CHAPTER XIII.
CAPTAIN JACK AND REDGILL MISCALCULATE THEIR FORCES—THE RECOGNITION—THE RESCUE—BOB BERTRAM’S ESCAPE.
CAPTAIN JACK AND REDGILL MISCALCULATE THEIR FORCES—THE RECOGNITION—THE RESCUE—BOB BERTRAM’S ESCAPE.
Captain Jack and his half-dozen companions were so thoroughly disappointed and disgusted with their ill-success in and around Darlington, that they made up their minds to depart for London forthwith, and seek no other adventures.
Their disabled companion shared the horse of Faulkner, and as they journeyed slowly along to the nearest public-house, the whole party were loud in cursing their late bad luck.
“Who the devil could have been that youngster who assailed us so furiously?” said Captain Jack, with an angry oath. “I tried to wing him several times, but always missed.”
“Yes, hang him, but he took d—d good care he didn’t missme” old Bates growled; “he knocked the pistol out of my hand as clean as a whistle, and just at the moment, too, when I was going to pop at him.”
“As to handling a sword,” said Captain Jack, “he seems the very devil at that game.”
“I thought thatIcould do a little in that line,” said Faulkner, “but, lor’ bless yer, he gave me an awful dig in the left arm, and if it hadn’t been for a stroke of good luck I should have been killed, for he was just on the point of having a full cut at me, when I ducked my head, and—”
“Yes, and that stroke cut down a thick branch much tougher than your head or neck,” said Bates. “I saw it, so cut it, for I had enough on it.”
While thus speaking of their inglorious exploit, Jack’s party arrived at the roadside inn, where, it will be remembered, Wildfire Ned had left Bob Bertram and Tim.
Believing what the landlord had said to them, namely, that Ned Warbeck had only ridden back to the Hall for something he had forgotten, Bob and Tim waited patiently for his return.
When least they expected it, however, and greatly to the surprise of both, Captain Jack and his rough companions entered the inn, and, with their old style, swaggered about and talked and cursed very loudly.
Tim, by instinct, knew who they were, and trembled.
He slunk into the dark corner still farther, so as not to be perceived, but Bob Bertram remained cool and collected.
Captain Jack called for various refreshments, and, together with a companion or two, were very busy in binding up the cuts and wounds of those who were hurt.
“You seem to have fallen into rough hands, gentlemen,” said Bob, civilly.
“Well, and what if we have,” Bates growled; “is that anything to do wi’ you? Who are you?”
“Keep your temper, Bates,” said Captain Jack; “let’s have no more quarrelling to-night. The young man didn’t mean any harm.”
“Quite true, gentlemen, quite true; we are two of the civilest fellows as ever was,” Tim began.
“And who askedyouto speak?” Bates growled, in such a wicked manner as made Tim stop on the instant.
“Misfortune follows misfortune,” sighed Tim to himself; “it is out of the frying-pan into the fire. When will all these strange ups and downs cease?”
“The truth is, young man,” said Captain Jack to Bob Bertram, after he had bandaged his comrades’ wounds, “the truth is as you say, wehavefallen into rough hands to-night—very rough hands indeed. Did you ever hear of a person hereabouts called Bob Bertram?”
“Yes, I think I have,” said Bob, coolly. “What of that?”
“Well, it’s all through him that we’ve got all these cuts and wounds.”
“Indeed!”
“Yes,” said Captain Jack, inventing lies as he went on; “we are officers of the crown, and were sent to escort this Bob Bertram to London, but he escaped just in time. We got scent of where he was hiding, and overtook the carriage in which he was escaping. Like brave men and good officers, we attacked it, but just as we were on the point of securing the rascal, out pounces a score of villains upon us from a wood. After a desperate encounter we killed and wounded a great many, but were at last compelled to fly, for the whole village was at our heels.”
“Indeed!” said Bob, in wonder; “but are you sure that the person in the carriage reallywasBob Bertram?”
