Chapter Seven.The Captain will “wherrit.”Captain Lawrence spent the day at the Point, thoroughly enjoying a long gossip, and, after an early dinner, proposed a walk around the grounds and a look at the river and the pool.“What a lovely spot it is!” he said, as he wandered about the side of the combe. “I must have such a place as this when I give up the sea.”“There isn’t such a place, Jack,” said Captain Revel proudly. “But I want you to look round the pool.—I don’t think I’ll climb down, Nic. It’s rather hot; and I’ll sit down on the stone for a few minutes while you two plan where you could ambush the men.”“Right,” said Captain Lawrence; and he actively followed Nic, pausing here and there, till they had descended to where the fall just splashed gently down into the clear pool, whose bigger stones about the bottom were now half-bare.“Lovely place this, Nic, my boy. I could sit down here and doze away the rest of my days. But what a pity it is that your father worries himself so about these poaching scoundrels! Can’t you wean him from it? Tell him, or I will, that it isn’t worth the trouble. Plenty more fish will come, and there must be a little grit in every one’s wheel.”“Oh, I’ve tried everything, sir,” replied Nic. “The fact is that he is not so well as I should like to see him; and when he has an irritable fit, the idea of any one trespassing and taking the fish half-maddens him.”“Well, we must see what we can do, my boy. It ought to be stopped. A set of idlers like this requires a severe lesson. A good dose of capstan bar and some broken heads will sicken them, and then perhaps they will let you alone.”“I hope so, sir.”“I think I can contrive that it shall,” said the visitor dryly. “I shall bring or send some trusty men. There, I have seen all I want to see. Let’s get back.”He turned to climb up the side of the gorge; and as Nic followed, the place made him recall his encounter with Pete Burge, and how different the pool looked then; and, somehow, he could not help hoping that the big, bluff fellow might not be present during the sharp encounter with Captain Lawrence’s trusty men.“Hah! Began to think you long, Jack,” said Captain Revel; and they returned to the house and entered, after a glance seaward, where the ship lay at anchor.Towards evening Solly was sent to hoist a signal upon the flagstaff, and soon after a boat was seen pulling towards the shore. Then the visitor took his leave, renewing his promise to reply to a signal by sending a strong party of men.Nic walked down to the boat with his father’s friend, and answered several questions about the type of men who came after the salmon.“I see, I see,” said Captain Lawrence; “but do you think they’ll fight well?”“Oh yes; there are some daring rascals among them.”“So much the better, my dear boy. There, good-bye. Mind—two small flags on your signal-halyards after the first heavy rain upon the moor, and you may expect us at dusk. If the rascals don’t come we’ll have another try; but you’ll know whether they’ll be there by the fish in the pool. They’ll know too—trust ’em. Look, there’s your father watching us—” and he waved his hand. “Good-bye, Nic, my dear boy. Good-bye!”He shook hands very warmly. Two of his men who were ashore joined hands to make what children call a “dandy-chair,” the Captain placed his hands upon their shoulders, and they waded through the shallow water to the boat, pausing to give her a shove off before climbing in; and then, as the oars made the water flash in the evening light, Nic climbed the long hill again, to stand with his father, watching the boat till she reached the side of the ship.“Now then, my boy,” said the old man, “we’re going to give those fellows such a lesson as they have never had before.”He little knew how truly he was speaking.“I hope so, father,” said Nic; and he was delighted to find how pleased the old officer seemed.The next morning, when Nic opened his bedroom window, the king’s ship was not in sight; and for a week Captain Revel was fidgeting and watching the sky, for no rain came, and there was not water enough in the river for fresh salmon to come as far as the pool.“Did you ever see anything like it, Nic, my boy?” the Captain said again and again; “that’s always the way: if I didn’t want it to rain, there’d be a big storm up in the hills, and the fall would be roaring like a sou’-wester off the Land’s End; but now I want just enough water to fill the river, not a drop will come. How long did Jack Lawrence say that he was going to stop about Plymouth?”“He didn’t say, father, that I remember,” replied Nic. “Then he’ll soon be off; and just in the miserable, cantankerous way in which things happen, the very day he sets sail there’ll be a storm on Dartmoor, and the next morning the pool will be full of salmon, and those scoundrels will come to set me at defiance, and clear off every fish.”“I say, father,” said Nic merrily, “isn’t that making troubles, and fancying storms before they come?”“What, sir? How dare you speak to me like that?” cried the Captain.—“And you, Solly, you mutinous scoundrel, how dare you laugh?” he roared, turning to his body-servant, who happened to be in the hail.“Beg your honour’s pardon; I didn’t laugh.”“You did laugh, sir,” roared the Captain—“that is, I saw you look at Master Nic here and smile. It’s outrageous. Every one is turning against me, and I’m beginning to think it’s time I was out of this miserable world.”He snatched up his stick from the stand, banged on the old straw hat he wore, and stamped out of the porch to turn away to the left, leaving Nic hesitating as to what he should do, deeply grieved as he was at his father’s annoyance and display of temper. One moment he was for following and trying to say something which would tend to calm the irritation. The next he was thinking it would be best to leave the old man to himself, trusting to the walk in the pleasant grounds having the desired result.But this idea was knocked over directly by Solly, who had followed his master to the porch, and stood watching him for a few moments.“Oh dear, dear! Master Nic,” he cried, turning back, “he’s gone down the combe path to see whether there’s any more water running down; and there aren’t, and he’ll be a-wherriting his werry inside out, and that wherrits mine too. For I can’t abear to see the poor old skipper like this here.”“No, Solly, neither can I,” said Nic gloomily.“It’s his old hurts does it, sir. It aren’t nat’ral. Here he is laid up, as you may say, in clover, in as nice a place as an old sailor could end his days in.”“Yes, Solly,” said Nic sadly; “it is a beautiful old place.”“Ay, it is, sir; and when I cons it over I feel it. Why, Master Nic, when I think of all the real trouble as there is in life, and what some folks has to go through, I asks myself what I’ve ever done to have such good luck as to be safely moored here in such a harbour. It’s a lovely home, and the troubles is nothing—on’y a bit of a gale blowed by the skipper now and then along of the wrong boots as hurts his corns, or him being a-carrying on too much sail, and bustin’ off a button in a hurry. And who minds that?”“Ah! who minds a trifle like that, Solly?” sighed Nic. “Well, sir, you see he does. Wind gets up directly, and he talks to me as if I’d mutinied. But I don’t mind. I know all the time that he’s the best and bravest skipper as ever lived, and I’d do anything for him to save him from trouble.”“I know you would, Solly,” said Nic, laying a hand upon the rugged old sailor’s shoulder.“Thank ye, Master Nic; that does a man good. But look here, sir; I can’t help saying it. The fact is, after his rough, stormy life, everything here’s made too easy for the skipper. He’s a bit worried by his old wounds, and that’s all; and consekens is ’cause he aren’t got no real troubles he wherrits himself and makes quakers.”“Makes quakers?” said Nic wonderingly.“Sham troubles, Master Nic—wooden guns, as we call quakers out at sea or in a fort. Strikes me, sir, as a real, downright, good, gen-u-wine trouble, such as losing all his money, would be the making of the Captain; and after that he’d be ready to laugh at losing a few salmon as he don’t want. I say, Master Nic, you aren’t offended at me for making so bold?”“No, Solly, no,” said the young man sadly. “You mean well, I know. There, say no more about it. I hope all this will settle itself, as so many troubles do.”Nic strolled out into the grounds and unconsciously followed his father, who had gone to the edge of the combe; but he had not walked far before a cheery hail saluted his ears, and, to his great delight, he found the Captain looking radiant.“Nic, my boy, it’s all right,” he cried; “my left arm aches terribly and my corns are shooting like mad. Well, what are you staring at? Don’t you see it means rain? Look yonder, too. Bah! It’s of no use to tell you, boy. You’ve never been to sea. You’ve never had to keep your weather-eye open. See that bit of silvery cloud yonder over Rigdon Tor? And do you notice what a peculiar gleam there is in the air, and how the flies bite?”“Yes—yes, I see all that, father.”“Well, it’s rain coming, my boy. There’s going to be a thunderstorm up in the hills before many hours are past. I’m not a clever man, but I can tell what the weather’s going to be as well as most folk.”“I’m glad of it, father, if it will please you.”“Please me, boy? I shall be delighted. To-morrow morning the salmon will be running up the river again, and we may hoist the signal for help. I say, you don’t think Jack Lawrence has gone yet?”“No, father,” said Nic; “I do not.”“Why, Nic?—why?” cried the old sailor.“Because he said to me he should certainly come up and see us again before he went.”“To be sure; so he did to me, Nic. I say, my boy, I—that is—er—wasn’t I a little bit crusty this morning to you and poor old William Solly?”“Well, yes; just a little, father,” said Nic, taking his arm.“Sorry for it. Change of the weather, Nic, affects me. It was coming on. I must apologise to Solly. Grand old fellow, William Solly. Saved my life over and over again. Man who would die for his master, Nic; and a man who would do that is more than a servant, Nic—he is a friend.”
Captain Lawrence spent the day at the Point, thoroughly enjoying a long gossip, and, after an early dinner, proposed a walk around the grounds and a look at the river and the pool.
“What a lovely spot it is!” he said, as he wandered about the side of the combe. “I must have such a place as this when I give up the sea.”
“There isn’t such a place, Jack,” said Captain Revel proudly. “But I want you to look round the pool.—I don’t think I’ll climb down, Nic. It’s rather hot; and I’ll sit down on the stone for a few minutes while you two plan where you could ambush the men.”
“Right,” said Captain Lawrence; and he actively followed Nic, pausing here and there, till they had descended to where the fall just splashed gently down into the clear pool, whose bigger stones about the bottom were now half-bare.
“Lovely place this, Nic, my boy. I could sit down here and doze away the rest of my days. But what a pity it is that your father worries himself so about these poaching scoundrels! Can’t you wean him from it? Tell him, or I will, that it isn’t worth the trouble. Plenty more fish will come, and there must be a little grit in every one’s wheel.”
“Oh, I’ve tried everything, sir,” replied Nic. “The fact is that he is not so well as I should like to see him; and when he has an irritable fit, the idea of any one trespassing and taking the fish half-maddens him.”
“Well, we must see what we can do, my boy. It ought to be stopped. A set of idlers like this requires a severe lesson. A good dose of capstan bar and some broken heads will sicken them, and then perhaps they will let you alone.”
“I hope so, sir.”
“I think I can contrive that it shall,” said the visitor dryly. “I shall bring or send some trusty men. There, I have seen all I want to see. Let’s get back.”
He turned to climb up the side of the gorge; and as Nic followed, the place made him recall his encounter with Pete Burge, and how different the pool looked then; and, somehow, he could not help hoping that the big, bluff fellow might not be present during the sharp encounter with Captain Lawrence’s trusty men.
“Hah! Began to think you long, Jack,” said Captain Revel; and they returned to the house and entered, after a glance seaward, where the ship lay at anchor.
Towards evening Solly was sent to hoist a signal upon the flagstaff, and soon after a boat was seen pulling towards the shore. Then the visitor took his leave, renewing his promise to reply to a signal by sending a strong party of men.
Nic walked down to the boat with his father’s friend, and answered several questions about the type of men who came after the salmon.
“I see, I see,” said Captain Lawrence; “but do you think they’ll fight well?”
