Their puzzled thoughts found expression. "Why did they lower the masts, Ben? You heard the order. It's strange for a boat this size to have masts that can be lowered at will, isn't it?"
"Aye. And why wait for low water, when low water means there'll only be a few inches under her keel?"
"It's as if they had to go under something...."
"Mr. Dare!" exclaimed Ben, "you've hit on the very thing. They're goin' under somethin'; somethin' that's not very high and therefore has to be gone under at the lowest tide possible!"
There seemed indeed reason to believe that Dare had discovered the solution of the puzzle.
"But under what?" asked Dare.
"Aye, that's the question. I can't begin to think of what. It passes belief or understandin' when you thinks of the coast we're on."
The roar of the breakers suddenly increased. At the same moment there came a decided bump of the vessel's keel as it touched bottom. For a wild moment Dare and Ben thought the ship lost and visualized themselves being drowned like rats in a trap. Then the ship floated tranquilly again....
And then, with only the previous roar of the breakers for warning, there broke upon their ears a perfect pandemonium of sound. Even in their retreat they had to raise their voices to be heard above it. It was as if immense copper gongs were being beaten with giant hammers of steel.
It took Dare and Ben several minutes to recover their equanimity.
Then Ben burst into excited speech.
"We're in a cave!" he shouted. "We're in a cave! That's the sea breakin', that sound we hears. Of all things! Would you believe it!"
Dare willingly believed it. There was no other adequate explanation. The cave would act as an enormous sound-box with super-acoustic properties, and the waves breaking against its rocky walls would echo in its vaulted roof until the sound emanating from them would be increased a thousandfold, developing into the din of an inferno. But a cave large enough to harbour a schooner of sixty tons! It did not seem feasible. If it existed it would surely be too well known to make a safe base for the smugglers. Yet——
"I believe you're right, Ben," said Dare, "but I can't conceive a cave like that."
"Aye, it must be a big one. An' to think we passed close to this coast and didn't see it! Hallo!" he added, "they're takin' off the hatches. And listen, you can hear shoutin'."
It seemed that with the entering of the secret harbour all caution was thrown aside, so sure were the smugglers of the safety of their retreat. There were shouts from many throats echoing in the vault in which the ship lay, sounding above the terrific clamour as the shrill cries of the seagulls sound above a great storm. Accompanying the shouts were the creak of tackle and the noise of the cargo being dumped on deck. There was great activity in the hold, separated from them by a single stout partition, and voices speaking French and English reached their ears.
There seemed to be a score of men; certainly many more than the ship carried as crew. Dare and Ben's curiosity grew almost beyond bounds. They would have given anything to be on deck, witnessing what was going on. If they remained imprisoned while the ship was in the cave they would be no wiser as to its position on the coast than before they entered it.
Ben threw his bulk against the locked door once or twice, more as a result of impatience than in the belief that he could force an exit through it. Then he desisted.
They sat for some time, half an hour or so, listening to the feverish activity centring about the ship. Then, so unexpectedly as to startle them, there came the sound of the key being turned in the lock. The door opened and Pierre once more stood before them. Neither Ben nor Dare moved. Pierre entered the room, closed the door, and placed his back against it, smiling sardonically the while.
"High-handed actions, cap'n," said Ben at last.
"It was necessary," returned Pierre frankly. "I couldn't have you coming on deck at the moment of making harbour. I'm on private business, you understand; that's why I've been puzzled what to do with you. Now I've made up my mind. You'll have to come back to St. Pierre with me."
"It's as you say, cap'n," Ben agreed, hardly able to hide his relief and satisfaction. "We're seemin'ly at your mercy. I reckon you'll pay for the boat?"
"I'll pay as I promised," said Pierre; "seventy-five dollars. You'll get it when I put you ashore, and I'll expect you to keep your mouth shut in the bargain."
"You can count on that, cap'n. I'm no tale-bearer. Sure, you could land your liquor and tobaccy in broad daylight as far as I'm concerned."
Pierre did not look so startled as this revelation of Ben's knowledge of his business would have caused one to expect. He seemed to think temporizing necessary, however.
"Liquor and tobacco!" he said. "What are you talking about?"
The pretence was vain.
"Sure, cap'n, I can smell both a mile away, and this boat stinks of them," declared Ben boldly.
There certainly was a distinct odour of both in the cabin. The fact had to be recognized, though not explained, as far as Pierre was concerned, even if indirectly he acknowledged its existence.
"Well, what about it?"
"Nothin'," said Ben. "We knows what we knows. I've done the same on a smaller scale in me time."
Pierre said nothing for a moment or two, but eyed them thoughtfully, as though once more in doubt as to the best way to handle the situation.
"This makes a difference," he said at last; "but I've no time to talk to you now. There's work for me on deck."
Then, with the same swift movements which had characterized his entrance, he let himself out of the room, once more locking the door behind him.
"Now you've gone and done it!" declared Dare ruefully.
"How so?" asked Ben.
"Why, do you think he's going to be as easy with us now that we've as good as told him we know he's a smuggler?"
"Why not? He must have known we guessed there was something funny in the wind or he wouldn't have asked us to keep our mouths shut."
"Nevertheless, I don't see why you wanted to make him certain we knew."
"I thought it best to be open," explained Ben. "If we'd pretended we didn't smell somethin' fishy he might have suspected we wasn't on the square with him. Never a fear, we won't lose by that. One thing, he'll be open with us now."
Dare looked dubious and paced up and down the confined space at their disposal. He eyed their quarters moodily, his gaze wandering from the bed to the charts on the walls, the bare floor, and the one chair and desk. On top of the desk was an assortment of small articles, a few screws, a pair of compasses, a file, a tin of tobacco, a pocket knife, and a key. The latter caught Dare's attention and a surmise rose to his mind. He took the key, regarded it for an instant; then, going to the door, thrust it in the lock. He turned it. It functioned, and the door came open under his grasp.
When this happened Ben, who had been regarding Dare's movements curiously, rose to his feet with an exclamation. Dare turned to him with suppressed eagerness.
"It's open!" he said.
"Aye."
They both stared at the open door thoughtfully, then Ben resumed his sitting posture on the bed.
"You'd better shut it again," he advised.
"Why?"
"What good'll it do us? If we went on deck Pierre would be as mad as blazes and we'd spoil what we've done. Even if we could get away, we don't want to go yet awhile. Not until we knows where this here cave is."
"We could get a look at it now, if we went on deck."
"Too risky. You don't want Pierre to catch you spyin'."
Dare was not to be dissuaded, however. He was fired at the thought of catching a glimpse of the secret harbour and the activity on deck.
"I'm going, anyhow," he said, and after ascertaining that the cabin was empty he slipped out of the room, taking care to shut the door firmly behind him. He stood still in the middle of the cabin for a full minute, then cautiously mounted the ladder leading to the deck. He was facing the taffrail as his head emerged. There was no one in that part of the ship. He summoned sufficient nerve to raise his head high enough above the shutter to view the whole of the scene about him.