“Not a doubt of it!” said Captain Jack, pleased with his well-told string of lies.
During this conversation, and while Jack was dilating at great length upon the bravery of himself and comrades, a stranger entered the room and took a seat on the dark side of the fire-place.
Bob and Tim exchanged quick looks at one another on the stranger’s entrance.
It was not Wildfire Ned.
Who, then, could it be?
It was Phillip Redgill.
The place where he sat was shaded from the firelight so completely that he had a good view of each person’s countenance, but yet no one saw his own.
“You are mistaken, my friend,” said Redgill, at the conclusion of Captain Jack’s remarks, “you are mistaken; the murderer, Bob Bertram, was not in the carriage at all.”
“No!”
“Who dare dispute our word?”
“Who told you so?” said Bates, Faulkner, and Captain Jack in a breath, and in tones of annoyance.
“Idid!” said Redgill, rising, “the murderer was not near the spot.”
“Not near the place?”
“No! he was sitting quietly in the parlour of a roadside inn during the whole of the fight.”
“Prove it.”
“Do you want to make us all out liars, then?”
“Icanprove it!” said Redgill, all the time speaking in a forced voice, quite unnatural to him; “and if you put me to the test, I can tell you where the murderer is now at this present moment.”
“Ha!”
“Where?”
“There’s a good reward offered, tell us at once,” said Captain Jack and others.
“You have not to look far for him,” said Redgill, with a triumphant laugh.
Bob Bertram’s blood now ran cold.
“I am betrayed,” he thought, “and must fight my way out of this.”
“And who told you?” said Bates.
“A youth called Ned Warbeck. I met him on the road: he has been to this inn once to-night, has he not landlord?”
“I believe he has,” was the innkeeper’s answer.
“But where is this Bob Bertram, then?” said Captain Jack impatiently.
“There!” said Redgill, pointing to where Bob Bertram sat. “I know him, so does the landlord, and so does that thin-legged groom in the corner.”
But they held their peace.
“Scoundrel!” said Bob Bertram, rising instantly. “Scoundrel!” he said, and fired at the informer.
Redgill anticipated something of this sort, and dodged so cleverly that the shot missed its aim.
In a second, Bob Bertram was surrounded by Captain Jack’s party.
He fought most manfully to get loose from his assailants, but they were too numerous for him.
Besides that, his confinement and anxiety for the past few days had weakened him very much, so that he did not at the moment possess one-third of his ordinary strength.
Old Bates was the first who dared to assail Bob, but a well-directed blow, clean from the shoulder, knocked the red-nosed rascal off his legs.
Right manfully did Bob fight, but it was all to no purpose.
He was bound with cords; resistance was hopeless and useless.
He cast a look at Redgill—a glance that was filled with venom and scorn.
“Villain!” he said. “We have met before, bloodthirsty scoundrel! Do you remember the night of my father’s murder, red-handed knave? You shall not always triumph;myday will come.”
“What does the rogue say?” Redgill remarked, coolly.
“Oh, never mindhim, sir,” said Captain Jack, recognizing in Redgill the young man who had escaped from the carriage and given him the purse of gold, “never mind him,sir; he’s only raving. All your great criminals rave and rant when officers lay their hands upon ’em; it’s quite natural, just like pigs when they’re going to be killed—they always squeal most then. Lor, bless yer, sir, we’ve had lots of criminals in hand in our time, ain’t we, Bates?”
“I believe yer,” said that worthy.
Turning to Bob, who was bound now with cords he said, “What d’yer mean by calling this ’ere gentleman names for, eh? Why, we knows him well,” said Bates, in allusion to Redgill.
“If you do,” said Bob, “take care of him;heis the man who murdered my father, not me; his name is Bolton.”
“Quite mistaken,” said Captain Jack; “his name ain’t nothing of the sort—it is Mr. Phillip Redgill.”
“Quite true,” said Phillip, with a smile of contempt. “And, now that I have assisted you in recapturing this vile murderer, I will mount and journey to London.”
