Chapter 7: Pressed.
Many and deep were the maledictions uttered, as the smugglers climbed
on board their vessel; but their captain said cheerily:
"Never mind, lads, it might have been worse. It was only the first
cargo of tubs, and half of those weren't ashore. The lace and silk are
all right, so no great harm is done. Set to work, and get up sail as
soon as you can. Likely enough there is a cutter in the offing; that
blue light must have been a signal. They seem to have got news of our
landing, somehow."
The crew at once set to work to get up sail. Three or four of the
countrymen, who had, like James, got on board the boats, stood in a
group looking on, confused and helpless; but James lent his assistance,
until the sails were hoisted and the craft began to move through the
water.
"Now, then," the captain said, "let us go below and look at the wounds.
We daren't show a light, here on deck."
The wounds were, for the most part, slashes and blows with cutlasses;
for in the darkness and confusion of the fight, only two of the bullets
had taken effect. One of the smugglers had fallen, shot through the
head, while one of those on board had his arm broken by a pistol ball.
"Now for our passengers," the captain said, after the wounds had been
bandaged.
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