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In the King's Name: The Cruise of the "Kestrel", a fiction by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 27. Manhood Versus Selfishness... |
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_ CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN. MANHOOD VERSUS SELFISHNESS--AND MANHOOD WINS. Hilary breathed more freely as he silently let fall the latch, and then waited for a few minutes to recover his equanimity before making a farther trial. He had succeeded so far, and he felt that if he were patient and cautious he might regain his freedom; but he thought it better to let the men begin upon the spirits that two of the party had evidently been down to obtain. But as far as he could make out they did not seem to be in any hurry to awaken their companions, and at last after waiting for some minutes for the burst of conversation that he hoped would make his movements pass unheard, he began to feel his way cautiously about, expecting a door of exit to meet his hand, or else to find that he was in some large passage. To his great disappointment he found that he could touch the wall on either side after making a step; and a very little investigation showed him farther that he was only in a stone-paved place that had probably been a dairy, for on one side there was an iron grating of very massive bars let into the stone, and there were stone benches along one side. In fact, if the key of the door had been turned, he would have only exchanged one prison for another. His heart sank within him as he realised his position, and found that there was only one door, upon which he raised his hand ready to return into the great kitchen; but a low creaking noise, suggestive of some one treading on a board, arrested him, and he stood there listening. After a few minutes he grew more confident, and opening the door slightly he once more gazed upon the Rembrandtish scene, all light and shadow, with the men stretched about asleep, and two more seated upon a bench busily trickling spirit from the little keg into a small horn, from which they drank in turn with a sigh of satisfaction. The others slept on, one now and then making an uneasy movement; but it was evident that there were to be no more partners in the coming drinking bout, and Hilary began to calculate how long it would be before they would have drunk enough to make them sleepy and ready to join their companions upon the floor. He had no means of judging, but he concluded that it must now be nearly three o'clock, and in an hour's time it would be getting light. And yet, near as he was to safety, it seemed that he was to be disappointed, and to wait there till somebody or other came to the place and gave the alarm. By keeping the door just ajar he was able to watch the two men; but a couple of hours had passed before he saw them stretch themselves upon the floor, after carefully hiding away the little keg, and at last Hilary felt that he might venture to cross the great kitchen again and endeavour to find another outlet. The day had broken some time before, and the cold grey light that shone in through the iron grating showed him that he was correct in his surmises, and that the place had been a dairy; but the window was too strong for him to break through, and there was nothing for it but to cross the party of sleeping men. He was some little time before he could make up his mind to the effort, and when he did, and began to slowly open the door, he let it glide to once more, for one of the men suddenly uttered a loud yawn, jumped up and stretched himself, before giving a companion a kick in the side. It took several kicks to induce the man to get up; but when he did it was in a morose, angry disposition, and he revenged himself by going round and kicking every other man till the whole party was awake, and Hilary saw his chances fade away, while, to add to his misery, the next act of the party was to go to a great cupboard, from which a ham and a couple of loaves were produced, upon which they made a vigorous onslaught, each man opening his jack-knife and hewing off a lump of bread and cutting a great slice of ham. They ate so heartily that a feeling of hunger was excited in the prisoner's breast; but this soon passed off, and he sat there wondering how long it would be before one or other of the party would come into the old dairy, though, upon looking round, there seemed to be nothing to bring them there. Hour after hour glided by. The meal had long been ended, and the men were gone outside, but never all at once; always one stayed, sometimes two. Then Martin kept bustling in and giving orders. Once too Sir Harry came in and entered into a discussion with the skipper, apparently, from the few words that Hilary could catch, concerning the advisability of making some excursion; but there seemed to be some hindrance in the way, and Hilary's heart beat high with hope as he heard the word "cutter" spoken twice. It was not much to hear; but it was good news for Hilary, who concluded that the vessel must still be lying off the coast, and in the smugglers' way. At last, however, the conversation ended, and Hilary saw Sir Henry leave the place just as Allstone came in. This made the young man's heart beat again, for either the fellow had come to announce his evasion, or else he was about to take food into the old chapel, when, of course, he would find his prisoner gone. But no: he spoke quite calmly to the skipper, and after a short consultation they went out. Just then the noise of wheels and the trampling of horses could be heard outside, facts which pointed to the leaving of one or more of the party. Two of the men were still hanging about, but at last they also went, and Allstone came in and seated himself thoughtfully upon a bench. By-and-by, though, he cut himself some food, hesitated, and proceeded to cut some more, which he placed in a coarse delf plate. "My breakfast!" said Hilary to himself, and he wondered how soon the man would go to the chapel to present it to his prisoner. This would be the signal for Hilary's escape, and, anxiously waiting till the man had finished his own repast, the young officer made up his mind to run to the window, climb out, and then trust to his heels for his liberty. The time seemed as if it would never come, but at last the surly-looking fellow, having apparently satisfied his own hunger, rose up slowly, and, taking the plate, went slowly out of the door, rattling his keys the while. He had hardly disappeared before Hilary glided out of his hiding-place, darted to the table and seized the remains of the bread, hesitated as to whether he should take the ham bone, but leaving it, climbed on to the window-sill, forced the frame open, and dropped outside amongst the nettles that grew beneath. "Free!" he exclaimed. "Now which way?" He had not much choice in the first place, for he remembered that there would be the moat to cross, and