started, for yes--no--yes--there
could be no mistake about it, a white handkerchief was being held over
the side, and it was a signal of amity to him.

Quite a couple of hours had passed, and the lugger had for some time
been out of sight round the headland astern, when all at once the
lieutenant came on deck to where his junior was pacing up and down.

"Why, Leigh," he exclaimed, "I did not think of it then; but we ought to
have detained that _chasse maree_."

"Indeed, sir; why?"

"Ah! of course it would not occur to you, being so young in the service;
but depend upon it that fellow was a Jacobite, who had persuaded those
dirty-looking scoundrels to bring him across from Saint Malo, or some
other French port, and he's going to play spy and work no end of
mischief. We've done wrong, Leigh, we've done wrong."

"Think so, sir?"

"Yes, I'm sure of it. I was so intent on finding smuggled goods that I
didn't think of it at the time. But, there: it's too late now."

"Yes, sir," said Leigh quietly, "it's too late now."

For he knew that by that time the fugitives must be in Shoreham harbour.

CHAPTER THREE.

THE LIEUTENANT'S BARGAIN.

Three days of cruising up and down on the lookout for suspicious craft,
some of which were boarded, but boarded in vain, for, however suspicious
they might appear at a distance, there was nothing to warrant their
being detained and taken back into port.

Hilary used to laugh to himself at the impudence of their midge of a
cutter firing shots across large merchantmen, bringing them to, and
making them wait while the cutter sent a boat on board for their papers
to be examined.

It gradually fell to his lot to perform this duty, though if it happened
to be a very large vessel Lieutenant Lipscombe would take upon himself
to go on board, especially if he fancied that there would be an
invitation to a well-kept cabin and a glass of wine, or perhaps a
dinner, during which Hilary would be in command, and the cutter would
sail on in the big ship's wake till the lieutenant thought proper to
come on board.

The men sang songs and tied one another's pigtails; Hilary Leigh fished
and caught mackerel, bass, pollack, and sometimes a conger eel, and for
a bit of excitement a little of his majesty's powder was blazed away and
a cannonball sent skipping along the surface of the water, but that was
all.

Hilary used sometimes to own to himself that it was no wonder that Mr
Lipscombe, who