Heavy drops of thunder rain, pattering upon the roof above and upon the stone flags that surrounded the front of the church, awakened Tom Clifford at early dawn on the morning after he had led the French troopers to their defensive post. Not that the rumbling thunder outside nor the patter of the raindrops awakened him to a sense of his position. For our hero had been sunk in a deep sleep, which nothing had disturbed up till this moment. Now, however, the disturbance gave rise in his half-slumbering brain to a train of thought which was half-delicious, half the reverse. For Tom was back again in his home, beneath the shadow of that grand mulberry tree, with Father Thames flowing past the forecourt silently, swiftly, incessantly, as if ever engaged upon a purpose. Yes, he was beneath the hospitable and safe roof of Septimus John Clifford & Son, Wine Merchants, with Marguerite as his chum and close attendant, with the ever-faithful Huggins, his father's senior clerk, to smile indulgently upon him, and Septimus John Clifford himself to praise his efforts to acquire Portuguese and Spanish and French.
"Heigho!" he yawned loudly, stretching his arms wide apart. "Beastly stuff this Portuguese and French and Spanish," he babbled, still half-asleep. "Let's go out on the river, Marguerite."
Then a shadow crossed the horizon of this pleasant half-waking dream. A youth slipped into the arena at the far corner, a youth of olive complexion, whose thin limbs writhed and twisted incongruously, whose fingers twitched and plucked at moving lips, and whose very appearance bespoke indecision, a wavering courage, meanness, and all that that implies. It was José, Tom's cousin, and his image drew a growl from our hero.
"Always interfering and getting in the way," he grunted peevishly. "I have to watch him like a cat for fear he will illtreat his sister. Was there ever such a fellow?"
The train of pleasant thought was switched off at once, and Tom dreamed the scenes through which he had passed. His seizure by those rascals, his impressment, and what had followed. Then a second figure thrust itself into the arena, and swept across his sluggish brain. It was that of a short man, of middle age, prone to stoutness; clean shaven, with features which attracted because of the obvious power they displayed, features set off by a pair of wonderfully steady and penetrating eyes that spoke of firmness of purpose, of ambition soaring to the heights, and—yes—of a relentless spirit which strove at the attainment of any and every object at whatever cost.It was Napoleon, Napoleon Bonaparte, the one-time Corporal, the Little Corsican, he who had attained to the throne of France, and now, spurred on by a restless ambition, sought to see himself emperor of all countries, ruler of Spain through his brother, now known as King Joseph, King of Portugal, and even the Lord of England. A crashing detonation brought Tom to his feet with a start, wide-eyed, and very much awake.
"What's that?" he demanded, scarcely able to believe even now that he had been dreaming. Still, the presence of the trooper standing sentry at the door, and his obvious freedom from anxiety, reassured him. Ah, there was another detonation, and then a long-drawn-out rumble!
"A summer storm, monsieur," said the trooper. "It will be a fine day yet, and the storm will clear the air. It gets light rapidly, and in a little while we shall be able to see the pigs who have attacked us."
But Tom was thinking of something else beside the Portuguese peasants who sought to kill the little band of troopers, together with himself and his English companions. His thoughts suddenly turned to the urgent need of supplies. Water was wanted; it was running to waste outside.
"Andrews!" he shouted, and at the order the stalwart rifleman stumbled forward, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Howeley being close behind him. In the dim light of the coming day they drew themselveserect as if by force of habit, and saluted, Howeley taking time by his comrade.
"Sir!" they answered in one voice.
"We want water. Hunt round to find some roof gutter and a tub, if there is such a thing. Get us a store somehow; it means life or death to us. I'll see to other matters."
He saw the two set off at once, and then clambered up the steep flight of stone steps that led to the ledge above the broken door of the church. Standing upright there, he looked out towards the village, and found that he could already see the nearer houses. But a mist was rising, which, together with the heavy rain that was falling, made seeing rather difficult. Then, turning sharply to the left, he entered the room which the trooper had reported on the previous evening. The man lay at the entrance, with a comrade beside him, both sunk in deep sleep. But at Tom's coming they rose swiftly.
"It was too dark to explore last night," said one of them, "but monsieur can see now that this is not only a church. There is a large building attached to it, perhaps the house occupied by the pastor. But it is empty, I think, for we have heard no sounds from it."
"Then we will investigate," answered Tom. "Stay here, one of you, while you," and he indicated the man who had spoken, "bring your carbine and come with me. It is already light enough to see where we are going."
Crossing the floor of the room, Tom found it lumbered with masses of stone and with builders' tools. It was clear, in fact, that some sort of work was in progress. There was an arched doorway at the far end that gave admission to a hall, or meeting place, from which steps led to rooms above, all scantily furnished.
"The pastor's house without a doubt," said Tom. "Next thing is to see what's underneath. A larder crammed with food would be more to my liking than any amount of furniture. Here's the stairway. It's dark; mind how we go."
Very carefully and silently they descended the stairs, and soon found themselves in a flagged passage. Doors opened upon it, and, pushing them wide in turn, Tom discovered living-rooms fully furnished, though the articles within were covered with sheets.
"A regular spring cleaning," he said to the trooper, with a grin that set the Gallic warrior smiling widely. "It's clear that the pastor has gone away while workmen have possession of the house. But—my uncle!—that's a larder, and here's the kitchen."
No one but those who have experienced it know the delight a soldier on service finds in the discovery of dainties. Rations are apt to pall after a while, and men long for the trifles which are commonly to be found upon the tables of those who lead a more peaceful existence. And here was a find. The careful housewife of the pastor, his housekeeper, or whoeversaw to his material wants, had set by a store at the sight of which Tom's mouth watered.
"My uncle!" he exclaimed again, running his eye along a row of preserves neatly bottled, and surveying a dozen hams hanging to hooks in a ceiling beam. "But—" and at the word his jovial face fell and lengthened till it was like a fiddle. "But they ain't ours to take—eh?"
