Kitabı oku: «The Wolf Patrol: A Tale of Baden-Powell's Boy Scouts», sayfa 9

CHAPTER XXV
A NARROW SHAVE

'It's a kid – a cheeky kid,' he cried in low, savage tones. 'I'll soon settle him.'

'P'raps he'll keep quiet. Ask him if he'll swear to say nothin'?' called out the man in the boat, his tones low and eager.

'Shut up!' snarled the other; 'as if any kid could keep quiet! I ain't a-goin' to do time for the likes of him. Not me! I'll chuck him into the hold.' And he clinched his words with another stream of fierce imprecations.

He scrambled towards the spot where Chippy stood as fast as his feet could carry him. The scout knew that he was in great danger; his acquaintance with longshore folk was extensive, and he knew that among them were to be found a few ruffians and thieves as desperate as any alive – men who would not value a boy's life any more than a fly's, if it became necessary to their safety to take it. If he were seized, he would be knocked on the head, and his body flung into the hold of the Three Spires, into the deep muddy bilge which lay there, as safe a hiding-place for a crime as could be found.

There was but one way of escape, and he turned to it at once. His boat had gone, but the river was still his refuge and way of release. He seized the broken taffrail, swung himself over it, let himself go, slid swiftly down the side, holding himself straight and stiff as a bar, and struck the water with his bare feet with less than a splash, with no more than a sharp clunk, and at the next instant was striking out with all his might for the side of the creek.

The man creeping along the deck uttered a savage oath full of baffled fury as he saw Chippy vanish over the side, and heard him enter the water; then scrambled swiftly back to the boat, and sprang in.

'He's jumped over,' he growled. 'Pull round and after him. We'll get him yet.'

'P'raps he's drownded,' said the other.

'Not him,' cried the fiercer thief; 'he didn't drop into the water like one as gets drownded. He's makin' off – that's what he's a-doin'. Pull, I tell ye – pull!'

They bent to the oars, and the skiff was driven at speed round the stranded hull of the barquentine. For his part, Chippy was swimming as he had never swum before. He was lashing the water with all his might, swimming his favourite side-stroke, his fastest way of moving, now glancing at the dark mass which marked the side of the creek, now glancing behind to see if the boat pursued. In one thing he was very unlucky. He had struck straight away from the side over which he had slipped, the side upon which the boat was not lying, and was swimming into the moonlight which now bathed the farther side of the creek. He shot into the lighted space as the boat slid from under the shadow of the broad stern, and was seen at once. Across the quiet water Chippy heard the voice of his more dangerous foe: 'There he is! there he is!' cried the ruffian. 'Pull, I tell ye – pull! we'll have him easy before he touches bank.'

Chippy looked ahead, and felt that there was horrible truth in this. Stripped to the buff, he would have escaped without a doubt, for he could go through the water like a fish. But he was now fully clothed, and the water-sodden garments clung round him like a coating of lead, impeding his strokes, and cutting down his pace in cruel fashion.

Still, he fought gamely, putting out every effort to drive himself through the slow, dead water, and keeping his mind fixed on the shore ahead, and not on the boat darting after him under the propulsion of two powerful oarsmen.

He wanted to look back, but he drove the feeling off. He knew it would not help his speed to mark how near his foes were, and he could, in any case, do nothing but swim – swim for his life. There is no more helpless creature in the world than the swimmer overtaken in the water. He can neither fight nor fly. His powers are needed to support himself, and, once disabled, the deadly water takes him into its murderous embrace.

But, of a sudden, Chippy was forced to mark the terrible danger which hung over him.

'Pull straight ahead,' said a voice, which seemed almost in his ear. He turned his face, and his heart leapt in his side. The muffled rowlocks and sweeps had brought the boat almost full upon him in silence, and the ruffian who sought his life was springing into the bows armed with the boat-hook. The boy scout saw all this clearly in the moonlight – saw the second man pulling with a terrified face turned over his shoulder, saw the heavy, iron-shod pole swinging aloft to fall upon his head. He drew a long breath, and filled his lungs deeply. As he did so, the shadow of the bow fell upon him, and at that instant he dived like a water-hen. There was a tremendous splash just at his ear, and a heavy blow was dealt on his shoulder, driving him deeper still. He turned over on his back, and opened his eyes, for he had closed them at the instant of diving. He saw directly above him a dark mass, and knew that he was under the boat. It passed slowly on, and he rose, and his face came to the surface and was brushed by a rope. He seized the rope and hung on, and drew, cautiously, a deep breath. He looked round, and found that he had caught the painter as it dragged astern, and that the way of the boat was checked. Then Chippy heard a voice. 'Pull round a bit,' it asid; 'we shall soon see if he rises again or no.'