“Quite right.”
“Many thanks, my noble captain.”
“A pleasant journey.”
“Don’t forget our appointment,” said Redgill to Jack. “I suppose he is——”
“Dead as a herring,” whispered Captain Jack. “I shot the old ’un through the head, but we couldn’t do much with the young ’un, though, so had to hook it.”
“Young ’un?” said Redgill, in surprise. “What young ’un do you allude to?”
“Why, that young Wildfire devil as came galloping and pistolling and slashing among us single-handed.”
“Who could it have been?” said Redgill. “Was he nearmysize?”
“No, less than you; not near so strong; but, lor bless yer, he’s as active as a cat, and rode a splendid mare he called Starlight.”
“Starlight?” said Redgill. “There is but one mare of that name around Darlington, and that one belongs to——”
“Wildfire Ned,” said young Warbeck, entering at the moment.
Redgill turned pale as death, and averted his face.
Tim and Bob Bertram were overjoyed at this unlooked for arrival.
Captain Jack and his party were thunderstruck.
“The devil!”
“’Tis he!”
“The very one I spoke of.”
“Edward Warbeck, gentlemen, at your service,” said Wildfire Ned, bowing.
“Cut the brat in two!” said old Bates, with his eyes glaring in anger like two live coals. “Cut the brat in two.”
“Blow out his brains—the bastard!” said Phillip Redgill, feeling safe among so many friends. “Blow out the bastard’s brains!” he said, in a hissing tone.
“Down with him!”
“Spare him not!”
“H-o-l-d!” said Wildfire Ned, in a loud tone, and waving his hand in command. “H-o-l-d! I say! The first man that stirs shall fall by my sword.”
These words were said in such a clear, ringing tone, and with an air of such cool defiance that Captain Jack and his followers were astounded.
Without a word of apology, Wildfire Ned cut the rope that bound Bob Bertram, and then said to Captain Jack—
“You are the leader of this party?”
“I am,” was the gruff reply. “How dare you interfere with our prisoner, then? We are officers of justice.”
“Injustice, you should have said,” Ned coolly replied, laughing, “and if you are not all hung within a week you owe it tomyclemency.”
“Toyou?” said Bates, with a curling lip.
“Yes, to me, old man; nay, don’t growl so. I fear you not, you cannot bite any one. Think yourself very lucky that I do not punish your insolence on the spot.”
Ned’s manner was so firm, cool, and brave, that it seemed to act like a spell on all present, for no one moved from where they stood or sat, but looked on with surprise and curiosity at what then took place.
Walking up to Redgill, Ned said, calmly, but in tones which all could hear—
“We have met again.”
“We have,” was the hoarse response of the dark villain, as he curled his lip in demon-like scorn.
“You called me bastard,” said Wildfire Ned, in a tone of fiery anger, “this is my answer!”
So speaking, he slapped Redgill in the face, and then spat upon him.
“Hollo! what’s all this?”
“He’s struck our friend.”
“Knock the brat down,” said one and another.
“Keep your places,” said Ned, with a look of scorn; “the first man of you that dare interfere in this quarrel shall in less than a minute lie at my feet a bleeding corpse!”
Throwing off his cloak, he stood before Phillip Redgill, sword in hand.
“Come on!” said he, “I told you we should meet again; draw, I tell you, draw villain, or I will slay you where you stand, Phillip Redgill!”
“He shallnotfight!” said Captain Jack; “but, if youwillkick up a shindy, and insist upon blood-letting, why, then,Iwill accommodate you.”
“Yes, and I!”
“And I!”
“Wait, then,” said Ned. “Trust me, you shall all have your turn, but I will commence with this one first. Phillip Redgill, draw!”
He did so, but with an air of great reluctance.
Ned stood upon his guard.
On the instant, however, and before he was aware of any treachery, Redgill fired at him.
The ball grazed Ned’s cheek.
