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Devon Boys: A Tale of the North Shore, a fiction by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 34. I Seem To Be An Enemy To An Old Friend |
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_ CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR. I SEEM TO BE AN ENEMY TO AN OLD FRIEND I don't know which of us lads gripped his companion's hand the harder as we saw the struggle begin. "They'll half kill him," groaned Bigley; and then he remained panting there with his eyes starting as we saw the men on the lugger, headed by old Jonas, make a brave defence of their deck, being armed with capstan-bars and cudgels, while the revenue cutter's men had cutlasses which flashed in the evening sunshine as if they had been made of gold. We could hear the sound of the blows, some sounding sharp, which we knew to be when the bars struck on the sides of the lugger; some dull, when they struck upon the men; while others made a peculiarly strange chopping noise, which was of course when sword encountered cudgel. "It's all over," groaned Bigley at last, as the sailors seemed for the moment to have mastered the lugger; but just then I saw old Jonas tumble one man over the side into the boat, and another over the bulwark into the water with a great splash, and all the while the sails of the lugger were full, and the little vessel was beginning to move faster and faster through the water. One of the men in the gig was still holding on by the bulwark as the struggle went on, but I suddenly saw old Jonas bring down a cudgel smartly upon his head, the blow sounding like a sharp rap, when the man fell back, and my father caught and saved him from going overboard. The next moment there seemed to be a gap between the lugger and the gig, and we could see the heads of three men in the water swimming, and the next minute or two were occupied in dragging them in, two being sailors, and the other the lieutenant, who stood up in the stern-sheets and shook himself. "Heave to!" he roared after the lugger; "heave to, or we'll sink you!" "Ha, ha, ha, ha!" came in a mocking laugh, that from its hoarse harshness was evidently old Jonas's, and the lugger heeled over now and began to skim through the water. "Why, they're going to run for it," I cried excitedly. "But the cutter will sink them," panted Bigley. "Oh, father, father, why didn't you take me too?" "Never mind that, Big," I cried. "Look, they're going to row to the cutter." For the oars were dipping regularly now as the gig was turned towards the cutter, aboard which there was an evident change. Her main-sail, which had been shaking in the breeze, gradually filled; we saw the stay-sail run up, and the beautiful boat came gliding towards the gig so as to pick her up with her crew before going in pursuit. "How quickly she sails!" cried Bigley. "Once they've got their men on board they'll go like the wind." "But they haven't got them on board yet," I said, unable in spite of myself to help feeling a little sympathy for the man who was making such a bold effort to escape. "Why, they're taking my father prisoner instead of yours, Bigley. I hope they'll bring him back." "Look!" cried Bigley; "father's getting up a topsail, and that'll help them along wonderfully." "Look!" I cried; "the cutter's close up to the gig now." "Hurrah!" cried Bigley; "there goes the topsail. Look how tight they've hauled the sheets, and how the lugger heels over." "The cutter has the gig alongside," I cried as excitedly, for, though I did not want old Jonas caught, my father was there. "Why, they're running out another spar," cried Bigley, "so as to hoist more sail. Look at the lugger, how she is spinning along!" "Yes," I said; "but look at the cutter now!" Bigley drew a long breath as he saw with me that the gig's crew were on board the cutter, and that the boat was being hoisted up, while, at the same time, with the speed to be seen on a man-of-war, even if it be so insignificant a vessel as a revenue cutter, sail was being hoisted, and she was off full chase. First we saw the jib-sail run up and fill. Then up went the gaff topsail, and as it filled the cutter seemed to lie over, so that we could not see her deck, while the white water foamed away from her bows, and she left a long streak behind. She was now well opposite to the Gap, down which the breeze blew straight. In fact the cutter seemed to have too much sail up, and rushed through the water at a tremendous rate. "She'll soon catch the lugger going like that, Big," I said. "Look! Your father's not going straight away; he's going more off the land." "Yes, because he knows what he's doing. He wants to get more out so as to catch the wind. You'll see in a few minutes the cutter won't go half so fast. Hah! I was afraid of that." For just then there was a puff of smoke from the cutter, and we could just make out, by the way it dipped, the round shot that went ricochetting over the sea. "That will stop him," I said gloomily. "No, it will not," said Bigley angrily. "You don't know my father. He'll keep on as long as the lugger will swim." I shook my head as I strained my eyes at the exciting chase going on before me. Bigley was right, for in place of lowering sails in token of submission, the lugger ran out another from her bows, and kept on her rapid flight, altering her course though, so as not to offer so fair a mark to the cutter, and the cutter seemed to spit out viciously another puff of white smoke, and then there was a dull thud and an echo among the rocks. We could not trace the course of the shot, but it evidently did not hit its mark, the first having probably been aimed ahead. "They can't hit her," cried Bigley, clapping