“Upon me sowl and so we could; and it's meself that would go into the trade, so soon as it was stopped with the thousand pounds.” “We have no time for talking nonsense;” answered Nettlebones, severely, according to the universal law that the man who has wasted the time of others gets into a flurry about his own. “Your suggestion, Bowler, is a very wise one, and as full as possible of common-sense. You also, Donovan, have shown with great sagacity what might come of it thereafter. But unluckily we have to get on as we can, without sixpence to spare for anybody. We know that the fishermen and people on the coast, and especially the womankind, are all to a man--as our good friend here would say--banded in league against us. Nevertheless, this landing shall not be, at least upon our district. What happens north of Teesmouth is none of our business; and we should have the laugh of the old Scotchman there, if they pay him a visit, as I hope they may; for he cuts many jokes at our expense. But, by the Lord Harry, there shall be no run between the Tees and Yare, this side of Christmas. If there is, we may call ourselves three old women. Shake hands, gentlemen, upon that point; and we will have a glass of grog to it.” This was friendly, and rejoiced them all; for Nettlebones had been stiff at first. Readily enough they took his orders, which seemed to make it impossible almost for anything large to slip between them, except in case of a heavy fog; and in that case they were to land, and post their outlooks near the likely places. “We have shed no blood yet, and I hope we never shall,” said the senior officer, pleasantly. “The smugglers of this coast are too wise, and I hope too kind-hearted, for that sort of work. They are not like those desperate scoundrels of Sussex. When these men are nabbed, they give up their venture as soon as it goes beyond cudgel-play, and they never lie in wait for a murderous revenge. In the south I have known a very different race, who would jump on an officer till he died, or lash him to death with their long cart-whips; such fellows as broke open Poole Custom-house, and murdered poor Galley and Cator, and the rest, in a manner that makes human blood run cold. It was some time back; but their sons are just as bad. Smuggling turns them all to devils.” “My belief is,” said Bowler, who had a gift of looking at things from an outer point of view, “that these fellows never propose to themselves to transgress the law, but to carry it out according to their own interpretation. One of them reasoned with me some time ago, and he talked so well about the Constitution that I was at a loss to answer him.” “Me jewel, forbear,” shouted Donovan; “a clout on the head is the only answer for them Constitutionals. Niver will it go out of my mind about the time I was last in Cark; shure, thin, and it was holiday-time; and me sister's wife's cousin, young Tim O'Brady--Tim says to me, 'Now, Corkoran, me lad--'”