“Cowardly hound!” he cried, and rushed on his foe with the fury of a fiend.
In an instant, the whole place was in an uproar.
Bob Bertram, Tim, and the landlord were surrounded by Captain Jack’s followers, and a deadly encounter took place.
The clash of swords, the report of fire-arms, and the shouts and cries of all in the house, awoke wild echoes in the silent night.
To add to the confusion all the lights were overturned and extinguished.
At the first opportunity Master Tim crept under the table out of harm’s way.
But Bob, the publican, and Wildfire Ned, pushed their antagonists so fiercely that in less than ten minutes Phillip Redgill was carried out into the yard bleeding and pale.
Captain Jack and his men were thoroughly beaten, but they continued the fight outside the house, on the spacious green in front of the doorway.
Here in the moonlight was seen the flash of swords, and heard the deep guttural curses of the antagonists.
“We must get out of this at all cost,” said Captain Jack to Faulkner; “all our chaps are wounded; we must beat a retreat once. Get our horses, Faulkner.”
Captain Jack vaulted upon one animal, Faulkner did so upon another.
Just when about to start off, they were surprised to see a horseman approaching at a terrific gallop.
In his arms he held a lovely female, whose snow-white garments were streaming in the wind.
It was Colonel Blood with Ellen Harmer!
In about five minutes Captain Jack and Faulkner were seized with horror at what they then saw.
Colonel Blood’s carriage, with its skeleton coachman and footman, and with weird-wild skeleton forms inside, dashed past the inn door in pursuit, waving their bony arms and shrieking most hideously.
This strange, unearthly spectacle seemed to fill all with horror.
Even Wildfire Ned desisted from the combat and gazed steadfastly upon the grim cortége as it passed the inn.
Suddenly a piercing and uncommon cry was uttered by Phillip Redgill as he turned his eyes towards the vehicle.
The coach stopped.
In an instant the skeleton descended from the box.
Those inside alighted with great expedition, and, weapon in hand, advanced towards the inn door.
Wildfire Ned was astonished, but not dismayed.
He bit his lip, and his eyes flashed fire.
Without a word of warning the Skeleton rushed upon him.
Captain Jack and Faulkner spurred their horses away from the spot as speedily as possible.
They did not stay a single moment longer to witness what took place.
They only thought of their own safety, and galloped off as if they had suddenly confronted so many devils.
One of the Skeleton Crew secured Redgill as he lay bleeding under a tree in the garden, and conveyed him to the coach.
Tim did not much relish any fresh encounter whatever.
Inspired with curiosity, and a keen desire to lay hands upon anything which the coach contained, he went up to the door, and peeped in.
The suppliant cries of those inside affected Tim’s heart, and he loosed them from their bondage by cutting the cords with which they had been bound.
This he did, but only on condition of their promising to help his master, which the liberated coachman and footman swore most solemnly to do.
When they stepped out of the carriage, however, they breathed very hard for a moment or two, and, seeing the fight going on all around them, took to their heels like lamplighters, nor even turned their heads.
Up the road they ran, as nimbly as rabbits, until, breathless, and almost on the point of bursting a blood-vessel, they fell headlong into a marshy pool, and lay there without attempting to move.
Wildfire Ned, Bob Bertram, and the plucky innkeeper, however, had, up to this time, been busily engaged with their grim opponents.
The publican had closed with one of them, and, in fast embrace, were then wrestling on the ground.
Bob Bertram used his sword with both hands, and, much to his delight, cut off the arm of one and leg of another.
Judge of his astonishment and horror, however, when each of those grim worthies picked up his severed limb, and hobbled off towards the coach, perhaps there to reset them, for all he knew, since they never returned to the combat again.
Ned, however, with his back to a tree, contended with two at once.
With his good sword he hit right and left, first at one and then at another.
But it seemed as if to no purpose, for as often as they were cleaved to the earth, they rose again, as nimbly as if they were made of india-rubber and springs combined.
