Hilary's first act on recovering himself was to creep back cautiously to
the side, and lower down the stone over the open well, shivering still
as he realised more fully the narrowness of his escape.
"Old Allstone will be wanting to know what I have done with his jug," he
said, as he seated himself upon the stool, and began to think what he
should do.
He was somewhat unnerved by his adventure, but recovering himself fast,
and he had the whole night before him for making another attempt. All
the same, though, the time wore on without his moving; for the
recollection of that horrible whispering plash and the echoes that had
smitten his ear were hard to get rid of, try how he would; but at last,
feeling that he was wasting time, he began upon hands and knees creeping
about the place, and tapping the floor.
There were plenty of hollow, echoing sounds in reply as he hammered away
with the hilt of the cutlass, and, telling himself that there could not
be wells beneath every stone, he made up his mind at last to try one
which seemed to present the greatest facilities for his effort--that is,
as far as he could tell by feeling the crack between it and the next.
It proved a long and a tough job before he could move it. Twice over he
was about to give it up, for when at last he managed to make it move a
little it kept slipping back into its place, and seeming to wedge itself
farther in.
The perspiration ran down his cheeks, and his arms ached; but he was
toiling for liberty, and on the _nil desperandum_ principle he worked
away.
For, as he thought matters over, he was compelled to own that, however
much Lieutenant Lipscombe might feel disposed to search for him, he had
been spirited away so suddenly that it was not likely that success would
attend the search.
Under these circumstances there was nothing for it but that he should
depend upon himself, and this he did to such a brave extent that at last
he placed the point of the cutlass in so satisfactory a position that on
heaving up the stone upon which he was at work it did not slip back, but
was so much dislodged that a little farther effort enabled him to pull
it aside; and then he sat down panting beside the black square opening
in the floor.
It was so dark that most of his work had to be done by the sense of
touch, and consequently the toil was twice as hard, for he could not see
where it was best to apply force. All the same, though, perseverance
was rewarded, and he had raised the stone.
Hilary did not feel in any great hurry to try his fortune this time; for
after his experience when he raised the last stone, he did not know what
might be here. Try to laugh it off as he would, there was a curious,
creeping sensation of dread came over him. He knew that this was a
chapel, and what more likely than that the vault beneath might be the
abiding place of the dead--of those who had occupied this old place in
the past; and, mingled with this, Adela's words would come back about
the place being haunted.
"Bah!" he exclaimed at last. "What a fool you are, Hil!"
As he spoke he gave himself a tremendous blow in the chest with his
doubled fist, hurting himself a great deal more than he intended, and
this roused him once more to action.
He was not going to lower himself down this time without trying for
bottom; and pulling out his cord, he tied it to the hilt of the cutlass,
lowered it into the hole, and began to fish, as he expressed it.
Clang! Jingle!
Steel upon stone, as far as he could judge, just over six feet below
where he was leaning over.
He tried again, here, there, and everywhere within his reach, and the
result was always the same, and there could be no mistake this time; he
might drop down in safety.
He could not help hesitation, for the hole was black and forbidding.
But it was for liberty, and after pausing for a few moments while he
leaned down and felt about as far as he could reach, he prepared to
descend.
His examination had taught him that the vault below was arched, for,
close by him, he could feel the thickness of the floor, while at the
other side of the square opening he could not reach down to the edge of
the arch, try how he would. In fact, his plan of sounding the floor had
answered admirably, and he had raised a stone just in the right place.
Hesitating no longer he thrust the cutlass into his waistband and
proceeded to lower himself down. His acts were very cautiously carried
out, for his former experience had taught him care, and holding on
tightly by the edge he gradually slid down, till at the full extent of
his arms he felt firm footing.
Still he did not leave hold, but passing himself along first one edge
and then another of his hole till he had gone along all four sides, and
always with the same result, he let go, and stood in safety upon a stone
floor.
Drawing his cutlass, he felt overhead the opening where the stone had
been removed, and wondered what he was to do to find it again in the
intense darkness; but he was obliged to own that he could do nothing.
A thrust to right touched nothing; a thrust to left had no better
result; and then he stood and wiped his brow.
"I wonder what I shall find," he said to himself. "Cases and tubs, or
old coffins."
He thrust out the sword once more straight in front of him, and this
time it touched wood, and made him shiver.
For a few moments he did not care to move and investigate farther; but
rousing himself once more, he tried again with his hand, to find that he
touched hoops and staves, and that it was a goodly-sized tub.