The ship, as Ben had surmised, was in a cave. An immense cave it was, vaulted like a cathedral. Huge splinters of rock hung like icicles from its roof, and its walls gleamed black as ebony in the light of immense flares which dotted the ship's deck and rose in tiers high up into the cave, illuminating what Dare guessed to be a rocky stair leading either to the cliff-top or to some inner chamber. Yet so intense was the blackness within the cave that the flares only lit up their immediate vicinity, and deepened the intensity of the darkness outside their bright circles.
There was grandeur in the scene, a grandeur heightened by the great volume of sound which echoed through the cave like the emanations of a gigantic pipe organ with all stops pulled full out. The noise had been immense even when heard in the seclusion of the cabin, but here on deck it was deafening.
The mind rocked under its assault and in Dare it caused a confusion which made the scene partake of the quality of a nightmare. The flitting figures of the crew, each carrying a case and sometimes two on his shoulders, had an air of unreality. Their activities seemed fantastic and their movements queerly mechanical. The cave seemed to hold itself aloof from the use to which it was being put, gloomily voicing continual rumblings which might be interpreted as threats to the invaders, but which served the smugglers as a perfect cloak for their illicit work.
So far as Dare could see there was no beach here. The water ran deep right to the cave's limits, and the ship was lying close against the rock, her side protected by immense rope fenders.
The crew were carrying the cargo up a sloping, winding staircase whose top was lost sight of in the gloom, a narrow, treacherous staircase which it seemed that only goats could safely tread, but which the smugglers mounted with facility.
Dare searched in vain for the entrance to the cave. It was hidden in the gloom, but from the shape of the immense vaulted roof he could imagine it as being little more than a hole in the face of the cliff; a cliff solid in appearance, but hollowed out by some freak of nature.
No wonder the smugglers considered their base as being perfect for their purpose. It was all that Dare had ever conceived a smugglers' cave could be, and more. It was like no smugglers' cave he had ever seen or read of. He was a little awed by it, so strong an impression did its grandeur make on his sensibility.
He crouched in the companion-way, lost to the danger of detection, his whole mind given up to consideration and appreciation of the scene around him. The crew, fortunately, were too occupied to notice so small an object as his head rising above the cabin shutter, even if they had been able to see it in the shadows cast by the rigging.
He remained there, safe from disturbance or discovery, until the sudden emergence of the men from the hold caused him to think that the cargo had been discharged. He caught sight of Pierre and some of the crew making their way aft, and swiftly, with a minimum of noise, he returned to the cabin and Ben's company.
Half an hour later the ship began to get under way. She made her exit from the cave without accident of any kind, though her sides scraped the rock in passing.
Dare and Ben sat waiting to be set free, or at least to receive some kind of notice from Pierre. But the ship had been at sea an hour before they were given attention. When they were far enough away from the cave to prevent their discovering even by hazardous guessing where it was situated, one of the crew unlocked the door and summoned them to appear before Pierre, who was waiting for them in the cabin.
Pierre did not waste any time in discussion, but went straight to the point in no uncertain way.
"You two know the smuggling game, eh?" he demanded.
"Well, cap'n—" Ben began to quibble.
"Say yes or no, hang you!" interrupted Pierre.
"Well then, it's yes."
"I thought as much. You know the business we're running, it seems. Now look here, I've got a proposition to make to you. I'm going to run two more cargoes in the next ten days or so. I'm two men short. I'll ship you two and pay you three times ordinary wages and a bonus for the two trips."
Ben and Dare were both so amazed at this unexpected turn in the situation that they could only stand and stupidly regard their gaoler.
"Well?" demanded Pierre impatiently; "say something, can't you!"
"We hardly knows what to say, cap'n," said Ben, recovering a little from his surprise. "It's kind of sudden."
"Of course it's sudden. But it needn't take you aback like that. Well, what about it? What's it to be?"
Ben looked at Dare uncertainly, while Dare stared at him. They were both puzzled as to what were Pierre's intentions. Those intentions should have been fairly obvious. Pierre wanted to keep them under his personal supervision until he had finished running the big cargoes which were to herald a temporary cessation in the trade. The easiest way of doing that was to keep them on board voluntarily. But he was quite capable of keeping them on board against their will if they did not consent to accept the offer he made them.
So confused were Ben and Dare at the sudden proposition that they did not think of this obvious reason for it. They were hopelessly puzzled as to Pierre's designs, and could only consider if it would be to their advantage to pledge themselves to stay on board. If they did they stood a chance of finding out where the cave and the cache it led to were situated. But they might not get an opportunity to utilize their knowledge until the cargoes were run, and thus the opportunity of taking Pierre and his crew red-handed would be lost, at least for some time.
On the other hand, if they refused the offer and went back to Saltern with such knowledge as they had, they might, by a close inspection of the coast from Saltern to Point Day, make the discovery of the cave's whereabouts in a few days and then be free to plan the coup that would end in the smugglers' capture.
It was true the coast had been searched many times already without result, but with their special knowledge the task would be much more likely to yield success.
Those thoughts passed swiftly through their minds as Pierre sat impatiently waiting for their decision. Dare was inclined to stay on board, as that would be likely to yield the greatest amount of excitement, but Ben, with an eye to the main chance, was governed by his cautious instincts, and as it was he who was in charge he voiced their decision.
"If it's all the same to you, cap'n, we're much obleeged, but we'd like to leave at St. Pierre."
The captain's face clouded.
"Think again," he warned them harshly. "I'd advise you to accept my offer and save trouble. I'm giving you your chance."
A chance he was giving them certainly, but not much choice, for his manner dictated their final decision. Ben opened his eyes a little at the veiled threat, and began to understand a little better Pierre's intentions and the reason for them. This caused him to reverse his former decision without hesitation, for although Pierre as yet had not dealt in extremes, Ben felt him capable of doing so if thwarted.
"Of course, cap'n," he said cringingly, "of course, if it's a favour to yourself and if you're wishin' it strongly, we'll sign on and be glad of the chance."
"I'm doing more than wishing it. I'm telling you to do it."
"Well then, cap'n, we will."
"You're wise," said Pierre with that sardonic note in his voice that he could call up so easily; but he looked a little pleased none the less. The decision saved time and trouble.
"Then that's all right," he added. "You'll be a lot better off in pocket and perhaps in other ways. Now you can go for'ard and turn in with the rest of the crew. The mate will show you there. But no talking to the crew, you understand."
"Aye," said Ben, and Dare nodded in agreement.