“There’s only one vulnerable part with these devils, I’m told,” said Ned to himself, “and that is to fairly pierce them between the eyes and nose.”
With well-directed thrusts Wildfire Ned attempted this feat repeatedly, but failed, and his efforts were rewarded by loud derisive laughter by his enemies.
At last he succeeded.
With a wild, ear-piercing shriek, a grim monster fell to the earth, and his marrowless bones crashed together with an unearthly sound.
“That’s one of them,” said Ned, in high glee, but, before he could utter another word, he saw approaching, right and left, a whole company of skeletons marching in great haste to the spot.
“We shall all be massacred,” said the innkeeper, in horror; “the whole band are out to-night.”
“Fall back, lads; fall back,” said Wildfire Ned; “get into the house again, and let us bar the doors.”
This was quickly done, and greatly to Master Tim’s annoyance, for he was now shut out.
With the nimbleness of a cat he climbed up the water pipe into a chamber window.
He could not get in very well, and hung outside for some moments, dangling just above the heads of the Skeleton Crew below.
Ned pulled him in, however, and warded off several vicious blows aimed at Tim, which, had they struck him, must have killed him on the spot.
“We are safe now for a time,” said the innkeeper, bravely; “but I fear they will burn us out. We shall be roasted alive.”
Tim heard this remark, and was seized with a wild frenzy.
He threw chairs and crockery out upon the heads of those below, who, now very numerous, were clamouring at and endeavouring to burst in the door.
“Set fire to the house,” said Death-wing, who had now arrived. “Set fire to the house at once; they will soon cry for quarter, but give them none; as they rush out, kill them on the spot. We’ll soon make them surrender.”
“Never,” said Wildfire Ned, at an open window. “Never!”
In a few moments, however, the house and stables were set fire to, and the Skeleton Crew, sure of consuming their foes, danced round and round in wild, unearthly joy.
“Oh! heaven protect us!” the innkeeper gasped. “We shall all be blown up.”
“What!” said Ned, never for a moment losing either coolness or courage.
“Blown up, Mr. Warbeck,” said the host. “I have a hundred pounds of powder in a cellar which is situated a few yards before the front door.”
“One hundred pounds of powder?” said Bob.
“Yes.”
“How came it here?”
“Lieutenant Garnet and a party of sailors found it on the beach not many weeks ago. It was destined for the Skeleton Crew, but Lieutenant Garnet placed it here, saying he would call and remove it soon.”
“That’s just the thing we want,” said Ned, in high glee.
In a few moments, Bob and Wildfire Ned descended into the cellar described, and, after putting a slow match to the barrel, firmly closed the cellar-door, and returned again to the room above.
Ned threw a rope out of window as if about to escape.
This was noticed by those below, who hailed Ned’s appearance at the window with derisive cheers as they brandished their weapons, and flung about their long white arms in a ghostly dance.
“The fire is doing its work,” said Death-wing, in high glee. “We’ll have revenge on the publican, he has always been an enemy of our crew, and a friend to Garnet. Look out, they will be burnt out like rats in less than five minutes. Stand by, every one of you, ready to receive them as they jump out of the window. Let them fall on the points of your sword.”
When least they expected it, however, the powder exploded!
The earth about ten yards in front of the main doorway suddenly upheaved.
An awful rush of fire succeeded.
Many of the skeletons were blown into the air.
This concussion was very great, and for a moment the house trembled as if it would crumble into dust.
It did not, however.
All in the house who had not laid themselves down on their faces were thrown off their legs.
The windows were smashed.
The doors flew open as if by magic.
“Now’s our time,” said Ned, and, followed by the innkeeper, Bob Bertram, and Tim, rushed out sword in hand.
By the light of the burning dwelling and stables the fight was continued, and now more desperately than ever.
Tim, in his hurry to rush out and get away, stumbled into the deep hole made by the explosion.
He had scarcely reached the bottom, however, when one of Death-wing’s band seized him, and almost squeezed him to death.
