Cutlass and Cudgel Part 47

"That's a different thing," said Archy proudly. "I am a king's officer, and you are only a smuggler's boy."

"I can't help that," said Ram warmly. "You wouldn't let me go because you couldn't, and I won't let you go because I can't."

"Then get out of this place, and let me be."

"Shan't. It's horrid dull and dark here, and lonesome. I shouldn't like it, and that's why I get mother to give me all sorts o' good things to bring for you, and save 'em up. Father would make a row if he knew.

I do like you."

"Get out!"

"Ah, you may say that, but I'd do anything for you now."

"Then let me go."

"'Cept that."

"Knock me on the head, then, and put me out of my misery."

"And 'cept that too. I say, don't be snarky with me. You must stop here as long as father likes, but why shouldn't you and me be friends?

I've brought you a Jew's harp to learn to play when you're alone."

Archy uttered an e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n full of contempt, and s.n.a.t.c.hed the proffered toy and hurled it as far as he could.

"It was a sixpenny one, and I walked all the way to Dunmouth and back to get it for you--twenty miles. It aren't much of a thing for an orficer and a gentleman, though, I know. But, I say, look here, would you like to learn to play the fiddle?"

"Will you take your chattering tongue somewhere else?"

"'Cause," continued Ram, without heeding the midshipman's petulant words, "I could borrow big Tom Dunley's old fiddle. He'd lend it to me, and I'd smuggle it here."

"Smuggle, of course," sneered Archy.

"In its green baize bag. I could teach you how to play one toon."

Archy remained silent, as he sat on a stone, listening contemptuously to the lad's words.

"I thought I could often come here, and sit and talk to you, and bring a light, and I brought these."

He opened the door of the horn lanthorn, and produced from his pocket a very dirty old pack of cards, at which Archy stared with profound disgust.

"You and me could play a game sometimes, and then you wouldn't feel half so dull. I say, have a puff now!"

There was no reply.

"Shall I bring you some apples?"

Archy threw himself down, and lay on his side, with his head resting upon his hand, gazing into the darkness.

"We've got lots o' fox-whelps as we make cider of, and some red-cheeks which are ever so much better. I'll bring you some."

"Don't," replied Archy coldly. "Bring me my liberty. I don't want anything else."

"Won't you have the Jew's harp, if I go and find it?"

"No."

"Nor yet the fiddle, if I borrow it?"

"No."

"I say, don't be so snarky with me. I can't help it. I was obliged to do what I did, same as you'd have been if it had been t'other way on.

Look here; let you and me be friends, and I could come often and sit with you. I'll stay now if you like. Let's have a game at cards."

Archy made no reply, and Ram sighed.

"I'm very sorry," he said sadly; "and I'd leave you the lanthorn if you like to ask me."

"I'm not going to ask favours of such a set of thieves and scoundrels,"

cried the midshipman pa.s.sionately; "and once more I warn you that, if you come pestering me with your proposals, I shall knock you down with a stone, and then escape."

"Not you," replied Ram, with a quiet laugh.

"Not escape?"

"I meant couldn't knock me down with a stone."

"And pray why?"

"'Cause I tell you agen you couldn't be such a coward. I'm going now."

No notice was taken of the remark.

"Like another blanket?"

No answer.

"I'm going to leave the basket and the puffs and cheese. Anything else I can get you?"

Archy was moved by the lad's friendly advances, but he felt as if he would rather die than show it, and he turned impatiently away from the light shed by the lanthorn.

"I'll bring you some apples next time I come, and p'r'aps then you'll have a game at cards."

There was no reply, so Ram slowly shut the door of the lanthorn, turning the bright light to a soft yellowish glow, and rising to his knees.

"Do let me stop and have a game."

"Let me stop and talk to you, then."

There was no reply to either proposal, and just then there came a hoa.r.s.e--