Kitabı oku: «Highway Pirates; or, The Secret Place at Coverthorne», sayfa 7

CHAPTER XI.
THE LAST OF THE "TRUE BLUE."

Under the guidance of Lewis, who acted as pilot, we must have turned down a lane before reaching Tod's Corner, and on leaving the main road our two large lamps were promptly extinguished. The wonder was that the cumbrous vehicle was not overturned twenty times in the first mile. Any ordinary driver might have refused to make the attempt in broad daylight, and on a dark night it needed skill as well as courage, both of which, however, Rodwood seemed to possess in a marked degree. I heard afterwards that in his palmy days he had owned and driven a coach of his own, which no doubt accounted for the masterly way in which he handled the ribbons.

The hour would now have been considered late by country people. There was little chance of any one being about; the chief risk, and that a remote one, lay in the possibility of encountering and being challenged by a "riding officer," a branch of the preventive service whose duty it was during the night to patrol and examine lanes and byroads near the coast, and thus hamper the movements of the smugglers on shore. Though I did not know it till later, this chance of being stopped had been discussed by Lewis and the leader of the gang, who, in the event of such a thing taking place, was fully prepared to resort to desperate measures, and drove with a pistol ready cocked lying on the seat by his side.

On and on we went, jolting and lurching like a fishing-smack in a choppy sea. There was no singing now; the men, as might have been expected, were watchful, and intent on making good their escape. The coach's disappearance from the highroad might not be discovered for some hours yet; on the other hand, any belated farm-labourer, hearing or seeing us as we lumbered past in the darkness, would surely guess that something unusual was happening, and might raise an alarm.

It is difficult for me to recall my own personal feelings at this stage of the adventure. I think I had too much confidence in the good will shown by Lewis and the other men whom we had in a small way befriended to feel really afraid. I was chiefly curious to know where the hiding-place existed in which we should be so securely stowed. Perhaps it was some secret loft or cellar, many of which Miles had declared existed at Rockymouth. Here we should no doubt lie till the following evening, when the convicts would continue their escape by land or water, and George Woodley and I would be set free.

How long we continued jogging onward at a walking pace I cannot say; we should certainly have been overturned had we attempted to go faster, and even at that slow rate it seemed to me that we must have gone miles beyond our destination, and possibly have travelled far along some byroad running parallel with the coast. Then suddenly the coach stopped; there was a murmur of conversation, and we heard the men clambering down from the roof.

A moment later the door was opened, and a voice ordered us to dismount – a feat which it was not altogether easy for Woodley and me to accomplish, still fettered as we were, wrist to wrist. The moment I was outside the vehicle the fresh salt breath of the sea saluted my cheeks and nostrils. We stood on the high ground above Rockymouth, and the narrow lane along which we had come now emerged from between high hedges and cultivated ground, and crossed a stretch of open common or moorland. A mile distant, and far beneath us, the little haven snuggled down in the sheltering valley, the only sign of its existence being one tiny point of light from some cottage window where perhaps watchers sat beside a sickbed.

The last of the outside passengers was helped down from the roof as though he had suffered some injury and was partially disabled. I could not see clearly enough to distinguish what was really the matter with him, but I noticed that in all his subsequent movements he seemed to be led or supported by one of his companions.

By mutual consent the men gathered round us in a group, while the tired horses shook their heads and champed their bits. There we stood, a strange company, and in the silence, broken only by their heavy breathing, a feeling of apprehension began to take hold of me, and I wondered what would happen next.

"What's the time?" demanded Rodwood abruptly. "The guard's got a watch; just have a look, some of you."

The "flink" of a flint and steel was sufficient to show the position of the hands on the broad face of the old-fashioned timepiece, and a voice murmured, "Close on ten."

"Well, boys," began Rodwood, "the first question is, What's to be done with the coach? We can't go to sea in her; and if we leave her here, it's as good as giving the whole countryside information as to our whereabouts."

For a moment there was a silence. A coach and four is not a thing that can be hidden away in the nearest hedgerow, and hitherto the convicts had regarded it merely as a means of escape. At length the man named Nat, who had ridden inside as our guard, spoke up. He had struck me all along as a reckless rascal, and his suggestion certainly confirmed the opinion I had formed.