Tim was now bound to fight or die, and as he much preferred the former condition of the two, he kicked and bit and fought like a tiger, each one of them rolling over one another by turns, and almost burying themselves in the loose earth.
Wildfire Ned sought out Death-wing, but nowhere could that remorseless chief be found.
He called upon him to stand forth and engage in deadly combat, but there was no response to this bold challenge.
When least expected, however, and when in the fulness of his vigorous onslaught upon the grim gang, he, Wildfire Ned, was seized by some one from behind!
A thrill of horror ran through his whole frame.
Death-wing, with a loud shout of triumph, cried out,—
“Victory! victory! Ned Warbeck is our prisoner!”
“Liar!” Ned growled, and with a mighty effort released himself from Death-wing’s grasp.
They now stood face to face.
That moment to each was momentous in the extreme.
Each one was nerving himself up for the final struggle.
Loud shouts now burst out upon Ned’s delighted ears.
With an irresistible rush, cutlass in hand, Lieutenant Garnet, with a brave band of blue jackets, dashed upon the scene.
With a wild, joyous shout, such as British tars alone know how to give, Garnet’s men pressed their way into the thickest of the fight.
The combat now was a grand sight indeed.
The night had turned to inky darkness.
Not a star was visible.
In the foreground was the mixed assemblage of fierce combatants.
Blue jackets of the sailors mixed with the white, skeleton forms which danced hither and thither like ghosts in the darkness.
All the background was brilliantly lighted up by the blazing tavern, and conflagration of numerous stables.
Wildfire Ned and Bob Bertram each took command of a party of sailors, and attacked Death-wing’s gang in every direction.
Death-wing mounted his coal black charger, and endeavoured to arouse his followers to greater efforts and more desperate acts of daring.
Ned and Bob Bertram followed the example.
Once on the back of Starlight, Ned felt more at home.
Everywhere he sought to confront Death-wing.
All his efforts were in vain.
The skeleton chief seemed to be ubiquitous.
Wherever he was seen at one moment he disappeared on the next.
Beaten back at all points, Death-wing and his followers gave way.
They gradually retreated towards a dangerous morass, and thence into a dense wood, whither it was deemed inadvisable to follow them.
Indeed, it seemed impossible to follow them, for they disappeared like myths, or Will-o’-the-Wisps, in the marshy bog.
When Lieutenant Garnet and his men were collected, it was found that many of them had been very dangerously wounded by the gang.
It must be confessed that on this occasion Death-wing had used all his generalship and courage.
But nothing could withstand Wildfire Ned Garnet, Bob Bertram, and the innkeeper.
Of Tim it behoves us to speak a little.
He got very roughly handled by his grim opponent, in the deep pit, but that was all. He extricated himself out of the hole.
He then mounted a tree, and, there perched, had an excellent view of the battle by the light of burning buildings.
He would shout out occasionally, “That’s it, Master Ned!”—“Give it to ’em, Bob!”—“Smash the rascals, my brave sailor boys!”—“Hurrah for Lieutenant Garnet!”—“Bravo, Wildfire Ned!”
But Tim became so noisy during the combat that he attracted the attention of Death-wing.
“Bring that fool down,” said Death-wing to one of his men, as he rode past the spot. “Bring that noisy fool out of the tree, and pitch him into the burning tavern!”
“What a civil devil,” thought Master Tim, and clambered up the tree still higher.
Death-wing’s orders, however, were obeyed.
A skeleton, with a long dagger between his teeth, clambered up the tree.
LOOK OUT FOR THE
BOY SAILOR;
OR,
LIFE ON BOARD A MAN-OF-WAR.
A most interesting and powerfully-written Tale, to be completed in about 30 Numbers.
No. 2, with No. 1, and a LARGE ENGRAVING, GRATIS.
LOOK OUT FOR
SOMETHING NEW FOR THE BOYS!
A LARGE ENGRAVING
AND
VARIOUS PRIZES, GRATIS.
