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Cutlass and Cudgel

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<h3>Chapter Six.</h3> Ram had thrown himself down, dressed as he was, so that an interview with a bucket of water at the back door, and a good rub with the jack towel, were sufficient to brighten him up for the breakfast waiting, and the boy was not long before he was partaking heartily of the bowl of bread and milk his mother placed before him, his father muttering and grumbling the while to himself. “I’m sure you needn’t be so cross this morning, master,” said Mrs Shackle reproachfully. “If you had as much to fret you as I do, wife, you’d be cross.” “Why, you told me this morning that you carried your crop of sea hay without a drop of water on it.” Farmer Shackle shut one eye, tightened up his mouth, and looked with his other eye at his wife, which was his idea of laughing. “Well, then,” she said, “what makes you so cross?” “Cross! Enough to make any man cross. I shall be ruined—such a set of careless people about me. Those cows left out on the cliff field all last night, and Tally must have gone over, for I can’t see her anywhere.” “Oh, poor Tally! My kindest cow,” cried Mrs Shackle. “Yes, I shall set that down to you Ramillies. That’s a flogging for you if she isn’t found.” “No, no, master; don’t be so hard. The poor boy was out all night looking after signals and—” Bang! Down came the farmer’s fist on the table making the plates and basins jump. “Hay, woman, hay!” he roared. “Mind what you’re talking about!” “Don’t do that, Blenheim!” cried Mrs Shackle. “You quite frightened me.” “Yes, I’ll frighten the whole lot of you. Ten golden pounds gone over the cliff through that boy’s neglect.” “Well, never mind, dear. You made ever so much more than that last night, I’ll be bound!” “Will you hold your tongue?” roared the farmer. “There, make haste and finish that food, boy. Take Jemmy Dadd and the boat and find her. Skin’s worth a few shillings. I must have that.” “Did you look over the cliff, father?” asked Ram. “I looked over? Of course, but how could I see in that fog?” Ram was soon out and away, to hunt up Jemmy Dadd, whom he found at last with his eyes half-closed, yawning prodigiously. They went down to the boat, launched her, and rowed out along under the tremendous cliffs, and were about to give up in despair, convinced that the unfortunate cow had been swept right out to sea, when Ram exclaimed— “Look yonder, Jem?” “What for?” grumbled the man; “I’m half asleep, now.” “Never mind that! Look at the cutter.” “Shan’t! I’ve seen un times enough.” “Yes, yes; but look on her deck.” “What for?” said Jemmy, who was steadily pulling homeward. “Oh, what an obstinate chap you are, Jemmy! Look there; Tally’s on deck.” “Ck!” ejaculated the man, this being meant for a derisive laugh. “Why don’t you say she’s having a ride in the Saxham coach.” “I tell you she is. They’ve got her there, and the sailors are trying to milk her.” “Then I wish ’em luck,” said Jemmy. “There’s only one man as can milk Tally, and that’s me.” “Turn the boat’s head, and let’s go for her.” “Ck!” ejaculated Jemmy again. “What a one you are to joke, Ram Shackle; but it won’t do this mornin’. I’m burst up with sleep.” “Open your stupid eyes, and look for once. I tell you they’ve got Tally on the deck of the cutter.” “And I tell you, you young Ram Shackle, I’m too sleepy to see fun anywhere. Won’t do, my lad—won’t do.” Ram jumped up, stepped over the thwart, seized the man’s head, and screwed it round toward the cutter, where the scene previously described was plain in the sunshine. “Well!” ejaculated Jemmy, “so she be.” “Why couldn’t you believe me before, when I told you?” “Thought you was gammoning me, my lad!” “There, row away!” cried Ram; and as soon as they were well within hearing he answered the hail, and next shouted— “I’ve come after our cow.” “Very undignified proceeding, Mr Raystoke,” said the lieutenant, busily walking up and down as the boat with Ram in it was being rowed alongside. “It all comes of being appointed to a wretched, little cobble boat like this, and sent on smuggling duty. If I—if we had been aboard a frigate, or even a sloop-of-war, we shouldn’t have had such an affair as this. Why, confound that boy’s impudence, he has jumped on board. Go and speak to him; order him off; pitch him overboard; anything. How dare he!” Archy drew himself up, laid one hand upon his dirk, and strutted up to Ram, looking “as big as a small ossifer,” as Dirty Dick said afterwards; and gave him a smart slap on the shoulder as he was going after the cow. “Here, you sir!” cried Archy, as the boy faced round. “What do you mean by coming aboard one of His Majesty’s ships like that?” “Eh?” “Touch your hat, sir, when an officer speaks to you.” “Touch my hat to you like I do to Sir Risdon?” “Like you do to any gentleman, sir.” “Oh, very well,” said Ram giving one of his fair brown curls a tug, and showing his teeth. “That’s better. Now