Chapter Twenty.Raystoke looked round him for a weapon, but the only thing visible was a stone, and not feeling disposed to descend to such a barbarous means of offence or defence, he drew himself up, burning with indignation, but waiting for the others to commence speaking.He had not long to wait.“Hullo, sailor!” cried Ram; “like some milk?”“You rascal!” burst out Archy, taking a step toward the lad, but feeling directly a strong hand upon his arm to hold him back.“What’s the matter?” growled the owner of the hand.“The matter will be that you two will be hung at the yardarm some fine morning. How dare you shut me up in this hole?”“Hung for shutting you up here?” cried the boy. “We shall have to hang him then, Jemmy, after all.”“Ay, lad,” said the man. “When’ll we do it; now?”“Now!” cried the midshipman. “Do you think you are going to frighten me with such talk? Show me the way out of this place directly.”“Ram, lad,” said Jemmy Dadd, with a cackling laugh; “when yer ketches a wild thing, and puts him in a cage, he begins to bang hisself agen the sides, and knocks his head agen the bars, and if he could talk he’d go on just like that ’ere. Then you keeps quiet, and don’t give him nothing to eat, and after a day or two you can do what you like with him.”“Then we’d better take back the basket, Jemmy, eh?”“Ay, lad, that’s it. Leave him in the dark a bit to cool him down.”“You scoundrels!” cried the lad in frenzy. “If you do not show me the way out, I’ll shout for help, and when it does come, I’ll take care your punishment shall be ten times worse.”“Ah, do,” said Ram, laughing. “Won’t bring the roof down, will it, Jemmy?”“Nay, not it, lad. Come on.”“Wait a bit,” said Ram.—“I say, didn’t tell me whether you’d like a bottle o’ milk?”Archy felt as if he would like to fly at the boy, the very mention of the milk exasperating him to such an extent. But at every movement he felt himself more tightly held, and knowing from sad experience that it was waste of energy to contend with the iron-muscled fellow who gripped his arm, he smothered his anger.He did not speak, but as Ram held up the light, Archy’s countenance told tales of the passion struggling in his breast for exit, and the boy grinned.“I say, do have a bottle o’ milk,” he said; “it’s fresh and warm. Mother said it would do you good.”“Nay, lad, don’t give him none till he’s grow’d civil, and don’t talk about hanging on us.”“I brought you a bottle o’ new milk and some hot bread, on’y it’s getting cold now, and some butter and cold ham. Do have some.”Archy ground his teeth: he felt as if he would give anything for some food, and the very mention of the tasty viands made his mouth water, but he only stamped his foot and tried to shake himself free.“I am a king’s officer,” he shouted, “and order you to let me go!”“Hear that, Jemmy? Hold him tight.”“Ay! He’s tight enough!” cried the man, throwing a sturdy arm about the middy’s waist, and holding him back as he tried to get at Ram.“No good to give orders here,” said the latter, grinning. “You’re only a king’s officer when you’re aboard your little bit of a cutter.”“Will you let me out of this place?”“If I let you go will you tell your skipper about what you’ve seen?”“Yes,” cried Archy fiercely.“Then what a dumble head you must be to think we’ll let you go. Won’t do, little officer; will it, Jemmy?”“Do! Better chuck him off the cliff.”“What!” cried the midshipman fiercely.“Chuck you off the cliff. What do you mean by coming interfering here with honest men getting their living? We never did nothing to you.”“You scoundrel!” cried Archy, “how dare you say that? You know you are breaking the laws by smuggling, and you are doing worse by kidnapping me.”“Should have kep’ away then,” growled the man.“Don’t speak cross to him, Jemmy. He’s very sorry he came now, and if I let him go he’ll promise not to say a word about what he has seen; won’t you now, mate?”“No!” roared Archy.“Oh, well then, Jemmy’s right. We shall have to tame you down.”“Show me the way out of this.”“Come along then,” said Ram with a sneering laugh. “But you’d better promise.”“Show me the way out.”“Won’t you have some milk first?”“Do you hear me?”“And bread and butter, home-made?”“Will you show me the way out.”“Nor no ham? You must be hungry!”“You scoundrel!” cried Archy, who was exasperated almost beyond bearing. “Show me the way out.”“Oh, very well, this way, then. Hold him tight, Jemmy.”“Ay, ay, lad!”“This way, my grand officer without your fine clothes,” said Ram tauntingly, as he held down the lanthorn to show the rough stone floor. “Mind how you put your feet, and take care. Why don’t you come?”Archy made a start forward, but he was tightly held.“Why don’t you come, youngster?” cried Ram mockingly, as he held the lanthorn more closely. “There, now then, mind how you come.”Whang!The dull sound was followed by a faint clatter, and all was black darkness again, for raging with hunger and annoyance as the boy was, tightly held, the light down just in front of him, without any warning Archy drew back slightly, delivered one quick, sharp kick full at the lanthorn, and it flew right away into the darkness.“Well!” ejaculated Ram in his first moment of surprise. Then he burst into a roar of laughter which echoed from the roof.“You’re a nice un,” growled Jemmy.“Let him go, and come on,” cried Ram.A sudden thought struck the middy.“No, you don’t,” he muttered, as he wrenched himself round and clung to the man. “If you are going from here, I go too.”“Got the lanthorn, Ram, lad?” cried Jemmy.“No; and it’s smashed now. Come away.”“Let go, will you?” growled Jemmy.For answer the midshipman held on more tightly.“Do you hear? Come on!” cried Ram.“He won’t let go. He’s holding on legs, wings and teeth. Come and help.”“Get out: you can manage him. Put him on his back.”No sooner were the words uttered than, as he struggled there in the black darkness, Archy felt himself twisted up off his feet. There was a shake, a wrench, and as he clung tightly to the man, his arms were dragged, as it felt to him, half out of their sockets, and he was thrown, to come down fortunately on his hands and knees.For a few moments he felt half stunned by the shake, but recovering himself he leaped up and began to follow the retiring footsteps which were faintly heard.He knew the direction, and went on with outstretched hands to find the way, checked directly by their coming in contact with one of the great pillars of stone.But he felt his way round this, got to the other side, listened, made out which way the footsteps were going, followed on, and caught his feet against something which threw him forward on to a pile of broken stone.He got up again, and felt his way cautiously to the right, for the stones rose like a bank or barrier in his way, and he went many yards without finding a way through.Then feeling that he had taken the wrong turning, he retraced his steps as quickly as he could, going on and on without avail and never stopping. He was just in time to save himself from another fall as he heard a dull bang as if a heavy door were closed, followed by a curious rattling sound, as of large pieces of slate falling down and banging against wood. Then came a dull echoing, which died off in whispers, and all was perfectly still.“The cowards!” cried Archy, as he fully realised that his gaolers had escaped from him. “How brutal to leave a fellow shut up in a hole like this. ’Tis horrible; and enough to drive one mad. Ugh!” he now cried, “if I only could get out!”He sat down upon the rough stones, feeling weak, and perspiring profusely. It was many hours now since he had tasted food, and in his misery and despair he felt that he should be starved to death before his gaolers came again.“How dare they!” he cried passionately. “A king’s officer too! Oh, if I could only be once more along with the lads, and with a chance to go at them! I think I should be able to fight.”Then as he sat on the stones he began to cool down and grow less fierce in his ideas. In other words, he came down from pistols and sharp-edged cutlasses to fists, and felt such an intense longing to get at Ram, that his fists involuntarily clenched and his fingers tingled.“Wait a bit,” he said fiercely,—“wait a bit.”“Yes, I shall have to wait a bit,” he said sadly, as he rose from the stones. “Oh, how weak and hungry I am! It’s as if I was going to be ill. I wonder whether I could track where they went out.”“Not now,” he said,—“not now;” and with some faint hope of finding the place where he had been lying on the old sail, he began to move slowly and laboriously along, his mind dragged over, as it were, to the words of the boy as he taunted him about milk and bread and butter with ham. It was agonising in his literally starving condition to think of such things, and he tried to keep his mind upon finding the way out, meaning to work desperately after he had lain down for a bit to rest.But it was impossible to control his thoughts, strive how he would. Hunger is an overmastering desire, and he crept on step by step with outstretched hands, picturing in the darkness slices of ham, yellow butter, brown crusted loaves, and pure sweet milk, till, as he dragged his feet slowly along, half-fainting now with pain, weariness, and despair, his foot suddenly kicked against something which rolled over and over away from him.“The lanthorn!” he exclaimed eagerly, and planning at once how he could strike a light with a stone and his knife, and perhaps contrive some tinder, he went down on his hands and knees, feeling about in all directions till he touched the object which he had kicked, and uttered a cry of joy and excitement.It was not the lanthorn, but a round cross-handled basket with lid, and he trembled as he recalled Ram’s words about what his mother had sent.Was there truth in them, or were they the utterances of a malicious mind which wished to torture one who was in its power?Archy Raystoke hardly dared to think, and knelt there for a few minutes, with his trembling hands resting upon the basket, which he was afraid to open lest it should not contain that which he looked for.“Out of my misery at all events,” he cried; and he tore off the lid.
Raystoke looked round him for a weapon, but the only thing visible was a stone, and not feeling disposed to descend to such a barbarous means of offence or defence, he drew himself up, burning with indignation, but waiting for the others to commence speaking.
He had not long to wait.
“Hullo, sailor!” cried Ram; “like some milk?”
“You rascal!” burst out Archy, taking a step toward the lad, but feeling directly a strong hand upon his arm to hold him back.
“What’s the matter?” growled the owner of the hand.
“The matter will be that you two will be hung at the yardarm some fine morning. How dare you shut me up in this hole?”
“Hung for shutting you up here?” cried the boy. “We shall have to hang him then, Jemmy, after all.”
“Ay, lad,” said the man. “When’ll we do it; now?”
“Now!” cried the midshipman. “Do you think you are going to frighten me with such talk? Show me the way out of this place directly.”
“Ram, lad,” said Jemmy Dadd, with a cackling laugh; “when yer ketches a wild thing, and puts him in a cage, he begins to bang hisself agen the sides, and knocks his head agen the bars, and if he could talk he’d go on just like that ’ere. Then you keeps quiet, and don’t give him nothing to eat, and after a day or two you can do what you like with him.”
“Then we’d better take back the basket, Jemmy, eh?”
“Ay, lad, that’s it. Leave him in the dark a bit to cool him down.”
