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Cutlass and Cudgel

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<h3>Chapter Thirty Nine.</h3> Archy felt his heart throb as he led the way down the slope, every step of which seemed so familiar that he advanced without hesitation, the knowledge of how many sturdy men he had at his back keeping away the natural shrinking which under other circumstances he might have felt. “Halt!” said the master suddenly, and then in a whisper to his guide, “Strikes me as they’ll have the best of it if they should fight, my lad.” “Not much,” replied Archy; “it’s as dark for them as it is for us, so that they can’t take us at a disadvantage. Call on them to surrender again.” “Ay, to be sure,” cried the master; and once more he summoned the smugglers to give in. There was not a sound to suggest that his orders were heard. “Don’t know what to do, my lad,” whispered the master again. “If we go forward, we’re leaving the way open for the enemy to attack the watch at the entrance, and we don’t want that. Are you sure they’re here?” “I feel certain of it,” said Archy in the same low tone. “They must be, but they’re hiding, so as to try to escape, or else to take us at a disadvantage.” “Well,” said Gurr, “let them. So long as they come out and fight fair, I don’t care what they do. Here, four of you stop here; Dick, take command. We’ll go forward and turn the enemy, and try to take them in the rear. Stand fast if they come at you; no pistols, but use your cutlasses. We shall come up to you at the least sound, to help.” The men uttered a low, “Ay, ay, sir,” speaking as if they were oppressed by the darkness, and the master whispered. “Now, my lad,” he said, “try and give us the shape of the place like.” Archy obeyed, and explained where the smugglers’ stores lay, and the pile of little kegs, if they had not been moved, the place where he had slept, and the positions of the huge pillars and heaps of broken stones. “And you was shut up here all that time, and didn’t go mad!” said Gurr. “Well, you are a wonder! Tell you what, my lad, I should just like to make sure that those brandy kegs are still here, and then I think we’ll be off, and come back with lights. There’s no one here but ourselves. Place isn’t big enough for any one to be hiding without our hearing them?” “Plenty, Mr Gurr,” said Archy firmly; “and I am sure they are here; but it is impossible to search without lights. They may be hiding behind the pillars or piles of stone. Have lights got as soon as possible, and then we can come and make them prisoners.” All this was said in a hurried whisper, as the two stood together in front of their men, and in absolute darkness, for they had advanced into the place far enough for the faint light which filtered down from the trap-door to be completely lost. “Yes; but I’d like to be able to tell the skipper that we have got something in the way of a prize for the men. Can you lead us to it, my lad?” “But you couldn’t take it away.” “Well, we might carry one keg aboard, as a sample. Now then, where will it be from here?” “Give me your hand, and I’ll lead you right to it.” “There you are. Take care how you go. Can you keep close behind us, my lads? Better join hands. Now then, are you ready?” “Ay, ay,” came in a low murmur; and, grasping the master’s hand, Archy led on, fully believing that the smugglers were still there, but feeling that they would keep in hiding, and try to escape when they were gone. “Say, my lad,” whispered the master, “I pity you—I do from my soul. Think of you being shut up all alone in a place like this! Hah! Look out!” The order was needless, for the smugglers gave every one warning to do that. One moment the King’s men were advancing cautiously through the darkness, the next, without a sound to warn them, there was a rush; blows fell thick and fast, cudgel striking head, cutlass, shoulder, anything that opposed the advance; and in less time than it takes to describe the encounter, the sailors were beaten down or aside, and the party of four, who were warned of what to expect by the noise in their front, advanced to the help of their friends, but only to be beaten down or aside by the gang which rushed at them. “Stop them, Dick. Down with them!” shouted the master, as soon as he could get on his feet. “Hi, Dick! Pass the word to the bo’s’n to look out. Here, Mr Raystoke! Hi, bo’s’n, down with that trap and make it fast. Mr Raystoke, I say, where are you? Which way is it? Who’s this?” “No, no, sir,” cried one of them; “it’s on’y me.” “Mr Gurr! Here!” cried Archy. “Where are you?” “At last. Where were you, then?” “On the stones, half stunned,” cried Archy. “Here, all get together and follow me.” “What are you going to do?” “Make for the trap-door—sharp! They’re fighting there.” “Oh, dear, who’d have thought it was this way!” grumbled the master. “Talk about blind man’s buff! Sure you’re going right, lad? Shall I fire a pistol to make a flash?” “No; I know.” “Hah!” cried Gurr, as an echoing bang ran through the great