Pierre then called down the mate, a rough, hard-looking case who regarded the new recruits in no over-friendly manner. His name was Hines, and he acknowledged their existence with a baleful glare. He respectfully inclined his head toward Pierre, however, while the latter explained Dare and Ben's new status on board. Evidently Pierre was held in something like awe by his subordinates. Hines, having taken his orders, turned to leave the cabin. "Now then, you two!" he snarled in a thoroughly ill-humoured way, and Ben and Dare falling to heel were led for'ard.
The fo'c'sle was in semi-darkness, and those of the crew not on watch were asleep in their berths. Hines pointed out a narrow, coffin-like space in which there was only a straw-stuffed mattress.
"That'll have to do for the two of you," he said. "We're more than full-up here already. You can git blankets when we reaches St. Pierre."
With those words he left them. They watched him go, then turned to their berth. There was no chance of talking without being overheard, so the only thing to do was sleep. As they had not slept for twenty-four hours they found it possible to find forgetfulness even in such an uncomfortable bed, and they did not wake to reality till late in the morning.
Dare was the first to stir. He woke to find himself in unfamiliar surroundings. The smell of frying fish assailed his nostrils, and the grumblings of the crew struggling out of their berths filled his ears. To his surprise the schooner was stationary. So far as he could determine they were once more at St. Pierre.
Excited by this possibility and interested beyond everything in his surroundings, he sprang lightly out of his berth on to the fo'c'sle floor.
The others of the crew who were stirring regarded him curiously.
"It's the feller we runned down last night," said one. "Where's the old one?" asked another. "There in his berth," was the reply.
Dare felt somewhat embarrassed at being discussed as though he were not present. The crew had none of his sensitiveness, however, and what they didn't know they proceeded to ask about until they were in possession of an expurgated account of the circumstances attending the arrival of the two in the fo'c'sle.
Their curiosity satisfied they sat down to the table, and the cook, a Frenchman, bearded, stout, and as far removed in cleanliness and skill from the conventional idea of a French chef as can be imagined, served them.
Dare roused Ben, who woke in full possession of his wits and proceeded immediately to meet the crew on their own ground of familiarity. The cook pointed out two places which they were told to take, and they breakfasted with the others.
Silence hung over the table—that is, a conversational silence—until all food in the immediate vicinity had been consumed. Then some of the men went on deck. Others returned to their berths.
Ben questioned the cook, who was not averse to gossip, as to the hour of their arrival, and discovered that they had arrived at St. Pierre at five o'clock, and that it was now ten.
"Didn't hear a sound," confessed Ben. "Dog-tired we was, both of us. You fellers nearly made us food fer the fishes last night."
"Tiens!" said the cook. "An' your boat, she has give me the one fright. Mon Dieu, it was to think the ship she was killed!"
"Well, all's well that ends well," said Ben soothingly. "What say if we goes on deck?" he added to Dare.
Dare jumped at the suggestion and made for the companion-way. Ben followed him.
Those of the crew who were on deck were idly smoking and gossiping, overlooked by the mate who, seated on the cabin roof, was keeping an officious eye on both ship and men.
Ben led the way casually to the rail near the break-deck, where they were fairly well isolated, and seating himself, motioned to Dare to follow his example.
"Well, here we are," he said, keeping his voice as low as possible.
"Yes."
"And no choice but to be here. You don't doubt that after what he said last night?"
"No," replied Dare. "There was nothing else to do. Anyone could see with half an eye that he was going to keep us on board whether we wanted to stay or not."
"Aye. The cap'n wouldn't be easy if he knowed," Ben stated.
"There's no need for him to know until we see this thing through."
"I s'pose not. We'll have to send him one of them O.K. telegrams to-morrer."
"Yes. I'd write him also if he could do anything with the information we can give him. But as he's laid up there's not much use. It would only worry him. We'll wait till we know more and he can get about. That ought to be in ten days or so. I can't see us staying on board this craft after we once know what we want to know, can you?"
"No," admitted Ben. "Once we finds out fer sure where that cave is and gets a chance to make a break, we're off fer Saltern."
"There's the crew getting out the boat," said Dare after a short pause in their conversation. "We might ask to go ashore too."
"We'll do that," agreed Ben, and walked aft to solicit shore leave of the mate.
"Go ashore?" growled that individual. "No, you can't. Not by a long shot."
"This afternoon, p'r'aps?" suggested Ben with appropriate humility.
"No, nor then."
"Well, to-morrer?"
"No, nor to-morrer, nor the next day. See?"
"No, I don't see," said Ben. "Who give them orders, if I might ask?"
"The capting, that's who. If you wants to go ashore you can whistle yourself there. My orders is to keep you on board and in sight till we sails again."
Ben, considerably discomfited by this information, rejoined Dare and told him what had taken place.
"We might have expected it!" said Dare. "He's not taking any chances."
"Aye. But this don't make things more easy fer us. Why, we can't even wire the cap'n O.K. or send him a note. Looks like it ain't goin' to be as easy to leave this one as we thought."
"We'll leave her when we've got a mighty good reason for doing so, don't you fret, Ben," said Dare, who considered that Pierre had contracted one more debt that would have to be paid with interest. "As for sending a cable to father, we might find some way of doing that yet. We'll have to use our brains. We can't let this bunch get the better of us."
"One thing's certain," growled Ben; "that feller Pierre is goin' to get a big surprise one of these days. If I ever meets him alone on a dark night—— The high-handedness of that feller is beyond belief. I'm goin' to tackle him when he comes on deck to know what he means by keepin' us shut up like chickens in a coop."
"Best not to make trouble," said Dare.
"I'm not goin' to make trouble. I'm only goin' to protest. Come to that, it wouldn't seem natural to him if I didn't."
But he got no chance of protesting to Pierre that day. The captain had already gone ashore and he did not return, but spent the night on land. About noon the next day, however, he came on board and was closeted for a long time with the mate. When he appeared on deck it was once more to go ashore. Ben had the temerity to intercept him as he was about to board the waiting boat.
"What's this, cap'n, about me and the boy not bein' allowed to go ashore?" he asked.
Pierre turned on him shortly. "Don't bother me with your troubles," he said. "Take your orders from the mate."
"But, cap'n——" began Ben in protest.
Pierre, impatient, unexpectedly struck out with his clenched fist, and as Ben landed his length in the scuppers he said: "Do I have to tell you twice, curse you! Take your orders from the mate."
Ben got to his feet, his hand feeling at his damaged jaw, and rejoined Dare, rage eating at his heart.
They did not make the mistake of asking for leave again, but waited their opportunity to go ashore without leave. The opportunity did not arrive, however. They found themselves kept under close surveillance. The mate or one of the crew unostentatiously shadowed their every movement.
When two days passed and they failed to escape the vigilance of the crew even for sufficient time to hail a passing boat, they began to get anxious. Captain Stanley, they knew, if he did not receive a cable in another day or so, would become alarmed and might make inquiries in St. Pierre which would wreck their plans and might very conceivably endanger their position.
