Dick Cheveley Part 7

"I don't see what that has to do with my being in a hurry to get home,"

I replied.

"Maybe not; but we want to know where you were lying hid just before you took to running," said the other man.

"I was not lying hid anywhere," I answered. "I was going along from paying a visit to Roger Riddle, after seeing his son Mark, who was caught by the Squire's keepers, and accused of poaching, when being tired I sat down to rest and fell asleep."

"Whereabouts were you sleeping?" asked the smuggler.

"On the ground," I answered.

"So I suppose," said the man, with a laugh. "But whereabouts on the ground?"

"Not far from the old barn, to the best of my recollection; but it was too dark when I started to make out where I had been."

This answer seemed to satisfy my interrogator. I was afraid that he would inquire every moment whether I had heard the conversation going on within the building.

"Well, my lad," he said, "take care you don't shove your nose into places where you're not wanted. If you're a friend of old Riddle's, I don't suppose you'll have any ill-feeling against the smugglers. So now, good-night. You would have saved us a long run if you hadn't been in such a hurry to get home."

Thankful to escape so easily, I told the men I was sorry to have given them so much trouble. They accompanied me to a gate not far off, over which I climbed into the lane. I then, as fast as my sprained ankle would let me, made the best of my way home. I found that my family had been somewhat alarmed at my non-appearance. My father, who always took matters coolly, accepted my excuses, but Aunt Deb scolded me roundly for having played truant.

"What business had you to go to trouble Sir Reginald about that young scapegrace Riddle?" she asked, in her usual stern manner. "He'll consider that you and your friend are alike. He'll not be far wrong either. You have lost all chance, if you ever had one, of interesting Sir Reginald in your favour. You may as well give up all hope at once of being a mids.h.i.+pman. Now I suppose you want some supper, though you don't deserve it. You're always giving trouble to Betsy in coming home at irregular hours."

"Thank you," I said, "I'm not so very hungry. I'll go into the kitchen and get some bread and cheese; that is all I want before I go to bed."

So thus I made my escape. I had no opportunity that night of informing my father of what I had heard, but when we went to our room I gave Ned an account of my adventures.

"I would advise you, d.i.c.k, not to interfere in the matter," said Ned.

"It's all very well for our father to preach against smuggling; the smugglers themselves don't mind it a bit; but were he to take any active measures they would very likely burn the house down, or play us some other trick which would not be pleasant."

Notwithstanding what Ned said, I determined to inform Sir Reginald of what I had heard, still hoping that by so doing I should gain his favour.

CHAPTER SIX.

I revisit the baronet--My information and its worth--Am somewhat taken aback at my reception--Well out of it--Mark's escape--Old Riddle's grat.i.tude--A night of adventure--The run--Night attack on Kidbrooke Farm--The fire--My curiosity overcomes my prudence--The struggle on the beach--The luck of the "Saucy Bess," and ill-luck of Mark--I am again captured by the smugglers--Buried in a chest--My struggle for freedom, and its result--A vault in the old mill--My explorations in the vault.

The next morning I found my father in his study before breakfast. I told him of my having overheard the smugglers arranging the plans for running a cargo shortly, and asked him whether he wished me to let Sir Reginald know.

"You are in duty bound to do so," he answered. "At the same time you must take care it is not known that you gave the information. He'll certainly be pleased, and will be more inclined than before to a.s.sist you. You had better set off directly breakfast is over, and I will write a note for you to deliver, which will be an excuse for your appearance at the Hall. Do not say anything about the matter to any one else, as things that we fancy are known only to ourselves are apt to get abroad."

I followed my father's advice, and said nothing during breakfast. As soon as it was over I set out. Aunt Deb saw me, and shouted out, asking me where I was going; but pretending not to hear her, I ran on. I suspect I made her very irate. I noted the people I met on my way, and among others I encountered Ned Burden. He looked hard at me, but said nothing beyond returning my "Good morning, Mr Burden," with "Good morning, Master d.i.c.k," and I pa.s.sed on. I looked back shortly afterwards for a moment, and saw that he had stopped, and was apparently watching me. As soon as I reached the Hall I gave my father's note to a servant, saying that I was waiting to see Sir Reginald. In a short time the man came back and asked me to follow him into the study.