his hands. "Oh, I wish I was aboard." "What, to be shot at?" I said. "Let them shoot!" he cried. "I should like to be there. Now, then, what did I tell you? The cutter is not going half so fast now." He was quite right, for, as the white-sailed vessel got beyond the entrance to the Gap, she was more and more under the shelter of the huge headland and the mighty cliffs that ran on for miles, and instead of lying over so that we half expected to see her keel, she rode more steadily and upright in the water, and her speed was evidently far less. Another white puff of smoke, and another shot sent skipping after the lugger, but with what result we could not see. The firing made no difference, though, to the lugger, which continued its course towards the west, and Bigley gave me a triumphant look from time to time. The firing had now become regular, and had brought down all the miners from the pit, and Mother Bonnet, to see the exciting chase. One climbed up the side of the Gap here, another there, and then higher and higher, and seeing the advantageous position they occupied I turned quickly to Bigley. "Run and get the glass, Big," I said, "and then we'll climb right up to the top of the head." Big shook his head. "Father has it in the lugger," he said; "but let's climb up all the same." We knew the ways of the great headland better than the people, and were about to start upon our climb when Mother Bonnet came up and caught Bigley's arm. "Think they'll get away, Master Big?" she whispered with her face mottled with white blotches. "I'm sure of it," he cried triumphantly. "It will soon be dark, too, and father will run in and out among the rocks where the cutter daren't follow." "To be sure he will," said the old woman with a nod and a smile. "They will get away if--if--Oh! There goes that horrible gun again!" The poor creature turned white and hurried away from us to get a better view of the chase, while Bigley and I climbed right up by degrees to the very highest point of the headland and sat upon the rocks watching the long chase, with the cutter, in spite of her superior rig and sailing powers, seeming to get no nearer to her prey, while the evening shadows were descending, and the two vessels kept growing more distant from the Gap. The cutter continued firing at regular intervals, and once we thought that the lugger was hit. But if she was the shot made no difference to her attempts at escape; and though we stayed up there in our windy look-out, fully expecting to see her lying like a wounded bird upon the water with broken wing, no spar came down, and at last the fugitive and the pursuer had become specks in the distance, fading completely from our sight. "It's no use to stay any longer," I said. "Let's go down now." Bigley strained his eyes westward and seemed unwilling to stir. "It will be so dark directly we shall have a job to get down," I said. "Your father's sure to get away." "Yes," said Bigley; "they'll never catch him now. He'll get right away in the darkness." Just then there was a familiar hail from below. "Chowne, ahoy!" I responded; and as we reached to about half-way down we encountered Bob coming up panting and excited. "You are a nice couple!" he began to grumble. "I do call it mean." "What is mean?" I said. "Why, to have all the fun to yourselves and never send for a fellow. If it hadn't been for the firing I shouldn't have known anything about it. I wouldn't have been so shabby to you." "Why, I didn't think about you, Bob," I said. "That's just like you, Sep Duncan. But I say, what a game!" "I don't see much game in it," I said sadly. "Big's father is in the lugger, and mine--" "In the cutter trying to catch him," cried Bob. "Oh, I say, what a game!" "Look here!" said Bigley in a deep husky voice, "come down along with me, Sep, and take hold of my arm. I feel as if I wanted to fight." I did as he asked me and we went down, with Bob very silent coming behind, evidently feeling that he had said too much. Bigley went straight to the cottage, where Mother Bonnet was waiting for him and ready to catch him by the shoulder. "There now, my dear! It's of no use for you to hang away," said the old woman. "I've got a nice supper ready, and you must eat or else you won't be able to help your poor father if he should come back." "But he won't come back," said Bigley. "He will not dare." "I don't know what he may not do when it's quite dark," said the old woman. "There! You come and sit down, and you too, my dears, for you must be famished." Bigley yielded, and Bob and I were going away, but Bigley jumped up and stopped us. "I'm not bad friends, Bob," he said, holding out his hand. "You didn't mean what you said, only when a fellow speaks against my father it hurts me, and--" "I'm so sorry, Big," exclaimed Bob eagerly, and they shook hands. I was glad, but still I was going away. Bigley stopped me though. "I sha'n't eat if you don't," he said. "But I can't now after what has happened," I said. "It wasn't your fault," replied Bigley gloomily. "Your father was obliged to speak. Come and sit down." I was so faint and exhausted that I yielded, and we three lads made a tremendous meal, to Mother Bonnet's great delight. This ended, the inclination was upon us all to go fast asleep after the broken night we had passed; but Bigley jumped up and led the way to the door. "Come along," he said. "The cutter will be back soon to clear off the cargo, and I want to hear what they say." He walked out and we followed him to the beach, which was quite deserted; and we three lads began to walk up and down, too much excited to feel sleepy now, and kept on gazing out to sea for the returning cutter. _ |
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