On the fourth day in port they began to load again, and the talk for'ard was that they would be leaving on the night of the sixth. There had been no confidential exchanges between Ben and Dare and the rest of the crew. Evidently the latter had been warned, for whenever Ben or Dare endeavoured casually to bring the conversation round to the subject of theMary'sactivities, an uncompromising silence settled down.
They finished loading on the day they began taking cargo. After supper that evening Ben, smoking a pipe on deck, admitted to himself the hopelessness of trying to get into communication with Captain Stanley.
At that time of day the harbour was dotted with row-boats pulling to the quays, containing ships' crews bound ashore for a night's jollification. One such passed close to theMary, where Ben was in sole possession of the deck, though a wisp of tobacco smoke, rising above the cabin shutter, showed that the vigilant mate was not far away.
Ben eyed the boat as he had eyed every boat which had passed the ship for days, in the hope that it might contain some person known to him and that some way would be found to get a message sent to the captain. As before he was disappointed. He knew no one in the boat, and therefore had no reason to hail her except for the purpose of asking for a lift ashore, and that was not possible while the mate was within earshot. To his surprise, however, he was hailed by one of the men in the boat, which contained four persons.
"That you, Ben? How goes it?"
At the sound of voices the mate came running on deck. He approached near enough to Ben to hear all that passed between him and the men in the boat. Ben, ignoring his presence, singled out the man who had hailed him and after a few seconds remembered him as an old shipmate.
"You Ames?" he called out. "What you doin' here?"
"We just got in from Lisbon. Bound to Saltern with salt. What you doin'?"
"Coastin' a bit."
"Goin' ashore?"
"Not the night. Might see you to-morrer."
"We sails in the morning."
"Too bad. Well, drink one fer me. And remember me to all old hands you see."
The boat then passed on, and the mate, after a suspicious look at Ben, went back to his seat in the companion-way.
Ben was delighted with the chance meeting and the opportunity it had given him of getting word to the captain. For Ames was bound to meet Captain Stanley in his official capacity at Saltern, and the captain, knowing him to have come from St. Pierre and to be an old shipmate of Ben's, would be sure to question him.
Ben turned to go below to inform Dare of the fortuitous incident, but before he could do so Dare came on deck. Ben saw from his face that something out of the ordinary had happened, and he kept back his own news till he had heard Dare's.
"What is it?" he asked.
Dare was labouring under great excitement.
"Ben, I've found out about the oven. You'll never guess. It's the cave!"
Ben was more bewildered than surprised.
"The oven ... the cave?" he repeated.
Dare explained in detail.
"While I was lying down the sailors began to talk. They didn't mind me, apparently. They talked about sailing to-morrow night and one of them said he hoped the water would be smoother than the last time they were at the Oven. The cave is called the Oven, it seems. That's what that fellow on board theGlenbowmeant. And Ben! I think I know where it is. One of the men mentioned the Table. He said it was a nuisance and that some time theMarywould break her back on it in making the cave. Well, the Table is a queer, flat-topped rock. I heard the dad mention it by name when he talked about how he had inspected the coast. It's less than a mile from Saltern!"
Dare's excitement did not exceed Ben's once that worthy had fully grasped the value of the discovery.
"We got to get away from here as soon as we can," he said. "We got to get away before theMarysails and find some way of sendin' word to the cap'n."
"Absolutely!" agreed Dare. "We'll try for it early in the morning."
But they did not. At nine o'clock that same night Pierre came aboard in a great hurry. In a moment the news spread that theMarywould sail that night ... immediately. And half an hour later the schooner was nosing her way out of the harbour.
Pierre was in a great hurry. He pressed all sail on the schooner and started the engine, with the result that she began to cover the course at a great rate. A new moon was in its first quarter, but the sky was clouded, as it usually is on that coast, and acted as an effectual screen. Nevertheless, there was a lightening of the intense blackness which had marked the previous voyage.
The ship carried lights until she picked up the mainland, then she cloaked them. Pierre was taking the shortest route to the cave and was hugging the coast, which he evidently knew by heart, to use a local phrase. No man not completely confident as to his knowledge of that coast would have dared sail as Pierre did that night. The land loomed up visibly and now and then the crew even caught sight of a white fringe of breakers.
There was some excitement on board, and a little grumbling. The men hated to have their leave cut short, but the moodiness caused by this was to a great extent submerged in curiosity as to the reason for the sudden change of plans. Pierre never did anything without a very good reason, and it was not likely that he would risk entering the cave with the tide still two hours to fall without there being urgency of an unusual kind.
Dare and Ben shared in the curiosity and excitement. But their chagrin at having failed to get away from theMaryin time to be able to make use of their knowledge in regard to the cave's whereabouts, was great. Ben was able to resign himself to circumstances more than Dare, who, in fact, could not resign himself at all.
All the while theMarywas forging along the coast, a white wave at her prow, he was trying desperately to think of some way of escaping and getting word to his father.
Could one escape in the cave? Or would Pierre lock them up again as he had done formerly, as soon as they neared the coast where it was situated? He eyed the land, which loomed up darkly. It was no more than a quarter of a mile away. If he were ashore there he could cut across country and get to Saltern in an hour. He knew the lie of the land well enough for that, for he had observed it closely as they had passed it on their way to St. Pierre.
But the land might as well have been ten miles away for all the chance there was of his reaching it. Quarter of a mile! He could swim it easily on a night like this. At that thought his heart leaped. Why not swim it? But how to escape so as to avoid pursuit? He took a step backwards in his excitement and stumbled. His hand caught the rail and he steadied himself. The incident showed him a way out. He would pretend to fall overboard. He could do it easily, shout "cramp," dive, and come up some distance away from the schooner. Then, after waiting for the excitement which would follow his loss to cool down, he could strike out for the land.
He had no sooner visualized the feat than he decided on it, despite its hazardous nature. It was a chance, and a sporting chance, to get the news to his father in time to plan the great coup that would end, he felt sure, in the capture of the smugglers. Though his father was lame, he could go to the cave by boat. A crew of loyal men could be raked up somehow. He did not stop to think much of these difficulties. His great desire was to get word to Saltern.
He had no time to lose and he had to plan quickly. Should he confide in Ben? He decided against it. Ben would, he knew, forbid the attempt, and he had promised his father to obey him. There was nothing for it but to let Ben remain in ignorance. It was better for the success of the plan that he should. It would be hard on him, but it could not be helped.
TheMarywas now nearing Saltern. Dare went to the fo'c'sle, and taking off his heavy boots put on a pair of loose slippers, which could be kicked off easily once he was in the water.
