CHAPTER VI.
THE SKELETON CREW AT DARLINGTON HALL—THE CONFLICT BETWEEN THE SERVANTS—DEFEAT OF THE SKELETON CREW BY WILDFIRE NED.
THE SKELETON CREW AT DARLINGTON HALL—THE CONFLICT BETWEEN THE SERVANTS—DEFEAT OF THE SKELETON CREW BY WILDFIRE NED.
Every one knew what a brave, bold, adventurous boy Wildfire Ned was, and directly he said “follow me,” each one regained his courage, and prepared to follow him.
They were all unarmed save Ned; but Roger, very cunning, stole a short poker from the fire-grate without being perceived, and stuffed it under his coat.
“I don’t so much fear now,” he thought. “I’ve got the poker, and if any of ’em come near me I’ll try and smash their ugly skulls in quick time; that is, if they will let me.”
Bold as a lion, and with an eye like a night hawk, young Wildfire Ned led the way, followed by the male servants.
They searched in every place that could be imagined, but neither ghosts nor skeletons could be found.
The rest of the servants were summoned and closely questioned by Wildfire Ned.
No such thing as ghost or skeleton had been seen in other parts of the old Hall, and the bare mention of the armed man in armour, who rushed out upon them, caused great merriment among the majority of the servants, who laughed outright, and called Roger and Tim “two old women.”
So there was every prospect of a quarrel among the servants on this great question.
Roger was very indignant, and when he pulled out the short poker from under his clothes, he flourished it about in great wrath, threatening tomassacre the coachman, butler, and every one, indeed, who did not believe him.
Order, however, was soon restored among them, and when the supper bell rang all repaired in great haste to the servants’ hall to hear the various odds and ends of the footman’s strange adventure.
They were all seated round the table, playing sad havoc with rounds of beef and good old ale, when all at once the lamps went out!
Roger would have fled on the instant, but he was afraid of being afterwards branded as a coward, and, therefore, remained in his seat, but felt very uneasy.
The French cook, at the head of the table, left his chair to go for other lamps.
At the moment that lights reappeared the whole assembly were struck dumb at what they then saw.
Behind the chair of each there stood one of the Skeleton Crew!
They would have shouted out loudly, but one of the Skeletons, who appeared to be chief of the party, said, sternly, and in a sepulchral tone, to a gigantic Skeleton,
“The first one that stirs—the first one that speaks above his breath, despatch him!”
Roger groaned inwardly, and felt more dead than alive.
Tim wriggled on his chair like a half-skinned eel.
The chief cook’s eyes were wildly dancing, and his long working cap rose up to a prodigious height, while, with open mouth, he stood shivering and shaking.
The others were in a state of collapse, and almost slipped off their seats, while they looked about in trembling fear.
The chief of the Skeleton Crew made a sign to some of his grim attendants to listen to all he had to say.
Turning to the chief cook, butler, and pantryman he said, in a sharp, hissing tone,
“Wine—the best—quick!”
Roger and Tim rose from their seats like a shot, but were each slapped on the head by a hard bony hand, which made their jaws rattle again.
Three grim skeleton guards followed the cook, butler, and pantryman, to see that their captain’s orders were carefully obeyed.
The wine was soon produced.
“Where are the silver goblets?” the chief asked, sternly.
These were soon found.
Each skeleton filled his goblet to the brim, and raised it aloft.
“Here’s to the Skeleton Crew of the Phantom Ship!” he said; “confusion to our enemies.”
In a moment the wine was quaffed.
The terrified servants did not know what was coming next, and looked on gasping like so many stranded fish.
“Remove the table,” said the chief; “let us have plenty of room, we have much business to do.”
“They are going to murder every mother’s son of us,” groaned Roger.
Tim began to think seriously of saying some short prayer.
But they had to swallow their own feelings and fears, nor did any of them dare speak, for behind each stood a skeleton, dagger in hand.
The table was removed to one corner of the inner servants’ hall.
The domestics were now sitting in a circle, face to face.
“The rope,” said the Skeleton Chief, hoarsely.
In an instant each of his crew produced a long stout rope, about two inches round, and flourished it before the eyes of their captain with a savage grin.
“I thought so,” groaned Roger. “Oh, dear! oh, dear!”