“Oh yes; there are some daring rascals among them.”
“So much the better, my dear boy. There, good-bye. Mind—two small flags on your signal-halyards after the first heavy rain upon the moor, and you may expect us at dusk. If the rascals don’t come we’ll have another try; but you’ll know whether they’ll be there by the fish in the pool. They’ll know too—trust ’em. Look, there’s your father watching us—” and he waved his hand. “Good-bye, Nic, my dear boy. Good-bye!”
He shook hands very warmly. Two of his men who were ashore joined hands to make what children call a “dandy-chair,” the Captain placed his hands upon their shoulders, and they waded through the shallow water to the boat, pausing to give her a shove off before climbing in; and then, as the oars made the water flash in the evening light, Nic climbed the long hill again, to stand with his father, watching the boat till she reached the side of the ship.
“Now then, my boy,” said the old man, “we’re going to give those fellows such a lesson as they have never had before.”
He little knew how truly he was speaking.
“I hope so, father,” said Nic; and he was delighted to find how pleased the old officer seemed.
The next morning, when Nic opened his bedroom window, the king’s ship was not in sight; and for a week Captain Revel was fidgeting and watching the sky, for no rain came, and there was not water enough in the river for fresh salmon to come as far as the pool.
“Did you ever see anything like it, Nic, my boy?” the Captain said again and again; “that’s always the way: if I didn’t want it to rain, there’d be a big storm up in the hills, and the fall would be roaring like a sou’-wester off the Land’s End; but now I want just enough water to fill the river, not a drop will come. How long did Jack Lawrence say that he was going to stop about Plymouth?”
“He didn’t say, father, that I remember,” replied Nic. “Then he’ll soon be off; and just in the miserable, cantankerous way in which things happen, the very day he sets sail there’ll be a storm on Dartmoor, and the next morning the pool will be full of salmon, and those scoundrels will come to set me at defiance, and clear off every fish.”
“I say, father,” said Nic merrily, “isn’t that making troubles, and fancying storms before they come?”
“What, sir? How dare you speak to me like that?” cried the Captain.—“And you, Solly, you mutinous scoundrel, how dare you laugh?” he roared, turning to his body-servant, who happened to be in the hail.
“Beg your honour’s pardon; I didn’t laugh.”
“You did laugh, sir,” roared the Captain—“that is, I saw you look at Master Nic here and smile. It’s outrageous. Every one is turning against me, and I’m beginning to think it’s time I was out of this miserable world.”
He snatched up his stick from the stand, banged on the old straw hat he wore, and stamped out of the porch to turn away to the left, leaving Nic hesitating as to what he should do, deeply grieved as he was at his father’s annoyance and display of temper. One moment he was for following and trying to say something which would tend to calm the irritation. The next he was thinking it would be best to leave the old man to himself, trusting to the walk in the pleasant grounds having the desired result.
But this idea was knocked over directly by Solly, who had followed his master to the porch, and stood watching him for a few moments.
“Oh dear, dear! Master Nic,” he cried, turning back, “he’s gone down the combe path to see whether there’s any more water running down; and there aren’t, and he’ll be a-wherriting his werry inside out, and that wherrits mine too. For I can’t abear to see the poor old skipper like this here.”
“No, Solly, neither can I,” said Nic gloomily.
“It’s his old hurts does it, sir. It aren’t nat’ral. Here he is laid up, as you may say, in clover, in as nice a place as an old sailor could end his days in.”
“Yes, Solly,” said Nic sadly; “it is a beautiful old place.”
“Ay, it is, sir; and when I cons it over I feel it. Why, Master Nic, when I think of all the real trouble as there is in life, and what some folks has to go through, I asks myself what I’ve ever done to have such good luck as to be safely moored here in such a harbour. It’s a lovely home, and the troubles is nothing—on’y a bit of a gale blowed by the skipper now and then along of the wrong boots as hurts his corns, or him being a-carrying on too much sail, and bustin’ off a button in a hurry. And who minds that?”
“Ah! who minds a trifle like that, Solly?” sighed Nic. “Well, sir, you see he does. Wind gets up directly, and he talks to me as if I’d mutinied. But I don’t mind. I know all the time that he’s the best and bravest skipper as ever lived, and I’d do anything for him to save him from trouble.”
“I know you would, Solly,” said Nic, laying a hand upon the rugged old sailor’s shoulder.
“Thank ye, Master Nic; that does a man good. But look here, sir; I can’t help saying it. The fact is, after his rough, stormy life, everything here’s made too easy for the skipper. He’s a bit worried by his old wounds, and that’s all; and consekens is ’cause he aren’t got no real troubles he wherrits himself and makes quakers.”
“Makes quakers?” said Nic wonderingly.
“Sham troubles, Master Nic—wooden guns, as we call quakers out at sea or in a fort. Strikes me, sir, as a real, downright, good, gen-u-wine trouble, such as losing all his money, would be the making of the Captain; and after that he’d be ready to laugh at losing a few salmon as he don’t want. I say, Master Nic, you aren’t offended at me for making so bold?”
“No, Solly, no,” said the young man sadly. “You mean well, I know. There, say no more about it. I hope all this will settle itself, as so many troubles do.”
Nic strolled out into the grounds and unconsciously followed his father, who had gone to the edge of the combe; but he had not walked far before a cheery hail saluted his ears, and, to his great delight, he found the Captain looking radiant.
“Nic, my boy, it’s all right,” he cried; “my left arm aches terribly and my corns are shooting like mad. Well, what are you staring at? Don’t you see it means rain? Look yonder, too. Bah! It’s of no use to tell you, boy. You’ve never been to sea. You’ve never had to keep your weather-eye open. See that bit of silvery cloud yonder over Rigdon Tor? And do you notice what a peculiar gleam there is in the air, and how the flies bite?”
“Yes—yes, I see all that, father.”
“Well, it’s rain coming, my boy. There’s going to be a thunderstorm up in the hills before many hours are past. I’m not a clever man, but I can tell what the weather’s going to be as well as most folk.”
“I’m glad of it, father, if it will please you.”
“Please me, boy? I shall be delighted. To-morrow morning the salmon will be running up the river again, and we may hoist the signal for help. I say, you don’t think Jack Lawrence has gone yet?”
“No, father,” said Nic; “I do not.”
“Why, Nic?—why?” cried the old sailor.
“Because he said to me he should certainly come up and see us again before he went.”
“To be sure; so he did to me, Nic. I say, my boy, I—that is—er—wasn’t I a little bit crusty this morning to you and poor old William Solly?”
“Well, yes; just a little, father,” said Nic, taking his arm.
“Sorry for it. Change of the weather, Nic, affects me. It was coming on. I must apologise to Solly. Grand old fellow, William Solly. Saved my life over and over again. Man who would die for his master, Nic; and a man who would do that is more than a servant, Nic—he is a friend.”
Chapter Eight.The Captain’s Prophecy.Before many hours had passed the Captain’s words proved correct. The clouds gathered over the tors, and there was a tremendous storm a thousand feet above the Point. The lightning flashed and struck and splintered the rugged old masses of granite; the thunder roared, and there was a perfect deluge of rain; while down near the sea, though it was intensely hot, not a drop fell, and the evening came on soft and cool.“Solly, my lad,” cried the Captain, rubbing his hands, “we shall have the fall roaring before midnight; but don’t sit up to listen to it.”“Cert’n’y not, sir,” said the old sailor.“Your watch will begin at daybreak, when you will hoist the signal for Captain Lawrence.”“Ay, ay, sir!”“And keep eye to west’ard on and off all day, to try if you can sight the frigate.”“Ay, ay, sir!”“And in the course of the morning you will go quietly round and tell the men to rendezvous here about eight, when you will serve out the arms.”“Ay, ay, sir.”“The good stout oak cudgels I had cut; and if we’re lucky, my lad, we shall have as nice and pleasant a fight as ever we two had in our lives.”“Quite a treat, sir,” said the old sailor; “and I hope we shall be able to pay our debts.”The Captain was in the highest of glee all the evening, and he shook his son’s hand very warmly when they parted for bed.About one o’clock Nic was aroused from a deep sleep by a sharp knocking at his door.“Awake, Nic?” came in the familiar accents.“No, father. Yes, father. Is anything wrong?”“Wrong? No, my boy; right! Hear the fall?”“No, father; I was sound asleep.”“Open your window and put out your head, boy. The water’s coming down and roaring like thunder. Good-night.”Nic slipped out of bed, did as he was told, and, as he listened, there was the deep, musical, booming sound of the fall seeming to fill the air, while from one part of the ravine a low, rushing noise told that the river must be pretty full.Nic stood listening for some time before closing his window and returning to bed, to lie wakeful and depressed, feeling a strange kind of foreboding, as if some serious trouble was at hand. It was not that he was afraid or shrank from the contest which might in all probability take place the next night, though he knew that it would be desperate—for, on the contrary, he felt excited and quite ready to join in the fray; but he was worried about his father, and the difficulty he knew he would have in keeping him out of danger. He was in this awkward position, too: what he would like to do would be to get Solly and a couple of their stoutest men to act as bodyguard to protect his father; but, if he attempted such a thing, the chances were that the Captain would look upon it as cowardice, and order them off to the thick of the cudgel-play.Just as he reached this point he fell asleep.Nic found the Captain down first next morning, looking as pleased as a boy about to start for his holidays.“You’re a pretty fellow,” he cried. “Why, I’ve been up hours, and went right to the falls. Pool’s full, Nic, my boy, the salmon are up, and it’s splendid, lad.”“What is, father?”“Something else is coming up.”“What?”“Those scoundrels are on thequi vive. I was resting on one of the rough stone seats, when, as I sat hidden among the trees, I caught sight of something on the far side of the pool—a man creeping cautiously down to spy out the state of the water.”“Pete Burge, father?” cried Nic eagerly.“Humph! No; I hardly caught a glimpse of his face, but it was too short for that scoundrel. I think it was that thick-set, humpbacked rascal they call Dee.”“And did he see you, father?”“No: I sat still, my boy, and watched till he slunk away again. Nic, lad, we shall have them here to-night, and we must be ready.”“Yes, father, if Captain Lawrence sends his men.”“Whether he does or no, sir. I can’t sit still and know that my salmon are being stolen. Come—breakfast! Oh, here’s Solly.—Here, you, sir, what about those two signal flags? Hoist them directly.”“Run ’em up, sir, as soon as it was light.”“Good. Then, now, keep a lookout for the frigate.” The day wore away with no news of the ship being in the offing, and the Captain began to fume and fret, so that Nic made an excuse to get away and look out, relieving Solly, stationing himself by the flagstaff and scanning the horizon till his eyes grew weary and his head ached.It was about six o’clock when he was summoned to dinner by Solly, who took his place, and Nic went and joined his father.“Needn’t speak,” said the old man bitterly; “I know; Lawrence hasn’t come. We’ll have to do it ourselves.”Nic was silent, and during the meal his father hardly spoke a word.Just as they were about to rise, Solly entered the room, and the Captain turned to him eagerly.“I was going to send for you, my lad,” he said. “Captain Lawrence must be away, and we shall have to trap the scoundrels ourselves. How many men can we muster?”“Ten, sir.”“Not half enough,” said the Captain; “but they are strong, staunch fellows, and we have right on our side. Ten against twenty or thirty. Long odds; but we’ve gone against heavier odds than that in our time, Solly.”“Ay, sir, that we have.”“We must lie in wait and take them by surprise when they’re scattered, my lads. But what luck! what luck! Now if Lawrence had only kept faith with me we could have trapped the whole gang.”“Well, your honour, why not?” said Solly sharply.“Why not?”“He’ll be here before we want him.”“What?” cried Nic. “Is the frigate in sight?”“In sight, sir—and was when you left the signal station.”“No,” said Nic sharply; “the only vessel in sight then was a big merchantman with her yards all awry.”“That’s so, sir, and she gammoned me. The skipper’s had her streak painted out, and a lot of her tackle cast loose, to make her look like a lubberly trader; but it’s the frigate, as I made out at last, coming down with a spanking breeze, and in an hour’s time she’ll be close enough to send her men ashore.”The Captain sprang up and caught his son’s hand, to ring it hard.“Huzza, Nic!” he cried excitedly. “This is going to be a night of nights.”It was.
