The Young Castellan Part 64

CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR.

THE USE OF A POWDER-MAGAZINE.

Roy found, as the time glided on in his monotonous life, that Ben's news was correct. General Hepburn was determined not to be surprised by any party of the Royalists who had learned from the fugitives that such a pa.s.sage existed; and to make a.s.surance doubly sure, he was about to build up the tunnel in three different places; but on second thoughts he did otherwise, setting his men to work to carry kegs of powder to some distance from the castle, placing them in a suitable position in the tunnel, and then, after making a fuse of several yards in length, having a tremendously strong wall built up across the place, leaving a hole just big enough for the fuse to pa.s.s through.

This was all done very quietly, Roy supposing that the men were merely building. Then a few days were allowed to pa.s.s for the cement to settle and harden before the fuse was fired.

The fact was known one morning at breakfast, when a terrific roar made Roy rush from the table and up to the ramparts, in full expectation of seeing a battery of guns just opening fire on the castle.

"Yes, it is," he panted to himself as he looked over towards the chapel hill, and saw the smoke rising from a mound of earth.

But in a few minutes he knew the truth from one of the officers who challenged him for coming there, and went back to breakfast with his appet.i.te gone, for he felt that one of the means of escape was completely sealed up, and the night would never come when he could, with the help of his friends, lead Lady Royland through the pa.s.sage on their way to liberty.

"And a good thing, too," he said bitterly to the old sergeant, for the grapes seemed to be very sour. "I don't want to escape. I wouldn't go if the way were open, and I'm sure my mother would not leave our own old home. Why, it would be like giving it all to Pawson, and I'll die before he shall have it in peace."

"'Ray, 'ray, 'ray, 'ray!" cried Ben, softly. "Can't shout it out as I should like to, Master Roy. That's the right sperit, sir. We won't never give up, come what may."

Old Jenk pa.s.sed them just then, muttering to himself as he tottered by, and paying no heed when spoken to, while the various sentries treated him as a kind of amiable old madman, who was licenced to go about as he pleased, being perfectly harmless.

Another day pa.s.sed, and Roy was walking up and down in his favourite part of the court-yard thinking of when he should ask General Hepburn for a written permission to go about on the ramparts, for the officer had spoken rather sharply to him after he had run up on the occasion of the blowing up of the tunnel.

But he did not ask the general, for the events that followed came one upon another so quickly that the matter pa.s.sed out of his mind.

For all at once, just as Ben was coming slowly up to him, one of the sentinels shouted to the officer of the guard below, and word was pa.s.sed to the general that a dragoon was galloping up along the road as fast as he could hurry his horse along.

A few minutes later, in the midst of a little excitement, the man drew rein at the outer gate-way, held up a packet in answer to a challenge, and as soon as the drawbridge was lowered, he dismounted and walked his horse over, for the poor beast was terribly distressed, and the rider appeared exhausted.

Roy stood eagerly watching, for this evidently meant something important, otherwise the messenger would not have nearly ridden his horse to death, the poor beast standing drooping in the middle of the court-yard; while the man, whose face was blackened with dust and sweat, and disfigured by a broad strip of plaster which extended from high up among the roots of his closely-cropped hair on the left temple down to his right eyebrow, leaned heavily on the sun-dial and asked for water.

The general read his despatch carefully twice, and then turned to the messenger to question him in a low voice, looking at him searchingly the while.

"Did General Braxley give you this despatch to bring?"

The man straightened himself up, but reeled and s.n.a.t.c.hed at the sun-dial again from weakness.

"No, sir; to my comrade. We met a vedette of the enemy, and had to make a running fight for it till he went down, and I s.n.a.t.c.hed up the despatch and came on."

"How far from here are the enemy?"

"About five-and-twenty miles, sir, I should say."

"In what direction?"

"Towards Exeter, sir. I did hear say that the king was with them."

"Hah! And how strong are they, do you suppose?"

"'Bout four hundred hors.e.m.e.n, I heard say, sir; but it was only what my comrade told me."

"Go into the guard-room and get some refreshment," said the general, after reading his despatch carefully again.

The man turned to go, and just then his horse fell heavily, the blood gushed from its nostrils as it gave a few convulsive struggles, and then lay dead.

The messenger went to its head, sank upon one knee, as Roy joined the group around, bent lower, kissed the poor animal's brow. Then he drew his sword, cut off a piece of its forelock, thrust it into his wallet, and amidst perfect silence, followed one of the men to the guard-room, hanging his head, while Roy longed to go and shake him by the hand.

The next moment the silence was broken by the loud blare of a trumpet, and a gun was fired from the gate tower.

Roy had directly after a specimen of the general's military capacity, for by the time the court was filling with armed men, one of the sentinels on the north-west tower announced the coming of the squadron of horse that had been camping by and in the ruined chapel; while, within half an hour, the troop in the castle rode out, each bearing a foot-soldier upon the crupper of his saddle,--the squadron without waiting to take on an equal number themselves. The general meanwhile sat upon his charger conversing in a low tone with the officer he was about to leave in command.

Just then, looking very weak and ill, the messenger came hurrying out of the guard-room, putting on his steel cap.

He waited till the general approached, and Roy was near enough to hear what was now said, the man speaking in a husky voice.

"Beg pardon, general; will you give orders for me to be supplied with a fresh horse?"

"What for?" said General Hepburn, turning on him sharply.

"To go with you and join my regiment."

"No; stay here. Captain Ramsay, if there is any ruse being practised, as soon as you hear that disaster has come to nay party, place that man against the wall and have him shot."

The dragoon raised his hand to his cap in salute; and as soon as the general had ridden out, he staggered more than walked to where the dead horse lay, and took its head into his lap, to sit gazing sorrowfully into its reproachful-looking, glazing eyes.

"I'm a tough old chap, Master Roy," whispered Ben, "but my eyes are so watery I can hardly see; and if that orderly warn't an enemy, I'd just go and shake him by the fist."

Unconsciously the old sergeant had exactly expressed Roy's own feelings; but the next minute all show of weakness and sentiment had pa.s.sed away.

The trooper turned from the lookers-on, giving the horse's neck three or four pats, and then began to unbuckle headstall, and take off bridle and bit before unbuckling the girths, rising and taking hold of the saddle, giving it a sharp s.n.a.t.c.h to drag it free. But he had to put his heavily-booted foot against the horse's back, and tug several times before he could get the girths from beneath the heavy weight.

Then, throwing the saddle across his arm, and picking up the bridle, he turned to the nearest sentinel, asked a question, had the low archway pointed out which led into the bas.e.m.e.nt used for stabling, and disappeared down the slope.

"Oh, my lad, my lad," said Ben, softly; "what a chance if we'd got anything ready!"

"What--to surprise?" said Roy, as he watched the portcullis re-descending, and saw the drawbridge begin to glide up directly after.

"That's it, sir. They're as weak as weak here now, with all them gone, and we're nine strong men, for Sam Donny could fight in spite of his twissen foot."

"There's nothing the matter with Sam's foot, Ben; it's all sham; I've known it from the first."

"What?--So much the better, then."

"So much the worse, because we can do nothing. They are still a hundred strong."

"Nay, sir--not above eighty."

"Ten to one, Ben. I'd do anything, but we have no arms."