The Northern Iron Part 33

A savage kick at the door shook it on its hinges.

"Bide quiet, now," said Hannah, "and tell me who ye are afore I open to you. Would you have me let robbers intil the house, and the master awa'?"

"We're men of the Killulta yeomanry, we're here to search the house by order of Captain Twinely. Open in the King's name."

"Why couldn't ye have tellt me that afore? There isn't a woman living has as much respect for the King as mysel'. Wait now, wait till I slip on my petticoat. You wouldna have a woman come to the door to you in her s.h.i.+ft, would ye?"

There was a long pause--too long for the yeomen outside. Another kick, and then another, shook the door. Hannah went over to it and began to fumble with the bolt.

"I'm afeard," she said, "that the lock's hampered."

"I'll soon cure that; stand clear of the keyhole till I fire."

"For the Lord's sake, man, dinna be shootin' aff your guns, I canna abide the sound o' the like. It dizzens me. Dinna be hasty, fair and easy goes far in the day. Who is it you said you were?"

"The yeomen, you deaf old hag."

"The yeomen, G.o.d bless us, the yeomen. That's the kind of lads that dresses themselves up braw in sojers' coats and then, when there's any fighting going on, let's the real sojers do it, and they stand and look round to see the gommerels admiring them. Faith I'll let you in. There's no call even for a hirplin ould woman with one foot in the grave and the ither out of it to be afeard of the likes of you."

Hannah Macaulay's description of her bodily condition erred on the side of self-depreciation. The one foot which remained out of the grave carried her across the kitchen floor with remarkable speed. She took the poker now red, almost white, hot at the end, darted back to the door, and flung it open. With a wild whoop she rushed at the two yeomen who stood on the threshold. There were other yells besides her's, a smell of burning cloth and singed flesh, a hurried treading of feet, and a clattering of the hoofs of frightened horses. Hannah sent into the night a peal of derisive laughter, and then turned into the house and shut the door.

"I said I'd sort them," she chuckled, "and I've sorted them rightly. Yin o' them will carry a mark on his mug to the day of his death, and lucky if he hasn't lost the sight of an eye. There'll be a hole in the breeks of the other that'll tak a quare width of cloth to make a patch for it. And, what's more, thon man'll no sit easy on his horse for a bit.

They'll not be for chasing Master Neal the night any way. But, faith, this house will be no place for me the morrow. I'll just tak my wee bit duds under my arm and away with me up to Dunseveric House. Miss Una'll take me in when she hears the tale I ha' to tell. I'd like to see the yeos or the sojers either that would fetch me out of the ould lord's kitchen. If they tak to ravis.h.i.+ng and rieving the master's plenis.h.i.+ns I canna help it. Better a ravished house nor a murdered woman."

Neal got out of the window, and once more crossed the meadow. He lay for a minute in the ditch beside the road listening intently. He feared that he might have been tracked home, that the house might be surrounded, and that escape might be difficult or impossible. But there was no sound of any sort on the road--neither voices of men, treading of horses, or jangling of accoutrements. Evidently the men at the door of the manse were no more than a patrol. They were entering the house out of wanton desire to annoy Hannah Macaulay or on the chance of discovering there something which might give them a clue--not because they actually suspected that he was within. He heard the crash of the first kick on the door, rose from the ditch, crossed the road, and took to the edge of the cliffs again. He walked quickly, frightened and shaken. He started into a breathless run when Hannah's battle whoop reached him on the still air. He heard distinctly the men's shrieks, and even the noise of the runaway horses galloping on the hard road. He went the faster--a mad terror driving him.

He pa.s.sed Port Moon again, crossed the majestic brow of Pleaskin Head, skirted the Causeway, and reached the Runkerry cliffs. He went more slowly, ceased running, sat down, drawing deep laboured breaths. The food he ate in the manse had strengthened him. The a.s.surance of the care and watchfulness of his friends cheered him, but his mind was like that of a hunted animal. He had no courage left, nothing but an overmastering desire to hide himself.

He rose, and went on again, reached the cliff above the Rock Pigeons'

Cave, and found the place where descent to the sea was possible. There was no path, just a precipitous gra.s.s slope, and then steep rocks, and below them the dark, moaning sea. A timid man might shrink from the climb in daylight, a bold man would be rash to attempt it at night, but of this short, slippery gra.s.s and these sharp rocks Neal had no fear at all. He knew them all too well to fear them. He let himself slide down, sure of the resting-place his feet would find. With firm hand-grips and confident steps he descended from rock to rock until he stood at last on a flat shelf, a foot or two above the sea. He saw the long channel, rock-bounded, narrow, dark, along which he and Maurice had piloted their boat. He saw beyond it the mouth of the cave--a s.p.a.ce of actual blackness on the gloomy face of the cliff. He heard the water drop from the roof into the sea with heavy splashes. At his feet the long swell writhed between the walls of rock, reached up black lips and drew them down again with hollow, sobbing sound. From the extreme darkness of the cave came the dull moaning of the ocean, as of some inarticulate monster bowed with everlasting woe. A swim through this cold, lonely water, between the smooth walls which rose higher and higher on either side, into the impenetrable gloom of the echoing cavern and on to the extreme end of it, was horrible to contemplate. But for Neal there were worse horrors behind. His cowardice made him brave. He stripped and stood s.h.i.+vering, though the night air was warm enough. He wrapped his clothes into a bundle and, with his neck scarf, bound them firmly on his head.

He slipped without a splash into the water and struck out towards the mouth of the cave.

