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Cormorant Crag; A Tale of the Smuggling Days, a novel by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 40. "Huzza! We're Homeward Bound" |
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_ CHAPTER FORTY. "HUZZA! WE'RE HOMEWARD BOUND" By the time they had done the old man began to revive, but the boat was skimming along over the waves toward Cormorant Crag before he was able to speak coherently. "Where are you going?" he groaned at last. "What's that to you? Home!" said Vince sharply. "Nay, nay; don't take me there, Master Vince--don't! I give in. You two have 'most killed me, but I forgive you; only don't take me there." "You hold your tongue, you old ruffian," cried Vince, who was steering and holding the sheet too, while Mike kept guard with the conger bat. "Mind, Mike. Don't take your eyes off him for a moment, and if he tries to untie a knot, hit him again." "Nay, I'm beat," said the old man, with a groan. "My head! my head!" "Serve you right," cried Mike. "I believe you meant mischief to us." "Oh!" groaned Daygo; and he turned up his eyes till only the whites, or rather the yellows, could be seen, and then lay perfectly still; while the boat bounded onward now towards the island, as if eager to bear the boys to their home. Vince looked hard at the big, heavy figure in the bottom of the boat, as he attended to the sailing and steering; and now that the heat of battle was over, and he sat there in his saturated clothes, he began to wonder at their success in winning the day. Then, as Daygo lay quite still, he began to think that they had gone too far, and his opinion was endorsed by his companion, who suddenly leaned back to look at him, with a face full of horror. "Cinder," he said, "I didn't mean to, but I hit him too hard." "Put the bat down, and come and take the oar and sheet," whispered back Vince, whose nervous feeling increased as the change was made. Vince was no doctor, but he had not been about with his father for years, and dipped into his books, without picking up some few scraps of medical and surgical lore. So, bringing these to bear, he leaned over their prisoner and listened to his breathing, studied his countenance a little, and then placed a couple of fingers upon the man's massive wrist and then at his throat and temples. After this he drew back to where, trembling and ghastly-looking, Mike was watching him, and now whispered, with catching breath,-- "Is he--" Mike wanted to say "dead," but the word would not come. "Yes," said Vince, in the same low tone; "he's shamming. Go back and keep guard." "No, no--you," said Mike; "I'll steer." Vince nodded, and seated himself on the thwart over the prisoner, with the heavy piece of wood close at hand. The boat bounded on, and he glanced at the distant vessels, wondering whether the cutter would capture the schooner and the lugger get safely to port. He thought, too, a good deal about the man in the bottom of the boat, and felt more and more sure that he was right in his ideas; for every now and then there was a twitching of the muscles about the corners of his eyes, which at last opened in a natural way, and looked piteously in the boy's face. "How far are we from the shore?" he said. "'Bout a mile," said Vince coolly. "Why, Mike Ladelle thought you were dead?" "So I am nearly," groaned Daygo. "Oh, my head, my head!" "Yes, you did get a pretty good crack," said Vince; "and you'll get another if you don't lie still." "But you've tied me so tight, Master Vince: line's a-cutting into my wristies." "Of course it is," said Vince coolly. "I tied it as tightly as I could. You ought to be pretty well satisfied that we didn't leave you to drown." "Ah!" groaned Daygo, "don't say that, Master Vince. I've been a good friend to you and him." "Yes, and we're going to be good friends to you, Joe. You're such a wicked old rascal that it will do you good to be sent to prison." "No, no; don't do that, my lad. Mebbe they'd hang me." "What, for a pirate and smuggler? Well, perhaps they will," said Vince coolly. "But you wouldn't like that, my lad. Untie me, and let me set you ashore, and then I'll sail away and never come near the Crag again." "Well, but you won't come near the Crag again if I take you ashore. Sir Francis will have you put in prison, of course. Won't he, Mike?" "There's no doubt about that," replied Mike. Daygo groaned. "Oh, Master Vince--don't, don't!" he cried. "I'm an old man now, and it would be so horrible." "So it was for our poor people at home; and I know you've been pretending you hadn't seen us." "Ay, I've been a bad 'un--'orrid bad 'un, sir, but I'm a-repenting now, and going to lead a new life." "In prison, Joe." "No, no, no, sir," yelled the miserable wretch. "It 'd kill me. Do be a good gen'leman, and forgive me as you ought to, bad as I've been. You untie me and let me run you ashore, and then I raally will sail away." "What do you say, Mike?" "Well, I think we might trust him now. He has been pretty well punished." "Then you'd trust him?" said Vince. Mike nodded. "Then I wouldn't. He'd jump up, strong as ever, and pitch us overboard, or take us over to France, or do something. I'm not going to untie a knot." "Oh, Master Vince," groaned the old fellow; "and after all the fish I've give you, and the things I've done!" "Including trying to drown me," said Vince. "Oh, Master Mike, you have got a 'art in yer," groaned Daygo. "You try an' persuade him, sir. Don't take me ashore and give me up." "Look, Mike," said Vince excitedly, as a white puff of smoke suddenly appeared from the bows of the cutter, followed shortly by another, showing that they had got within range of the schooner, and the firing was kept up steadily as the boat sailed on, fast nearing the shore now, where the cliff was dotted with the people attracted by the engagement. But the firing did not interest Daygo, who kept on pleading and protesting and begging to be forgiven to one who seemed to have thoroughly hardened his heart. Then the old man made an effort to wriggle himself into a sitting