Dick o' the Fens Part 4

CHAPTER THREE.

A STORMY NIGHT.

It was a tremendous blast which came sweeping over the sea, and quite checked the progress of the travellers for the moment, but they pressed on, seeming to go right through the squall, and trudging along st.u.r.dily towards home.

"I begin to wish someone had put a light in the window for us, d.i.c.k,"

said the squire at the end of a few minutes' walking. "It's getting terribly dark."

d.i.c.k said, "Yes," and thought of the thread, but he made no allusion to it, only laughed to himself and tramped on.

"By the way, how uneasy that dog seemed!" said the squire as they trudged on with heads bent, for they were facing the blast now.

"Yes, father; we pa.s.sed a fox."

"Pa.s.sed a fox! Why, you couldn't see a fox a dark night like this."

"No, but I could smell him, father, and we heard him catch a duck."

"Ah! I see. And did the dog scent out the fox?"

"Yes, I think so, and that made him whine."

"Come along, my lad. Let's get on as fast as we can. It's growing blacker, and I'm afraid we shall have some rain."

No rain fell, but the sky was completely clouded over and the darkness seemed to grow more and more intense. The wind kept increasing in violence and then dying out, as if it came in huge waves which swept over them and had a great interval between, while as the rush and roar of the gusts pa.s.sed there came the deep hoa.r.s.e murmur of the distant sea.

"d.i.c.k," said the squire suddenly, "you are so young that you can hardly feel with me, but I want someone to talk to now, and I may as well tell you that I am going to risk a great deal of money over the draining of the fen."

"Are you, father?"

"Yes, my lad, and I have been feeling a natural shrinking from the risk.

To-night sweeps all that away, for in spite of having lived here so many years as I have, I never before felt how needful it all was."

"Do you think so, father?"

"Indeed I do, my lad, for anything more risky than our walk to-night I hardly know. What's that?"

The squire stopped short and grasped his son's arm, as, after a furious gust of wind, the distant murmur of the sea seemed to have been overborne by something different--a confused lapping, trickling, and rushing noise that seemed to come from all parts at once.

"I don't know, father," said d.i.c.k, who was slightly startled by his father's manner. "Shall we go on?"

"Yes," said the squire hoa.r.s.ely. "Let's get home quick."

They started on again, walking fast, but at the end of a minute d.i.c.k uttered a cry.

"We're off the road, father. Water!"

As he spoke he was ankle-deep, and in taking a step to catch his son's arm, Squire Winthorpe felt the water splash up around him.

"Can you see the lights at the Priory, d.i.c.k?" he said sharply.

"No, father."

"We can't be off the path," said the squire. "Is it boggy and soft under you?"

"No, father--hard; but I'm in the water."

"It's hard here too," said the squire, trying the ground with his feet; "and yet we must be off the road. Stand fast, my boy; don't move."

"Are you going away, father?" said d.i.c.k.

"No, only a few yards, boy. I want to see where we got off the track, whether it's to the right or left."

"It's so dark," said d.i.c.k, "I can hardly see my hand. Mind how you go, father; there are some deep bog-holes about here."

"Then you stand fast, my boy."

"Hadn't you better stand fast too, father?"

"And both perish in the wet and cold, my boy! No. I'll soon find the road. It must be close by."

Not a tree or post to guide him, nothing but the thick darkness on all sides, as Squire Winthorpe cautiously moved one foot before the other, keeping one upon solid ground while he searched about with the other, and as he moved _splash_--_splish_--_splash_, the water flew, striking cold to his legs, and sending a chill of dread to his very heart.

"It's very strange," he cried; "but don't be frightened, d.i.c.k. We shall be all right directly."

"I'm not frightened, father," replied the boy. "I'm puzzled."

"And so am I, my lad, for I did not know we could find such solid bottom off the road. Ah!"

"What's the matter, father?"

"I told you not to move, sir," roared the squire, for he had heard a slight splash on his right.

"I couldn't help it, father; my foot seemed to slip, and--why, here's the road!"

"There?" cried the squire eagerly.

"Yes, father, and my foot's slipped down into a big rut."

"Are you sure, boy?"

"Sure! Yes, father, it _is_ the road. I say, what does it mean?"

The answer was a quick splashing sound, as Squire Winthorpe hurried to his son's side and gripped his arm, to stand there for a few moments listening and thinking as he realised the meaning of the strange rushing, plashing noise that came from all round.

"I know," cried d.i.c.k suddenly; "the sea-bank's broke, and we're going to have a flood."

"Yes," said the squire hoa.r.s.ely; "the bank has gone, my boy."