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Cutlass and Cudgel

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<h3>Chapter Thirty Seven.</h3> “Can’t be, sir,” said Gurr, as he tried to pierce the darkness, “because the skipper must be lying at anchor where we left him.” “Hah! See that?” cried Archy, as the men bent to their oars and made the now phosphorescent water flash. “Only the oars, lad. Water brimes.” Thud! came the report of a heavy gun. “You’re right, lad! ’Twas the flash from a gun. Some one’s pursuing of something. Pull away, my lads, let’s get aboard, and the skipper may join in. Bah! What’s the good o’ shore-going? Man’s sure to get wrong there.” The men forgot their weariness in the excitement, as they realised that some vessel was in chase of a smuggler, but they murmured among themselves at their ill luck at being away from the cutter; for if they had been aboard at the first shot, the anchor would have been weighed or slipped, and the White Hawk gone to see what was going on, probably to help capture a heavily laden smuggler craft. “And we should have took our share, lads,” said Dick in a whisper. “Hey, boot we are out o’ luck.” “Don’t sit muttering and grumbling there, my lad, but pull hard, and let’s get aboard,” cried the master, and the oars dipped away in the dark sea, seeming to splash up so much pale lambent fire at every stroke. But this was no novelty to the men, and the boats sped on, one in the other’s wake, with the crew straining their heads over their left shoulders to catch a glimpse of the next flash which preceded the gun. “Good six mile away from where we are now,” said Gurr. “Oh, my lad, my lad, I wish we were aboard.” But it was a long pull from the cove to where the cutter lay, nearly a mile and a half from the shore, and, though the master and Archy kept straining their eyes to catch sight of their little vessel, she was invisible. As they rowed on, they kept on increasing their distance from the shore, steering so as to pass along one side of a right-angled triangle, instead of along by the cliff and then straight off; but, as the cutter showed no lights, this was all guess-work, and made the task rather anxious. The firing kept on, the dull thud of the gun being preceded by the flash, and at each notification of a shot the men gave such a tug at the stout ash blades that they bent, and the boat leaped through the water. “Hurrah! Morning,” cried Archy, and the men answered his remark with a cheer, for there was a grey light coming fast now in the east, but, to the utter astonishment of all, the cutter did not become visible. They gazed round excitedly as the light broadened, but there was no cutter where they expected she would be, but ten minutes later, dimly seen as yet, they made her out miles away under full sail, in chase of a long, low, three-masted lugger, at which she was keeping up a slow and steady fire. The men cheered as the direction of the boats’ heads was changed. “Pull, my lads, pull!” cried master and boatswain. The men responded with another cheer, and the water rattled under their bows. “It’s a long pull,” cried the master; “but as soon as she sees us, she’ll run down and pick us up.” “Hurrah!” shouted the men. “Well done, Mr Brough, well done!” cried Gurr excitedly. “Think of him, with hardly a man to help him, sailing the cutter, and keeping up a steady fire like that. Oh, Mr Raystoke, why aren’t we aboard?” “Ah, why indeed? There she goes again. I say, Mr Gurr, won’t she be able to knock some of her spars overboard.” “I wish I was aboard the lugger with an axe,” growled Gurr, shading his eyes; and then, placing his foot against the stroke oar, he gave a regular thrust with the man’s pull, a plan imitated by the boatswain on board the other boat. The light increased rapidly now, and the soft grey sky gave promise of a glorious day, but this did not take the attention of those on board the boats, who could see nothing but the lugger trying to escape, and gradually growing more distant, while the cutter kept on slowly, sending a shot in her wake, evidently in the hope of bringing down one of her masts. “What boat’s that, Mr Gurr?” said Archy at last, drawing the master’s attention to one in full sail in the opposite direction to that in which they were going. “Dunno, my lad. Never mind her. Lobster, I should say.” “Looks fast and smart for a lobster-boat,” thought Archy, as he kept glancing at the craft, whose aspect seemed to have a strange attraction for him alone. In fact, every eye was fixed upon the two vessels in the offing, while it seemed to Archy that the boat, which was sailing rapidly, had changed her course on seeing them, and was trying to get close up under the cliffs, apparently to reach the cove from which they had come. There was nothing suspicious in a sailing-boat making for the cove, but, as the middy looked at it, the boat heeled over in a puff of wind, and he fancied that he caught sight of a familiar figure behind the sail. It was only a momentary glance, and directly after he told himself it was nonsense, for the figure which had started up in the