cavern. “Bravo, bo’s’n!” The bang was followed by a heavy rattling sound perfectly familiar to Archy, as he hurried the master along to the foot of the slope. “Are you all there?” cried Archy. “Yes,”—“No,”—“No,” came from different directions. “Then keep up this way, and be ready for another rush.” “Ay,” cried the master loudly; “and I warn you fellows now, I’d have treated you easy; but if you will have it, the word’s war, and a volley of bullets next time you come on.” “No, no, don’t fire! You’ll hit our own men,” whispered Archy, as he reached the top of the slope. “Ah! Who’s this?” he cried, as he nearly fell over a prostrate figure. “Steady, my lad, steady!” “Steady it is,” said another voice. “What, bo’s’n?” “Yes, sir, and me too. Oh, my head! How it bleeds!” “Why, what are you doing here?” “They came at us, sir, like mad bulls, and ’fore I knew where I was they had me. Pair o’ hands pops up out of the hole, takes hold of my legs, and I was pulled down, had a crack of the head, was danced on, and here I am, sir.” “And me too, sir,” said the other voice. “But, I’m much worse than him.” “But the smugglers?” “All seemed to come over us, sir; banged the door down, and they’ve been rattling big stones on it. There, you can hear ’em now.” In corroboration of the boatswain’s words, there was a dull thunderous sound overhead, as of great stones being thrown down over the trap-door, and all listened in silence for a time till the noise ceased. The silence was broken by Gurr, who suddenly roared out, as if he had only just grasped the position,— “Why, they’ve got away!” “Every man jack of ’em, sir, and they all walked over me.” “And they’ve shut us in!” “Yes, Mr Gurr,” said Archy sadly; “they’ve shut us in.” “But if they were here,” cried the master; “that’s what I wanted to do to them. I say, Mr Raystoke, you’ve done it now.” Half angry, half amused, but all the while smarting with the pain caused by a blow he had received, Archy remained silent, listening to the heavy breathing and muttering of his companions in misfortune. The sounds above ground had ceased, and it was evident that the smugglers had made good their escape. Again the silence was broken by the master, who raging with pain and mortification, exclaimed,— “Well, Mr Raystoke, sir, you know all about this place; which is the way out?” “Up above here, Mr Gurr, close to where we stand.” “Very well, sir; then why don’t you lead on?” “Because they have shut and fastened the trap, and heaped about a ton of stone upon it.” “Well, then, we must hack through the door with our cutlashes, and let the stone down.” “What’s that?” cried Archy excitedly,—“a light!” For there was a dull report and a flash of blue like lightning; and, running down the slope, the midshipman beheld that which sent a thrill of terror through him. For, away toward the far end of the cave, there was a great pool of flickering blue light; and, as it lit up the ceiling and the huge square stone supports of the place, he saw that which explained the meaning of what had seemed to be a wonderful phenomenon. There, beyond the flickering pool of blue and yellow flame, which was rapidly spreading in every direction, he could dimly see quite a wall of piled-up kegs, one of which lay right in the edge of the pool of fire, and suddenly exploded with a dull report, which blew the tongues of fire in all directions, half extinguishing them for the moment, but instantaneously flashing out again in a volume of fire, which quadrupled the size of the pool, and began to lick the sides of the kegs. “The wretches! They fired the spirits before they escaped,” cried Archy, who realised to the full what had been done; and, for the sake of our common humanity, let us say it must have been an act of vindictive spite, aimed only at the destruction of the proof spirit, so that it might not fall into the sailors’ hands—not intended to condemn them to a hideous death. “Back quick to the entrance! We must hack down that door,” roared Archy. “Ay, ay,” shouted the men, who the moment before were mad with terror, but who leaped at the command as if their safety were assured. “No, no!” shouted the midshipman, as a fresh keg exploded; and in the flash of flame which followed, the place glowed with a ghastly light. “Yes, sir, yes!” shouted the men. “I tell you no,” cried Archy; “we should be burned or suffocated long before we could get that open.” And, as in imagination he saw the men fighting and striving with one another to get to the trap-door, which remained obstinately closed, he clapped his hand on Mr Gurr’s shoulder. “I know another way,” he cried. “Follow me.” “Hurrah!” yelled the men, and the lad had taken a dozen steps toward the pool of fire, when a wild shout came from near the entrance. “All! Who’s that?” cried Archy, as he mentally saw a wounded man being left behind. “Don’t leave a poor fellow to be burnt to death, Mr Raystoke,” cried a familiar voice. “Ram!” cried Archy, running back to where the boy lay bound behind a pile of stones, forgotten for the time, and unheeded by