The trooper grinned widely. He was an old soldier, and though he may have had his scruples, a limited diet for the past few weeks, and a gnawing at his stomach now, swept all scruples aside.
"Monsieur then prefers to starve with plenty beneath his nose?" he asked politely, drawing himself up and shouldering his carbine, so that the muzzle struck the low ceiling violently. "Parbleu!There is reason why we should eat these good things, monsieur. But for the pigs who hem us in, and for their hatred of us, we could step outside and buy what is required. That is so, monsieur?"
"Exactly," came the crisp answer, while Tom still surveyed the good things hungrily.
"But we cannot set out for the market. These pigs send bullets at us instead of food. That being so,vraiment, monsieur, surely here comes in a law of nature. To live one must eat. Here, then, is the wherewithal to obey that law."
The rascal grounded his weapon with a resonant bang, and put his nose within an inch of one of the hams.
"Ready cooked—meant to be eaten," he gasped. "Monsieur will——"
Tom's courage and scruples broke down under such subtle temptation. Besides, here it was a case of necessity. He took the ham from its hook, caught up a bag of dried biscuit, and then gave an inquisitive kick to a huge barrel, getting back a dull, telling sound.
"Full to the bung,monsieur—the wine of the country. Something with which to slake our thirst, and so enable us to defeat the enemy."
"Send for two of the troopers at once," said Tom. "Let them remove the contents of the larder to the room above. But, wait. Let us complete our investigations."
When they had at length been over the whole of the premises they had come to the conclusion that the house had at one time been a clergy house, and had harboured many people; for at the far end of the passage they found a door admitting to still more rooms, and then to an enormous yard, about which was a high wall. A pair of huge doors led from this beneath an archway, supporting a portion of what proved to be stables, in which were a couple of nags, while the eager trooper discovered stores of hay and corn in a loft adjoining.
"And a water trough and pump in the yard," cried Tom, delighted at such a find. "There you are, water in plenty," he added, working the pump and sending a gushing torrent pouring from the ancient spout.
The discovery they had made was, indeed, of the greatest moment; but it brought this in its train: it compelled the leader of the defenders to make up his mind whether to vacate quarters which had, so far, proved an excellent refuge, or whether to hold to them, trusting to procure provisions and water from the clergy house so closely adjacent. It was characteristic of Tom, perhaps, that before the trooper had time to ask the question, he had come to a decision.
"Listen," he said peremptorily. "The windows of this place all face into the yard. You saw no others?"
"None: it is as monsieur describes."
"And the wall outside the place, surrounding the yard, is so high that a man must use a ladder to ascend and descend."
"Vraiment, monsieur; otherwise he would be crushed as if he were an egg."
"Then we change quarters. Leave the ham and come along. Wait, though—get the key of the doors leading into the yard. See if you can open them."
The trooper dashed away, and in a trice came back, widely grinning.
"They were in the lock, monsieur," he reported. "All, in fact, was in readiness for us. It is clear that the Portuguese expected our coming, and prepared us a welcome!"
"Stand by the doors: open when you hear our men coming."
Tom went off at his fastest pace, and was soon scrambling down on to the floor of the church. A glance outside told him that rain was still falling, while an occasional clap of thunder warned him that the storm was still at hand. But there were figures over by the village; half a dozen men stood in a bunch, and the light was now so strong that one could see that they were armed.
"Fall in," shouted Tom; and at once the men came tumbling forward, and lined up in front of him. Very rapidly, then, Tom told off half their number to fetch the horses. The others he again divided, posting three men above the doorway, four behind the carcass of the horse, while the rest were told off to carry Mr. Riley and Jack. Very rapidly he explained in French what he was about to do.
"When we have the horses ready," he said, "pull this carcass aside, and then let those in charge lead the beasts down the steps and direct to the left. Turn sharp to the left again at the end of a wall and you will come to a doorway; lead them in there. Now, hasten. Those fellows beyond there are merely waiting for the rain to cease. We shall be in clover, and eating a substantial breakfast, my lads—yes, for I have discovered a store of provisions—before the enemy guess what is happening."
Soldiers are not the class of individuals to be upset by surprise. A constantly changing life such as a campaign brings accustoms them to quick and unexpected changes. Moreover, here they had confidencein the young Englishman who had so suddenly taken command of the party. There was, therefore, not so much as a question. In less than five minutes all were ready, while Mr. Riley was by then halfway up the steep flight of steps leading to the house. Andrews stood beside the carcass of the horse, the perspiration streaming from him; for he had raced round the church and inspected every corner.
"Ready, sir?" he asked.
Tom nodded.
"Then heave," called Andrews, tugging at one of the legs of the dead animal. The troopers threw themselves upon the carcass at once, and in a trice it had been dragged aside.
"Now out with them 'ere horses," commanded Andrews hoarsely. "Beg pardon, sir, but I don't know what you're up to. This is certain though: there's not a drop of water in the church."
"There's heaps where we're going," answered Tom laconically. "Heaps."
"And grub, beggin' pardon again, sir?"
"Could you eat ham, well-cooked ham, Andrews?" asked Tom, without a smile.
"Ham! Bust me——!" began the rifleman.
"And preserves. Perhaps the wine of Portugal wouldn't be good enough for you, though. There's at least one barrel of it where we're going."
Andrews' eyes shone with expectation. He moistened his lips with the tip of his tongue. "Foodand drink, sir," he gasped, as if the news were too good. "Plenty of it, too. Why—bust me!—--"
He could get no further than that expression; it conveyed his whole meaning. But the eyes which looked Tom Clifford up and down an instant later had, if possible, just a little more respect in them.
"If he don't walk right off with the palm," spluttered the rifleman. "Here's he, a civilian—yes, a civilian—and he jest takes this little lot by the hand as you might say, and shepherds them. When there's trouble with the peasants, he sets about and gives 'em proper snuff. And when things is getting queer, and grub's scare, and water run clean out, why here he makes a man dance with news of hams—yes, hams he did say—and wine—why, it's Wellington hisself couldn't have done better!"
