The captain pointed to a faint gleam of light on the horizon, which he knew well enough to be the moon; but he wished to change the subject.

“Ay is it, and there comes a boat.  Steady, men! lay on your oars a bit.”

This was said earnestly.  In one instant all were silent, and the boat lay as motionless as the shadows of the cliffs among which it was involved.

Presently the sound of oars was heard.  Almost at the same moment, the upper edge of the moon rose above the horizon, and covered the sea with rippling silver.  Ere long a boat shot into this stream of light, and rowed swiftly in the direction of Arbroath.

“There are only two men in it,” whispered the lieutenant.

“Ay, these are my good friends Swankie and Spink, who know a deal more about other improper callings besides smuggling, if I did not greatly mistake their words,” cried Ruby.

“Give way, lads!” cried the lieutenant.

The boat sprang at the word from her position under the cliffs, and was soon out upon the sea in full chase of the smugglers, who bent to their oars more lustily, evidently intending to trust to their speed.

“Strange,” said the lieutenant, as the distance between the two began sensibly to decrease, “if these be smugglers, with an empty boat, as you lead me to suppose they are, they would only be too glad to stop and let us see that they had nothing aboard that we could touch.  It leads me to think that you are mistaken, Ruby Brand, and that these are not your friends.”

“Nay, the same fact convinces me that they are the very men we seek; for they said they meant to have some game with you, and what more amusing than to give you a long, hard chase for nothing?”

“True; you are right.  Well, we will turn the tables on them.  Take the helm for a minute, while I tap one of the kegs.”

The tapping was soon accomplished, and a quantity of the spirit was drawn off into the captain’s pocket-flask.

“Taste it, captain, and let’s have your opinion.”

Captain Ogilvy complied.  He put the flask to his lips, and, on removing it, smacked them, and looked at the party with that extremely grave, almost solemn expression, which is usually assumed by a man when strong liquid is being put to the delicate test of his palate.

“Oh!” exclaimed the captain, opening his eyes very wide indeed.

What “oh” meant, was rather doubtful at first; but when the captain put the flask again to his lips, and took another pull, a good deal longer than the first, much, if not all of the doubt was removed.

“Prime! nectar!” he murmured, in a species of subdued ecstasy, at the end of the second draught.

“Evidently the right stuff,” said Lindsay, laughing.

“Liquid streams—­celestial nectar,
Darted through the ambient sky,”

said the captain; “liquid, ay, liquid is the word.”

He was about to test the liquid again:—­