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Cutlass and Cudgel

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<h3>Chapter Ten.</h3> Half an hour after, a dirty-looking sailor lad slipped down into the boat, with his worsted cap pulled well down over his eyes, and an uncomfortable feeling about his chest, as he sat back in the stern-sheets by Gurr the master. “Lay your backs well into it, my lads,” said the lieutenant, “and try and land him without being seen.” “Ay, ay, sir!” came from the men, the boat began to surge through the still water, and the boy tried to shift the lion’s head which formed the top of his dirk handle. This he had placed inside the breast of his woollen shirt, ready for use if wanted, but it promised to hurt him more than any enemy, and he wished he had left it on board. “No talking, lads,” said the master, “and don’t splash.” The oars had been muffled, and they glided along through the faint mist, in a ghostly way, well in the shadow of the cliffs, Gurr keeping up a whispered conversation with the lad by his side. “It’s no use to ask you ’bout where you are going first, sir,” whispered the master, “because I suppose it will all be chance. But you’ll go up to the farm, eh?” “Yes, I shall go there.” “And up to that big house?” Archy was silent. “Ah, well; it’s your plan, and you must do what you think’s best, only take care of yourself, and if they’re after you, don’t make for the sea, that’s where they’ll think you would go. Make inland for the woods, and hide there.” Archy nodded, and no more was said during the dark journey. They were so close to the huge wall of rocks that it seemed as if they were alive with strange marine creatures, which kept on writhing and whispering together, and making gasping and sucking noises, as the tide heaved and sank among the loose rocks and seaweed, while Archy could not divest himself of the idea that they were watched by people keeping pace with them higher up on the top of the cliff. “Wonder whether those two have landed the cow by this time?” whispered Gurr, breaking in upon one of Archy’s reveries, in which he saw himself following a band of smugglers laden with contraband goods. “I don’t know,” he replied. “We must take care they do not see us.” “Not likely on a dark night like this. Won’t be so foggy, though, as ’twas last.” Nothing was seen or heard of the late prisoners’ boat, and for very good reasons; and at last they found themselves abreast of the opening into the cove, where they lay upon their oars for a time listening. All was still. Not a sound to be heard on either of the luggers lying at their buoys, and no light was visible at the cottages at the head of the little bay. “I might venture now,” whispered Archy. “Have me rowed close in to the shingle beach on the right, not close ashore, but so that I can wade in. I shall drop over the side where it’s about two feet deep. Let them back in and we can try the depth with the boat-hook.” The order was whispered, the boat glided in through the broad opening, was turned quickly, and then the men backed water till told to stop, Archy, who had the boat-hook over the side, suddenly finding it touch the shingly bottom at the depth of about a foot. “Good-bye,” he whispered, and, gliding over the side, he softly waded ashore and stood on the beach. It looked light in front, where the limestone rocks had given place to chalk, but to right, left, and seaward, all was black as night, and stepping cautiously along, the lad approached the cottages, listening attentively, but not hearing a sound save the gurgling of water as it trickled under the stones on its way to the sea. As he reached the track leading past the cottages he had a narrow escape from falling over a boat that was drawn up on the stones, but he saved himself with a jerk; and, feeling hot with the sudden start, he turned and crouched down, but there was not a sound to indicate that he had been heard, and drawing a long breath he stepped on to reach the hard earth where his feet were not among the water-worn pebbles, and in a few minutes he was on the road he had traversed twice that day, and walking fast toward the farm. Once or twice he hesitated, for the way lay so low down in the valley, with the hills towering up to such a height on either side, that the night seemed as dark as during the fog of the previous night; but he got along over the ground pretty well in spite of its seeming more hilly and rough, till at the end of about an hour and a half he felt that he must be approaching the farm, and he advanced more cautiously, listening for footsteps and voices from time to time. There was a good broad green marge to the lane about here, and he stepped on to it, the turf deadening his footsteps. “But I don’t recollect seeing this grass in the morning,” he thought; and then he stopped short, for it suddenly occurred to him that he had not come upon the cluster of houses where the people smiled and nodded at one another as they passed. “I can’t have trailed off into another road, can I?” he said to himself, as he felt quite startled and turned hot. He looked round, but it was too dark to make out anything, and he was about to start on again, comforting himself with the idea that he must be right, when he heard at a distance the pat-pat of feet on hard ground, and drew back close up to the side to stoop down among some brambles, which told him at once after their fashion what they were. “If I only dared ask whoever this is,” thought Archy, “I should do.” His thoughts took another direction directly, for, apparently about twenty yards away, he heard some one sneeze, and then mutter impatiently, followed by another sneeze. And all the while the regular pat-pat of footsteps came from his right, but not as he had come, for the sound was as if some one was approaching by a road which came at right angles to the one he was in. Archy crouched there, breathless and listening, wondering who the man could be who was perfectly silent now, but he had not moved away unless the