The Quest Of The 'Golden Hope' Part 5

Suddenly there was an exclamation of pain, followed by a heavy thud, and the next instant I was thrust violently against the wall as a powerful, agile figure tore past me and up the staircase.

A terrific crash of broken gla.s.s was followed by the shrieks of old Martha and groans in the darkness, while I heard Captain Jeremy rushing from his room, shouting for lights to be brought.

When at length we found tinder and steel and a light was provided, my father was seen lying on his face, bleeding profusely from a wound in the right side.

"Water!" he gasped feebly. "I am done for!" and before we could raise him from the floor he had swooned.

Jeremy, cursing loudly, was at first for pursuing the murderous villain who had dealt the fell blow, but pursuit was not to be thought of when we saw my father's desperate condition. Fearing to carry him upstairs to his own chamber, we lifted him into the dining-room, where we placed his senseless form on a roughly-constructed couch.

Constance had now joined us, and though trembling with fear and anxiety, she alone suggested the wisest course.

"Run, Clifford, for a chirurgeon!" she exclaimed, and, hatless and shoeless, though I had found time to don my clothing, I tore over the sodden fields to the house of Master Blackwood, who lived well on the outskirts of the village.

Seeing the case was urgent, though I could but babble an incoherent summons, the surgeon came quickly; and having made a hasty examination, the grave look on his clear-cut features showed that my sire was in dire peril of death.

Having dressed the wound, Master Blackwood applied himself to restoring his patient to consciousness, and while this was being done my glance fell upon the picture--or, rather, the frame--that my father had bought but a few short hours ago.

The painting was missing, cut from the frame by a sharp knife.

Almost at the same time Captain Miles noticed the empty frame, and, in spite of his accustomed coolness, his jaw dropped.

"Alack-a-day! A sorry pa.s.s! 'Tis the friar's curse come home," he muttered huskily.

Slowly the pale dawn struggled for the mastery with the feeble flicker of the rushlight till, in a mantle of vivid crimson hue, the sun rose red and angry in the eastern sky.

Then, and only then, could we see the full extent of the mischief that the robber had wrought. That the precious chart had been the object of his entry there could be no doubt, for in the short s.p.a.ce of time ere he was disturbed he had made straight for the painting that formerly concealed the parchment.

The shattered broomstick, a dark pool of blood at the foot of the stairs, and the shot-marked wainscot were silent evidences of the tragedy; while I found the hilt of a knife wedged firmly in the wall, close to where I was hurled by the escaping miscreant.

Then I remembered the incident, and to my surprise I found that I had a clean cut in the right shoulder. Though it had bled somewhat, in my excitement I had been unaware of it; yet 'twas a narrow escape.

"There's more behind this affair than we wot of," remarked Captain Jeremy. "The rogue had doubtless watched us through the window whilst your father and I were talking of the matter of the treasure, for I bear to mind the shutters were not drawn. Then, finding that the iron bars across the lower windows prevented him from entering save by much labour and trouble, he scaled the tree without your cas.e.m.e.nt and entered your room. But, Clifford, sorry though I be for your father's plight and sore hurt, 'tis a fortunate thing that the robber was foiled, for, see you, I had the chart with me, placed under my pillow for safety. As for the picture of the old _Venture_, 'tis of little account, though I did set some store on it for the sake of bygone times."

"But concerning the robber?" I asked. "If we are to inform the watch there will be danger of your discovery, yet I am loath to let the villain go unhindered."

"'Tis a matter that requires much consideration," he replied gravely. "I call to mind when I was on board the barque _Furie_ within sight of Port Royal. A fire broke out for'ard and threatened to consume us; our longboat and shallop were damaged, while alongside were swarms of sharks. As we could not save ourselves by flight, we fought the flames so determinedly that we put out the fire, though it seemed a well-nigh impossible task."

"And what of it?" I asked perplexedly, for I failed to grasp the Captain's meaning.

"You see, Master Clifford, this house, in a manner of speaking, is the burning craft, the King's officers are the sharks; so, until we know your father's pleasure in this business, I would that nothing be said concerning the affair. Master Blackwood I know to be a stanch and upright man who detests the unlawful practices of King James; he will keep silence. Your sister, also, I know to be circ.u.mspect; but I have my doubts about Martha, for the tongues of serving women, especially old ones, are apt to wag."

"I am content to let the matter rest for the present," I replied; and crossing the hall, I laid hold of the knife that was still fixed in the wainscot. It took much strength to wrench it free, and no little care, for the broken blade was as sharp as a razor. The steel was about a span in length, and wet for about half that distance with my father's blood. As I cleaned it, my eyes fell upon some letters engraved upon the blade. Worn though the steel was, I deciphered the letters "...emento mori".

"'Tis perchance the name of the cutler," said Captain Miles, taking the steel out of my hand and examining it carefully.

"Nay; 'tis certain you have not noticed similar words in Lymington Church," I replied. "The first letter is on the other portion of the broken blade, and the completed sentence is the Latin for 'Remember you must die'. I'll have a hilt fitted to this portion, Captain Jeremy, and should ill befall my father, the motto will guide me in the tracing of the villain."