“You scoundrels!” cried the lad in frenzy. “If you do not show me the way out, I’ll shout for help, and when it does come, I’ll take care your punishment shall be ten times worse.”
“Ah, do,” said Ram, laughing. “Won’t bring the roof down, will it, Jemmy?”
“Nay, not it, lad. Come on.”
“Wait a bit,” said Ram.—“I say, didn’t tell me whether you’d like a bottle o’ milk?”
Archy felt as if he would like to fly at the boy, the very mention of the milk exasperating him to such an extent. But at every movement he felt himself more tightly held, and knowing from sad experience that it was waste of energy to contend with the iron-muscled fellow who gripped his arm, he smothered his anger.
He did not speak, but as Ram held up the light, Archy’s countenance told tales of the passion struggling in his breast for exit, and the boy grinned.
“I say, do have a bottle o’ milk,” he said; “it’s fresh and warm. Mother said it would do you good.”
“Nay, lad, don’t give him none till he’s grow’d civil, and don’t talk about hanging on us.”
“I brought you a bottle o’ new milk and some hot bread, on’y it’s getting cold now, and some butter and cold ham. Do have some.”
Archy ground his teeth: he felt as if he would give anything for some food, and the very mention of the tasty viands made his mouth water, but he only stamped his foot and tried to shake himself free.
“I am a king’s officer,” he shouted, “and order you to let me go!”
“Hear that, Jemmy? Hold him tight.”
“Ay! He’s tight enough!” cried the man, throwing a sturdy arm about the middy’s waist, and holding him back as he tried to get at Ram.
“No good to give orders here,” said the latter, grinning. “You’re only a king’s officer when you’re aboard your little bit of a cutter.”
“Will you let me out of this place?”
“If I let you go will you tell your skipper about what you’ve seen?”
“Yes,” cried Archy fiercely.
“Then what a dumble head you must be to think we’ll let you go. Won’t do, little officer; will it, Jemmy?”
“Do! Better chuck him off the cliff.”
“What!” cried the midshipman fiercely.
“Chuck you off the cliff. What do you mean by coming interfering here with honest men getting their living? We never did nothing to you.”
“You scoundrel!” cried Archy, “how dare you say that? You know you are breaking the laws by smuggling, and you are doing worse by kidnapping me.”
“Should have kep’ away then,” growled the man.
“Don’t speak cross to him, Jemmy. He’s very sorry he came now, and if I let him go he’ll promise not to say a word about what he has seen; won’t you now, mate?”
“No!” roared Archy.
“Oh, well then, Jemmy’s right. We shall have to tame you down.”
“Show me the way out of this.”
“Come along then,” said Ram with a sneering laugh. “But you’d better promise.”
“Show me the way out.”
“Won’t you have some milk first?”
“Do you hear me?”
“And bread and butter, home-made?”
“Will you show me the way out.”
“Nor no ham? You must be hungry!”
“You scoundrel!” cried Archy, who was exasperated almost beyond bearing. “Show me the way out.”
“Oh, very well, this way, then. Hold him tight, Jemmy.”
“Ay, ay, lad!”
“This way, my grand officer without your fine clothes,” said Ram tauntingly, as he held down the lanthorn to show the rough stone floor. “Mind how you put your feet, and take care. Why don’t you come?”
Archy made a start forward, but he was tightly held.
“Why don’t you come, youngster?” cried Ram mockingly, as he held the lanthorn more closely. “There, now then, mind how you come.”
Whang!
The dull sound was followed by a faint clatter, and all was black darkness again, for raging with hunger and annoyance as the boy was, tightly held, the light down just in front of him, without any warning Archy drew back slightly, delivered one quick, sharp kick full at the lanthorn, and it flew right away into the darkness.
“Well!” ejaculated Ram in his first moment of surprise. Then he burst into a roar of laughter which echoed from the roof.
“You’re a nice un,” growled Jemmy.
“Let him go, and come on,” cried Ram.
A sudden thought struck the middy.
“No, you don’t,” he muttered, as he wrenched himself round and clung to the man. “If you are going from here, I go too.”
“Got the lanthorn, Ram, lad?” cried Jemmy.
“No; and it’s smashed now. Come away.”
“Let go, will you?” growled Jemmy.
For answer the midshipman held on more tightly.
“Do you hear? Come on!” cried Ram.
“He won’t let go. He’s holding on legs, wings and teeth. Come and help.”
“Get out: you can manage him. Put him on his back.”
No sooner were the words uttered than, as he struggled there in the black darkness, Archy felt himself twisted up off his feet. There was a shake, a wrench, and as he clung tightly to the man, his arms were dragged, as it felt to him, half out of their sockets, and he was thrown, to come down fortunately on his hands and knees.
For a few moments he felt half stunned by the shake, but recovering himself he leaped up and began to follow the retiring footsteps which were faintly heard.
He knew the direction, and went on with outstretched hands to find the way, checked directly by their coming in contact with one of the great pillars of stone.
But he felt his way round this, got to the other side, listened, made out which way the footsteps were going, followed on, and caught his feet against something which threw him forward on to a pile of broken stone.
He got up again, and felt his way cautiously to the right, for the stones rose like a bank or barrier in his way, and he went many yards without finding a way through.
Then feeling that he had taken the wrong turning, he retraced his steps as quickly as he could, going on and on without avail and never stopping. He was just in time to save himself from another fall as he heard a dull bang as if a heavy door were closed, followed by a curious rattling sound, as of large pieces of slate falling down and banging against wood. Then came a dull echoing, which died off in whispers, and all was perfectly still.
“The cowards!” cried Archy, as he fully realised that his gaolers had escaped from him. “How brutal to leave a fellow shut up in a hole like this. ’Tis horrible; and enough to drive one mad. Ugh!” he now cried, “if I only could get out!”
He sat down upon the rough stones, feeling weak, and perspiring profusely. It was many hours now since he had tasted food, and in his misery and despair he felt that he should be starved to death before his gaolers came again.
“How dare they!” he cried passionately. “A king’s officer too! Oh, if I could only be once more along with the lads, and with a chance to go at them! I think I should be able to fight.”
Then as he sat on the stones he began to cool down and grow less fierce in his ideas. In other words, he came down from pistols and sharp-edged cutlasses to fists, and felt such an intense longing to get at Ram, that his fists involuntarily clenched and his fingers tingled.
“Wait a bit,” he said fiercely,—“wait a bit.”
“Yes, I shall have to wait a bit,” he said sadly, as he rose from the stones. “Oh, how weak and hungry I am! It’s as if I was going to be ill. I wonder whether I could track where they went out.”
“Not now,” he said,—“not now;” and with some faint hope of finding the place where he had been lying on the old sail, he began to move slowly and laboriously along, his mind dragged over, as it were, to the words of the boy as he taunted him about milk and bread and butter with ham. It was agonising in his literally starving condition to think of such things, and he tried to keep his mind upon finding the way out, meaning to work desperately after he had lain down for a bit to rest.
But it was impossible to control his thoughts, strive how he would. Hunger is an overmastering desire, and he crept on step by step with outstretched hands, picturing in the darkness slices of ham, yellow butter, brown crusted loaves, and pure sweet milk, till, as he dragged his feet slowly along, half-fainting now with pain, weariness, and despair, his foot suddenly kicked against something which rolled over and over away from him.
“The lanthorn!” he exclaimed eagerly, and planning at once how he could strike a light with a stone and his knife, and perhaps contrive some tinder, he went down on his hands and knees, feeling about in all directions till he touched the object which he had kicked, and uttered a cry of joy and excitement.
It was not the lanthorn, but a round cross-handled basket with lid, and he trembled as he recalled Ram’s words about what his mother had sent.
Was there truth in them, or were they the utterances of a malicious mind which wished to torture one who was in its power?
Archy Raystoke hardly dared to think, and knelt there for a few minutes, with his trembling hands resting upon the basket, which he was afraid to open lest it should not contain that which he looked for.
“Out of my misery at all events,” he cried; and he tore off the lid.
Chapter Twenty One.“They only want to keep me a prisoner,” said the midshipman half an hour after, as he sat with his mouth full, steadily eating away as a boy of seventeen can eat—“a prisoner till they’ve got all their stuff safe away. They dare not hurt me. I’m not afraid of that, and it’s a very strange thing if I can’t prove myself as clever as that cunning young scoundrel who trapped me here. At all events, I’ll try. They dare not starve me: not they. Wait a bit, and I’ll show them that I’m not so stupid as they think. Shut me up here, would they? Well, we’ll see!”He went on munching a little longer, then felt for the bottle, took out the tight cork, had a good long draught of the milk it contained, recorked and put it away in the basket with the bread, butter, and ham he had not consumed, shut down the lid, and laughed.There was nothing very cheerful about his prison to make him laugh, but the reaction was so great—he felt so different after his hearty meal—that he was ready to look any difficulty in the face, and full of wonder at his despondency of a short time before.There’s a good deal of magic in food to one who is fasting, and is blessed with health and a good appetite.“Now then,” he said, rising with the basket in his hand, “the first thing is to find a place to stow you;” and he had no difficulty in finding ledge after ledge that would have held the basket, but he wanted one that would be easily found in the darkness.At last he felt his way to a great mass of rock, upon which, about level with his head, was a projection upon which the basket stood well enough, and trusting to being able to find it again by means of the great block, he turned his attention to the lanthorn.“If I only had that,” he said to himself.He stood thinking in the darkness, wondering which way he had better try.“Any way,” he said at last, “for I will have it; and then if I don’t find my way out of this hole, I’m as stupid as that fellow thinks.”Stretching out his hands to save himself from a blow against any obstacle, he stalked off in as straight a direction as he could go, feeling his way with his feet, and always making sure of firm foothold before he moved the one that was safe, for his one great dread in the vast cavern was lest he should suddenly find himself on the brink of some yawning shaft.He knew little about the district, his ideas of the place being principally confined to what he had seen of the coast-line from the sea, but rugged piles of stone had been pointed out to him here and there as being the refuse of the stone that had been ages before dug and regularly mined by shafts and galleries out of the bowels of the earth; and a little thinking convinced him that he must be shut up in one of those old quarries which had been seized upon by the smugglers as a place to hide their stores.It was a shrewd guess, and he could not help thinking afterwards that it was no wonder that so little success attended the efforts of the revenue cutter’s crew to trace cargoes which had been landed when the smugglers had such lurking places as this.As he crept slowly on, step by step, these and similar thoughts came rapidly through the prisoner’s brain, and as he slowly mounted what seemed to be a pile of fragments, he began to wonder where his prison could be—whether it was close to the shore or some distance inland.He stopped to listen, hoping to hear the breaking of the waves among the rocks, which would have proved what he wished to know at once; but though he listened again and again, he could not distinguish a sound. The only noises he heard were those he made in stepping on one side of some piece of stone, which gave forth a musical clink as it struck another.He was climbing up now what appeared to be a steep slope, over great fragments of stone heavier than he would have been able to lift, and he seemed to creep up and up till he felt assured that the ceiling was just above him, and raising his hand he touched the roof, his fingers tracing out again the great cast of one of the old-world shell-fish—one of the great nautiluses of the geologist.But fossils were unknown things in Archy Raystoke’s day. He was hunting for a lanthorn, not for specimens.As he stood on the highest part of this pile of stone, he hesitated about going farther, and bore off to his left, feeling that in all probability the object of his search had not come so far.From time to time he paused to listen, and at last thought of trying to find the extent of the place by shouting; but he was satisfied with his first essay, his voice going echoing away apparently for a great distance, and the peculiar, dying, whispering sound was not pleasant to one alone in the darkness.After a while, however, as he felt that he was walking over small fragments of stone, he picked up a piece and threw it, to try if he were near the end of the cavern in this direction, for he was growing tired and longed now to find his way to the sailcloth to lie down and rest.The piece he held was about a pound weight, and, drawing back his hand as far as he could reach, he threw it with all his might, to start back in alarm, for it struck wood with a heavy thud, and dropped down almost at his feet.Unknown to himself he had gradually found his way to the pile of kegs, and these he touched the next moment, thinking that, as he stood facing them, the place where he had first come to himself must lie off to his left; and so it proved after a long search, and he sank down so wearied out, that as he chose by preference to lie down, he was before many minutes had elapsed in a deep and dreamless sleep, forgetful of the darkness and any peril that might be ready to assail him next.