turf had silenced his footprints. “How lucky it was I stopped!” thought the midshipman. “I should have walked right on to him and been caught.” The steps came nearer, and at last it seemed as if they were going to pass on, when a gruff voice from close by said,— “Well, lad?” There was a sudden stoppage, and an exclamation, and— “Made me jump, master.” “Don’t talk foolery,” said the first voice in impatient tones, and to Archy it was unmistakable. He had heard both voices before. “What have you made out?” “Nothing.” “No boat landed?” “Nor no sign o’ one, master. Both lads swear as no one has passed along the lane.” “Wouldn’t take the upper lane, would they?” “Not likely.” “Upper lane!” thought Archy. Had he taken the upper lane in the darkness, and so missed the men on the watch? “Didn’t hear the sailors say nothing on the cutter, did you?” “Not a word.” The middy’s heart seemed to give a throb. He did know that voice then. It was that of the man who had been detained with the boy, and this other, he was sure, was the voice of the farmer. “Going to keep on watching?” “Of course. They’ll be up to some game to trap us safe. Ought to get that stuff away.” “No, I wouldn’t, master; it’s safe enough now.” “You’re a fool,” came back in a savage growl. “Anybody but you and that mole-eyed boy would have seen the kegs before them sailors.” “Did see ’em—when it was too late,” grumbled the other. “Well, go back; and take off them boots, and hang ’em round your neck. I could hear you a mile away.” “Right.” “Go and tell ’em to keep a sharp look-out in the cove, and then to run the moment a boat comes in sight.” “No boat won’t come in sight to-night. Dark.” “Then the moment you hear one.” “They won’t come to-night, master.” “Go and do as I tell you,” said the other savagely. “It’s the farmer and his man,” thought the listener; “and there is something wrong.” He wondered what he had better do. Should he give notice to them on the cutter? The answer came at once. How could he? He had made no plans for that. “Off you go,” was said roughly, and the rustling sound seemed to indicate that the man had gone back toward the cove. Archy listened patiently for the next movement of the farmer, but he could detect nothing, and he was feeling sure that the man was still watching and listening, when he heard a sneeze at a distance followed by a muttering sound, and knew that he must have moved off. Without a moment’s hesitation the lad followed, keeping along the grassy marge of the road, and listening intently to make out at last the dull sound of steps, which told that the man who made them was walking barefoot. As far as he could judge now, Archy was in the proper road, and as he walked along he tried to understand what was going on, coming at last to the conclusion at which he had at first jumped, that something would be done that night if the farmer and his people were certain that they would not be disturbed. As he thought he walked cautiously on, wondering what he had better do, and seeing at last a bright light in front high up a slope, and another away to his right much higher. A little consideration told him that the first was at the farm; the other high up, facing toward the sea, must be up at the Hoze. Trusting more to chance than plan, the midshipman went on and on, following Farmer Shackle; the task becoming easy now, for as he neared the lights the man grew more careless, so that it was easy to trace his movements, which were evidently homeward, till a few minutes later Archy saw him pass the glowing window, swing open a door from which came a burst of light, pass in, and the door was closed. Archy stood outside with a vague belief that before long the man would come out, and perhaps go to the spot where the cargo was hidden. As he waited he could not help turning his eyes in the direction of the long, solitary house in the patch of woodland, and found himself wondering whether he should ever go up there again. After waiting about a quarter of an hour outside the farm, with his back against one of the roughly piled-up stone walls of the district, Archy began to think it was very dull, and his expectations of a discovery or an adventure grew less and less. All was very quiet at the farm, so quiet that he determined at last to go and peer in at the window to see if the farmer was likely to come out again, because if this were not so he was wasting his time. “But they are not likely to do anything without him,” he thought. Advancing cautiously, he entered the garden, and was just going up to the window, when the door was thrown open, and he dropped down behind a bush as the farmer strode out. “He must see me,” thought Archy. “What a position for an officer to be in!” “Eh?” exclaimed Shackle, turning sharply round, as if to answer his wife. “Oh yes. Ought to have been here by now.” This gave the midshipman a moment’s breathing time; and he had drawn himself up behind the bush by the time the farmer had closed the door, the sudden change from darkness to light preventing Shackle from seeing the spy upon his proceedings. Just as he was passing he stopped short, uttering an ejaculation; and feeling that he was seen, the midshipman was about to leap up, jump over the low wall, and run, when he heard steps. He lay still, hoping that this might have drawn forth the exclamation, but for the next few moments he was in agony. Then came relief. “That you, Ramillies?” “Yes, father.” “Well?” “I think it’s all right. Carts are coming, and all the lads are down the roads.” “All?” “No. Two of ’em’s down by the cove, but they won’t send anybody from the cutter to-night.” “Not so sure of it, my boy,—not so sure. Can’t be too careful. ’Tain’t as if we were obliged to move ’em to-night. Landing a cargo’s one thing; getting it away another. Well, we’ll try. You’re sure they’re keeping good watch at the cove?” “Yes, father.” “What sort of an officer did he seem on the cutter?” “Little, fat, sleepy chap.” “And the others?” “Don’t seem to be no others, only that cocky-hoopy middy, who came ashore