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Devon Boys: A Tale of the North Shore, a fiction by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 40. After The Fight |
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_ CHAPTER FORTY. AFTER THE FIGHT "Let's get breath first," said my father. "Sit down, my lads, anywhere. How many are we? Only six all told? Who's hurt?" "Oh, I'm all right, captain," said the foreman; "only a bit of a cut." "Only a bit of a cut!" said my father. "Here, hold your arm." My father drew out a bandage from his pocket, and tied up the foreman's arm, and he had no sooner done this than another man offered himself to be bandaged. Just then a couple of shots were fired in our direction, and we heard the bullets strike the rocks not far away; but while our enemies were below, and in the full glare of the burning cottages, we were above them, and in the darkness of the shadows cast by the rocks. So the shots were allowed to go unheeded, while the bandaging went on, every one having some injury which was borne without a murmur. "Are you hurt, Sep?" said my father then, anxiously, after he had attended to his men. "I don't think I'm cut anywhere," I said; "but my left arm hurts a good deal, and I can't breathe as I should like to." "Breathe?" he said eagerly. "Yes; it hurts my side here and catches." "Humph!" he said. "Can you tie this round my shoulder?" "Why, father," I said, "are you wounded too?" "A scratch, my boy; but it bleeds a good deal." He tore open his coat and tried to take it off, but could not, and we had to help him, and then roughly bandage his shoulder, where he had received a horrible cut. I trembled as I helped, and forgot my own pains. He noticed my trembling and laughed. "Bah, Sep!" he said; "this is nothing. I'm afraid some of our poor fellows there are worse. Ah, who's that? Be ready, men; we must retreat, we are not in fighting trim." For we could see a dark figure coming up after us, and it seemed to be an enemy; but directly after half a volley was fired at the figure, and we saw it drop and roll over. "Down!" said my father with a groan. "Oh, if we were only fresh and strong! But they are six to one, my lads, and it would be madness." "Look, father!" I cried pointing; "they are going back." That was plain enough, and that they were going rapidly in answer to shouts of recall. So, encouraged by this, we were about to run down and help the man who had been shot, when by the glow of the fire we saw him rise up on his knees, and directly after there were a couple of flashes and reports, as he fired his pistols after the retreating foe, and then began to crawl up towards where we were. "Why, it's Bigley, father," I said excitedly. "Ahoy!" "Ahoy!" came back; and I saw my school-fellow get up and begin limping towards us as fast as he could come. I ran to meet him, but stopped before I had gone many yards, for the painful sensation in my side checked me, and I was glad to hold my hand pressed upon the place, and wait till he came up. "Oh, I am glad!" he cried, catching my hand. "I thought--no, I won't say what I thought." "But you are hurt," I said. "Is it your leg?" "Yes, I feel just as if I was a gull, Sep, and someone had shot me." "And you are shot?" "Yes, but only in the leg. Is the captain up there?" "Yes," I said, "and three or four of the men. I say, Big, what a terrible night!" "Yes," he replied, in a curious tone of voice; "but, I'm glad it's the French, and that no one else has done it." My father had come down to where we were seated, and made us follow him to the shelter of the rocks. "They may catch sight of you, my lads," he said, "and turn you into marks." "Are you going to stop them now, captain?" said Bigley, following. "What are you going to do?" "I'm ready to do anything, my lad," said my father sadly; "but what can half a dozen injured men, whose wounds are getting stiff, do against half a hundred sound?" Bigley sighed. "Couldn't we sit up here in the rocks and pick them all off with the carbines, sir?" he said suddenly. "Yes, my lad, perhaps we could shoot down a few if we had the carbines, which we have not. No: we can do nothing but sit down and wait till we get well, comforting ourselves with the thought that we have done our best." We were watching the French sailors now, not a man showing the slightest inclination to retreat farther, but standing like beaten dogs growling and ready to rush at their assailants if they could get the chance. Swords had been sheathed, but only while pistols were recharged; and then, as soon as these weapons were placed ready in belts, the cutlasses were drawn again; and just as they had obeyed the order to retreat, the men would have followed my father back, wounded as they were, to another attack. Down below the Frenchmen were as busy as bees. We could hear the crackle and snap of wood as they seemed to be tearing it out of the counting-house; and then it was evident what they had been doing, for a torch danced here and there, and stopped in one place and seemed to double in size, to quadruple, and at last there was a leaping flame running up and a pile of wood began to blaze. "There go years of labour!" said my father, speaking unconsciously so that the men could hear. "One night to ruin everything!" "Nay, captain, such