Before many hours had passed the Captain’s words proved correct. The clouds gathered over the tors, and there was a tremendous storm a thousand feet above the Point. The lightning flashed and struck and splintered the rugged old masses of granite; the thunder roared, and there was a perfect deluge of rain; while down near the sea, though it was intensely hot, not a drop fell, and the evening came on soft and cool.
“Solly, my lad,” cried the Captain, rubbing his hands, “we shall have the fall roaring before midnight; but don’t sit up to listen to it.”
“Cert’n’y not, sir,” said the old sailor.
“Your watch will begin at daybreak, when you will hoist the signal for Captain Lawrence.”
“Ay, ay, sir!”
“And keep eye to west’ard on and off all day, to try if you can sight the frigate.”
“Ay, ay, sir!”
“And in the course of the morning you will go quietly round and tell the men to rendezvous here about eight, when you will serve out the arms.”
“Ay, ay, sir.”
“The good stout oak cudgels I had cut; and if we’re lucky, my lad, we shall have as nice and pleasant a fight as ever we two had in our lives.”
“Quite a treat, sir,” said the old sailor; “and I hope we shall be able to pay our debts.”
The Captain was in the highest of glee all the evening, and he shook his son’s hand very warmly when they parted for bed.
About one o’clock Nic was aroused from a deep sleep by a sharp knocking at his door.
“Awake, Nic?” came in the familiar accents.
“No, father. Yes, father. Is anything wrong?”
“Wrong? No, my boy; right! Hear the fall?”
“No, father; I was sound asleep.”
“Open your window and put out your head, boy. The water’s coming down and roaring like thunder. Good-night.”
Nic slipped out of bed, did as he was told, and, as he listened, there was the deep, musical, booming sound of the fall seeming to fill the air, while from one part of the ravine a low, rushing noise told that the river must be pretty full.
Nic stood listening for some time before closing his window and returning to bed, to lie wakeful and depressed, feeling a strange kind of foreboding, as if some serious trouble was at hand. It was not that he was afraid or shrank from the contest which might in all probability take place the next night, though he knew that it would be desperate—for, on the contrary, he felt excited and quite ready to join in the fray; but he was worried about his father, and the difficulty he knew he would have in keeping him out of danger. He was in this awkward position, too: what he would like to do would be to get Solly and a couple of their stoutest men to act as bodyguard to protect his father; but, if he attempted such a thing, the chances were that the Captain would look upon it as cowardice, and order them off to the thick of the cudgel-play.
Just as he reached this point he fell asleep.
Nic found the Captain down first next morning, looking as pleased as a boy about to start for his holidays.
“You’re a pretty fellow,” he cried. “Why, I’ve been up hours, and went right to the falls. Pool’s full, Nic, my boy, the salmon are up, and it’s splendid, lad.”
“What is, father?”
“Something else is coming up.”
“What?”
“Those scoundrels are on thequi vive. I was resting on one of the rough stone seats, when, as I sat hidden among the trees, I caught sight of something on the far side of the pool—a man creeping cautiously down to spy out the state of the water.”
“Pete Burge, father?” cried Nic eagerly.
“Humph! No; I hardly caught a glimpse of his face, but it was too short for that scoundrel. I think it was that thick-set, humpbacked rascal they call Dee.”
“And did he see you, father?”
“No: I sat still, my boy, and watched till he slunk away again. Nic, lad, we shall have them here to-night, and we must be ready.”
“Yes, father, if Captain Lawrence sends his men.”
“Whether he does or no, sir. I can’t sit still and know that my salmon are being stolen. Come—breakfast! Oh, here’s Solly.—Here, you, sir, what about those two signal flags? Hoist them directly.”
“Run ’em up, sir, as soon as it was light.”
“Good. Then, now, keep a lookout for the frigate.” The day wore away with no news of the ship being in the offing, and the Captain began to fume and fret, so that Nic made an excuse to get away and look out, relieving Solly, stationing himself by the flagstaff and scanning the horizon till his eyes grew weary and his head ached.
It was about six o’clock when he was summoned to dinner by Solly, who took his place, and Nic went and joined his father.
“Needn’t speak,” said the old man bitterly; “I know; Lawrence hasn’t come. We’ll have to do it ourselves.”
Nic was silent, and during the meal his father hardly spoke a word.
Just as they were about to rise, Solly entered the room, and the Captain turned to him eagerly.
“I was going to send for you, my lad,” he said. “Captain Lawrence must be away, and we shall have to trap the scoundrels ourselves. How many men can we muster?”
“Ten, sir.”
“Not half enough,” said the Captain; “but they are strong, staunch fellows, and we have right on our side. Ten against twenty or thirty. Long odds; but we’ve gone against heavier odds than that in our time, Solly.”
“Ay, sir, that we have.”
“We must lie in wait and take them by surprise when they’re scattered, my lads. But what luck! what luck! Now if Lawrence had only kept faith with me we could have trapped the whole gang.”
“Well, your honour, why not?” said Solly sharply.
“Why not?”
“He’ll be here before we want him.”
“What?” cried Nic. “Is the frigate in sight?”
“In sight, sir—and was when you left the signal station.”
“No,” said Nic sharply; “the only vessel in sight then was a big merchantman with her yards all awry.”
“That’s so, sir, and she gammoned me. The skipper’s had her streak painted out, and a lot of her tackle cast loose, to make her look like a lubberly trader; but it’s the frigate, as I made out at last, coming down with a spanking breeze, and in an hour’s time she’ll be close enough to send her men ashore.”
The Captain sprang up and caught his son’s hand, to ring it hard.
“Huzza, Nic!” he cried excitedly. “This is going to be a night of nights.”
It was.
Chapter Nine.Ready for Action.“That’s about their size, Master Nic,” said Solly, as he stood in the coach-house balancing a heavy cudgel in his hand—one of a couple of dozen lying on the top of the corn-bin just through the stable door.“Oh, the size doesn’t matter, Bill,” said Nic impatiently.“Begging your pardon, sir, it do,” said the old sailor severely. “You don’t want to kill nobody in a fight such as we’re going to have, do ye?”“No, no; of course not.”“There you are, then. Man’s sure to hit as hard as he can when his monkey’s up; and that stick’s just as heavy as you can have ’em without breaking bones. That’s the sort o’ stick as’ll knock a man silly and give him the headache for a week, and sarve him right. If it was half-a-hounce heavier it’d kill him.”“How do you know?” said Nic sharply.“How do I know, sir?” said the man wonderingly. “Why, I weighed it.”Nic would have asked for further explanations; but just then there were steps heard in the yard, and the gardener and a couple of labourers came up in the dusk.“Oh, there you are,” growled Solly. “Here’s your weepuns;” and he raised three of the cudgels. “You may hit as hard as you like with them. Seen any of the others?”“Yes,” said the gardener; “there’s two from the village coming along the road, and three of us taking the short cut over the home field. That’s all I see.”“Humph!” said Solly. “There ought to be five more by this time.”“Sick on it, p’r’aps,” grumbled the gardener; “and no wonder. We are.”“What! Are you afraid?” cried Nic.“No, sir, I aren’t afraid; on’y sick on it. I like a good fight, and so do these here when it’s ’bout fair and ekal, but every time we has a go in t’other side seems to be the flails and we only the corn and straw. They’re too many for us. I’m sick o’ being thrashed, and so’s these here; and that aren’t being afraid.”“Why, you aren’t going to sneak out of it, are you?” growled Solly.“No, I aren’t,” said the gardener; “not till I’ve had a good go at that Pete Burge and Master Humpy Dee. But I’m going to sarcumwent ’em this time.”“Here are the others coming, Bill,” cried Nic.—“What are you going to do this time?” he said to the gardener.“Sarcumwent ’em, Master Nic,” said the man, with a grin. “It’s no use to hit at their heads and arms or to poke ’em in the carcass—they don’t mind that; so we’ve been thinking of it out, and we three’s going to hit ’em low down.”“That’s good,” said Solly; “same as we used to sarve the black men out in Jay-may-kee. They’ve all got heads as hard as skittle-balls, but their shins are as tender as a dog’s foot.”Just then five more men came up and received their cudgels; and directly after three more came slouching up; and soon after another couple, and received their arms.“Is this all on us?” said one of the fresh-comers, as the sturdy fellows stood together.“Ay, is this all, Master Nic?” cried another.“Why?” he said sharply.“Because there aren’t enough, sir,” said the first man. “I got to hear on it down the village.”“Ah! you heard news?” cried Nic.“Ay, sir, if you call such ugly stuff as that news. There’s been a bit of a row among ’em, all along o’ Pete Burge.”“Quarrelling among themselves?”“That’s right, sir; ’cause Pete Burge said he wouldn’t have no more to do with it; and they’ve been at him—some on ’em from over yonder at the town. I hear say as there was a fight, and then Pete kep’ on saying he would jyne ’em; and then there was another fight, and Pete Burge licked the second man, and then he says he wouldn’t go. And then there was another fight, and Pete Burge licked Humpy Dee, and Humpy says Pete was a coward, and Pete knocked him flat on the back. ‘I’ll show you whether I’m a coward,’ he says. ‘I didn’t mean to have no more to do wi’ Squire Revel’s zammon,’ he says; ‘but I will go to-night, for the last time, just to show you as I aren’t a cowards,’ he says, ‘and then I’m done.’”“Ay; and he zays,” cried another man from the village, “‘If any one thinks I’m a coward, then let him come and tell me.’”“Then they are coming to-night?” cried Nic, who somehow felt a kind of satisfaction in his adversary’s prowess.“Oh, ay,” said the other man who had grumbled; “they’re a-coming to-night. There’s a big gang coming from the town, and I hear they’re going to bring a cart for the zammon. There’ll be a good thirty on ’em, Master Nic, zir; and I zay we aren’t enough.”“No,” said Nic quietly; “we are not enough, but we are going to have our revenge to-night for all the knocking about we’ve had.”“But we’re not enough, Master Nic. We’re ready to fight, all on us—eh, mates?”“Ay!” came in a deep growl.“But there aren’t enough on us.”“There will be,” said Nic in an eager whisper, “for a strong party of Jack-tars from the king’s ship that was lying off this evening are by this time marching up to help us, and we’re going to give these scoundrels such a thrashing as will sicken them from ever meddling again with my father’s fish.”“Yah!” growled a voice out of the gloom.“Who said that?” cried Nic.“I did, Master Nic,” said the gardener sharply; “and you can tell the Captain if you like. I say it aren’t fair to try and humbug a lot o’ men as is ready to fight for you. It’s like saying ‘rats’ to a dog when there aren’t none.”“Is it?” cried Nic, laughing. “How can that be? You heard just now that there will be about thirty rats for our bulldogs to worry.”