upon the bo'sun, leaped from the ditch and made a rush for Hellspite with his naked cutlass. Five or six pistols cracked behind him and over he fell, face downward in the road. Every shot had taken effect: he was dead.
"'Oh, do keep your little heads, you silly King's men!" wailed Hellspite, "for look how we've spoiled that nice little man. He's no use now to fight the French, no use at all. Oh, what a pity, what a pity, what a pity!"
Again came the cry of the curlew, seven times.
"Now, then, those weapons!" ordered Hellspite sharply, "and if they don't come along quick we'll put this captain out of service along with his man there."
There was nothing for it but to obey. They were in the demons' power. The sailors had found that the smugglers were good shots and that they meant business. No, there was nothing for it but to hand over their arms to the bo'sun, who with bad grace laid them upon the roadway, whence they were picked up by the jack-o'-lanterns, who bore them into the barn.
"Now, then, my fine fellows," said Hellspite, "we'll plump this 'ere captain on the road. You will pick him up if you want him and take him home to bed, for the dawn ain't far off, and as the wool packs are safe and away, we'll bid you good repose."
The captain was accordingly lifted from the donkey and laid upon the road. The sailors were filed up around him, and conducted ingloriously back to the vicarage barn. Three devils, having been told off for
