Jack Hardy: A Story of English Smugglers in the Days of NapoleonStrang, Herbert
History
Jack Hardy: A Story of English Smugglers in the Days of Napoleon
Strang, Herbert
Great Britain -- History -- 19th century -- Juvenile fiction; Sailors -- Juvenile fiction; Smugglers -- Juvenile fiction
"He had the flutters very badly, Jack. I put it to him as delicately as
I could. Said that recent events had given the neighborhood a bad name,
especially as it had been found that some one had been selling
information to the French. Suspicion might easily fall on the wrong
person, I said; and I wound up by suggesting that when next winter comes
he should see that his chimneys are swept regularly. The old rascal!
’Oh dear me!’ says he, ’to think that a quiet law-abiding village like
Luscombe should have harbored a French spy! It puts me in a terrible
flutter, Cognac is the best cure I know, sir; maybe you’ll do me the
honor to take a sip with me?’ and the rascal gave me a glass, Jack;
contraband—capital stuff!"
"He’ll be careful in future, I reckon, cousin. I must run over to
Portsmouth after lunch and report to Admiral Horniman. I suppose I’d
better keep Gudgeon’s name out?"
"Certainly, my lad. You’ve snuffed out smuggling here—for the present;
it is bound to begin again some day; but you may depend upon it that for
a long time to come we’re all king’s men here, Gudgeon included."
It was a fortnight before Jack returned to the Grange. Then he came in
a high state of excitement.
"Admiral Horniman is a jolly old brick!" he cried, after greeting his
cousins. "What do you think he’s done?"
"Resigned in your favor, Jack?"
"Pretty nearly!" returned Jack with a laugh. "No, he’s written up a
thumping report to the lords of the Admiralty, and got ’em to ’do a
thing that’s as rare as—as—"
"As Jack Hardys. Well!"
"Why, to let me off three years’ service as a mid, and also the
examination for lieutenant. Look here! here’s my commission!" He
flourished a paper, and cried for three cheers for Admiral Horniman.
"And that’s not all. I’ve got no end of prize-money for capturing the
French brig, and retaking the _Fury_, and collaring the smugglers’
stuff. My share alone comes to over a thousand pounds. And they’ve
taken two French privateers and sunk another off Fowey. The signals
worked splendidly; they were trying to cut out a disabled ship that
wasn’t there! The admiral’s going to put in a claim to prize-money for
me. He is a brick!"
"Oh, I say!" cried Arthur. "Don’t I wish I was you!"
"I’m glad for dad’s sake. He hasn’t been over well off since he had to
retire from the East India Company’s service, owing to that wretched
illness of his, and I’m afraid he had to pinch a bit for me. But now
that’s all changed. I shan’t cost him another penny piece."
"Bravo! Arthur, you young dog, remember that, and hand over a thousand
pounds to me when I’m bound for the poorhouse. Well, Jack, I
congratulate you, my boy."
"But that’s not all, cousin. I’ve kept the best for the last. Open
your eyes! I’m appointed to the _Victory_, and sail to join Nelson in a
week! Won’t we pepper the French! Won’t we win a glorious victory! Oh!
cousin, isn’t it the finest thing in the world to serve your king and
country!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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