Two by two the horses went clattering down the steps of the church and out into the open. Shouts came from the direction of the village, while other figures joined those bunched together in the rain. Splashes of flame and loud reports showed that shots were being fired; but still the procession of horses came from the church. When all were out, there were, perhaps, fifty of the enemy watching and firing, while others came rushing from the houses. It appeared, too, as if they expected the troopers to mount at once and gallop away; for horns sounded in the distance, while men went dashing in all directions, as if to warn outlying parties to close in and surround the troopers. Perched now on the ledge over thedoorway, Tom watched as the horses were led along beside the wall, and saw them swing round the corner. He waited three minutes, when a trooper came dashing to him through the room which was littered with masons' tools and implements.
"Monsieur, all the horses are in the yard; the doors are shut."
"Then let two of you take charge of the forage, not forgetting that it must last a week at least. Feed the horses and water them."
"Mr. Riley's safe in bed in one o' the rooms yonder, as snug as ef he was aboard his own ship, sir," reported Howeley, arriving on the scene now, and grinning his delight. "Mr. Barwood's ditto, a cussin', sir, 'cos he says as he's fit fer duty."
"Feed them," answered Tom. "You'll find the larder below; take charge of it, Howeley. I make you responsible for all it contains; but carry something to the two officers promptly. Now, Andrews," he said, as that worthy came towards him, "let's clear the church of all our traps. There are saddle bags and other things to bring with us; there's the ammunition also."
"Cleared, sir," reported the rifleman, delight showing in every feature. "I thought as you'd enough and too much to see to, and so I give them Frenchies orders. They're quick to hop, are them froggies. It's friends, not enemies, we ought to be. But the church is clear, sir; there's a dead horse left, and a few of the peasants as was too inquisitive."
"Then we'll get to breakfast," said Tom heartily. "You've recalled the man from the tower?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then post one of the troopers on this ledge, and come along. Something to eat will put us all in a good temper and fit us for the trouble that's brewing. Those peasants don't seem yet to have gathered what we are up to. But, in a little while, when they have guessed at our move, they'll be swarming this way. Here we are. Across this hall and down the stairs. Ah, there's Howeley—well?"
"Taking food to the orficers, sir," grinned the latter, appearing in the doorway of the larder with some fine slices of ham and a jug of wine, while a second plate was loaded with biscuit. "There's a store here, sir, as would make the whiskers of a commissariat serjeant curl, sir—so it would! There's ham, biscuit, jam, cheese, flour, and what not. This here ruction's put us into clover."
It took perhaps half an hour for Tom's party to settle down in their new quarters; because, first of all, there were the wounded officers and the horses to attend to. For the former Howeley had already done service, so that when Tom, relieved of all immediate anxiety, went upstairs to them, he found his two comrades stretched on a pair of comfortable beds, the naval lieutenant brimming over with good humour, and Jack just swallowing his anger at the sight of the food which the rifleman had brought.
"Of all the wretched bits of luck I ever struck thisis the worst," he declared, managing, however, to bury his teeth in a fine, thick slice of ham. "Here am I, crocked up because of a bullet fired by some peasant fool from a blunderbus, and you, Tom, having all the fun. It's wretched luck; everything's wrong. Why, there's not even——"
What his next grumble would have been it is difficult to imagine, but Mr. Riley cut him short with loud laughter.
"Everything's wrong, Tom, my lad," he laughed heartily, holding up a slice of ham as big as that held by Jack. "Here we are, stretched on wretchedly comfortable beds, when we ought to be lying on stone flags which are really helpful when a man wishes to sleep. And we've grub too—grub, when we ought to be without rations. But the most serious part of the whole affair is that while we've really quite decent ham to eat, fair wine to drink, and hard biscuit to chew, we've no mustard to go with the ham. I protest, sir! It's a real hardship."
That set them all laughing, till the gallant lieutenant choked and became crimson, and put his hand to his side with a cry of pain. Jack sat up, his eyes shining, his teeth occupied with another bite. Howeley, ever mindful of discipline, stood rigidly at attention, his jaws moving from side to side as he strove to prevent himself from joining in the merriment.
"Well, I'm hanged!" was all that Jack could at length deliver himself of. "This is clover! Have some, Tom?"
They made a merry meal there, our hero seated on the edge of Jack's bed; and much they enjoyed the fare which good fortune had provided. Howeley, meanwhile, with Andrews and the rest of the men were discussing an equally satisfying meal, the first-named having, at Tom's wish, taken over the supply department. Horses had by then been watered, and were now tied to rings ranged along the wall of the yard, munching contentedly at heaps of hay placed at their heads for them.
"Sapristi!But I never saw the like before," ventured one grizzled trooper, taking to his pipe when he had finished his own meal, and levelling his remarks at Andrews. "Never before!"
"Right!" ejaculated Andrews. "Très bien!" for he had picked up an odd word or two of the language. "Proper sort, ain't he?"
"Mais, he is remarkable," went on the man in his own language, since he knew no other. "See us yesterday. We are surrounded. We are hemmed in by a thousand wild beasts; our captain is killed; our serjeants are biting the dust. We ourselves are like lost sheep. And he, this youth, he leads us to the church, where there is nothing—nothing, mark you, comrade, but stone walls and floors. Now look at us! We live in luxury. The horses are content. This youth laughs with his comrades as if a Portuguese cut-throat did not exist, and as if the British army was within hearing. He is a second Bonaparte."
It was praise of our hero, coming from the lips ofa Frenchman, and Andrews endorsed the remarks with vehemence. Not that he understood what was said. He gathered merely that compliments were flying with regard to our hero, and stanchly supported him.
