A few minutes later the dim outlines of two prominent cliffs to the northeast and west-north-west respectively could be seen. Jack saw that he could determine the general direction of the light by those two well-known landmarks. Accordingly he ordered the cutter to be hove to; he then took its position with reference to the two cliffs, and the angle of the light. When this was done he went below and reported to Lieutenant Blake, who was enjoying a nap in his tiny cabin. "You did very well, Hardy. We’ll return to-morrow and test your observations. There’s no confounded lugger or anything of that sort in sight, eh?" "Nothing, sir." "Well, I’ll leave things to you. Run closer in shore, and keep a bright lookout. If there’s nothing in sight, head her for Wynport, but keep a good offing off Bantock Point." Carrying out these orders, Jack found that a mile farther in he lost sight of the light. He thought it worth while to run out again and see if it had disappeared altogether, but on returning to nearly the same spot at which the cutter had been hove to, he saw that the light was burning as brightly as ever. All at once it went out. Jack waited for some time to see if it reappeared, but the shore remaining in perfect blackness he saw no good in delaying further, and weathering the Point, with its spine of jagged rocks running out to sea, ran straight for Wynport. They had not gone far when Babbage declared he saw a sail on the weather beam. Jack instantly put down the helm, but after cruising about for some time and finding nothing he concluded that the bo’sun had been mistaken. "Another facer for old Onions!" whispered Turley. At Wynport Mr. Blake put up at the _Dolphin_, leaving Jack on board. Early in the morning Jack met Mr. Goodman, the riding-officer, on his way to the inn. He had been informed, Goodman said, that the smugglers had made a run in the night, and that their cargo had been concealed somewhere about the premises of Gumley, the one-legged mariner on the hill. This news surprised Jack. It had never occurred to him that Gumley could have anything to do with the smugglers. But when he thought of Gumley’s seclusion, his mysterious ways, the defenses of his cottage, and his bulldog, he began to wonder whether dust had been thrown in his eyes, and the apparently law-abiding gardener was after all engaged in the illicit trade. He told Lieutenant Blake what he knew of Gumley. "Depend upon it, that’s your man," cried that officer. "You’d better search his place, Mr. Goodman." "Unluckily, sir, most of my men are off rummaging in another direction and won’t be back till to-morrow." "Well, I’ll lend you some of my crew. And as you know the place, Mr. Hardy, I’ll send you in charge."