“I meant t’other way on, sir,” growled the man sulkily. “No sailor bulldogs to come and help us.”“How dare you say that?” cried Nic angrily.“’Cause I’ve lived off and on about Plymouth all my life and close to the sea, and if I don’t know a king’s ship by this time I ought to. That’s only a lubberly old merchantman. Why, her yards were all anyhow, with not half men enough to keep ’em square.”“Bah!” cried Solly angrily. “Hold your mouth, you one-eyed old tater-grubber. What do you mean by giving the young master the lie?”“That will do, Solly,” cried Nic. “He means right. Look here, my lads; that is a king’s ship, the one commanded by my father’s friend; and he has made her look all rough like that so as to cheat the salmon-gang, and it will have cheated them if it has cheated you.”A cheer was bursting forth, but Nic checked it, and the gardener said huskily:“Master Nic, I beg your pardon. I oughtn’t to ha’ said such a word. It was the king’s ship as humbugged me, and not you. Say, lads, we’re going to have a night of it, eh?”A low buzz of satisfaction arose; and Nic hurried out, to walk in the direction of the signal-staff, where the Captain had gone to look out for their allies.“Who goes there?” came in the old officer’s deep voice.“Only I, father.”“Bah!” cried the Captain in a low, angry voice. “Give the word, sir—‘Tails.’”“The word?—‘Tails!’” said Nic, wonderingly.“Of course. I told you we must have a password, to tell friends from foes.”“Not a word, father.”“What, sir? Humph, no! I remember—I meant to give it to all at once. The word is ‘Tails’ and the countersign is ‘Heads,’ and any one who cannot give it is to have heads. Do you see?”“Oh yes, father, I see; but are the sailors coming?”“Can’t hear anything of them, my boy, and it’s too dark to see; but they must be here soon.”“I hope they will be, father,” said Nic.“Don’t say you hope they will be, as if you felt that they weren’t coming. They’re sure to come, my boy. Jack Lawrence never broke faith. Now, look here; those scoundrels will be here by ten o’clock, some of them, for certain, and we must have our men in ambush first—our men, Nic. Jack Lawrence’s lads I shall place so as to cut off the enemy’s retreat, ready to close in upon them and take them in the rear. Do you see?”“Yes, father; excellent.”“Then I propose that as soon as we hear our reinforcement coming you go off and plant your men in the wood behind the fall. I shall lead the sailors right round you to the other side of the pool; place them; and then there must be perfect silence till the enemy has lit up his torches and got well to work. Then I shall give a shrill whistle on the French bo’sun’s pipe I have in my pocket, you will advance your men and fall to, and we shall come upon them from the other side.”“I see, father.”“But look here, Nic—did you change your things?”“Yes, father; got on the old fishing and wading suit.”“That’s right, boy, for you’ve got your work cut out, and it may mean water as well as land.”“Yes, I expect to be in a pretty pickle,” said Nic, laughing, and beginning to feel excited now. “But do you think the sailors will find their way here in the dark?”“Of course,” cried the Captain sharply. “Jack Lawrence will head them.”“Hist!” whispered Nic, placing his hand to his ear and gazing seaward.“Hear ’em?”Nic was silent for a few moments.“Yes,” he said. “I can hear their soft, easy tramp over the short grass. Listen.”“Right,” said the Captain, as from below them there came out of the darkness the regularthrup,thrupof a body of men marching together. Then, loudly, “king’s men?”“Captain Revel?” came back in reply.“Right. Captain Lawrence there?”“No, sir; he had a sudden summons from the port admiral, and is at Plymouth. He gave me my instructions, sir—Lieutenant Kershaw. I have thirty men here.”“Bravo, my lad!” cried the Captain. “Forward, and follow me to the house. Your men will take a bit of refreshment before we get to work.”“Forward,” said the lieutenant in a low voice, and thethrup,thrupof the footsteps began again, not a man being visible in the gloom.“Off with you, Nic,” whispered the Captain. “Get your men in hiding at once. This is going to be a grand night, my boy. Good luck to you; and I say, Nic, my boy—”“Yes, father.”“No prisoners, but tell the men to hit hard.” Nic went off at a run, and the lieutenant directly after joined the Captain, his men close at hand following behind.
“That’s about their size, Master Nic,” said Solly, as he stood in the coach-house balancing a heavy cudgel in his hand—one of a couple of dozen lying on the top of the corn-bin just through the stable door.
“Oh, the size doesn’t matter, Bill,” said Nic impatiently.
“Begging your pardon, sir, it do,” said the old sailor severely. “You don’t want to kill nobody in a fight such as we’re going to have, do ye?”
“No, no; of course not.”
“There you are, then. Man’s sure to hit as hard as he can when his monkey’s up; and that stick’s just as heavy as you can have ’em without breaking bones. That’s the sort o’ stick as’ll knock a man silly and give him the headache for a week, and sarve him right. If it was half-a-hounce heavier it’d kill him.”
“How do you know?” said Nic sharply.
“How do I know, sir?” said the man wonderingly. “Why, I weighed it.”
Nic would have asked for further explanations; but just then there were steps heard in the yard, and the gardener and a couple of labourers came up in the dusk.
“Oh, there you are,” growled Solly. “Here’s your weepuns;” and he raised three of the cudgels. “You may hit as hard as you like with them. Seen any of the others?”
“Yes,” said the gardener; “there’s two from the village coming along the road, and three of us taking the short cut over the home field. That’s all I see.”
“Humph!” said Solly. “There ought to be five more by this time.”
“Sick on it, p’r’aps,” grumbled the gardener; “and no wonder. We are.”
“What! Are you afraid?” cried Nic.
“No, sir, I aren’t afraid; on’y sick on it. I like a good fight, and so do these here when it’s ’bout fair and ekal, but every time we has a go in t’other side seems to be the flails and we only the corn and straw. They’re too many for us. I’m sick o’ being thrashed, and so’s these here; and that aren’t being afraid.”
“Why, you aren’t going to sneak out of it, are you?” growled Solly.
“No, I aren’t,” said the gardener; “not till I’ve had a good go at that Pete Burge and Master Humpy Dee. But I’m going to sarcumwent ’em this time.”
“Here are the others coming, Bill,” cried Nic.—“What are you going to do this time?” he said to the gardener.
“Sarcumwent ’em, Master Nic,” said the man, with a grin. “It’s no use to hit at their heads and arms or to poke ’em in the carcass—they don’t mind that; so we’ve been thinking of it out, and we three’s going to hit ’em low down.”
“That’s good,” said Solly; “same as we used to sarve the black men out in Jay-may-kee. They’ve all got heads as hard as skittle-balls, but their shins are as tender as a dog’s foot.”
Just then five more men came up and received their cudgels; and directly after three more came slouching up; and soon after another couple, and received their arms.
“Is this all on us?” said one of the fresh-comers, as the sturdy fellows stood together.
“Ay, is this all, Master Nic?” cried another.
“Why?” he said sharply.
“Because there aren’t enough, sir,” said the first man. “I got to hear on it down the village.”
“Ah! you heard news?” cried Nic.
“Ay, sir, if you call such ugly stuff as that news. There’s been a bit of a row among ’em, all along o’ Pete Burge.”
“Quarrelling among themselves?”
“That’s right, sir; ’cause Pete Burge said he wouldn’t have no more to do with it; and they’ve been at him—some on ’em from over yonder at the town. I hear say as there was a fight, and then Pete kep’ on saying he would jyne ’em; and then there was another fight, and Pete Burge licked the second man, and then he says he wouldn’t go. And then there was another fight, and Pete Burge licked Humpy Dee, and Humpy says Pete was a coward, and Pete knocked him flat on the back. ‘I’ll show you whether I’m a coward,’ he says. ‘I didn’t mean to have no more to do wi’ Squire Revel’s zammon,’ he says; ‘but I will go to-night, for the last time, just to show you as I aren’t a cowards,’ he says, ‘and then I’m done.’”
“Ay; and he zays,” cried another man from the village, “‘If any one thinks I’m a coward, then let him come and tell me.’”
“Then they are coming to-night?” cried Nic, who somehow felt a kind of satisfaction in his adversary’s prowess.
“Oh, ay,” said the other man who had grumbled; “they’re a-coming to-night. There’s a big gang coming from the town, and I hear they’re going to bring a cart for the zammon. There’ll be a good thirty on ’em, Master Nic, zir; and I zay we aren’t enough.”
“No,” said Nic quietly; “we are not enough, but we are going to have our revenge to-night for all the knocking about we’ve had.”
“But we’re not enough, Master Nic. We’re ready to fight, all on us—eh, mates?”
“Ay!” came in a deep growl.
“But there aren’t enough on us.”
“There will be,” said Nic in an eager whisper, “for a strong party of Jack-tars from the king’s ship that was lying off this evening are by this time marching up to help us, and we’re going to give these scoundrels such a thrashing as will sicken them from ever meddling again with my father’s fish.”
“Yah!” growled a voice out of the gloom.
“Who said that?” cried Nic.
“I did, Master Nic,” said the gardener sharply; “and you can tell the Captain if you like. I say it aren’t fair to try and humbug a lot o’ men as is ready to fight for you. It’s like saying ‘rats’ to a dog when there aren’t none.”
“Is it?” cried Nic, laughing. “How can that be? You heard just now that there will be about thirty rats for our bulldogs to worry.”
“I meant t’other way on, sir,” growled the man sulkily. “No sailor bulldogs to come and help us.”
“How dare you say that?” cried Nic angrily.
“’Cause I’ve lived off and on about Plymouth all my life and close to the sea, and if I don’t know a king’s ship by this time I ought to. That’s only a lubberly old merchantman. Why, her yards were all anyhow, with not half men enough to keep ’em square.”
“Bah!” cried Solly angrily. “Hold your mouth, you one-eyed old tater-grubber. What do you mean by giving the young master the lie?”
“That will do, Solly,” cried Nic. “He means right. Look here, my lads; that is a king’s ship, the one commanded by my father’s friend; and he has made her look all rough like that so as to cheat the salmon-gang, and it will have cheated them if it has cheated you.”
A cheer was bursting forth, but Nic checked it, and the gardener said huskily:
“Master Nic, I beg your pardon. I oughtn’t to ha’ said such a word. It was the king’s ship as humbugged me, and not you. Say, lads, we’re going to have a night of it, eh?”
A low buzz of satisfaction arose; and Nic hurried out, to walk in the direction of the signal-staff, where the Captain had gone to look out for their allies.
“Who goes there?” came in the old officer’s deep voice.
“Only I, father.”
“Bah!” cried the Captain in a low, angry voice. “Give the word, sir—‘Tails.’”
“The word?—‘Tails!’” said Nic, wonderingly.
“Of course. I told you we must have a password, to tell friends from foes.”
“Not a word, father.”
“What, sir? Humph, no! I remember—I meant to give it to all at once. The word is ‘Tails’ and the countersign is ‘Heads,’ and any one who cannot give it is to have heads. Do you see?”