"Why not send her over the cliffs?" he asked. "No chance of her being found then. I know this coast – a sheer drop into the water in most places. The horses can be turned loose on the common, and I don't suppose they'll be noticed for a day or so. Even when they are found, no one can say very well where they come from."

This outrageous proposal seemed to appeal to the leader of the gang.

"Bravo!" he exclaimed. "Come on, my lads! Where's the 'free trader'? He'll show the way."

The idea of the old True Blue being wantonly hurled over the cliffs into the sea was too much for poor George Woodley. He burst out into a torrent of angry expostulations, but was promptly silenced by Rodwood, who flourished a pistol in his face, at the same time bidding him hold his tongue unless he wished to follow the coach on its last journey.

With Lewis and Rodwood in front, two men leading the horses, and the rest of the party, George and myself included, following behind in a sort of funeral procession, we went stumbling across the common. Once I thought I heard Lewis expressing some dislike to the business in hand, but his objections, if such they were, were speedily overridden. Rodwood was beginning to feel his feet more as leader of the party, and enforced obedience to his commands with a swagger and bluster which was well calculated to win respect from his jail-bird following. The murmur of the sea grew more and more distinct as we neared the dark line of headlands; then, at length, the swaying coach came to a standstill.

"Now, then, get their clothes off them!" ordered Rodwood.

The command had reference to the horses, from which the harness was speedily stripped and flung inside the coach. With a cut of the whip they were then driven off into the darkness. As the common extended some distance down the coast, it was probable that before daylight the animals would have strayed far from the spot where they had been liberated.

"Save the lamps," was the next command, "and see if there's anything in the fore or hind boot."

Owing to the peculiar character of its passengers, the coach was found to be carrying practically nothing in the way of luggage, except my own trunk and the one large hamper already mentioned, which had been pushed into the boot for conveyance to Castlefield, probably to relieve the mail, which was sure to be heavily laden at this time of the year. From the gruff remarks of the would-be plunderers, it was evident that they were disappointed. It was probably within the knowledge of most of them that a stage coach sometimes carried a valuable cargo; in fact, not more than two years after the date of my story a bank parcel containing notes and gold to the value of £5,700 was stolen from a coach running between Glasgow and Edinburgh – the thieves in this instance travelling as inside passengers, and cutting a hole with brace-bit and saw through the body of the coach into the boot, from which the plunder was then extracted.

However, a basket of provisions was, in a way, a valuable find; for the question of food was likely to become a serious problem before the members of the gang regained their full freedom. Rodwood therefore told off two of his followers to carry the basket, refused to allow the men to drink the other bottle of wine, and bade one of the party unhang the game from the lamp-iron and carry it slung over his shoulder.

My box was forced open and speedily overhauled; but as it contained little besides spare clothing, it was flung back into the coach. It would have been useless for me to expostulate and claim my property – the rascals were not likely to leave such a piece of evidence lying about on the grass – and I held my tongue.

"It's half-tide," I heard Lewis mutter. "There's a ledge of rock she'll land on, but the flood will carry off the wreckage."

The last moments of the True Blue had come.

"Turn her round and back her over," ordered Rodwood.

Awed by the thought of such wanton destruction, I stood with my eyes fixed upon the dark body of the coach, as for half a minute or so it rocked and swayed against the sky-line; then, with a subdued shout from the men, it suddenly disappeared. A moment later, from far beneath came a mighty crash of woodwork and the sharp tinkle of shivered glass.

George Woodley groaned, and ground his teeth with rage. But for the fact that we were still chained together and I held him back, I believe he would have rushed upon the gang and fought them with his bare hands.

"The murderous villains!" he muttered. "Fancy throwing a stage-coach into the sea, as if it were nothing more than an old fish-basket!"

"Steady, George," I whispered. "Keep your mouth shut. We're in the hands of these men, and they'll stop at nothing now to get their liberty. Be thankful they didn't knock us on the head at the first, or leave us tied to a tree to perish with the cold."

Once more the men instinctively formed a group round their leader, to learn what should be done next.