'Not he,' said another voice, which quavered. 'Never! never! He'll ne'er rise again after that frightful crack you hit him. I shall hear it all my days.'

The hardier ruffian chuckled. 'I did fetch him a good un,' he said – 'a reg'lar oner. I felt the hook light on him. But pull, I tell ye – pull! There's no time for moanin' an' groanin' now.'

Chippy felt that way was being given to the boat, and he struck out softly with one arm and both feet in order that he should not drag on the boat and betray his presence. By the aid of the painter, he could keep his head low behind the broad stern, and quite out of sight of the two rogues in the boat.

His shoulder ached where the boat-hook had fallen upon it, but the blow had not been disabling, for the force had been partly broken by the water. In one way, it was very lucky for the scout that he had received this sharp crack, for the thief who sought his life was now fully under the impression that the boy had been beaten under. This caused the two rogues to be less thorough in their search for a head showing above the water. The boat was gently paddled round the spot where Chippy had disappeared, but the men did not move to and fro in the boat, glancing on every side. Had they done so, the head bobbing along under the stern would have been discovered, and there would have been a short shrift for the daring scout.

'He'll never come up – never,' said the rower, his voice still unsteady; 'you stunned him, an' I've heard as anyone stunned will never rise again.'

'That's true,' said the ruffian, who still poised the boathook ready to deal a second blow if needful – 'that's true, an' like enough he's gone down for good. Anyhow, he's been under long enough for us to be sure he's settled. Here, what are ye up to?'

This question was addressed to his companion, who now dipped his oars deeply, and began to pull a strong stroke.

'I'm off ashore,' said the latter; and Chippy could hear the fellow's teeth chattering as he spoke. 'I've had enough o' this. I'm goin' to get on the bank.'

'Pull away, then, chicken-heart,' jeered his more brutal comrade. 'After all, the stuff's safely stowed away. There's no need to go back to the old barky.'

The boat was steadily driven inshore, and at the stern Chippy swam his hardest to take his weight off the painter and keep his head under cover. 'I got to look out,' said the cool scout to himself, 'or I'll get that boathook on my nut yet.'

But once more fortune favoured the brave, and the boat slid into the deep shadow of the old landing-stage, and Chippy was still undiscovered. No sooner did they enter the friendly dusk than Chippy released the painter, and let himself float without movement. The boat pulled on a dozen yards to the stairs, and the scout swam gently to the shelter of a great pile. Chippy now heard the rower fling down the oars and spring out of the boat, and rush up to the stage above.

The second man poured a stream of jeers after his less resolute comrade, then sat down, took the oars, turned the boat, and pulled away down the creek, evidently bent on restoring the craft to its proper anchorage.

The boat shot away and disappeared round the end of the stage, and Chippy struck out for the stairs and crawled to land. He was by this time pretty exhausted, and he sat for a few minutes on the lowest step, to rest and draw a few easy breaths, while the water poured from him in streams. As soon as he had recovered a little, he sprang up the steps, and hurried homewards on his bare feet; for his boots were at the bottom of the river, and he considered himself a very lucky scout to think that he was not there beside them.

CHAPTER XXVI
CHIPPY MAKES HIS REPORT

The next morning Chippy turned up at Elliott Brothers' prompt to time. He had had a big ducking, a rattle on his shoulder, and not much sleep; but he was as hard as nails, and looked none the worse for his adventure. He had also purchased a pair of boots from a pawn-shop in Skinner's Hole. They were not up to much, for one and sevenpence was the total sum the scout could raise; but they covered his feet in some sort of shape, and he could do no more. Mr. Malins set him to work to shake out and tie up a great heap of sacks in the basement, and when Chippy had finished this task he went and took a peep at the clock in the church-tower at the end of the street.

'Mr. Elliott's in by now,' muttered the scout to himself, and he marched straight up to the office of the junior partner, and tapped at the door.

'Come in,' called a voice; and in Chippy went, and closed the door behind him.

Mr. Elliott looked up from the morning letters, with which he was busy, and raised his eyebrows.