He tried again, cautiously, feeling carefully with one foot before he
attempted to move another, for the thought struck him that not very far
from him the opening down into that terrible well must be yawning in the
floor, and under these circumstances he moved most carefully.
He found that he need not have been so cautious, for after a little more
of this obscure investigation he learned that he was in a very
circumscribed area, surrounded on all sides by a most heterogeneous
collection of tubs, full and empty, rough cases, bales, ropes, blocks,
and iron tackle, such as might be used in a fishing-boat; and the next
thing his hands encountered was a pile of fishing-nets.
It was as he had expected: the vault or cellar below the chapel was full
of the stores belonging to the smugglers, and his task now was to find
his way out.
It was of no avail to wish for flint and steel, to try, if only by the
light of a few sparks, to dispel this terrible darkness, which seemed to
surround and close him in, prisoning his faculties, as it were, and
preventing him, now he had got so far, from making his escape.
There was always the dread of coming upon that terrible well acting like
a bar to further progress. Then there was the utter helplessness of his
position. Which way was he to go?
"At all events," he said to himself at last, "I can't go down the well
if I'm climbing over tubs;" and he felt his way to the place where he
had first touched a cask, and climbing up, he found that he could
progress a little way, always getting higher, with many an awkward slip;
and then he had to stop, for his head touched the roof.
A trial to right and left had no better result, and there was nothing
for it but to return and begin elsewhere.
This he did, crawling over nets and boxes and packages, whose kind and
shape he could not make out, but he always seemed to be stopped, try
where he would, and at last, panting and hot with his exertions, he lay
down on some fishing-nets close by to rest himself and endeavour to
think out what was best to do.
Suddenly, and without the slightest warning, there was a heavy grating
creak; a door was thrown open; and what to his eyes seemed to be a
dazzling light shone into the place, revealing a narrow passage not ten
feet from where he lay, but which he had passed over in the darkness
again and again.
"Better light two or three more candles," said a gruff voice.
"All right," was the reply; and from just on the other side of a pile of
merchandise that reached to the ceiling Hilary could hear some one
blowing at the tindery fluff made by lighting the top of a fresh candle.
What was he to do? He could not see the men who had come down, for he
was separated from them by the piled-up contents of the cellar; but any
attempt to regain the chapel must result in discovery, so he lay
motionless, hardly daring to breathe, till he heard more footsteps
coming--heavy, shuffling footsteps, as if those who came were loaded;
and, waiting till they came nearer and one of the first comers said
something aloud, Hilary raised himself slightly, and, almost with the
rapidity of thought, covered himself with some of the soft, loose
fishing-nets, feet and legs first, then shoulders and head, finally
throwing a few more folds over his head, and then lying down.
"Wouldn't be a bad plan to give them a good dose of brimstone," said one
of the men.
"Give who a good dose?" said another.
"Why, the rats. Didn't you hear 'em?"
"Oh, ay, yes; I did hear a bit of scuffling. Let 'em bide; they don't
do much mischief."
"Not much mischief!" said the other as Hilary felt his hopes rise as he
heard the noise attributed to rats. "Why, there's a couple o' hundred
fathom o' mack'rel net lying t'other side there gnawed full of holes."
"What o' that?" said the other. "Why, one such night as this, lad, is
worth two months o' mack'rel fishing."
"Well, yes, so it be. Ah! that's better. We shall see now what we're
about. I say, it was rather a near one with the cutter to-night. I
thought she'd ha' been down upon us."
"Down upon us? ay! I wish her skipper was boxed up safe along with
young cockchafer yonder."
"Hang his insolence!" thought Hilary. "Young cockchafer, indeed! He'll
find me more of a wasp."
"Think anyone sent word to the cutter?"
"Nay, not they. Who would? She's hanging about after her boy."
"Boy, eh? That's I," said Hilary again to himself. "Well, maybe I
shall show 'em I can fight like a man!"
"Here, I say," said another voice: "why don't you two begin to stow away
these kegs?"
"Never you mind. You bring 'em down from the carts: we know what we're
doing."
There was a sound of departing footsteps, and Hilary listened intently.
"Ah!" said one of the men, "if I was the skipper I'd send the young Tom
chicken about his business; but the skipper says he knows too much."
"How long's he going to keep him then?"
"Altogether, I s'pose, unless he likes to join us."
"Ha, ha, ha!" laughed the other, who was evidently moving something
heavy.