of us as is left 'll soon build un up again," said the foreman. "Women and children's safe, and there's stuff enough in the hillside to pay for all they've done." "Ah! So there is, my brave fellow," said my father warmly. "You are teaching me philosophy." "Am I, captain?" said the man innocently. "Think they'll find the silver?" "I'm watching to see," said my father; "I don't know yet. Five minutes will show. I fear they know where to look." Bigley was leaning on my shoulder at this time, and he gave me quite a pinch as his hand closed, but he did not speak; and there was no need, for I understood his thoughts, poor fellow! And what he must be feeling. As the fires at the cottages were beginning to sink, the one the Frenchmen had lit by the counting-house blazed up more brightly. They kept feeding it with furniture, joists, and broken planks, about a dozen men running to and fro tearing out the broken wood-work and clearing the interior till we could see that everything had been swept away; and then there was a buzz of excitement by the ruined building while the hammer and clangour of crowbars could be heard, followed by the tearing up of more boards; and I knew as well as if I could see that the trap-door leading to the cellar was being demolished. "They know where the silver be, captain," said our foreman; and once more Bigley started and I felt him spasmodically grip my shoulder. "Yes," said my father between his teeth; "they know where the silver is. A planned thing, my man--a planned thing." "None o' us had anything to do with it, captain, I swear," cried the foreman excitedly. "There wasn't a lad here as would have put 'em up to where it was hid." "Hush, man! What are you saying?" cried my father. "As if it were likely that I should suspect any of the brave fellows who have been ready to give their lives in the defence of my works." "But can't we get the rest together, captain, and stop 'em, or cut 'em off, or sink their boats, or something?" "No, my lad, I'm afraid we can do nothing more than see them--Ah! They have found it!" said my father as a loud shout of triumph rang out from below. "Well, as you say, there's plenty more in the hillside, and we must set to work again, I suppose, and take warning by this and never keep a store here." It was all plain enough. The silver was found, and the little boxes in which the ingots were packed in saw-dust were carried out and stood down by the blazing fire--twenty of them; and just as this was done there was the thud of a cannon away off the mouth of the Gap. "Signal for recall," said my father. It was quickly obeyed, for the French formed up round twenty of their party who shouldered the boxes. Four men with drawn swords went first, as if they were making a showy procession in the blaze of the burning fire; then came the twenty men carrying silver, then six more with drawn swords; then a group of about ten who seemed to be wounded, and four more who were being carried; and lastly some twenty or thirty, with swords flashing in the firelight, to form a rearguard. "_En avant_!" rang out clearly in the night air, and away they went chattering and making plenty of noise, just as a second gun was fired and seemed to make the air throb as the report echoed up the valley. "Why, there must be nigh a hundred on 'em. We may have a shot at 'em now, captain, mayn't us?" cried the foreman. "What for, my man?" said my father kindly. "If we could save the silver I would say yes, but it would be only spilling blood unnecessarily. We made a brave defence and were beaten. We could not master them now, even if we could fire volleys every five minutes. It would only mean a fierce fight, and we should be hunted down one by one for nothing. No: they have won. Let them go now, but I should like to see them embark. A good-sized French man-of-war must be off the Gap." "Come on, then, captain, and let's get over the mouth." "No," said my father. "You go with my son and one of the men, but I forbid firing. See all you can. I must stay and look after our poor fellows here, unless they've taken them away as prisoners." "Ah! I forgot them," said our man. "Come along, Master Sep. Let's go down here and cross, and get on the cliff path." "Will you go, Big?" I said. "No, I couldn't walk," he replied. "I can hardly get down here." "I'll look after him," said my father. "Go on, but take care not to be caught." "We'll mind that, captain," was the reply; and we descended as rapidly as pain would let us, reached the stream, crossed the path the Frenchmen had taken, and went on diagonally up the slope, getting higher above the enemy at every step, and talking together in a low tone about the fight, and how the poor fellows were whom we had missed. "I hope and pray," said our foreman, "as no one ar'n't killed; and, my lor', how my arm do hurt!" "So do I. Poor fellows!" I said, "how well they all fought!" "Ay, they did. But the captain, Master Sep, he was like a lion all the time. Why, lad, what's the matter?" "I--I don't want to make too much fuss," I panted; "but I'm broken somewhere, and it hurts horribly." "Sit you down, lad, and wait till we come back," said the foreman kindly. "No," I said, grinding my teeth, "I won't give up;" and I trudged on, knowing as well as could be that one or two of my ribs were broken when