With an effort Jack pulled himself together and pressed forward to lend a hand. His men were being remorselessly driven back. Doggedly they fought, yielding only inch by inch; but it was clear that they were outmatched, and at length, by sheer weight of numbers, they were forced over the bulwarks into the sea. Turley, who had all his wits about him, contrived to cut the painter holding the boat to the lugger’s side; and, hardly aware how he came there, Jack found himself hanging to the side of the boat, unable to do more than cling on for dear life. Two or three men managed to scramble into the boat; they rowed it ashore. When it beached, Jack and the men ran up across the shingle toward the cliffs. In a few minutes they were joined by others of their party, all dripping wet, and furious with rage at their defeat. "’Tis all through old Turnip-tops," growled Turley. "The idea of his losing his head that way!" "Anybody seen him?" asked Jack, whose teeth were chattering; he had not yet recovered from the blow on his head. "Never a man, sir. But there’s the lugger making sail. We’ve lost the cargo and got nothing for our pains but broken heads and such like." Jack saw the dim shape of the lugger disappearing seaward. In five minutes every trace of the smugglers had vanished, except a broken keg or two on the shingle, from which gusts of the odor of spirits reached the men gathered in a knot above. By and by Babbage turned up, declaring that if it hadn’t been for Turley the attack would have been a great success. Before long the party was complete, none having been killed, though several had had a narrow escape from drowning. They had been saved by the planks of the gangway, which the smugglers, in their haste to escape, had allowed to fall into the water. Jack wondered why the smugglers had fled when it would have been an easy matter for them to overwhelm the king’s men. "Why, they were afeard, sir," said Babbage. "The noise was enough to bring all Dorset upon ’em, and how did they know but that the riding-officer was nigh, ready to come down on ’em? And so he ought to ha’ bin." "Well, they’ve let us off easily," said Jack. "We’d better get our boat afloat and hunt for the _Fury_." "Ay, sir, and won’t Mr. Blake be in a fury when he hears the tale! All we’ve got is cuts, bruises, and a ducking!" *CHAPTER VIII* *CONGLETON’S FOLLY* It was several hours before the boat fell in with the _Fury_. Jack and the men were heartily glad when they saw the cutter’s mast-head light. They scrambled on board, and while the men had to stand a good deal of rough chaff from their messmates, Jack’s account of his failure was received by Lieutenant Blake with a quizzical smile. "Ah, my boy, we have to take the rough with the smooth," was all that officer said. "I suppose you don’t feel in very good trim for that little expedition you proposed?"