his companions. “Yes, it’s me,” said the boy excitedly. “Quick! Get up. Can you walk?” said Archy, cutting him free. “Yes,” cried the lad. “Then come on!” “For the top passage,” whispered Ram. “That’s the only way now.” “Yes. Follow me.” The midshipman had hardly given the command when there was another explosion, a fresh flash of fire, which nearly reached them, and he saw beyond the dancing tongues of flame the black opening he sought. But this fresh explosion—one of which he knew scores must now rapidly follow—checked him for the moment, and he saw that Ram had disappeared. “It’s our only chance, my lads,” cried Archy. “Are you all ready?” “Ay, ay.” “Hold your breath, then, as you get to the fire, and follow me.” “Through that blaze, my lad?” whispered the master. “Yes. Don’t stop to talk. Now, then,” roared Archy, “come on!” “Hurrah!” cried the men wildly; and Archy dashed forward, but was thrown back, and had to retreat, as a fresh keg exploded and added to the size of the pool, now almost a river of fire many yards wide. “It’s now or never!” cried Archy frantically, and he rushed into the blue flames, which leaped about his feet and up as if to lick his face. A dozen strides, splashing up blue fire at every step, and he was through it, and where a faint current of cold air seemed to be meeting him. Almost as he reached the farther side, the men came leaping and yelling after him, to stand beating the tongues of fire from their feet and legs. Bang—bang—a couple more explosions, and the men crowded up to Archy, the master included, as if to ask what next. “Are you all here?” “Ay, ay, sir.” “And that boy?” “I’m here,” cried Ram. “Quick, before they all go off.” “Yes,” said Archy. “Forward!” He led the way into the darkness once more, but into an atmosphere which he could breathe. Then up the familiar way, with its rugged steps, and on to the newly mortared wall, with its loophole, through which the glorious light of day streamed. “Now, my lads, cutlasses here. That wall’s new. Four of you work, and loosen the stones, the others take them and throw them back below.” The men cheered, and, headed by Mr Gurr and Dick, worked as they had never worked before. The stones were hard to move at first, but it was child’s play compared to the toil through which the young midshipman had gone when he attacked the wall. First one yielded, then another, and, as they were dragged out, the men cheered, and passed them back to those down the rough steps. With every stone removed, hope strengthened the little party; but as the explosions followed fast, and the flames began to flicker and play up the passage in which they were penned, Archy closed his eyes for a few moments to mutter a prayer, for his thoughts were getting wild. Just then, he knew that some one else thought as he did, for a hand touched his arm, and a voice whispered,— “It wasn’t my fault. It must have been Jemmy Dadd. I say—case they can’t make a way out in time—shake hands once, mate. I do like you.” Something like a hysterical sob burst from the young midshipman’s breast at this; and, facing death as he was just then,—a horrible death which might follow at any moment,—the lad’s hand grasped that of his young gaoler—officer and smuggler, but both boys of one blood, who had fought each according to his lights. “Hah!” sighed Ram, as he gripped hard, and then let go. “Now, then, tell ’em to shove the stones, sharp, and let ’em fall out. Quick! Before the powder ketches.” “Powder?” said Archy in an awe-stricken whisper. “Yes; there’s a lot not far from the kegs.” The men cheered, as the fresh order was given, and a new set took the places of those who were growing weary, sending the stones out rapidly, till there was room for a man to creep through. “Here, Ram, you through first, and show them how to climb on the shelf.” “No, no, you lead, Mr Raystoke,” cried the master. “Silence, sir! I know what I’m doing,” yelled Archy. “Out with you, Ram.” The boy went through like a rabbit, passing something dark before him, and then rapidly one by one the men followed, with the flames roaring horribly now below, and explosion after explosion following quickly, the cave rapidly becoming a reservoir of fire. “Hurrah! That’s all,” cried Mr Gurr. “Now, Mr Raystoke.” “No, sir, you.” “I say you.” “And I—” Archy yielded to his superior in the expedition, crept out, and the master was following, and got stuck, but a fierce tug from a couple of the men set him free, and he had only just joined the two boats’ crews standing side by side on the shelf of rock, when the whole cliff seemed to shake; and, as if the passage they had left were some vast cannon, the artificial wall left was blown right out by an awful burst of flame, the stones hurtling down as if the end of the cliffs had come, and falling with a mighty splash into the chasm. The men stood white and awe-stricken, expecting the cliff to crumble away beneath them, but save that a stream of fire roared out of the opening, all was now still. Then, in the midst of the awe-inspiring silence, Ram