In the King's Name Part 12

For a few minutes a horrible sensation of dread troubled him, and he uttered a hoa.r.s.e cry; but, making a struggle to master his fear, he grew more calm, and though he was exceedingly hot and the effort was painful, he found he could breathe, and after a final effort to relieve himself of his bonds he lay still, patiently waiting for his release.

The road seemed to grow rougher and rougher, and he felt that he must be going along some out-of-the-way by-lane, full of tremendous ruts, for sometimes one wheel would be down low, sometimes the other; and every now and then the cart seemed to stick fast, and then followed the sound of blows.

Whenever there came this sound of blows the cart began to echo back the noise with a series of tremendous kicks; for it soon became evident that this was no patient, long-suffering donkey, but one with a spirit of its own, and ready to resist.

On again, and then another stick-fast.

Whack! whack! whack! went a stick, and clatter, clatter came the donkey's heels against the front of the cart, in such close proximity to Hilary's head that he began to be alarmed for the safety of his skull, and after a good dead of wriggling he managed to screw himself so far round that when the next a.s.sault took place with the stick and battering with the donkey's heels the front boards of the cart only jarred against Hilary's arm.

Another term of progress, during which the road seemed better, and they appeared to get along some distance before there was another jerk up and another jerk down, and then a series of jumps as if they were going downhill; and then the cart gave a big b.u.mp and stuck fast.

The driver shouted and banged the donkey, and the donkey brayed and battered the front of the cart, and once more, in spite of his pain and discomfort, Hilary lay under the straw and laughed as he pictured accurately enough the scene that was taking place in that narrow lane.

For he was in a rutty, little-used track, in a roughly-made, springless cart, drawn by a big, ragged, powerful jacka.s.s, which every time the cart stuck, and his driver used the light ash stick he carried, laid down his ears, bared his teeth, and kicked at the front of the cart, which was rough with indentations and splinters, the result of the prowess of the donkey's heels.

On again--stop again--jolt here--jolt there--more blows and kicking, and Hilary still lying there half stifled beneath the straw; but his youth and abundant vitality kept him up, so that he lay listening to the battles between the donkey and his driver; then he thought of his men, and wondered whether they had made a good search for him; then he began to think of the lieutenant, and wondered what he would say when the men went back and reported his absence; lastly, he began to wonder whether Mr Lips...o...b.. would come with the _Kestrel_ and try to find him.

"Not much good to come with the cutter," he thought as drew a long breath; "he would want a troop of light horse if I'm being taken inland, as it seems to me I am."

Then he began to wonder what would be done with him, whether Sir Henry Norland knew of his capture. Perhaps it was by Sir Henry's orders.

"Well, if it is," he said, half aloud, "if he don't behave well to me he is no gentleman."

He began musing next about Adela, and thought of how she had altered since the old days when Sir Henry was a quiet country gentleman, and had not begun to mix himself up with the political questions of the day.

"Oh!" said Hilary at last, "this is horribly tiresome and very disgusting. I don't know that I should have much minded being made prisoner by a French s.h.i.+p, and then sent ash.o.r.e, so long as they treated me well; but to be kidnapped like this by a beggarly set of smugglers is too bad."

"Well," he thought, "I don't see that I shall be very much better off if I make myself miserable about my condition. I can't escape just at present; they are evidently not going to kill me. That's not likely.

Why should they? So I shall just make the best of things, and old Lips...o...b.. must grumble as long as he likes."

Phew! It was very hot, and he was very weary. The kicking of the donkey and the sound of the blows had ceased to amuse him. He was so sore with the jolting that he told himself he could not get any worse.

And still the cart went on, jolt, jolt, till a curious sensation of drowsiness came over him, and before he was aware that such a change was approaching he dropped off fast asleep, to make up for the wakefulness and excitement of the past night, the long and arduous walk of that morning, and the exhaustion produced by the jolting and shaking to which he had been subjected at intervals for the past two hours. During that time he had striven very hard to guess in which direction he was being taken, and wished he had known a little more of the locality inland, his geographical knowledge being confined to the points, bays, cliffs, villages, churches, and ports along the coast.

It was no slow dozing off and re-awaking--no softly pa.s.sing through a pleasant dreamy state into a light sleep, for Nature seemed to say, with stern decision, that his body and mind had borne as great a strain as was good for either; and one moment he was awake, feeling rather drowsy; the next he was gone--plunged deep down in one of those heavy, dreamless sleeps in which hours pa.s.s away like moments, and the awakened sleeper wonders at the lapse of time.

Nature is very kind to her children, whether they are old or young; and during those restful times she builds up what the learned folks call tissue, and strengthens mind and muscle, fitting the said children for the wear and tear that is to go on again the next day, and the next.

