Cutlass and Cudgel Part 51

"It is some poor fellow fallen down;" and, placing her basket by the side, she began to descend cautiously, with Grip rushing to meet her, barking now joyously, and uttering whine after whine.

The descent was not difficult, and after the first few steps the feeling of timidity began to wear off, and Celia descended more quickly till, about fifty feet from the top, some distance under where the fringe of ferns hung, and where it had seemed quite dark from above, but was really a pleasant greenish twilight, she found beneath her feet a few loose flat stones, part of a quant.i.ty lying before her in the archway that seemed to lead straight on into the quarry.

But here, right at her feet, the dog began to scratch, tossing one thin piece of stone over the others upon which it lay.

Celia looked before her wonderingly, for she had expected to see a fallen man at once, probably some one of the men whom she knew by sight; but, in spite of the dog's scratching, she could not imagine anything was there, and she was bending forward, gazing into the half choked-up level pa.s.sage before her, when there came from under her feet the same smothered,--

"Ahoy!"

She started away, clinging to the side for support, and ready in her fear to rush back to the surface.

But the dog's action brought her to herself, as he began again to bark furiously, and tore at the stones.

"Hush! Quiet, Grip!" she said in an awe-stricken whisper, as she went down on her knees and listened, her heart beating wildly, and a horrible idea, all confused, of some one having been buried alive, making her face turn ashy pale.

"Ahoy! Any one there?" came in the same faint tones.

"Yes--yes," panted the girl. "What is it?"

"Help!"

And then, more loudly,--

"Let me out, pray."

"Oh," moaned the girl, "what does it mean?"

"Ahoy there!" came more plainly now. "Whoever you are, get a boat, and go off to the cutter _White Hawk_. Can you hear?"

"Yes, yes," said the girl huskily, as a horrible suspicion ran through her mind.

"Tell Lieutenant Brough that Mr Raystoke is a prisoner, kept by the smugglers, and then show his men the way here."

There was a pause, for Celia could make no reply; she knew who Mr Raystoke was, and it seemed horrible to her that the frank, good-looking young midshipman should be kept a prisoner in such a tomb-like place as that.

"Don't, don't say you will not go!" came up in the smothered tones.

"You shall have a reward."

"As if I wanted a reward!" panted Celia. "What shall I do? What shall I do?"

"Help--pray help!" came from below; and Grip joined in.

"Yes, I will help you," cried Celia, placing her face close down to the stones.

"What!" came up. "I know you--the young--yes, Miss Graeme."

"Yes," she cried hastily.

"Pray help me."

"I want to," she said; "but--but you will go and--and tell--about what you have seen."

There was a pause, and then came faintly the words,--

"I--don't--want to; but--I must."

"But I cannot--I cannot help you if you are going to fetch the sailors here, perhaps to seize--Oh, what shall I do?"

There was a pause before the prisoner spoke again.

"Look here," he said; "I don't want to tell about your father being mixed up with the smugglers."

"You must not--you dare not!" cried Celia.

There was another pause, and then the prisoner's voice came again reproachfully.

"You ought to know it's my duty, and that I was sent ash.o.r.e to find this out.--I say."

"Yes."

"Did you know I was shut up like this by those beasts?"

"Oh, no, no, no!"

"Your father did. He had me sent here, so that he should not get into trouble."

"Indeed no! He would not do so wicked a thing."

"But he is a smuggler."

"It is not true!" cried Celia pa.s.sionately; "and if you dare to say such things of my dear, good, suffering father, I'll go away and never help you."

"I can't help saying it," said Archy st.u.r.dily. "I'd give anything to get out of this dreadful dark place; but I must speak."

"Not of him."

"I don't want to speak of him," said Archy, "but what can I do? I must tell about all those smuggled things there in the cellar that night when you found me in that room--out of uniform."

"Ah!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Celia.

"I know it's hard on you, but I've been here a prisoner ever since, and it's enough to break one's heart."

The poor fellow's voice changed a little as he spoke, and he would have given way if he had seen Celia's head bowed down, and that she was crying bitterly.

"You will send for help?"

"I cannot," sobbed the girl, "unless you will promise not to tell."