Cutlass and Cudgel Part 7

"Yes, father," said the boy, after getting his mouth into talking trim.

"Lanthorns! Off with you."

"Lanthorns won't be no good in the fog."

"Don't you be so mighty clever," growled Shackle. "How do you know that the fog reaches up far?"

"Did you signal s'afternoon, father?"

"Lanthorns! And look sharp, sir."

The boy went into the back kitchen, took down from a shelf three horn-lanthorns, which had the peculiarity of being painted black save in one narrow part. Into these he glanced to see that they were all fitted with thick candles before pa.s.sing a piece of rope through the rings at the top.

This done he took down a much smaller lanthorn, painted black all round, lit the candle within, and, taking this one in his hand, he hung the others over his shoulder, and prepared to start.

"Mind and don't you slip over the cliff, Ram," said his mother.

"Tchah! Don't scare the boy with that nonsense," said the farmer angrily; "why should he want to slip over the cliff? Put 'em well back, boy. Stop 'bout half an hour, and then come down."

Ram nodded and went off whistling down along the hollow for some hundred yards toward the sea, and then, turning short off to the right, he began to climb a zigzag path which led higher and higher and more and more away to his left till it skirted the cliff, and he was climbing slowly up through the fog.

The lad's task was robbed of the appearance of peril by the darkness; but the danger never occurred to Ram, who had been up these cliff-paths too often for his pleasure to heed the breakneck nature of the rough sheep-track up and up the face of the cliff, leading to where it became a steep slope, which ran in and on some four hundred feet, forming one of the highest points in the neighbourhood.

"It's plaguey dark," said Ram to himself. "Wonder what they're going to bring to-night?"

He whistled softly as he climbed slowly on.

"Fog's thicker than it was last night. They won't see no lanthorns, I know."

"Dunno, though," he muttered a little higher up. "Not quite so thick up here. How old Grip growled! But he had to do it. Aren't afraid of a dog like him. Look at that!"

He had climbed up the zigzag track another fifty feet, and stopped short to gaze away at the bright stars of the clear night with the great layer of fog all below him now.

"Father was right, but I dunno whether they'll be able to see from the lugger. Don't matter. They know the way, and they'd see the signal s'afternoon."

He whistled softly as he went on higher, laughing all at once at an idea which struck him.

"Suppose they were to row right on to the cutter! Wouldn't it 'stonish them all? I know what I should do. Shove off directly into the fog.

They wouldn't be able to see, and I wouldn't use the sweeps till I was out of hearing, and then--oh, here we are up atop!"

For the sheep-track had come to an end upon what was really the dangerous part of the journey. The zigzag and the cliff-path had been bad, but a fall there would not have been hopeless, for the unfortunate who lost his footing would go down to the next path, or the next, a dozen places perhaps offering the means of checking the downward course, but up where the boy now stood was a slope of short turf with long dry strands which made the gra.s.s terribly slippery, and once any one had fallen here, and was in motion, the slope was at so dangerous an elevation that he would rapidly gather impetus, and shoot right off into s.p.a.ce to fall six hundred feet below on to the sh.o.r.e.

This danger did not check Ram's cheery whistle, and he climbed on, sticking his toes well into the short gra.s.s, and rising higher and higher till he reached some ragged shale with the gra.s.s, now very thin, and about a hundred feet back from the sea, in a spot which he felt would be well out of the sight of the cutter if those on board could see above the fog. He set down his lanthorns, two about five feet apart, lit them all, and held the third on the top of his head as he stood between the others, so that from seaward the lights would have appeared like a triangle.

It seemed all done in such a matter of course way that it was evident that Ram was accustomed to the task, and supporting the lanthorn on his head, first with one and then with the other hand, he went on whistling softly an old west country air, thinking the while about Sir Risdon and Lady Graeme, and about how poor they were, and how much better it was to live at a farmhouse where there was always plenty to eat, and where his father could go fishing in the lugger when he liked, and how he could farm and smuggle, and generally enjoy life.

"That's good half an hour," said Ram, lowering his lanthorn, opening the door, and puffing out the candle, afterwards serving the others the same.

