But the dog made a dash back to the front door, and, when Gumley followed and opened it, rushed growling down the garden, where he was brought up by the high fence. Seizing his cutlass, Gumley stumped as fast as he could to the gate. "Chok’ it all!" he muttered. "This is what comes o’ losing a leg in the king’s name." It took some little time to draw the bolts and unlock the gate, and when the old sailor got out into the road the fugitive was out of sight. But Gumley thought he heard a man running down the cliff path to the village. Without hesitation he started in pursuit, whistling Comely to his side. Never had that wooden leg moved so fast; but with all his exertion his pace did not exceed that of a quick walk. He was half-way down the path when he heard shots in the distance. Hurrying still more, he came to the village just in time to see a group of men rushing out at the other end, and caught the words "Sandy Cove!" "Fire and brimstone!" he muttered. "This is a desperate go, Comely. Come on, my lad." And he stumped on gamely through the deserted street. Meanwhile there had been brisk doings at Sandy Cove. When Jack judged that he was only a couple of cable-lengths from the lugger, he cast off the long-boat with Babbage and his men. They, resting on their oars, allowed it to drift slowly in while the cutter disappeared into the darkness. A few moments later Jack gave the word. The sail was run down. A round shot from the lugger whistled across the _Fury’s_ bows. Another few seconds; then, amid furious shouts, the cutter came against the larboard quarter of the lugger with a bump that caused the men on both craft to stagger. The _Fury’s_ bowsprit fouled the lugger’s shrouds and hooked fast. Instantly half a dozen grapnels were out, and the two vessels were closely interlocked. There was a deafening discharge of small arms from the deck of the lugger, but as most of the _Fury’s_ men were lying down awaiting the order to board, and the volley was fired at random in almost total darkness, hardly any damage was done. But the master of the lugger was clearly a man of action, for the echo of the shots had scarcely come back from the cliffs when he gave a loud order in French, and the smugglers swarmed over the bulwarks, intending to jump on to the deck of the cutter a foot or two below. "Fire!" The word rang out sharp and clear above the shouts of the Frenchmen. Their dark forms stood out clearly against the starlight; they were only a few feet from the muzzles of the Englishmen’s muskets; and when at Jack’s command the volley flashed, the front line of the smugglers disappeared as if struck by a thunderbolt.