in a rush against the opposite bulkhead with a heavy bang.

"Didn't kick you there, at all events," said Vince, who was fastening his last b.u.t.tons.

"Why, the sea's getting up," said Mike. "Has it been blowing up above?"

"Haven't been on deck, but it has been alarming down here. I had a horrible job to find my things. They were all over the place."

"How horrid! And what a miserable place to dress in!"

"Better than a sandbank in a seal's hole."

"Oh! don't talk about it."

"Why not? It's over. Deal better off than we have been lately, for we have got an invitation to breakfast."

"I wish you wouldn't do that, Cinder," said Mike querulously.

"Do what? I didn't do anything."

"Now you're at it again, trying to cut jokes and making the best of things at a time like this."

"All right: I'm silent, then," said Vince. "Shall I go on deck?"

"Go? what for?"

"Leave you more room to dress."

"It will be very shabby if you do go before I'm dressed. If ever two fellows were bound to stick together it's us now. Oh dear, how awkward everything is! I say, there's no danger, is there?" cried Mike, as the lugger gave a tremendous plunge and then seemed to wallow down among the waves.

"No, I don't see what danger there can be. Seems a beautifully built boat, and I daresay Jacques is a capital sailor."

"A scoundrel!" said Mike bitterly.

"Now, _mes enfans_, get up," cried the skipper's voice; and this was followed by a smart banging at the door, which was opened and a head thrust in.