night, away on the cliff was Ram Shackle, and he could not be in two places at once. “We shall never do it, my lads,” said the master suddenly. “Easy—easy. It’s of no use to break your backs, and your hearts too. She’s sailing two knots to our one. Easy in that boat,” he shouted. “We can’t do it.” A low murmur arose from both crews. “Silence there!” shouted Gurr. Then, more gently, “I don’t want to give it up, but you can see for yourself, bo’s’n, we can’t do it.” “No,” came back abruptly. “It would only be hindering her too. No, Mr Raystoke, it’s only our old bad luck, and common sense says it’s of no use to fight again it.” “Mr Gurr,” said Archy excitedly, speaking with his eyes fixed on the sailing-boat. “Yes, my lad, what is it?” “Do you think it possible that yonder boat has had anything to do with the lugger?” “Eh? What?” cried the master sharply. “Haven’t got a glass. I dunno. They’re such a set of foxes about here that she might.” He shaded his eyes with his hand, and took a long look at her, and once more a puff of wind caught her sail and heeled her over, so that he could get a good look over her side. She was about a mile away, and well in toward the shore, keeping far enough from the cliffs to catch the land breeze, and now, as the task of catching up the cutter was given up as impossible, the boat took the attention of all. “Why, she’s got a lot of men in her,” cried Gurr excitedly; “nine or ten lying down in her bottom.” “Yes,” cried Archy; “and it doesn’t take ten men to catch a lobster.” “Ahoy, bo’s’n!” cried Gurr; “pull off to the west’ard sharp, and cut off that boat if she makes for that way. Try and head her in under the cliff where there’s no wind, if she tries to pass you. Look out! She has a lot of men on board.” The direction of the second boat was altered at once, the men began to pull hard; and just as a dull thud from seaward told that the White Hawk was still well on the heels of her quarry, the first boat turned smartly and began to chase. “I hope you’re right, Mr Raystoke,” said the master. “I should like to have one little bit o’ fun before we go back aboard. Ah, look at her! She don’t mean us to overhaul her. Be smart, my lads. Don’t cheer, but seem to be taking it coolly. You’re right, Mr Raystoke,” he added a minute later; “there’s something wrong with that boat, or she would not want to run away.” For the direction of the little yawl they were making for was suddenly changed, and it was evident that, seeing how the second boat, commanded by the boatswain, was going to head her off from the west, she was being put on the other course, so as to run east. But the first boat was going rapidly through the water now, and a turn of the helm changed her course, so that it would be easy to cut the yawl off from going in the new direction, while an attempt to pass between the boats and head straight for sea was also met by the steersmen of the pursuers. “Why, what’s she going to do?” said Gurr. “Ah, my lad, it’s all a flam. Only a lobster-boat after all. She’s going to run in under the cliffs where there’s no wind, and of course it’s to take up her lobster-pots.” “If she was only going to take up lobster-pots she wouldn’t have tried to run,” said Archy sharply. “I’d overhaul her, Mr Gurr.” “Going to, my lad. Don’t you be scared about that. I’ll overhaul her, if it’s only to get some fresh lobsters for breakfast. There, I told you so,” he continued, after a few minutes’ interval, during which the boat was sailing straight in for the cliffs, about five hundred yards away from the landing ledge, away to the west; and as the master spoke the mainsail was rapidly lowered, the jib dropped, and those in the White Hawk’s leading boat saw that there was a good deal of busy work on board; and before they had recovered from their surprise, several men rose up, oars were thrust over now that the wind had failed, and, with eight men pulling, they were going straight for the cliff. “Smugglers!” shouted Gurr excitedly. “Jump up, Mr Raystoke, and signal the bo’s’n to come on. We shall have a prize after all, though it’s only a little one. Pull my lads, pull?” The smugglers’ boat was now about half a mile away, the men in her pulling with all their might, but the King’s boat was the more swift, though after a few minutes’ chase it was evident that the start was in the smugglers’ favour. “Hang them! They’re going to run ashore. They’ve got a nook there, I’ll be bound, and as soon as they’re landed they’ll be scuffling up the side of the cliff. Pull, my lads, and as we reach the rock, out with you and chase them; you can climb as well as they can. If they’re getting away, cover them with your pistols, and tell ’em they shall have it if they don’t surrender.” The excitement was now tremendous: the cutter’s boat was going fast, and the second boat was closing up, so that it would be impossible for the smugglers to escape by sea. And now, as they drew nearer, Archy saw that his first surmise was right: Ram was in the boat, and right forward, his red cap showing out plainly in the morning light. Jemmy Dadd was there too, and Shackle, beside