“They only want to keep me a prisoner,” said the midshipman half an hour after, as he sat with his mouth full, steadily eating away as a boy of seventeen can eat—“a prisoner till they’ve got all their stuff safe away. They dare not hurt me. I’m not afraid of that, and it’s a very strange thing if I can’t prove myself as clever as that cunning young scoundrel who trapped me here. At all events, I’ll try. They dare not starve me: not they. Wait a bit, and I’ll show them that I’m not so stupid as they think. Shut me up here, would they? Well, we’ll see!”
He went on munching a little longer, then felt for the bottle, took out the tight cork, had a good long draught of the milk it contained, recorked and put it away in the basket with the bread, butter, and ham he had not consumed, shut down the lid, and laughed.
There was nothing very cheerful about his prison to make him laugh, but the reaction was so great—he felt so different after his hearty meal—that he was ready to look any difficulty in the face, and full of wonder at his despondency of a short time before.
There’s a good deal of magic in food to one who is fasting, and is blessed with health and a good appetite.
“Now then,” he said, rising with the basket in his hand, “the first thing is to find a place to stow you;” and he had no difficulty in finding ledge after ledge that would have held the basket, but he wanted one that would be easily found in the darkness.
At last he felt his way to a great mass of rock, upon which, about level with his head, was a projection upon which the basket stood well enough, and trusting to being able to find it again by means of the great block, he turned his attention to the lanthorn.
“If I only had that,” he said to himself.
He stood thinking in the darkness, wondering which way he had better try.
“Any way,” he said at last, “for I will have it; and then if I don’t find my way out of this hole, I’m as stupid as that fellow thinks.”
Stretching out his hands to save himself from a blow against any obstacle, he stalked off in as straight a direction as he could go, feeling his way with his feet, and always making sure of firm foothold before he moved the one that was safe, for his one great dread in the vast cavern was lest he should suddenly find himself on the brink of some yawning shaft.
He knew little about the district, his ideas of the place being principally confined to what he had seen of the coast-line from the sea, but rugged piles of stone had been pointed out to him here and there as being the refuse of the stone that had been ages before dug and regularly mined by shafts and galleries out of the bowels of the earth; and a little thinking convinced him that he must be shut up in one of those old quarries which had been seized upon by the smugglers as a place to hide their stores.
It was a shrewd guess, and he could not help thinking afterwards that it was no wonder that so little success attended the efforts of the revenue cutter’s crew to trace cargoes which had been landed when the smugglers had such lurking places as this.
As he crept slowly on, step by step, these and similar thoughts came rapidly through the prisoner’s brain, and as he slowly mounted what seemed to be a pile of fragments, he began to wonder where his prison could be—whether it was close to the shore or some distance inland.
He stopped to listen, hoping to hear the breaking of the waves among the rocks, which would have proved what he wished to know at once; but though he listened again and again, he could not distinguish a sound. The only noises he heard were those he made in stepping on one side of some piece of stone, which gave forth a musical clink as it struck another.
He was climbing up now what appeared to be a steep slope, over great fragments of stone heavier than he would have been able to lift, and he seemed to creep up and up till he felt assured that the ceiling was just above him, and raising his hand he touched the roof, his fingers tracing out again the great cast of one of the old-world shell-fish—one of the great nautiluses of the geologist.
But fossils were unknown things in Archy Raystoke’s day. He was hunting for a lanthorn, not for specimens.
As he stood on the highest part of this pile of stone, he hesitated about going farther, and bore off to his left, feeling that in all probability the object of his search had not come so far.
From time to time he paused to listen, and at last thought of trying to find the extent of the place by shouting; but he was satisfied with his first essay, his voice going echoing away apparently for a great distance, and the peculiar, dying, whispering sound was not pleasant to one alone in the darkness.
After a while, however, as he felt that he was walking over small fragments of stone, he picked up a piece and threw it, to try if he were near the end of the cavern in this direction, for he was growing tired and longed now to find his way to the sailcloth to lie down and rest.
The piece he held was about a pound weight, and, drawing back his hand as far as he could reach, he threw it with all his might, to start back in alarm, for it struck wood with a heavy thud, and dropped down almost at his feet.
Unknown to himself he had gradually found his way to the pile of kegs, and these he touched the next moment, thinking that, as he stood facing them, the place where he had first come to himself must lie off to his left; and so it proved after a long search, and he sank down so wearied out, that as he chose by preference to lie down, he was before many minutes had elapsed in a deep and dreamless sleep, forgetful of the darkness and any peril that might be ready to assail him next.
Chapter Twenty Two.Whether it was night or day when Archy awoke he could not tell, but he felt rested and refreshed, and ready to try and do something to make his escape.There was a way into his prison, and that way, he vowed, should by some means or other be his way out.The first thing to do was to find that lanthorn, of whose position he seemed to have some vague idea; but, after a little search, he found that all idea of locality had gone, and he had not the slightest idea of the direction to go next.“I must leave it to chance,” he said. “I shall find it when I’m not trying;” and, wearying of the search, he set himself now to try and make his way to the place where his visitors had come into the old quarry.Here, again, he was utterly at fault, for the cavern was so big and irregular, and he was still so haunted by the thought that he might be at any moment on the brink of some deep hole, half full of water, that he dared not search so energetically as he would have liked.He had many narrow escapes from falls and blows against projecting masses of stone, and he found himself, after hours of wandering, so tired and faint, that he would gladly have found the basket and the resting-place; but the more he searched the more convinced he grew of the ease with which he could lose himself entirely in the darkness, and when he did come upon any spot again which he recognised by touch as one that he had felt before, it seemed to him that he stumbled upon it quite by accident, and the moment he left it he was as helpless as before.Wearied out at length, he determined to go in a straight line from where he was to the extremity of the vault; then to curve back, and from this point strike out to the left in search of his resting-place and the basket.It took him just about an hour, and when he had done all this he could find no traces of his food, but he heard a noise close behind him which nailed him to the spot, and he stood motionless, listening.According to his idea, he was at the end of the cave farthest from where his gaolers approached, but unless there were two entrances he was quite wrong, for he had wandered close up to the place whence Ram and Jemmy had come, and, the noise continuing, he stooped down to let whoever it was pass him, while he made for the entrance and slipped out.Directly after there was the soft glow of a lanthorn, which suddenly came into view round a corner, high up by the ceiling, and the bearer began to descend a rough slope.Archy saw no more, for he dropped down and hid behind a stone, watching the glare of light, and then, as it passed him going on toward the other end of the cave, he crept from behind the stone and made for the rough slope, which was thoroughly printed on his mind, so that he could almost picture every rock and inequality that might be in his way.The door would be open, he thought; and, if he could, he would have a clever revenge, for he determined to turn the tables on his enemies, shut them in, and he hoped to make them prisoners till he could signal for help from the cutter, and get a boat’s crew ashore.As he crept on quietly he glanced over his shoulder once, saw the light disappearing behind the great square, squat pillars, and then with a feeling of triumph that thrilled through him, he went cautiously up the rest of the slope, his arms outstretched, his breath held, and in momentary expectation of hearing an exclamation from the other end of the cave.“They’ll think I’m somewhere about,” he said to himself, as he crept on, expecting to pass through an opening into daylight the next moment; but it did not turn out as he anticipated, for he stopped short with his nose against some one’s throat, his arms on each side of a sturdy body, and the arms belonging to that body gripped him tight.“Steady, Ram, lad!” came in a gruff whisper. “Light out?”Archy’s heart beat heavily, and he felt that, to escape, he ought to try and imitate the boy’s voice, and say “Yes.”But he could not only stand panting, and the next instant his opportunity, if opportunity it was, had gone. For Ram’s real voice came from right at the other end, echoing along the roof.“Look out, Jemmy. He aren’t here.”“No, he aren’t there, lad,” said the smuggler with a laugh. “Bring your lanthorn, I’ve ketched a rat or some’at. Come and see.”Archy made a violent struggle to escape, but the man’s arms were tight round his waist, he was lifted off the slope, and as he fully realised that, in a wrestling match, no matter how active and strong seventeen may be, it is no match for big, well-set seven-and-thirty.“No good, youngster,” growled the smuggler, as he carried the midshipman down the slope, and held him at the bottom. “Very good idea, but you see we didn’t mean you to get out like that.”Feeling that he was exhausting himself for nothing, Archy ceased his struggling, and was held there motionless, as Ram came up with the lanthorn to begin grinning.“Bring him along, Jemmy,” he said. “His dinner’s ready.”“Shall I carry him, lad?”“Look here,” cried Archy haughtily. “You two are, I suppose, quite ignorant of the consequences of keeping me here?”“What’s he talking about, Jemmy?” said Ram.“Dunno, lad: something ’bout consequences.”“As soon as it is known that you have seized and kept me here, you will both be arrested, and have to suffer a long term of imprisonment, even if you get no worse off.”“But suppose no one knows you are here?” said Ram.“But it will be known, so I give you both fair warning.”“Thank ye,” said Ram mockingly.“And thank ye for me too, my lad.”“So now, take my advice, open that door, and set me free. If you do this, I’ll promise to intercede for you two, and I daresay I can save you from punishment.”