“All U.P. now,” Tim groaned.
“They wouldn’t believe me,” said the footman.
“Good-bye everybody,” said Tim.
Roger and Tim had another sound thwack on the jaws from their skeleton guardians, which shook every tooth in their heads.
“Sling your ropes,” said the grim Skeleton Chief, quaffing more wine.
In a moment each threw one end of his rope up in the air over the numerous beams and rafters of the servants’ hall.
“Make each his noose; mind they fit their necks nicely.”
“Oh, the cold-blooded rascals!”
“The merciless villains!”
“Mercy!”
“Have pity on us,” gasped the servants, as the Skeletons were making the noose in each rope.
“If they speak again despatch them with your daggers,” said the chief.
“Hanging is better than that,” sighed Roger, “so I’ll keep quiet. I hope my turn will come last, though,” he piously prayed.
“Give the rascals five minutes to say their prayers,” said the chief, with a gruff laugh.
“It won’t do them any good, great chief,” said one of the Skeletons; “they are sure to go to the devil.”
“Yes, oh, yes,” gasped Roger, “five minutes—say ten, only make it ten, or a quarter of an hour, and it will do us a world of—h-o-o! ha! ho-oh!”
A knife glittered before the footman’s eyes ere he had finished his sentence, and he sank upon his knees very humbly and meekly.
If any lot of poor wretches ever prayed fervently they did so on this occasion.
Roger, who seldom had said a prayer in all his life before, fired away very rapidly.
Each one was endeavouring to pray more than the other, and the most wicked among them were loudest.
“Be quick,” said the chief, sternly, “be quick with your praying; the hanging must commence at once. We will begin with the men.”
Many of the servants called down more hearty curses on the Skeleton Band than they did blessings on their own heads during their prayers; but it was useless to offer resistance, for each was in the power of a grim, gaunt enemy.
“Rise!” said the Skeleton Chief.
All the servants did so, except Roger.
“Rise,” said the Skeleton. “Don’t you know we are in a hurry?”
“I haven’t finished my prayers yet,” piously gasped the suddenly converted footman.
“How long does it take you?” asked one of the Skeletons, chuckling.
“All night sometimes,” said Roger, with a sigh.
“Oh, then, you are pious?”
“Yes, I always was.”
“Then as you are so much, the better prepared than the rest, we’ll hang you first.”
Roger groaned and rose up like a shot.
“You have heard of the Skeleton Crew, I know,” said the chief aloud, “and that they neither fear man nor devil?”
“We have,” said several; “quite true.”
“I wish the devil hadhim, though,” groaned poor Tim.
“And,” continued he, “you have heard that the chief is cruel, and has no mercy to his enemies.”
“I wish I only had the luck to be one of his best friends at this particular moment,” sighed Roger, trembling.
“But you see,” said the chief, “I amnotcruel, or I would have hanged you all without giving a moment’s warning.”
“Cursed perlite!” said Tim, under his breath.
“And, to show you that I am not as bad as people say I am, I’ll give you all a chance as to who dies first, provided——”
“What?” gasped several, eagerly.
“You will answer me one question.”
“What is it, oh, most mighty and merciful skeleton?” sighed Roger. “What is it?”
“Who considers himself to be the greatest rogue among you all?” asked the chief. “Be careful how you answer.”
A long, solemn and awful pause followed this ominous and all-important question.
The grim chief need not have warned them to be careful.
They wereverycareful indeed, and took a long, long time to consider.
“It won’t do formeto answer,” thought the trembling servants, “for they will be sure to commence hanging the biggest rogues first.”
“So there is no rogue at all among you, I find, eh? Ha! ha! Well, then, who thinks himself the most pious among you? Tell me that.”
Roger was about to reply, but the words stuck fast in his throat, as he thought,
“IfIanswer, they will do for me first as the best prepared to die; no, no, he don’t entrapmewith his puzzling questions.”
So thought the rest.
“No goodness among ye all, then, eh?” said the chief. “Why, a moment ago ye were all praying like so many saints. Come, answer me this, the third time, then I’ll give some of you another chance. Who considers himself to be brave among you, and don’t fear death? Answer me!”
No one did so, however.
