peaceable than ordinary--the boats at anchor, no sound of
work at all, and scarcely a sign of life but the smoke from Bessie
Bussow's chimney.

"Where's my boy?" was the first question Mrs. Geen put to her
sister-in-law after the two women had kissed each other.

"Out seaning," answered Bessie, as prompt as you please.
"But most likely he'll be home some time to-night. The master's got a
new sean-boat, and all the boys be out working her. There's not a soul
left in the Cove barring the master himself and Uncle Billy."

"Well, I'm glad of my life the boy's at such innocent work; but I've
come to see John Carter and take him away. The preacher here says that
smuggling is a sin and the soul's destruction; he's quite sure of it in
his own mind, and whiles there's any doubt I don't want my Phoby to risk
it."

"Aw?" said Bessie. "I'd dearly like to hear how he makes that out.
But I han't got time to be talking just now. You'd best take him across
and let him try to persuade John Carter, while I get your room ready.
I saw John going towards his house ten minutes ago, and I'se warn he'll
offer the preacher a bed and listen to all he's got to say."

So, having stabled the pony, Mrs. Geen and the preacher walked over to
Carter's house together. They found the King in his kitchen-parlour,
divided between his accounts and a mug of cider, and he made them
welcome, being always fond of preachers and having a great respect for
Ann Geen because of her family.

There was a great heap of shavings in the fire-place, for the room was a
sunny one, facing south by west. But the King told her where to find
some tea that had never paid duty, and she took off her bonnet and
boiled the kettle in the kitchen at the back, and it wasn't till they'd
drunk a cup that she explained what had brought her, and called on the
preacher to wrestle.

Captain John listened very politely, or seemed to, and nodded his head
at the right time; but he couldn't help being a bit absent-minded.
Fact was, he expected a cargo home that very evening, and didn't feel so
easy about it as usual. Up to now he had always run his stuff in
goodish-sized vessels--luggers or cutter-rigged craft running up to
fifty or sixty tons as we should reckon now. But Captain Will Richards
had taken a great fancy to the Cawsand plan of using light-built open
row-boats or, as you might say, galleys, pulling eight oars, and put
together to pass for sean-boats. After the war,