Home > Authors Index > George Manville Fenn > In the King's Name: The Cruise of the "Kestrel" > This page
In the King's Name: The Cruise of the "Kestrel", a fiction by George Manville Fenn |
||
Chapter 30. Hilary Tries Again |
||
| < Previous |
Table of content |
Next > |
|
________________________________________________
_ CHAPTER THIRTY. HILARY TRIES AGAIN
"No," he said to himself, "if I go there I shall be tempted into giving my parole or joining the Pretender's party. Sir Henry seems to think he can win me over; so let us see." He began to walk up and down his prison. Then it struck him that his clothes had pretty well grown dry again, and he went over in his mind the incidents of the day and the past night, thoughts which were interrupted by the coming of Allstone, who bore some bread and meat, and a mug of beer, while a man behind him dragged in a table and chair, and afterwards carried in a straw mattress and a pillow, Allstone looking grimly on. The man went out, but Allstone still waited, and at last the man came back with a bundle of sheets and blankets, which he threw upon the bed. "There," said Allstone, "that will do;" and seeing the man out, he darted a surly look at Hilary, and then followed and banged the door. "Thank you," said Hilary, laughing. "Perhaps a ladder would have been a little more convenient; but what donkeys people are--give a sailor sheets and blankets, and shut him up in a garret, and think he won't escape! Ha! ha! ha!" The sight of the food changed the current of Hilary's thoughts, and sitting down he made a very hearty meal, felt that his clothes had grown thoroughly dry, and then did what was not surprising under the circumstances, began to nod, and then went off fast asleep. Before an hour had passed he awoke; but he was so drowsy that he threw himself upon the mattress, and falling asleep directly he did not awaken till early the next morning. No escape that day, and as he had to make up his mind to this, he waited until Allstone came with a rough breakfast, when he made a peremptory demand for some means of washing and making himself more presentable. "My orders be to bring you something to sleep on and your meals, that's all," growled the fellow. "I had no orders about washing tackle." "Get out, you surly ill-conditioned ruffian," cried Hilary; and the fellow grinned. "Here's something for you," he said, contemptuously jerking a letter on to the floor, which Hilary picked up. "Look here, Master Allstone," he cried, shaking a finger at him; "one of these days I shall come here with a dozen or two of our brave boys, and if I don't have you flogged till you beg my pardon for all this, my name is not Hilary Leigh." "Bah!" ejaculated the man; and he went away making as much noise as he could with the lock and bar so as to annoy his prisoner, but without success, for that individual was reading the letter he had received. It was as follows:--
"Hil! Hil!" came from below. "Ahoy!" he answered. "Well, little lady?" and he leaned out. "Isn't it a beautiful morning, Hil," said Adela, looking up. "Lovely." "Why don't you come down and have a run with me in the woods?" "For one reason, because I am locked up," said Hilary. "For another, because I have not made my hands and face acquainted with soap and water since I was aboard the cutter; my hair is full of bits of straw and dead leaves, and my clothes are soaked and shrunken, and muddied and torn. Altogether, I am not fit to be seen." "Well, but Hil, dear, why don't you wash yourself?" "Because your esteemed friends here do not allow me soap, water, and towel. I say, Addy, if I lower down a piece of string, will you send me a jug of water?" "Same as I did the milk? Oh, of course!" said the girl laughing. "All right," said Hilary; "get it, please." He took out his knife, and without hesitation nicked and tore off the hem of one of his sheets, knotted two lengths together, lowered them down, and in turn drew up wash-hand jug, soap, brush and comb, and afterwards a basin, by having it tied up in a towel, and attaching the string to the knots. Adela seemed to enjoy it all as fun, but she turned serious directly after as she told her old companion how grateful she felt to him for his bravery on the previous day, remarks which made Hilary feel uncomfortable and go away from the window with the excuse that he wanted to attend to his toilet. For the next quarter of an hour Hilary was revelling in a good wash, with all the enjoyment of one who has been shut off from the use of soap and towel, with the result that after he had finished off with a brush, he felt more himself, and ready to stare his position more comfortably in the face. He went to the window in spite of his resolutions not to be tempted, and looked down; but Adela had gone, so he had a good look round at the country. Here he was facing due south, and before him, stretched in the bright sunshine, wave after wave as it were of hilly land, pretty well clothed with forest-trees. In the far distance there was a range of hills with a church and a windmill, both of which he recognised as having seen from the other side when upon the deck of the cutter, and this gave him a good idea of where he was, and how to shape his course when he made his escape. That word set him thinking, and without more ado he proceeded to cut up the sheets, knot together some of the strips, and then to lay them up, sailor fashion, into a serviceable linen rope, for the sheets were coarse and strong. This he did with his ears attent to the coming of footsteps, and a place ready in the bed to throw his work and cover it over should Allstone or Sir Henry be at hand. But he need not have troubled, for he completed about forty feet of good strong line from the pair of sheets, and coiled it up after securing the ends ready for use. His escape now was