spoke,— “I thought it wouldn’t be long before the powder caught;” and then, before any one could reply, the lad said quietly, “I didn’t want to be burnt to death. Better go to prison for smuggling. I say, I got this rope. Hadn’t we better make it fast somewhere, and then you can all get down to the big shelf? I’ll come last, and unfasten it.” “And then how will you get down?” said the master suspiciously. “Oh,” said Ram, laughing, “I can climb down; can’t I, orficer?” “Yes,” said Archy quietly. “He can get down. You will not try to escape, will you, Ram?” “No; not I. What’s the good?” said Ram sadly. “It’s all over now.” The rope was made fast, and by its help the men easily reached the great ledge, Ram coming down soon after with the coiled-up rope about his shoulder and under one arm. “Couldn’t have got away if I wanted to,” he said, laughing frankly in Archy’s face. “I say, I am hungry! Aren’t you? Don’t I wish I’d got one of mother’s baskets full of good stuff!” “Where’s your mother?” asked Archy. “Up at the farm.” “And your father?” “Oh, he went off in the lugger this morning, after they’d tried to run a cargo. Your cutter was too quick for them though. We tried to get out to her, but the skipper sent a shot at us, and we came back here, only you saw us, and run us down.” “Where do you suppose your men are now?” asked Archy. “Don’t know, and if I did, I wouldn’t tell,” said the boy bluntly. “I say,” he added, after a pause, “I give you a pretty good run last night, didn’t I?” “You young dog!” growled the master. “Well, if I hadn’t, you’d have found the way in yonder, and I wasn’t going to let you if I could help it.” “Ah, you’ll be hung, sir.” “Get out!” cried Ram. “Your skipper wouldn’t hang a boy like me. Think the cutter will be long?” said the boy after a pause, during which all had been watching the flame which seemed to flow out of the opening far overhead. “I don’t know; why?” replied Archy. “Because she’ll have to come and take us off. This rope’s long enough, and we shall have to slide down into a boat.” But the cutter was long. For the lugger had escaped to Holland consequent upon the White Hawk being so short-handed, and it was toward evening that she came close in to search for the crews, and all the party descended in safety to the boat, which rowed under in answer to the signals made by firing pistols. As to the boats that passed under the archway, they were prisoned till the next low water. “Satisfied?” said the lieutenant, after all were on board, and he had heard the report. “More than satisfied. I was horribly disappointed at losing the lugger, and I made a hard fight for it, but your news—my dear boy—my dear Mr Gurr, this is splendid! What a despatch I can write!” “It will be the breaking up of the gang, will it not, sir?” asked Archy. “Yes, my dear boy; and an end to this wretched work. They must promote me now, and draft you, too, into a good ship. If we can be together, Mr Raystoke, I shall be delighted.” That same night, as he was thinking about Ram Shackle, Archy went up to the lieutenant, who was walking up and down rubbing his hands. “Beg pardon, sir, but may I ask a favour?” “A dozen if you like, Raystoke, and I’ll grant them if I can. Want a run ashore?” “No, sir. I want you to be easy with that boy. He was very kind to me when I was a prisoner.” “Hum! Hah! Well, I don’t know what to say to that. Here, my man, fetch that boy on deck.” Ram came up, whistling softly, and looking sharply from one to the other. “Now, sir, take off your cap,” said the lieutenant sternly. Ram did not look a bit afraid, but he doffed his red cap. “I suppose you know, sir, that you’ll be sent to gaol?” “Yes.—I knew you wouldn’t hang me.” “And pray what have you to say for yourself?” “Nothing that I knows on,” said Ram. “Yes, I have. I say father’s gone, and I dessay he won’t come back for ever so long, and I don’t want to go among the Dutchmen. May I stop here ’long of him? There won’t be no more smuggling to do.” “You mean you want to volunteer for His Majesty’s service?” “Yes, that’s it,” said Ram cheerfully. “May I?” “Yes,” said Lieutenant Brough shortly. “There; you can go below.” Ram waved his red cap, tossed it in the air, and turned to Archy. “I say, orficer,” he said, “I know where your little sword is. You send one of your chaps to-morrow to mother, and tell her I’m aboard and going to be a sailor, and she’s to give him your little sword as father put in the top drawer.” Archy’s eyes sparkled, for the loss of his dirk was a bitter memory. “Humph!” said the lieutenant, as Ram went below; “not a bad sort of boy. Well, Mr Raystoke, will that do?” Archy shook the hand held out, and went aft to gaze at the cliff, feeling that somehow he liked Ram Shackle. Then he turned, rather despondent, for he knew that the next day there would be an expedition ashore, when visits would be paid to the farm and to the Hoze, and he felt uncomfortable about the Graemes. <hr> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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