'Well, Slynn,' he said, 'and what may you want?'

Chippy stood up very straight, and saluted.

'Come to report, sir, on the robbery at the warehouse.'

'What!' shouted Mr. Jim Elliott, and his eyebrow went up higher than ever.

'Went on scout, sir, last night, about ten,' began Chippy, and then plunged into the recital of his adventures.

He had no more than fairly started when the door whirled open once more, this time without any formality of tapping, and in burst the senior partner in a state of great excitement.

'Jim, Jim,' he called out, quite failing to notice that his brother was not alone, 'there's more stuff gone. The warehouse was broken into again last night, for all the police were on the watch. Altogether a good seventy pounds' worth of goods have been stolen.'

'Ah, yes, Richard,' returned his brother. 'I'm just receiving a report on the matter from one of my scouts.'

'About the burglary,' cried the senior partner, knitting his brows in wonder and astonishment, and observing for the first time the bolt-upright figure of the Raven, who promptly saluted. 'Do you mean to say this boy knows something about it?'

'I fancy he does,' returned Mr. James Elliott. 'Take a chair, and we'll hear what he's got to say. He'd only just begun his report as you came in.'

The senior partner sat down, and stared at Chippy with an expression of doubt and perplexity. 'But suppose we're just wasting time here, Jim,' he expostulated.

'Better hear what he's got to say,' said the instructor quietly; 'he's a good scout, and a good scout doesn't waste people's time. Now. No. 1, Raven Patrol, go on with your report, and make it short and clear.'

Chippy went ahead at once, and for five minutes the two gentlemen listened in perfect silence to his husky voice as he ran swiftly over the points of his adventure. He stopped speaking, saluted, and stood at attention once more.

'Never heard a more extraordinary narration in my life,' burst out the senior partner. 'It sounds incredible; the boy's been dreaming.'

'No, I think not,' replied his brother; 'or if he has, we can soon put his statement to the proof.'

'Just what was in my mind,' said Mr. Elliott; 'we'll take him down to the warehouse at once, Jim, and look into this.'

A four-wheeler was called from the hackney stand near the church, and within a few minutes the two partners and the errand-boy were being driven to the waterside. At the gate of the warehouse yard they met Mr. White, the manager.

'The thing's more mysterious than ever, Mr. Elliott,' cried the manager, 'Here's Inspector Bird of the police; he's been all over the place, and he can't find any sign that a single fastening has been tampered with; and a constable was on patrol all night.'

'Ah,' said the senior partner, 'have you looked at the trap which gives on the old water-gate, White?'

'Old water-gate, sir!' cried White. 'What's that? I never heard of such a thing.'

'No, possibly not; it's been out of service for so many years,' replied Mr. Elliott; 'but it exists nevertheless, and we'll have a look at it.'

At this moment they were joined by Inspector Bird, and after a few words between the police-officer and Mr. Elliott, the party of four men and the scout went in search of the trap, the senior partner leading the way with a lantern, for which he had asked, in his hand.

At the farther end of the great storeroom a flight of winding stone steps led down into a huge cellar. Mr. Elliott went first, and threw the light of his lantern back to guide the others; for there was no hand-rail, and an ugly fall awaited anyone who might miss his footing.

'Why, sir,' said White, 'we never use this place; it's too damp. I've only been down here once before in the five years I've been with you, and there's neither door nor window to it.'

'Yes, White, there's a door,' replied Mr. Elliott; 'but it's in the floor, and that's what we're going to look at.'

Guided by the shine of the lantern, the party marched across the floor of the huge damp vault, and the senior partner paused beside a broad trap-door, and threw the light upon it. He gave a long, low whistle, and his brother said, 'Ah, first point to Slynn, Richard.'

'It is, it is,' said the latter, after a pause – 'it certainly is.'

The trap-door was in two halves, meeting on a broad central bar slotted into the stones at either end. Each half was secured by a couple of big iron bolts running into sockets fixed on the bar. The right half was firmly fastened; the left half was unfastened at this instant; the great bolts were drawn back, and the sockets were empty.

The senior partner put his foot on the left flap. 'Here you are, inspector,' he said. 'The thieves came in here.' And in a few words he explained about the old water-gate.

'Then they had an accomplice inside, sir,' cried the inspector.

'Yes, that's very certain,' replied Mr. Elliott. 'He drew the bolts before he left the warehouse for the night, but he hasn't been yet to replace them.'

