the “hovel” on deal beach—a storm brewing—plans to circumvent the smugglers.

on a calm, soft, beautiful evening, about a week after the events narrated in the last chapter, guy foster issued from sandhill cottage, and took his way towards the beach of deal.

it was one of those inexpressibly sweet, motionless evenings, in which one is inclined, if in ordinary health, to rejoice in one’s existence; and in which the christian is led irresistibly to join with the psalmist in praising god, “for his goodness, and for his wonderful works to the children of men.”

young foster’s thoughts ran for a considerable time in this latter channel; for he was one of those youthful christians whose love to our saviour does not easily grow cold. he was wont to read the bible as if he really believed it to be the word of god, and acted in accordance with its precepts with a degree of bold simplicity and trustfulness, that made him a laughing-stock to some, and a subject of surprise and admiration to others, of his companions and acquaintance. in short, he was a christian of a cheerful, straightforward stamp.

yet guy’s course was not all sunshine, neither was his conduct altogether immaculate. he was not exempt from the general rule, that “through much tribulation” men shall enter into the kingdom. as he walked along, rejoicing in his existence and in the beauty of that magnificent evening, a cloud would rise occasionally and call forth a sigh, as he recollected the polite intimation of his uncle, that he had extended his leave of absence ad infinitum! he could not shut his eyes to the fact that a brilliant mercantile career on which he had recently entered, and on which he might naturally look as the course cut out for him by providence, was suddenly closed against him for ever. he knew his uncle’s temper too well to expect that he would relent, and he felt that to retract a statement which he knew to be true, or to express regret for having boldly told the truth as he had done, was out of the question. besides, he was well aware that such a course would not now avail to restore him to his lost position. it remained, therefore, that, being without influential friends, he must begin over again and carve his own way in the world.

but what then? was this not the lot of hundreds of thousands? little time had been lost; he was young, and strong, and hearty. god had written, “commit thy way unto the lord, trust also in him, and he shall bring it to pass.” “whatever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might, as unto the lord, and not unto men.” under the influence of such thoughts the clouds cleared away from guy’s brow, and he raised his eyes, which for some minutes had been cast down, with a hopeful gaze to the heavens.

there he soon became lost in admiration of the clouds that were floating in masses of amber and gold; rising over each other—piled up, mass upon mass—grotesque sometimes in form, solid yet soft in aspect, and inexpressibly grand, as a whole, in their towering magnificence.

there were signs, however, among the gorgeous beauties of this cloud-land, that were significant to eyes accustomed to read the face of the sky. various lurid and luminous clouds of grey and indian-red hues told of approaching storm, and the men of deal knew that the sea, which just then pictured every cloud in its glassy depths as clearly as if there had been another cloud-land below its surface, would, ere long, be ruffled with a stiffish breeze; perhaps be tossed by a heavy gale.

men in general are not prone to meditate very deeply on what is going on around them beyond the reach of their own vision. this is natural and right to some extent. if we were to be deeply touched by the joys, sorrows, calamities, and incidents that at all times affect humanity, we should cease to enjoy existence. life would become a burden. the end of our creation would not be attained. yet there is an evil of an opposite kind which often mars our usefulness, and makes us unconsciously participators in acts of injustice. this evil is, partial ignorance of, and indifference to, much that goes on around us beyond the range of our vision, but which nevertheless claims our attention and regard.

every one who reflects will admit that it is pleasant to think, when we retire to rest, that a splendid system of police renders our home a place of safety, and that, although there are villains more than enough who would do their best to get at our purses and plate, we need not make ourselves uneasy so long as the stout guardians of the night are on the beat. do we not congratulate ourselves on this? and do we not pay the police-tax without grumbling, or at least with less grumbling than we vent when paying other taxes?

should it, good reader, be less a subject of pleasant contemplation that, when the midnight storm threatens to burst upon our shores, there are men abroad who are skilled in the perilous work of snatching its prey from the raging sea; that, when the howling gale rattles our windows and shakes our very walls, inducing us perchance to utter the mental prayer, “god have mercy on all who are on the sea this night,” that then—at that very time—the heroes of our coast are abroad all round the kingdom; strong in the possession of dauntless hearts and iron frames, and ready to plunge at any moment into the foaming sea to the rescue of life or property?

who can say, during any storm, that he may not be personally interested in the efforts of those heroes?

we knew a family, the members of which, like those of all the other families in the land, listened to the howling of that fearful storm which covered our shores with wrecks on the 25th of november, 1859. their thoughts were sad and anxious, as must be the case, more or less, with all who reflect that in such nights hundreds of human beings are certainly perishing on our shores. but ah! what would the feelings of that family have been had they known—as they soon came to know—that two stalwart brothers of their own went down that night among the 450 human beings who perished in the wreck of the “royal charter?”

