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Nic Revel; A White Slave's Adventures in Alligator Land, a fiction by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 9. Ready For Action |
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_ CHAPTER NINE. READY FOR ACTION "That's about their size, Master Nic," said Solly, as he stood in the coach-house balancing a heavy cudgel in his hand--one of a couple of dozen lying on the top of the corn-bin just through the stable door. "Oh, the size doesn't matter, Bill," said Nic impatiently. "Begging your pardon, sir, it do," said the old sailor severely. "You don't want to kill nobody in a fight such as we're going to have, do ye?" "No, no; of course not." "There you are, then. Man's sure to hit as hard as he can when his monkey's up; and that stick's just as heavy as you can have 'em without breaking bones. That's the sort o' stick as'll knock a man silly and give him the headache for a week, and sarve him right. If it was half-a-hounce heavier it'd kill him." "How do you know?" said Nic sharply. "How do I know, sir?" said the man wonderingly. "Why, I weighed it." Nic would have asked for further explanations; but just then there were steps heard in the yard, and the gardener and a couple of labourers came up in the dusk. "Oh, there you are," growled Solly. "Here's your weepuns;" and he raised three of the cudgels. "You may hit as hard as you like with them. Seen any of the others?" "Yes," said the gardener; "there's two from the village coming along the road, and three of us taking the short cut over the home field. That's all I see." "Humph!" said Solly. "There ought to be five more by this time." "Sick on it, p'r'aps," grumbled the gardener; "and no wonder. We are." "What! Are you afraid?" cried Nic. "No, sir, I aren't afraid; on'y sick on it. I like a good fight, and so do these here when it's 'bout fair and ekal, but every time we has a go in t'other side seems to be the flails and we only the corn and straw. They're too many for us. I'm sick o' being thrashed, and so's these here; and that aren't being afraid." "Why, you aren't going to sneak out of it, are you?" growled Solly. "No, I aren't," said the gardener; "not till I've had a good go at that Pete Burge and Master Humpy Dee. But I'm going to sarcumwent 'em this time." "Here are the others coming, Bill," cried Nic.--"What are you going to do this time?" he said to the gardener. "Sarcumwent 'em, Master Nic," said the man, with a grin. "It's no use to hit at their heads and arms or to poke 'em in the carcass--they don't mind that; so we've been thinking of it out, and we three's going to hit 'em low down." "That's good," said Solly; "same as we used to sarve the black men out in Jay-may-kee. They've all got heads as hard as skittle-balls, but their shins are as tender as a dog's foot." Just then five more men came up and received their cudgels; and directly after three more came slouching up; and soon after another couple, and received their arms. "Is this all on us?" said one of the fresh-comers, as the sturdy fellows stood together. "Ay, is this all, Master Nic?" cried another. "Why?" he said sharply. "Because there aren't enough, sir," said the first man. "I got to hear on it down the village." "Ah! you heard news?" cried Nic. "Ay, sir, if you call such ugly stuff as that news. There's been a bit of a row among 'em, all along o' Pete Burge." "Quarrelling among themselves?" "That's right, sir; 'cause Pete Burge said he wouldn't have no more to do with it; and they've been at him--some on 'em from over yonder at the town. I hear say as there was a fight, and then Pete kep' on saying he would jyne 'em; and then there was another fight, and Pete Burge licked the second man, and then he says he wouldn't go. And then there was another fight, and Pete Burge licked Humpy Dee, and Humpy says Pete was a coward, and Pete knocked him flat on the back. 'I'll show you whether I'm a coward,' he says. 'I didn't mean to have no more to do wi' Squire Revel's zammon,' he says; 'but I will go to-night, for the last time, just to show you as I aren't a cowards,' he says, 'and then I'm done.'" "Ay; and he zays," cried another man from the village, "'If any one thinks I'm a coward, then let him come and tell me.'" "Then they are coming to-night?" cried Nic, who somehow felt a kind of satisfaction in his adversary's prowess. "Oh, ay," said the other man who had grumbled; "they're a-coming to-night. There's a big gang coming from the town, and I hear they're going to bring a cart for the zammon. There'll be a good thirty on 'em, Master Nic, zir; and I zay we aren't enough." "No," said Nic quietly; "we are not enough, but we are going to have our revenge to-night for all the knocking about we've had." "But we're not enough, Master Nic. We're ready to fight, all on us--eh, mates?" "Ay!" came in a deep growl. "But there aren't enough on us." "There will be," said Nic in an eager whisper, "for a strong party of Jack-tars from the king's ship that was lying off this evening are by this time marching up to help