Nic Revel Part 9

"Huzza, Nic!" he cried excitedly. "This is going to be a night of nights."

It was.

CHAPTER NINE.

READY FOR ACTION.

"That's about their size, Master Nic," said Solly, as he stood in the coach-house balancing a heavy cudgel in his hand--one of a couple of dozen lying on the top of the corn-bin just through the stable door.

"Oh, the size doesn't matter, Bill," said Nic impatiently.

"Begging your pardon, sir, it do," said the old sailor severely. "You don't want to kill n.o.body in a fight such as we're going to have, do ye?"

"No, no; of course not."

"There you are, then. Man's sure to hit as hard as he can when his monkey's up; and that stick's just as heavy as you can have 'em without breaking bones. That's the sort o' stick as'll knock a man silly and give him the headache for a week, and sarve him right. If it was half-a-hounce heavier it'd kill him."

"How do you know?" said Nic sharply.

"How do I know, sir?" said the man wonderingly. "Why, I weighed it."

Nic would have asked for further explanations; but just then there were steps heard in the yard, and the gardener and a couple of labourers came up in the dusk.

"Oh, there you are," growled Solly. "Here's your weepuns;" and he raised three of the cudgels. "You may hit as hard as you like with them. Seen any of the others?"

"Yes," said the gardener; "there's two from the village coming along the road, and three of us taking the short cut over the home field. That's all I see."

"Humph!" said Solly. "There ought to be five more by this time."

"Sick on it, p'r'aps," grumbled the gardener; "and no wonder. We are."

"What! Are you afraid?" cried Nic.

"No, sir, I aren't afraid; on'y sick on it. I like a good fight, and so do these here when it's 'bout fair and ekal, but every time we has a go in t'other side seems to be the flails and we only the corn and straw.

They're too many for us. I'm sick o' being thrashed, and so's these here; and that aren't being afraid."

"Why, you aren't going to sneak out of it, are you?" growled Solly.

"No, I aren't," said the gardener; "not till I've had a good go at that Pete Burge and Master Humpy Dee. But I'm going to sarc.u.mwent 'em this time."

"Here are the others coming, Bill," cried Nic.--"What are you going to do this time?" he said to the gardener.

"Sarc.u.mwent 'em, Master Nic," said the man, with a grin. "It's no use to hit at their heads and arms or to poke 'em in the carca.s.s--they don't mind that; so we've been thinking of it out, and we three's going to hit 'em low down."

"That's good," said Solly; "same as we used to sarve the black men out in Jay-may-kee. They've all got heads as hard as skittle-b.a.l.l.s, but their shins are as tender as a dog's foot."

Just then five more men came up and received their cudgels; and directly after three more came slouching up; and soon after another couple, and received their arms.

"Is this all on us?" said one of the fresh-comers, as the st.u.r.dy fellows stood together.

"Ay, is this all, Master Nic?" cried another.

"Why?" he said sharply.

"Because there aren't enough, sir," said the first man. "I got to hear on it down the village."

"Ah! you heard news?" cried Nic.

"Ay, sir, if you call such ugly stuff as that news. There's been a bit of a row among 'em, all along o' Pete Burge."

"Quarrelling among themselves?"

"That's right, sir; 'cause Pete Burge said he wouldn't have no more to do with it; and they've been at him--some on 'em from over yonder at the town. I hear say as there was a fight, and then Pete kep' on saying he would jyne 'em; and then there was another fight, and Pete Burge licked the second man, and then he says he wouldn't go. And then there was another fight, and Pete Burge licked Humpy Dee, and Humpy says Pete was a coward, and Pete knocked him flat on the back. 'I'll show you whether I'm a coward,' he says. 'I didn't mean to have no more to do wi' Squire Revel's zammon,' he says; 'but I will go to-night, for the last time, just to show you as I aren't a cowards,' he says, 'and then I'm done.'"

"Ay; and he zays," cried another man from the village, "'If any one thinks I'm a coward, then let him come and tell me.'"

"Then they are coming to-night?" cried Nic, who somehow felt a kind of satisfaction in his adversary's prowess.

"Oh, ay," said the other man who had grumbled; "they're a-coming to-night. There's a big gang coming from the town, and I hear they're going to bring a cart for the zammon. There'll be a good thirty on 'em, Master Nic, zir; and I zay we aren't enough."

"No," said Nic quietly; "we are not enough, but we are going to have our revenge to-night for all the knocking about we've had."

"But we're not enough, Master Nic. We're ready to fight, all on us--eh, mates?"

"Ay!" came in a deep growl.

"But there aren't enough on us."

"There will be," said Nic in an eager whisper, "for a strong party of Jack-tars from the king's ship that was lying off this evening are by this time marching up to help us, and we're going to give these scoundrels such a thrashing as will sicken them from ever meddling again with my father's fish."

"Yah!" growled a voice out of the gloom.

"Who said that?" cried Nic.

"I did, Master Nic," said the gardener sharply; "and you can tell the Captain if you like. I say it aren't fair to try and humbug a lot o'

men as is ready to fight for you. It's like saying 'rats' to a dog when there aren't none."

"Is it?" cried Nic, laughing. "How can that be? You heard just now that there will be about thirty rats for our bulldogs to worry."

"I meant t'other way on, sir," growled the man sulkily. "No sailor bulldogs to come and help us."

"How dare you say that?" cried Nic angrily.

"'Cause I've lived off and on about Plymouth all my life and close to the sea, and if I don't know a king's ship by this time I ought to.

That's only a lubberly old merchantman. Why, her yards were all anyhow, with not half men enough to keep 'em square."

"Bah!" cried Solly angrily. "Hold your mouth, you one-eyed old tater-grubber. What do you mean by giving the young master the lie?"