Trousers and a shirt would thus be his only impediments. Having made these preparations he went on deck. The ship was in darkness. He looked ashore and could just descry a line of breakers which betokened, he hoped, a beach. Now was his chance! By the greatest good luck the mate at this moment gave the order to pump the ship. He told Dare to draw a bucket of water. Dare jumped at the chance to fake an accident. The deck was sufficiently dark for his purpose.
Dare approached the side and in the shadow of the rigging, which obscured his movements, threw the bucket overboard. He began drawing it up hand over hand; then, as he leaned forward to take it in over the rail, he pretended to slip. He gave a shout of alarm and fell into the sea, taking a perfect header.
He dived deep and swam under water towards shore until he was forced to come to the surface. When he emerged theMarywas already some distance away, but her engine had been reversed and there were sounds of confusion rising from her deck. Evidently there was some doubt as to who had fallen overboard. He gave a shout of "Cramp!" Immediately there was an answering hail. He shouted "Help!" more feebly, then remained silent and attended upon the event.
He heard suddenly Ben's voice, hoarse with terror: "Show a light! Lower a boat! The boy's drowning!"
And closely following came Pierre's voice: "Knock that old fool on the head! He'll rouse the whole coast. How'd that boy fall overboard? Can you see him? Where is he? Give a shout and if he answers we'll lower a boat."
A guarded shout rang out. Silence followed it. Dare heard someone say: "I heard him shout 'cramp.' He's done for."
"Looks like there's nothing we can do," said Pierre. "We might as well get under way again. We've got no time to lose. Lower the spars."
At this moment Ben, who had evidently been stunned by a blow, began to recover and shout again.
"Put a sock in his mouth!" Pierre could be heard exclaiming. "Take him below and lock him up." Then theMarybegan to move ahead once again.
Dare, satisfied of the success of his ruse, began to swim shorewards with a steady stroke. The water was smooth under the land and there was no wind, but the sea was terribly cold and he began to fear that he would have a real attack of cramp if he remained in for long.
He had never swum at night before, and at first he felt overwhelmed by the tremendous isolation bred by the darkness. He felt pressed down by it also, and began to realize for the first time what a puny force was his, as he lay in the arms of the eternal mother. Would she bear him up or would she smother him in her embrace?
His imagination began to exaggerate the dangers before him, and suddenly he began to lose confidence. Was he swimming in the right direction? How was he to know? He had dived, and while under water might have turned seawards instead of landwards. It was with great relief that he heard the sound of the breakers ahead of him.
Then he began to be haunted by a fear that he would not find a beach. Suppose he found the land guarded by an unscalable mountain of rock? But the beach was there. He had seen its white fringe of breakers. He might be able to see it now. He stood upright, treading water, and raised himself as high as possible, but could see nothing but the cliff-head looming repellently in the gloom high up above him. However, it was something to see even that. At least he was sure now he was swimming in the right direction. He must go on. He swam forward, vigorously at first, then less so as the long minutes passed. The surf was near enough now to deafen him to other sounds, and the sea rose in waves which rolled landward and broke, not against a wall of rock, but on a beach. To his great joy and thankfulness, he had found his landing—a narrow strip of shingle between two upright cliffs.
Dare put extra energy into his enfeebled stroke, warmed and strengthened by his success. The last few yards were the most difficult. He was thrown shorewards in headlong manner, then sucked back yards more than he had gained. Eventually, however, he got near enough the shore to touch the shingle. He stood erect and began to run forward. A sea caught him, knocked him off his feet, and threw him high and dry on the beach.
He lay panting there just long enough to recover his breath, then he began to eye the cliff before him. Was it scalable? It did not rise precipitously, like the cliffs which had their base in deep water. This much he could see In those moments when the young moon peeped from behind a cloud. It sloped back until it merged almost imperceptibly with the grassy headland. Once within reach of that upper incline and he had as good as won through. But before that could be gained the rocky base, steep enough to daunt even the boldest climber, had to be negotiated.
Every moment was of value now, and as soon as he had recovered his breath he set about exploring. The stones cut his feet cruelly. He felt his way along the base of the cliff until he came to a declivity. Water ran down it in the wet season, but now it was dry and filled with stones, dead twigs, and other rubbish. He felt that this would be a good take-off for his climb. He might even follow it to the top, if the loose rubble in it did not betray his footing.
He made a light leap, and using hands and feet, managed to secure a hold. He straddled his legs as much as possible, and pressing his body well forward so as to maintain his balance, made a move upwards.
The headland seemed an immense distance away. The rock cut his feet more cruelly than the beach and made his hold precarious. But he held firmly to his endeavour. There was no going back now. He had to go upwards or fall. So he went upwards. Step by step, feeling his way, testing every hold, he mounted towards the cliff-top. It was slow, agonizing work, and the concentration needed very fortunately prevented him from thinking overmuch of the peril of his position. Once, about half-way up, he had a sudden vision of the cliff and himself, hanging like a fly to its walls, suspended over the waiting beach below. And suddenly he looked down. The sea lay like a lake of ink, washing the beach with a white cloth. He grew dizzy at the thought of falling. Then, fearing the panic which gripped his vitals, he put all idea of falling from him and held tenaciously to his purpose.
As he mounted, the cliff grew less steep and facilitated his progress. Eventually, in reaching up a hand for a hold, he touched grass and knew that his climb was near its end. He quickened his movements. Gradually the rock was left behind. He fell on his knees and began to crawl; the cliff was still too steep for him to stand erect. The grass was soothing to his bruised feet. He used hands and knees and feet in negotiating the slippery, grassy slope, and after a last breath-taking effort reached the top, rolling himself on to the level headland, where he lay temporarily exhausted.
His intention, once he had recovered sufficiently to make a move, was to strike inland, and cut across the wooded head of land which separated him from Saltern. He did not know how far he was from the town, but he estimated it at three miles. He thought at first the best plan was to take the short cut, though it entailed the risk of getting lost in the wood. The discovery of a goat track on the edge of the cliff, however, decided him to take the longer but more certain, though far more dangerous, route along the shore. The goat track would, he thought, enable him to skirt the coast successfully. And he had only to follow it to reach his objective, whereas in the dark wood there was probably little to guide his steps, and he might end by being lost altogether and spending the night in futile searching for a way out.
Having decided on the goat track, he proceeded to prepare for it. He knew he could not long walk in his stockinged feet over such a path. He therefore stripped off his shirt, tore it in two pieces and wrapped up his feet as best he could. The result was very cumbersome, but much more comfortable; and he set out confidently on his jaunt.
Although the night was a dark one, it was not so hopelessly black as to preclude all idea of direction. Dare could descry large solid objects at a distance of ten yards, and the path was dimly visible for two yards or so. This helped him a little, but he had to go very slowly.
There were times when a slip of the foot would have meant a fall of some hundreds of feet; there were other times when the path ran level and free from obstacles, well away from the edge of the cliff. But for the most part it skirted the precipice in a nerve-racking fashion.
