The Young Castellan Part 25

"You don't know till you've tried, man. Now, let's see: get an axe, sergeant."

"If I might ask your pardon, captain, axes aren't the proper thing to break up a block of gunpowder. I should say a beetle or a mall was the thing."

"Well, get a mallet, then," said Roy; and the old man went to his tools used for repairing the armour, carpentering, or any other odd jobs, and brought out a mallet, with which he was about to strike a tremendous blow in the middle of the block, when Roy checked him.

"No, no!" he cried; "give it to me. I'll knock a piece off the top edge."

Ben handed the mallet respectfully enough, but he shook his head as if he did not consider that handling mallets was correct for the castellan of the place; while raising the implement not without some shade of doubt as to whether an explosion might follow the blow, but rea.s.suring himself as he remembered that the mallet was only wood, Roy brought it down on the top with a sharp rap, and then started back in dismay, for a piece like a fragment of black potsherd fell upon the table with a bang, and a stream of fine grains came flowing out of the great hole he had made, covering the hardened piece and running on like black sand.

"Hurrah!" shouted Ben, excitedly; "they're all right, sir. Just formed a cake outside, and the inside's all safe and good. Twelve good bra.s.s guns, and plenty of powder. We're ready for all the enemies the king has got in this part of the world. Now we'll see for a couple of cartridges for the guns."

He fetched a couple of small bags, which he filled with the powder, and then, after putting back the unbroken keg-shaped block, as carefully cleared all the loose powder from the table, and placed that and the shape from which it had come in the oak closet, which he locked.

"Powder's powder, sir; so one has to take care," he said. "Now for a touch port-fire, and we'll try what sort of stuff it is."

Ben gave Roy a knowing look, and then from a drawer in the table he took a piece of prepared oak.u.m such as was used for lowering into the pan of a freshly primed gun, stepped to a case in which were some old rammers, and declared himself ready to start, but hesitated and went to his tool-drawer again, out of which he routed a long thin spike.

"Now I think we're ready, sir," he said, and they went out to where the men were waiting, and prepared to load the two guns under the gate tower.

"These are only makeshifts," said Ben, apologetically, as he indicated his rough cartridges; "but they'll do to clear out the guns," and he set them down in the door-way leading into the old guard-room.

Then the long thin pin was tried in the touch-holes of both guns, and after a good deal of poking and drilling the orifices were cleared.

Meanwhile, one of the troopers took the rammer Ben had brought out, inserted it at the muzzle, and found that it would only go in half-way.

So a ragged stick was fetched, run in, twisted round and round, and withdrawn, dragging after it a wad of horsehair, cotton, hay, and feathers, while a succession of trials brought out more and more, the twisting round having a cleansing effect upon the bore of the gun as well.

"Ah!" said Ben, solemnly, "them tomt.i.ts have had the guns all to themselves for a fine time. I shall have to make some tompions to keep them out."

Quite a heap of nest-building material was drawn out of the two guns, the first obtained being evidently of that season, while farther in it was old and decayed to a mere mouldy powder that might have been carried in by the industrious little birds a score of years before.

At last all was declared clear. The bags of powder were thrust in, a wad of the cleanest hay from the heap followed, and one of the troopers rammed the charges home, with the result that the powder rose well in the touch-holes, and nothing remained to be done but to insert the lightly twisted pieces of touch-string and apply a light.

"Better way than doing it with a red-hot poker, as some of us might like to stand back till the guns are proved," said the old soldier, grimly.

"One of you take that there to the kitchen and get a light," he said, "to do for a port-fire."

He handed a piece of the prepared oak.u.m to one of the men, who ran off with it, and directly after Roy stepped back quickly and hurried into the house.

Ben said nothing, but he glanced after the boy with a fierce look, pursing up his lips, and then muttering to himself, his expression indicating the most profound disgust.

Meanwhile, Roy ran into the private apartments of the castle, and made his way to the library; but Lady Royland was not there.

Uttering an e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n full of impatience, the boy hurried into the withdrawing-room, where he had better fortune, for he found his mother waiting there as if she expected him.

"You, my dear?" she said. "I was waiting here to see Master Pawson; he sent me a message to ask if I would see him on matters of importance.

Do you know what he wishes to say?"

"Well, I almost think I do, mother," replied the boy.

"Then you have come to meet him?"

"No," said the boy; "I didn't know he had sent. I came to warn you not to be alarmed, for we are just going to fire."

_Boom_!

A report like thunder made the cas.e.m.e.nts rattle as if they were being dashed in. This was followed by an echoing roar, and then came a yelling cry as of some one in agony.

"Oh, my boy, what has happened?" cried Lady Royland, starting from her chair, clapping her hands to her ears, and then sinking back palpitating in the nearest chair. "Run and see; something terrible must have occurred."

Roy had already dashed to the door, and he ran out and along to the great gate-way, where his mother's words seemed to be verified, for, on reaching the spot where the gun which had been fired had run back a short distance, there was the knot of men half hidden by the smoke that was slowly rising, and in front of them, just below the portcullis, lay, apparently lifeless, the figure of Master Pawson, face downward upon the flags.

"What have you done, Ben?" cried the boy.

"Done? I never done it," growled the man, fiercely. "You runned away; so I put the light to the gun myself, and then we all stood and waited, till all at wunst Master Pawson comes round the corner like. I dunno how he come there; and off goes the gun and down goes he."

Roy was already upon one knee, turning the secretary over on his back and examining him for the terrible injury he felt must have been received. But as Roy was proceeding to open his collar, he opened his eyes, sprang up into a sitting position, and then began to abuse the boy fiercely.

"You did it on purpose," he cried; "and it's a mercy it did not kill me."

"Then you are not killed?" said Roy, dryly.

"No; but I might have been. It was a cowardly thing to do."

"Ay, it were, Master Roy!" whispered Ben, turning upon him. "I thought you'd ha' had heart enough to ha' stood by us."

"What do you mean?" cried Roy, rising angrily.

"Oh, you know, sir; sets such a bad example to the men."

"I don't understand you; nor you neither, Master Pawson."

"It's disgraceful; and Lady Royland shall put a stop to such monkey tricks."

"Powder-monkey tricks," growled Ben.

"Why, you don't think I fired that gun on purpose, sir?"

"No, I don't think so," cried Master Pawson, in his high-pitched, scolding tone; "I am quite sure, sir; and it is disgraceful."

"But I wasn't here!"

"You were there. I saw you with the men, pretending to clean the gun, while I was yonder watching the sunset and waiting for an answer to a message I had sent in to your mother, sir, when, as you saw me come round the corner, you fired."

"I did not, sir; for I was not there."

"Ay, that's true enough, sir," said Ben, bitterly; "he warn't here."

"I don't believe it," cried Master Pawson, angrily, and his voice sounded like that of some angry woman. "It was a trick; and all this nonsense shall be put a stop to."

"You can believe it or not, sir," said Roy, growing calmer as the secretary waxed more angry.