simplicity itself he thought, and his toil ended and the shreds carefully swept up and blown from the window, he seated himself upon the sill, and enjoyed the warmth of the afternoon sunshine, planning out how he would slip down after securing one end of his cord to the window-frame. Sir Henry would, he felt sure, provide for the safety of Adela and himself as soon as he found that the prisoner had escaped, for he felt that he could not bring peril upon them. There was no cause for fear, though, and he sat thinking of how grand it would be if he could escape the moment it was dark and get down to the shore and find the _Kestrel_. That seemed hopeless, though, and too much to expect; for it was not likely that the cutter would be still cruising about and waiting for him. If she was, though, he knew how he could bring a boat's crew well-armed ashore, and that was by making a signal with a light in a particular way. The sun was getting lower, and everything round the old place was still, nothing but a couple of fowls that were pecking about in what had once been a large garden between the old house and the moat, being visible. It had once been a goodly residence, no doubt, but all now was ruin and desolation, except that the warm sunshine made even the neglect and weeds look picturesque. There were massive gables to right and left, and the old tiles were orange and grey with a thick coating of lichen. Just between his window and that of Adela there were the mouldering remains of a carved shield, with surmounting helmet and crest, and a decayed motto below, while to right and left the ivy had covered the front with its dark-green glossy leaves, among which the cable-like runners could be seen. Anywhere, almost, along the front of the venerable place he could have climbed down by the help of the ivy; in his neighbourhood, however, it had been cleared away. He wondered sometimes how it was that he had heard no more of Adela, and that everything about the place should be so still, and concluded that Sir Henry had forbidden her to hold counsel with him, and in this belief he sat on waiting until the sun went down in a flood of orange glory. Just then he heard Allstone's heavy step upon the stairs, and coming away from the window Hilary threw himself upon his bed over the hidden rope. But he need not have feared that it would be seen, for Allstone simply placed some food upon the table and went away directly after, locking the door. The repast though rough and plain was substantial, and very welcome. Hilary felt somewhat agitated at the attempt he was about to make; but he knew that he needed fortifying with food, and he ate heartily, placing the remains of his meal in his pockets as a reserve for by-and-by. As the sun went down the moon began to make its presence known; but it was early in its first quarter, and in the course of a couple of hours it too had set, leaving the sky to the stars, which twinkled brightly, doing little, though, to dispel the darkness. In fact, by about nine, as he guessed it to be, the night was as suitable as possible for such an enterprise as his, and after listening to some distant sounds of talking in the back of the house, Hilary proceeded with beating heart to take out and unroll his light coil of rope. By means of a little management he took one of the leaded panes from the bottom of the casement so as to allow the rope to be securely tied round the stout oak centrepiece of the window, and then, after watching attentively for a few minutes, he lowered down the other end until the full extent was reached, and as nearly as he could judge it touched the ground. Even if it did not, there was nothing to fear, for at the utmost he would have had but a few feet to drop, and after a few moments' hesitancy he passed one leg out of the window, took a good grip of the rope, climbed right out, twisted his legs round in turn, and directly after, while swinging gently, he let himself down foot by foot. It was nothing to him. His sailor life made a descent by a rope one of the merest trifles. Down lower and lower, past Adela's window, and then coming into sight of a broad casement where a light was burning. The upper floors of the old building projected beyond the lower, so that he had not been aware of this lighted room, and as he hung there turning slowly round and round he could plainly see Sir Henry in a comfortably-furnished place, seated at a table writing, while Adela was gazing up into his face as she sat upon a low stool at his feet. For a few moments Hilary hung there motionless, feeling that if Sir Henry raised his eyes, as he was sure to do at the slightest sound, he could not help seeing him gently spinning round and round. Recovering himself though, directly, he let himself slide, and reached the ground, but made so much noise that he heard Sir Henry speak, and he had hardly time to dart aside, drawing with him the white rope, and crouch down close to the house, before the window was opened, and he knew that some one was looking out. "No, papa," said a well-known voice, "I can see nothing." "Look again," said Sir Henry. "Stop; I'll come." There was the noise of a moving chair, and then Hilary felt that Sir Henry was looking out of the window, and wondered whether he was seen. He hardly dared to breathe, and it seemed like an hour before he heard a sigh, and Sir Henry said, softly-- "What a lovely night, my child!" Then there was the sound of the casement being closed, steps faintly heard across the room, and, gliding from his place of concealment, Hilary made for the bridge, crossed it, and then darted amongst the bushes beside the narrow lane, for there was a buzz of voices behind him, and from the other side of the house he could see the light of a lantern, and then came the tramp of a horse and the sound of wheels. _ |
||