The transforming of his shirt into bandages for his feet left the upper part of his body bare, and he flinched at times as the branches of obstructing boughs tore his skin. Fortunately the night was warm and he did not suffer from exposure, despite his recent swim.
He was in splendid condition, and although he had accomplished two dangerous feats and was engaged on another, he felt no fatigue. He experienced an exhilaration which made effort seem almost play.
The darkness was his greatest obstacle. It hid the dangers of the track from him and caused his imagination to play nervy tricks. It made boulders take on the form of crouching creatures and stunted trees appear as men. There were several occasions when he startled and was startled by sheep and goats; but on the whole his path was free from living creatures, except those created by his imagination.
Then suddenly, as he was mounting an incline, he saw a man rise out of the earth before him. He could hardly credit his senses with the apparition, but as if to prove to him that he was not dreaming, another vague shadowy form rose up and followed the first inland.
The darkness hid Dare from them, for he was in the shadow cast by some trees, while they were on the high back of the ridge towards which he was mounting. Excited by the possibility the appearance of these nocturnal figures presented, Dare flung himself down on the turf and waited. Another figure appeared, then another and another, until he had counted ten. Then there was an end.
Each figure had had a hump-like protuberance on its back, and Dare knew as well as if he had been told by Pierre himself that he had seen the smugglers carrying their illicit spoil to their cache.
This incident tempted him to side-track his mission to Saltern and to make a personal investigation of the cache. Fortunately wisdom returned to him in time to prevent him doing this, and he kept to his original venture. He crept up behind the opening in the ground. He would have liked to take a peep down into the cave, but caution forbade. He stopped only long enough to tie his pocket handkerchief to an adjacent bush, then hurried on towards Saltern.
He had an idea that when he passed the next ridge he would see the town. And this proved to be so. To his great joy he saw Saltern light blinking its warning, and, farther off, the lights of a ship at anchor. The town itself was indicated by one or two late lights, such as those which had marked it on his arrival from St. John's.
Spurred by the thought of a successful end to his endeavour, he left the goat track and struck down straight towards the harbour. The trees had thinned out now sufficiently to enable him to see his way easily, and he soon found himself on a grassy slope which ended at the shore.
He ran down the last few yards, his momentum carrying him knee-deep into the water. He then had to cross the harbour. He did not like the idea of swimming. He had had enough of that for one night. So he set about searching the shore feverishly for a boat, and as they were fairly plentiful he soon found one.
It did not take him long to row to the town side. Once there he hastily tied the boat to the quay and set out at a run for the Customs House.
Captain Stanley was closeted with the captain of the Revenue cutterDrake, which had anchored off Saltern at eleven o'clock that night. Despite the lateness of the hour Captain McDonnell had come ashore to call, some rumours having reached him concerning the attack to which his colleague and friend had been subjected.
An all-night session had thus been inaugurated, for Captain Stanley had much to discuss and much to plan, following the opportune visit of theDrake. He gave Captain McDonnell the full story of his activities since reaching Saltern, including the departure of Ben and Dare for St. Pierre. Captain McDonnell felt inclined to deprecate the latter action, but he held his peace, seeing that his friend was already reaping the consequences. For Captain Stanley had been made uneasy and finally alarmed by the continued silence of the two adventurers.
"I'd look upon it as a personal favour," he said to Captain McDonnell, "if you would call at St. Pierre and set inquiries on foot. I admit now that I made a mistake in sending those two there. I should have known that those smuggling fellows were unscrupulous and that if they ever came to suspect Ben and Dare it would go hard with them. Of course, there may be some simple reason for their silence. But I have my fears."
"I'll call there, certainly," said McDonnell. "We'll leave the first thing at daybreak."
Captain Stanley nodded and continued: "Then, if you don't mind, I'd like you to come back here and help me clean up this nest. I'll borrow your crew for a land attack. I'll find that cache or know the reason why. It's time the high-handed actions of those fellows were put a stop to."
"We'll back your moves, certainly," said McDonnell vigorously. "I'd give a good deal to see those fellows put under restraint. They've made me a joke on the coast for years. Of course, as you know, except for chasing bait pirates we're not much use here. We're almost helpless so far as the liquor trade is concerned. We can't stop every small boat we see on suspicion. That would be only trouble for nothing, for these fellows, I am convinced, run only on dark nights and usually when theDrakeis on another route. For they're well informed. I wouldn't be surprised if they didn't know I was here now; at least, I'm sure they've heard I'm due within twenty-four hours, for I took care to make it known at St. Mary's that I should be here then. But I altered my course and got here about fourteen hours ahead of time. I thought it wouldn't be a bad idea to get here before I was expected, considering all the circumstances."
"You did well," Captain Stanley assured him, then broke into a sudden exclamation. For there had sounded at the door a series of loud, insistent knocks. Knocks at that time of the night, or morning, rather! Both men stared at each other; Captain Stanley in a sort of dread.
"One of my fellows, I expect," said McDonnell, "though why he's come I don't know. I'd better go down and open the door, hadn't I?"
"Yes, yes, go down," commanded Captain Stanley, and literally pushed his friend from the room.
A very few minutes later Captain McDonnell returned, his face transfigured with excitement.
"Stanley, here's news, good news!" he shouted joyously, and dragged Dare into the room; a Dare naked to the waist, covered with sweat through which oozed blood from one or two deep scratches, his feet ragged bundles of cloth, his riotous hair tumbling over eyes ablaze with excitement.
"Good heavens!" cried Captain Stanley. "Dare, my boy! Are you hurt?"
Dare fervently shook the hand he found in his. "Not a bit!" he gasped, for he was winded a little. "Fit as a riddle ... I've just escaped ... listen——"
"Not a word!" broke in his father authoritatively; "not a word! Rub him down, McDonnell, he's wet and chilled. I'll rouse Martha and get him a dry shift. There's spirits in the cupboard. Give him a dose."
Dare was forced to submit to these ministrations. Several times he essayed to tell his story, pleading urgency, but his father would not hear a word of it till he was once more in dry clothes, with the warmth of the spirit coursing through his veins.
Then he was permitted to speak. He told his story quickly, beginning with the hour they had left Saltern and leading up to his dramatic escape and subsequent adventures. Both auditors failed to conceal their astonishment and even horror at the risks he had taken. But they were too much occupied by the dramatic development his adventures had made possible to censure him at the moment.
"McDonnell, we've got them!" exclaimed Captain Stanley.
"We have, indeed!"
"Now as to plans—— What a bit of luck, your turning up on this night of all nights! I must have your crew."
"And myself with them, I hope?"
"Of course. Now, Dare, my boy, you're sure of your facts? Near the Table, I think you said?"
"Yes, sir."