“How artful this bloodthirsty monster is!” each thought; “for those who don’t fear death are sure to be hung first!”
“Well, no one answers, I find,” said the chief, laughing. “I’ll give you a last chance, poor devils; mark me, the only one you’ll have. Who is the greatest coward among you, and fears most to die?”
“I do.”
“I am.”
“That’s me.”
“Oh, spare us!”
Such were the unanimous answers of all, and in one breath.
“Ha! ha! you have answered at last, eh? Well, then, since there are no good nor brave men, but plenty of cowards, we’ll hang you altogether, for none of you deserve to live.”
Groans were now heard on all sides, and many repented not having answered before.
“If there had been only a few brave men among you I would have spared——”
“I’m brave! I’m brave!”
“I’ll do any mortal thing.”
“A lion’s courage is nothing to mine!”
“Only just try me—a tiger is nothing compared to me!”
“I’d face the devil,Iwould!”
Thus gasped out many when they found that brave men only were to be spared.
“Oh, that’s it, eh?” said the Skeleton Chief. “I now find that all of you are brave.”
“I’m the bravest,” said Roger, very meekly; “on my word, I am!”
“You are, eh?”
“No, he isn’t,” said the coachman; “Iam.”
“Oh, you are; then this footman must be a liar.”
“So he is,” said the coachman, “an awful liar; the biggest as ever lived!”
“Then we will begin with you two first, and give you a trial,” said the chief. “How do you best like to fight, with swords, or what? Daggers are the quickest to do the work with!”
“I’d prefer fists,” said the burly coachman.
“And what doyouprefer my brave fellow?” asked the chief of Roger.
Roger much preferred to escape out of the mess altogether, but it could not be.
“Strip,” said the chief, “you’ve got a fair chance to settle; the one who gives in first shall be hung, and the conqueror shall have the choice of poison or a bullet if he refuses to join my crew. We only have well-tried men alive or dead on board the Phantom Ship.”
Neither Roger nor the coachman saw any very great choice in the terms offered, but ere many minutes they were pounding each other’s ribs in gallant style till the sounds of their own blows reached through the immense hall.
Both combatants fought for ten minutes fiercely and fast, and went at it like two blacksmiths.
At last, however, Roger began to blow like a grampus, and with a well-directed smack on the nose the burly coachman knocked him down.
“I give in,” gasped Roger.
“Bring the rope,” said the chief, calmly.
“No, I don’t; stop a bit,” said the footman. “D—n it! I’ll have a few more rounds; anything’s better than being scragged like a cat.”
At it they went again hammer and tongs, pounding each other, and puffing at a great rate.
But while this was going on several other “brave” individuals were engaged, with swords, proving their valour, one against the other.
The doors were all locked, the windows were closed, and the servants’ hall being so far away from the knight’s apartments the noise was not heard.
Curses, not loud but deep, were heard on every side, and the Skeleton Crew looked on with delight, as they saw the blood flowing an all sides, while their chief sat on a high seat, quaffing wine,and delighted with the bloodthirsty, fiendish work going on around him.
It was a terrible feast of blood!
The Skeleton Band hideously grinned and chuckled at the sight of blood around them.
Shouts of pain and death groans were like music in their demon ears; the writhings of several victims, as they hung from the beams above, thrilled them with joy, as, with bony hands, they pointed to them twisting and dangling in the air.
This horrible carnival had lasted long.
The best looking of the females were then carried off by several of the Skeleton Band to some rendezvous near by, with limbs bound and their mouths gagged; but those left behind were hung to the rafters quickly, and without mercy.
This was an annual gory banquet, which the chief of the Skeleton Crew kept up to celebrate his career as the famous Scourge of the Sea!
He and most of his crew had come with the firm resolve to massacre every one in Darlington Hall.
This was but the commencement of their horrible sport.
Well might the Skeleton Crew and their charmed Phantom Ship have long been the terror and fright of all the coasts and seas around.
Many a family had been slaughtered in cold blood on shore, and many a good ship’s company mangled and their vessels plundered and sunk by these aptly termed Demons of the Deep.
But they had not come to Darlington Hall solely to satisfy their thirst for blood.
It was the villain and murderer, Redgill, they assisted.
