The Adventures of Don Lavington Part 29

"Wants Mr Jones," came up.

"Luff wants you, sir," said the man.

"Right. There, cheer up, my lads; you might be worse off than you are,"

said the bluff visitor pleasantly. Then, clapping Don on the shoulder, "Don't sulk, my lad. Make the best of things. You're in the king's service now, so take your fate like a man."

He nodded and crossed to the trap.

"Ahoy, there! Below there! I'm coming.--Can't expect a bosun to break his neck."

He said these last words as his head and shoulders were above the floor, and gave the prisoners a friendly nod just as his eyes were disappearing.

"Come along, my lad," he said, when he was out of sight.

"Ay! Ay!" growled the furtive-looking man, slowly following, and giving those he left behind a very peculiar smile, which he lengthened out in time and form, till he was right down the ladder, with the trap-door drawn over and resting upon his head. This he slowly lowered, till only his eyes and brow were seen, and he stayed like that watching for a minute, then let the lid close with a _flap_, and shut him, as it were, in a box.

"Gone!" said Jem. "Lor', how I should ha' liked to go and jump on that there trap just while he was holding it up with his head. I'd ha' made it ache for him worse than they made mine."

"Hist! Don't talk so loud," whispered Don. "He listens."

"I hope he's a-listening now," said Jem, loudly; "a lively smiling sort of a man. That's what he is, Mas' Don. Sort o' man always on the blue sneak." Don held up his hand.

"Think they suspect anything, Jem?" he whispered.

"Sometimes I do, and sometimes I don't, Mas' Don. That stoutish chap seemed to smell a rat, and that smiling door-knocker fellow was all on the spy; but I don't think he heared anything, and I'm sure he didn't see. Now, then, can you tell me whether they're coming back?"

Don shook his head, and they remained thinking and watching for nearly an hour before Jem declared that they must risk it.

"One minute," said Don; and he went on tip-toe as far as the trap-door, and lying down, listened and applied his eyes to various cracks, before feeling convinced that no one was listening.

"Why, you didn't try if it was fastened," cried Jem; and taking out his knife, he inserted it opposite to the hinges, and tried to lever up the door.

It was labour in vain, for the bolt had been shot.

"They don't mean to let us go, Mas' Don," said Jem. "Come on, and let's get the rope done."

They returned to the sacking, lifted it up, and taking out the unfinished rope, worked away rapidly, but with the action of sparrows feeding in a road--one peck and two looks out for danger.

Half-a-dozen times at least the work was hidden, some sound below suggesting danger, while over and over again, in spite of their efforts, the rope advanced so slowly, and the result was so poor, that Don felt in despair of its being done by the time they wanted it, and doubtful whether if done it would bear their weight.

He envied Jem's stolid patience and the brave way in which he worked, twisting, and knotting about every three feet, while every time their eyes met Jem gave him an encouraging nod.

Whether to be successful or not, the making of the rope did one thing-- it relieved them of a great deal of mental strain.

In fact, Don stared wonderingly at the skylight, as it seemed to him to have suddenly turned dark.

"Going to be a storm, Jem," he said. "Will the rain hurt the rope?"

"Storm, Mas' Don? Why, it's as clear as clear. Getting late, and us not done."

"But the rope must be long enough now."

"Think so, sir?"

"Yes; and if it is not, we can easily drop the rest of the way."

"What! And break our legs, or sprain our ankles, and be caught? No let's make it another yard or two."

"Hist! Quick!"

They were only just in time, for almost before they had thrown the old sacking over the rope, the bolt of the trap-door was thrust back, and the sinister-looking sailor entered with four more, to give a sharp look round the place, and then roughly seize the prisoners.

"Now, then!" cried Jem sharply, "what yer about? Arn't going to tie us up, are you?"

"Yes, if you cut up rough again," said the leader of the little party.

"Come on."

"Here, what yer going to do?" cried Jem.

"Do? You'll see. Not going to spoil your beauty, mate."

Don's heart sank low. All that hopeful labour over the rope thrown away! And he cast a despairing look at Jem.

"Never mind, my lad," whispered the latter. "More chances than one."

"Now then! No whispering. Come along!" shouted the sinister-looking man, fiercely. "Come on down. Bring 'em along."

Don cast another despairing look at Jem, and then marched slowly toward the opening in the floor.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

A DESPERATE ATTEMPT.

Just as the prisoners reached the trap-door a voice came from below.

"Hold hard there, my lads. Bosun Jones has been down to the others, and he says these here may stop where they are."

"What for?"

"Oh, one o' the four chaps we brought in last night's half wild, and been running amuck. Come on down."

"Yah!" growled the sinister sailor, scowling at Jem, as if there were some old enmity between them.

"I say, don't," said Jem mockingly. "You'll spoil your good looks.

Say, does he always look as handsome as that?"