_Whew_--_whew_--_whew_--_whew_!

A peculiar whishing of wings from far overhead, as a flock of birds flew on through the darkness of the night, following the wonderful instinct which made them take flight to other lands.

"Wasn't geese; and I don't think it was ducks," said the lad to himself, as he slung his darkened lanthorns together, and began to descend as coolly as if he had been provided by nature with wings to guard him against a fall down the cliff.

"Wonder whether they saw the lights," he said to himself. "Not much good showing them, if they were in the fog."

He went on, gradually approaching the mist which lay below him, and at last was descending the zigzag path with the stars blotted out, and the tiny drops of moisture gathering on his eyelashes, finding his way more by instinct than sight.

"Come in with the tide 'bout 'leven," said Ram, as he still descended the face of the cliff, then the path, and at last was well down in the little valley, whose mouth seemed to have been filled up in some convulsion of nature by a huge wall of cliff, under which the streamlet which ran from the hills had mined its way.

As soon as he was down on level ground, the boy started for home at a trot, gave the lanthorns into his mother's hands, and, after a brief inquiry as to his father's whereabouts, he started off once more.

The part of the cliff for which he made was exactly opposite Sir Risdon's old house, and to a stranger about the last place where it would be deemed possible for a smuggler to land his cargo.

Hence the successful landing of many a boat-load, which had been scattered the country through.

For there, at the foot of the cliff, lay a natural platform or pier, almost as level as if it had been formed for a landing stage. The deep water came right up to its edge, and here, at a chosen time of tide, a lugger could lie close in, and her busy crew and their helpmates land keg and bale upon the huge ledge,--a floor of intensely hard stone, full of great ammonites, many a couple of feet across, monsters of sh.e.l.l-fish, which had gradually settled down and died, when the stone in which they lay had been soft mud.

Revenue boats had of course, from time to time, as they explored the coast, noted this natural landing-place, but as there was only a broad step twenty feet above this to form another platform, and then the cliffs ran straight up two hundred feet slightly inclined over toward the sea, and the existence of even a moderate surf would have meant wreck, it was never even deemed likely that there was danger here, and consequently it was left unwatched.

The smugglers had a different opinion of the place, and on Ram reaching the spot he was in nowise surprised to find a group of about thirty men on the cliff, cl.u.s.tered about the end of a spar, whose b.u.t.t was run down into a hole in the rock, which lay a foot beneath the turf, and at whose end, as it rose at an angle, was a pulley block and rope run through ready for use should the lugger come.

"Where's father?" whispered Ram to one of the men, who looked curiously indistinct amid the fog.

"Here, boy," was whispered close to his ear. "Going down to help?"

"May I, father?"

Shackle grunted; and, after speaking to one of the men, Ram took hold of the loop at the end of the rope, thrust a leg through, held on tightly, and, after the word was given, swung himself off into the fog.

The well-oiled wheel ran fast, and it was a strange experience that of gliding rapidly down and steadily turning round and round with the thick darkness all around, and nothing to show that he who descended was not stationary. The peril of such a run down would have appeared the greater, could he who descended have seen how the rope was allowed to run. For no careful hands held it to allow it to glide through fingers, which could at any moment clutch the line tightly and act as a check.

The rope lay simply on the turf, and the man who watched over the descent, merely placed his boot over it, the hollow between sole and heel affording room for the rope to run, and a little extra pressure stopping its way.

Thus it was that Ram was allowed to glide rapidly down, till by experience the man knew that he was nearly at the bottom when the rope began to run more slowly, and then was checked exactly as the boy's feet touched the stone shelf, and he stepped from the loop on to the ammonite-studded rock.

Dimly seen about him was a group of a dozen men, whose faces looked mysterious and strange, and this was added to by the silence, for only one spoke, and he when he was addressed, for the first few minutes after Ram's arrival among them, every one there being listening attentively for the distant beat of oars.

"Think she'll come to-night, young Ram?" said the man close by him.

"Dunno."

"Been to show the lights?"

"Yes."

"Was there any fog up there?"

"No; clear as could be."