the big dark fellow who had tricked the lieutenant, while the rest of the crew were strong-looking fellows of the fisherman type. “Now then there!” shouted Gurr, rising up, but retaining his hold of the tiller with one hand. “It’s of no use. Surrender!” A yell of derision came from the boat, and Ram jumped up and waved his red cap, with the effect that it seemed as if some of the dye had been transferred to Archy’s face, which a minute sooner had been rather pale with excitement. “Pull, my lads, pull, and you’ll have them before they land!” cried the master, stamping his foot. “Here, take the tiller, Mr Raystoke;” and he shifted his position, passed the tiller to Archy, and stood up and drew his sword. “Starboard a little—starboard!” he said. “Run her right alongside, my lad; and you, my men, never mind your oars, the others’ll pick them up. The moment we touch, up with you, out with your cutlashes, and down with any man who does not surrender.” “Ay, ay, sir!” cheered the men. “Now, then,” shouted Gurr, “do you surrender?” A derisive laugh came from the smugglers, who pulled their hardest, pretty closely followed by the king’s boat, when, just as they seemed to be coming stem on to the rocks at the foot of the cliff, the four men on the starboard side suddenly plunged their oars down deep, backing water, while the men on the larboard pulled furiously, the result being that the head of the boat swung round, and she glided right out of sight behind a tall rock, which seemed part of the main cliff from a few yards out. A fierce cry of rage came from the master, but he was quick at giving directions, checking the course of his boat, and then proceeding cautiously; and having no difficulty in following under a low archway for some twenty yards,—a passage evidently only possible at extreme low water,—and directly after they were out again in broad daylight, and at the bottom of a huge funnel-like hollow, from which the rocky cliffs rose up some three hundred feet. It was a marvellously beautiful spot, but the occupants of the White Hawk’s boat had only eyes then for the smugglers, who had run their boat into a nook just across the bottom of the pool, and they had had time to leap on to the rock, and were rapidly climbing a rough zigzag path. “And us never to have been along here at the right time of the tide to find this hole!” thought Archy, as, in obedience to a sign, he steered the boat across the beautiful transparent pool, and laid her alongside the smugglers boat. Then oars were thrown down, the men sprang across the smugglers’ craft, and, headed by Archy and Gurr, began to climb rapidly after their enemies. “It’s of no use to call upon them to surrender,” said Gurr rather breathlessly, as they toiled up the zigzag. “We’ll make them do it later on,” cried Archy, whose youth and activity helped him to get on first. “Steady, my lad, steady!” “But I want to see which way they go.” “Right, but keep out of danger, my lad. If they show fight, keep back.” Archy heard, but made no reply, and toiled on up the rugged ascent, straining every nerve as he saw the last smuggler disappear over the top, and, at the next turn he made in the zigzag, he caught a glimpse of the ascent from top to bottom, with the sailors climbing up, and just then there was a fresh cheer, which made him turn swiftly again, to look round and see the second boat gliding through the rocky arch into the pool. It was rather risky, for he was on a narrow slippery place at one of the turns of the zigzag, and nearly lost his footing, but, darting out a hand, he caught at the rock, recovered himself, and climbed on, to reach the top just in time to see Ram’s red cap disappearing some four hundred yards away over a rounded eminence due west of where he stood. He glanced down again, and then, breathless as he was, ran on over the down-like hillside till he reached the spot where he had seen Ram’s red cap disappear, and here he stopped, to make sure of Mr Gurr seeing the direction he had taken, standing well up with his sword raised above his head in the bright sunshine. There was nothing visible but soft green rolling cliff top, and he looked vainly for some sign of the enemy, eager to go on, but taught caution, and not knowing but what Ram might have taken one direction to lure the pursuers away, while the men were in hiding in another. But, as he waited and scanned the place around, he suddenly caught sight of what seemed to be a rift against the sky in the edge of a cliff which rose up rapidly, and his heart gave a great throb. “Let Ram play what tricks he likes,” he said, “I know where I am now.” “Well, my lad, well!” panted Gurr, running up, followed by the men. “Don’t say they’ve got away!” “No,” cried Archy excitedly. “I think I can lead you to the foxes’ hole. This way.” And, as he spoke, there came in rapid succession a couple of dull thuds from seaward, and a cheer from the crew behind, as, led by Archy Raystoke, the men now went over the undulating cliff top at a trot. <hr> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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