"Well, Master Richard Cheveley," remarked the baronet, without inviting me to sit down, "I wonder you have the face to show yourself here after what has occurred."

"What have I done, sir?" I asked with astonishment.

"Connived or a.s.sisted at the escape of the poachers I had shut up in my strong room yesterday evening, waiting the arrival of the constables to convey them to prison."

"I beg your pardon, Sir Reginald. You must be under a mistake," I exclaimed. "I have in no way a.s.sisted any poachers to escape. I merely yesterday, with your permission, visited the boy Mark Riddle. He had been captured with two persons much older than himself, and he was, I believe, led astray by them."

"You, or somebody else, left them some tools--a file and a small saw-- with which they managed to cut away a bar in the strong room and effect their escape. Here are the instruments, which they must have dropped as they were getting off. Do you recognise them?"

As Sir Reginald was speaking I recollected giving the knife and file and saw to Mark, that he might amuse himself by cutting out some blocks.

When I saw them I at once acknowledged them as mine, telling the baronet my object in giving them to Mark.

"It was thoughtless, to say the least of it, and a very suspicious circ.u.mstance, young gentleman," remarked Sir Reginald.

"Have they not been retaken?" I inquired, anxious to know what had become of my friend Mark.

"No, there is but little chance of that," he answered, in a tone of vexation. "Now, let me know what you have come about. Your father gives no reason for your visit."

Without claiming any merit, I at once gave a clear account of all I had heard on the previous evening. Sir Reginald appeared much interested, and his manner became more friendly than at first.

"I am ready to believe that you had no intention to a.s.sist young Riddle to escape," he said at last, after taking notes of all I told him. "Now return home, and keep your own counsel."

I confess that I was secretly very glad Mark had made his escape. I hoped that he would return to his father, and keep in hiding till the affair had blown over, and also give up poaching for the future. I wanted as soon as possible to go and see the old sailor, and learn what had become of Mark, but I knew that my father would be expecting me; and accordingly, after leaving the Hall, went directly home. My father complimented me more than I deserved on the way I had conducted the matter. I didn't tell him just then of my having unintentionally a.s.sisted Mark and the other poachers to make their escape.

"If the smugglers and their cargo are taken, you will deservedly have the credit of the affair, and Sir Reginald will, I hope, feel bound to a.s.sist you as you desire," he observed.

I had to wait till the next day to go over and see old Roger. I almost expected to find that Mark had returned home, and was concealed in the house; but none of his family knew anything about him, except that he had escaped from Sir Reginald's strong room. They all thanked me warmly for the a.s.sistance I had given him, and of which they had heard by some means or other. They would not believe that I had had no intention, when I lent him my knife and other things, of helping him to get out. I took care to return home at an early hour, as I had no wish to encounter Ned Burden or the other men on the way. I waited somewhat impatiently for the result of the information I had given. I was very sure the baronet would take the necessary steps for capturing the smugglers. The weather, which had for a long time been fine, now completely changed. A strong westerly gale sprung up, the sky was clouded over, and as there was no moon the nights were very dark. The evening on which I had heard the smugglers propose to run the cargo arrived. I should have been wise to have gone to bed at the regular hour, as if I had had nothing to do in the matter. Instead of that, as soon as Ned was asleep I slipped on my clothes and went out by the back door, which I carefully closed behind me. As soon as I got clear of the village, and could see to a distance, I turned my eyes towards Kidbrooke Farm, which the smugglers had planned to attack in order to draw off the coastguard-men from the spot where the cargo was to be run. In a few minutes I observed a bright light burst forth from the surrounding darkness, and rapidly increase until it a.s.sumed the appearance of a huge bonfire. I then knew that the outlaws had carried out the first part of their plan, as I concluded they would the second. It seemed to me that the whole farm and all the stacks would speedily be in a blaze. Eager to see the fire, I ran towards the farm. On getting nearer, the hum of human voices showed me that a number of people had a.s.sembled, some of whom were engaged in throwing water over the stacks, others in pulling down the burning one. As I got up to them, I found that they were mostly labourers from Leighton, together with those belonging to the farm, with a few of the villagers from Sandgate. There were, I remarked, none of the revenue-men present, by which I concluded that they had not been drawn away from the coast, as the smugglers expected they would be.

