Chapter 3. A Gunpowder Plot

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_ CHAPTER THREE. A GUNPOWDER PLOT

We three boys sat down at the edge of the steepest side of the crags after this to rest, and think what we should do next, and to help our plans we amused ourselves by pitching pieces of loose stone down as far as we could.

Then the rope was dragged over the Beacon rock and coiled up, while I tugged and wriggled the iron bar to and fro till I could get it free.

"Let's go down to the shore now, and see if we can find some crabs," I said. "The tide's getting very low."

"What's the good?" said Bob picking up the iron bar, and chipping this stone and loosening that. "I say, why don't some of those stones rock? They ought to."

He began to wander aimlessly about for a few minutes, and then, finding a piece that must have been about a hundredweight, he began to prise it about using the iron bar as a lever, and to such good effect that he soon had it close to the edge.

"Look here, lads," he cried, "here's a game! I'm going to send this rolling down."

We joined him directly, for there seemed to be a prospect of some amusement in seeing the heavy rugged mass go rolling down here, making a leap down the perpendicular parts there, and coming to an anchor somewhere many hundred feet below where we were perched.

For there was not even a sheep in sight, the side of the valley below us being a rugged mass of desolation, only redeemed by patches of whortleberry and purple heath with the taller growing heather.

"Over with it, Bob," cried Bigley; "shall I help?"

"No, no, you needn't help neither," said Bob. "I'm going to do it all myself scientifically, as Doctor Stacey calls it. This bar's a fulcrum."

"No, no," I said; "that isn't right."

"Ha, ha, ha!" laughed Bigley.

"Then what is it, please, Mr Clever? Doctor Stacey said bars were fulcrums, and you put the end under a big stone, and then put a little one down for a lever--just so, and then you pressed down the end of the bar--so, and then--"

"Oh! Look at it," cried Bigley.

For Bob had been suiting the action to the word, and before he realised what he was doing the effect of the lever was to lift the side of the big stone, so that it remained poised for a few moments and then fell over, gliding slowly for a few feet, and then gathering velocity it made a leap right into a heap of _debris_ which it scattered, and then another leap and another, followed by roll, rush, and rumble, till, always gathering velocity, amidst the rush and rattle of stones, it made one final bound of a couple of hundred feet at least, and fell far below us on a projecting mass of rock, to be shivered to atoms, while the sound came echoing up, and then seemed to run away down the valley and out to sea.

No one spoke for a few moments, for the feeling upon us was one of awe.

"I say, that was fine!" cried Bob at last. "Let's do another. You don't mind, do you, Sep?"

"N-no," I said, "I don't think it does any harm."

I spoke hesitatingly, as I could not help wondering what my father would have said had he been there.

"Come along," cried Bob, who was intensely excited now, "let's send a big one down."

His eagerness was contagious, and we followed him up a little along the edge of the steep cliff to find a bigger piece; but, though we could find plenty of small ones, which we sent bounding down by the help of the iron lever with more or less satisfactory results, the heavy masses all seemed to have portions so wedged or buried in the live rock that our puny efforts were without avail.

"I tell you what," said Bigley at last, "I know!"

"What do you know?" cried Bob with a sneer, for somehow, though he could easily have taken us one under each arm, Bigley used to be terribly pecked by both.

For answer Bigley pointed up at the ragged comb-like ridge above us.

"Well, what are you doing that for?" cried Bob.

"Let's send down the big boulder."

We looked up at the great stone which we had long ago dubbed the Boulder, because it was so much like one of the well-rolled pieces on the shore, and there it lay a hundred feet beyond us, looking as if a touch would send it thundering down.

"Hooray!" cried Bob. "Why, I say, Sep, he isn't half such a stupid as you said he was."

"I didn't say he was stupid," I cried indignantly.

"Oh, yes, you did!" said Bob with a grin; "but never mind now. Come on, lads. I say, it's steeper there, and as soon as it comes down it will make such a rush."

"Can't hurt anything, can it?" I said dubiously.

"Yes; it'll hurt you if you stand underneath," said Bob grinning. "Come along. What can it hurt? Why, it wouldn't even hurt a sheep if there was one there. My! Wouldn't he scuttle away if he heard it coming."

Bob was right, there was nothing to harm, and the displacement of a big stone in what was quite a wilderness of rough fragments would not even be noticed. So up we climbed, and in a few minutes were well on the ridge grouped on one side of the big boulder.

