Cutlass and Cudgel Part 14

"We've no right to go searching their places, Mr Raystoke, but I shall make a mistake. They won't complain. They daren't."

"Why?"

"Hands are too dirty; if not with this job, with some other."

So they halted the men, posted one at each end of the little place, so as to command a good view of any one attempting to carry off contraband goods, and went from house to house, the people readily submitting to the intrusion and search, which in each case was without result.

Every one of the cottages being tried, the men were marched down hill after Archy, and stood for a few moments gazing out over the cliff, to where the cutter lay at anchor, with the farmer's boat trailing out astern, and the air so clear that he could even see the cow tethered to a belaying pin, just in front of the mast.

Five minutes after they came upon Fisherman-farmer Shackle himself, leaning over his gate and smoking a pipe, as he apparently contemplated a pig, and wondered whether he ought to make it fatter than it was.

"Mornin', gentlemen," he said, as Archy and the master came up, and halted their men.

"Good morning," said Archy shortly. "Stand aside, please; we must search all your places."

"Search my places, squire--capt'n, I mean? He aren't here."

"Who is not here? Are not you the master?"

"Ay, my lad, but I mean him you're searching for. Hi! Missus!"

"Yes," came from within, and Mrs Shackle appeared wiping her hands.

"Ain't seen a deserter, missus, have you? Capt'n here has lost one of his men."

"If you'll let me speak, I'll explain," said Archy sharply. "A cargo of contraband goods was landed on the rocks below the cliff last night, and--"

"You don't say so, master!" said Shackle earnestly.

"I do say so," cried Archy; "and you are suspected of having them concealed here."

"Me!" cried Shackle, bursting into a roar of laughter. "Me, Mr Orficer? Do you know what I am?"

"No."

"Why, I'm a farmer. Hi, missus, hear him! Young gent here thinks I'm a smuggler. That is a good un, and no mistake."

Archy was taken aback for the moment, but he caught the eye of the master, who was too old over the business to be easily hoodwinked.

"The young gentleman's made quite a mistake," said Mrs Shackle demurely. "P'r'aps he'd like a mug of our mead before he goes, and his men a drop of home-brewed."

"Ay, to be sure," cried Shackle. "Put out the bread and cheese, missus, and I'll go and draw a drink or two. You'll take something too, won't you, master?"

"Yes; don't mind," said Gurr, "but I'd rather take a tot o' right Nantes or Hollands."

"Ay, so would I," said Shackle, with a laugh, as his wife began to bustle about and get knives and plates; "but you've come to the wrong place, master. I have heared o' people getting a drop from 'em, after they've used their horses and carts, but that's never been my luck; has it, missus?"

"No, never," said Mrs Shackle; and to herself,--"That's quite true."

"You are very hospitable," said Archy shortly; "but I've got my duty to do, sir. It's an unpleasant one, that we must search your place for contraband goods."

"Sarch? Oh, I give you my word, squire, there's nothing here."

"We must see about that."

"Well, this here arn't werry pleasant, Mr Orficer, seeing as I'm a reg'lar loyal servant of the king. But theer, I don't mind if my missus don't object. You won't mind, old gal, so long as they don't rip open the beds and chuck the furniture all over the place?"

"I should like to see any of them doing it, that's all," cried Mrs Shackle, ruffling up like a great Dorking hen who saw a hawk.

"Nothing about the place shall be injured, madam," said Archy politely; "but we must search."

"Oh, very well then," said Mrs Shackle; "but I must say it's very rude."

"Pray, forgive us," said Archy, raising his hat; "we are His Majesty's servants, and we do it in the king's name."

Mrs Shackle responded with her best curtsey, and a smile came back in her face as the farmer said,--

"It's all right, missus; they're obliged to do it. Where will you begin first--what are you sarching for?"

"Brandy," said Archy.

"Oh, then, down in the cellar's the place," said Shackle, laughing, and taking three mugs from where his wife had placed them. "If it had been for silks and laces, I should have said go upstairs."

He led the way to a door at the top of some stone steps.

"One moment," said Archy, and, giving orders to the men to separate, surround the premises, and search the outbuildings, then stationing two more at the doors, and taking one, Gurr, to search upstairs, he followed the farmer into a fairly s.p.a.cious stone cellar, where there was a cider barrel in company with two of ale, and little kegs of elder wine and mead.

"Sarch away, squire," said Shackle bluffly, as he placed the mugs on the floor and turned the wooden spigots.

"That's elder wine in the little barrel. Say, you haven't seen anything of a boy of mine in your travels? My lad and one of the men have gone after a stray cow. I'm fear'd she's gone over the cliff."

"They're all on board the cutter."

"What? Well, that is good news. Full up here. Done sarching, sir?"

"Yes," replied Archy, who began to feel more and more ashamed of being suspicious of so frank and bluffly hospitable a man.

"Come along then. Your lads will be as pleased as can be with a mug of my home-brewed."

As he led the way to the door the mids.h.i.+pman gave another glance round, seeing nothing in the slightest degree suspicious, and, a few minutes after, the whole party was being refreshed, both officers quite convinced that there was nothing contraband on the premises.

"What other houses are there near here?" asked Gurr at last.

"Only one. The Hoze."

"The Hoze?"

"Yes; Sir Risdon Graeme's. Yonder among the trees. Going up there?"