then, what do you want?” “Our Tally.” “Your what?” “Our cow, Tally.” “How do I know it’s yours?” “Why, it is. She must have walked over the cliff in the fog. Was your cutter close under so as she fell on deck?” “Of course not, bumpkin,” said Archy impatiently, as the men burst into a guffaw, and then looked horribly serious as if they had not smiled. “We saw her swimming and fetched her on board.” “Thank ye,” said Ram. “I say, how am I to get her home? Can you lend us a rope?” “Who are you, boy?” said the lieutenant, marching up. Ram faced round, stared at the officer’s rather shabby uniform, and gave his curl another tug before pulling his red cap over his brow. “Ram Shackle, sir.” “Is—is that your name, sir,” said the lieutenant pompously, “or are you trying to get a laugh at my expense?” Ram stared. “Do you hear what I say, sir?” “Yes, but I dunno what you mean.” “Here, my man, what’s that boy’s name?” cried the lieutenant to Jemmy Dadd in the boat. “Ram Shackle,” said Jemmy gruffly. “Christen Rammylees!” “And is this your cow?” “No, sir!” “Then, you young rascal, how dare you come and claim it,” cried the lieutenant wrathfully. “Because it’s ours. My father’s; I didn’t mean it was my own.” “Can you give me some proof that it is yours?” said the lieutenant. “Eh!” exclaimed Ram, staring. “I say, show me that the cow is yours, and you shall have her.” “Oh,” cried Ram, and he ran to the side, unfastened the rope used as a halter for the patient beast, ran right forward, and began to call, “Tally, Tally! Coosh-cow, coosh-cow!” The effect was magical, the cow turned sharply round, stretched out her nose so as to make her windpipe straight, and uttered a low soft lowing, as she walked straight forward to where Ram stood, thrust her nose under his arm, and stood swinging her tail to and fro. “Mr Raystoke!” “Ay, ay, sir!” said Archy, going aft and saluting. “It seems to be their cow; let them take it ashore.” “Ay, ay, sir!” “Stop. Bring the boy here,” said the lieutenant. Archy marched forward. “Come here, boy,” he said importantly; and Ram followed him to where the little fat officer stood near the helm, frowning. “Now, sir,” said the lieutenant, “I want you to answer me a few questions. What is your name—no, no, stop, you told me before. Where do you live?” “Yonder, at the farm.” “Oh! At the farm. Look here, boy, did you ever hear of smugglers?” “What?” “Did you ever hear of smugglers?” “Yes, lots o’ times,” said Ram glibly. “They’re chaps that goes across to France and foreign countries, and brings shipfuls o’ things over here.” “Yes, that’s right. Ever seen any about here?” “Well,” said Ram, taking off his red cap, and scratching his curly head, “I dessay I have. Father says you never know who may be a smuggler: they’re all like any one else.” “Humph! Know where they land their cargoes?” “Oh, yes; I’ve heard tell as they land ’em all along the cliff here.” “Bah! Impossible,” shouted the lieutenant. “Is it, sir?” said Ram vacantly. “My father said it was true.” “Seen any smugglers’ craft about during the last few days?” “No, sir; not one,” cried the boy with perfect truth. “That will do, boy. Mr Raystoke let him take his cow and go.” “Ay, ay, sir!” “Then get the gig alongside, and we’ll explore round more of the coast close in.” “Ay, ay, sir! Now, boy, this way.” Ram looked vacantly about him, but there was a very keen twinkle about his eyes, as he followed Archy forward to where the cow stood blinking her eyes, and swinging her tail amongst the men. “I say,” he said. “Did you speak to me, sir?” cried Archy, facing round, and frowning. “Yes. Is that little sword sharp?” “Of course.” “Pull it out, and let’s have a look.” Archy frowned. “Take your cow and go,” he said. “She is a miserable thing without a drop of milk in her.” “What?” cried Ram, with his face becoming animated. Then he shouted to the man in the boat, “Hi! Jemmy, he says Tally’s got no milk in her.” “How do he know?” cried Jem scornfully. “Why, I tried ever so long,” said Dick, who could not refrain from joining in. “Ck!” laughed Jemmy. “Why, she’s our best cow,” cried Ram. “I say skipper.” “Here, you mustn’t speak to an officer like that,” whispered Archy. “What does the boy want?” said the plump little lieutenant, marching forward. “On’y want our cow.” “Then take her, sir, and go!” “Have a drop of milk?” “No,” said the lieutenant, turning his back. “Perhaps Mr Raystoke here might like a little. Can you milk?” “I can’t,” said Ram, shaking his head. “He can. Here, Jemmy, take hold of the painter and come aboard.” “Stop!” cried the lieutenant, “you must not speak like that. You must ask leave, sir.” “Ask who?” said Ram, vacantly. “Touch your cap, and ask the lieutenant to let you.” “Why, I have touched it twice. Want me to pull my hair off? I say, skipper, if you’ll let him come aboard—oh! He is aboard now,”—for Jemmy was already making the boat fast—“Here, give me a clean pail.” The little commander of the cutter tried to look important, and Archy more so, but they