"I expect they're all abed in the village by this time," said Lewis; "still, there's nothing like making sure. There's a little place hereabouts where the rest of you can lie snug while I go down and put the oars in the boat, and see that all's quiet."

At the mention of the boat I pricked up my ears. Was it possible that some smuggling lugger was then off the coast, and that the gang were going straight on board? If so, what was to become of Woodley and myself? Surely they would not want to carry us with them across to France! In another hour, perhaps, we should regain our liberty.

A short distance away was a cavity in the ground – a sort of dried pit surrounded and overhung by gorse bushes. Into this, by Lewis's direction, we all crept, and lay or squatted in a huddled mass upon the ground. It was bitterly cold; my teeth chattered, and I was glad enough to creep close to George Woodley for the extra warmth. If Rodwood had been allowed to carry out his intention of binding us to a couple of trees in the lonely copse, the pair of us must certainly have been frozen stiff by morning. I could only hope that the shelter of the cottage and the warmth of the straw would preserve the warders and Tom from a similar fate.

It still wanted more than an hour to midnight, yet it seemed as if the darkness must have lasted a week, and I could hardly bring myself to believe that it was but a few hours since I had left the shelter of the Sportsman.

The convicts began to talk to each other in low tones, the chief topic of conversation being the likelihood of pursuit. Would the disappearance of the coach from the highroad have been discovered by now? This might or might not be the case. Breakdowns sometimes occurred which caused delay, and in case of anything serious the guard sometimes rode forward on one of the horses to obtain assistance.

"They must have been expecting of us at the stage beyond Tod's Corner," said one fellow; "and most likely after a time they'll send a man back as far as the last stopping-place. He'll hear we passed there all right, and then the question'll be what's become of us." The speaker chuckled, as though picturing to himself the astonishment of the stableman when it dawned on him that a coach and four, with guard, driver, and passengers, had apparently vanished into thin air, at some spot on the ten or twelve miles of dark, lonely road over which he had just ridden.

"It's bound to come out some time," answered a voice which I recognized as Rodwood's; "but it'll take time. Granted that the man has ridden back by now and found out that we're gone – well, what's he going to do? He and the rest will waste another hour talking; or perhaps they'll wait for the mail to come along, and tell the folks on that what's happened. Then it's ten to one they'll take it for granted that we've made off further inland. No; we're safe enough at present. With anything like luck we ought to have a fair start till morning."

Hardly had the words been uttered when there came a warning "Hist!" from some member of the gang whose sense of hearing must have been particularly acute. Men who go in constant peril of losing their liberty need no second hint of the presence of danger, and at once a deathlike silence prevailed. So infectious was the suppressed excitement that I felt the strain as much as if I myself had been an escaping prisoner. My heart thumped, and I held my breath, eager to ascertain the cause of the alarm.

For some moments I heard nothing; then, distinct and not far distant, there was a metallic tinkle as of a light chain. A pause followed, and then the sound was repeated, this time nearer to the pit, while at the same instant an exactly similar noise came from some little distance away in the opposite direction. On that wild spot, at such an hour, any sound not attributable to the wild animals or the forces of nature might have awakened the listener's curiosity; but in the present instance it was calculated to arouse something more than idle speculation. Not a man moved – they sat or crouched like figures of stone; and once again came that ominous jingle, exactly like the sound that might be caused by the movements of a man whose limbs were fettered.

"It's the 'screws'!" exclaimed one fellow in a horrified whisper, with that morbid superstition which is sometimes found in criminals. "This frost has done for them, and now they're following us with their ghosts!"

"Shut your mouth, you fool!" replied his companion fiercely. "If that's living men after us with the 'ruffles,' they won't put 'em on me! I'll make a few more ghosts before that happens!"

It was evident that the whole party had arrived at the same conclusion – that, by some means or other, they had already been tracked down by pursuers and their whereabouts discovered. How this could have happened it was impossible to imagine; but there was no mistaking that sound – more than one person was moving towards us on the common, incautiously allowing their approach to be heralded by the jingling of chains. For the moment I think even Rodwood forgot the presence of George Woodley and myself; but even if the thought had occurred to either of us to do such a thing, it would have been madness for us to shout or give any signal betraying our whereabouts, as we should certainly have paid the penalty of our lives for such an act.

