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Cutlass and Cudgel

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<h3>Chapter Thirty Eight.</h3> The discovery of the way through the cliff made clear to Archy several matters connected with the appearance and disappearance of Ram and his companion with the boat, for upon more than one occasion it had seemed impossible that they could have rowed six miles to the cove and come back again. And, excited as the midshipman was, these ideas occurred to him while running along over the top of the down-like cliff. On looking back beyond the first boat’s crew, the head of the second crew could be seen as they reached the top of the zigzag path, where the boatswain waited till the last man was up, and then gave the word for them to double after their fellows. Seeing that he was so well supported, the master felt that he was ready for any force the smugglers might have to back them up, and, turning to Archy, he suggested that the midshipman should point out the way into the smugglers’ cave, and then leave them to do the work. “It will be time enough to talk about that, Mr Gurr,” said Archy rather breathlessly, “when we have found the place.” “But I thought you had found it, my lad!” “After the tricks played us, I shall not be certain until I see you all right in the cave.” “But you think it’s close here?” “Yes; unless I am quite wrong, the old quarry is in that great cliff where the grass runs right up to the edge.” “Then if it’s there, and those fellows have gone in, we’ll find the way, and go in too.” “Oh!” ejaculated Archy, stopping short. “What’s the matter, lad?—hurt?” “No. The place is dark as pitch, and we have no lights.” “Then we’ll strike some with our pistol locks, and set fire to some wood. Never mind the lights. If it’s light enough for them, it will be light enough for us, lad. Let’s find the way in, and that will be enough. They won’t show fight. Let’s get on, and we shall be marching them all out tied two and two before they’re much older.” The party kept on along the rugged undulating top of the cliffs, till, after a careful inspection in all directions, Archy declared that they must now be over the cavern. The second boat’s crew had overtaken them now, and, upon receiving this information, the master spread his men out a few yards apart, to sweep the ground after the fashion observed on the previous night. “You must find it now, my lads,” he said. “I should say what you’ve got to look for is a hole pretty well grown over with green stuff right up at the end of a bit of a gully, and looking as if no one had been there for a hundred years.” “Yes, something like the mouths of the old quarries we have seen,” added Archy. “Then there’s something of the sort down yonder,” cried Dick, pointing to a spot where the ground seemed to have sunk down. “Yes,” cried Archy eagerly; “and that’s the place. Look here, Mr Gurr.” “What at, my lad?” “The grass.” “Well, we want to find smugglers, not grass, my lad.” “Yes, but don’t you see that some one has gone over here lately. The dew is all brushed off, and you can see the footmarks.” “I can’t, my lad. Perhaps you can with your young eyes.” “Oh, it’s all right,” growled the boatswain. “Keep a sharp look-out, then, and mind no one gets by.” The little force advanced, with the men spread out to right and left, the officers in the centre, following the trail which led right to the gully-like depression, once doubtless a well-worn track, but now completely smoothed over and grass-grown; and there, sure enough, as discovered only a short time before by Celia, was the scooped-out hollow filled with fern, bramble, and wild clematis, and the rough steps down, and the archway dimly seen beyond the loose stones. “Halt!” cried the master; and, after a careful inspection had shown that the footprints in the dewy grass had gone no farther than the entrance, the men were called up, and stood round the pit. There it all was, exactly as Archy had pictured it in his own mind: the loose stones at the bottom of the hole covering, he was sure, the trap-door he had so often heard opened and shut; but, as he went down a few steps in his eagerness, and scanned the place, he was puzzled and disappointed; for the trap-door, if that was the spot where it lay, was covered, and therefore the men could not be in the cave. “Bad job we’ve got no lanthorns,” said Gurr, who was looking over Archy’s shoulder at the low-browed arch of the passage leading right in; “and it looks bad travelling, but in we’ve got to go if they won’t surrender. Let me go first, my lad.” For answer the midshipman went down to the bottom of the rough steps, and stood over the trap-door on the loose stones. “No, no, my lad,” said Gurr kindly, as he joined him. “Too rough a job for you. I’ll lead, and, hang it! I shall have to crawl. Not very good work for one’s clothes. Come along, my lads. You, Mr Raystoke, and four men stop back, and form the reserve, to take prisoner any one who tries to escape.” The men descended till every step was occupied, the little force extending from top to bottom. “Stop a minute, Mr Gurr. Let the bo’s’n guard the entry here; I must go with you to act as guide.” “It aren’t all passage, then, like this?” “No; it’s a great open place supported by pillars, big enough to lose yourselves in. But stop; that can’t be the way, sir.” “Oh, hang it all, my lad!” cried the master in disappointed tones. “Don’t say that.” “But I do,” cried Archy. “There ought to be a trap-door covered with stones leading down a place like a well.” “Yes; that’s what we’ve come down.” “No, no, another. I think it was down here.” He stamped his foot on the loose stones, and then uttered a cry of joy, for there was a curious hollow sound, and on stooping down he pulled away some of the great shaley fragments, and laid bare a rough plank with a bolt partly visible. “Right! Got ’em at last,” cried Gurr. “Clear off more stones, my lads. No; stop!” he said. “Yes, I know what you are thinking, Mr Gurr,” said Archy. “The men couldn’t have shut themselves in there.” “Course not, my lad. But you are right, that’s the way down to their curiosity shop, and they’re hiding in this hole here.” Then, thrusting in his head, and holding on by the rugged stones, he shouted into the hollow passage,— “Now then, my lads, out you come!” A pause. “D’yer hear? The game’s up, and if you don’t come out quietly, we shall have to fetch you out on the rough.” Still no reply. “Come, come, my lads, no nonsense! Surrender. I don’t want to use pistols and cutlashes to Englishmen. You know the game’s up. Surrender.” Still no reply. “I don’t think that hole goes in far, Mr Raystoke,” whispered the master. “There’s no echo like, and it sounds smothered.” Then aloud,— “Now, then, is it surrender? Oh, very well; I’ve got some nice little round messengers to send in after you.” He drew a pistol from his belt and cocked it, winking at Archy as he did so. “Now, then, once—twice—fire!” He pointed the mouth of the pistol downward, and drew the trigger, and in the semi-darkness below the overhanging brambles and clematis there was a dull flash, the report sounded smothered, and the place was filled with the dank, heavy-scented smoke. “There’s precious little room in there,” whispered the master. “If there’d been much of it, we should have heard the sound go rolling along instead of coming back like a slap in the face. Here, one of you, reload that. You, Dick, follow me. If they show fight, you come on next, bo’s’n, with the whole of your boat’s crew.” “Ay, ay, sir.” “Hi! In there. Do you surrender?” There was not a sound, and, after a momentary pause, the master spat in his fist, gripped his cutlass, went down on all fours, after driving his hat on tightly, and crawled into the hole, followed by Dick. “Keep a cheery heart on it, lad,” said one of the men just before to Dick. “We’ll fetch you out and bury you at sea.” Dick drove his elbow into the man’s chest for an answer, grinned as he felt the point of his cutlass, and dived into the hole, while the boatswain and his men stood waiting eagerly, ready to plunge forward at the first sound of a scuffle. Archy peered in at the dark passage, his heart beating as he listened to the noise made by the two men crawling in, and the last of the two had hardly disappeared when there was a shout, a scuffle, and the boatswain plunged in. “All right!” they heard Gurr say. “I’ve got him. Hold still, you varmint, or I’ll cut your ears off. Here, Dick, get by me, and go forrard if you can.” There was more scuffling, and the rattle of a stone or two, as the listeners pictured in their own minds the man squeezing past the master and his prisoner, and then Dick’s voice came out in a half smothered way: “Can’t get no farther. All choked-up.” “All right, then, but make sure.” “Oh, I’m sure enough,” said Dick. “It’s all a stopper here.” “Then out you come, my lad,” said the master; and the next minute his legs were seed as he backed out, dragging evidently some one after him who was resisting. “Here, Dick,” came in smothered tones. “Ay, ay, sir.” “Says he won’t come. If he gives me any more of his nonsense, touch him up behind with the pynte of your cutlash.” “Ay, ay, sir.” “Yah! Cowards!” came in angry tones. “Ram!” exclaimed Archy, as the boy, looking hot and fierce, was dragged out by the master, to stand looking round him as fiercely as a wild cat. “Hullo!” cried Archy. “It’s my turn now, Ram;” but he repented his words directly, as he saw the reproachful look the boy darted at him. Then he forgot all directly, as he exclaimed,— “I see, Mr Gurr, I see! The smugglers are down here after all, and they left this boy behind to fasten the door, and cover it over with stones.” Unable to contain himself, Ram thoroughly endorsed the midshipman’s words by giving an angry stamp upon the bottom of the hole. “That’s it!” cried Gurr. “Here, chuck these stones into the passage, my lads;” and the rough trap-door was laid bare, the two bolts by which it was secured were seen to be unfastened, and the lock unshot. “No way out, Mr Raystoke, is there?” “No.” “Then we’ve got ’em trapped safe this time,” said Gurr, as the door was thrown open. “Bad job we’ve no lanthorns; but never mind, my lads. If they won’t surrender, you must feel your way with the pyntes of your toothpicks.” There was a murmur of excitement among the men, and then Gurr leaned down over the hole, put his hand to his mouth, and shouted,— “Below there! In the King’s name—surrender!” His words went rolling and echoing through the place, but there was no reply. “Once more, my lads, to save bloodshed, will you surrender?” No reply. “Very well. It’s your fault, my lads, and very onsensible. Bo’s’n, it’s a big place, and I shall want all my men. You’re all right here; with one you ought to be able to hold this.” “And the prisoner?” “No; we’ll take him with us. Here, lash his hands behind him, and tie his legs together. We’ll lay him down to have a nap somewhere yonder down below. That’s right,” he continued, as a man produced a piece of line, and firmly secured the boy, who was lowered down to one of the men who had descended, laid on the stones in a corner at the bottom; and then, after giving the word to be ready, Gurr braced himself up. “You’ll stop aside me, Mr Raystoke, and try and guide.” “Yes, sir.” “You understand, bo’s’n, down with the first who tries to escape up the hole here.” “Ay, ay.” “Then, now, forward!” cried Gurr; and, closely followed by Archy and his men, he descended into the old quarry, and then stood listening at the top of the slope, before preparing to advance into the enemy-peopled darkness right ahead. <hr> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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