“Well, that’s handsome; isn’t it, Jemmy?” said Ram mockingly.“Do you hear me?” cried Archy.“Oh, I can, quite plain,” said Jemmy.“So can I,” said Ram; “but your dinner’s ready, Mr Orficer; so come and have it.”“Enough of this,” cried Archy, wrenching himself free. “Open that door, and let me go.”“Better carry him, Jemmy.”“If you dare!” cried the angry prisoner, beginning the struggle, but Jemmy Dadd’s muscles were like steel, and he whipped the young midshipman off his feet, and carried him, kicking and struggling with all his might, right along the cave, Ram going first with the lanthorn; and in spite of its feeble, poor, dulled light, the prisoner was able to get a better idea of the shape and size of the place than he had had before.The captive ceased struggling, and keenly watched the various pillars and heaps they passed, noting too how the cavern seemed to extend in a wide passage right on before them, and seemingly endless gloom.“There you are,” said Jemmy, as he set his burden down; “quite at home. Is he going to ask us to dinner, Ram, lad, and send for his skipper to jyne us?”Archy paid no heed to the man’s jeering words, for he was thinking of the place, and trying to fix it all in his memory, for use when these two had gone.He knew that he must have been over the parts he had seen again and again in the darkness, but beyond the memory of the great pillars he had marked, the place had made no impression; but now he had seen the way out, and the way further in, and throwing himself down, he without apparent reason took up a long narrow piece of stone, handled it for a moment or two, and set it down carelessly, but not with so much indifference that he did not contrive that it should act as a rough pointer, ready to indicate the direction of the door.Feeling that it was useless to say more to his gaolers, especially after his attempt to escape, he half lay on the old sail; while, as if the darkness were the same to him as the light, the smuggler said laconically, “Going back!” turned on his heel, and disappeared in the black gloom.“Brought you some bacon and some fried eggs, this time,” said Ram, looking at him attentively, but Archy made no reply.“No use to rile,” continued the boy, “and you can’t get out, so take it easy. Father’ll let you go some day.”“Where is the cutter?” said Archy sharply.“I d’know. Gone.”“Gone?”“Yes, she went off somewhere. To look for you, pr’aps,” said the boy grinning, “or else they think you’re drownded.”“Look here,” said the midshipman suddenly, “you behaved very treacherously to me, but I’ll forgive you if you’ll let me go.”“Look here,” replied the boy, “you behaved very treacherously to us, dressing up, and spying on us; but I’ve got you, and won’t let you go.”“I was doing my duty, sir.”“And I’m doing my dooty—what father telled me.”“How much will you take to let me go?”“How much will you give?” said Ram, grinning, and the midshipman’s heart made a bound.“You shall have five pounds, if you’ll let me go now, at once.”“There’s as much as you’ll eat till I come agen,” said Ram abruptly; “and if I don’t forget you as I did my rabbits once, and they were starved to death, I’ll bring you some more.—I say!”Archy looked at him fiercely.“Don’t try to drink what’s in them tubs. It’s awful strong, and might kill you.”“Stop a moment; leave me a light.”“What do you want with a light? You kicked the last over, and thought you’d get out in the dark. You may have the one you kicked.”“But it is so dark here,” said Archy, as the boy picked up the empty basket.“Course it is when there’s no light,” said the boy coolly; and swinging the lanthorn as he rose, he continued, “You’ll find the road to your mouth, I daresay. I did not bring you a knife, because you’re such a savage one.”“Where is my dirk?”“What d’yer mean? Your little sword?”“Yes.”“Father’s got it all right; said it was a dangerous thing for a boy!”Ram gave his prisoner a nod, and went off whistling, the prisoner following at a distance, and getting pretty close up to the beginning of the slope as the lanthorn disappeared round a corner. Then, as he listened, it seemed to him that the boy climbed up somewhere, talking the while to his companion, their voices sounding hollow and rumbling, then there was a pause, the dull thud of a closing door, the drawing of bolts, and soon the rattling of heavy stones, and once more all was silent.
Whether it was night or day when Archy awoke he could not tell, but he felt rested and refreshed, and ready to try and do something to make his escape.
There was a way into his prison, and that way, he vowed, should by some means or other be his way out.
The first thing to do was to find that lanthorn, of whose position he seemed to have some vague idea; but, after a little search, he found that all idea of locality had gone, and he had not the slightest idea of the direction to go next.
“I must leave it to chance,” he said. “I shall find it when I’m not trying;” and, wearying of the search, he set himself now to try and make his way to the place where his visitors had come into the old quarry.
Here, again, he was utterly at fault, for the cavern was so big and irregular, and he was still so haunted by the thought that he might be at any moment on the brink of some deep hole, half full of water, that he dared not search so energetically as he would have liked.
He had many narrow escapes from falls and blows against projecting masses of stone, and he found himself, after hours of wandering, so tired and faint, that he would gladly have found the basket and the resting-place; but the more he searched the more convinced he grew of the ease with which he could lose himself entirely in the darkness, and when he did come upon any spot again which he recognised by touch as one that he had felt before, it seemed to him that he stumbled upon it quite by accident, and the moment he left it he was as helpless as before.
Wearied out at length, he determined to go in a straight line from where he was to the extremity of the vault; then to curve back, and from this point strike out to the left in search of his resting-place and the basket.
It took him just about an hour, and when he had done all this he could find no traces of his food, but he heard a noise close behind him which nailed him to the spot, and he stood motionless, listening.
According to his idea, he was at the end of the cave farthest from where his gaolers approached, but unless there were two entrances he was quite wrong, for he had wandered close up to the place whence Ram and Jemmy had come, and, the noise continuing, he stooped down to let whoever it was pass him, while he made for the entrance and slipped out.
Directly after there was the soft glow of a lanthorn, which suddenly came into view round a corner, high up by the ceiling, and the bearer began to descend a rough slope.
Archy saw no more, for he dropped down and hid behind a stone, watching the glare of light, and then, as it passed him going on toward the other end of the cave, he crept from behind the stone and made for the rough slope, which was thoroughly printed on his mind, so that he could almost picture every rock and inequality that might be in his way.
The door would be open, he thought; and, if he could, he would have a clever revenge, for he determined to turn the tables on his enemies, shut them in, and he hoped to make them prisoners till he could signal for help from the cutter, and get a boat’s crew ashore.
As he crept on quietly he glanced over his shoulder once, saw the light disappearing behind the great square, squat pillars, and then with a feeling of triumph that thrilled through him, he went cautiously up the rest of the slope, his arms outstretched, his breath held, and in momentary expectation of hearing an exclamation from the other end of the cave.
“They’ll think I’m somewhere about,” he said to himself, as he crept on, expecting to pass through an opening into daylight the next moment; but it did not turn out as he anticipated, for he stopped short with his nose against some one’s throat, his arms on each side of a sturdy body, and the arms belonging to that body gripped him tight.
“Steady, Ram, lad!” came in a gruff whisper. “Light out?”
Archy’s heart beat heavily, and he felt that, to escape, he ought to try and imitate the boy’s voice, and say “Yes.”
But he could not only stand panting, and the next instant his opportunity, if opportunity it was, had gone. For Ram’s real voice came from right at the other end, echoing along the roof.
“Look out, Jemmy. He aren’t here.”
“No, he aren’t there, lad,” said the smuggler with a laugh. “Bring your lanthorn, I’ve ketched a rat or some’at. Come and see.”
Archy made a violent struggle to escape, but the man’s arms were tight round his waist, he was lifted off the slope, and as he fully realised that, in a wrestling match, no matter how active and strong seventeen may be, it is no match for big, well-set seven-and-thirty.
“No good, youngster,” growled the smuggler, as he carried the midshipman down the slope, and held him at the bottom. “Very good idea, but you see we didn’t mean you to get out like that.”
Feeling that he was exhausting himself for nothing, Archy ceased his struggling, and was held there motionless, as Ram came up with the lanthorn to begin grinning.
“Bring him along, Jemmy,” he said. “His dinner’s ready.”
“Shall I carry him, lad?”
“Look here,” cried Archy haughtily. “You two are, I suppose, quite ignorant of the consequences of keeping me here?”
“What’s he talking about, Jemmy?” said Ram.
“Dunno, lad: something ’bout consequences.”
“As soon as it is known that you have seized and kept me here, you will both be arrested, and have to suffer a long term of imprisonment, even if you get no worse off.”
“But suppose no one knows you are here?” said Ram.
“But it will be known, so I give you both fair warning.”
“Thank ye,” said Ram mockingly.
“And thank ye for me too, my lad.”
“So now, take my advice, open that door, and set me free. If you do this, I’ll promise to intercede for you two, and I daresay I can save you from punishment.”
“Well, that’s handsome; isn’t it, Jemmy?” said Ram mockingly.
“Do you hear me?” cried Archy.
“Oh, I can, quite plain,” said Jemmy.
“So can I,” said Ram; “but your dinner’s ready, Mr Orficer; so come and have it.”
“Enough of this,” cried Archy, wrenching himself free. “Open that door, and let me go.”
“Better carry him, Jemmy.”
“If you dare!” cried the angry prisoner, beginning the struggle, but Jemmy Dadd’s muscles were like steel, and he whipped the young midshipman off his feet, and carried him, kicking and struggling with all his might, right along the cave, Ram going first with the lanthorn; and in spite of its feeble, poor, dulled light, the prisoner was able to get a better idea of the shape and size of the place than he had had before.
The captive ceased struggling, and keenly watched the various pillars and heaps they passed, noting too how the cavern seemed to extend in a wide passage right on before them, and seemingly endless gloom.
“There you are,” said Jemmy, as he set his burden down; “quite at home. Is he going to ask us to dinner, Ram, lad, and send for his skipper to jyne us?”
Archy paid no heed to the man’s jeering words, for he was thinking of the place, and trying to fix it all in his memory, for use when these two had gone.