"He's a toff, he is," he answered, stretching himself at his ease, and drawing at his pipe. "A chip of the old block. He's jest British to the backbone, from the soles of his feet right up to the crown of his head. I'll punch the face of any as dares to say that I'm a liar."
The threat was accompanied by a gleam of the eye that had warned enemies of the riflemen before then; and the Frenchman, with the quickness and perception of his race, must have followed closely, for he jerked himself nearer the rifleman in his enthusiasm, gripped him by both hands, and would have embraced him, had not Andrews, with true British dislike of a scene of such a description, put him firmly aside.
"None o' yer monkey tricks fer me," he called out. "But I'm with you all the while. Here's my hand on it."
At that moment a loud report aroused the garrison. Tom appeared at the entrance to the courtyard, and at once, as if by agreement, the troopers formed line, and drew themselves up as if for an inspection. Tom emerged into the courtyard at once—for the rain had ceased now for some while—and slowly inspected his men.
"We've had a good breakfast," he said, with a smile which went far to put heart into the troopers. "Now we've to work for the next meal. The peasants are approaching. We must get to our stations; and remember, please, fire as seldom as possible. This siege may last a week yet, so ammunition is most important. An hour ago water and food were most in request; you have both now. Then look carefully after the only other commodity that matters."
They broke their ranks at once, and went to their stations, for each had been allotted one. Two men stood guard on the ledge above the doorway of the church, crouching so that those below could not see them. The room behind contained half a dozen more figures, with Andrews to command them. Elsewhere, in the room over the doorway leading into the courtyard were Howeley and three men, while the remainder watched from the upper windows which faced the yard, ready at a call to go in either direction.
As for the enemy, they appeared in swarms, tramping from the village, armed with every sort of weapon. Crouching on the ledge above the church door Tom watched their approach with some amount of curiosity, wondering what they would do, and whether they suspected the change which had taken place so early in the morning. Then he noticed a dozen men detach themselves from the mob, and move out before them. They halted when some fifty paces from their friends and laid down their weapons. Then they advanced again till within easy speaking distance of thechurch door. Tom at once rose to his full height, the sight of his figure drawing shouts from the mob in the background. Then there was silence.
"We come as a deputation," said one of the little band who had advanced. "We come to speak to the Englishman."
"I am here; what do you want?" answered our hero promptly.
"We bear a message. The elders of the village and the leaders of the peasants again make you an offer. You are free to leave the place with your four English comrades. An escort will be allowed, and you will be taken to the nearest camp. You may carry arms and your personal possessions. Refuse, and you shall be slaughtered with the hated Frenchmen whom we are sworn to kill."
"Then take my answer," called Tom loudly. "Two of my comrades are hurt, and cannot move, so that we could not accept your terms. Even so, we would refuse. Now take warning from me again. We have shown you that we can fight, and we are all the more ready for trouble now that day has come and we have slept. Go to the nearest camp and send troops to us. The Frenchmen shall then become prisoners. Those are the only terms we will agree to."
"Then you will not take freedom and safety for yourself?" asked the spokesman.
"I will not," came the short answer.
"Then you shall live but a little while to regretsuch action. To-night we will hoist the heads of every one of you to the tower of the church. You are a bigger fool than I thought you."
He turned about with his fellows and retreated. They picked up their arms and joined their comrades, when a loud discussion followed. Then once more the forward move was continued, Tom and his men watching as a mob five hundred strong bore down upon the building.
"I see ladders amongst them," said Andrews of a sudden, peering over our hero's shoulder. "That looks as if they would attempt to climb the wall of the yard. Then they guess where we've got to."
The next few minutes showed that the enemy were fully alive to the situation. They steered away from the door of the church, a few on the flank alone advancing toward it. The remainder surrounded the yard and the house, and, a shot having been fired by one as a signal, all rushed in to the attack, the ladder bearers winning their way to the wall without difficulty, while a chosen band made an onslaught upon the doors which gave entrance.
"Stand back so that they cannot see you," commanded Tom, as the peasants rushed madly at the entrance of the church that the troopers had defended so gallantly on the previous evening, and above which they were now stationed. "There is no need for us to risk their bullets yet. Let them climb, and then we will use our spears again and teach them that, if anything, we are in a stronger position."
The advice came in time to save many a wound without shadow of doubt; for while two or three hundred of the maddened Portuguese had swarmed along the walls of the house, and turning the corner abruptly had then made a fierce onslaught on the gate leading into the yard, or were endeavouring to clamber to the top of the wall, an almost equal number had selected the church door for their own particular effort. They came on at the double, brandishing an assortment of strange weapons, weapons which, though they were not similar to those carried by the troops, and had seen many and many a summer, and, in fact, were wont to be used more often in the peaceful employment of agriculture, were still capable ofgiving terrible wounds, wielded as they were by men who seemed actually to be maddened by the sight of the defenders. The affair in which Tom and his friends found themselves so strangely and unexpectedly mixed was, indeed, one of those sad exhibitions of savagery to be met with, alas! in time of war, when such war is accompanied by atrocities. Knowing something of the history of this Peninsula campaign, and guessing at the rest, Tom could realize that the Portuguese peasant had suffered severely at the hands of vindictive troops who had been given a more or less free hand. The French bore an unenviable reputation for rapine, and history tells clearly that while the Spaniards had no very great cause of complaint, the Portuguese were often enough horribly treated. And at this time, when the French were slowly being forced in front of our armies towards the Portuguese frontier, driven in spite of their numbers out of a country they had sworn to hold, the atrocities committed were many. They did not stop at burning villages and ruining crops. Defenceless people were killed and horribly illtreated. Even the women and children were subjected to violence. And here was a direct result. One could hardly blame the peasants. Reprisals, terrible reprisals when the opportunity came, were but a natural sequence to violence.
