“The lieutenant agreed with me in thinking that it would cause too much uproar to attack the ‘Molly Bawn.’  He congratulated me on my success in laying a trap for the people, and promising to meet me at the Cove, he ordered a car, and drove off in the direction of the Norfolk’s boat.  Early next morning I started to reconnoitre the ground and organize my plan of operations.  I found Phil Doolan’s mansion to be a mud-built tenement, larger, and standing apart from, the houses that then constituted the village.  It was ostensibly a sailor’s lodging-house and tavern for wayfarers, but, like the ’Molly Bawn,’ was in reality a rendezvous of smugglers, occasionally patronized by fugitive poachers and patriots.  It was known to its familiars as ‘The Crib,’ but was registered by the authorities as the ‘Father Mahony,’ who was represented on the sign-post by a full-length portrait of James the Second.  What gave me most satisfaction was to observe that the building was conveniently situated for a sack.

[Illustration]

“When night set in I marched the Norfolk’s men in close order, and as secretly as possible, to the Cove.  Approaching Phil Doolan’s in one direction, I could just catch a glimpse of the red coats of a file of marines advancing in another, with the lieutenant at their head, and, exactly as twelve o’clock struck on the parish clock, the ’Father Mahony’ was surrounded on all sides by armed men.  Two or three lanterns were now lit, and dispositions made to close up every avenue of escape.”

“‘There he is!’ cried Willis, interrupting himself, and staring into the air.

“Who?” inquired Jack—­“Phil Doolan?”

“No—­Bill Stubbs, late of the Nelson.”

“Where?”

“That squat, broad-shouldered man there, bracing the maintops.”

“Yes, now that you point him out, I think I have seen him before,” said Fritz.

“Holloa, Bill,” cried Jack.

“You see,” said Willis, “he turned his head.”

“How d’ye do, Bill?” added Jack.

“Are you speak’ng to me, sir?” inquired the sailor.

“Yes, Bill.”

“Then was your honor present when I was christened?  I appear to have forgotten my name for the last six-and thirty years.”

“No use, you see,” said Willis; “he is too old a bird to be caught by any of these dodges.  But I have lost the thread of my discourse.”

“You had surrounded the cabin, and were lighting lamps.”

“Half a dozen men were stationed at the door, pistol in hand, ready to rush in as soon as it opened.  The lieutenant and I went forward and knocked, but no one answered.  We knocked again, louder than before, but still no answer.

“‘Open the door, in the King’s name!’ thundered the lieutenant.  Silence, as before.

“Calling to the marines, he ordered them to root up Phil Doolan’s sign-post, and use it as a battering ram against the door.  The first blow of this machine nearly brought the house down, and a cracked voice was heard calling on the saints inside.