No Man's Island Part 34

When uncle and nephew regained the lower floor they found that Armstrong had not been idle. From one side of the room he had hauled a long, stout table and set it up endwise against the door, between that and the printing press.

"Capital!" said Mr. Pratt. "You have doubled the thickness of our armour. But, in default of sandbags, we must find something to strengthen our defences still further."

"I had thought of that, sir," said Armstrong. "There's nothing but this bale of paper and the sheets already printed. I think they will pretty well fill the s.p.a.ce between the press and the door; if not we can get some of the boxes from below. They are no longer needed there."

"Excellent idea! You young fellows set about that while I keep watch."

In a few minutes the boys had wedged the paper and a number of boxes into the vacant s.p.a.ce, so as to form almost a solid block. Mr. Pratt meanwhile reported the movements of the enemy without.

"Gradoff is surrounded by his gang. He is haranguing them. Two of them have gone away towards the river. Nick Rush looks a little uncomfortable. No doubt he prefers stealth and secrecy, and has visions of the interior of a prison cell. Wonderful how brave a man can be if he thinks he will not be found out. They are taking off their coats.

Aha! They are going to ram us. The two men have returned with a long pole. A pity I had those trees felled; pity, too, that I had the parapet so thoroughly repaired, or we might have hurled stones upon our a.s.sailants in the manner of our ancestors. They used boiling oil, too, molten lead, and various other pleasant devices which are out of our power. Ah! The performance is about to begin. Six of them have lifted the pole--a fine, straight piece of timber. One of the strangers, I observe, is lending a hand. Gradoff is usually so calm and self-contained that the excitement with which he is now giving orders is somewhat amusing. What weapons have we, by the way?"

"I have that fellow Jensen's pistol, sir," said Armstrong. "Besides that we have only short cudgels."

"And the hammer and chisel," added Percy.

"We are unexpectedly well off," said Mr. Pratt. "I think I will take the pistol; no doubt I am a little more used to that sort of thing than Armstrong. For the rest--come, my lads, Gradoff has finished. Stand ready!"

The position now was that before an entry could be forced, the door must be broken, and the barricade of table, boxes and paper overthrown. Mr.

Pratt and the boys had just posted themselves beside the printing press, when there was a thundering crash at the door. The room seemed to quiver; some of the upper sheets of paper rose and fell as if a wind had blown upon them; and the vibration caused the printing press to give forth a low ringing note. But the stout oaken door had not yielded.

There were shouts outside. A few moments pa.s.sed; then the building shook under the impact of a second stroke.

"Heart of oak!" exclaimed Mr. Pratt, with satisfaction. "The door is oak; the ram, I think, is beech. Listen."

The tones of Gradoff's voice, soaring to an unnatural pitch, were heard chiding, urging, encouraging. A third time his men advanced, not with the cheery unisonal "Yo! ho!" of British tars, but each man raising his particular cry.

"More vim in that," remarked Armstrong, as the shattering blow resounded. "And look, sir."

About a foot below the upper hinge of the door, which was not covered by the table, a jagged streak of light shone through.

"Yes," said Mr. Pratt, coolly. "They have cracked the sh.e.l.l. The hinges will give. In five or six minutes they will be scrambling over our barricade. I find I have only four cartridges; they must be reserved for the critical moment. Percy, run upstairs and bring down the hammer and chisel--yes, and the chain. I have no objection whatever to turning the enemy's weapons against him."

While Percy was absent, the a.s.sailants, who had evidently marked the damage already done, again rammed the door, on the same side. There was a flood of light through a gap nearly a foot square; splinters of timber across the upturned end of the table fell at Armstrong's feet. At the next blow the door split from top to bottom, and the whole of the upper part fell inwards. Apparently the enemy guessed that some attempt at a barricade had been made, for their next stroke was delivered lower down, with such force that it broke through the door, drove the table in, and sent some of the piled-up boxes toppling.

"Won't you now try a shot, sir?" said Armstrong.

"They have drawn back; next time," replied Mr. Pratt. "Stand clear."

Once more the battering-ram was rushed forward. It could now be seen that the shorter men held the fore part; the taller men were behind. Mr.

Pratt raised his arm, but before he could take deliberate aim the forceful stroke carried the remnants of the door inwards, and hurled the shattered table, broken boxes, and flying sheets of paper in one indistinguishable ma.s.s upon the printing press, which gave way and fell with a mighty crash upon the floor. Mr. Pratt barely escaped being overthrown with it. He staggered backward, and the pistol was knocked from his hand. The small figure of the Italian chauffeur leapt into the breach, and began to clamber over the wreckage. Armstrong darted forward, and, before the man had time to swing round, Armstrong's cudgel descended with a resounding crack upon his skull, and he fell sprawling among the litter.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "HE STAGGERED BACKWARD, AND THE PISTOL WAS KNOCKED FROM HIS HAND."]