He knew that he must have been over the parts he had seen again and again in the darkness, but beyond the memory of the great pillars he had marked, the place had made no impression; but now he had seen the way out, and the way further in, and throwing himself down, he without apparent reason took up a long narrow piece of stone, handled it for a moment or two, and set it down carelessly, but not with so much indifference that he did not contrive that it should act as a rough pointer, ready to indicate the direction of the door.
Feeling that it was useless to say more to his gaolers, especially after his attempt to escape, he half lay on the old sail; while, as if the darkness were the same to him as the light, the smuggler said laconically, “Going back!” turned on his heel, and disappeared in the black gloom.
“Brought you some bacon and some fried eggs, this time,” said Ram, looking at him attentively, but Archy made no reply.
“No use to rile,” continued the boy, “and you can’t get out, so take it easy. Father’ll let you go some day.”
“Where is the cutter?” said Archy sharply.
“I d’know. Gone.”
“Gone?”
“Yes, she went off somewhere. To look for you, pr’aps,” said the boy grinning, “or else they think you’re drownded.”
“Look here,” said the midshipman suddenly, “you behaved very treacherously to me, but I’ll forgive you if you’ll let me go.”
“Look here,” replied the boy, “you behaved very treacherously to us, dressing up, and spying on us; but I’ve got you, and won’t let you go.”
“I was doing my duty, sir.”
“And I’m doing my dooty—what father telled me.”
“How much will you take to let me go?”
“How much will you give?” said Ram, grinning, and the midshipman’s heart made a bound.
“You shall have five pounds, if you’ll let me go now, at once.”
“There’s as much as you’ll eat till I come agen,” said Ram abruptly; “and if I don’t forget you as I did my rabbits once, and they were starved to death, I’ll bring you some more.—I say!”
Archy looked at him fiercely.
“Don’t try to drink what’s in them tubs. It’s awful strong, and might kill you.”
“Stop a moment; leave me a light.”
“What do you want with a light? You kicked the last over, and thought you’d get out in the dark. You may have the one you kicked.”
“But it is so dark here,” said Archy, as the boy picked up the empty basket.
“Course it is when there’s no light,” said the boy coolly; and swinging the lanthorn as he rose, he continued, “You’ll find the road to your mouth, I daresay. I did not bring you a knife, because you’re such a savage one.”
“Where is my dirk?”
“What d’yer mean? Your little sword?”
“Yes.”
“Father’s got it all right; said it was a dangerous thing for a boy!”
Ram gave his prisoner a nod, and went off whistling, the prisoner following at a distance, and getting pretty close up to the beginning of the slope as the lanthorn disappeared round a corner. Then, as he listened, it seemed to him that the boy climbed up somewhere, talking the while to his companion, their voices sounding hollow and rumbling, then there was a pause, the dull thud of a closing door, the drawing of bolts, and soon the rattling of heavy stones, and once more all was silent.
Chapter Twenty Three.A strange depressing sensation came over the young prisoner as he stood there once more alone, but he turned sharply round with his teeth set, thought for a few moments about his course back, and then, feeling more determined and firm, walked slowly on, and to his great delight found that it was possible to become educated to do without sight, for, each time that he thought he was near a pillar, he stretched out his hand to find that he touched it, and with very little difficulty he walked straight up to the old sail, felt about, and there was the basket of food, which he attacked at once, and soon after fell asleep.Four more visits were paid him by Ram, but whether they were at intervals of days or half days, the prisoner could not tell, for any questions he asked were laughingly evaded, and all attempts at persuasion and bribery proved useless.He did learn that the cutter had just returned and gone away again. And it seemed to him that he was forgotten, but he never thoroughly lost heart, and during this time he had accustomed himself to the darkness, and educated his feet wonderfully in the topography of the place.Of one thing he had fully satisfied himself, and that was the hopelessness of getting out by the way his visitors came in. They were too cautious ever to leave the door unguarded; hence the prisoner felt that if he knocked down and stunned the frank, good-tempered boy who seemed disposed to be the best of friends in every way but that of helping him to escape, he would be no nearer freedom than before.He had gone up the slope twice, and the last time crept near enough to see that Ram was climbing up a well-like shaft by means of rugged projections in the wall, that as he got about twenty feet up he handed the lanthorn to the man, climbed out through a square opening, and then a trap-door was shut down, locked, and bolted, and what sounded to be a number of heavy pieces of stone were drawn over.As far as he could judge, after venturing up and nearly having a severe fall in the darkness, escape was impossible that way, so he returned after each trial to think, and come to the conclusion that if the place had been used for the purpose of digging out stone, of which there could be no doubt, there must be some other way by which the great pieces had been dragged up to daylight.With a lanthorn or torch he might easily have satisfied himself upon this point. To achieve it without was a terribly risky task.Still he determined to try, and after a hasty meal, directly his gaolers had paid their last visit, he started off in the opposite direction to that which led to the trap-door, and proceeding cautiously, taking the precaution to keep on throwing pieces of stone before him, to satisfy himself that there was no well or pit in his way, he went on and on.Now he threw a piece of stone to his left hand, to his right, and after going many yards at what was but a snail’s pace, he discovered that the place had suddenly contracted, and after creeping a little farther, the place was more contracted still, and ascended. So narrowed was it now that a couple of steps in either direction enabled him to touch a wall, while about twenty short paces farther on the ascent grew much more straight, and there was no fear of a pit or shaft in the way, for he found that roughly square blocks of stone were laid like a flight of steps, up which he clambered, and then sunk down, overcome by the feeling of joy which had flooded his brain.He must have come up quite fifty feet after ascending the slope along which he had walked, and here he was at the top of the flight of clumsy stairs on a kind of platform of rugged stones, and straight before him there was a chink so narrow that he could not have thrust a hand through it, but wide enough to allow the passage of a gleam of light; there was a familiar odour, too, of salt air and seaweed, and as he placed his ear to the chink he could hear, as if far below, the wash of water.“Why, this must be at the side of the cliff,” he said joyously; and if he could enlarge that crack there would be a way out to the face of the rocks, where it would go hard with him indeed if he could not climb up to the grassy fields above, or down to the shore below.“Why didn’t I try this before?” he cried. “Oh, how foolish! Not get out, eh? I’ll soon show them that;” and he began to feel about carefully all over the face of the stones before him, to satisfy himself before long that there had been a large roughly square opening here, which had been filled in with some pieces of stone, between which he could feel that there was mortar.“Now, then, what I want is a good marlinspike or an iron bar. Oh, if I had my dirk here I could move them with that.”But he had neither bar, marlinspike, nor dirk, nothing but his hands and a small pocket-knife, so a depressing feeling of vexation humbled him for a time.He soon cast that off though, for it was impossible to feel low spirited in the face of such a discovery, and before commencing the task he had in hand he knelt down with his face close to the chink to drink in the delicious sea air.“I wonder how long I shall be a prisoner,” he said aloud; and he laughed, for he could see no difficulties now. Still they began to appear soon after, and the first one he mentally saw was the coming of Ram with his food. He must know the place thoroughly, as he had shown by the care with which he threaded his way among the loose stones and pillars, and if he came with his lanthorn and missed him, he might walk up there and find him at work.“I’ll be careful,” he said to himself; and taking out his knife forcing himself to believe that it was about twelve o’clock each day that the lad came, and if so, as it was about six hours, as near as he could guess, since the basket was brought, he had about a couple of hours more daylight, then the long night and all the morning, before his gaoler would come again.He bitterly regretted now not having tried to time Ram’s visits, forgetting that it would have been impossible to do so without light, and, unable to restrain his impatience to the extent of waiting till he came again, and watching for night from then, he went to work to try and loosen a stone by the side of the crevice, and toiled away till at the end of what seemed to be two hours, the light through the crevice paled, grew dull, then dark, and for the first time for many days he knew that it was night.Cheered by his calculation being so far right, he worked and scraped out the mortar, satisfied even with getting away the tiniest scraps, feeling as he did that if he could only dislodge one stone he could bring up from below plenty of great and splinter-shaped pieces with which he could hammer, and take out the rest, or enough for his body to pass through.So light-hearted did he feel, as guiding the point of his knife by his fingers, he picked and scraped away, that he began to hum a tune over softly. It was as black now as it was in the deepest part of the ancient quarry, but that did not seem to matter, for it was only the darkness of evening, and if he waited there and kept on working, he would see, first of all, a long pallid ray that would grow brighter, and bring as it were some light and hope, while as soon as he could get out a stone he would be able to see the sea, perhaps even make out the cutter, and signal.No: the boy had said that it was gone. But it would come back, and they would see his signals; a boat would come ashore, he would be fetched out of this miserable black hole; the smugglers would be captured, and he would have such a revenge on that boy Ram. It would be glorious.But all depended upon littleifs—ifhe could get out the stone,ifthe hole happened to be opposite the spot where the cutter was moored,ifthey could see his signals.It was discouraging to have such thoughts as these, but Archy Raystoke had been for days condemned to inactivity, and the opportunity of working at something definite which proffered a way of escape made him toil on with all his his might.In fact, he was obliged to check himself, for his task needed care. Too much exercise of the strength which had been growing latent might mean breaking his knife, and the destruction of his hopes.So he toiled on well into the night, picking and loosening tiny scraps of mortar, which, hard though it was, had fortunately for him been made of an exceedingly coarse sand, or rather very fine shingle, whose tiny pebbles formed each a point to work upon till it was loosened and fell.Archy’s first thought was to work right on through the night, but the monotonous task in the darkness, and the fatigue and excitement, combined to produce their customary effect, and he found himself nodding and starting into wakefulness so many times over, that he resolved at last to go back to his starting-place, have a good meal, and then come back.He left his task with reluctance, but nature would not be refused, and without much difficulty he found his way to the basket, ate heartily, sat still to think a few minutes, and thought too much, starting up suddenly and rubbing his eyes.“How stupid of me!” he exclaimed. “I must have just nodded off to sleep. Nearly wasted a lot of time.”Afraid to remain where he was, lest he should yield to the temptation again and fall dead asleep, he eagerly made his way back to the slope and the rough steps, to stand there wondering as he got to the top.For there, straight before him, was a pale ray of light, and the place smelt cool and fresh.Surely a star or the moon must be up, he thought, as he knelt down and resumed his task, feeling somehow a good deal rested.The explanation was not long in coming, for to his astonishment the ray of light grew brighter and brighter, and broadened out full of dancing motes when he had been an hour at work, teaching him that he had not dropped off to sleep for a minute or two, but long enough to give him a good night’s rest sufficient to prepare him for the toil to come.He felt vexed and called it laziness, working the harder to recover lost time, and as the hours glided by listening intently for the slightest sound from the quarry below that should indicate the coming of Ram with his daily portion of food.On previous days he had looked forward to the lad’s approach as something that would break the monotony of his captivity, but now he would have given anything to have known that by some accident the lad would be kept away.Still Archy toiled on, the stone he had attacked as tight as ever, but quite a little heap of rough mortar increasing beneath where he knelt.