"I have known these brutes waylay the rearguard of two battalions marching north, and capture everyone," said a trooper who was close to Tom, craning his head so as to see the mob from over the edge ofthe parapet. "Yes, monsieur, I have known them to capture a hundred men, and when the news reached us, and we, a full regiment of cavalry, galloped to the spot, we found every one of our brothers murdered, done to death by torture.Vraiment!It made our blood boil. It makes us fight now till there is not a breath left in us."
Tom sighed. It was not often that he indulged in such a melancholy act; but the thing saddened him. In the midst of an attack it is true that he could forget the reasons for it, could almost forget the nationality of the enemy, but in his more serene moments he could not help but see the fact that these were but peasants, and that their rage and hatred were natural. Nevertheless, to allow them to chop himself and his little command to pieces because the French had earned reprisals was a very different matter. Self-preservation is one of the first laws ingrafted in us, and in Tom it was acutely displayed.
"Keep lower, my friend," he warned the trooper. "Ah! They have rushed into the church, perhaps hoping that we have left a comrade or two there. Soon they will try the steps, and then there will be a hubbub. Stand back, you men with the spears; and recollect, no shots, no wasting ammunition. Beat them back with the spears or with your sabres. Now, I will go to see how the others fare."
He left the faithful Andrews in charge of the party, and, passing into the clergy house, popped his head into the room occupied a little while before by Jackand Mr. Riley. They were gone; it was evident that they had risen. Pushing on, he came to the windows commanding the yard, and there discovered the truants.
"What's this?" he demanded somewhat curtly.
"Disobeying orders," smiled Mr. Riley, while Jack looked his friend up and down for a few seconds, as if he resented interference, and then grinned widely.
"Never did see such a cormorant, sir," he said, addressing the naval lieutenant. "Here he is; he gets up a row with these poor peasants, bottles us in bed, and expects us to stay there. Not if I know it!"
Jack hopped on one leg to the far window, steadied himself there, and then slowly lifted a carbine which he had managed to secure.
"You go along and see to the defence generally, lad," cried Mr. Riley, slapping our hero on the back. "Jack and I couldn't be expected to stay in that room when such an attack was being made. You leave us in charge of this part of the defences, and even if we can't do much, we can at least encourage the men and see that all goes well. It will leave you free to arrange other matters. Ah! The beggars have managed to get to the top of the wall; they've failed once at the gate."
The attack on the latter had, in fact, been easily driven off; for the little room built over it projected a couple of feet beyond the face of the wall, and was provided with a wide door and a trap, while a woodencrane swung outside. It was, therefore, a matter of no great difficulty to open the trap and fire directly down upon the attackers, while Howeley, the energetic commander of the post, had already contrived to gather a respectable number of paving stones from the yard below, and with these had beaten down the attackers.
"Made 'em hop mighty quick, sir," he said. "There must have been twenty dozen of the beggars, all as mad as hatters. But even mad people feel blows when landed on their heads. You can see what happened."
Tom peeped through the trap. Down at the foot of the gate were three peasants prone and still, while two more were slowly crawling away. At a distance of fifty feet there was a bunch of a hundred, eyeing the gateway with savage looks, and discussing the situation hoarsely. Then some went away at a run, returning in less than five minutes with a long beam.
"Going to try a battering ram," said Tom, rather scared at the sight.
"We'll give 'em battering," came the reassuring words from the rifleman.
"I've two men posted down in the yard with their carbines, and we've knocked a couple of holes in the gates. If we can't reach the enemy from above here, the boys below can manage. They've filled up their barrels with pebbles scraped up from between the paving stones. The shots will scare the peasants same as if they was birds."
A glance at the sturdy fellow showed that he had no fears with regard to his own particular defences, and, staying there a moment, Tom had full reason to trust him; for the mob outside were in such temper that delay was out of the question. Some fifty of their number began to fire at the gateway and at the trapdoor above, while their comrades picked up the huge beam and advanced at a run, shouting loudly to encourage one another. Crash! went the end of the beam against the gates, shaking them severely. Then came the clatter of stones. Standing well above the attackers, Howeley and his two troopers advanced in turn, elevated a paving stone, took careful aim, and then threw it downwards. With a shout of terror the attackers promptly retired. A minute later, however, they came forward again at a run, and on this occasion a dozen of their number bore muskets. Stationing themselves in such position that they could fire through the open trap, they sent their bullets thudding into the ceiling of the room, making it impossible for Howeley and his men to take effective aim. Meanwhile the others ran in, and, picking up their beam, swung it backward in preparation for another blow.
"Jest you keep on tossing them stones over," commanded Howeley, as if the troopers could understand every word. "Savvy, me lads? Don't show up, but jest lift a stone same as this, standing well back, and heave it through. It'll hit something."
It did. A howl from below, and a chorus of shoutsand cries greeted the stone, while one of the men holding the beam fell as if struck by a poleaxe.
"Savvy?" asked Howeley curtly.
"Bien!" came the equally curt answer.
"Then jest you look to it."
Howeley went off as if he were provided with wings, and a moment or two later Tom heard him shouting to the troopers down in the yard.
"Jest give 'em mustard," he bellowed. "You've got that, me lads? Mustard's the stuff they're wanting. Let in at 'em."
A loud roar followed his words instantly, and then a second. Smoke billowed up through the trap, while a torrent of yells and cries came from the mob. Tom glanced over the edge, to find the beam lying on the ground and the attackers in full flight, save for those struck down by the slugs and bullets which had been discharged at them.
However, the fury of a mob is a thing to tremble at. The poor wretches outside came on again, bearing a ladder, and in a trice the latter was safely wedged in the open trap. Desperate men swarmed on to it, and it looked as if there would soon be a contest at the top. But Howeley's paving stones were irresistible. They swept the rungs of the ladder clean, and in less than a minute the ladder was tossed down and the frantic enemy was in full retreat.
"Well done!" cried Tom, delighted at the success gained in this quarter, but sorry, nevertheless, for thepeasants. "I can leave you here knowing that all will be well. What's that?"