"Well, he might do worse, my lad. Anyhow, they ar'n't going to let him
go and bring that cutter down upon us."
"No, that wouldn't do. Lend a hand here. This bag's heavy. What's in
it?"
"I don't know. Feels like lead. P'r'aps it is."
"Think the cutter will hang about long?"
"How should I know? I say, though, how staggered them chaps was when
they got up to the rock and found no one to fight!"
"I wasn't there."
"Oh, no--more you wasn't. Come along, come along, lads. Here we are
waiting for stowage, and you talk about us keeping you waiting."
"You mind your own job," growled the voice that Hilary had heard finding
fault before.
There was more scuffling of feet, and then the two men went on talking.
"The cutter's sailors had come, of course, after the boy, and they
stumbled on the way through the rocks, just same as the boy did; and we
waited for 'em with a few sticks, and then give 'em as much as were good
for 'em, and then retreated, big Joey keeping the way till we had all
got up the rock, and then up he come in the dark, and you'd have laughed
fit to crack your sides to hear them down below whacking at the stones
with their cutlashes till they was obliged to believe we was gone, and
then they went back with their tails between their legs like a pack of
dogs."
The other man laughed as Hilary drank in all this, and learned how the
crew had been after him, and realised most thoroughly how it was that he
had been brought there, and also the ingenious plan by which the
smugglers and the political party with whom they seemed to be mixed up
contrived to throw their enemies off the scent. There was an interval,
during which the two men seemed to be very busy stowing away kegs and
packages, and then they went on again.
"Skipper of the cutter come next day--that one-eyed chap we took in so
with the lugger--and his chaps brought him up to the rocks, and then, my
wig! how he did give it 'em for bringing them a fool's errand, as he
called it! It was a fine game, I can tell you."
"Must have been," said the other, as Hilary drank in this information
too, and made mental vows about how he would pay the scoundrels out for
all this when once he got free.
Then there was a cessation of the feet coming down the stairs, broken by
one step that Hilary seemed to recognise.
"How are you getting on?"
Hilary was right; it was Allstone.
"Waiting for more," was the reply.
"They'll bring up another cart directly," said Allstone in his sulky
tone of voice.
"Sooner the better. I'm 'bout tired out. Fine lot o' rats here," said
the man.
"Ah, yes! There's a few," said Allstone.
"Heard 'em scuffling about like fun over the other side," said the man.
Hilary felt the cold perspiration ooze out of him as he lay there, dimly
seeing through the meshes of the net that he was in a low arched vault
of considerable extent, the curved roof being of time-blackened stone,
and that here and there were rough pillars from which the arches sprang.
He hardly dared to move, but, softly turning his head, he saw to his
horror that the square opening whence he had taken the stone was full in
view, the light that left him in darkness striking straight up through
the hole.
If they looked up there, he felt that they must see that the stone had
been moved, and he shivered as he felt that his efforts to escape had
been in vain.
"They're a plaguey long time coming," said the man who had been talking
so much. "Here, just come round here, my lad, and I'll show you what I
mean about the nets."
"It's all over," said Hilary as he took a firm grip of the hilt of his
cutlass, meaning as soon as he was discovered to strike out right and
left, and try to escape during the surprise his appearance would cause.
As he lay there, ready to spring up at the smallest indication of his
discovery, he saw the shadows move as the men came round by the heap of
packages, and enter the narrow passage where he was. The first, bearing
a candle stuck between some nails in a piece of wood, was a fair,
fresh-coloured young fellow, and he was closely followed by a burly
middle-aged man bearing another candle, Allstone coming last.
"There," said the younger man, "there's about as nice a mess for a set
o' nets to be in as anyone ever saw;" and he laid hold of the pile that
Hilary had drawn over his face.
It was only a matter of moments now, and as he lay there Hilary's nerves
tingled, and he could hardly contain himself for eagerness to make his
spring.
"Look at that, and that, and that," said the man, picking up folds of
the soft brown netting, and seeming about to strip all off Hilary, but
by a touch of fate helping his concealment the next moment, by throwing
fold after fold over him, till the next thing seemed to be that he would
be smothered.
"Tell you what," he said. "They nets are just being spoiled. There's
plenty of time before the next cart unloads. Lend a hand here, and
let's have 'em all out in the pure air. I hate seeing good trade left
down here to spoil in a damp--"
He laid hold of the nets, and as he gave a drag Hilary felt the meshes
gliding over his face, and prepared himself to spring up and make a dash
for his liberty.