“It’s only getting out the first one,” he argued; “the others will come easily enough.”And so, full of hope, he kept on, till feeling that it must be near the time for the visit, he reluctantly closed his pocket-knife and went down, gazing back first at the tiny ray of light which pointed the way to liberty.His arms ached and his fingers were sore. There was a blister too in the palm of his hand where the knife had pressed; but these were trifles now, and he seated himself in his old spot ready to receive his visitors, and so full of hope that he could hardly refrain from shouting for joy.He could see it all, now. This was quite an ancient mine, one perhaps from which all the best stone had been worked. Where Ram came down was the land entrance, and the ray of light marked the opening in the face of the cliff, from which the pieces of stone had been lowered down into boats or ships below. After the smugglers had taken possession it seemed probable that they had filled up the hole in the cliff face, though it struck Archy that this would leave them a handy place to get their cargoes ashore if they had tackle to haul it up, and get it into their store at once.The time seemed very long before the rattle and rumble of the stones on the trap-door struck upon Archy’s listening ear, but at last, after he had convinced himself that he might have worked two or three hours longer, there it was, and then came the rattle of the bolts and the sharp sound of the lock. Directly afterwards there was a soft glare, the lanthorn appeared like some creature of light swaying and floating towards him in the darkness till it stopped close by, and Ram’s now familiar voice exclaimed,—“Hullo there! Getting hungry?”“Yes,” said Archy, in a voice he wished to sound surly and obstinate, but which in spite of his wishes had a cheerful ring, which affected Ram, who began to laugh and chatter.“Nice to be you,” he said. “Get all the good things, you do. Fried fish to-day, and pork pie. I say, midshipman, you have got into good quarters, you have.”Archy tried to seem sulky.“Oh, you needn’t talk without you like, but they didn’t feed you up aboard ship like you’re getting it now, I know; salt beef, then salt pork, and hard biscuits. Why, it’s like fattening up one of our pigs for Christmas. I say, you are quiet. Haven’t been at one of them little kegs, have you? Oh, very well; if you don’t like to talk, I can’t make you.”“Are you going to let me out of this place?” said the midshipman, so as to keep up the idea of his longing to be set free, and chase any suspicions of his having discovered a way out.“When I get orders, Mr Orsifer, and not before. I aren’t skipper, no more nor you are.”“Another piece of insolence,” thought the prisoner. “Oh, how I will pay him out for this by and by!”“Aren’t you going to peck?”Archy took no notice, and at last there came, in a deep, echoing growl through the place,—“Say, lad, going to be all day?”“Coming, Jemmy,” Ram shouted. “Want anything else, midshipman?”“Yes, you to go and not worry me,” replied Archy, heartily repenting his words the next moment for fear that they should excite suspicion.But they did not, for Ram only laughed and walked away.
A strange depressing sensation came over the young prisoner as he stood there once more alone, but he turned sharply round with his teeth set, thought for a few moments about his course back, and then, feeling more determined and firm, walked slowly on, and to his great delight found that it was possible to become educated to do without sight, for, each time that he thought he was near a pillar, he stretched out his hand to find that he touched it, and with very little difficulty he walked straight up to the old sail, felt about, and there was the basket of food, which he attacked at once, and soon after fell asleep.
Four more visits were paid him by Ram, but whether they were at intervals of days or half days, the prisoner could not tell, for any questions he asked were laughingly evaded, and all attempts at persuasion and bribery proved useless.
He did learn that the cutter had just returned and gone away again. And it seemed to him that he was forgotten, but he never thoroughly lost heart, and during this time he had accustomed himself to the darkness, and educated his feet wonderfully in the topography of the place.
Of one thing he had fully satisfied himself, and that was the hopelessness of getting out by the way his visitors came in. They were too cautious ever to leave the door unguarded; hence the prisoner felt that if he knocked down and stunned the frank, good-tempered boy who seemed disposed to be the best of friends in every way but that of helping him to escape, he would be no nearer freedom than before.
He had gone up the slope twice, and the last time crept near enough to see that Ram was climbing up a well-like shaft by means of rugged projections in the wall, that as he got about twenty feet up he handed the lanthorn to the man, climbed out through a square opening, and then a trap-door was shut down, locked, and bolted, and what sounded to be a number of heavy pieces of stone were drawn over.
As far as he could judge, after venturing up and nearly having a severe fall in the darkness, escape was impossible that way, so he returned after each trial to think, and come to the conclusion that if the place had been used for the purpose of digging out stone, of which there could be no doubt, there must be some other way by which the great pieces had been dragged up to daylight.
With a lanthorn or torch he might easily have satisfied himself upon this point. To achieve it without was a terribly risky task.
Still he determined to try, and after a hasty meal, directly his gaolers had paid their last visit, he started off in the opposite direction to that which led to the trap-door, and proceeding cautiously, taking the precaution to keep on throwing pieces of stone before him, to satisfy himself that there was no well or pit in his way, he went on and on.
Now he threw a piece of stone to his left hand, to his right, and after going many yards at what was but a snail’s pace, he discovered that the place had suddenly contracted, and after creeping a little farther, the place was more contracted still, and ascended. So narrowed was it now that a couple of steps in either direction enabled him to touch a wall, while about twenty short paces farther on the ascent grew much more straight, and there was no fear of a pit or shaft in the way, for he found that roughly square blocks of stone were laid like a flight of steps, up which he clambered, and then sunk down, overcome by the feeling of joy which had flooded his brain.
He must have come up quite fifty feet after ascending the slope along which he had walked, and here he was at the top of the flight of clumsy stairs on a kind of platform of rugged stones, and straight before him there was a chink so narrow that he could not have thrust a hand through it, but wide enough to allow the passage of a gleam of light; there was a familiar odour, too, of salt air and seaweed, and as he placed his ear to the chink he could hear, as if far below, the wash of water.
“Why, this must be at the side of the cliff,” he said joyously; and if he could enlarge that crack there would be a way out to the face of the rocks, where it would go hard with him indeed if he could not climb up to the grassy fields above, or down to the shore below.
“Why didn’t I try this before?” he cried. “Oh, how foolish! Not get out, eh? I’ll soon show them that;” and he began to feel about carefully all over the face of the stones before him, to satisfy himself before long that there had been a large roughly square opening here, which had been filled in with some pieces of stone, between which he could feel that there was mortar.
“Now, then, what I want is a good marlinspike or an iron bar. Oh, if I had my dirk here I could move them with that.”
But he had neither bar, marlinspike, nor dirk, nothing but his hands and a small pocket-knife, so a depressing feeling of vexation humbled him for a time.
He soon cast that off though, for it was impossible to feel low spirited in the face of such a discovery, and before commencing the task he had in hand he knelt down with his face close to the chink to drink in the delicious sea air.
“I wonder how long I shall be a prisoner,” he said aloud; and he laughed, for he could see no difficulties now. Still they began to appear soon after, and the first one he mentally saw was the coming of Ram with his food. He must know the place thoroughly, as he had shown by the care with which he threaded his way among the loose stones and pillars, and if he came with his lanthorn and missed him, he might walk up there and find him at work.
“I’ll be careful,” he said to himself; and taking out his knife forcing himself to believe that it was about twelve o’clock each day that the lad came, and if so, as it was about six hours, as near as he could guess, since the basket was brought, he had about a couple of hours more daylight, then the long night and all the morning, before his gaoler would come again.
He bitterly regretted now not having tried to time Ram’s visits, forgetting that it would have been impossible to do so without light, and, unable to restrain his impatience to the extent of waiting till he came again, and watching for night from then, he went to work to try and loosen a stone by the side of the crevice, and toiled away till at the end of what seemed to be two hours, the light through the crevice paled, grew dull, then dark, and for the first time for many days he knew that it was night.
Cheered by his calculation being so far right, he worked and scraped out the mortar, satisfied even with getting away the tiniest scraps, feeling as he did that if he could only dislodge one stone he could bring up from below plenty of great and splinter-shaped pieces with which he could hammer, and take out the rest, or enough for his body to pass through.
So light-hearted did he feel, as guiding the point of his knife by his fingers, he picked and scraped away, that he began to hum a tune over softly. It was as black now as it was in the deepest part of the ancient quarry, but that did not seem to matter, for it was only the darkness of evening, and if he waited there and kept on working, he would see, first of all, a long pallid ray that would grow brighter, and bring as it were some light and hope, while as soon as he could get out a stone he would be able to see the sea, perhaps even make out the cutter, and signal.
No: the boy had said that it was gone. But it would come back, and they would see his signals; a boat would come ashore, he would be fetched out of this miserable black hole; the smugglers would be captured, and he would have such a revenge on that boy Ram. It would be glorious.
But all depended upon littleifs—ifhe could get out the stone,ifthe hole happened to be opposite the spot where the cutter was moored,ifthey could see his signals.
It was discouraging to have such thoughts as these, but Archy Raystoke had been for days condemned to inactivity, and the opportunity of working at something definite which proffered a way of escape made him toil on with all his his might.
In fact, he was obliged to check himself, for his task needed care. Too much exercise of the strength which had been growing latent might mean breaking his knife, and the destruction of his hopes.
So he toiled on well into the night, picking and loosening tiny scraps of mortar, which, hard though it was, had fortunately for him been made of an exceedingly coarse sand, or rather very fine shingle, whose tiny pebbles formed each a point to work upon till it was loosened and fell.
Archy’s first thought was to work right on through the night, but the monotonous task in the darkness, and the fatigue and excitement, combined to produce their customary effect, and he found himself nodding and starting into wakefulness so many times over, that he resolved at last to go back to his starting-place, have a good meal, and then come back.
He left his task with reluctance, but nature would not be refused, and without much difficulty he found his way to the basket, ate heartily, sat still to think a few minutes, and thought too much, starting up suddenly and rubbing his eyes.
“How stupid of me!” he exclaimed. “I must have just nodded off to sleep. Nearly wasted a lot of time.”
Afraid to remain where he was, lest he should yield to the temptation again and fall dead asleep, he eagerly made his way back to the slope and the rough steps, to stand there wondering as he got to the top.