He went racing back to the windows occupied by Jack and the naval officer, to discover that a commotion had suddenly arisen in the yard over by the far containing wall. The tops of a dozen ladders could be seen against the skyline, perched against the outside of the wall, while the broad summit of the latter was thickly covered with defiant peasants. They clustered thickly along the top, some firing their muskets at the figures in the window. Others had managed to drag up two ladders, and having dropped these into the yard were now swarming down.
"Into the yard!" shouted Tom at once, leading the way downstairs at a run, and dashing outside where the horses were quartered. He was joined by a dozen troopers within a few seconds, who all raced across the yard, their sabres swinging in their hands. One of their number, a light horseman by the look of him, outdistanced his fellows, and gripping one of the ladders dragged it aside with all his force, and sent it thudding into the yard with a couple of the peasants upon it. But a dozen and more of the latter had contrived to descend the second ladder, and at once there began a desperate hand-to-hand contest, pikes and scythes being opposed to sabres.
"GRIPPING ONE OF THE LADDERS DRAGGED IT ASIDE WITH ALL HIS FORCE"
"GRIPPING ONE OF THE LADDERS DRAGGED IT ASIDE WITH ALL HIS FORCE"
"Hold them, lads!" came in stentorian tones from Mr. Riley, in spite of his wound. "Hold them for a little, Tom. We'll have the other boys along in a jiffy."
Stamping with impatience because common sense and lack of strength told him that he himself was unfit to join in the mêlée, and, in fact, even to clamber down the steps, the naval lieutenant put to good purpose a stentorian voice trained in a service where lung power is required, and where the weakling is useless. In spite of the roar of the mob Andrews and Howeley heard him, and, rallying in his direction, went headlong down the stairs, with a number of their fellows with them. They arrived just in time to stem the tide of invasion. The ladder still remaining upright, and loaded with peasants scrambling to the help of their comrades, was thrown down by a couple of the troopers. And then, for the space of five minutes perhaps, there was a fierce struggle in the yard. The troopers at a shout from Tom separated themselves and formed a ring round the invaders, while the latter, taken aback now that they found themselves cut off from all help by their comrades, retired towards the wall, their scythes held well in front of them, their eyes furtively seeking for some hole or corner which would give them security.
"Hold!" cried Tom loudly, anxious to save unnecessary bloodshed. "You men keep your formation. Now," he went on sternly, addressing the Portuguese in their own tongue, "I give you a moment in which to lay down your arms, promising on the word of an Englishman that you shall not be injured. Answer."
With a sullen clang the peasants tossed their armsto the pavement, and stood glowering at the troopers, fearful yet whether they would be murdered.
"Form into line, two abreast," commanded Tom again. "Howeley, just get to your post and tell us if the enemy are near. I'm going to eject these fellows."
He waited till there came a hail from the rifleman.
"All clear, sir," he shouted. "Them fellers has had a stomachful and has cleared."
"Then get below and make ready to open one of the gates. My lads," he said, addressing the troopers, who regarded their prisoners with no very friendly looks, "these men have thrown down their arms on my promise that they shall go unharmed. You will march beside them to the gate and stand about in case of a rally. Pick up your wounded and killed," he called to the peasants. "You will march straight across to the gate, and will pass out without attempting violence. Any man who disobeys will be killed instantly. Let this be a lesson to you. Go to your comrades and tell them that we are well able to defend ourselves, and that it would be better far for them and all if they left us alone. Now, march."
Looking forlorn and frightened, and regarding the troopers with eyes which showed even now, though rather cowed, their hatred of them, the peasants picked up their comrades, of whom a number had fallen, and bore them to the gate. Two minutes later they were gone, wending their way from the defences sadly, and in different spirit from that which hadfilled them a little while before. Crash went the gate. Howeley threw the bar into position and turned the key.
"Well done!" came from the window above in loud tones. "Well done all of you!"
Glancing up, Tom saw the jovial naval lieutenant waving eagerly to him, while close at hand was Jack's grinning and perspiring face. He was actually shaking a fist at our hero.
"Lucky brute!" he growled in a voice so quaint, and with such queer grimaces, that even the French troopers could see the humour.
"Lucky brute to be able to hop about and take part in all these skirmishes. Wouldn't I give something to be in your shoes."
"And right well ye'd do, sir, begging pardon," came from Andrews, whom the contest had worked up to a degree of excitement. "But it's well for us all that Mr. Clifford's here, begging pardon, sir."
"Well said," shouted Mr. Riley. "Ah, I wish to goodness I could talk French! I'd make a speech in Tom's favour. I'd call for cheers."
"Then here's three cheers fer Mr. Tom," came from Andrews in bellowing tones, cheers in which the troopers joined lustily, for they fully understood the gist of what was passing.
"And now?" asked Mr. Riley, wiping the perspiration from his face. "Now, Tom, after that precious near squeak?"
"Any damage done?" asked our hero at once. Heran his eyes over the troopers, and soon discovered that four had been wounded, though, fortunately, none of the wounds were severe.
"Then pitch those ladders up against the wall again and look about for a strong plank. We'll make a bit of a platform above, where we can post a few men. They'll be able to keep others of the peasants from trying the same game. How are things passing at the church door?"
An inspection there proved that the enemy had retreated, though doubtless some of them were within the church. However, for the moment at least, the bulk of the mob had gone, and Tom took advantage of the lull to make his preparations for feeding the defenders. The kitchen fire was soon roaring up the chimney, while outside, in the yard, there was another blaze. A trooper, booted and spurred, and stripped to his shirt, bent over a huge basin perched on a low wooden table, and sturdily pummelled a mass of dough. Near at hand stood another, stripped like his fellow, thrusting his long moustaches upward toward his eyes.
"Nom de nomme, but this is soldiering!" he was saying to his comrade, as he added handfuls of flour from an open sack. "This is what a man can call campaigning."
"Eh? Ah!" the other grunted. "Mais pourquoi?"