in regard to the “royal charter,” it may be truly said that there was no necessity for the loss of that vessel. god did not send direct destruction upon her. the engines were too weak to work her off the land in the face of the gale, and the cables could not hold her. these were among the causes of her loss. and when she did get ashore, every life might have been saved had there been a lifeboat or rocket apparatus at hand. we know not why there were neither; but may it not have been because lifeboats and rockets are not sufficiently numerous all along our shores? how many bleeding hearts there were that would have given drops of their life-blood to have provided the means of saving life on the coast of anglesea on that terrible night! a few small coins given at an earlier date might have saved those lives! no individual in the land, however far removed from the coast, can claim exemption from the dangers of the sea. his own head may indeed lie safe from the raging billow, but at any moment the sea may grasp some loved one, and thus wreck his peace of mind, or engulf his property and wreck his fortune. why, then, should not the whole nation take the affairs of the coast nearer to its heart? the lifeboat institution is not supported by taxation like our police force. it depends on the charity of the people. don’t you think, reader, that it has a strong claim on the sympathies, the prayers, and the purse of every living soul in the kingdom? but to return, with many apologies, from this digression.

guy foster noted the peculiar appearance of the clouds, and concluded that “something was brewing.” all along the shores stout men in glazed and tarry garments noted the same appearances, and also concluded that it would be dirty weather before long. the lifeboat men, too, were on the qui vive; and, doubtless, the coxswain of each boat, from john o’ groat’s to the land’s-end, was overhauling his charge to see that all was right and in readiness for instant service.

“it’s going to blow to-night, bax,” said guy, on entering the hovel of the former.

“so ’tis,” replied bax, who was standing beside his friends bluenose and tommy bogey, watching old jeph, as he busied himself with the model of his lifeboat.

jeph said that in his opinion it was going to be a regular nor’-easter, and bluenose intimated his adherence to the same opinion, with a slap on his thigh, and a huge puff of smoke.

“you’re long about that boat, jeph,” said bluenose, after a pause, during which he scanned the horizon with a telescope.

“so i am. it ain’t easy to carry out the notion.”

“an’ wot may the notion be?” inquired bluenose, sitting down on a coil of rope, and gazing earnestly at the old man.

“to get lifeboats to right themselves w’en they’re upset,” replied jeph, regarding his model with a look of perplexity. “you see it’s all very well to have ’em filled with air-chambers, which prevents ’em from sinkin’; but w’en they’re upset, d’ye see, they ain’t o’ no use till they gets on their keels again; and that ain’t easy to manage. now i’ve bin thinkin’ that if we wos to give ’em more sheer, and raise the stem and stern a bit, they’d turn over natural-like, of their own accord.”

“i do believe they would,” said bax. “why, what put that into yer head, old man?”

“well, it ain’t altogether my own notion,” said jeph, “for i’ve heard, when i was in the port o’ leith, many years ago, that a clergyman o’ the name of bremer had made a boat o’ this sort in the year 1792, that answered very well; but, somehow or other, it never came to anything. there’s nothin’ that puzzles me so much as that,” said the old man, looking up with a wondering expression of countenance. “i don’t understand how, w’en a good thing is found out, it ain’t made the most of at once! i never could discover exactly what mr bremer’s plan was, so i’m tryin’ to invent one.”

as he said this, jeph placed the model on which he was engaged in a small tub of water which stood at his elbow. guy, who was much interested in the old man’s idea, bent over him to observe the result of the experiment. tommy bogey sat down beside the tub as eagerly as if he expected some wonderful transformation to take place. bax and bluenose also looked on with unusual interest, as if they felt that a crisis in the experimental labours of their old comrade had arrived.

“it floats first-rate on an even keel,” cried tommy, with a pleased look as the miniature boat moved slowly round its little ocean, “now then, capsize it.”

old jeph quietly put his finger on the side of the little boat, and turned it upside down. instead of remaining in that position it rolled over on one side so much, that the onlookers fully expected to see it right itself, and tommy gave vent to a premature cheer, but he cut it suddenly short on observing that the boat remained on its side with one of the gunwales immersed, unable to attain an even keel in consequence of the weight of water inside of it.

