WILDFIRE NED AND MASTER TIM FALL INTO A VERY SERIOUS TRAP—THE
INNKEEPER’S GREAT GENEROSITY—THE SECRET MINE—THE BULLET-PROOF
STRANGER—THE “HAUNTED HOUSE.”
The news of Wildfire Ned’s first exploit on sea was soon the talk of
the whole country.
So much mischief, and such dreadful depredations, had been committed
by Death-wing’s ruthless band, that it was considered impossible that
any crew, however well manned, could withstand them.
Wildfire Ned, however, had proved how silly this idea was, for during
his first battle on the water he had everywhere wished to meet
Death-wing, the grim chief, in mortal combat, but as often was he
disappointed.
However, the Phantom Ship, one of those which the Skeleton Crew
possessed, had quickly succumbed to Ned Warbeck’s prowess, and the
crew, at least for the present, scattered to the four winds of heaven.
Ned Warbeck and his faithful Tim would have continued to cruise
with the brave Lieutenant Garnet, but Ned was ordered to London to
report in person to the king and to the board of merchants regarding
Death-wing’s band.
As he heard also of Phillip Redgill’s villainy and of his brother
Charley’s disgrace and misfortune, this spurred him on all the more
to reach London quickly, so that he might inquire into the whole
affair himself.
He swore to be revenged on Phillip, and was burning with impatience
to reach his journey’s end, that he might disclose to Sir Richard
Warbeck all he had learned from Bob Bertram about the old farmer’s
murder.
Through sunshine and shower, therefore, Ned and Tim journeyed from
Walton Abbey, on two capital steeds which the grateful marquis and
the young lord had placed at their disposal.
Through the rain, sleet, and snow they journeyed, as fast as
horseflesh would carry them, and among other eccentricities, in
order to surprise and astonish the simple country folk, and in awful
dread of again being recognised by any stray member of the Skeleton
Crew or Sea Hawk’s smugglers, Master Tim blacked his face, and wore
semi-theatrical attire, much to Ned Warbeck’s amusement.
* * * * *
It had just struck eleven by the parish clock when the inmates of
an inn in a small town in the south of England were disturbed by a
sudden clattering of hoofs on the pavement, and presently after by a
loud knocking at the door.
“Who in the world can that be?” cried the sexton, aroused from a
comfortable nap, “the devil a bit would I open the door at this time
of night; for it must be the Old One himself, or Death-wing, chief
of the Skeleton Crew, to weather such a storm. Why, the rain falls
fast enough to drown a horse, and the wind would blow a millstone to
London. I say,” addressing himself to the landlord, “don’t you open
that door upon no account! We might——”
Here he was interrupted by another forcible appeal to the knocker,
which made the glasses and cans rattle on the table.
The sexton, rubbing his eyes, shook with fear, while the host hobbled
to the door as fast as his extreme corpulency would allow him.
“Who’s there?” cried he, with a voice which would not have disgraced
a sentinel giving the challenge.
“Who’s there, and what’s your business?”
“A shelter for the night,” was the answer from without.
“That’s impossible; all my beds are taken, and my house is full.”
“A corner in your hay-loft, or in the stable, will be enough. Open
the door, for goodness’ sake, and you shall be rewarded for your
trouble.”
At the word “reward” the landlord unfastened the bolts of the doors
and cast a keen glance on his nightly visitor.
“A wet night, this,” said he, opening the door wide.
“Ah, so it be, master,” answered a third person, whom the landlord
had not yet discovered.
“You are not alone, sir traveller, it seems,” said the landlord.
“It is only my servant,” replied the young gentleman, entering, and
shaking a broad-brimmed hat, dripping with wet.
At the same time he bade his servant lead the horse to an adjoining
shed, the landlord’s stable being fully occupied.
It was none other than Wildfire Ned and Tim, on their way to London.
He then unclasped his cloak, which he threw upon a bench.
He was dressed in the uniform of a lieutenant in the navy.
The sexton, relaxing from his former harshness, invited the young
officer to approach the fire, around which were seated five or six
persons, whose uninteresting appearance requires but a few words.
The most conspicuous amongst the group was the landlady, a short,
fat, buxom dame on the wrong side of forty, who might have been
considered considerably handsome but for a small pair of twinkling
eyes, disproportionate to the rest of her features.
At her right was seated the sexton.
A jolly, stout fellow, whose fiery face attested his devotedness to
old Plymouth rum or nut-brown ale.
Next came the blacksmith of the parish, whose black leathern apron,
spread over his knees, served as a screen for the landlady.
Not much could be seen of the others, who were seated in the
background.
But they seemed to be pot companions of the blacksmith, with whom
they were in earnest conversation.
Such was the party among whom the young officer found himself seated.
To all their questions he was mute, or gave a short, evasive answer.
A few moments had elapsed when he received from the landlord a
tumbler of hot rum and water, which he had ordered on entering.
To this he joined a few slices of old English beef, with a round or
two of the landlady’s home-made bread.