'My word, sir!' burst out White, 'there's one man never turned up to work this morning – Luke Raper. Can he have had anything to do with it?'

'Is everyone else here?' asked the inspector.

'Everyone,' returned White.

'Then I'll send one of my men after Raper at once,' said the police-officer.

'Very good,' remarked Mr. Elliott; 'and while Raper is being looked up, we'll go on the next step of our investigations.'

He had already ordered a boat to be got ready at a stage near at hand, and thither went the two partners, Chippy, and Inspector Bird. The manager was left at the warehouse to see that everyone employed about it stayed there until the police had finished their inquiries. The boat was rowed by a couple of watermen, and as soon as the party of four had taken their seats it was pulled down the river and up the creek to the spot where the derelict old barquentine lay.

The first man on the Three Spires was Mr. James Elliott. He scrambled down the companion, and raised a loud cry of surprise and pleasure. 'Here they are!' he called out. 'Here are the missing bales! Slynn was right in every particular.'

He was soon joined by the others, and again the senior partner indulged in his long, low whistle when he saw the missing goods neatly piled in a dry corner.

'As clever a hiding-place as ever I heard of!' cried Inspector Bird. 'No one would ever think of overhauling this old hulk. But there's your stuff, sir, all right.'

The senior partner dropped his hand on Chippy's shoulder. 'Slynn,' he said, 'you are a brave, clever lad. I'll admit now that I could scarcely believe your story, but I am sure that you have spoken the truth in every particular. My brother and I are not only grateful to you for this recovery of our property, but you have done a service to every honest man about the warehouse. It ought not to be difficult now to trace the thief and remove all suspicion from straightforward men.'

'A very good piece of work indeed, No. 1,' chimed in the instructor; then he turned to his brother. 'Well, Richard,' he said in quiet triumph, 'this is one up to the boy scouts, I think.'

'It is, Jim,' returned the senior partner; 'there's no mistake about that. A movement which trains youngsters to be cool and level-headed in this fashion ought to be supported.'

At this moment Inspector Bird, who had been searching the vessel generally, came back to the group below the companion. He had been given a general idea of Chippy's work in the discovery of the stolen goods, and now he wished to question the scout.

'First thing,' he said, 'did you know either of the men?'

'No,' said Chippy; 'I never saw their faces, and the only way I could spot one of 'em 'ud be becos he'd lost a finger.'

'Lost a finger!' cried Mr. Jim Elliott. 'Why, Luke Raper's a finger short!'

'Ah, ha!' said Inspector Bird; 'this begins to look like narrowing it down, gentlemen. It seems to me the sooner we have a talk to Mr. Luke Raper, the better.'

'We'll go back to the warehouse,' said the senior partner, 'and see whether your man has Drought Raper up to the mark.'

So back to the warehouse they went, leaving one of the watermen to guard the goods on the Three Spires until they could be removed. But there was no Luke Raper at the warehouse, nor was he ever seen there again. The police found that he had vanished from his lodgings, leaving no clue whither he had gone, and he was never traced. Chippy always felt certain that he was the timorous partner of the pair of thieves, and had fled because he feared implication in the murder which he believed had been committed.

Almost at the same time a wild, drunken longshoreman, known as Spitfire Bill – a name which his savage temper had earned for him – disappeared from the wharves of Bardon River, and very possibly he was Raper's accomplice. No one could say, for neither man was ever brought to book; but Raper's guilt was certain, for every other man about the place could account for himself clearly, and none other than Raper had a deformed hand.

Mr. Elliott wished to give Chippy a handsome reward, but the Raven steadily refused to take it. 'Can't be done,' was his reply. 'Yer see, theer's Law 2 an' the back end o' Law 5; they'm dead agin it.'

However, Mr. Elliott did something which filled Chippy and his followers with immense delight. He rigged out the Raven Patrol, from their leader down to No. 8, in full khaki scout's rig, so that when they went out in friendly competition or on a scouting-run with their friends the Wolves it was hard to say which patrol was the more smartly turned out.

CHAPTER XXVII
DICK'S GREAT PLAN

No one was more delighted to hear of Chippy's clever work in connection with the robbery than his fellow patrol-leader, Dick Elliott. Part of Dick's delight, if the truth must be told, was on his own account. 'Now,' he said to himself, 'if I can only get permission to go myself, I ought to be sure of Chippy as my companion for the week.'