"Hear him!" came the astonished answer, while the trooper held a floury hand aloft as if to show his amazement. "He asks why, when the reason isplain.Dites donc, mon fou; is it so often, then, that we fight under the eye and command of an Englishgarçon? Poof! That is the charm of the thing. I tell you, yesterday I said to myself: 'Pierre, you will be chopped to pieces before the sun comes up to-morrow. You and your comrades will be but mince meat.'"
The man kneading the dough shivered and grunted his disapproval. "Gently, comrade," he growled. "You will spoil the tart I am making. What then?"
"What then? He asks what then? See here,mon brave, we have fighting, heaps of it, and it is the peasants—poor fools!—who are chopped to pieces. We have excitement and work fit for a soldier, I say, and, with it all, see also what we get. Ah! I smell meat cooking, and here is something that we have not seen for many a long day."
He went clanking his spurs across to a corner where the watchful Howeley had deposited a huge jar of jam, and came staggering back with it. The two men took the pan from the low table, lifted the dough from it, and, having thickly dusted the table top with flour, laid their dough upon it. Then came the task of rolling.
"Try that, mate," suggested Howeley, who was now watching the proceedings with a grin of expectation. "Wasn't meant for the job; but beggars can't be choosers."
He offered the barrel of an old firelock, the butt and lock of which had gone, and the trooper tookit with a flourish. Dusting it well, like the table, he rolled the dough with the hand of an expert, and, having satisfied himself that his work was nearly finished, he pinched a corner from the dough and handed it to the rifleman.
"Try," he grunted.
"Real fine!" answered the Cockney. "I'm waiting for this here pie to get finished."
"Then the jam, Pierre."
The second trooper let it fall from the jar into the species of basin which his comrade had now contrived within a shallow pan, and watched as the latter smoothed it down with a wooden ladle. On went the covering of dough, while the cook with skilled eye and hand marked the edges of the pie, dividing it into as many sections as there were defenders.
"Now," he cried, "to the kitchen with it. If we are to be cut to fragments this evening, at noon we will at least dine like gentlemen. Take it, Pierre, and see that you do not get it burned. Then indeed would your punishment be terrible."
Such rejoicing as there was over that meal! Divided into three separate messes, the defenders ate slices of frizzled ham in the recesses of the room above the doorway of the church. Others again washed down the food with liberal allowances of the wine of the country, looking about them through the door opening above the gateway of the yard, while Jack and Mr. Riley held a reception in the corridor from which windows opened into the yard, and there discussedthe good things sent them with many a jest and laugh. Yes, the spirits of the defenders were wonderfully buoyant. And why not?
"Why be miserable while we're alive?" asked Jack, cramming a piece of that wonderful tart into his mouth; for, even if he were wounded, Jack could still show a remarkably undiminished appetite.
"First there's ham, and then there's jam," he sang, till another mouthful kept him silent.
"Indeed, why not be jolly?" chimed in Mr. Riley. "Here we are all tight and weatherproof, as you might say. What's there to grumble at? But, seriously, how on earth is this matter to end? Those peasants have drawn off for the moment; but will they retire from the contest for good? Eh? Now, sir, what's the answer?"
Tom flushed at being addressed in such a manner, and munched steadily at his food. But his deep-set eyes wore a far-away look which showed that he was thinking.
"Eh?" asked Jack, prodding him with the prong of a broken fork discovered in the kitchen. "Do we draw off as victors, receiving well-deserved promotion for this—er—this—shall we say, gallant action? or shall we, in fact——?"
"Be paid the compliment of appearing in theGazetteas 'missing'? My word, that would be hard luck after such a business! Now, Tom?"
"More pie," said the latter deliberately. "Whilst we live we'll eat. But who can say what'll happen?We've given those poor fellows a regular drubbing; but I don't believe they've done with us. I don't like this drawing off, and the silence we now have; it means mischief. I'd give a heap to know what they are up to."
Once the meal was finished, and the horses' wants seen to, the defenders of the place occupied themselves in a hundred different ways. Some cleaned their carbines and burnished their scabbards; others indulged in the luxury of a wash at the pump in the yard; while Tom, on whom the responsibility of everything depended, walked slowly from one end to the other of the defences.
"I'd give a heap to be able to guess rightly what the enemy are up to," he said, for perhaps the tenth time, to Andrews, who seemed to haunt his side. "One sees little or nothing of them."
"Next to nothing, sir," agreed the rifleman, with knitted brows. "But they ain't up to no good, I'm sure of it. You can see 'em come from the village at times and stare over here at us. Then they'll disappear again, while boys and young men scuttle about, and carry armfuls of something that I ain't sure of at this distance. There's been knocking, too, in the church."
"Hum!" Tom pondered over the information. He listened acutely, for he was just at the edge of the platform above the church door. But from that position, indeed from any position held by the defenders, it was impossible to look into the place.Yes, there was knocking, coming from the interior of the church, and——
"I heard a heavy fall, as if stones had been dislodged!" he exclaimed. "Come down below with me, Andrews."
They ran to the stairs, and scuttled down at their fastest pace. Making their way along the corridor they were soon at the kitchen, and then entered a storeroom beyond. It had been ransacked by Howeley and his helpers, and had provided an ample supply of good things. But it was not the contents of the room that interested Tom; it was the wall, the party wall, on the far side of which was the church.
"Listen," he said. "There!"
A glance at the rifleman's face was sufficient to show that he, too, had gathered the full meaning of those blows.
"Can't get at us by fair means, as you might say, sir," he grunted, "so they're agoing to break through the wall. It'll be a teaser to hold 'em if they once get through."
"Couldn't be done," agreed Tom. "There's not room enough here for more than four men. We should be driven back into the yard, and, of course, an attack would be made in other quarters. It is a teaser!"
His face was drawn and stern as he retraced his footsteps, and stopped to discuss the situation with Mr. Riley.