with the men. I should like to ketch him ashore some day.” One of Archy’s legs gave a twitch at the first remark about him, and the twitch occurred in his right arm at the second. “Don’t chatter. Not very sharp sort of officer, eh?” “No, father. Sort of chap who’d go to sleep all night.” Archy began wondering. He had thought the boy a dull, stupid-looking bumpkin, and he was finding out how observing he had been. “Well, we’ll risk it, boy. Come along.” Archy’s heart gave a bound. Here was news! He had been growing dull and disheartened, thinking that his expedition was foolish and impossible, and here at once he had learned what he wanted. He knew that now all he had to do was to take advantage of every wall and tree, even to creep along the ground if necessary, and he would be able to follow the smugglers to the place where they had hidden the run cargo, watch them bring it out, and then track them to the fresh hiding-place. He would thus learn everything, and be able at daybreak to make his way to the cliff, signal for a boat, and a grand capture would be made. His heart beat high as he thought of the lieutenant’s delight, and of the joy there would be amongst the men, for this would mean prize-money, and perhaps the means of deluding the vessel that had brought the cargo into a trap, so that it could be captured, and more prize-money as well as honour be the result. It did not take him long to think all this; and then he rose cautiously and dropped down again, for the door was re-opened, and the light beamed out so that the watcher felt that he must be seen. “That my Rammy?” cried Mrs Shackle. “Yes,” growled the farmer; “keep that door shut and your mouth too.” “But do be careful, master. I don’t want him took prisoner again.” “It’s all right, mother.” “Come along, boy.” Archy heard the departing steps, and began to suffer a fresh agony of suspense. He could not stir, for the farmer’s wife stood at the open door, and the slightest movement would have caused a discovery; and all the time he could hear the footsteps growing more and more faint. “Oh!” he said to himself; “and it’s so dark I shan’t be able to tell which way they have gone.” What should he do? Start up and run? If he did the woman was certain to raise an alarm; and, knowing that, he could do nothing but wait till she went in, when he might chance to pick up the clue again. His heart beat so loudly that he felt as if it must be heard, but Mrs Shackle was too intent upon listening to the departing footsteps, which grew more faint till they died out entirely, and as they passed away the midshipman’s heart sank. “Had all my trouble for nothing,” he thought. “So near success, and yet to fail!” “Ah, deary deary me!” said a voice from close at hand, “I’m very sick and tired of it all. I wish he’d be content with his cows and sheep.” Mrs Shackle drew back as she said this, the door closed, and Archy sprang up, darted out of the gateway, and hurried along the path as fast as the darkness would allow, stopping from time to time to listen. For a long time he could hear nothing. He was descending the slope toward the road leading to the cove, as far as he could tell, for it seemed to him likely that the farmer and his son had gone in that direction; but as he went on and on, and was unable to detect a sound, he felt that he must be wrong, and stopped short, listening intently. “Bother the woman!” he thought; “it’s all through her. They’ll go and get all the cargo from the hiding-place, and take it somewhere, and I shall know nothing.” He bit his lip with disappointment, and gave an angry stamp on the grass. “I’ll go back, and try some other way.” Easy to determine, but hard to carry out in the darkness, and in a place which seemed quite changed at night. There should be a lane or track leading down to the cliff he knew, but where it was he could not say; in fact, at that moment, in his confusion, he could hardly tell for certain that he was on the road leading right away to the cove. “I may just as well be moving,” he said at last despondently. “Oh, if I could only have followed them up!” His heart gave a bound just then, for plainly on the night air came a dull sound, as of footsteps on grass. Then there was a whisper, and directly after he knew that a number of people were coming quickly toward him. A moment or two later he heard a rattling noise, which he recognised as that made by a horse shaking his harness, and once more Archy’s heart beat high. There had not been time for them—if those people coming were the smugglers—to fetch the cargo, and they must be coming in his direction. “What shall I do?” thought the watcher; “lie down and let them pass, or go on?” He decided on the latter course, and finding that he was in a lane bounded by stone walls, he went on, pausing from time to time to make sure that he was being followed. This proved to be the case, the people getting nearer and nearer, and it was a curious experience to hear the whispering of voices and trampling of feet coming out of the darkness. “Walking on the side turf,” said Archy to himself, as he kept on, to find after a few minutes that the stone wall on his left had ceased, but he could feel that the road went on, and heard the people coming. A minute or two later he realised that he was going up hill; then the slope grew steeper, and he paused again to listen. He was quite right. They were coming on steadily, and he knew that there must be twenty or thirty people; but he could hear no horses now. “They’ve stopped at the foot of this steep place,” he thought, as he went on and on, the people still advancing fast, and all at once, as he went on, a sudden thought ran through him like a stab. For he had guessed at least the direction in which he was going in the black darkness; he was once more ascending the slope toward the patch of woodland high up the hill, and the place of deposit of the smuggled goods must be the Hoze. <hr> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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