"Now, then," Bob cried; "you are strongest, old Big, and you shall help her. Look here; I'll get the bar under, and Sep and I will hoist. Then you put your shoulder under this corner and heave, and over she goes."

"Bravo, skipper!" I said, for he gave his orders so cleverly and concisely that the task seemed quite easy.

"Wait a moment," he cried. "I haven't got the bar quite right. That's it. My! Won't it go!"

"_Pah_! _Tah_! _Tah_! _Tah_!" rang out over our heads just like a mocking laugh, as a couple of jackdaws flew past, their dark shadows seeming to brush us softly as they swept by.

"Now, then, Big. Don't stand gaping after those old powder-pates. Now: are you ready?"

"Yes, I'm ready," cried Bigley.

"And you, Sep? Come and catch hold of the bar. Now, then, altogether. Heave up, Big. Down with it, Sep. Altogether. Hooray! And over she goes."

But over she did not go, for the great mass of stone did not budge an inch.

"Here, let's shift the bar, lads," cried Bob. "I haven't got it quite right."

He altered the position of the lever, thrusting in a piece of stone close under the rock so as to form a fulcrum, and then once more being quite ready he moistened his hands.

"Get your shoulder well under it, Big; shove down well, Sep, and we shall have such a roarer."

"Wait a moment," I said.

"What for?"

"Let's make sure there's nobody below."

"Oh! There's nobody," cried Bob; though he joined me in looking carefully down into the gorge; but there was nothing visible but a bird or two below, and a great hawk circling round and round high above us in the sunny air, as if watching to see what we were about.

"Oh! There's no one below, and not likely to be," cried Bob. "Now, then, my jolly sailor boys, heave ho. One--two--three, and over she goes."

No she didn't.

We pressed down at the lever, and Bigley heaved and grunted like an old pig grubbing up roots, but the grey mass of stone did not even move.

"Oh! You are a fellow, Big!" cried Bob, stopping to wipe his forehead. "You didn't half shove."

"That I did!" cried Bigley, rising up and straightening himself. "I heaved up till something went crack, and I don't know whether it's buttons, or stitches, or braces. Braces," he added, after feeling himself about. "Oh! Here's a bother, it's torn the buckle right off!"

"Never mind the buckle, lad. Let's send this stone over. I want to see it go; don't you, Sep?"

"Of course I do," I said. "Now, then, all together once more. Shove the bar in here, Bob."

"Oh, it's of no use to shove it there," he replied. "No; here's the place. Ah! Now we've got it."

"Shall I come there and help with the bar?" cried Bigley.

"No, you sha'n't come there and help with the bar," sneered Bob. "There ain't hardly room for us two to work, and you'd want a great bar half a mile long all to yourself. Only wish I was as strong as you, an' I'd just pop that stone over in half a minute."

"Would you?" said Big, staring at him sadly. "I can't."

"No, because you don't half try."

"Oh, don't I? Now you both heave again, and this time we'll do it."

"All right," cried Bob excitedly. "Now, then, all together, heave ho, my lads, heave ho! And this does it. One--two--three--and--"

"Oh, look at that!" cried Bigley, straightening himself again. "There now, did you ever see such a chap?" cried Bob, stamping with rage; "just as she was going over, and it only wanted about half a pound to do it, he leaves off."

"Well, how would you like your other brace buckle to get torn up by the roots?" said Bigley reproachfully.

"Brace buckles! Why, your brace buckles are always coming off," said Bob. "I wouldn't be such a great lumbering chap as you are for all Devonshire and part o' Wales."

"I can't help it," said Bigley sadly, as he tried to repair damages, and failing that, secured his clothing by tying his braces tightly round his waist. "I didn't want to grow so big all at once. Everybody laughs at me for it."

"Nobody minds your being big," cried Bob, "if you would only be useful. Your braces are always breaking."

"I'm very sorry, Bob, old chap."

"What's the good of being sorry now?" replied Bob. "You've spoiled all the fun. It's no use stopping if you chaps won't help."

"Why, we did help, Bob," I said, "and the stone didn't move a bit. It's too heavy."

"It did move, I tell you. If you want to quarrel you'd better say so, and I'll be off home. I don't want to fight."

