y
ill."

"Of course she is," cried the lieutenant testily. "Women are sure to be
sick if you bring them to sea. But look here, my good fellow, English
gentleman or no English gentleman, you can't deceive me. Now then, what
have you got on board?"

"Fish, I believe," said Sir Henry.

"Yes, of course," sneered the lieutenant; "and brandy, and silk, and
velvet, and lace. Now then, skipper, you are caught this time. But
look here, you scoundrel, what do you mean by pretending to be a
Frenchman?"

"Frenchman? Frenchman?" said the skipper with a look of extreme
stupidity. "You said I was a Dutchman."

"You lie, you scoundrel. Here, come forward and move that sail and
those nets. Now no nonsense; set your fellows to work."

He clapped his hand sharply on the skipper's shoulder, and turned him
round, following him forward.

"Take a man, Mr Leigh, and search that dog-hole."

Hilary Leigh was astounded, for knowing what he did he expected that the
lieutenant would have instantly divined what seemed patent to him--that
Sir Henry Norland was trying, for some reason or another, to get back to
England, and that although the lugger was commanded by an Englishman,
she was undoubtedly a French _chasse maree_ from Saint Malo.

But the lieutenant had got it into his head that he had overhauled a
smuggling vessel laden with what would turn into prize-money for himself
and men, and the thought that she might be bound on a political errand
did not cross his mind.

"I'll search fully," said Leigh; and bidding the sailor with the long
pigtail stay where he was, the young officer bent down and crept in
under the half-deck just as the fainting girl recovered.

As she caught sight of Hilary she made a snatch at his hand, and in a
choking voice exclaimed:

"Oh, Hilary! don't you know me again? Pray, pray save my poor father.
Oh, you will not give him up?"

The young man's heart seemed to stand still as the dilemma in which he
was placed forced itself upon him. He was in his majesty's service, and
in the king's name he ought to have called upon this gentleman, a
well-known Jacobite, to surrender, and tell the lieutenant who he was.

On the other hand, if he did this unpleasant duty he would be betraying
a dear old companion of his father, a man who had watched his own career
with interest and helped him through many a little trouble; and, above
all, he would be, as the thought flashed upon him, sending Adela's
father--