“Oh yes, father, I see; but are the sailors coming?”
“Can’t hear anything of them, my boy, and it’s too dark to see; but they must be here soon.”
“I hope they will be, father,” said Nic.
“Don’t say you hope they will be, as if you felt that they weren’t coming. They’re sure to come, my boy. Jack Lawrence never broke faith. Now, look here; those scoundrels will be here by ten o’clock, some of them, for certain, and we must have our men in ambush first—our men, Nic. Jack Lawrence’s lads I shall place so as to cut off the enemy’s retreat, ready to close in upon them and take them in the rear. Do you see?”
“Yes, father; excellent.”
“Then I propose that as soon as we hear our reinforcement coming you go off and plant your men in the wood behind the fall. I shall lead the sailors right round you to the other side of the pool; place them; and then there must be perfect silence till the enemy has lit up his torches and got well to work. Then I shall give a shrill whistle on the French bo’sun’s pipe I have in my pocket, you will advance your men and fall to, and we shall come upon them from the other side.”
“I see, father.”
“But look here, Nic—did you change your things?”
“Yes, father; got on the old fishing and wading suit.”
“That’s right, boy, for you’ve got your work cut out, and it may mean water as well as land.”
“Yes, I expect to be in a pretty pickle,” said Nic, laughing, and beginning to feel excited now. “But do you think the sailors will find their way here in the dark?”
“Of course,” cried the Captain sharply. “Jack Lawrence will head them.”
“Hist!” whispered Nic, placing his hand to his ear and gazing seaward.
“Hear ’em?”
Nic was silent for a few moments.
“Yes,” he said. “I can hear their soft, easy tramp over the short grass. Listen.”
“Right,” said the Captain, as from below them there came out of the darkness the regularthrup,thrupof a body of men marching together. Then, loudly, “king’s men?”
“Captain Revel?” came back in reply.
“Right. Captain Lawrence there?”
“No, sir; he had a sudden summons from the port admiral, and is at Plymouth. He gave me my instructions, sir—Lieutenant Kershaw. I have thirty men here.”
“Bravo, my lad!” cried the Captain. “Forward, and follow me to the house. Your men will take a bit of refreshment before we get to work.”
“Forward,” said the lieutenant in a low voice, and thethrup,thrupof the footsteps began again, not a man being visible in the gloom.
“Off with you, Nic,” whispered the Captain. “Get your men in hiding at once. This is going to be a grand night, my boy. Good luck to you; and I say, Nic, my boy—”
“Yes, father.”
“No prisoners, but tell the men to hit hard.” Nic went off at a run, and the lieutenant directly after joined the Captain, his men close at hand following behind.
Chapter Ten.A Night of Nights.Nic’s heart beat fast as he ran lightly along the path, reached the house, and ran round to the stable-yard, where Solly and the men were waiting.“Ready, my lads?” he said in a low, husky voice, full of the excitement he felt.“We’ll go on round to the back of the pool at once. The sailors are here, thirty strong, with their officer; so we ought to give the enemy a severe lesson.—Ah! Don’t cheer. Ready?—Forward. Come, Solly; we’ll lead.”“Precious dark, Master Nic,” growled the old sailor in a hoarse whisper. “We shan’t hardly be able to tell t’other from which.”“Ah! I forgot,” cried Nic excitedly. “Halt! Look here, my men. Our password is ‘Tails,’ and our friends have to answer ‘Heads.’ So, if you are in doubt, cry ‘Tails,’ and if your adversary does not answer ‘Heads’ he’s an enemy.”“Why, a-mussy me, Master Nic?” growled Solly, “we shan’t make heads or tails o’ that in a scrimble-scramble scrimmage such as we’re going to be in. What’s the skipper thinking about? Let me tell ’em what to do.”“You heard your master’s order, Solly,” replied Nic.“Yes, sir, of course; but this here won’t do no harm. Look here, my lads; as soon as ever we’re at it, hit hard at every one who aren’t a Jack. You’ll know them.”Nic felt that this addition could do no harm, so he did not interfere, but led on right past the way down to the falls, which had shrunk now to a little cascade falling with a pleasant murmur, for the draining of the heavy thunder-showers was nearly at an end, and the pool lay calm enough in the black darkness beneath the overhanging rocks and spreading trees—just in the right condition for a raid, and in all probability full of salmon.All at once the old sailor indulged in a burst of chuckles.“Hear something, Bill?” said Nic.“No, my lad, not yet; I was on’y thinking. They was going to bring a cart up the road yonder, waren’t they?”“Yes; one of the men said so,” replied Nic.“Well, we’re a-going to give ’em something to take back in that cart to-night, my lad,” whispered the man, with another chuckle; “and it won’t be fish, nor it won’t be fowl. My fingers is a-tingling so that I thought something was the matter, and I tried to change my stick from my right hand into my left.”“Well, what of that?” said Nic contemptuously; “it was only pins and needles.”“Nay, Master Nic, it waren’t that. I’ve been a sailor in the king’s ships and have had it before. It was the fighting-stuff running down to the very tips of my fingers, and they wouldn’t let go.”“Hush! don’t talk now,” whispered Nic; “there may be one or two of the enemy yonder.”“Nay, it’s a bit too soon for ’em, sir; but it’ll be as well to keep quiet.”The narrow paths of the tangled wilderness at the back of the pool were so well known to all present that their young leader had no difficulty in getting them stationed by twos and threes well down the sides of the gorge on shelves and ledges where the bushes and ferns grew thickly, from whence, when the poachers were well at work, it would be easy to spring down into the water and make the attack. For the flood had so far subsided now that the worst hole was not above five feet deep, and the greater part about three, with a fairly even bottom of ground-down rock smoothed by the pebbles washed over it in flood-time.Here it was that the salmon for the most part congregated, the new-comers from the sea taking naturally to the haunts of their forerunners from time immemorial, so that poacher or honest fisher pretty well knew where he would be most successful.Nic chose a central spot for himself and Solly, some four feet above the level of the black water, and after ranging his men to right and left he sat down to wait, with all silent and dark around, save for the murmur of the water and the gleaming of a star or two overhead, for besides this there was not a glint of light. Still, the place seemed to stand out before him. Exactly opposite, across the pool, was the narrow opening between the steep rocks on either side; and he knew without telling that as soon as the poachers began their work his father would send some of his active allies into the bed of the stream lower down, to advance upward, probably before the whistle was blown.“And then the scoundrels will be in a regular trap before they know it,” thought Nic, as he strained his ears to catch the sound of the sailors being stationed in their hiding-places; but all was still save the soft humming roar of the falling water plunging into the pool.An hour passed very slowly, and Nic’s cramped position began to affect him with the tingling sensation known as pins and needles; this he did not attribute to the movement of his nerve-currents eager to reach his toes and fill him with a desire to kick his enemies, but quietly changed his position and waited, trembling with excitement, and longing now to get the matter over, fully satisfied as he was that his friends were all in position and ready for the fray.At last!There was a sharp crack, as if someone had trodden upon a piece of dead-wood away up to the right. Then another crack and a rustling, and an evident disregard of caution.“Come along, my lads,” said a low, harsh voice; and then there was a splash, as if a man had lowered himself into the water. “They had enough of it last time, and won’t come this, I’ll wager. If they do, we’re half as many again, and we’ll give ’em such a drubbing as’ll stop ’em for long enough.”“Needn’t shout and holloa,” said another voice from the side. “Keep quiet. We don’t want to fight unless we’re obliged.”“Oh no, of course not!” said the man with the harsh voice mockingly. “If we do have to, my lads, two of you had better take Pete Burge home to his mother.”There was a low laugh at this, and Pete remained silent as far as making any retort was concerned, but directly after Nic felt a singular thrill run through him as the man said softly:“Three of you get there to the mouth and drop the net across and hold it, for the fish will make a rush that way. Don’t be afraid of the water. Shove the bottom line well round the stones, and keep your feet on it. A lot got away last time.”There was the sound of the water washing as men waded along the side of the great circular pool, and then the whishing of a net being dropped down and arranged.“Ha, ha!” laughed a man; “there’s one of ’em. Come back again’ my legs. He’s in the net now. Can’t get through.”“Now then,” cried the harsh-voiced fellow; “open those lanthorns and get your links alight, so as we can see what we’re about.”“Not zo much noise, Humpy Dee,” said Pete sharply, as the light of three lanthorns which had been carried beneath sacks gleamed out over the water, and the light rapidly increased as dark figures could be seen lighting torches from the feeble candles and then waving their sticks of oakum and pitch to make them blaze, so that others could also start the links they carried.At first the light was feeble, and a good deal of black smoke arose, but soon after over a dozen torches were burning brightly, showing quite a little crowd of men, standing in the black water, armed with hooks and fish-spears, and each with a stout staff stuck in his belt.The scene was weird and strange, the light reflected from the cliff-like sides of the pool seeming to be condensed upon the surface; and the faces of the marauders gleamed strangely above the flashing water, beginning to be agitated now by the startled salmon; while rising upward there was a gathering cloud of black, stifling smoke.“Ready there with that net,” cried Humpy Dee, a broad-shouldered, dwarfed man, whose head was deep down between his shoulders.“Ay, ay!” came from the mouth of the pool.“Less noise,” cried Pete angrily. “Here, you, Jack Willick, and you, Nat Barrow, go up towards the house and give us word if anyone’s coming, so as we may be ready.”“To run?” snarled Humpy Dee. “Stop where you are, lads. If the old squire meant to come with his gang he’d ha’ been here afore now, and—”Phee-yew!The Captain’s shrill silver whistle rang out loudly at this instant, and Nic and his men grasped their cudgels more tightly.“Now for it, lads,” he shouted, and he sprang from his ledge into the water and made at Humpy Dee.
Nic’s heart beat fast as he ran lightly along the path, reached the house, and ran round to the stable-yard, where Solly and the men were waiting.
“Ready, my lads?” he said in a low, husky voice, full of the excitement he felt.
“We’ll go on round to the back of the pool at once. The sailors are here, thirty strong, with their officer; so we ought to give the enemy a severe lesson.—Ah! Don’t cheer. Ready?—Forward. Come, Solly; we’ll lead.”
“Precious dark, Master Nic,” growled the old sailor in a hoarse whisper. “We shan’t hardly be able to tell t’other from which.”
“Ah! I forgot,” cried Nic excitedly. “Halt! Look here, my men. Our password is ‘Tails,’ and our friends have to answer ‘Heads.’ So, if you are in doubt, cry ‘Tails,’ and if your adversary does not answer ‘Heads’ he’s an enemy.”
“Why, a-mussy me, Master Nic?” growled Solly, “we shan’t make heads or tails o’ that in a scrimble-scramble scrimmage such as we’re going to be in. What’s the skipper thinking about? Let me tell ’em what to do.”
“You heard your master’s order, Solly,” replied Nic.
“Yes, sir, of course; but this here won’t do no harm. Look here, my lads; as soon as ever we’re at it, hit hard at every one who aren’t a Jack. You’ll know them.”
Nic felt that this addition could do no harm, so he did not interfere, but led on right past the way down to the falls, which had shrunk now to a little cascade falling with a pleasant murmur, for the draining of the heavy thunder-showers was nearly at an end, and the pool lay calm enough in the black darkness beneath the overhanging rocks and spreading trees—just in the right condition for a raid, and in all probability full of salmon.
