The Young Castellan Part 16

"Too rusty to go on, sir," said Ben, grimly. "But it would break her ladyship's heart if we didn't do our duty, and we shan't be doing that if we leave our outwork in the hands of poor old Jenk."

"What's to be done?"

"I know, sir. Tell him the gate's very important, and that he must have two men with him, and let him suppose they're under his command."

"That's it, capital!" cried Roy. "Then we must place two men there with him at once."

"Ye-e-es, sir," said Ben, drily. "But who are we to place there-- ourselves?"

Roy looked hard at Ben, and Ben looked hard at Roy.

"You see, sir, we've got the castle and the weepuns, but we've no garrison. That's the first thing to see to. Why, when those three troopers have gone back with their despatch, we shall have as good as n.o.body."

"But they're not going back, Ben. Father's orders are that they're to stay."

"Three trained soldiers, sir, to start with!" cried Ben. "Me four, and you five. Why, that's just like five seeds out of which we can grow a little army."

"Then there are the men-servants."

"Well, sir, they're more used to washing cups and cleaning knives, and plate, and horses; but we shall have to lick 'em into shape. Let's see, there's the three men indoors, the groom, and coachman, that makes five more."

"And the two gardeners."

"Of course, sir! Why, they'll make the best of 'em all. Twelve of us."

"And Master Pawson, thirteen."

"P'ff! him!" cried Ben, with a look of contempt. "What's he going to do? Read to the sentries, sir, to keep 'em from going to sleep?"

"Oh, he'll be of some use, Ben. We mustn't despise any one."

"Right, sir; we mustn't: so as soon as he comes back--he's gone over to Parson Meldew's--"

"Yes, I know."

"You tell him to get to his books and read all he can about sword and pike wounds, and how to take a bullet out of a man when he gets. .h.i.t.

Then he can cut up bandages, and get ready knives and scissors and thread and big needles."

"Do you mean in case of wounds, Ben?"

"Why, of course, sir."

"But do you think it likely that we shall have some--"

"Rather queer sort of siege if we don't have some damage done, sir.

Well, that settles about Master Pawson. Now, what next?"

"The men at the farm, Ben."

"Yes, sir; we ought to get about ten or a dozen. They're good stout lads. We must have them up at once and do a bit of drilling. They needn't stay here yet, but they can be got in order and ready to come in at a moment's notice. Next?"

"All the tenants must be seen, Ben. They'll all come too, and drill ready for service if wanted."

"And that means about another twenty, I suppose, sir."

"Yes, or more, Ben."

"If they're staunch, sir."

"Ah, but they would be. My father's own tenants!"

"I dunno, sir. If times are going to be like we hear, you'll find people pretty ready to go over to the strongest side."

"Oh, nonsense! There isn't a man round here who wouldn't shout for the king."

"Quite right, sir," said Ben. "I believe that."

"Then why do you throw out such nasty hints?"

"'Cause I've got my doubts, sir. Lots on 'em'll shout for the king, but if it comes to the pinch and things are going wrong, I want to know how many will fight for the king."

"Every true man, Ben."

"Azackly, sir; but, you see, there's a orful lot o' liars in the world.

But we shall see."

"Well, we've got to keep the castle, Ben."

"We have, sir, and keep it we will, till everybody's about wounded or dead, and the enemy comes swarming and cheering in, and then they shan't have it."

"Why, they'll have got it, Ben," said Roy, laughing, but rather uncomfortably, for the man's words as to the future did not sound pleasant.

"Ay, and I shall take it away from 'em, sir; for if the worst comes to the worst, I shall have made all my plans before, and I'll do a bit o'

Guy Fawkesing."

"What do you mean?"

"Why, I should ha' thought you'd ha' understood that, sir."

"Of course I do; but how could you blow up the castle?"

"By laying a train to the powder-magazine, knocking the heads out of a couple o' kegs, and then up it goes."

"Powder--magazine--kegs?" cried Roy. "Why, we haven't one, and I wanted to talk to you about getting some. How's it to be done?"

"By going to your father's lib'ry, sir, and opening the little drawer as he keeps locked up in the big oak table. There's the keys there."

"Yes, of the wine-cellars, Ben; but no--Oh, absurd!"