He hated Wildfire Ned with bitter animosity because he could not supplant the brave youth in the affections of young Alice, the wealthy daughter of Countess Bluefield, sister to Sir Richard, whose estates were hard by.
But hitherto Redgill had been successful in his knavery.
Alice had suddenly disappeared.
She had been kidnapped from her home.
And while from home her parents had been slaughtered and the mansion sacked by the Skeleton Crew.
It was now the aim of these fiends to murder all in Darlington Hall, and for Redgill to forge a will in his own favour, and to claim the estate.
But the cleverest villains are caught in traps of their own making, as will be seen in succeeding chapters of this story.
Suffice it to say that on this occasion the Skeleton Crew were carrying out their plans to murder all the servants first and the owners afterwards.
For an hour or more did these demons revel in this horrid spectacle of cruelty and blood.
Those who did not kill each other were ruthlessly murdered by the Skeleton Crew, so that the servants’ hall presented a sickly and revolting sight, with the dead and dying lying around in all directions.
While the barbarous chief and his demon band were rejoicing at this human slaughter they drank deep of wine, and were roused up to a fiery pitch with the bloody work around them.
“Hurrah for the Skeleton Crew! the Scourge of the Seas!” said the chief, tossing off more wine. “In another hour old Sir Richard, and his braggart lad, Wildfire Ned, as he is called, will be no more. The old hag at the gibbet says the boy has a charmed life, but we shall quickly see. Ha! ha! there is no charm against cold steel, my lads!”
While thus he drank and laughed aloud in mocking tones he suddenly rose to his feet in alarm.
He drew his ponderous sword, and with fiery eyes listened!
A loud noise was now heard without.
The heavy doors were forced open with a crash!
With a loud and ringing cheer, there dashed in upon them fifty bold British tars, pistol and sword in hand, led on by Lieutenant Garnet and Wildfire Ned!
Death-wing (for such the Skeleton Chief was called), with a sudden bound, leaped from his high seat, sword in hand.
“Treachery!” he cried, and dashed upon Wildfire Ned, with bitter curses on his lips.
The conflict on all sides was dreadful.
Lieut. Garnet and his men did all that men could do, and performed prodigies of valour.
But their weapons did not seem to make any impression upon the Skeleton Crew.
Guns and pistols were fired at them, but all in vain.
The clash of swords and the gleam of daggers was heard and seen on every hand.
More than one of the gallant sailors was struck down by their ghostly foes.
“Death to them all, and spare not!” shouted Death-wing, the Skeleton Chief, with a loud laugh of triumph.
His ponderous sword swept through the air like a lightning flash.
On all sides he cut with unerring aim; but though he assailed Wildfire Ned with the fury of a demon, he could not slay him.
In rage and disappointment he growled, “This brat must have a charmed life; on to him, men, on to him, cut him limb from limb!”
With a shout of defiance Wildfire Ned met the onslaught of more of the Skeleton Crew.
But he handled his sword with such quickness and precision that he gallantly beat them back.
The tide of battle ebbed and flowed.
Success for a moment attended the Skeleton Crew, and they drove the sailors to the wall.
In an instant, however, and as if by magic, Wildfire Ned dashed again to the front.
“They are beaten!” he cried; “they give ground! Down with the demons! scatter their ghastly bones! Follow me!”
It was quite true.
The Skeleton Band did give way.
They had never met with such a fierce resistance before in all their lives.
They retreated in dumb terror before Wildfire Ned.
That brave youth rushed here, there and everywhere among his bloodthirsty foes, as if he courted death itself.
But no harm came to him.
His life was charmed, but he knew it not.
As if he had the strength of a young lion he fought his way to where Death-wing was, hand to hand with Garnet.
The lieutenant was struck to the ground, and in a moment would have been despatched.
Ned rushed to the rescue.
He stood over the body of the fallen sailor.
He confronted Death-wing face to face.
The Skeleton Chief retreated a step or two in fear from Wildfire Ned.
“I have tried to avoid you, but cannot,” he gasped; “wherever I go you are in my way. Retire, boy, or I’ll cleave ye in twain.”
“From you! Never!” said Ned, “never, while I have health left in my body or strength to wield a sword!”
With these words he rushed at the grim chief, and again their weapons clashed in deadly conflict.