All at once the old sailor indulged in a burst of chuckles.
“Hear something, Bill?” said Nic.
“No, my lad, not yet; I was on’y thinking. They was going to bring a cart up the road yonder, waren’t they?”
“Yes; one of the men said so,” replied Nic.
“Well, we’re a-going to give ’em something to take back in that cart to-night, my lad,” whispered the man, with another chuckle; “and it won’t be fish, nor it won’t be fowl. My fingers is a-tingling so that I thought something was the matter, and I tried to change my stick from my right hand into my left.”
“Well, what of that?” said Nic contemptuously; “it was only pins and needles.”
“Nay, Master Nic, it waren’t that. I’ve been a sailor in the king’s ships and have had it before. It was the fighting-stuff running down to the very tips of my fingers, and they wouldn’t let go.”
“Hush! don’t talk now,” whispered Nic; “there may be one or two of the enemy yonder.”
“Nay, it’s a bit too soon for ’em, sir; but it’ll be as well to keep quiet.”
The narrow paths of the tangled wilderness at the back of the pool were so well known to all present that their young leader had no difficulty in getting them stationed by twos and threes well down the sides of the gorge on shelves and ledges where the bushes and ferns grew thickly, from whence, when the poachers were well at work, it would be easy to spring down into the water and make the attack. For the flood had so far subsided now that the worst hole was not above five feet deep, and the greater part about three, with a fairly even bottom of ground-down rock smoothed by the pebbles washed over it in flood-time.
Here it was that the salmon for the most part congregated, the new-comers from the sea taking naturally to the haunts of their forerunners from time immemorial, so that poacher or honest fisher pretty well knew where he would be most successful.
Nic chose a central spot for himself and Solly, some four feet above the level of the black water, and after ranging his men to right and left he sat down to wait, with all silent and dark around, save for the murmur of the water and the gleaming of a star or two overhead, for besides this there was not a glint of light. Still, the place seemed to stand out before him. Exactly opposite, across the pool, was the narrow opening between the steep rocks on either side; and he knew without telling that as soon as the poachers began their work his father would send some of his active allies into the bed of the stream lower down, to advance upward, probably before the whistle was blown.
“And then the scoundrels will be in a regular trap before they know it,” thought Nic, as he strained his ears to catch the sound of the sailors being stationed in their hiding-places; but all was still save the soft humming roar of the falling water plunging into the pool.
An hour passed very slowly, and Nic’s cramped position began to affect him with the tingling sensation known as pins and needles; this he did not attribute to the movement of his nerve-currents eager to reach his toes and fill him with a desire to kick his enemies, but quietly changed his position and waited, trembling with excitement, and longing now to get the matter over, fully satisfied as he was that his friends were all in position and ready for the fray.
At last!
There was a sharp crack, as if someone had trodden upon a piece of dead-wood away up to the right. Then another crack and a rustling, and an evident disregard of caution.
“Come along, my lads,” said a low, harsh voice; and then there was a splash, as if a man had lowered himself into the water. “They had enough of it last time, and won’t come this, I’ll wager. If they do, we’re half as many again, and we’ll give ’em such a drubbing as’ll stop ’em for long enough.”
“Needn’t shout and holloa,” said another voice from the side. “Keep quiet. We don’t want to fight unless we’re obliged.”
“Oh no, of course not!” said the man with the harsh voice mockingly. “If we do have to, my lads, two of you had better take Pete Burge home to his mother.”
There was a low laugh at this, and Pete remained silent as far as making any retort was concerned, but directly after Nic felt a singular thrill run through him as the man said softly:
“Three of you get there to the mouth and drop the net across and hold it, for the fish will make a rush that way. Don’t be afraid of the water. Shove the bottom line well round the stones, and keep your feet on it. A lot got away last time.”
There was the sound of the water washing as men waded along the side of the great circular pool, and then the whishing of a net being dropped down and arranged.
“Ha, ha!” laughed a man; “there’s one of ’em. Come back again’ my legs. He’s in the net now. Can’t get through.”
“Now then,” cried the harsh-voiced fellow; “open those lanthorns and get your links alight, so as we can see what we’re about.”
“Not zo much noise, Humpy Dee,” said Pete sharply, as the light of three lanthorns which had been carried beneath sacks gleamed out over the water, and the light rapidly increased as dark figures could be seen lighting torches from the feeble candles and then waving their sticks of oakum and pitch to make them blaze, so that others could also start the links they carried.
At first the light was feeble, and a good deal of black smoke arose, but soon after over a dozen torches were burning brightly, showing quite a little crowd of men, standing in the black water, armed with hooks and fish-spears, and each with a stout staff stuck in his belt.
The scene was weird and strange, the light reflected from the cliff-like sides of the pool seeming to be condensed upon the surface; and the faces of the marauders gleamed strangely above the flashing water, beginning to be agitated now by the startled salmon; while rising upward there was a gathering cloud of black, stifling smoke.
“Ready there with that net,” cried Humpy Dee, a broad-shouldered, dwarfed man, whose head was deep down between his shoulders.
“Ay, ay!” came from the mouth of the pool.
“Less noise,” cried Pete angrily. “Here, you, Jack Willick, and you, Nat Barrow, go up towards the house and give us word if anyone’s coming, so as we may be ready.”
“To run?” snarled Humpy Dee. “Stop where you are, lads. If the old squire meant to come with his gang he’d ha’ been here afore now, and—”
Phee-yew!
The Captain’s shrill silver whistle rang out loudly at this instant, and Nic and his men grasped their cudgels more tightly.
“Now for it, lads,” he shouted, and he sprang from his ledge into the water and made at Humpy Dee.
Chapter Eleven.A Black Night.Nic’s cry was answered by a loud cheer from his men, which seemed to paralyse the enemy—some thirty strong, who stood staring, the torch-bearers holding their smoky lights on high—giving the party from the Point plenty of opportunity for picking their men, as they followed their leader’s example and leaped into the pool. This caused a rush of the fish towards the lights for the most part, though many made for the gap to follow the stream, shooting against the net, which was held tightly in its place.“There, go home, you set of ugly fools, before you’re hurt,” cried the deformed man, with a snarl like that of a wild beast. “What! You will have it? Come on, then. Hi, there! hold the links higher, and let us see their thick heads. Give it to ’em hard.”Emboldened by old successes, two wings of the gang whipped out their sticks and took a step or two forward, to stand firm on either side of the deformed man, who was a step in front. The next minute the fray had commenced, Nic leading off with a tremendous cut from his left at Humpy Dee’s head.For the young man’s blood was up; he was the captain of the little party, and he knew that everything depended upon him. If he fought well they would stand by him to a man, as they had shown before. If, on the other hand, he seemed timid and careful, they would show a disposition to act on the defensive. That would not do now, as Nic well knew. His object was to make a brave charge and stagger the enemy, so that they might become the easier victims to panic when they found that they were attacked by a strong party in the rear.Crack! went Nic’s stout stick, as he struck with all his might; andcrick,crick,crack,crash! went a score or more, mingled with shouts of defiance.But Nic’s cudgel did not give forth its sharp sound from contact with the leader’s head, for he had to do with a clever cudgel-player as well as one who had often proved his power as a tricky wrestler in contests with the best men of the neighbouring farthest west county. Nic’s blow was cleverly caught on as stout a cudgel, and the next moment his left arm fell numb to his side.He struck savagely now, making up for want of skill by the rain of blows he dealt at his adversary, and thus saved himself from being beaten down into the water at once.But it was all in vain.On the other hand, though his men did better, being more equally matched they did not cause the panic Nic had hoped for, and the enemy kept their ground; while the torches spluttered, blazed, and smoked, and to the spectators the amphitheatre during those few brief moments looked wild and strange as some feverish dream.But, as before said, Nic’s brave efforts were all in vain. His muscles were too soft and green, and he was, in addition to being young, no adept in the handling of a stick. He fought bravely, but he had not the strength to keep it up against this short, iron-muscled, skilful foe. He was aware of it only too soon, for his guard was beaten down, and he saw stars and flashes of light as he received a sharp blow from his adversary’s stick. Then he felt himself caught by the throat, and by the light of one of the torches he saw the man’s cudgel in the act of falling once more for a blow which he could only weakly parry, when another cudgel flashed by, there was a crack just over his head, and Humpy Dee uttered a yell of rage.“You coward!” he roared. “Take that!” and quick as a flash Nic made out that he struck at some one else, and attributed the side-blow in his defence to Solly, who was, he believed, close by.At that moment a loud, imperious voice from somewhere in front and above shouted, so that the rocks echoed:“Hold hard below there!”Nic involuntarily lowered his cudgel and stood panting, giddy, and sick, listening.“Yah! never mind him,” roared Humpy. “You, Pete, I’ll pay you afterwards.”“Now, boys, down with you.”“The poachers’ companions,” cried one of Nic’s men, and they stepped forward to the attack again, when a pistol-shot rang out and was multiplied by the rocky sides of the arena, making the combatants pause, so that the voice from above was plainly heard:“Below there, you scoundrels! Surrender in the king’s name. You are surrounded.”“Brag, my lads!” roared Humpy Dee. “Stand to it, boys, and haul the beggars out.”There was a moment’s pause, just enough for the next words to be heard:“At ’em, lads! You’ve got ’em, every man.”A roaring cheer followed, and Nic saw the torches through the cloud that seemed to be thickening around them. He could hear shouts, which grew louder and fiercer. There was the rattle of cudgels, savage yells seemed to be bellowed in his ears, and he felt himself thrust and struck and hauled here and there as a desperate fight went on for his possession. Then, close at hand, there was a deafening cheer, a tremendous shock, the rattle of blows, and he was down upon his knees. Lastly, in a faint, dreamy way, he was conscious of the rush of cold water about his face, in his ears the thundering noise of total immersion, with the hot, strangling sense of drowning; and then all was blank darkness, and he knew no more.
Nic’s cry was answered by a loud cheer from his men, which seemed to paralyse the enemy—some thirty strong, who stood staring, the torch-bearers holding their smoky lights on high—giving the party from the Point plenty of opportunity for picking their men, as they followed their leader’s example and leaped into the pool. This caused a rush of the fish towards the lights for the most part, though many made for the gap to follow the stream, shooting against the net, which was held tightly in its place.
“There, go home, you set of ugly fools, before you’re hurt,” cried the deformed man, with a snarl like that of a wild beast. “What! You will have it? Come on, then. Hi, there! hold the links higher, and let us see their thick heads. Give it to ’em hard.”
Emboldened by old successes, two wings of the gang whipped out their sticks and took a step or two forward, to stand firm on either side of the deformed man, who was a step in front. The next minute the fray had commenced, Nic leading off with a tremendous cut from his left at Humpy Dee’s head.
For the young man’s blood was up; he was the captain of the little party, and he knew that everything depended upon him. If he fought well they would stand by him to a man, as they had shown before. If, on the other hand, he seemed timid and careful, they would show a disposition to act on the defensive. That would not do now, as Nic well knew. His object was to make a brave charge and stagger the enemy, so that they might become the easier victims to panic when they found that they were attacked by a strong party in the rear.
Crack! went Nic’s stout stick, as he struck with all his might; andcrick,crick,crack,crash! went a score or more, mingled with shouts of defiance.