Precautions having been taken in time, and there being plenty of hands to extinguish the flames, the fire didn't communicate to the other ricks; and, as far as I could see, even a portion of the first was saved.

It would have been better for me had I returned home and gone to bed again; but I was curious to know if the "Saucy Bess" had succeeded in running her cargo, or whether Sir Reginald had acted on the information I had given him, and had sent the coastguard-men to watch for the smugglers and capture them. Without stopping, therefore, in the neighbourhood of the burning rick, I hurried away towards the spot at which I had heard Ned Burden and his companions propose to run the cargo. I must have been running on for twenty minutes or so when I heard a pistol-shot fired; it was succeeded by two or three others.

This made me more than ever eager to ascertain what was going forward.

I doubled my speed. The path was tolerably good, and I knew the way.

All the time I had not met a single person. After some time I heard more shouts, sounding much nearer, and cries mingled with the clas.h.i.+ng of cutla.s.ses, so it seemed to me. I had no doubt that the coastguard-men and the smugglers were having a desperate fight, the latter endeavouring to defend their property, and the former to capture it. Which would succeed in their object seemed doubtful. I pictured the whole scene, though as yet I could see nothing. This I was eager to do, forgetting that bullets flying about were no respecters of persons.

At last I reached the top of a cliff overlooking the bay, whence I could see a lugger, which I guessed to be the "Saucy Bess," with her sails loose, a short distance from the sh.o.r.e, and two or three boats near her; while on the sands were a number of men, who from their movements, and the babel of tongues arising from the spot, were evidently struggling.

That the revenue-men had the best of it, I had no doubt. It appeared to me that they had captured part of the cargo, and some of the smugglers, and that others were endeavouring to rescue their comrades. That this was the case I had little doubt, when I saw the lugger's head turned seawards, and presently she disappeared in the gloom of night I was now satisfied that Sir Reginald had acted on the information I had given him, and that he would find it had been correct. I was at last about to return home, when, just as I reached a lane leading from the cliffs, I heard footsteps close to me, and, turning round, saw three men approaching. Whoever they were I thought it better to keep out of their way, and began to run. But they must have seen me, and at once made chase. I could easily have kept ahead, but unfortunately stepping into a deep rut, I stumbled, and before I got under weigh again the men were upon me.

"Where are you bound for, youngster?" cried one of them, whom I recognised by the voice to be Ned Burden.

"I came to see what was going forward," I answered.

"Not the first time you have done that, young gentleman," said one, in an angry voice. "We know who you are. Somebody gave information about the run which was to be made to-night, and putting two or three things together no one will doubt that it was you. Shall we heave him over the cliffs, or what shall we do with him, mates?"

"Let us take him along with us, at all events," said one of the other men. "If he has spoiled our plans to-night, he deserves to be knocked on the head."

"Spoilt our plans indeed he has," said Burden; and he presently detailed to his companions how he had caught me listening at the old barn, and how, not supposing that I had heard anything of importance, he had let me go.

I could not deny this, and I saw that it would be useless to attempt to defend myself. My captors, without more ado, proceeded to tie my arms behind my back, and to bind a handkerchief over my eyes.

"Remember, youngster," said Burden, "if you shout out or utter a word we'll send a bullet through your head."

From the fierce way in which he spoke I thought he was very likely to do this. I did not tell him that I knew who he was, as I was sure that this would only make matters worse for me. I did not, however, believe that they really meant to kill me; but what they would do was more than I could guess. Two of them taking me one by each arm led me along the road, without wasting another word on me. They walked very fast indeed.

Had they not supported me I should have fallen several times. Every moment I thought they would stop. I tried to ascertain in what direction they were leading me, but very soon lost all means of doing so. At length they made me sit down on what I supposed was a bank. I tried to judge from what quarter the wind was blowing, but the spot was sheltered, and sometimes it blew on one cheek and sometimes on the other. I could hear the roar of the waves, by which I knew that I could be at no great distance from the sh.o.r.e. While one of them held me tightly by the arm, the others withdrew to a distance to consult as to how they should proceed. After a time they came back, and we continued our march at the same rate as before. On and on we went. I was getting very tired, and would gladly have again sat down. When I complained, the men laughed at me.

"You'll soon have time enough to rest yourself, youngster," said one of them. "You may consider yourself fortunate that things are no worse with you."