“i tell ye wot it is, jeph,” said bluenose, with emphasis, “you’ll do it yet; if you don’t i’ll eat my sou’-wester without sauce, so i will. as the noospapers says, you’ll inaggerate a new era in lifeboats, old boy, that’s a fact, and i’ll live to see it too!”

having delivered himself of this opinion in tones of much fervour, the captain delivered his mouth of a series of cloudlets, and gazed through them at his old friend with unfeigned admiration.

guy and bax were both impressed with the partial success of the experiment, as well as with jeph’s idea, and said to him, encouragingly, that he had very near hit it, but jeph himself only shook his head and smiled sadly.

“lads,” said he, “very near is sometimes a long way farther off than folk suppose. perpetual motion has bin very nearly discovered ever since men began to try their hands at engineerin’, but it ain’t discovered yet, nor never will be—’cause why? it ain’t possible.”

“ain’t poss’ble!” echoed bluenose, “you’re out there, old man. i diskivered it, years ago. just you go up to sandhill cottage, and inquire for one mrs laker, a hupright and justifiable sister o’ mine. open that ’ooman’s mouth an’ look in (she won’t bite if ye don’t bother her too much), and lyin’ in that there cavern ye’ll see a thing called a tongue,—if that ain’t an engine of perpetooal motion, shiver my timbers! that’s all.”

just as the captain made this reckless offer to sacrifice his timbers, peekins—formerly the blue tiger—entered the hovel, and going hastily to bluenose, whispered in his ear.

a very remarkable transformation had taken place in the outward man of poor peekins. after coming with bax to deal he had been adopted, as it were, by the co-partners of the hovel, and was, so to speak, shared equally by bax, bluenose, old jeph, and tommy. the wonderfully thin and spider-like appearance which he presented in his blue-tights and buttons on his arrival, created such a howl of derisive astonishment among the semi-nautical boys of deal, that his friends became heartily ashamed of him. bax, therefore, walked him off at once to a slop-shop, where sea-stores of every possible or conceivable kind could be purchased at reasonable prices, from a cotton kerchief, with the union jack in the middle of it, to the old anchor of a seventy-four gun ship, with a wooden stock big enough to make a canoe.

here peekins was disrobed of his old garments, and clad in canvas trousers, pilot-cloth jacket and vest, with capacious pockets, and a sou’-wester; all of which fitted him so loosely that he felt persuaded in his own mind he could easily have jumped out of them with an upward bound, or have slipped out of them downwards through either leg of the pantaloons. he went into that store a blue spider, he came out a reasonable-looking seafaring boy, rather narrow and sloping about the shoulders, it is true, but smart enough and baggy enough—especially about the nether garments—to please even bax, who, in such matters, was rather fastidious.

the whispered communication, above referred to, had the effect of causing bluenose to spring up from the coil of rope, and exclaim— “you don’t say so!”

then, checking himself, and looking mysterious, he said he wanted to have a word with bax in private, and would be obligated if he’d go with him a bit along shore.

“well, what’s the news?” inquired bax, when they were alone.

“we’ve heerd of long orrick,” said bluenose, eagerly.

“that’s not much news,” said bax; “you told me there wasn’t enough witnesses to swear to him, or something o’ that sort, and that it would be no use attempting to put him in limbo, didn’t you?”

“ay,” replied the other, striking his clenched right hand into the palm of his left, “but the villain don’t the less deserve to be tied up, and get twelve dozen for all that. i’d content myself with knocking out both his daylights for his cowardly attempt to badger an old man, but that wouldn’t be safe; besides, i know’d well enough he’d take to smugglin’ again, an’ soon give us a chance to nab him at his old tricks; so coleman and i have been keepin’ a look-out on him; and we’ve found that small yard o’ pump-water, peekins, oncommon clever in the way o’ watchin’. he’s just brought me word that he heard long orrick talkin’ with his chum rodney nick, an’ plannin’ to run their lugger to-night into pegwell bay, as the coast at the fiddler’s cave would be too well watched; so i’m goin’ down to fiddler’s cave to-night, and i wants you to go with me. we’ll get coleman to help us, for he’s savage to get hold of long orrick ever since the night they put him in a sack, an’ left him to air his timbers in the great chapel field.”

“but if,” said bax, “long orrick said he would run to pegwell bay, which is three or four miles to the nor’ard o’ this, and resolved that he would not go to fiddler’s cave, which is six miles to the s’uth’ard, why should you go to the very place he’s not likely to be found at?”