For there, straight before him, was a pale ray of light, and the place smelt cool and fresh.
Surely a star or the moon must be up, he thought, as he knelt down and resumed his task, feeling somehow a good deal rested.
The explanation was not long in coming, for to his astonishment the ray of light grew brighter and brighter, and broadened out full of dancing motes when he had been an hour at work, teaching him that he had not dropped off to sleep for a minute or two, but long enough to give him a good night’s rest sufficient to prepare him for the toil to come.
He felt vexed and called it laziness, working the harder to recover lost time, and as the hours glided by listening intently for the slightest sound from the quarry below that should indicate the coming of Ram with his daily portion of food.
On previous days he had looked forward to the lad’s approach as something that would break the monotony of his captivity, but now he would have given anything to have known that by some accident the lad would be kept away.
Still Archy toiled on, the stone he had attacked as tight as ever, but quite a little heap of rough mortar increasing beneath where he knelt.
“It’s only getting out the first one,” he argued; “the others will come easily enough.”
And so, full of hope, he kept on, till feeling that it must be near the time for the visit, he reluctantly closed his pocket-knife and went down, gazing back first at the tiny ray of light which pointed the way to liberty.
His arms ached and his fingers were sore. There was a blister too in the palm of his hand where the knife had pressed; but these were trifles now, and he seated himself in his old spot ready to receive his visitors, and so full of hope that he could hardly refrain from shouting for joy.
He could see it all, now. This was quite an ancient mine, one perhaps from which all the best stone had been worked. Where Ram came down was the land entrance, and the ray of light marked the opening in the face of the cliff, from which the pieces of stone had been lowered down into boats or ships below. After the smugglers had taken possession it seemed probable that they had filled up the hole in the cliff face, though it struck Archy that this would leave them a handy place to get their cargoes ashore if they had tackle to haul it up, and get it into their store at once.
The time seemed very long before the rattle and rumble of the stones on the trap-door struck upon Archy’s listening ear, but at last, after he had convinced himself that he might have worked two or three hours longer, there it was, and then came the rattle of the bolts and the sharp sound of the lock. Directly afterwards there was a soft glare, the lanthorn appeared like some creature of light swaying and floating towards him in the darkness till it stopped close by, and Ram’s now familiar voice exclaimed,—
“Hullo there! Getting hungry?”
“Yes,” said Archy, in a voice he wished to sound surly and obstinate, but which in spite of his wishes had a cheerful ring, which affected Ram, who began to laugh and chatter.
“Nice to be you,” he said. “Get all the good things, you do. Fried fish to-day, and pork pie. I say, midshipman, you have got into good quarters, you have.”
Archy tried to seem sulky.
“Oh, you needn’t talk without you like, but they didn’t feed you up aboard ship like you’re getting it now, I know; salt beef, then salt pork, and hard biscuits. Why, it’s like fattening up one of our pigs for Christmas. I say, you are quiet. Haven’t been at one of them little kegs, have you? Oh, very well; if you don’t like to talk, I can’t make you.”
“Are you going to let me out of this place?” said the midshipman, so as to keep up the idea of his longing to be set free, and chase any suspicions of his having discovered a way out.
“When I get orders, Mr Orsifer, and not before. I aren’t skipper, no more nor you are.”
“Another piece of insolence,” thought the prisoner. “Oh, how I will pay him out for this by and by!”
“Aren’t you going to peck?”
Archy took no notice, and at last there came, in a deep, echoing growl through the place,—
“Say, lad, going to be all day?”
“Coming, Jemmy,” Ram shouted. “Want anything else, midshipman?”
“Yes, you to go and not worry me,” replied Archy, heartily repenting his words the next moment for fear that they should excite suspicion.
But they did not, for Ram only laughed and walked away.
Chapter Twenty Four.As the prisoner sat listening to the bang of the trap-door and the rattling of the bolts, he could hardly contain himself. But knowing the danger of the boy coming back and finding him gone, he forced himself to stay where he was; and to pass away the time he opened the basket Ram had now left in place of the other, and forced himself to eat.But he could hardly swallow the food, which seemed tasteless in the extreme, and he was about to give up and hasten back to his work when his heart leaped, for there was the distant sound of the bolts being drawn, and a minute or two later the soft yellow light came slowly towards him and stopped.“Just remembered,” said its bearer. “Got half way home first, though. Mother said I was to be sure and take back that basket. Put the stuff out on the sail. Hullo, what you been doing to your hands?”Archy started guiltily, and looked at them in the light to see that they were covered with blood, from injuries that he had made unconsciously in toiling with his knife against the stones.“Tumbled down?” continued Ram without waiting for an answer. “Well, ’tis dark ’mong these stones. I used to trip over them, but I could go anywhere now in the dark. Seem to feel like when they are near. Never mind, tear up yer hankychy and wrap round. I’ll bring you one o’ mine next time I come. There we are. Haven’t forgot the basket this time. I say?”“Well?”The lad was ten yards away now, holding the lanthorn above his head.“You lost a chance.”“What do you mean?”“Jemmy Dadd isn’t up by the door. You might have given me a topper with a stone, and run away; too late now.”He ran off laughing, and holding the lanthorn down low to make sure of his way.But Archy did not start up in pursuit. He saw a better way out now, and waiting till he felt convinced that the boy must be well on his way home, he jumped up, felt his way to the crevice, and was soon after hard at work picking the mortar from between the stones.Now and then, as he grew faint and weary, it seemed to him that he had made no progress, but the little heap of mortar told different tales, and once more taking heart he toiled away.It seemed a very easy thing to do, to loosen one stone in a rugged wall, draw it out, and then remove the other, but in practice it appeared almost impossible, and again going back into the quarry to partake of the food that was absolutely necessary, Archy returned to his task, and after working away again for about half an hour he fell fast asleep.How long he slept he did not know, but he started awake again to find that it was quite dark, and he kept on like one in a dream.The stone seemed as fast as ever, and his progress was getting very slow now, for he had cleared away the mortar as fast as he could reach in; but at last, seizing the stone and getting his fingers well in the joint, he gave it a vigorous shove, and then uttered a shout of triumph, for to his delight there came a sharp crack, and after giving a vigorous shove, the stone, which was about twenty inches long, was drawn out, and became the instrument for dislodging its fellows.This was comparatively easy now, and in the course of the next two days the prisoner had loosened and drawn out stones till he had made a way through a rough piece of wall six feet thick, and had enlarged the hole so that there was room to creep into the opening he had made and look out.Here came disappointment the first. The wall he had worked through did not face out to sea, but was one side of a chasm, and he gazed at the opposite side.Soon after he learned that this had not been the place where the stones were carried out for landing in boats, but the hole through which all the refuse was discharged, to fall in a crumbling heap a tremendous distance below, to be washed away by the waves which curved over and over against the foot and rolled up into the chasm.Still he worked on, enlarging the hole and sending the broken pieces and mortar, rattling down the face of the cliff into the sea, till there was nothing to hinder his crawling out at any time, and either getting to the top of the cliff or down below to the shore.He decided for the former as the more easy and the less likely to suggest peril, and he spent the next few hours after cleansing himself as much as possible, so as not to excite the attention of his young gaoler, and in his efforts to do this he made use of a piece of sailcloth, and an end of a coil of rope which lay with some sea-going tackle hard by where he slept.The day had come at last when the way was open, and he had but to creep out into the fresh bright sunshine and run for his liberty.He could hardly refrain from doing so at once, but his long and arduous labour, which had taken the skin from his fingers and left his whole hands so tender that he hardly dared to touch anything, had taught him some wisdom, especially not to throw away the opportunity for which he had worked so hard.And now he sat there in the darkness, wafting, so exultant that his seat might have been a throne, instead of a worn-out sail stretched over a mass of stone. He hugged the knees upon which his chin rested, and gazed straight before him into the blackness, watching for the first glow of Ram’s lanthorn, and seeing as he watched the glorious sky, the blue sea all a-ripple; the shimmer and play of a passing shoal of fish; gulls floating without effort, now high up, now low down, their breasts of purest white, their backs of delicate grey, and their wondering eyes gazing at the rough-looking fisher-lad who crept out of a hole in the face of the cliff, made his way from shelf to shelf, ever up and up till he was on the grass at the top, where he lay down to wait till night for fear of being seen and dragged back.The black darkness of the great cavern quarry was all alight now with the pictures his mind painted, and, in his delight and satisfaction, he laughed aloud as he thought of Ram’s disappointment on coming one day and finding his prisoner flown.It was hard work to keep from starting at once, but the midshipman felt that if he did, his escape would be discovered at any moment, and if it were, it was only a question of time before he would have the whole smuggling gang after him, and he would be hunted down to a lot ten times more bitter from the fact of his having failure to contemplate, and form his mental food.The rattle at last. The door dragged up, and Ram was not alone, for his voice could be heard in conversation with Jemmy Dadd.The boy was in capital spirits, and he was whistling merrily, his shrill notes echoing from the flat roof as he came on swinging his lanthorn in one hand, the basket in the other.“Sleep?” he said, as he saw Archy’s attitude. “There you are,” he continued. “I know you weren’t asleep, and if you don’t like to talk it aren’t my fault. Want anything else?”No reply; Archy dare not speak.“Oh, very well,” he said, “you can do as you like. Where’s t’other basket?”A shiver ran through the prisoner as he recollected that which he had forgotten in his excitement: the basket which he had taken with some of the food therein, ready for his use as he worked, was standing by the opening at the top of the steps, and he cast an anxious glance sidewise in the direction of the passage, in dread lest the boy should detect the light shining down.He need not have been alarmed, for there was not a ray visible, and even if there had been, the light cast by the opened lanthorn would have hidden it; but he sat there trembling all the same, and with a curious sensation of suffocation rising in his throat, as he softly altered his position and loosened his hands, ready to make a spring at his enemy if it should become necessary.“Well, I do call that grumpy. Keeps on bringing you nuts, and you’re so snarky that you won’t so much as give one back the shells. Now, then, where’s that basket?”Archy felt that he must speak, or else the boy would go in search of it.“I haven’t done with it.”“But I want it to take back.”“It has some of the dinner in it.”“Well, then, let’s empty it out.”“No,” said Archy, sitting up angrily; “you can’t have it now.”“Oh,” said Ram, “that’s it, is it? Suppose I say I will have it?”“If you don’t take yourself off,” cried Archy, “I’ll break your head with one of these pieces of stone.”“Two can play at that game.”“Be off.”“I shan’t. I want our basket. Mother said I was to bring it back.”“Tell her you haven’t got it.”“Now, look here,” cried Ram, “if you don’t give me that basket back, I won’t bring you what I was going to bring to-morrow. Where is it?”“Where I put it. You contemptible young smuggling thief! How dare you come worrying a gentleman about a dirty old basket!”“Wasn’t dirty, for mother scrubbed it out before she’d send it to you. Where is it?”Desperate now in his fix, and feeling that his only resource to keep Ram from searching for the basket with his lanthorn was to keep up this show of anger, Archy made a snatch at a long splinter of stone, and started up menacingly.“Oh, that’s it, is it?” cried Ram, who stood upon his guard, but did not appear in the least bit alarmed. “Fed you too well, have I? Had too many oats, and you’re beginning to kick up your heels and squeak and snort. Never mind, I’ll soon make you civil again. Going to give me that basket?”“No.”“Then you shan’t have this. There!” cried Ram, and snatching up the one he had brought, he walked straight away, swinging his lanthorn after he had shut it with a snap.“Going to give it to me?” he cried, as he stopped about half way to the trap-door.“No.”“You’ll want all this, and I’ve got some good tack inside.”“Be off, fellow, and don’t bother me.”“Yah! Who want’s to?” cried Ram; and he went off whistling merrily till he was at the opening, when he shouted back,—“No oats to-day, pony. Good-bye.”Archy leaped up and stood listening with his heart beating fast, and his head bent in the direction taken by the boy.“How unfortunate!” he said. “But I could not help it. Will he come back?”He listened and listened and hesitated, but there was no sound, and still he hesitated, till quite a couple of hours must have passed, when he uttered a loud exultant cry, determined now to make one bold dash for liberty, and made straight through the darkness for the open way.