"More do I, Bob," I replied; "but it didn't really move. Did it, Big?"

"If you say it didn't, Big, I'll give you a crack right in the eye," cried Bob fiercely, as he doubled his fist.

Bigley's mouth was opened to speak, but Bob was so energetic and fierce that it remained like a round O, and the great fellow looked so comical that I burst out into a fit of laughter which set Bob laughing too, and this made Big stare at us both in a puzzled way; but by degrees he caught the mood of the moment and laughed too, and the cloud that overhung our expedition drifted away.

"Well," said Bob at last in a disappointed tone, "I s'pose we may as well go down on the beach crabbing, for we can't move that stone."

"I know how we could move it," cried Bigley suddenly.

"Tchah! How?" I said.

"Same as my father moved the great rock out there in the cove. There was a big lump there that was always dangerous for the lugger when she was coming in."

"Well, what then?" said Bob contemptuously.

"Why," continued Big eagerly, "he waited till the spring tides and the water was terribly low, and then he put a lot of gunpowder in a hole under it and laid a train, and smeared a piece of rag with powder, and nicked the flint and steel till the rag caught fire, and then he ran away."

"Well?" I said.

"Well, then the rag sparked and spit fire till the train began to run, and then the train set light to the powder, and there was a big _bom boom_."

"A big what?" we both cried.

"A big _bom boom_," said Bigley.

"Why, you didn't say anything about a big _bom boom_ being there before," cried Bob. "I don't believe there is such a thing."

"Now, how you do go on!" cried Bigley. "You know what I mean--a big bang when the powder went off."

"Then why don't you call things by their right name?" said Bob. "A bang's a bang and nothing else."

"Well, the powder went bang and knocked the big rock right off the place where it stood."

"What! Up in the air?" I said.

"Up in the air? No; over into the deep water, where it sank to the bottom."

"Well, you don't suppose we're such old stupids as to think it floated, do you?" cried Bob.

"No, of course not, but that's what it did."

"I don't believe it," said Bob stubbornly.

"You don't believe it?" I said, while poor Bigley stood staring at the last speaker.

"No. If that had been true old Big would have been bouncing about it at school, and told us that story, as he always does everything he knows, nine hundred thousand times, till we were all tired of hearing it."

"But I'd forgotten all about it till just now," pleaded Bigley.

"Ah, well," said Bob, who was sitting on the big stone swinging his legs to and fro, "I don't believe it, and if I did, what then?"

"Why, I thought," said Bigley eagerly, "if we were to put some powder under that stone, and make a train, and strew some wet powder on a piece of rag--"

"And light it, and make it fizzle, and then run away," cried Bob, mimicking Bigley's speech.

"Yes," cried the latter eagerly, "it would topple it over right down into the glen."

"There's an old stupid for you," said Bob, looking at me. Then turning to Bigley he said sharply, "Why, I haven't got my pockets full of powder, have I?"

"N-no," stammered Bigley, who was taken aback by his fierce way.

"And powder don't grow in the furze pops, does it?"

"N-no," faltered Bigley; "but--"

"Here, Sep Duncan," cried Bob, "go and see if any of the rabbits have got any in their holes. There, get out! I shall go home. What's the good of fooling about here?"

"But father's got lots of gunpowder in the shed," cried Bigley.

"Eh?" said Bob starting.

"I could go and get a handful. He'd give it me if he was at home, and he wouldn't mind my fetching some."

"Wouldn't he?" cried Bob, whose sour looks changed to eagerness. "Hooray, then! Cut off and bring your handkerchief full, and we'll send the stone sky-high."

"All right," said Bigley eagerly.

"And bring a flint and steel."

"Yes: anything else?"

"No, that'll do."

"But, I say," I ventured to put in, "wouldn't it be dangerous?"

"Dangerous! Ha, ha, ha! Hark at him, Big. Here's Miss Duncan very much afraid that the powder might go off and pop him. Oh, here's a game!"

"I'm not afraid," I said; "only I shouldn't like to do anything dangerous."

"Well, who's going to, stupid?" said Bob importantly. "Think I don't know what powder is. There, cut off, Big, and see how soon you can get back. We'll make a hole for the charge, same as they do in the quarry, and have it ready by the time you come. Run." _

Read next: Chapter 4. The Explosion

Read previous: Chapter 2. Our Cliffs

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