Hilary awoke with a start, and so deep had been his sleep that it was some little time before he could recall what had taken place.

At first he thought he was in his berth on board the _Kestrel_, for it was intensely dark, but on stretching out his hands he could touch nothing, so it could not be there, where his elbows struck the side, and not many inches above his head there was the top.

No, it could not be there. Where was he then?

Asleep and dreaming, he believed the next minute; and then all came back with a leap--his capture, the swing off the cliff, the straw in the donkey-cart, and that was where he was now, only the donkey was standing still, for there was no jolting, and it had ceased to kick the front board of the cart.

He had either been asleep or insensible, he knew, and--

"Hullo! they've untied my arms," he exclaimed; "and it isn't so hot as it was. They must have taken off the cloak."

Yes; the cloak was gone and his arms were free. So were his legs.

No; his legs were securely tied, but the straw over his head had been taken away.

He lay perfectly still for a few minutes, thinking, and with his eyes trying in all directions to pierce the thick black darkness by which he was surrounded, but without avail.

"I wonder where I am," he thought, as, after forcing his mind to obey his will, he went over in review all the adventures that had befallen him from the time he left the s.h.i.+p till he was jolting along in that donkey-cart, half-suffocated in the boat-cloak and straw.

Then there came a dead stoppage. He could get no farther. He knew he must have gone to sleep, and the probabilities were that the cart had been backed into some shed, the donkey taken out, and he had been left to finish his sleep.

"I wish I knew what time it was," thought Hilary. "How dark it is, to be sure. I wonder where the donkey is; and--hullo! where are the sides of the cart?"

He felt about, but could touch only straw; and on stretching his hands out farther, it was with no better result.

He listened.

Not a sound.

Strained his eyes.

All was blacker than the blackest night.

What should he do? Get up? Crawl about? Shout?

He could not answer his own questions; and as he lay there wondering what would be best, that strange feeling of confusion that oppresses the strongest of us in the dark when we are ignorant of where we are, came upon him, and he lay there at last with the perspiration gathering in big drops upon his brow.

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

AN UNPLEASANT AWAKENING.

Did you ever suffer from that unpleasant bodily disorder--sleep-walking?

Did you ever wake up and find yourself standing undressed in the cold-- somewhere--you can't tell where, only that you are out of bed and on the floor? You are confused--puzzled--and you want to know what is the matter. You know you ought to be in bed, or rather you have a vague kind of belief that you ought to be in bed, and you want to be back there, but the question directly arises--where is the bed? and for the life of you you cannot tell. You hold out your hands, and they touch nothing. You try in another direction--another, and another, with the same result, and, at last with one hand outstretched to the full extent, you gradually edge along sidewise till you touch something--wall, wardrobe, door, and somehow it feels so strange that you seem never to have touched it before; perhaps you never have, for in daylight one does not go about one's room touching doors and walls.

Of course the result is that you find your bed at last, and that it is close to you, for you stretched your hands right over it again and again; but all the same it is a very singular experience, and the accompanying confusion most peculiar, and those who have ever had such an awakening can the better understand Hilary Leigh's feelings as he lay there longing for the light.

"Well," he exclaimed at last, after vainly endeavouring to pierce the darkness, and to touch something else but straw and the stones upon which it had been heaped, "if any one had told me that I should be such a coward on waking up and finding myself in the dark, I should have hit him, I'm sure I should. But it is unpleasant all the same. Oh, I say, how my legs ache!"

This took his attention from his position, and he sat up and then drew up his legs.

"Well, I must be stupid and confused," he muttered impatiently. "Why do I sit here and let my legs ache with this rope tied round them when I might take it off?"

This was better still; it gave him something to do; and he at once attacked the tight knots, which proved so hard that he pulled out his pocket-knife, which had not been taken away. But the rope might be useful for escape! So he closed his knife, and with all a sailor's deftness of fingers attacked the knots so successfully that he at last set his legs free, and, coiling up the rope, tucked it beneath the straw.

"Murder!" he muttered, drawing in his breath; for now that his legs were freed they seemed to ache and smart most terribly. They throbbed, and burned, and stung, till he had been rubbing at them for a good half-hour, after which the circulation seemed to be restored to its proper force, and he felt better; but even then, when he tried to stand up they would hardly support his weight, and he was glad to sit down once more and think.

The darkness was terrible now that he had no longer to make any effort, and the silence was worse. He might have been buried alive, so solemn and still did all seem.

But Hilary soon shook off any weak dread that tried to oppress him, and rising at last he found that he could walk with less pain, and cautiously leaving the heap of straw upon which he had been lying, he began to explore.