But Nic’s cudgel did not give forth its sharp sound from contact with the leader’s head, for he had to do with a clever cudgel-player as well as one who had often proved his power as a tricky wrestler in contests with the best men of the neighbouring farthest west county. Nic’s blow was cleverly caught on as stout a cudgel, and the next moment his left arm fell numb to his side.
He struck savagely now, making up for want of skill by the rain of blows he dealt at his adversary, and thus saved himself from being beaten down into the water at once.
But it was all in vain.
On the other hand, though his men did better, being more equally matched they did not cause the panic Nic had hoped for, and the enemy kept their ground; while the torches spluttered, blazed, and smoked, and to the spectators the amphitheatre during those few brief moments looked wild and strange as some feverish dream.
But, as before said, Nic’s brave efforts were all in vain. His muscles were too soft and green, and he was, in addition to being young, no adept in the handling of a stick. He fought bravely, but he had not the strength to keep it up against this short, iron-muscled, skilful foe. He was aware of it only too soon, for his guard was beaten down, and he saw stars and flashes of light as he received a sharp blow from his adversary’s stick. Then he felt himself caught by the throat, and by the light of one of the torches he saw the man’s cudgel in the act of falling once more for a blow which he could only weakly parry, when another cudgel flashed by, there was a crack just over his head, and Humpy Dee uttered a yell of rage.
“You coward!” he roared. “Take that!” and quick as a flash Nic made out that he struck at some one else, and attributed the side-blow in his defence to Solly, who was, he believed, close by.
At that moment a loud, imperious voice from somewhere in front and above shouted, so that the rocks echoed:
“Hold hard below there!”
Nic involuntarily lowered his cudgel and stood panting, giddy, and sick, listening.
“Yah! never mind him,” roared Humpy. “You, Pete, I’ll pay you afterwards.”
“Now, boys, down with you.”
“The poachers’ companions,” cried one of Nic’s men, and they stepped forward to the attack again, when a pistol-shot rang out and was multiplied by the rocky sides of the arena, making the combatants pause, so that the voice from above was plainly heard:
“Below there, you scoundrels! Surrender in the king’s name. You are surrounded.”
“Brag, my lads!” roared Humpy Dee. “Stand to it, boys, and haul the beggars out.”
There was a moment’s pause, just enough for the next words to be heard:
“At ’em, lads! You’ve got ’em, every man.”
A roaring cheer followed, and Nic saw the torches through the cloud that seemed to be thickening around them. He could hear shouts, which grew louder and fiercer. There was the rattle of cudgels, savage yells seemed to be bellowed in his ears, and he felt himself thrust and struck and hauled here and there as a desperate fight went on for his possession. Then, close at hand, there was a deafening cheer, a tremendous shock, the rattle of blows, and he was down upon his knees. Lastly, in a faint, dreamy way, he was conscious of the rush of cold water about his face, in his ears the thundering noise of total immersion, with the hot, strangling sense of drowning; and then all was blank darkness, and he knew no more.
Chapter Twelve.A Strange Awakening.Another storm seemed to have gathered in Dartmoor—a terrible storm, which sent the rain down in sheets, which creaked and groaned as they washed to and fro, and every now and then struck against the rocks with a noise like thunder. Great stones seemed to be torn up and thrown here and there, making the shepherds shout as they tried to keep their flocks together under the shelter of some granite for, while down by the falls at the salmon-pool the water came over as it had never come before.Nic had a faint recollection of his fight with Humpy Dee, and of some one coming to take his part, with the result that they were all tangled up together till they were forced beneath the water. This must have separated them, so that he was quite alone now, being carried round and round the pool, rising and falling in a regular way, till he came beneath the falls, when down came the tons of water upon his head, driving him beneath the surface, to glide on in the darkness, feeling sick and half-suffocated, while his head burned and throbbed as if it would burst.It did not seem to matter much, but it appeared very strange; and this must be drowning, but it took such a long time, and went on and on, repeating itself in the same way as if it would never end.That part of it was very strange, too—that light; and it puzzled Nic exceedingly, for it seemed to be impossible that he should be going round and round in the salmon-pool, to be sucked under the falls, and feel the water come thundering upon his head with a crash and creak and groan, and in the midst of it for a lanthorn to come slowly along till it was quite close to him, and voices to be heard.After seeing it again and again, he felt that he understood what it was. He had been drowned, and they were coming with a lanthorn to look for his body; but they never found it, though they came and stood talking about him over and over again.At last he heard what was said quite plainly, but he only knew one voice out of the three that spoke, and he could not make out whose that was.The voice said, “Better, sir, to-day;” and another voice said, “Oh yes, you’re getting all right now: head’s healing nicely. The sooner you get up on deck and find your sea-legs the better.”“Oh, I shall be all right there, sir.”“Been to sea before?”“In fishing craft, sir—often. But would you mind telling me, sir, where we’re going?”“Oh, you’ll know soon enough, my lad. Well: America and the West Indies.”“This must be a dream,” thought Nic; and he was lying wondering, when the light was suddenly held close to him, and he could see over his head beams and planks and iron rings and ropes, which made it all more puzzling than ever.Then a cool hand touched his brow, and it seemed as if a bandage was removed, cool water laved the part which ached and burned, and a fresh bandage was fastened on.“Won’t die, will he, sir?” said the voice Nic knew but could not quite make out.“Oh no, not now, my lad. He has had a near shave, and been none the better for knocking about in this storm; but he’s young and healthy, and the fever is not quite so high this morning.—Hold the light nearer, Jeffs.—Hallo! Look at his eyes; he can hear what we say.—Coming round, then, my lad?”“Yes,” said Nic feebly, “round and round. The falls will not come on my head any more, will they?”Crash—rush! and Nic groaned, for down came the water again, and the young man nearly swooned in his agony, while a deathly sensation of giddiness attacked him.“Head seems to be all right now,” said the third voice.“Yes, healing nicely; but he ought to have been sent ashore to the hospital.”“Oh, I don’t know. Bit of practice.”The roar and rush ceased, and the terrible sinking sensation passed off a little.“Drink this, my lad,” said a voice, and Nic felt himself raised; something nasty was trickled between his lips, and he was lowered down again, and it was dark, while the burning pain, the giddiness, and the going round the pool and under the falls went on over and over in a dreamy, distant way once more. Then there was a long, drowsy space, and the sound of the falls grew subdued.At last Nic lay puzzling his weary, confused head as to the meaning of a strange creaking, and a peculiar rising and falling, and why it was that he did not feel wet.Just then from out of the darkness there was a low whistling sound, which he recognised as part of a tune he had often heard, and it was so pleasant to hear that he lay quite still listening till it ended, when he fell asleep, and seemed to wake again directly, with the melody of the old country ditty being repeated softly close at hand.“Who’s that?” he said at last; and there was a start, and a voice—that voice he could not make out—cried:“Hullo, Master Nic! glad to hear you speak zensible again.”“Speak—sensible—why shouldn’t I?”“I d’know, zir. But you have been going it a rum ’un. Feel better?”“Feel—better. I don’t know. Who is it?”“Me, sir.”“Yes, yes,” cried Nic querulously; “but who is it?”“Pete Burge, sir.”“Pete—Burge,” said Nic thoughtfully, and he lay very still trying to think; but he could not manage it, for the water in the pool seemed to be bearing him along, and now he was gliding up, and then down again, while his companion kept on talk, talk, talk, in a low murmur, and all was blank once more.Then a change came, and Nic lay thinking a little more clearly.“Are you there, Pete Burge?” he said.“Yes, I’m here, master.”“What was that you were saying to me just now?”“Just now?” said the man wonderingly. “Well, you do go on queer, zir. That was the day afore yes’day. But I zay, you are better now, aren’t you?”“Better? I don’t know. I thought I was drowned.”“Poor lad!” said Pete softly; but it seemed to sting Nic.“What do you mean by that?” he said feebly.“Zorry for you, master.”“Why?”“’Cause you’ve been zo bad.”“Been so bad?” said Nic thoughtfully. “Why have I been so bad? It’s very strange.”Pete Burge made no reply, and there was silence again, till it was broken by Nic, who said suddenly:“Have you been very bad too?”“Me, zir? Yes, horrid. Thought I was going to the locker, as they call it. Doctor zaid I ought to have been took to the hospital.”“Were you nearly drowned?” said Nic after a pause, during which he had to fight hard to keep his thinking power under control.“Was I nearly drowned, zir?” said the man, with a low chuckle. “Zeems to me I was nearly everythinged. Head smashed, chopped, choked, and drowned too.”Nic was silent again, for he could not take in so many ideas as this at once, and it was some minutes before he could collect himself for another question.“But you are better now?”“Oh yes, zir, I’m better now. Doctor zays I’m to get up to-morrow.”“The doctor! Was that the doctor whom I heard talking yesterday?”“Yes: two of ’em; they’ve pulled uz round wonderful. You frightened me horrid, master, the way you went on, and just when I was most bad. You made me feel it was all my fault, and I couldn’t zleep for thinking that if you died I’d killed you. But I zay, master, you won’t die now, will you?”“How absurd!” said Nic, with a weak laugh. “Of course not. Why should I die now?”“Ah, why indeed, when you’re getting better?”There was another silence before Nic began again.“I’ve been wondering,” he said, “why it is that we can be going round the salmon-pool like this, and yet be lying here talking about the doctor and being bad.”“Ay, ’tis rum, sir.”“Yes, it puzzles me. Look here; didn’t we have a fight with you and your men to-night?”“We had a big fight, sir; but it waren’t to-night.”“But it’s quite dark still, and I suppose it’s my head being giddy that makes me feel that we’re going up and down.”“Oh no, it aren’t, zir,” said the man, laughing; “we’re going up and down bad enough. Not zo bad as we have been.”“And round and round?”“No; not going round, master.”“But where are we?” said Nic eagerly.“Ah, that puzzles you, do it, zir? Well, it puzzled me at first, till I asked; and then the doctor zaid we was in the cockpit, but I haven’t heard any battle-cocks crowing, and you can’t zee now, it’s zo dark. Black enough, though, for a pit.”“Cockpit—cockpit!” said Nic. “Why, that’s on board ship.”“To be zure.”“But we are not on board ship?”“Aren’t we?” said the man.“I—I don’t understand,” cried Nic after a pause. “My head is all confused and strange. Tell me what it all means.”Pete Burge was silent.“Poor lad!” he said to himself; “how’s he going to take it when he knows all?”“You do not speak,” said Nic excitedly. “Ah! I am beginning to think clearly now. You came with the men after the salmon?”“Ay, worse luck. I didn’t want to, but I had to go.”“Come,” said Nic sharply. “To-night, wasn’t it?”“Nay. It’s ’bout three weeks ago, master.”This announcement, though almost a repetition, seemed to stun Nic for the time; but he began again:“We had a desperate fight, didn’t we?”“Worst I was ever in.”“And—yes, I remember; we were struggling in the pool when the sailors came.”“That’s it, master; you’ve got it now.”“But your side won, then, and I’m a prisoner?”“Nay; your side won, master.”“How can that be?” cried Nic.“’Cause it is. They was too many for uz. They come down like thunder on uz, and ’fore we knowed where we was we was tied up in twos and being marched away.”“Our side won?” said Nic, in his confusion.“That’s right, master. You zee, they told Humpy Dee and the rest to give in, and they wouldn’t; so the zailor officer wouldn’t stand no nonsense. His men begun with sticks; but, as our zide made a big fight of it, they whips out their cutlashes and used them. I got one chop, and you nearly had it, and when two or three more had had a taste of the sharp edge they begun to give in; and, as I telled you, next thing we was tied two and two and marched down to the river, pitched into the bottoms of two boats, and rowed aboard a ship as zet zail at once; and next night we was pitched down into the boats again and hoisted aboard this ship, as was lying off Plymouth waiting to start.”“Waiting to sail?”“That’s right, master! And I s’pose she went off at once, but I was too bad to know anything about it. When I could begin to understand I was lying here in this hammock, and the doctor telled me.”“One moment. Where are the others?”“All aboard, sir—that is, twenty-two with uz.”“Some of our men too?”“Nay, zir; on’y our gang.”“But I don’t understand, quite,” said Nic pitifully. “I want to know why they have brought me. Tell me, Pete Burge—my head is getting confused again—tell me why I am here.”“Mistake, I s’pose, sir. Thought, zeeing you all rough-looking and covered with blood, as you was one of us.”Nic lay with his head turned in the speaker’s direction, battling with the horrible despairing thoughts which came like a flood over his disordered brain; but they were too much for him. He tried to speak; but the dark waters of the pool were there again, and the next minute he felt as if he had been drawn by the current beneath the fall, and all was mental darkness and the old confusion once more.