Full particulars in No. 6.
“THE BODILESS LEGS WALKED SLOWLY ACROSS THE PATH.”
“THE BODILESS LEGS WALKED SLOWLY ACROSS THE PATH.”
“THE BODILESS LEGS WALKED SLOWLY ACROSS THE PATH.”
With a thick bough, which Tim had torn from the tree, he took deliberate aim, and dealt his enemy a tremendous thwack on the skull, when half-way up the tree, and knocked him down again.
This trick Master Tim had played several times with great success; but ere long two skeletons essayed to climb up after him.
For a few moments they amused themselves with firing at Tim with their pistols.
This was very pleasant sport for them, but quite the contrary to Tim, who jumped about as nimbly as a squirrel, and after many attempts successfully hid himself in the upper part of the trunk!
“I’m safe now,” thought he; but to his horror he heard his grim pursuers climbing up and probing the rotten trunk with their swords every yard as they ascended.
One of their sword-blades grazed Tim’s shin, and he quickly fell from his perch right to the bottom of the trunk, and some three feet below the surface of the earth.
For be it remarked the tree was an immense old cypress, which in all cases have hollow trunks.
The two skeletons searched and searched in vain.
They cut, and hacked the soft bark, and, wherever they found a knot-hole, plunged their long sword-blades into it, in hopes of transfixing the unlucky, and timorous groom.
But with a long-drawn sigh, Tim thanked hisstars that he was now safe, and, as he turned his eyes upwards, he plainly saw the two skeletons looking down upon him.
But they did not perceive him.
They gave up the search, thinking that their intended victim had escaped by crawling out on to a large branch, and then dropping to the ground among the combatants on every side.
They left the tree; and Tim, all alone in his momentary glory, had serious misgivings as to how he should escape.
He couldnotget up again, for his own weight in his descent had forced him down, with a little squeezing, but it could not force him up again!
“I’m doomed!” groaned Tim, in his dismal incarceration; “and shall be stifled, or die of hunger here.”
His position, it must be confessed, was an unenviable one.
“I’m in a living tomb,” he groaned, and as the rats, mice, insects and other creeping things now began to nibble him in every part of the body, and with great industry, he shouted out with horror and positive pain.
Crouched up as he was, and sitting almost like a tailor upon his curled-up legs, he had no power to move.
Wherever he thrust forth his hand it came in contact with some slimy, creeping thing, which made the blood curdle in his veins.
To add to his misery, he now heard the voices of Wildfire Ned, Bob Bertram and Lieutenant Garnet shouting to their followers in tones of triumph.
Next followed a rousing cheer from the lusty sailors as they left the spot in pursuit of their grim and stubborn enemies.
Tim shouted again and again with his utmost power.
But his voice died away, and was not heard in the noise and confusion which reigned on every side.
“I’m lost! I’m lost!” he cried, and gave way to despair.
All was now quiet around the old cypress tree.
Save the crackling of the burning dwellings and the sharp cries of many who were wounded, poor Tim heard nothing.
He resigned himself meekly and humbly to die.
“If I had only acted bravely,” he thought, “this misfortune wouldn’t have happened to me. But how could I help it? Wildfire Ned is a perfect devil, and don’t care any more for a sword-cut than I would for a flea-bite. This all comes of being a coward,” he groaned. “Curse the Skeleton rascals! D—n this tree which offered me protection! If I could only get out of this stifling hole, I’d give——”
“What! what would you give?” asked a solemn voice near to him.
Tim began to shiver in every limb.
“Was that a voice I heard?” he sighed. “No, it cannot be; it must have been all im——”
“Reality!” interrupted the voice.
For a moment the frightened prisoner dared not move.
“’Tis the devil,” he muttered.
Before he could utter another word Tim felt the earth moving from under him.
With a groan he endeavoured to cling to the inside of the tree.
The effort was vain.
When least expected he felt himself gradually going.
At last he suddenly fell into a cave some twenty feet below!