But Maximilien Rod was at his heels. Stumbling over him, the cook plunged head foremost among the boxes, only his fall saving him from Armstrong's club. Immediately behind him dashed the tall Pole. Having no time to swing his cudgel, Armstrong jabbed at him, and catching him under the chin sent him reeling against the doorpost. Meanwhile Mr.

Pratt had disengaged himself from the obstructing press and regained his pistol, just as Rush and his big comrade of the island forged through the opening. The Pole had sprung to his feet with catlike agility. A revolver cracked. Mr. Pratt recoiled, rapidly changed his pistol from the right hand to the left, and fired.

There was a sudden lull. Rush and the Finn had slipped back out of harm's way. Through the smoke Armstrong saw two men on the floor--the chauffeur whom he had felled, and the Pole, victim to Mr. Pratt's pistol.

"Back to the stairs!" murmured the old gentleman. He tottered.

"Are you hit, sir?" cried Armstrong, darting to his support.

"Yes. Leave me and hold the stairs."

At this moment the entrance was darkened by the forms of the remaining members of the attacking party, Rush and the Finn, urged forward by Gradoff and his friends. Armstrong, holding Mr. Pratt, felt that the game was up. But now came Percy leaping down the winding stairs. Into the room he dashed, carrying a long bar of iron. Taking in the situation at a glance, he flung himself at the foremost intruders. Rush doubled up under his vehement onslaught; Sibelius recoiled upon Gradoff; and the momentary check gave Armstrong time to haul Mr. Pratt out of the light to the foot of the dark stairway. Swiftly withdrawing from the heap of wreckage, Percy had barely joined them and helped to draw his uncle up a few steps to the protection of the curving wall, when four pistols cracked, and chips of stone fell clattering upon the stairs.

Immediately afterwards a burly arm and shoulder showed itself in the round of the wall. Quick as thought Percy lunged with his iron bar and jabbed the intruder just below the elbow. The man threw out a hoa.r.s.e, savage cry, and disappeared. For a brief s.p.a.ce there was silence; then came the noise of heavy feet kicking aside the debris in the room below, and rushing towards the stairway.

"Leave me," said Mr. Pratt again, sitting on one of the steps.

Armstrong sprang down, and darting in front of Percy, came face to face with one of the strangers, who was rounding the corner, brandishing a pistol. Unprepared, apparently, for sudden counter-attack, and incommoded by the right-hand twist of the narrow staircase, the man let slip his momentary chance of firing point-blank, but had enough presence of mind to dodge the blow Armstrong aimed at him. If there had been room for two abreast on the stairs it might have gone ill with Armstrong then; he staggered forward and thrust his hands against the wall to save himself from falling. Behind him, however, Percy had swiftly taken his cue. With his extemporised pike he caught the stranger in the middle.

The man recoiled upon his companions in the rear. A storm of curses broke from them, but in a few moments the din subsided, and nothing was heard except the low voices of the enemy in consultation.

"Jolly good weapon," whispered Armstrong, indicating the iron bar.

"Where did you get it?"

"Wrenched it off my uncle's bedstead," replied Percy.

"Any more?"

"One."

"Well, leave me this and go and get it, old chap. It's more useful than the club."

"Is there time?"

"I think so. They won't know quite what to do. But hurry up. I'll look after your uncle--give him first aid. He ought to go upstairs; by the time you're down again I'll have him ready to move."

"Much hurt, Uncle?" asked Pratt, bending down.

"A furrow ploughed in my forearm; nothing vital. Perhaps one of you will bind up the wound for me."

"I'll do that, sir," said Armstrong. "Cut away, Percy."

CHAPTER XXIV

A LEVY EN Ma.s.sE

To lie on one's back, bitted like a horse, trussed like a chicken, with flies and midges disporting themselves, unchecked, about one's features, and ants making adventurous journeys among one's clothes, is a situation that, to say the least of it, puts a strain upon a man's patience and equanimity. It is not greatly eased by the liberty of his eyes when their range is limited by dense overhanging foliage, which stirs in the breeze, opening tantalising glimpses of a sunbright sky.

On his turfy couch Warrender lay, groaning inwardly, cursing himself for delaying his errand, and Fate for bringing his enemies just then upon the scene; vexing his soul with visions of his companions caught unawares, and of Mr. Pratt still chained to his post; blaming himself, with the insight of the afflicted, for having countenanced a scheme that usurped the functions of the officers of the law. A fly feasted on his nose; gnats buzzed in and out of his ears; ants chased one another over his neck and up his arms, causing him to feel one mult.i.tudinous and intricate itch.

He had tried to wriggle himself free from his bonds, but Rush had not been poacher and fisher for nothing. Desisting from his vain struggles, he lay mumbling his gag, shaking his head like a tormented horse, and, as the minutes pa.s.sed, sweating with alarm.