"Of course we could pile all the bales and boxeswe could find against this side of the wall," he said. "But that would not help us; the peasants would pull them into the church. There's no way of blocking up the passage either, and the difficulty of the situation seems to be this: we have now another place to defend, and no men to spare for the work. I think we shall have to try a sortie."
"Or retire up here and hold on to the last," said the naval lieutenant, his face serious. "But they'd smoke us out, or burn the whole place over our heads. I know well the temper of such men as these. Harmless enough as a general rule, but demons now that they are roused. They've suffered frightfully at the hands of the French, and they have made up their minds to retaliate in the best way they can. Well?"
"I'll see," answered Tom shortly. Turning on his heel, he went off with Andrews, and clattered down the stairs to the yard. Yes, there was nothing for it but to defend the upper story of the house, or——
"Or make for the church again," suggested Andrews, for our hero had spoken his thoughts aloud. "You could clear out those fellows who are working there in a twinkling, carry all the grub and wine in—and there you are, as good as ever you were, and better."
"But with a wall still," said Tom dryly. "They could come in here then, and knock the wall down just the same. We should have them pouring in through the church door and through this other opening. Still, there's a lot in the suggestion. Tell me,can you see anyone elsewhere than in and around the village?"
They had mounted to the top of the house, and could obtain a clear view. Both stared out in all directions, and kept silent for a few minutes.
"Heaps at the village, sir," reported Andrews after a while. "A few here and there, watching the surroundings. No big body of them anywheres as I can see."
"Nor I; let's get below."
As if bent on a purpose, Tom led the way to the yard, and then dived into the stable. There were the two nags they had seen when first they established themselves in the place, contentedly munching at the hay with which a thoughtful trooper had provided them. Tom pulled a door open and entered the cart shed.
"Good!" he exclaimed. "Two of them—light carts too. Call Howeley and his men."
The riflemen came plunging down at once, and stood at attention.
"Get the carts out and the horses harnessed in," Tom ordered. "When that's done, load one of the carts with food. We shan't want water or wine, though you can take a small cask of the latter. Don't overload. Now you, my friend," he went on, addressing one of the troopers, "hurry to the rooms above, and bring down a mattress and some blankets. Quick with it!"
"You're going to—beg pardon, sir," beganAndrews, using his accustomed formula. "You ain't going to take French leave of them beauties! Never!"
His smile told of his delight, and of his agreement with the order.
"Take my compliments to Mr. Riley and your own officer, and help them both to descend," said Tom. "When they are safely in the cart on the mattress I have ordered, and armed, Andrews——"
"Yes, sir."
"And armed with carbines, you get to the top of the building and look about you carefully. If all's clear, let me know. Then slip down to join us. Now, I'll collect the other men."
Very silently and swiftly did the troopers obey his orders. At an earlier date they might very well have demurred and hesitated, delaying, perhaps, to discuss the matter; for why should they give obedience to one who was, nominally at least, their prisoner? But Tom had won their confidence, and that is a great thing where troops are concerned. They merely looked their surprise when ordered to repair to the yard and mount their horses, while the man posted over the church door bared his sabre, as if determined that no fault of his should allow a slinking peasant to mount secretly and discover the movement of the garrison.
"Wait till I call you," whispered Tom. "Then run down to the yard and mount your horse. You understand?"
The fellow grinned at him, a grin of interest and friendship.
"Parbleu!An enemy, he!" he grunted, spitting into the palm that gripped his sabre. "By all the fiends, but I, Jacques, would welcome the English as brothers."
The clatter of hoofs told of moving horses, or preparations down below. Not that it was likely to disturb the enemy, for the horses moved often enough, particularly when being watered. Men slipped silently from their defensive posts and crept into the yard, while a couple of brawny troopers bore the injured Jack to the cart, smiling serenely at his angry protestations.
"Treat me as if I were a child," he growled, as Tom came into hearing. "Who said I couldn't walk?"
"I'll leave you behind if you're a trouble," came the answer. "Fiddlesticks, Jack!"
"Or cut his diet down," laughed Mr. Riley, who already lay on the mattress placed on the cart. "That's it, my lad; cut his grub short. That'll make our Jack less fiery. What's up?"
"Going for an airing," came the answer. "Now, men," said our hero, addressing the troopers, who were mounted by now. "You'll fall in on either side of the carts, which will be driven by two selected by yourselves. Spare horses will be led by others. If I have it reported that the coast is clear, we will throw the gates open and ride out. A sharp trot oncewe reach the road will take us away from the village. After that——"
"After that, monsieur?" asked one of the men eagerly.
"We will see. You are prisoners at this moment just as much as we are. If we get through, perhaps we'll call it quits. You'll ride for the army of France, and we for our comrades."
That brought a grin of pleasure to the bronzed faces of the men. They would have cheered had not the need for silence been there. Instead, they picked up their reins, and fell in on either side of the carts, waiting for the signal to open the gates. Tom went back to the sentry he had posted over the church doorway.
"All clear," was the report. "There is still knocking."
"Then get to your horse and mount. I am following."
Tom clambered once more into the yard, and looked up at the window which Andrews occupied.
"All clear," came the gentle hail.
"Then fall in—time we were moving."
All were mounted within a minute, save Howeley, who stood at the gates. "Open," called Tom.
"Open it is, sir," said the rifleman, throwing the gates wide at once.
"Forward!"
Steadily, and without sign of undue haste, the cavalcade rode from the yard into the open, leavinga place which, though it had revictualled them and offered excellent cover, might, were they to hold it longer, lead to disaster. They moved away into the open in regular order, the carts in their midst bearing their wounded and their supplies with them as became good soldiers.
"Trot!" commanded Tom, and at the word the troop set their horses into faster motion, Andrews at their head leading them off obliquely towards a point where the road was accessible.
"Hear 'em!" ejaculated Jack, by no means dismayed, as a torrent of yells and cries came from the village and from a number of points about them. "They don't seem overpleased at our leaving."