At the same time Mr.Wingate had tacitly sanctioned the act by not preventing it when he might easily have done so.

He had allowed his property to be destroyed in order that he might realize a large profit.
Without waiting to hear more, I went straight to Captain Nutter, and, laying my remaining three dollars on his knee, confessed my share in the previous night's transaction.
The Captain heard me through in profound silence, pocketed the bank-notes, and walked off without speaking a word.

He had punished me in his own whimsical fashion at the breakfast table, for, at the very moment he was harrowing up my soul by reading the extracts from the Rivermouth Barnacle, he not only knew all about the bonfire, but had paid Ezra Wingate his three dollars.

Such was the duplicity of that aged impostor.
I think Captain Nutter was justified in retaining my pocketmoney, as additional punishment, though the possession of it later in the day would have got me out of a difficult position, as the reader will see further on.

I returned with a light heart and a large piece of punk to my friends in the stable-yard, where we celebrated the termination of our trouble by setting off two packs of fire-crackers in an empty wine-cask.