The sharp tinkle sounded first on one side of the pit, and then on the other. Noiselessly Rodwood thrust his head forward into the centre of his followers.

"They're coming up on both sides," he whispered. "It's that man Lewis has done it," added the speaker, with an imprecation. "He's informed, to get his own liberty. This is a trap; but they won't take me out of it alive! Now, lads, no backing out. There are ten of us, and if we all strike together we'll prove a match for them yet!"

The words were followed by a click indicating the cocking of a pistol, and I noticed that the man nearest to me was working at a fragment of rock, endeavouring to dislodge it for use as a weapon.

At any other time I think I should have openly contradicted this charge of treachery against the absent man. Comparatively little as I knew of Lewis, I felt sure that whatever his faults might have been, he was never untrue to his own code of honour. I was, however, wise enough to hold my tongue, for a word uttered just then had like to have been the last I had ever spoken.

The clinking noise came nearer. There were long pauses between each repetition of the noise, as though the bearers were advancing cautiously, intending, when they got within easy distance of the pit, to carry the position with a final rush. Now on either side of us they appeared to be close at hand; the fateful moment had surely arrived, and my heart seemed to stop beating. The rascal at my side had loosened his jagged stone, and was clutching it with murderous intent; while the rest of the gang crouched, ready to spring to action at a signal from their leader.

Then suddenly the man named Nat broke out into a roar of hoarse laughter. The noise was, I think, more of a shock to the overstrained nerves of his comrades than a dozen pistol-shots. They sprang to their feet with a perfect howl of pent-up excitement. The next instant I fully expected their pursuers would leap down upon us, and the pit become the scene of a fierce conflict. Instinctively I shrank back under the overhanging bushes; but, to my surprise, nothing happened.

"Ho, ho!" burst out the voice of Nat above the confusion; "it's not the 'screws,' it's only some of those sheep! They chain them together out here on the coast, to prevent them straying."

"Keep quiet, you fool!" cried Rodwood. "D'you want to wake up every man in Rockymouth with your bull's roaring? Silence, you noisy hound, or I'll crack your skull with the butt of this pistol!"

However much inclined other members of the gang might have been to relieve their overstrung nerves with a laugh, Rodwood's threat was enough to force them into silence. One man sprung out of the hollow, and returned a moment later confirming Nat's statement regarding the sheep; and then, for the first time, I remembered having seen the animals on the cliffs, during my summer rambles with Miles, grazing in couples fastened together with collars and a chain, to hamper their movements and prevent their wandering.

It was certainly a ludicrous ending to what had seemed a tragic situation, but for my own part I was little inclined to laugh; and as the man beside me flung down his piece of rock, I could but feel thankful that the disturbance had proved a false alarm.

Once more the gang settled down to await the return of Lewis, who at length appeared with the intelligence that all was quiet in the village. With Rodwood and the old smuggler leading, and the rest of the party following in a straggling line, we made our way across the common and down a steep slope on the seaward side of the village. As George Woodley and I stumbled along over the uneven ground the handcuffs jerked, and chafed our fettered wrists; but the chance of our giving them the slip in the darkness and rousing up a pursuit was too serious a risk for the convicts to make it likely that they would liberate us at that important moment of their escape. On we went in perfect silence, skirting the village; and now almost immediately beneath us lay the harbour, sheltered from the beat of the open sea by the curved stone jetty, which always reminded me of a defending arm, crooked at the elbow, shielding the small craft which sought its protection. They had no need of it on this particular night, for the sea could not have been calmer if the month had been June instead of December.

Close behind me came the man whom I had seen helped down from the roof of the coach; and now, from a muttered word uttered now and again, I gathered that he was blind. Assisted, however, as before, by a comrade, he kept pace with the rest, and gave less trouble than might have been expected. We were half-way down the precipitous hillside when the leaders came to an abrupt halt – an example followed immediately by the rest of the party – and as we steadied ourselves, digging our heels into the ground, a voice cried, —

"Listen!"

It was the blind man who spoke. He had already uttered the word once before in a lower key, and I knew now that it was he who had given the first warning of the tinkling chains as we crouched in the pit.