As the prisoner sat listening to the bang of the trap-door and the rattling of the bolts, he could hardly contain himself. But knowing the danger of the boy coming back and finding him gone, he forced himself to stay where he was; and to pass away the time he opened the basket Ram had now left in place of the other, and forced himself to eat.
But he could hardly swallow the food, which seemed tasteless in the extreme, and he was about to give up and hasten back to his work when his heart leaped, for there was the distant sound of the bolts being drawn, and a minute or two later the soft yellow light came slowly towards him and stopped.
“Just remembered,” said its bearer. “Got half way home first, though. Mother said I was to be sure and take back that basket. Put the stuff out on the sail. Hullo, what you been doing to your hands?”
Archy started guiltily, and looked at them in the light to see that they were covered with blood, from injuries that he had made unconsciously in toiling with his knife against the stones.
“Tumbled down?” continued Ram without waiting for an answer. “Well, ’tis dark ’mong these stones. I used to trip over them, but I could go anywhere now in the dark. Seem to feel like when they are near. Never mind, tear up yer hankychy and wrap round. I’ll bring you one o’ mine next time I come. There we are. Haven’t forgot the basket this time. I say?”
“Well?”
The lad was ten yards away now, holding the lanthorn above his head.
“You lost a chance.”
“What do you mean?”
“Jemmy Dadd isn’t up by the door. You might have given me a topper with a stone, and run away; too late now.”
He ran off laughing, and holding the lanthorn down low to make sure of his way.
But Archy did not start up in pursuit. He saw a better way out now, and waiting till he felt convinced that the boy must be well on his way home, he jumped up, felt his way to the crevice, and was soon after hard at work picking the mortar from between the stones.
Now and then, as he grew faint and weary, it seemed to him that he had made no progress, but the little heap of mortar told different tales, and once more taking heart he toiled away.
It seemed a very easy thing to do, to loosen one stone in a rugged wall, draw it out, and then remove the other, but in practice it appeared almost impossible, and again going back into the quarry to partake of the food that was absolutely necessary, Archy returned to his task, and after working away again for about half an hour he fell fast asleep.
How long he slept he did not know, but he started awake again to find that it was quite dark, and he kept on like one in a dream.
The stone seemed as fast as ever, and his progress was getting very slow now, for he had cleared away the mortar as fast as he could reach in; but at last, seizing the stone and getting his fingers well in the joint, he gave it a vigorous shove, and then uttered a shout of triumph, for to his delight there came a sharp crack, and after giving a vigorous shove, the stone, which was about twenty inches long, was drawn out, and became the instrument for dislodging its fellows.
This was comparatively easy now, and in the course of the next two days the prisoner had loosened and drawn out stones till he had made a way through a rough piece of wall six feet thick, and had enlarged the hole so that there was room to creep into the opening he had made and look out.
Here came disappointment the first. The wall he had worked through did not face out to sea, but was one side of a chasm, and he gazed at the opposite side.
Soon after he learned that this had not been the place where the stones were carried out for landing in boats, but the hole through which all the refuse was discharged, to fall in a crumbling heap a tremendous distance below, to be washed away by the waves which curved over and over against the foot and rolled up into the chasm.
Still he worked on, enlarging the hole and sending the broken pieces and mortar, rattling down the face of the cliff into the sea, till there was nothing to hinder his crawling out at any time, and either getting to the top of the cliff or down below to the shore.
He decided for the former as the more easy and the less likely to suggest peril, and he spent the next few hours after cleansing himself as much as possible, so as not to excite the attention of his young gaoler, and in his efforts to do this he made use of a piece of sailcloth, and an end of a coil of rope which lay with some sea-going tackle hard by where he slept.
The day had come at last when the way was open, and he had but to creep out into the fresh bright sunshine and run for his liberty.
He could hardly refrain from doing so at once, but his long and arduous labour, which had taken the skin from his fingers and left his whole hands so tender that he hardly dared to touch anything, had taught him some wisdom, especially not to throw away the opportunity for which he had worked so hard.
And now he sat there in the darkness, wafting, so exultant that his seat might have been a throne, instead of a worn-out sail stretched over a mass of stone. He hugged the knees upon which his chin rested, and gazed straight before him into the blackness, watching for the first glow of Ram’s lanthorn, and seeing as he watched the glorious sky, the blue sea all a-ripple; the shimmer and play of a passing shoal of fish; gulls floating without effort, now high up, now low down, their breasts of purest white, their backs of delicate grey, and their wondering eyes gazing at the rough-looking fisher-lad who crept out of a hole in the face of the cliff, made his way from shelf to shelf, ever up and up till he was on the grass at the top, where he lay down to wait till night for fear of being seen and dragged back.
The black darkness of the great cavern quarry was all alight now with the pictures his mind painted, and, in his delight and satisfaction, he laughed aloud as he thought of Ram’s disappointment on coming one day and finding his prisoner flown.
It was hard work to keep from starting at once, but the midshipman felt that if he did, his escape would be discovered at any moment, and if it were, it was only a question of time before he would have the whole smuggling gang after him, and he would be hunted down to a lot ten times more bitter from the fact of his having failure to contemplate, and form his mental food.
The rattle at last. The door dragged up, and Ram was not alone, for his voice could be heard in conversation with Jemmy Dadd.
The boy was in capital spirits, and he was whistling merrily, his shrill notes echoing from the flat roof as he came on swinging his lanthorn in one hand, the basket in the other.
“Sleep?” he said, as he saw Archy’s attitude. “There you are,” he continued. “I know you weren’t asleep, and if you don’t like to talk it aren’t my fault. Want anything else?”
No reply; Archy dare not speak.
“Oh, very well,” he said, “you can do as you like. Where’s t’other basket?”
A shiver ran through the prisoner as he recollected that which he had forgotten in his excitement: the basket which he had taken with some of the food therein, ready for his use as he worked, was standing by the opening at the top of the steps, and he cast an anxious glance sidewise in the direction of the passage, in dread lest the boy should detect the light shining down.
He need not have been alarmed, for there was not a ray visible, and even if there had been, the light cast by the opened lanthorn would have hidden it; but he sat there trembling all the same, and with a curious sensation of suffocation rising in his throat, as he softly altered his position and loosened his hands, ready to make a spring at his enemy if it should become necessary.
“Well, I do call that grumpy. Keeps on bringing you nuts, and you’re so snarky that you won’t so much as give one back the shells. Now, then, where’s that basket?”
Archy felt that he must speak, or else the boy would go in search of it.
“I haven’t done with it.”
“But I want it to take back.”
“It has some of the dinner in it.”
“Well, then, let’s empty it out.”
“No,” said Archy, sitting up angrily; “you can’t have it now.”
“Oh,” said Ram, “that’s it, is it? Suppose I say I will have it?”
“If you don’t take yourself off,” cried Archy, “I’ll break your head with one of these pieces of stone.”
“Two can play at that game.”
“Be off.”
“I shan’t. I want our basket. Mother said I was to bring it back.”
“Tell her you haven’t got it.”
“Now, look here,” cried Ram, “if you don’t give me that basket back, I won’t bring you what I was going to bring to-morrow. Where is it?”
“Where I put it. You contemptible young smuggling thief! How dare you come worrying a gentleman about a dirty old basket!”
“Wasn’t dirty, for mother scrubbed it out before she’d send it to you. Where is it?”
Desperate now in his fix, and feeling that his only resource to keep Ram from searching for the basket with his lanthorn was to keep up this show of anger, Archy made a snatch at a long splinter of stone, and started up menacingly.
“Oh, that’s it, is it?” cried Ram, who stood upon his guard, but did not appear in the least bit alarmed. “Fed you too well, have I? Had too many oats, and you’re beginning to kick up your heels and squeak and snort. Never mind, I’ll soon make you civil again. Going to give me that basket?”
“No.”
“Then you shan’t have this. There!” cried Ram, and snatching up the one he had brought, he walked straight away, swinging his lanthorn after he had shut it with a snap.
“Going to give it to me?” he cried, as he stopped about half way to the trap-door.
“No.”
“You’ll want all this, and I’ve got some good tack inside.”
“Be off, fellow, and don’t bother me.”
“Yah! Who want’s to?” cried Ram; and he went off whistling merrily till he was at the opening, when he shouted back,—
“No oats to-day, pony. Good-bye.”
Archy leaped up and stood listening with his heart beating fast, and his head bent in the direction taken by the boy.
“How unfortunate!” he said. “But I could not help it. Will he come back?”
He listened and listened and hesitated, but there was no sound, and still he hesitated, till quite a couple of hours must have passed, when he uttered a loud exultant cry, determined now to make one bold dash for liberty, and made straight through the darkness for the open way.