position, but a light tap with the conger bat sent him down. "Don't you move again," said Vince sternly; "and don't you say another word, or you'll make your case worse than ever." Daygo groaned, and Vince watched the shore, which they were fast nearing. Then, springing up, he began to wave his hands frantically. "Look, Mike! that's my father. Yes; and yours. Ah! they see us, and they're waving their hats. Ahoy! Ashore there! Hurrah! we're all right, father." Mike sprang up too, forgetting his steering; and the boat would have begun to alter her course, but Vince seized the oar and set her right. "Now then, jump up," he cried, "and show yourself. They see us. Father's coming nearer down. Mike, we shall be ashore in five minutes." "Oh--oh--oh!" groaned Daygo. "Marcy, young gents, marcy! I know they'll hang me." Vince turned upon him fiercely, and took out his long Spanish knife, which he opened and whetted upon the gunwale, while the old man's eyes opened so that he showed a ring around the iris. "What are you going to do, Cinder?" cried Mike, catching him by the arm. "I'll show you directly," said Vince firmly. Just then the Doctor and Sir Francis began shouting to the boys; and the people near, among whom were Jemmy Carnach and the Lobster, took off and waved their caps, and cheered. "Look here, Ladle," whispered Vince: "will you do as I tell you--I mean, do as I do?" "Yes; anything." "I'm soaked. Do you mind being the same?" "Not a bit," cried Mike excitedly. "Right, then: follow me. It's only fifty or sixty yards now to the tunnel, and we can wade through. Starboard a little more. That's it." He pressed the oar his companion held, and the boat glided behind the towering rock, hiding the group on shore from their sight; and now Vince bent forward over their prisoner. "In with the oar, Mike," he said loudly, "and do as I do." He bent over the old fisherman, whose eyes, were nearly starting out of his head with horror, and with one clean thrust beneath the cord, divided it and set Daygo's wrists free, and then did the same by his ankles. Then Vince started up. "There," he cried; "there's our revenge on you, you old ruffian! You've got your boat: sail away, and never let us see you at the Crag again. Now, Mike, over!" He set the example; and, as the old man sat up, the two boys dived into the deep clear water together, rose and swam for the tunnel, into which they passed, and were soon able to wade on towards the little dock. A minute later each was clasped in his father's arms. Wet as he was? Well, it was only sea water. Need I write about what took place at the Doctor's cottage and at the old manor? I think not. There is surely no boy who reads this and thinks of his mother's tears who cannot imagine the scene far more vividly than I can describe it. For the long mourned ones had returned, as if by a miracle, and all was happiness once more. That night it was announced that the cutter had gone east, with the schooner close astern; and three days later she was off the Crag, Vince and Mike being ready to meet the lieutenant when he landed and to act as guides. The officer of the cutter was for making them show the way into the caverns by sea; but on hearing more he had his men furnished with all the picks and bars that could be provided, and then, with an ample supply of lanthorns, the entrance to the dark passage was sought, Sir Francis and the Doctor being quite as eager to see the place as the sailors. Half-way through it was found to be blocked; but a pound of powder well placed and provided with a slow match was left to explode, and as soon as the foul air had cleared away the place was found practicable, and the party descended to find enough cargo left to well lade the cutter. But the men did not hurry themselves, nor the officers neither; for they found the hospitality at the Mount or at the Doctor's very agreeable. At last, though, the cutter sailed, but not before an attempt had been made to enter the smugglers' dock; only it was given up as being too risky for His Majesty's Revenue cutter. Previous to going, the lieutenant, who had become a great friend of the boys, said a few words which afterwards bore fruit. They were these:-- "I say, my lads, why don't you two chaps go to sea? You'd make splendid middies." They did; but it was not till a year after the announcement which came to the Crag that the two boys' names were down as sharers in the prize money distributed to the officers and men of the cutter. "And it does seem rum, Ladle," said Vince, as they lay on the thyme-scented grass, looking out to sea, and occasionally letting their eyes wander towards the great bluff which hid away the Scraw. "What seems rum?" said Mike wonderingly. "That we should get a share in poor old Jacques' treasures after all. I wonder what has become of him." They heard at last that, by the help of one of his men, who had acted as cook on board the lugger, he had escaped to France; and two years later, when they were growing men, they caught sight of old Daygo in Plymouth town, but the old man managed to avoid them, and, for reasons which the reader can easily understand, neither of the young men felt disposed to hunt him out and ask how he came there. Had they done so, they would have found that Joe Daygo had been saving money for many years, and he was living outside the port, where he could see the sea, as "a retired gentleman." These are his own words. And the caverns down by the Scraw? Sixty years' workings of time and tide have made strange alterations there. Huge masses have fallen in, rocks have been washed away, and pleasant slopes have taken the place of precipice and dangerous rift; but the sea gulls wheel round the rugged cliffs and rear their young in safety, and upon sunny days, when the fierce currents are running strong, the dark olive-green birds may be seen swimming and diving to bring up their silvery prey to gorge, and afterwards fly off to dry their plumage on shelves and slopes of their home--dangerous surf-girt Cormorant Crag.
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