As I have already said, the sea was very calm; there was no surf beating on the rocks, and in addition to this it was one of those still, frosty nights when the slightest sound can be heard with great distinctness. Sharp and clear, as though not more than a hundred yards distant, came the rhythmic clatter of a galloping horse. It was probably still the better part of a mile distant, descending the long, steep hill to the village; but the sides of the valley threw back and intensified the sound, so that an impression was given of the rider being close at hand. It was not likely that any one would gallop at headlong speed into Rockymouth at close on midnight on a winter's night unless his business was urgent; and it did not take the escaped prisoners long to find a reason for the messenger's hot haste.

"The murder's out!" cried Rodwood. "They've guessed the direction we've gone in from the wheel-tracks. Now we shall have every dog in the county set at our heels!"

"It's one of the riding officers has got the news, I'll warrant!" answered Lewis. – "Come on, lads! only a nimble pair of feet will save you."

"Forward!" cried the man who now acted as our guard, at the same time giving George and myself a shove which nearly sent us headlong down the slope, while the whole party went plunging recklessly from ridge to ridge after the fleet-footed smuggler. Once, as Woodley made a false step, I thought my right wrist was broken, but we were too well aware of the mood of our companions to show any signs of hesitation. Gaining the level ground, we rushed on past the few cottages which straggled out towards the sea; the men, careless now of the noise their heavy boots made on the rocky ground, tore along, thinking only of speed, and for the most part believing that the horseman was close at their heels. Another moment, and we were stumbling breathlessly into the boat which Lewis had already drawn alongside the jetty. Down she sank under the unaccustomed load, until it seemed to me the gunnels were almost level with the water; then the damp stone wall began to recede – Lewis had pushed off – and the next instant the oars were grinding in the rowlocks.

Slowly we gathered way, and cleared the end of the pier; a gentle heave betokened the open sea, and as we felt it a shouting was heard in the village.

"We've got a start, anyway," muttered Lewis, who was bending his back to a long, steady stroke.

"Hullo!" exclaimed one of the men, "there's a dog crouching under this seat. How did he get in the boat, I wonder?"

"Let him be," answered the smuggler. "He won't do no harm. He's mine, and met me in the village. He'd only sit and howl if we left him ashore."

Hardly had the words been uttered when the boat gave a sudden violent lurch, which brought the water rushing in over the side. Had not George and I flung ourselves promptly to starboard, and thus brought all our weight to bear in the opposite direction, the overloaded craft would certainly have capsized, and flung all its occupants into the sea. In his excitement the convict who had taken the second oar had "caught a crab," and thus narrowly escaped bringing the adventures of the whole party to an untimely termination.

"You lubber!" growled Lewis. – "Isn't there a man among you who can pull an oar?"

"I can row if you'll free my hand," I exclaimed, not relishing the prospect of a watery grave, which was inevitable if this boatload of landsmen were once overturned.

"Yes, Master Eden, you'll do; I've seen you in a boat before," was the reply. – "For any sake cast off the boy's irons, some of you, and let him come forward."

Feeling rather proud, I fancy, as a boy might in proving himself superior to a number of grown men, I changed seats, and bent with a will to the oar, keeping time with the swing of Lewis's figure, which was dimly visible in the gloom. Thus the boat crept out to sea, and turning moved in a westerly direction down the coast.

There was no sign or sound of pursuit; our departure from the harbour had evidently not been discovered. I was too much occupied with my oar to notice where we were going; but at last, when my arms were beginning to ache, and I feared I should have to ask to be relieved, Lewis ceased rowing, bidding me do the same; then turning, to my surprise I found we were close to shore, while above us towered the face of a mighty cliff.

Flinging his oar over the stern, with a skilful twisting of his wrist the old sailor sculled the boat carefully towards the towering mass of rock. In another moment I thought we should strike, and prepared involuntarily for the expected shock; then a half-circle of blackness resolved itself into the narrow, tunnel-like mouth of a cave.

Gently we drifted through the opening, a man in the bows guiding us with his hand, until the darkness became absolutely impenetrable, and the intense stillness was broken only by the lapping of water against the sides of the cavern.

This, then, was Lewis's promised hiding-place, and his assertion that there would be no danger of the men being found seemed no idle boast.