Feeling himself more comfortable, both as to his inward and outward
man, he was disposed to enter into conversation, which he had
hitherto avoided.
“May I ask you,” said the landlady, observing him listening to the
quaint jokes of the sexton, who was the oracle of the parish, “may
I ask you—mean no offence, your honour—what brought you out here in
this hurricane?”
“Why, my good woman,” replied the young officer, “I will not be
deceitful enough to say that I came out on purpose to see you. I
went, you must know, to see some friends, but, returning to my
uncle’s home, the darkness of the night made me lose my way, and here
I am, but where I know not.”
“Among friends, I hope,” cried the sexton, offering him at the same
time a drink from the tankard.
He was in the act of putting it to his lips, when the young officer’s
servant entered by the back-door with his horse-cloth strapped over
his head.
“Well, Tim,” said his master, “I suppose you are in want of something
to warm you? What will you take?”
“You are very kind, Master Ned; I’ll take whisky—what you know I
always takes when I be cold.”
He flung the horse-cloth aside, and discovered to the inmates his
grinning countenance, which he had blackened.
“Lawd-a’-mercy ’pon us!” exclaimed the landlady, “is that your
servant, sir?—mean no offence, your honour, only he’s rather ugly; he
may be a good servant for all that, though,” said she.
“Yes; and a faithful one, too,” replied Ned, his master, laughing and
telling a fib. “I brought him over from the West Indies with me about
five years ago, and he has never left me since, not even in the midst
of danger.”
“I believe you,” vociferated the murky blacksmith; “black persons are
generally faithful.”
Ned Warbeck could not repress a smile, and ordered in some
refreshment for Tim, who, without any ceremony, seated himself on
a three-legged stool by the side of Ned, his master, the others
willingly making room for him.
His ivory grinders were soon at work, and the whisky flask in a short
time was emptied of its contents.
He had scarcely ended when Ned, feeling weary, requested the landlord
to show him to a place of rest for the night.
“Willingly, sir,” said the landlord; “but I am hearty sorry I cannot
give you a bed, for, d’ye see, we’ve got several farmers who’ve been
to the fair near by, and they’re rum sort of chaps, who wouldn’t stir
an inch for anyone; free and easy, sir. I will, as you observed, give
you a place in the hay-loft, where you must put up for to-night with
a truss of hay for your pillow.”
“Good enough,” replied the young officer; “I’ve often had a worse
bed than that. Come along, Tim, my boy; make ready, and to the right
about—march!”
“A thought strikes me,” replied the landlord, “but I dare not propose
it.”
“What is it? Speak out,” said Ned.
“Well, sir, I have at some distance from here another house, which
I’ve had to let for these ten years, but nobody will live there,
because they say as how it’s ‘haunted,’ though I’ve been in it
several times myself in the day, and I have never seen anything.”
“But I have, though,” bawled out the sexton. “’Twas but the other
night, as I was coming from the veterinary surgeon, and as I passed
by your house yonder, I sees a light in your top room, and a large
hand stretching out o’ the window, that gived the shutter such a
slap. I trembles now at the bare idea of it, and if that there young
gemman takes my advice he’d better sleep in the hay-loft. Nothing
will disturb him there.”
“I thank you,” said Ned, “for warning me of the dangers I may have to
encounter; but I have always been fond of singular adventures, and as
this promises to be one of uncommon attraction, if the landlord will
lead the way, I am ready to spend the night in the ‘haunted mansion.’”
“Amen,” said the sexton, “one bird in the hand is worth two in the
bush. ‘Drink deep, and snore deep,’ that’s my motto, and for my
own part I would rather sleep quietly here than run the risk of
being murdered, slaughtered, or Heaven knows what, by ghosts or the
Skeleton Crew.”
“Not so with me,” said the dauntless son of Neptune, dropping at the
same time a purse into the landlord’s hands, “at all events, if I
don’t return, ’twill be but a job for you, Mr. Sexton,” said he, with
an arch look. “My servant Tim may stay here if he likes, and I will
take him up, on my way home to-morrow morning, if hobgoblins don’t
eat me up before.”
“I’ll not stay here, Master Ned, but go with you. I never saw a
ghost, and would very much like to see one,” said Tim with a grin.
“Well, my boy, your wish shall be gratified; go and fetch the pistols
out of the holsters, which, with another trusty friend I have here
(striking at the same time on the hilt of his sword, which was lying
on the bench) will give them a warm reception should they wish to
annoy us.”
Ned and Tim were soon ready.
In the meantime the landlord prepared a bottle of brandy, some pipes
and tobacco, which he put in a large bag, and slung over his shoulder.
“We will all go and see you safely in,” said the inmates, “but you
must excuse us if we don’t share the dangers with you. We’ve had
enough of ghosts and skeletons in our time about here.”
“Oh, certainly,” was Ned’s careless answer, “much obliged to you for
your kind offer.”
All was ready, and Tim had just returned with the pistols, upon
which, the whole party having bid good-night to the landlady, sallied
forth about half-past twelve.