I was crushed against the wall, just before it gave way. And all the time below us to the left wound the line of Frenchmen. It was so dark that we could not have told that they were there, but for the low babel of sounds that arose of voices and trampling feet, while now and then a sound more painful to us still came up in the form of a groan or a faint cry of pain, and after one of these outbursts the foreman said: "I wonder whether that be one of our lads." "Nay, not it," said our companion roughly; "it be a Frenchy. One of our lads wouldn't make a noise like that if you cut his head off." I felt sure he was right, and I could not help smiling, but I was in too much pain to speak. And so we trudged on, our paths diverging in a way that took us higher and higher towards where the track curved round the cliff at the east side of the Gap, while theirs, of course, kept down by the stream to the beach. It was a weary painful walk, for the excitement was now gone, and my companions' wounds were stiffening, and giving them as much pain as my chest did me; but no one murmured, and we kept on till we were at the mouth of the Gap, high up above where four boats were lying, while half a mile away we could see the lights and dimly make out the hull of a large vessel. In spite of our pain we had made most progress, and were waiting some minutes before the head of the column came up, and there, as we seated ourselves hundreds of feet above, we could watch the embarkation of the little force, and see in a dim way the boats run in, hear the plashing of feet in the shallow water, and then the sound of the boxes as they were laid in the bottom of one of the boats, this boat being then rowed out about a dozen yards to wait for the others. "Only wish it was a storm instead of a calm smooth time," said our foreman. "Everything seems for 'em. I can't see why the Ripplemouth people haven't been over to help us. They must have seen the fires." "No," I said, "I don't suppose they would. See how deep down in the valley the cottages are." It was quite dark where we were sitting, but there appeared to be a pale light on the sea which enabled us to make out all that was going on below; and we watched the boats fill, and one by one push off, the wounded men being divided between the four. It was plain enough, and it made me shudder when some poor fellow was lifted moaning in by his comrades, who did not seem to be any too tender in their ways. At last all were on board, and the word was given to start. There was a loud plashing as the oars dropped into the water, and we saw one boat lead off, and then a second follow, then the third and the fourth in single file, and making haste to join the big vessel, upon which signal lights were burning. "Why, they don't know the way," I exclaimed, as I saw them bear off at once to the eastward instead of following right out the meandering channel of the little river. "Don't know the way?" cried our foreman; "why, it's plain enough. They're at sea." "They're over a lot of dangerous rocks," I said excitedly; "and if there don't happen to be water enough they'll come upon the Goat and Kids, and perhaps be upset." "No fear," said the foreman; "they'll know better than that." They were now about four hundred yards from the shore, and fading away into the darkness, heading for the lights of the French ship, and far to the east now of the course of the river, where it ran down through the sand and shingle--a course the lugger always followed when going out or coming in. But all seemed to be well with the boats, the regular beat of whose oars we could hear though they were quite out of sight, when all at once there came out of the darkness a tremendous yell, and we all started to our feet in alarm. We could see nothing, but as we listened to the cries for help, and the shouting and splashing of the water, it was evident that an accident had occurred, and it needed very little imagination to picture the men of an overset boat struggling in the water, and being helped into the others. "There's one of them capsized on the Goat Rock," I said excitedly. "Think so, my lad?" said our foreman hoarsely. "I'm sure of it," I cried. "Oh! If the day would break and we could only see." As if in response to my wish there was a faint gleam out in the darkness just like a pale star, and then a blue glow which lit up the scene with a curiously sickly glare. It made everything very plain, and by this light we could see that there were three crowded boats out in the blue circle of light, while we could just see the fourth beyond them upside down, the keel just above the water, and three men seated astride. "Regular capsize," said our foreman. "Hope none of the wounded chaps aren't drowned. Don't mind about the rest." The blue light burned out, but not before we had plainly seen that it was burning in the bows of the largest boat, and that the men on that capsized had been dragged into one of the others. Then, as we listened, the babble of voices ceased, the plash of oars recommenced, and gradually died away. "Well," I said, "we may as well go back and report what we have seen. They've gone now." "Yes," growled our foreman, holding his hand to his wound, "and they've left their marks behind." _ |
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