The dull swell lifted him on its breast and drew him down again as if to wrap him with huge cold hands. An undertow of receding water pulled him to the rocks and he touched them with his hands. He reached the mouth of the cave, and felt the splash of the drops which fell from it. He moved very cautiously, fearing to strike suddenly on the sunken rocks. He felt for them with his feet, reached them, stood upright waist-deep. Then, with cold limbs and a numb terror in his heart, he plunged forward again into the deep water within the cave. He swam on, with set teeth, close-pressed lips, and eyes strained to see a foot in front of him into the blackness. Once he turned and looked back. Through the mouth of the cave he saw the dim grey of the June night--a framed s.p.a.ce of sky which was not actually black. He felt as if he were looking his last at the familiar world of living things--as if he were on his way to some gloomy other world of moaning, forlorn spirits, of desolate, disappointed loves, of weary, spent souls floating aimlessly on chill, unfathomable sorrow. He swam on, and heard at last the splash of the waves on the sh.o.r.e. His feet touched bottom. He slipped and slid among large slimy stones, worn incredibly smooth by their age-long was.h.i.+ng in this sunless place. He struggled forward breast-deep, waist-deep, knee-deep, in the black water. He reached dry ground, crawled upwards till he felt the boulders no longer damp, and knew that he lay above the reach of the tide. He unbound the bundle from his head, clothed himself, and felt the blood steal warm through his limbs again. He staggered further up, groped his way to the side of the cave, as if the touch of solid rock would give him some sense of companions.h.i.+p. Then, like a benediction from the G.o.d who watched over him, sleep came.

CHAPTER XVII

The next morning broke cloudless. As the day advanced the sun grew hot.

The land at noon seemed to gasp for breath. The sea lay glowing in the light; the waves broke in slow rhythm on the sand and rocks, as if the warmth had imposed even on the Atlantic a mood of luxurious laziness.

Una St. Clair and the Comtesse de Tourneville, attended by Hannah Macaulay, walked sh.o.r.ewards from Dunseveric House. It appeared that they were going to bathe, for they carried bundles of white sheets and coloured garments, large bundles well wrapped together and strapped.

Hannah Macaulay had, besides, a little raft made of the flat corks which fishermen use to mark the places where their lobster pots are sunk and to float the tops of salmon nets. It seemed as if one of the party were no great swimmer, and did not mean to venture into deep water without something to which to cling.

A hundred yards from the gate were two yeomen on horseback. The Comtesse greeted them cheerfully as she pa.s.sed. The men followed the ladies along the road.

"What are we to do?" said Una, "they mean to watch us."

"Perhaps not," said the Comtesse, "let us make sure."

She motioned Una to stop, and sat down on the bank on the roadside. The men halted and waited also. It became obvious that they intended to keep the ladies in view.

"This is abominable," said Una. "How dare they follow us when we are going to bathe?"

"My dear," said the Comtesse, laughing, "they very likely think that we are not going to bathe. So far as I am concerned, their suspicions are quite just. I am certainly not going to undress on a nasty rock which would cut my feet, and then go into cold salt water to have my toes nipped by crabs and lobsters. The worthy Hannah is not going to bathe either. She has too much good sense. Even these stupid yeomen must guess that we are carrying something else besides towels."

"But I am going to bathe," said Una, "and it is intolerable that I should be spied upon and watched."

The Comtesse rose and approached the men.

"Where is Captain Twinely this morning?" she asked, smiling.

"Here he is, coming along the road forninst you, Miss."

The man spoke civilly enough. It was natural to be civil to the Comtesse when she smiled. She had fine eyes, and was not too proud to use them in a very delightful manner even when the man before her was no more than a trooper in a company of yeomen.

"So he is!" she said. "And my good gentleman trooper, how nice your manners are. I am, alas! no longer 'Miss,' though it pleases you to flatter me. I am 'Madam,' a widow, quite an old woman."

She left him and hurried forward to greet Captain Twinely.

"I am charmed to meet you, Captain Twinely. But why have you never been up to call on us? We hear that you have been two whole days in our neighbourhood and not even once have you come to see us. How rude and unkind you are. I would not have believed it of you. But perhaps you have been very busy chasing the odious rebels and had no time to visit us poor ladies."

"I didn't think I was wanted at Dunseveric House, my lady," said the captain.

Like his trooper, he was aware that the Comtesse smiled at him, and that she had beautiful eyes.

"I will not take that as an excuse," she said. "Surely you must know, Captain Twinely, that we are two lonely women, that my lord and my nephew are away. You must have guessed that we should suffer, ah, so terribly, from 'ennui'. Is it not the first duty of an officer to pay his respects to the ladies and to amuse them, especially in this terrible country where it is only the military men who have any manners at all?"

Captain Twinely was delighted and embarra.s.sed. He wished that he had brushed his uniform more carefully in the morning, and that he had not been too lazy to shave. He would gladly have been looking his best now that the eyes of this elegant lady of t.i.tle and fas.h.i.+on were on him.

"I am at your ladys.h.i.+p's service," he murmured.

"Now that is really kind of you. Please get down from your horse. How can I talk to you when you are so high above me?"

The captain dismounted and gave his horse to one of the troopers. The Comtesse laid her hand on his arm and smiled at him.

"We have a little _fete_ planned for to-day," she said. "We are going to have a pic-nic by the sea. Will you not join us. It will be so kind of you. My niece wishes also to bathe. But I--I am not very anxious to go into the sea. Perhaps you and I might wait for her in some pleasant spot and prepare the pic-nic while she and her maid go to the bathing-place.

What do you say, captain?"

"I shall be delighted," he said, "quite delighted."

Captain Twinely had never before been so smiled on by a pretty woman. Never before had such fine eyes looked into his with such an unmistakable challenge to flirtation. He was almost certain that he felt the Comtesse's hand press his arm slightly. He grew pink in the face with pleasure.

"We must tell my niece."

She leaned towards Captain Twinely and whispered in his ear. Her breath touched his cheek. The delicate, faint scent of her clothes reached him.