The Adventures of Don Lavington Part 24

A terrible sensation of despair came over him, and the idea of being dragged off to a s.h.i.+p, and carried right away, was unbearable. What were glorious foreign lands with their wonders to one who would be thought of as a cowardly thief?

As he leaned against a wall there in the darkness his busy brain pictured his stern-looking uncle telling his weeping mother that it was a disgrace to her to mourn over the loss of a son who could be guilty of such a crime, and then run away to avoid his punishment.

"Oh! If I had only been a little wiser," thought Don, "how much happier I might have been."

Then he forced himself to think out a way of escape, a little further conversation with Jem making him feel that he must depend upon himself, for poor Jem's injury seemed to make him at times confused; in fact, he quite startled his fellow-prisoner by exclaiming suddenly,--

"Now where did I put them keys?"

"Jem!"

"Eh? All right, Sally. 'Tarn't daylight yet."

"Jem, my lad, don't you know where you are?"

"Don't I tell you? Phew! My head. You there, Mas' Don?"

"Yes, Jem. How are you?"

"Oh, lively, sir, lively; been asleep, I think. Keep a good heart, Mas'

Don, and--"

"Hist! Here they come," cried Don, as he saw the gleam of a light through the cracks of the door. "Jem, do you think you could make a dash of it as soon as they open the door?"

"No, Mas' Don, not now. My head's all of a boom-whooz, and I seem to have no use in my legs."

"Oh!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Don despairingly.

"But never you mind me, my lad. You make a run for it, dive down low as soon as the door's open. That's how to get away."

_Cling_! _clang_!

Two bolts were shot back and a flood--or after the intense darkness what seemed to be a flood--of light flashed into the cellar, as the bluff man entered with another bearing the lanthorn. Then there was a great deal of shuffling of feet as if heavy loads were being borne down some stone steps; and as Don looked eagerly at the party, it was to see four sailors, apparently wounded, perhaps dead, carried in and laid upon the floor.

A thrill of horror ran through Don. He had heard of the acts of the press-gangs as he might have heard of any legend, and then they had pa.s.sed from his mind; but now all this was being brought before him and exemplified in a way that was terribly real. These four men just carried in were the last victims of outrage, and his indignation seemed to be boiling up within him when the bluff-looking man said good-humouredly,--

"That's the way to get them, my lad. Those four fellows made themselves tipsy and went to sleep, merchant sailors; they'll wake up to-morrow morning with bad headaches and in His Majesty's Service. Fine lesson for them to keep sober."

Don looked at the men with disgust. A few moments before he felt indignant, and full of commiseration for them; but the bluff man's words had swept all that away.

Then, crossing to where the man stood by the lanthorn-bearer, Don laid his hand upon his arm.

"You are not going to keep us, sir?" he said quietly. "My mother and my uncle will be very uneasy at my absence, and Jem--our man, has a young wife."

"No, no; can't listen to you, my lad," said the bluff man; "it's very hard, I know, but the king's s.h.i.+ps must be manned--and boyed," he added with a laugh.

"But my mother?"

"Yes, I'm sorry for your mother, but you're too old to fret about her.

We shall make a man of you, and that chap's young wife will have to wait till he comes back."

"But you will let me send a message to them at home?"

"To come and fetch you away, my lad? Well, hardly. We don't give that facility to pressed men to get away. There, be patient; we will not keep you in this hole long."

He glanced at the four sleeping men, and turned slowly to go, giving Don a nod of the head, but, as he neared the door he paused.

"Not very nice for a lad like you," he said, not unkindly. "Here, bring these two out, my lads; we'll stow them in the warehouse. Rather hard on the lad to shut him up with these swine. Here, come along."

A couple of the press-gang seized Don by the arms, and a couple more paid Jem Wimble the same attention, after which they were led up a flight of steps, the door was banged to and bolted, and directly after they were all standing on the floor of what had evidently been used as a tobacco warehouse, where the lanthorn light showed a rough step ladder leading up to another floor.

"Where shall we put 'em, sir?" said a sailor.

"Top floor and make fast," said the bluff man.

"But you will let me send word home?" began Don.

"I shall send you back into that lock-up place below, and perhaps put you in irons," said the man sternly. "Be content with what I am doing for you. Now then, up with you, quick!--"

There was nothing for it but to obey, and with a heavy heart Don followed the man with the lanthorn as he led the way to the next floor, Jem coming next, and a guard of two well-armed men and their bluff superior closing up the rear.

The floor they reached was exactly like the one they had left, and they ascended another step ladder to the next, and then to the next.

"There's a heap of bags and wrappers over yonder to lie down on, my lads," said the bluff man. "There, go to sleep and forget your troubles. You shall have some prog in the morning. Now, my men, sharp's the word."

They had ascended from floor to floor through trap-doors, and as Don looked anxiously at his captors, the man who carried the lanthorn stooped and raised a heavy door from the floor and held it and the light as his companions descended, following last and drawing down the heavy trap over his head.

The door closed with a loud clap, a rusty bolt was shot, and then, as the two prisoners stood in the darkness listening, there was a rasping noise, and then a crash, which Don interpreted to mean that the heavy step ladder had been dragged away and half laid, half thrown upon the floor below. Then the sounds died away.

"This is a happy sort o' life, Mas' Don," said Jem, breaking the silence. "What's to be done next? Oh! My head, my head!"

"I don't know, Jem," said Don despondently. "It's enough to make one wish one was dead."

"Dead! Wish one was dead, sir? Oh, come. It's bad enough to be knocked down and have the headache. Dead! No, no. Where did he say them bags was?"

"I don't know, Jem."

"Well, let's look. I want to lie down and have a sleep."

"Sleep? At a time like this!"

"Why not, sir? I'm half asleep now. Can't do anything better as I see."

"Jem," said Don pa.s.sionately, "we're being punished for all our discontent and folly, and it seems more than I can bear."

"But we must bear it, sir. That's what you've got to do when you're punished. Don't take on, sir. P'r'aps, it won't seem so bad when it gets light. Here, help me find them bags he talked about."

Don was too deep in thought, for the face of his mother was before him, and he seemed to see the agony she suffered on his account.