"I've passed it a dozen times. There is a hole in the cliff there. A good-sized one, when you go near it. But I could never have believed it is what you say if I hadn't been told. I remember the first time I saw it the fisherman who was with me explained why it was known locally as the Oven. He said that there was deep water inside and no beach, and that the suction and noise of the sea forcing itself into the chasm made a noise like that of a lot of copper pans being banged about. So some local wit called it the Oven. I never dreamed that it was practicable for the smugglers' purposes, a cave without a beach! Of course, I never imagined a back exit. Who would, looking at the solid face of the cliff? Why, the old fisherman even warned me not to enter it, giving as a reason the fact that there were huge splinters of rock hanging from its roof and that from time to time there were regular avalanches of these splinters, so that it was highly dangerous to go into the cave. And I believed him, for certainly the fishermen never seemed to go near it. Well, it's a lesson to me not to overlook even the remotest possibility after this.
"McDonnell, we must attack from both ends. I'll have to nab them at the sea end because of my leg, which prevents me from walking. I'll take one of your boats and a good crew. We'll make our way to the Oven and lie off it, waiting for your signal. For I want you to take a dozen men and go with Dare to the land entrance. You think you can find it, Dare?"
"Absolutely, sir! It's on the top of the second ridge near the cliff-end, and to make sure I could find it again I tied my handkerchief to a bough."
"Good boy! You say they come out in single file?"
"Yes, sir."
"That gives you a perfect chance to nab them one by one as they come out, McDonnell. Knock 'em on the head and tie 'em up, and when you've got the shore gang fast, flash us a signal from the cliff-top with your flashlight—three long and one short—then we'll close in by water and nab the schooner and her crew. Agreed?"
"Agreed," said Captain McDonnell.
"Then we ought to be on our way at once. Your boat's crew is on the quay, I suppose?"
"I expect so. That's where I left them."
"Then if you'll give me an arm and my stick we'll go there right away. I'm afraid we won't be in time. Come on, Dare."
Stopping only long enough to speak a few reassuring words to Martha regarding Ben's safety, the party left the house.
On the quay they found the boat's crew waiting, and were soon rowed on board theDrake. Here the crew were roused and divided into two parties of eight men each. Arms were served out, for it was felt the smugglers would put up a determined resistance. Then Captain McDonnell took to one boat with Dare and his crew, and Captain Stanley took to the other, with theDrake'ssecond officer as his second-in-command.
"Give us half an hour to get there, Stanley; then row to the cave. Don't frighten them at your end before we've nabbed the shore crew. From what Dare says, however, the noise in the cave is such that they won't hear anything till we're suddenly among them."
"Right you are," said Captain Stanley. "Keep an eye on Dare. He's taken enough risks for one night."
"Ready? Push off!" ordered McDonnell, and his boat went surging harbourwards at a great rate.
The crew beached her near the spot where Dare had found a boat a little while before, then stepped ashore, moving quietly and efficiently. Captain McDonnell spoke to one of them, and the man stooped and filled a large pocket handkerchief with sand, knotting the cloth into the shape of a bag. The result was a silent, formidable weapon. He then told Dare to take the lead, and the climb up the incline began. Dare, though a little tired by excitement and physical effort, showed no outward signs of fatigue. He led the crew swiftly and well, and they soon approached the ridge near which the entrance to the cave was situated. They gained the vicinity of the entrance without having given the slightest cause for an alarm. The men fell on hands and knees in negotiating the last few yards. At last Dare discovered his handkerchief and a halt was signalled. The men were ranged immediately behind the entrance, so that the smugglers would emerge with their backs to them.
Captain McDonnell drew one of the crew to his side and whispered an order. "We'll let the first man who comes out go, so that we can find out where the cache is. Follow him and don't let him get away or give an alarm."
The man nodded and saluted. Captain McDonnell then turned to the sailor whom he had bade fashion the sandbag. "Hit every man who comes out after the first fellow, so that you don't have to hit twice," he ordered. "Two men will ease them down to the ground to prevent a noise. The others will tie them up and lay them on one side. Every man is to be treated in the same way. No unnecessary noise, if you value your extra pay."
There was silence then. Dare, who was not the least excited of the crew, felt as though his breath was being emitted in stentorian snorts, which would surely warn the smugglers of his and his companions' presence.
The suspense of waiting did not last long, however. There suddenly sounded a noise as though a foot had slipped on a pebble. It was followed by a human grunt, and the muffled sound of human speech. The waiting men stiffened expectantly. Then, when they had begun to wonder if they had not been deceived, and even to be subjected to the fear that they had arrived too late, a man's head and shoulders rose out of the middle of the bushes behind which they were crouching. He was carrying two or three heavy cases hung sling-fashion from his shoulders, and went staggering inland. The member of the crew detailed to follow him slipped quietly in his wake, and both were soon lost sight of in the darkness.
The watchers sighed with relief. They were in time, and the coup had begun well. Without warning another man appeared. The sandbag descended on his head as he set foot in the open. Two of the sailors caught him as he sagged, and lowered body and plunder to the ground. Quickly others of the crew dragged both away.
Captain McDonnell counted the seconds as they passed. Dare, his heart beating at a suffocating rate, did likewise. Three men then appeared so close behind each other that the last emerged before his predecessor could be dragged from his path. His suspicions were aroused, but before he could cry out the sandbag fell once again. There was a dull report as man and packages crashed to the earth, but no alarm was taken. Five more men appeared in quick succession. Each was treated in similar fashion, and the whole proceeding was carried out so expertly that those in the cave had not the slightest suspicion of the Nemesis on their track.
"I think that's all the shore crew," whispered Dare, when the tenth man had been trussed. "I counted ten the other time."
"We'll wait five minutes," said Captain McDonnell. "Then, before those in the cave can get uneasy about these fellows, we'll signal your father and he can take them by surprise as we planned."
The five minutes passed without anyone appearing. Captain McDonnell then took an electric torch from his pocket and made his way to the edge of the cliff. Holding the torch so that it would be visible from below, he flashed it on and off—three long and one short. He waited anxiously for a minute, then saw a single spot of light show for an instant below. His signal had been received. He hurried back to the waiting crew.
The latter were in a tremendous state of excitement, for they were looking forward to a fight. Hitherto, although the adventure had been of a sporting character, it had not proved exceptionally thrilling. But if, as they expected, Captain McDonnell gave the order to descend into the cave, there would certainly be a fight, and not one of them but, like overgrown schoolboys, was excited by the prospect.
Captain McDonnell noted the change in their attitude and smiled to himself in the darkness. "We'll give the boat five minutes to get into the cave, men," he said cheerfully. But before the five minutes had expired there came from the sea, in the vicinity of the cave, the report of a rifle.