Sparks flew from their flashing blades.
Ned was getting weaker and weaker.
His legs trembled violently.
He made a last blow at his fierce antagonist and fell prostrate over Garnet.
Death-wing, with a laugh of triumph, raised his sword high in the air on the point of cutting Ned in two, when, with a wild shout, he rushed from the spot!
His sword was knocked from his firm grip!
He and his band looked with terror at the sight which then appeared.
A man in armour, glittering from head to foot in polished steel, rose out of the stone flooring as if by magic.
With shield and sword he was ready for the fray!
Sir Richard and the sailors were struck dumb at the strange apparition, and fell back in awe.
Death-wing and his Skeleton Crew hastened from the spot like shadows.
Before Sir Richard and his friends could recover from their astonishment the spectre of the armed knight in dazzling armour had vanished.
They were now alone.
With wondering eyes they looked at one another in mute astonishment.
“Is this all a dream?” gasped Sir Richard, breathing with great difficulty.
No one replied.
At that instant, however, all could hear the heavy tread of a mailed warrior as he clanked across the stone floor.
They looked about in surprise, for now all was darkness.
Their torches had been lost and extinguished in the heat and fury of battle.
Again they heard the heavy clanking footsteps, and the jingle of spurs cross the stone floor, but could see nothing.
They turned towards the door, through which they had found their way.
There stood the spectre knight glittering in steel, and with vizor down.
A long blue plume waved from his helmet.
His shield was of dazzling brightness.
Over his armour he wore a white tunic with a large red cross on his breast.
He raised his gauntlet-covered hand on high, and pointed to the adjacent stone corridor, as he said,
“Cut the victims down! Succour the wounded! Bury the dead!”
And vanished!
But long after these solemn words were uttered, and before any one could recover from surprise, they heard the heavy, distant footfalls of the Spectre Knight.
Darlington Hall was haunted!
Cold perspiration oozed from their brows.
They trembled with awe, as, turning to the window, they saw a strange-like Will-o’-the-Wisp light dancing in the distant gloom.
Another moment, and the casement was dashed open.
Then a sound as of the clanking of chains and bones was heard, and a hollow voice saying,
“Behold, I amthe Red Man of the Gibbet!”
The Will-o’-the-Wisp light still danced round about, and in the centre stood the skeleton of the Red Man.
“What art thou?” said Sir Richard, fear, like an electric shot, passing through his frame.
The figure remained silent.
“Speak,” said Wildfire Ned, “or my sword shall find out if you are man or devil!”
Saying so, Ned advanced towards the horrid shape at the casement.
“Back!” said the Skeleton form, stretching out his finger at Ned. “Your time has not yet come; but know, boy, I am your fate. Yes. Ha! ha! your fate!”
Ned, for a moment, felt slightly awed at the strange words spoken by the mysterious figure, who, with the light still playing about his head, stood regarding all with a terrible look.
“You lie!” replied Ned. “My fate is not in your hands, and I defy you. The Skeleton Crew shall find I have not gained my name of Wildfire Ned without being able to keep it.”
“The Red Man,” said the voice, “in the name of the Skeleton Crew, accept your challenge, and I now throw down my gage in token of defiance.”
So saying, the figure threw down a hard substance on the floor.
Wildfire Ned picked it up.
It was a glove, and inside aSKELETON HAND!
“Ha! ha! now follow me if you dare!” shouted the Red Man, clanking his chains.
“I do dare, and will,” said Ned, breaking from his uncle’s hold, and dashing through the window after the Skeleton.
“Follow, follow quickly!” cried Sir Richard.
At the same moment they all fell back in fear as a shriek of mortal agony was borne along the wind and resounded throughout the old building.
“Oh, God!” cried the old man, “I fear the brave boy is slain.”
NOTICE TO OUR READERS.
Remember!—a most valuable present is in preparation, and will be presented to all our regular Subscribers with an early Number. Full particulars will be announced in Number 6.
Remember!—a most valuable present is in preparation, and will be presented to all our regular Subscribers with an early Number. Full particulars will be announced in Number 6.
“THE MIDNIGHT DANCE OF THE SKELETON CREW.”
“THE MIDNIGHT DANCE OF THE SKELETON CREW.”