The rain had not entirely ceased, and the night, to use the sexton’s
expression, was dark as the parish vaults.
The landlord walked first with a huge lantern, the reflection of
which upon the wet stones formed a striking contrast with the
surrounding objects.
After him came Ned Warbeck, between the sexton and the blacksmith.
Tim brought up the rear with the rest of the party.
They having arrived at the “haunted house,” the landlord soon applied
to the door a key of vast dimensions.
It creaked on its hinges, with a harsh noise, as if forboding some
calamity.
They all went up a few steps, looking cautiously around them, and
came at last to a small apartment on the first floor.
This was to be the scene of action.
The landlord in a moment raised a sparkling flame on the hearth, and
placed a table near it, with the refreshments already described upon
it.
After having made his guests as comfortable as the place would allow,
the host departed with his companions.
The young officer let them out with strict injunctions to the
landlord to take great care of his horses; then, shutting the door,
he put the key in his pocket, and prepared himself to meet with
courage whatever might happen.
Young midshipman (or as he now was Lieutenant) Ned’s first step was
to search the apartment.
But all his own and Master Tim’s endeavours to find an intruder were
useless.
Three cupboards were divested of their contents, and the old
tapestry, which served as wainscoting, was lifted up.
But all to no purpose.
They then proceeded to the room above, which underwent the same
examination.
They looked into every corner likely to conceal a man.
Finally, tired of a fruitless search, they returned to the comforts
of their own fireside.
But judge of their astonishment at finding the candle removed from
its place, and also extinguished!!
After a short pause, however, Ned attributed it to the wind which
arose from the opening or shutting of the door.
Ned Warbeck remembered the candle before he left the room again,
not wishing, he said, to leave two such irreconcilable enemies near
one another in their absence; meaning the brandy-bottle and candle.
Satisfied that nothing could now disturb them, Ned took a seat near
the fire, and desired Tim to do the same, who, nothing loth, obeyed
the mandate.
He drew the cork from the bottle, and loaded his pipe.
His master, for greater safety, examined the primings of the pistols,
and, giving them a fresh supply from the powder-horn, laid them on
the table by the side of his naked sword.
This done, they both agreed to try and keep awake, for which purpose
they each took a draught from the brandy bottle, and trimming their
pipes, began smoking at a tremendous rate.
Now and then laying these aside they relapsed into a friendly,
humorous chat, till, overcome by the fatigues of the day, Ned at last
showed symptoms of drowsiness, which soon communicating to Tim, they
eventually sunk in their chairs overpowered by sleep.
They had not been long in this position when Wildfire Ned starting
from his slumber, thought he heard a distant rattling of chains!
His first impulse was to seize a pistol, and then to listen more
attentively to the sound.
All was silent for a short time, and Ned was induced to think he was
labouring under the effects of a dream.
He was half disposed to resume his seat, when he was again startled
by the same noise, which this time seemed much nearer.
Surprised but not alarmed, he gave Tim a hearty shake to awake him,
and beckoned him to take up the remaining pistol.
He himself seized the sword, which he replaced in the scabbard and
girt to his side.
They now distinctly heard footsteps.
A moment after, they saw in a corner of the room the shadow of a tall
man!
Tim drew near to Ned Warbeck, his master, and silently pointed to
this apparition, which now seemed to have stopped!
They were not left long in this suspense.
The figure advancing, stalked into the room and stood motionless at
the further end.
It seemed to be about seven feet in height and was clothed in a loose
red robe, which came to its heels and concealed the feet.
The head-dress was composed of a large steel cap which covered the
whole face.
A thick chain encircled the body and hung to the ground.
“Advance not an inch further,” exclaimed Ned bravely, “or I will kill
you dead on the spot.”
“I too,” said Tim, resolved not to be behind-hand, “we will drive two
bullets through your gizzard if you’ll not be off,” said Tim, bravely.
These threats had not the desired effect.
The figure began to march towards them as if regardless of their
presence.
Tim and young Warbeck fired at once.
At the report of the fire-arms, the figure stopped once more, and, by
a significant nod of the head, invited Ned to come towards him.
Excited by this extraordinary circumstance, Ned drew his sword, and
determined to run all hazards to see where it would end.
He gave the pistols to Tim, with orders to load them, and walked
fearlessly up to the figure, which, turning on its heels, took the
direction it came in by!
Tim, though fond of his young master, followed reluctantly.
“For,” as he was heard to say afterwards, “he was sure it was a
skeleton, and bullet proof, as he had never yet missed his aim, and
that had he been the devil himself he would have brought him down.”
They proceeded for a considerable time through a dark hall, which
must have had a secret door that had escaped their observation,
since, in their search above mentioned, they had seen nothing of the
kind.
Suddenly, at the end of the hall, which gradually became lighter, the
figure disappeared, and Ned Warbeck, with his servant, Tim, felt the
floor give way under them, and soon perceived they were descending at
a rapid rate by the means of some invisible machine!