What did this mean? It meant that Dick was turning over in his mind a splendid plan which he had formed for Whitsun week, if only he could gain permission to carry it out.

He was burning to go a real scouting journey – a journey upon which he would be cast upon his own resources, sleeping under the sky, or in a hay-loft or barn, and marching through the country, patrol staff in hand, taking what might come. He thought it would be splendid if he could set out on such a tramp with Chippy for a companion; and surely, after Chippy's splendid bit of work for the firm, it would be easy to beg for a week's holiday for him.

The Grammar School was always closed in Whit-week for local reasons. The fine old building stood at one side of the wide market-place, and this place was the scene of a great annual fair – a fair as old as the town itself, and possibly older. In former days, when manners were ruder and rougher, the school had not been closed during Whitsun Fair, and traditions still existed among the schoolboys of wild pranks played by their predecessors among the booths and stalls. In this way enmity arose between the boys and the fair-folk – an ill-feeling which had more than once given rise to pitched battles and serious rioting, as the town records went to prove. So towards the close of the eighteenth century the practice arose of closing the school during the fair, and forbidding the boys to frequent the market-place. During the hundred years and more that had passed since then the fair had fallen off very much, but the Whit-week holiday was still given at the school.

Dick's first move in the matter was to go to his uncle and lay the whole affair before him, including his hopes of having Chippy as a companion.

'I don't see that you could come to much harm in a few days,' said his uncle, when Dick had finished. 'I suppose you want me to back you up with your father and mother.'

'That's just it, uncle,' cried Dick; 'if you'll only do that, I shall be awfully glad.'

'Well, go ahead,' said his uncle; 'I'll do what I can for you.'

Even with his uncle's help Dick had some difficulty in gaining his parents' consent. At last his father was struck with a brilliant idea, which he thought would settle the affair very neatly. 'We'll let him go, as he's so keen on it,' said Mr. Elliott to his wife; 'but we'll soon have him back. I've thought of a plan.' And he explained it.

That evening Dick was in the schoolroom busy with his lessons for the next day, when he was summoned to the study, where his father was sitting by the fire with the evening paper.

'Well, Dick,' said Mr. Elliott, 'about that scouting idea of yours, now.'

'Oh, father,' burst out Dick, 'I can go, can't I? And Chippy as well? I'm sure you ought to be willing to spare him for a week.'

'Perhaps, perhaps,' laughed Mr. Elliott; 'but wait a little. I'm going to put a plan before you, to take it or leave it. Here it is: You shall start Whit-Monday morning, and I'll give you a couple of half-sovereigns. One will be for the expenses of yourself and your companion – '

'Hooray! Chippy's coming!' yelled Dick.

'Your companion on the road,' went on Mr. Elliott; 'and you must give me your word as a scout that you will not go outside that ten shillings for any expense whatsoever. The other half-sovereign is for your rail-fare home as soon as you are on your beam-ends – and that will be pretty soon, I shouldn't wonder. It will cover you up to sixty miles third-class, and you're not likely to get outside that radius on your feet.'

'And we can stay out till the ten shillings is gone, father?' cried Dick.

'Up till Saturday night,' returned Mr. Elliott. 'You must be home again before Sunday.' He chuckled as he said this, for he did not suppose for an instant that the scouts' trip would last more than a day or two. 'They'll soon run through a trifling sum like ten shillings,' he had said to his wife, 'and then, in honour bound, they must return.'

Dick gave his word joyfully, and returned to the schoolroom to gloat over the happy time ahead, when a pair of brother scouts would march out upon the world in search of adventure. The next day he sought out Chippy, and imparted the glorious news. The Raven's eyes glittered again at the thought of such a splendid time, and he entered into the romance of the thing with a zest even deeper than Dick's own; for Chippy's life had known little change and little real pleasure until the boy scouts' movement had claimed him for its own.

'We'll camp same as in the books,' cried Chippy, his voice huskier than ever in his excitement; 'an' we'll practise them dodges o' cookin' the grub, so as we'll eat on the cheap. Ten bob! Why, ten bob! We'll goo fur on ten bob!'

'And it will be all right about your wages for the week, Chippy,' said Dick; 'I've settled about that with Uncle Jim. He laughed, and said he rather fancied the firm wouldn't grumble at that.'

Chippy smiled and nodded, and then the boys plunged into eager discussion of things they must do and master in order to be ready for this noble trip.