Cutlass and Cudgel Part 25

A happy inspiration had come, and placing one hand upon his breast, he thrust in the other, gave a tug, and drew out his little curved dirk, glanced at the edge, ran to the window and began to cut at one of the bars.

Labour in vain. He divided the paint, and produced a few squeaks and grating sounds, as he realised that the attempt was madness.

Turning sharply, he looked about the room; then, after glancing ruefully at the bright little weapon, halfway up the blade of a rich deep blue, in which was figured a pattern in gold, he yielded to necessity, and began to chop at the top bar of the grate, so as to nick the edges of his weapon and make it saw-like.

The result was not very satisfactory, but sufficiently so to make him essay the bar of the window once more, producing a grating, ear-a.s.sailing sound, as he found that now he did make a little impression,--so little though, that the probability was, if he kept on working well for twenty-four hours, he would not get through.

But at the end of five minutes he stopped, and thrust back the dirk into its sheath.

He fancied he had heard steps outside the room door, and he ran to it and listened, in the faint hope that the boy might have come to open it and set him free.

It was a very faint hope, and one he felt not likely to be realised, and he returned once more to the window, with the intention of resuming his task, when he heard the bushes pressed aside by some one coming, and directly after the bars were seized as before. Ram sprang up, found a resting-place for his toes, and looked in, grinning at him.

"Hullo!" he cried, in a whisper, as if he did not wish to be heard; "here you are still."

"Yes. Come round and open the door."

"What'll yer give me?"

"Anything I can," cried Archy eagerly.

"Well, you give me that little sword o' your'n."

"No; I can't part with that."

"Ha! Ha! Ha!" laughed the boy jeeringly.

"But I'll--yes, I'll give you a guinea, if you will let me out."

"Guinea?" said the boy. "Think I'd do it for a guinea?"

"Well, then, two. Be quick, there's a good fellow. I want to get away at once."

"Not you," said the boy jeeringly. "It would be a pity. I say, do you know what you look like?"

"A fisher-boy."

"Not you. Only a sham. Why, your clothes don't fit you, and your cap's put on all skew-rew. Don't look a bit like a fisher-lad, and never will."

"Never mind about that; let me out of this place."

"What for?" cried Ram.

"Because I want my liberty."

"Not you. Looks comf'table enough as you are. I say, do you know what you are like now?"

"I told you, a fisher-boy!" cried Archy impatiently, but trying not to offend his visitor, who possessed the power of conferring freedom, by speaking sharply.

"Not you. Look like a wild beast in a cage. Like a monkey."

"You insolent--"

Archy checked himself, and the boy laughed.

"It was your turn yesterday, it's mine to-day. What a game! You laughed and fleered at me when I was on the cutter's deck. I can laugh and fleer at you now. I say, you do look a rum 'un. Just like a big monkey in a show."

"Look here, sir!" said Archy, losing his temper. "Gentlemen don't fight with low, common fellows like you, but if you do not come round and let me out, next time we meet I'll have a bit of rope's-end ready for you."

Ram showed his white teeth, as he burst out with a long, low fit of laughter.

"You rope's-end me!" he said. "Why, I could tie you up in a knot, and heave you off the cliff any day. What a game! Bit of a middy, fed on salt tack and weevilly biscuit, talk of giving me rope's-end! Dressed up with a dirty face and a bit o' canvas! Go back aboard, and put on your uniform. Ha! Ha! Ha!"

"Once more; will you come and let me out?"

"No. I'm going to keep you here till the gentlefolks get up, and then I'll bring 'em round to see the monkey in his cage, just like they do in the shows, when you pay a penny. See you for nothing, middy. I say, where's your sword? Why don't you draw it, and come out and fight?

I'll fight you with a stick."

"You insolent young scoundrel!" cried Archy, darting his hand through between the bars, overcome now by his rage, and catching Ram by the collar.

To his astonishment the boy did not flinch, but thrust his own arms through, placing them about the middy's waist, clenching his hands behind, and uttering a sharp whistle.

It was a trap, and the midshipman understood it now. The boy had been baiting him to rouse him to attack, and he was doubly a prisoner now, held fast against the bars, so that he could not even wrench round his head as he heard the door behind him opened, while as he opened his mouth to cry for help, a great rough hand was placed over his eyes, pressing his head back, a handkerchief was jammed between his teeth, and as he heard a deep growling voice say, "Hold him tight!" a rope was drawn about his chest, pinioning his arms to his sides, and another secured his ankles.

"Now a handkerchief," said the gruff voice. "Fold it wide. Be ready!"

The midshipman gave his head a jerk, but the effort was vain, for the hand over his eyes gave place to a broad handkerchief, which was tightly tied behind, and then a fierce voice whispered in his ear,--

"Keep still, or you'll get your weasand slit. D'ye hear?"

But in spite of the threat the lad, frenzied now by rage and excitement, struggled so hard that a fresh rope was wound round him, and he was lifted up by two men, and carried away.

By this time there was a strange singing in his ears, a feeling as if the blood was flooding his eyes, a peculiar, hot, suffocating feeling in his breast, and then he seemed to go off into a painful, feverish sleep, for he knew no more.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

Angry, but trembling with dread, Celia had hurried up to her own room, to try and think what was best to be done. She had secured the door of the room below to gain time, feeling as she did that, as the young midshipman knew of the storing of the smuggled goods, he would, the moment he was free, go back to the cutter, bring help, there would perhaps be a desperate fight, with men killed, and her father would be dragged away to prison.

Her first thought was to go to her father, but she shrank from doing this as her mother would probably be asleep, and in her delicate state the alarm might seriously affect her.

Having grown learned in the ways of the smugglers, from their having on several occasions made use of the great vault without asking permission--at times when Sir Risdon was away from home--Celia had sat up to watch that night to see if the men would fetch away the kegs and bales; hence her presence during the scene, and when she had awakened to the fact that the midshipman had played spy and was ready to denounce her father, she felt that all was over.

Three times over, after listening at the head of the stairs for sounds from below where her prisoner was confined, Celia had crept on tiptoe to her father's door, only to shrink away again not daring to speak.

For what would he say to her? She thought. She had no right to be downstairs watching the acts of the smugglers, and she dreaded to make a confession of her knowledge of these nocturnal proceedings.

At last, bewildered, anxious, and worn-out, she knelt down by her bed, to consider with her head in her hands, ready for kindly nature to bring her comfort, for when she started up again the sun was streaming brightly in at her window.