Another storm seemed to have gathered in Dartmoor—a terrible storm, which sent the rain down in sheets, which creaked and groaned as they washed to and fro, and every now and then struck against the rocks with a noise like thunder. Great stones seemed to be torn up and thrown here and there, making the shepherds shout as they tried to keep their flocks together under the shelter of some granite for, while down by the falls at the salmon-pool the water came over as it had never come before.
Nic had a faint recollection of his fight with Humpy Dee, and of some one coming to take his part, with the result that they were all tangled up together till they were forced beneath the water. This must have separated them, so that he was quite alone now, being carried round and round the pool, rising and falling in a regular way, till he came beneath the falls, when down came the tons of water upon his head, driving him beneath the surface, to glide on in the darkness, feeling sick and half-suffocated, while his head burned and throbbed as if it would burst.
It did not seem to matter much, but it appeared very strange; and this must be drowning, but it took such a long time, and went on and on, repeating itself in the same way as if it would never end.
That part of it was very strange, too—that light; and it puzzled Nic exceedingly, for it seemed to be impossible that he should be going round and round in the salmon-pool, to be sucked under the falls, and feel the water come thundering upon his head with a crash and creak and groan, and in the midst of it for a lanthorn to come slowly along till it was quite close to him, and voices to be heard.
After seeing it again and again, he felt that he understood what it was. He had been drowned, and they were coming with a lanthorn to look for his body; but they never found it, though they came and stood talking about him over and over again.
At last he heard what was said quite plainly, but he only knew one voice out of the three that spoke, and he could not make out whose that was.
The voice said, “Better, sir, to-day;” and another voice said, “Oh yes, you’re getting all right now: head’s healing nicely. The sooner you get up on deck and find your sea-legs the better.”
“Oh, I shall be all right there, sir.”
“Been to sea before?”
“In fishing craft, sir—often. But would you mind telling me, sir, where we’re going?”
“Oh, you’ll know soon enough, my lad. Well: America and the West Indies.”
“This must be a dream,” thought Nic; and he was lying wondering, when the light was suddenly held close to him, and he could see over his head beams and planks and iron rings and ropes, which made it all more puzzling than ever.
Then a cool hand touched his brow, and it seemed as if a bandage was removed, cool water laved the part which ached and burned, and a fresh bandage was fastened on.
“Won’t die, will he, sir?” said the voice Nic knew but could not quite make out.
“Oh no, not now, my lad. He has had a near shave, and been none the better for knocking about in this storm; but he’s young and healthy, and the fever is not quite so high this morning.—Hold the light nearer, Jeffs.—Hallo! Look at his eyes; he can hear what we say.—Coming round, then, my lad?”
“Yes,” said Nic feebly, “round and round. The falls will not come on my head any more, will they?”
Crash—rush! and Nic groaned, for down came the water again, and the young man nearly swooned in his agony, while a deathly sensation of giddiness attacked him.
“Head seems to be all right now,” said the third voice.
“Yes, healing nicely; but he ought to have been sent ashore to the hospital.”
“Oh, I don’t know. Bit of practice.”
The roar and rush ceased, and the terrible sinking sensation passed off a little.
“Drink this, my lad,” said a voice, and Nic felt himself raised; something nasty was trickled between his lips, and he was lowered down again, and it was dark, while the burning pain, the giddiness, and the going round the pool and under the falls went on over and over in a dreamy, distant way once more. Then there was a long, drowsy space, and the sound of the falls grew subdued.
At last Nic lay puzzling his weary, confused head as to the meaning of a strange creaking, and a peculiar rising and falling, and why it was that he did not feel wet.
Just then from out of the darkness there was a low whistling sound, which he recognised as part of a tune he had often heard, and it was so pleasant to hear that he lay quite still listening till it ended, when he fell asleep, and seemed to wake again directly, with the melody of the old country ditty being repeated softly close at hand.
“Who’s that?” he said at last; and there was a start, and a voice—that voice he could not make out—cried:
“Hullo, Master Nic! glad to hear you speak zensible again.”
“Speak—sensible—why shouldn’t I?”
“I d’know, zir. But you have been going it a rum ’un. Feel better?”
“Feel—better. I don’t know. Who is it?”
“Me, sir.”
“Yes, yes,” cried Nic querulously; “but who is it?”
“Pete Burge, sir.”
“Pete—Burge,” said Nic thoughtfully, and he lay very still trying to think; but he could not manage it, for the water in the pool seemed to be bearing him along, and now he was gliding up, and then down again, while his companion kept on talk, talk, talk, in a low murmur, and all was blank once more.
Then a change came, and Nic lay thinking a little more clearly.
“Are you there, Pete Burge?” he said.
“Yes, I’m here, master.”
“What was that you were saying to me just now?”
“Just now?” said the man wonderingly. “Well, you do go on queer, zir. That was the day afore yes’day. But I zay, you are better now, aren’t you?”
“Better? I don’t know. I thought I was drowned.”
“Poor lad!” said Pete softly; but it seemed to sting Nic.
“What do you mean by that?” he said feebly.
“Zorry for you, master.”
“Why?”
“’Cause you’ve been zo bad.”
“Been so bad?” said Nic thoughtfully. “Why have I been so bad? It’s very strange.”
Pete Burge made no reply, and there was silence again, till it was broken by Nic, who said suddenly:
“Have you been very bad too?”
“Me, zir? Yes, horrid. Thought I was going to the locker, as they call it. Doctor zaid I ought to have been took to the hospital.”
“Were you nearly drowned?” said Nic after a pause, during which he had to fight hard to keep his thinking power under control.
“Was I nearly drowned, zir?” said the man, with a low chuckle. “Zeems to me I was nearly everythinged. Head smashed, chopped, choked, and drowned too.”
Nic was silent again, for he could not take in so many ideas as this at once, and it was some minutes before he could collect himself for another question.
“But you are better now?”
“Oh yes, zir, I’m better now. Doctor zays I’m to get up to-morrow.”
“The doctor! Was that the doctor whom I heard talking yesterday?”
“Yes: two of ’em; they’ve pulled uz round wonderful. You frightened me horrid, master, the way you went on, and just when I was most bad. You made me feel it was all my fault, and I couldn’t zleep for thinking that if you died I’d killed you. But I zay, master, you won’t die now, will you?”
“How absurd!” said Nic, with a weak laugh. “Of course not. Why should I die now?”
“Ah, why indeed, when you’re getting better?”
There was another silence before Nic began again.
“I’ve been wondering,” he said, “why it is that we can be going round the salmon-pool like this, and yet be lying here talking about the doctor and being bad.”
“Ay, ’tis rum, sir.”
“Yes, it puzzles me. Look here; didn’t we have a fight with you and your men to-night?”
“We had a big fight, sir; but it waren’t to-night.”
“But it’s quite dark still, and I suppose it’s my head being giddy that makes me feel that we’re going up and down.”
“Oh no, it aren’t, zir,” said the man, laughing; “we’re going up and down bad enough. Not zo bad as we have been.”
“And round and round?”
“No; not going round, master.”
“But where are we?” said Nic eagerly.
“Ah, that puzzles you, do it, zir? Well, it puzzled me at first, till I asked; and then the doctor zaid we was in the cockpit, but I haven’t heard any battle-cocks crowing, and you can’t zee now, it’s zo dark. Black enough, though, for a pit.”
“Cockpit—cockpit!” said Nic. “Why, that’s on board ship.”
“To be zure.”
“But we are not on board ship?”
“Aren’t we?” said the man.
“I—I don’t understand,” cried Nic after a pause. “My head is all confused and strange. Tell me what it all means.”
Pete Burge was silent.
“Poor lad!” he said to himself; “how’s he going to take it when he knows all?”
“You do not speak,” said Nic excitedly. “Ah! I am beginning to think clearly now. You came with the men after the salmon?”
“Ay, worse luck. I didn’t want to, but I had to go.”
“Come,” said Nic sharply. “To-night, wasn’t it?”
“Nay. It’s ’bout three weeks ago, master.”
This announcement, though almost a repetition, seemed to stun Nic for the time; but he began again:
“We had a desperate fight, didn’t we?”
“Worst I was ever in.”
“And—yes, I remember; we were struggling in the pool when the sailors came.”
“That’s it, master; you’ve got it now.”
“But your side won, then, and I’m a prisoner?”
“Nay; your side won, master.”
“How can that be?” cried Nic.
“’Cause it is. They was too many for uz. They come down like thunder on uz, and ’fore we knowed where we was we was tied up in twos and being marched away.”
“Our side won?” said Nic, in his confusion.
“That’s right, master. You zee, they told Humpy Dee and the rest to give in, and they wouldn’t; so the zailor officer wouldn’t stand no nonsense. His men begun with sticks; but, as our zide made a big fight of it, they whips out their cutlashes and used them. I got one chop, and you nearly had it, and when two or three more had had a taste of the sharp edge they begun to give in; and, as I telled you, next thing we was tied two and two and marched down to the river, pitched into the bottoms of two boats, and rowed aboard a ship as zet zail at once; and next night we was pitched down into the boats again and hoisted aboard this ship, as was lying off Plymouth waiting to start.”
“Waiting to sail?”
“That’s right, master! And I s’pose she went off at once, but I was too bad to know anything about it. When I could begin to understand I was lying here in this hammock, and the doctor telled me.”
“One moment. Where are the others?”
“All aboard, sir—that is, twenty-two with uz.”
“Some of our men too?”
“Nay, zir; on’y our gang.”
“But I don’t understand, quite,” said Nic pitifully. “I want to know why they have brought me. Tell me, Pete Burge—my head is getting confused again—tell me why I am here.”
“Mistake, I s’pose, sir. Thought, zeeing you all rough-looking and covered with blood, as you was one of us.”
Nic lay with his head turned in the speaker’s direction, battling with the horrible despairing thoughts which came like a flood over his disordered brain; but they were too much for him. He tried to speak; but the dark waters of the pool were there again, and the next minute he felt as if he had been drawn by the current beneath the fall, and all was mental darkness and the old confusion once more.