us, and we're going to give these scoundrels such a thrashing as will sicken them from ever meddling again with my father's fish." "Yah!" growled a voice out of the gloom. "Who said that?" cried Nic. "I did, Master Nic," said the gardener sharply; "and you can tell the Captain if you like. I say it aren't fair to try and humbug a lot o' men as is ready to fight for you. It's like saying 'rats' to a dog when there aren't none." "Is it?" cried Nic, laughing. "How can that be? You heard just now that there will be about thirty rats for our bulldogs to worry." "I meant t'other way on, sir," growled the man sulkily. "No sailor bulldogs to come and help us." "How dare you say that?" cried Nic angrily. "'Cause I've lived off and on about Plymouth all my life and close to the sea, and if I don't know a king's ship by this time I ought to. That's only a lubberly old merchantman. Why, her yards were all anyhow, with not half men enough to keep 'em square." "Bah!" cried Solly angrily. "Hold your mouth, you one-eyed old tater-grubber. What do you mean by giving the young master the lie?" "That will do, Solly," cried Nic. "He means right. Look here, my lads; that is a king's ship, the one commanded by my father's friend; and he has made her look all rough like that so as to cheat the salmon-gang, and it will have cheated them if it has cheated you." A cheer was bursting forth, but Nic checked it, and the gardener said huskily: "Master Nic, I beg your pardon. I oughtn't to ha' said such a word. It was the king's ship as humbugged me, and not you. Say, lads, we're going to have a night of it, eh?" A low buzz of satisfaction arose; and Nic hurried out, to walk in the direction of the signal-staff, where the Captain had gone to look out for their allies. "Who goes there?" came in the old officer's deep voice. "Only I, father." "Bah!" cried the Captain in a low, angry voice. "Give the word, sir--'Tails.'" "The word?--'Tails!'" said Nic, wonderingly. "Of course. I told you we must have a password, to tell friends from foes." "Not a word, father." "What, sir? Humph, no! I remember--I meant to give it to all at once. The word is 'Tails' and the countersign is 'Heads,' and any one who cannot give it is to have heads. Do you see?" "Oh yes, father, I see; but are the sailors coming?" "Can't hear anything of them, my boy, and it's too dark to see; but they must be here soon." "I hope they will be, father," said Nic. "Don't say you hope they will be, as if you felt that they weren't coming. They're sure to come, my boy. Jack Lawrence never broke faith. Now, look here; those scoundrels will be here by ten o'clock, some of them, for certain, and we must have our men in ambush first--our men, Nic. Jack Lawrence's lads I shall place so as to cut off the enemy's retreat, ready to close in upon them and take them in the rear. Do you see?" "Yes, father; excellent." "Then I propose that as soon as we hear our reinforcement coming you go off and plant your men in the wood behind the fall. I shall lead the sailors right round you to the other side of the pool; place them; and then there must be perfect silence till the enemy has lit up his torches and got well to work. Then I shall give a shrill whistle on the French bo'sun's pipe I have in my pocket, you will advance your men and fall to, and we shall come upon them from the other side." "I see, father." "But look here, Nic--did you change your things?" "Yes, father; got on the old fishing and wading suit." "That's right, boy, for you've got your work cut out, and it may mean water as well as land." "Yes, I expect to be in a pretty pickle," said Nic, laughing, and beginning to feel excited now. "But do you think the sailors will find their way here in the dark?" "Of course," cried the Captain sharply. "Jack Lawrence will head them." "Hist!" whispered Nic, placing his hand to his ear and gazing seaward. "Hear 'em?" Nic was silent for a few moments. "Yes," he said. "I can hear their soft, easy tramp over the short grass. Listen." "Right," said the Captain, as from below them there came out of the darkness the regular _thrup_, _thrup_ of a body of men marching together. Then, loudly, "king's men?" "Captain Revel?" came back in reply. "Right. Captain Lawrence there?" "No, sir; he had a sudden summons from the port admiral, and is at Plymouth. He gave me my instructions, sir--Lieutenant Kershaw. I have thirty men here." "Bravo, my lad!" cried the Captain. "Forward, and follow me to the house. Your men will take a bit of refreshment before we get to work." "Forward," said the lieutenant in a low voice, and the _thrup_, _thrup_ of the footsteps began again, not a man being visible in the gloom. "Off with you, Nic," whispered the Captain. "Get your men in hiding at once. This is going to be a grand night, my boy. Good luck to you; and I say, Nic, my boy--" "Yes, father." "No prisoners, but tell the men to hit hard." Nic went off at a run, and the lieutenant directly after joined the Captain, his men close at hand following behind. _ |
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