“THE MIDNIGHT DANCE OF THE SKELETON CREW.”
Sword in hand Wildfire Ned dashed after the dreadful apparition, and well nigh overtook him as he ran along with wild fantastic leaps towards a densely-wooded copse.
It was at this moment, when, finding himself pursued, that the Red Man of the Gibbet gave that wild cry which so much alarmed Sir Richard Warbeck and his servants.
It was a terrible shriek, truly; more like that of a fiend than anything else.
What now followed was more horrible still, and caused Wildfire Ned to pause from sheer astonishment.
As the shriek came from the skeleton there suddenly sprang forward more than a dozen forms, and dashed in between the Red Man of the Gibbet and his pursuer.
With wild shrieks and yells the Skeleton Crew formed a circle round the Red Man, and in a second seemed to vanish into air!
Astounded at what he had seen, Wildfire Ned stood gazing like one just recovering from a trance, and observed not the approach of Sir Richard and his friends, who now rushed upon the scene, fearful for Ned’s fate.
“Return, lad, return!” said Sir Richard, with a tremulous voice. “This night has been one of horrors; I fear for your safety. Whether they bemen or devils, it matters not; but of this rest assured, they are bent on your destruction.”
A grim smile played upon Ned’s features as he was reluctantly led back to the hall by Sir Richard and a large troop of friends.
When left alone to his own thoughts, and in the silence of his chamber, Wildfire Ned began to ponder on all that he had seen and heard.
“This is a terrible state of things; but I will not sleep this night until I learn more of this strange horrible mystery, if it costs me my life.”
When all was silent in the Hall, Ned buckled on his sword, and slowly left his chamber.
He traversed the lonely galleries of the Hall like a spirit, with noiseless step.
He quietly went towards the stables to saddle his favourite horse.
As he approached the stable door he was confronted by Tim, who looked more dead than alive.
“I could not sleep, master,” said the groom, “the horrid sights as I have seen this ere night is enough to turn one grey.”
“Nonsense,” said Ned, with a light laugh, “nonsense, lad, you see it hasn’t turnedmegrey.”
“No, sir, truly; but then you ain’t made like common folks; they say Wildfire Ned is all cast iron.”
“Nonsense, Tim; it’s all a delusion to think that this Red Man of the Gibbet could leave his chains and go prowling about when he likes.”
“No it ain’t, sir, all respect to you, sir. I’ve heard people say that at some seasons of the year he does leave his chains. If he could talk to me, as I rode home, he can do anything; that’smyhumble opinion.”
“It can’t be true,” said Ned. “And, to prove it, I’ll wager a hundred gold pieces that if we ride over to the Lonely Heath this very night we shall find the gibbet tenanted as it always is.”
“Ride over to the gibbet, master?” said Tim, in horror. “Surely, you can’t think of doing anything so rash, and to-night, too, when we know that all the country around is alive with that demon gang called the Skeleton Crew?”
“Yes; but I do though, Tim. I shall mount my brave mare, Starlight, and go at once.”
“Oh! master, pray don’t,” pleaded Tim; “I’m sure that some harm will befal you.”
“And I’m equally sure none will. Prepare Starlight at once. Saddle the brown cob also.”
“The brown cob, sir? You surely don’t wanttwohorses?”
“Yes I do, Tim.”
“What, the brown cob for the Red Man of the Gibbet,” said Tim, aghast. “You surely ain’t going to take a moonlight ride with such a horrible devil as he is.”
“True, Tim, I am not,” said Ned, laughing; “the brown cob is for yourself.”
“For me?” said Tim, rolling his eyes.
“Yes, you. Come, be quick. Let us start off at once.”
With many groans, Tim prepared the horses, and ere many minutes had elapsed, both master and servant were on their way to the heath.
Tim sadly tried to lag behind, but Wildfire Ned would not allow him to do so.
“Here, Tim,” said Ned, producing a brandy-flask; “take a good suck at this; it will drive all the blue-devils out of you. Have courage, lad, no harm can possibly befal you.”
Tim liked the brandy, but did not much relish his young master’s stubborn resolution.
Nevertheless he had not got far upon the journey when his spirits began to rise rapidly, and his head became light and giddy.