“because i knows the man,” replied bluenose, with a wink of deep meaning; “i knows him better than you do. w’en long orrick is seen bearin’ away due north with flying colours, you may take your davy that his true course lies south, or thereby.”

bax smiled, and suggested that they should take guy foster with them, and when tommy bogey heard what they were about he volunteered his services, which were accepted laughingly. being of a sociable disposition, tommy deemed it prudent to press peekins into the service, and peekins, albeit not pugnacious by nature, was quite willing and ready to follow wherever his sturdy little friend chose to lead.

so they all set off, along the road that skirts the beach, towards saint margaret’s bay. the sun was just sinking as they started, and the red clouds were beginning to deepen in their colour and look ominous, though the sea was still quiet and clear like a sheet of glass.

after following the road for some time, they diverged into the footpath that leads to, and winds along the giddy edge of, the chalk cliffs which rise abruptly from the shore at this part of the kentish coast to the height of several hundred feet.

the path being narrow, they were obliged to walk in single file, bax leading, bluenose and guy following, and tommy with his meek friend bringing up the rear.

the view seawards was indescribably magnificent from the elevated ridge along which they hastened. the downs was crowded with hundreds of vessels of every form and size, as well as of every country, all waiting for a favourable breeze to enable them to quit the roadstead and put to sea. pilot luggers and other shore-boats of various kinds were moving about among these; some on the look-out for employment, others intent on doing a stroke of business in the smuggling way, if convenient. far away along the beach men of the coastguard might be seen, like little black specks, with telescopes actively employed, ready to pounce on and overhaul (more or less stringently according to circumstances) every boat that touched the shingle. everything in nature seemed silent and motionless, with the exception of the sea-mews that wheeled round the summits of the cliffs or dived into the glassy sea.

all these things were noted and appreciated in various degrees by the members of the party who hastened towards saint margaret’s bay, but none of them commented much on the scenery. they were too well accustomed to the face of nature in every varying mood to be much struck with her face on the present occasion. perhaps we may except guy foster, who, being more of a city man than his companions, besides being more highly educated, was more deeply impressed by what he saw that evening. but guy was too much absorbed by the object of the expedition to venture any remark on the beautiful aspect of nature.

“d’ye see that lugger, bax?” said bluenose, pointing to a particular spot on the sea.

“between the yankee and the frenchman?” said bax, “i see it well enough. what then?”

“that’s long orrick’s boat,” replied the captain, “i’d know it among a thousand. depend on it we’ll nab him to-night with a rich cargo of baccy and brandy a-board. the two b’s are too much for him. he’d sell his soul for baccy and brandy.”

“that’s not such an uncommon weakness as you seem to think,” observed guy. “every day men sell their souls for more worthless things.”

“d’ye think so?” said bluenose, with a philosophical twist in his eyebrows.

“i know it,” returned guy; “men often sell both body and soul (as far as we can judge) for a mere idea.”

here bax, who had been examining the lugger in question with a pocket-telescope, said that he had no doubt whatever bluenose was right, and hastened forward at a smarter pace than before.

in less than two hours they descended the steep cliffs to the shingle of saint margaret’s bay; and at the same time the wind began to rise, while the shades of night gradually overspread the scene.

saint margaret’s bay is one of those small, quiet, secluded hamlets which are not unfrequently met with along our coasts, and in regard to which the stranger is irresistibly led to ask mentally, if not really, “why did people ever come to build cottages and dwell here, and what do they do? how do they make a livelihood?”

no stranger ever obtains a satisfactory answer to these questions, for the very good reason that, short though they be, the answers to them would involve almost a volume, or a speech equal in length to that with which the chancellor of the exchequer introduces his annual budget. there would be various classes to describe, numerous wants to apprehend, peculiar circumstances and conditions of social life to explain; in short, the thing is a mystery to many, and we merely remark on the fact, without having any intention of attempting to clear the mystery away.

so narrow is the strip of shingle that lies between the sea and the cliffs in saint margaret’s bay, that the cottages have been built close up to the latter—much too close, we venture to think, for safety; but perhaps men who live in constant peril of their lives, count the additional risk of being crushed along with their families under twenty or thirty tons of chalk, unworthy of consideration!

on descending to the beach the first thing our party saw was the burly figure of coleman seated on his “donkey” by the “sad sea waves.”

it must not be supposed that the coast-guard-man was literally astride of a live ass! no; his “donkey” was an exceedingly ingenious contrivance invented specially for the use of a class of men who, being human, cannot avoid becoming fatigued—yet who, being sentinels, must not on any account whatever be permitted to encourage sleep.

the men of the coast-guard are subject to prolonged and frequent periods of watching, by night as well as by day, hence they are liable to become wearied. it has been wisely considered that the most self-denying mortal alive will, when hard pressed, sit down on a rock or on the ground, if need be, just to relieve his legs a little. the same wise consideration has recalled the fact that when men do this they become helplessly incapable of resisting the drowsy god, and will assuredly go to sleep, against their will and their judgment.

to meet this case, some truly great mind invented the “donkey.” this contrivance is simply a stool with one leg. the top of the stool is not round, but oblong, and very small. a hole in the centre receives the solitary leg, which is attached to it by a piece of cord, and can be pulled out when occasion requires, and the machine thrown over the arm as one would throw a cloak or scarf. the beauty of the donkey is, that it forms an excellent seat on which a man can balance himself and rest with great comfort as long as he keeps awake; but should he fall asleep, even for one instant, he infallibly comes to the ground with a shock so severe that he is quite certain to remain wakeful during the remainder of his vigil!