forgot everything disciplinarian the next moment, in the interest of the proceedings, as Jemmy Dadd took the bucket handed to him, turned another up beside the side of the cow, and as he was sitting down, Dirty Dick dug his elbows into his messmates’ ribs right and left, whispered “Look out! And over he goes.” Then he drew in a long breath, ready for a roar of laughter when the bucket went flying, and stood staring waiting to explode. But, to Dick’s great disappointment, Tally uttered a soft low, and began to swing her tail gently round, so as to give Jemmy a pat on the back. At regular intervals there was a whishing noise, then another whishing noise half a tone lower, then whish—whosh—whish—whosh, two streams of rich new milk began to pour into the bucket, whose bottom was soon covered, and a white froth began to appear on the top. “I say!” cried Dick eagerly, “shall I lash her legs?” “What for?” growled Jemmy. “’Cause she’ll kick it over directly.” “Not she. You wouldn’t kick it over, would you, Tally, old cow?” The cow waved her tail and whisked it about the man’s neck as the milking went on, to the delight of the men, who began to see biscuit and milk in prospect, while the two officers, who were none the less eager for a draught as a change from their miserable ordinary fare, veiled their expectations under a severe aspect of importance. “Here you are,” said Jemmy, drawing back at last—while Dick seemed to be watching, in a state of agony, lest a kick should upset the soft white contents of the bucket—“More’n a gallon this time. How much are we to leave aboard?” “All of it,” said Ram generously; “they deserve it for saving the cow. I say, you,” he continued, turning to Archy, “what do you say to her now?” “Thank you,” replied Archy. “Here, Dick, take that bucket aft, and you, my lads, open the side there, and help them to get the cow overboard.” “Thank ye, sir,” said Ram, smiling. “I say, Jemmy, she’d stand in the boat, wouldn’t she? Or would she put her feet through?” “Let’s try,” was the laconic reply, and taking hold of the rope that had been used as a halter, the man stepped down into the boat, the cow, after a little coaxing, following, without putting her feet through, and showing great activity for so clumsy-looking a beast. Ram followed, and took one of the oars, settled down behind Jemmy, and the next minute, with the whole crew of the cutter standing grinning at the side, they began to row shoreward. “How about the tide, Jemmy?” said Ram, when they had been rowing a few minutes, with the cow standing placidly in the boat. “Too high, can’t do it,” said the man. “Let’s row to the ledge then, and land there till the tide goes down.” “Right,” said Jemmy, and they bore off a little to the east, made straight for the shelf of rock, which was just awash; and as they rowed, they saw the lieutenant and the midshipman enter the light gig, four men dropped their oars in the water, and with the drops flashing from the blades, the gig came swiftly after them. “Why, they’re coming here too, Jemmy,” said Ram, as they reached the ledge, and leaped on to the ammonite-studded stone, over which the water glided and then ran back. “Well, let ’em,” said Jemmy, following suit with the painter, the cow standing contentedly with her eyes half-closed. “Don’t matter to us, lad, so long as they didn’t come last night.” They made fast the hawser to an iron stanchion, one of several dotted about and pretty well hidden by the water, climbed up on the rock, and sat down in the warm sunshine to wait for the turn of the tide, while after a pull in one direction, the gig’s course was altered, and they saw its course changed again. “I liked that chap,” said Ram, as he gazed across a few hundred yards of smooth water, at where Archy sat in his uniform, steering. “What are they up to?” said Jemmy, shading his eyes. Then quite excitedly, “Say, lad, lookye yonder,” he whispered. “I was looking,” cried Ram excitedly; “they’ve picked up a brandy keg.” There was no denying the fact; and as the dripping little barrel was placed by one of the men in the fore part of the gig, the others gave way, and the light vessel came rapidly now toward the ledge. Archy was shading his eyes just then, and pointing out something to the lieutenant a little to the left of where Ram and his companion were seated, and the boy’s eyes, trained by his nefarious habits, gazed sharply in search of danger or criminating evidence, in the direction the midshipman pointed. A chill of horror ran through him, for there, with the wash of the tide half covering and then leaving them bare, were two more brandy kegs, which had been missed the previous night during the fog. “Ah!” ejaculated Ram, as in imagination he saw the well-filled vault, and the crew of the cutter being marched up to make a seizure, and arrest his father perhaps. If he could but get away and give the alarm! <hr> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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