"They've begun!" shouted Captain McDonnell, throwing aside all caution with the disappearance of the need for it. "After me, men!" He leapt into the bushes and disappeared. With a hearty cheer the crew precipitately followed his example. They could be heard tumbling down and shouting warnings to those behind them, warnings which were totally disregarded, for in that moment not one of the party had a thought for his own neck, and they would have leapt a precipice if there was a fight going on at the bottom of it.
Dare, as the youngest and weakest, had been forced to the tail-end of the procession. His turn soon came, however. He leapt into the bushes as recklessly as any of his predecessors and fell with a resounding bump for a distance of ten feet, for at the entrance to the cave the stair was absolutely perpendicular. He picked himself up, felt for broken bones, and not finding any made his way as fast as possible after the rest of the crew. The formation of the passage was such that the tremendous din of the cave did not penetrate it. All Dare could hear was the shouts of the crew ahead. Flares such as he had viewed from theMary'sdeck lighted his way. The stair followed a zigzag course, and suddenly he found himself in full sight and hearing of the cave. It was about sixty feet below him.
The flares revealed theMarylying by the side of the rock. On her deck were struggling demoniac figures, staggering like drunken men from one rail to the other. And below him, just above the landing-place, Captain McDonnell and his crew were encountering those of the smugglers who, seeing the danger from the sea, had attempted to escape by the stair.
The wildness of the scene, half revealed in the supernatural light of the flares, held him spellbound. So great was the din given off by the surging water in the cave that no sound of the furious battle in progress rose above it. Voices, blows, oaths, and cries of pain and alarm were drowned by the great voice of the cave, which seemed to exert itself in an effort to obliterate every human sound in its vicinity.
Now and then in the light of the flares Dare saw an agonized face, a lifted weapon; but no sound accompanied either revelation. It was as if the fight were being carried on in dumb-show.
He hurried down the stairs to join in the affray, throwing aside caution, which had no place in any of those there that night. As he neared Captain McDonnell's party, which was gradually forcing the smugglers back on board theMary, where they were being severely handled by Captain Stanley and his crew, he saw one of the fellows escape and make a dart up the stair towards him. He waited for the man to get within jumping distance, then launched himself precipitately upon him.
The smuggler gave a grunt as Dare struck him, and collapsed. Both went rolling over and over down the stairs and, bouncing past the struggling crew, who were too much occupied to notice them, rolled off the ledge into the water.
Dare, half-winded, felt the smuggler's hold relax and came above water blowing noisily. He saw his opponent rise about the same time and make for the rock, a knife between his teeth. A flare revealed him climbing up the face of the ledge. Then an arm reached out, dragged him over, and clubbed him with a rifle before he could raise a hand in defence.
Dare did not care to risk being treated in similar fashion by his own party in the dark. He looked about him and for the second time that night found himself under the bowsprit of theMary. He clambered into the head rigging and eventually reached the schooner's deck.
The mass of the struggling men were centred aft on the landing side. The smugglers were between two fires, the land party and the sea party, and as they were outnumbered nearly two to one it was only a matter of minutes before they would be overpowered. Nevertheless, they were putting up a desperate resistance. At such close quarters theDrake'screw found their rifles worse than useless. Even if they had desired to fire on the smugglers they could not have done so without bringing down some of their own men. So the battle degenerated into a bout of fisticuffs, with here and there a blow from a stick and the attempted use of a knife.
Dare made a vain effort to force his way between the backs of the sea crew in order to get a chance for a crack at the enemy. Finding his attempt hopeless—for theDrake'smen were massed shoulder to shoulder in fighting formation—he ran round the cabin so as to reach the landing side farther aft.
As he passed the companion-way he stopped to take a glance down into the cabin. It was deserted. He was about to pass on when he saw the door of the captain's stateroom tremble as though under an assault. At the same instant he heard a concerted cry of victory from theDrake'smen. He did not hesitate longer, but jumped down into the cabin. And as he did so he suddenly remembered Ben. It was Ben, of course, who was in the room! He had heard Pierre give the order to lock him up. And he had forgotten the poor old chap completely until this instant! He ran to the door. The key was in the lock. He turned it, opened the door, and was confronted by Ben.
The old sailor staggered backwards when he saw Dare before him. "Mr. Dare!" he exclaimed, and his voice trembled.
He reached out a horny hand and grabbed Dare's arm as though to convince himself of its solidity. "Mr. Dare!" he exclaimed again, tears of thankfulness and joy in his eyes. "Then you're not drowned?"
Dare wrung the old fellow's hand excitedly.
"No, no, not at all. Why, Ijumpedoverboard. I wanted to get word to Saltern, and I didn't tell you for fear you'd prevent me. And I did it, Ben, I did it! We've captured the lot!"
"Then it was fighting I heard?"
"Yes, yes!"
"On deck!" shouted Ben, the light of battle in his eyes. But before they could make a move a wild figure suddenly filled the companion-way, and leaping down into the cabin confronted them menacingly.
It was Pierre. Blood was running down his face. His eyes were bloodshot. His shirt was torn from his body, which gleamed darkly. He had the wild, distracted appearance of one who had suffered overwhelming, humiliating defeat.
When he saw Dare he cried aloud:
"You! Then you didn't drown? Ah, now I see it all! You swam ashore and gave us away, eh? Curse you, you'll suffer for that!"
He leapt towards Dare, who stood his ground. But suddenly he was swept backwards by Ben, who drove in two fists to the charging Pierre's chest. They rang as on hollow wood.
"All right, you first!" raged Pierre, and swung two heavy blows to Ben's head. The latter staggered, then shook off the effect of the blows doggedly. He sprang in and was enfolded by Pierre in a bear-like hug. Ben managed to trip his opponent. They fell to the floor, rolling over and over, kicking, gouging, biting. For Pierre was not in a mood to waste time on finesse; and Ben was forced to meet him with his own methods in an effort at self-preservation.
Dare, his face strained and white, watched the uneven conflict. He knew Ben had no chance in a rough-and-tumble with Pierre, and he sought to aid him before he should be crippled or worse. He hovered round the two, watching his chance. But it was impossible to distinguish between the opponents, so swift and tortuous were their movements.
Then suddenly Pierre managed to drive his knee deep into Ben's stomach. Ben gave an immense sigh as the air was expelled from his lungs, then relaxed his hold and lay helpless. Pierre, as quick as a panther, was on his feet, his face disfigured with hate and rage. He raised his heavily booted foot, aiming at the prostrate figure on the floor.
Dare suddenly felt the red tide of hate rise in himself, a hate of the cowardly and brutal gesture.
"No, you don't!" he shrieked vindictively, and raising the wooden pump-handle he had seized as a weapon when he came on board, he brought it down heavily on Pierre's flaming head.
The heavy, poised foot stopped in mid-air. The kick was never delivered. Pierre was struck suddenly immobile, then his body sagged like a bag of sawdust and he fell to the floor without a word or a cry. The last of the smugglers had been taken.