He decided to consign these two emblems
of vice to the waves that very evening.
Meanwhile William had returned to the hut and was composing a tale of
smugglers by the light of a candle. He was much intrigued by his
subject. He wrote fast in an illegible hand in great sloping lines,
his brows frowning, his tongue protruding from his mouth as it always
did in moments of mental strain.
His sympathies wavered between the smugglers and the representatives
of law and order. His orthography was the despair of his teachers.
_"'Ho,' sez Dick Savage,"_ he wrote. _"Ho! Gadzooks! Rol in the
bottles of beer up the beech. Fill your pockets with the baccy from
the bote. Quick, now! Gadzooks! Methinks we are observed!" He glared
round in the darkness. In less time than wot it takes to rite this he
was srounded by pleese-men and stood, proud and defiant, in the light
of there electrick torches wot they had wiped quick as litening from
their busums._
_"'Surrender!' cried one, holding a gun at his brain and a drorn sord
at his hart, 'Surrender or die!'_
_"'Never,' said Dick Savage, throwing back his head, proud and
defiant, 'Never. Do to me wot you will, you dirty dogs, I will never
surrender. Soner will I die.'_
_"One crule brute hit him a blo on the lips and he sprang back,
snarling with rage. In less time than wot it takes to rite this he had
sprang at his torturer's throte and his teeth met in one mighty bite.
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