“what, ho! coleman,” cried bax, as he and his friends drew near, “have you actually acquired the art of sleeping on a donkey?”

coleman rose and turned round with a good-humoured smile on his ruddy visage:

“nay, not quite that,” said he, “but the hiss of the waves is apt to dull the hearin’ a bit, an’ one don’t naturally look for enemies from land’ard, d’ye see?”

“mayhap not,” said bluenose, taking a fresh quid of tobacco out of a brass box which he carried at all times in his waistcoat pocket; “but i expect an enemy from seaward to-night who’ll be oncommon glad to make your acquaintance, no doubt!”

here the captain chuckled, engulfed his fresh quid, and proceeded to explain the nature of their errand. having done so, he asked coleman what he thought of it.

the worthy coast-guard-man scratched his nose and stared at the shingle for some minutes before venturing to reply.

“i think,” said he at length, “that we’ll cook his goose to-night; that’s wot it is.”

coleman paused, and looked thoughtfully at bluenose. the captain nodded his head pleasantly, but said nothing, and coleman proceeded:—

“he’ll come in with the flood-tide no doubt, if the gale don’t drive him in sooner, an’ run ashore as near to the cave as possible; but he’ll be scared away if he sees anything like unusual watchin’ on the shore, so you’d better get out o’ sight as fast as ye can, and keep there.”

“don’t you think it would be as well that you also should keep out of sight, and so leave the coast clear for him?” suggested bax.

“not so,” said coleman with a grin, “he’d see that i’d done it for an object. long orrick keeps his weather eye too wide open to be caught so easy as that comes to.”

“well, but come up for half-an-hour, and have a glass of beer while we talk over the business,” said bax.

coleman shook his head, “can’t quit my post; besides, i don’t drink no beer.”

“brayvo! old feller,” cried bluenose, “give us your flipper. water, cold, for ever! say i, as the whale remarked to the porpoise. but let’s go under the lee o’ the boat-’ouse an’ talk it out, for we shan’t nab long orrick this night, if we doesn’t go at ’im like a cat at a mouse.”

“just listen to that old codfish,” said tommy bogey to peekins, “takin’ credit to his-self for not drinkin’, though he smokes like a steam-tug, an’ chews like—like—i’m a dutchman if i know what, unless it be like the bo’sun of a seventy-four gun ship.”

“do bo’suns of seventy-four gun ships chew very bad?” inquired peekins.

“oh! don’t they!” exclaimed tommy, opening his eyes very wide, and rounding his mouth so as to express his utter inability to convey any idea of the terrific powers of bo’suns in that particular line. “but bluenose beats ’em all. he’d chew oakum, i do believe, if he didn’t get baccy, and yet he boasts of not drinkin’! seems to me he’s just as bad as the rest of us.”

“d’you think so?” said peekins, with a doubtful look; “don’t you think the man who does only two nasty things is better off than the one that does three?”

“nasty things!” exclaimed tommy in a tone of amazement. “don’t bax drink and smoke, and d’ye think he’d do one or t’other if they was nasty? peekins, you small villian as was a blue spider only a week since, if you ever talks of them things being nasty again, i’ll wop you!”

“you hear that, bax?” said guy foster, who, being only a few paces ahead of the boys, had overheard the remark, spoken as it was in rather a loud key.

bax nodded his head, and smiled, but made no reply.

it is but just to say that tommy’s threat was uttered more than half in jest. he would as soon have thought of “wopping” a little girl as of maltreating his meek companion. but peekins was uncertain how to take his threat, so, not being desirous of a wopping, he held his tongue and humbly followed his comrades.

the party walked for some time at the foot of the cliffs under the lee of a boat-house, engaged in earnest conversation as to the best mode of proceeding in the meditated enterprise. it was evident to all of them that the hour for action could not now be far distant; for the gale increased every moment; the light on the south foreland was already sending its warning rays far and wide over the angry sea, whence the floating lights that mark the sands sent back their nightly greeting, while dark thunderous clouds mantled over the sky and deepened the shades of night which, ere long, completely overspread land and sea.