"Strange it may be," remarked the Captain reflectively, "but now I recall an old shipmate of mine who bought a dagger in Lisbon with these words. He was, I remember, an ill-favoured creature."

"Was he short in stature, and bull-necked?" I asked eagerly.

"Nay," replied my companion, shaking his head; "you are on the wrong tack. Your father hath told me of the man you have in mind--the one who would have bought the picture, though, sink me! I cannot imagine why he should set such store on it. Nay; the man, though short in stature, was as thin as a handspike. But, my lad," he said kindly, "you look as white as a sheet. Here, take a turn in the garden, for the place smells like a charnel-house. Keep within ear-shot, lest you are wanted."

With a heavy heart I obeyed, having first obtained Constance's aid in applying a bandage to my wounded shoulder.

The damage done by yesternight's gale was enormous, though I paid little heed to the scene of desolation, but, stepping over the broken branches that everywhere littered the ground, walked round to the back of the house, whence the robber had made his escape.

He had left by the same means as he had entered--through the cas.e.m.e.nt of my room and down the tree that unfortunately provided a ready means of descent. Curiosity prompted me to examine the trunk, and on so doing I found traces of blood on the bark. I noticed that, if viewed from the window, the marks of blood were on the right-hand side of the trunk, and, as the fugitive must have descended with his face towards the bark, 'twas evident that he had been wounded on the right side of his person; and by the quant.i.ty of the blood it was further evident that the wound was of a severe nature.

Then the thought flashed across my mind: the villain was sore hurt, his track lay fresh upon the gra.s.s; why should I not follow him?

Running back to the house, I loaded my fowling-piece, and calling Bruno, my lurcher, I started in pursuit.

[1] Lest Clifford be thought a weak-minded coward, it is well to explain that previous to and during the seventeenth century there was a strong popular belief in the corporal presence of the Evil One. The study of any contemporary writer will confirm this. A notable example is afforded by the panic of Robinson Crusoe on discovering a dying goat in the darkness of a cave: "I saw two broad shining eyes of some creature, whether devil or man I knew not".

CHAPTER VII

The Cave in the Lonely Heath

The track was clearly defined, the sinister dark patches showing boldly upon the bright green gra.s.s with the utmost regularity. The man had certainly fled in a north-easterly direction, towards Black Down, the densest part of the forest. He had a start of at least six hours, but, even had he not already swooned from loss of blood, this advantage was slight. In my enthusiasm I imagined that the rogue was already my prisoner, marching, with my piece at his head, towards the common jail at Lymington.

The tell-tale line of spots crossed the highway and led on to the gorse-clad heath, but though there were evidences that the fugitive had blundered into many bushes in his flight in the dark, the general direction remained the same. At this I wondered not a little, for from my forest experience I knew that a man crossing an open s.p.a.ce in the dark would, without a light or other means to guide him, inevitably make a wide circle, unless he had the sense to keep his course by observing the direction of the wind. Yet I knew that after the storm the wind had died utterly away, so that the circ.u.mstance seemed stranger still.

I suppose I had not gone half a mile when, thrown behind some bushes, I espied the picture that the rogue had cut from its frame.

There were signs that he had made a lengthy halt, one being a large dark stain upon the damp soil, showing that much blood had been spilled. Another thing I conjectured: he had discovered that the chart was not, as evidently he had imagined, part of the picture, and in his rage he had thrown it aside. That being so, it showed that day had dawned ere he could have become acquainted with the failure of his fell designs.

Making the canvas into a roll, I slipped it into my belt, and continued my way.

On and on I went, sometimes breaking into a run, keeping both a sharp lookout in case of a surprise and a careful watch on the dull brown track, which now began to show at greater intervals than heretofore.

At length my progress was stopped by a narrow, gurgling stream that flowed southwards between gravelly banks lined with bushes and dwarfed trees. This stream I knew to be the Lym, the same that joins the sea at Lymington.

Here I was thwarted, for though I took off my hose and shoes and waded over the clayey bottom, not the slightest track could I find on the farther bank. I walked both up and down stream for nearly a quarter of a mile, carefully examining the soft clay, which would a.s.suredly reveal any trace of footprints after the heavy rain of the previous night; but the bank was innocent of any traces of human agency, though I encountered well-defined marks of ponies, deer, and otters.

Sick at heart, I now bethought me of Captain Jeremy's warning, so, unc.o.c.king my piece, I shouldered the weapon and set my face homewards. Bruno, who had followed the trail as keenly as I had done, seemed to share my dejection, for, instead of keeping a few paces ahead as he had done on the outward journey, he stuck close to my heels.

I was not returning by the same path, but rather, I should think, about two hundred yards to the right of it; yet with the smoke of the chimneys of Brockenhurst village to guide me I kept steadily onwards.

Suddenly, almost before I could utter a sound of alarm, the ground gave way beneath me; the bracken and the gorse seemed to shoot up past me, and the daylight gave place to semi-darkness.

Instinctively I clutched at the ledge of the pit, but without avail; then a thousand lights seemed to flash across my eyes, and I lost consciousness.

When I recovered my senses I found myself lying on the sandy floor of a natural cave or hollow, into which the light filtered through an aperture almost above my head--the hole through which I had fallen.