CHAPTER XL.
THE COINERS’ CAVERN—SUBTERRANEAN ABODES—THE OATH—THE RELEASE—THE PROMISE.
“I don’t much like this, Master Ned,” exclaimed Tim, shivering, “where can we be going to?”
“Hold your tongue, you prating fool,” replied Ned, angrily, “your idle words will do more harm than good; do you hear me say anything?”
“All right, Master, but I ain’t Wildfire Ned, you know; I ain’t made of cast-iron.”
Tim would have added something else, but a violent jerking of the machine under his feet convinced him that they had reached the bottom.
Before he had time to recover from the shock, he was seized by two or three powerful men, who bound his arms behind him, and led him away.
They also blindfolded him, in spite of his groans for mercy, and, after dragging him along for about a hundred yards, they stopped, and, loosening the bandage from his eyes, thrust him under a vaulted arch.
He was evidently far under ground, and the soil on which he stood was of a whitish colour, similar to that in a lead mine.
The water was trickling down through the fissures of the rocks, and formed all around a stagnant pool.
But what struck Ned most forcibly was the singular appearance of his assassins, for as such he deemed them now to be.
They were all dressed in coarse baize coats, which reached to their knees, and were fastened in front by a huge clasp.
They wore leather breeches, covered by large top boots, which confined the greatest part of their legs.
Each of them had a couple of double-barrelled pistols stuck in his belt, and a rough beard flowed upon their breasts.
“I say, Nat!” cried one of the ruffians, “what shall we do with this black-looking scoundrel, the servant?”
“Why, leave him here, to be sure,” replied the tallest of the three, “and you shall guard him, it’syourturn to be on duty to-night, and you may as well take it here, as stand at the tower; and to keep you from the cold, here’s my cloak, which will keep out the shivers, I’ll warrant ye.”
This said he took the arm of his companion, and left Tim, with his guard, who began to pace up and down, without exchanging a single word with the prisoner.
But to return to Ned.
He shared no better fate than his servant, and before he had time to use his good sword, he was bound, and ordered to march forward.
He was led through the midst of five, and then into a sixth spacious apartment, dug in the earth, and lighted by a dim lamp, hanging in the centre.
He was requested by one of his conductors to sit on a bench.
Two of the band left the room, and the others sat near the entrance, and engaged in a whispering conversation.
Ned was then left to his own reflections, which were not of a tranquillising nature.
Nearly half an hour had elapsed when the two men mentioned above reappeared bearing lighted torches and an order from the captain to see the prisoner.
Young Ned Warbeck was now fully aware that he was in a cave of robbers, and he made up his mind for the worst, and marched boldly at the summons of one who seemed to be the leader of the band.
They proceeded, at a quick pace, through numerous vaulted arches, similar to which Ned had been confined in, and they were soon in the presence of the captain.
He was seated at a table with a bundle of papers in his left hand, and a sword in his right.
His dress was the same as that of his followers.
What distinguished him from the rest was a pair of long moustachios in addition to the beard, and a yellow band round his waist
His dark glaring eyes were fixed for a moment on the countenance of the young and handsome prisoner, who was leisurely surveying all around him.
“Unloose this young man,” said the captain, “and stand aside.”
Ned was immediately released from his bonds, and his guards took their places silently behind him.
The captain spent a few minutes in conference with some of his associates.
During this time young Ned had the leisure to perceive that he was mistaken in his conjectures respecting those whom he had taken for robbers; though not of a very different avocation, they could not literally be entitled to that appellation.
They were (as he plainly saw by the dye, which at first had escaped his enquiring eyes, and by the heaps of blanks all ready for impression), a set of men who defraud the revenue by circulating, to the detriment of the Mint, immense quantities of base coin—in fact, they were Coiners.