the probabilities were that there would only be one path. After that he saw his way clearly, and that was towards the sun, for he knew that if he made straight for that point he would be going by midday direct for the sea. That was his goal. Once he could reach the cliffs and get down on the shore, he meant to seize the first boat he met with, get afloat, and trust to fortune for the rest. For the first few moments Hilary kept close to the house, but, considering that a bold effort was the only one likely to succeed, he walked out straight to the moat, hesitated a moment as to whether he should leap in and swim or wade across, and ended by walking sharply along its brink till it turned off at right angles, and he now saw a sandstone bridge facing the entry of a large, old-fashioned hall, that had evidently gone to ruin, and which, from the outside aspect, seemed to be uninhabited, for a more thorough aspect of desolation it was impossible to imagine. There was not a soul in view as he walked sharply away till he reached the crumbling bridge, which he crossed, and then, finding that the road led along by the far side of the moat, he did not pause to think, but, trusting to the high hedge by which it was bordered and the wilderness of trees that had sprung up between the road and the moat to conceal him, he went right on, his way being a little east of south. "I wonder whether old Allstone has given the alarm?" he said half aloud, as he placed the cutlass in his belt. "They'll have to run fast to catch me now. Hallo! what's that?" _That_ was a piercing scream, followed by loud cries of "Help! Papa-- help!" Hilary had made his escape, and he had nothing to do now but make straight for the sea; but that cry stopped him on the instant. It evidently came from the moat behind him, and sounded to him as if some one had fallen in; he thought as he ran, for without a moment's hesitation he forced his way through the old hedge, dashed in amongst the clumps of hawthorn and hornbeam scrub, making straight for the moat, where he saw a sight which caused him to increase his pace and make a running dash right to the water, where the next moment he was swimming towards where Adela Norland was struggling feebly for her life. Hilary saw how it was in a moment. The poor girl had apparently been tempted into trying to get at some of the yellow lilies and silvery water crowfoot which were growing abundantly in the centre of the wide moat, and to effect this she had entered a clumsy old boat that was evidently utilised for clearing out the weeds and growth from the stagnant water. That it was a boat was sufficient for her, and she had pushed out into the middle, not heeding that the craft was so rotten and fragile that just as she was out in one of the deepest parts it began to fill rapidly, and sank beneath her weight, leaving her struggling in the water. Hilary had some distance to swim, for here, in the front of the house, the moat was double the width of the part by his prison window, and to his horror he saw the beating hands subside beneath the water while he was many yards away. But he was a good swimmer, and redoubling his exertions he forced his way onward, as he saw Sir Henry, Allstone, and three more men come running out to the moat; but only one of them, Sir Henry himself, attempted to save the drowning girl's life. Long before Sir Henry could reach Adela, Hilary was at the spot where he had seen her go down, and, rising for a moment and making a dive, he went down, rose, dived again, and once again before he caught hold of the poor girl's dress, and then swam with her for the shore. The moat was deep right up to the grassy edge; and Hilary was in the act of placing Adela in the hands held down to catch her when a fresh cry for help assailed his ears, and, turning, it was to see that Sir Henry was a dozen yards away, swimming apparently, but making no progress. Hilary suspected the cause as he turned and swam to his old friend's help. For Sir Henry was heavily dressed, and, in addition, booted and spurred. The consequence had been that his heavy boots, with their appendages, were entangled in the long tough stems of the lilies, and his position was perilous in the extreme. For a moment Hilary wondered how he could help his old friend, and as he wondered the thought came. Swimming with one hand, he drew the cutlass from his belt, and telling Sir Henry to be cool, he swam up to him, thrust the cutlass down beneath the water, and after two or three attempts succeeded in dividing the tough stalks, ending by helping the nearly exhausted swimmer towards the shore. The men on the shore, and that little figure kneeling by them with clasped hands, seemed to be growing dim and indistinct, close as they were, and as if they were receding. His arms felt like lead, and he could hardly make his strokes, while somehow Sir Henry now embarrassed him by being so close that he could not take hold, as it were, of the water. But still he strove on, with the foam bubbling at his lips, then over his lips, then to his dim eyes; and then he felt something strike against his hand, and he clutched at a pole held out by Allstone, when Sir Henry and he were dragged out, to lie panting for the next minute or two upon the bank. "You're not dead, are you, Sir Henry?" said Allstone gruffly; and Hilary could not help, even then, feeling annoyed as he raised himself upon one elbow, but only to give place to other thoughts as he saw Adela kneeling there in speechless agony, holding her father's head in her lap. Poor girl! She was white as ashes, and her beautiful hair hung long and dishevelled about her shoulders; but just then she seemed to have no thought of self, her whole feeling being concentrated upon the pale, motionless face before her, from which the life seemed to have passed away. But after a time Sir Henry shuddered and opened his eyes, smiling affectionately in his child's face, and, as he realised their position, he said something to her in a low voice. They had all been so long occupied in watching for the recovery of Sir Henry that Hilary had had time to regain breath and some of his strength, and now the knowledge of his own position came back to him. He had escaped from the net, and voluntarily returned to it to save Adela. Her he had saved, and also her father. Now it was time to save himself, and, jumping up, he gave a hasty glance round. "No, you don't!" said a hoarse voice. "You're my prisoner." And Allstone seized him by his wet jacket. Hilary was weak yet with his struggle in the water, but the dread of being once more a prisoner gave him strength, and, striking up the arm, he made for the bridge to cross once more for liberty; but a couple of men coming from the other direction, having just heard the alarm, cut off his retreat, and, exhausted as he was, he did not hesitate for an instant, but plunged once more into the moat. _ |
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