He pulled out his sword in a very valorous manner, and made vicious cuts and slashes at the trees as he passed them, like a man valiantly fighting imaginary foes.
Ned perceived the effects the brandy had upon his servant, and gave him some more.
This had the desired effect of fortifying Master Tim with false courage.
Ere long he began to curse and swear at the Skeleton Crew and the Red Man of the Gibbet, in very loud tones.
After some time they approached the edge of the heath.
As they did so, the gibbet gradually came into view.
Tim’s courage now began to ooze out of his toes, and he rode very close to his brave young master, but somewhat behind him.
“There it is, Tim,” said Ned, pointing to the gibbet in the distance. “Can’t you hear the creaking sound of its rusty iron as it sways to and fro?”
“Y-e-e-s,” answered Tim, and his teeth began to chatter. “Y-e-e-s, young master, I do; but if you haven’t any objection, I’ll stay where I am until you return.”
“But Ihaveobjections, Tim, and very grave ones. Haven’t you promised to go to sea with me, and brave all the dangers and perils of the ocean?”
“True, sir but I didn’t bargain to go and confront living devils though,” groaned Tim.
“Very well, then, it is in order to make you accustomed to strange sights and strengthen your nerves, that I brought you with me to-night.”
“Very kind of you, sir,” said Tim; “very indeed; but I thinks as how I’ve seen enough of strange sights to-night to strengthen my nerves for ever, if it’s all the same to you, sir.”
It was all to no purpose, Ned would not allow Tim to remain behind on any consideration, but smiled, as he cast a sidelong glance at his servant’s long, pale face.
They had now approached within a few yards of the gibbet, and stopped to gaze at it.
“I told you how it was,” said Ned, laughing. “It must have been all a trick, or delusion. Why here is the Red Man safe and sound in his iron gibbet; he couldn’t be in two places at once.”
For some time the two horsemen remained motionless, intently gazing at the horrid gibbet, as it creaked and swayed in the moonlight.
The skeleton’s bones were of unearthly whiteness and stood erect in their iron cage.
The winds sighed mournfully through the trees.
A feeling of awe took possession of the horsemen as they stood and gazed at the ghastly object.
Their steeds even trembled with excitement, and snorted and shied at the gallows and the shadow of its skeleton tenant.
“What are you trembling about?” said Ned. “Be more of a man, Tim;Idon’t see anything very strange.”
“No, sir; butIdo. Look! look! see the red eyes are rolling about. I told you it were alive. See! see! Oh, horrors!” said Tim, shivering.
He would have backed his horse away, but Ned seized Tim’s rein with his right hand firmly.
True enough, however, the skeleton in the gibbetdidmove.
Its eyes, which before were invisible in their deep-sunk sockets, now turned a deep, dark, fiery red colour, and rolled about most alarmingly.
Ned’s horse reared and danced about, and he satlooking on in mute astonishment, but with bold, firm-set features.
“It is alive! it is alive, master! Let us get away! it is—itmustbe the devil himself!”
“Hold thy peace,” said Ned, in a petulant whisper.
And, then aloud, he addressed the ghastly, hideous form.
“Be ye devil or mortal, speak!” said Ned, fiercely. “Who and what art thou?”
The Red Man raised his skeleton arm, and suddenly thrust it through the grating of his prison-house, as he pointed his long, lean fingers, and said,
“Edward Warbeck, I am thine enemy! Beware!”[1]
“Mine enemy?” said Ned, with a grim smile.
“Aye, the same you saw this very night. At certain times and seasons I walk the earth; beware, I say, of the Red Man of the Gibbet and the Skeleton Crew. I am thy fate! When we meet again thou wilt tremble at my presence. Until we meet again, adieu!”
The long arm descended again by his grim, bony sides.
His red eyes lost their fiery lustre.
His marrowless bones shook in their iron cage.
All was still, quiet and solitary as the grave.
Nought was heard—nothing was seen but a stray vulture as it circled in the air near by and pounced on the gibbet.
Wildfire Ned was astonished, but not dismayed.
He laughed aloud in wild derision, as he said,
“Tremble at thy presence? Never!”
The Red Man echoed the laugh in sepulchral tones.
Ned turned his head to look around.
Tim had left him, and was then madly galloping away.
Ned was alone at that awful spot!