He knew not whether he had any right to be satisfied with the change; for, thought he, a robber will take your life rather than be detected, so would a coiner, rather than have his lawless proceedings come to light, have recourse to any means; but then, would they have forced him, as it were, to be an eye-witness of their crimes for the sole purpose of murdering him in cold blood?
These were his thoughts, which were diverted by an appeal from the captain—to answer his purposes.
“Who are you? What are you? and whence do you come?” asked the captain.
“My name is Warbeck. I am an officer in the king’s navy, and have come from Plymouth.”
“Well answered. Now, what brought you here?”
Ned Warbeck, in a few words, stated the circumstances above mentioned.
“Young man,” resumed the captain, “you stand charged with having fired at one of my men; of this I will keep little or no account, it was, as you might rightly observe, in self-defence. You have proved yourself bold and worthy of your profession. Many others have been driven from the landlord’s house by the same means.
“Though under very little fear of detection, as the entrance to our subterranean dwellings is known to no others but to ourselves, we have, nevertheless, thought it advisable to adopt some method of screening ourselves more effectually.
“We resolved to render that house uninhabitable.
“We bought it, but not being known in the neighbourhood, and never going out by night, and that only once a month to buy provisions, we deemed it useless, and therefore concocted the plan which you have witnessed, and which you must own requires as stout a heart as your own to withstand.
“The man whom you fired at, unaccustomed to such resistance, against which, however, he was well provided, having upon him a thick steel armour and fire-arms, thought it necessary to entice you to the trap-door, and bring you among us with your servantyou may think his conduct impudent, such is also our opinion of it.
“At the first notice of your arrest, we were both surprised and astounded.
“We took council together; you were at first doomed to perpetual imprisonment in one of the vaults, or to be immediately put to death.
“At length your youth and courage prevailed, and it was resolved that you should be set at liberty, if you agree to the following conditions.
“First, you must swear by what is most sacred to a sailor, your honour, never to mention to any one what you have seen here this night, not even to give the slightest hint about it.
“Second, At your return to the landlord, you must tell him that you were dreadfully frightened and alarmed at the apparition you saw in his house, and engage him to pull it down, and make the best of the materials, as nobody will ever live among spectres who have sworn vengeance to him and his family if the house be inhabited.
“Should you consent to these conditions, you shall be set free, and your servant also.
“But mind, if you ever break the oath that is required of you, on the least danger threatening us, the next day shall not see you alive.
“We have confederates in all parts of the country, who will avenge us, and strike the fatal blow your wild will would have deserved.
“Your servant has seen nothing since he has been among us.
“Should he attempt to speak of being let down a trap, and seeing strange men, contradict him flatly, and treat his speech as the wanderings of an imagination deceived by terror, or the effect of liquor.
“I leave you now to your reflections, and give you an hour to make up your mind.”
The captain then rose, and walked to and fro with hurried steps, and then left the vaulted chamber.
Young Warbeck requested pen, ink, and paper, and wrote as follows:—
“Captain, I have had for a few moments a most terrible struggle in my mind.
“Honour and duty have alternately presented themselves to my imagination, but I have at last concluded that I can, by fulfilling what you require of me, keep the one unspotted without departing from the other.
“I will take the oath demanded.
“Your humanity and sense of honour have brought me to this determination, which fear or threats could not have extorted from me.”
He awaited with impatience the captain’s return, who in about an hour re-entered and took his seat at table.
Ned then handed him the letter he had just written.
The captain cast a rapid glance over the contents, and rising bade Ned Warbeck lift up his hand, and solemnly take the oath.
This done, he stepped towards him, and restored to him his sword, in token of freedom.
He gave him also two guides, who led him quickly for about six or seven hundred yards, under immense arches formed by nature, and brought him out near a torrent bordered by a thicket of brushwood.
Two horses were here in readiness for Ned Warbeck and Tim.
As they mounted to ride away, their conductors said, in solemn, warning tones,
“Remember your oath!”
“I will,” said Ned, in an undertone.
He and Tim rode rapidly away.