In a moment Hilary mentally saw Sir Henry and the skipper enter his
prison, fancied the shout of alarm, and seemed to see himself, cutlass
in hand, making a dash for his liberty; but the struggle was not then to
be, for, with an angry voice, Sir Henry interposed.
"Martin!" he exclaimed, "let us understand one another once and for all.
Your duty, sir, is to obey me, and I'll be obeyed. As to that boy, I
tell you I'll win him to our side, but it will be at my own good time.
Sir, I order you to come away from that door."
"What!" exclaimed the skipper furiously; "do you know I have a dozen men
ready to take my side if I raise my voice?"
"I neither know nor care," cried Sir Henry hoarsely; "but I do know that
you have sworn allegiance to King Charles Edward, sir, and that you are
my inferior officer in the cause. Disobey me, sir, at your peril."
Hilary grasped his cutlass, and the fighting blood of the Englishman was
making his veins tingle.
"If it comes to a tussle," he thought, "there'll be one on Sir Henry's
side they don't count upon;" and as he thought this he softly raised the
latch, ready to swing open the door and dash out.
But Martin, the skipper, evidently did not care to quarrel with Sir
Henry, and his next words were quite apologetic.
"Why, Sir Henry," he said with a rough laugh, "I believe we two were
getting out of temper, and that won't do, you know."
"I am not out of temper," said Sir Henry; "but I'll be obeyed, sir."
"And so you shall be, Sir Henry. It's all right, and I'll say no more
about it, only that it's dangerous leaving a young fellow like that shut
up. These boys are as active as monkeys, and we might return at any
time and find the young rascal gone. But you'll do your best to bring
him round?"
"I will," replied Sir Henry, "for more reasons than one. Look here,
Martin, if I spoke too angrily to you just now I beg your pardon, but
you touch upon a tender point when you talk of rough measures towards
that boy. I told you that he was my child's companion years ago--in
fact, I used to look upon him quite as a son. There," he added hastily,
"you may trust me to do my best. Good-night."
"Good-night, Sir Henry, good-night," said the skipper effusively. "I'll
trust you. Good-night."
Sir Henry's steps were heard to die away, and so silent was everything
that Hilary concluded that the skipper must have also gone; but just as
he had made up his mind that this was the case some one uttered an oath.
"Give me the keys, Allstone," Hilary heard the next moment; and once
more he concluded that all was over, for there was the jingle of the
iron, and it seemed that now he was left to himself Martin was about to
visit the young prisoner, and try to frighten him into following out his
wishes.
Hilary was in despair, but he made up his mind what to do, and that was
to fling open the door and walk swiftly across the place where the men
were lying about, as soon as he heard the skipper and Allstone go into
the old chapel.
To his dismay, however, the man came straight to the door where Hilary
was standing, raised the latch, opened it, and as the young officer drew
back the heavy door struck him in the chest, but before he could recover
from his surprise there was a sharp bang, with the accompanying rattle
of the great latch, and as a dull echo came from below, the key was
turned, and the lock shot into the stone cheek.
"Curse him and his fine airs!" Hilary heard the skipper say, hoarsely.
"I shall have the young villain bringing the cutter's crew down upon us.
I wish his neck was broken."
"Put him in the top room, then," said Allstone; "he'll break his neck
trying to get away."
"Not he," said the skipper; "those middies can climb like cats. He's
safe enough now, I suppose."
"Oh, yes," said Allstone, "I went and had a look at the window-bars
to-night."
"Safe enough, yes," muttered Hilary, as he heard the departing steps;
"they've locked me up safe enough. Was anything ever so vexatious?"
As he heard the clang of a door he placed his eye to the open keyhole,
and through it he could see into the great kitchen, which now seemed to
be lit only by the glow from a great wood fire, for the shadows danced
on the wall, and when now and then the fire fell together and the flames
danced up more brightly he could make out quite definitely a pair of the
shadows, which were evidently those of a couple of half-recumbent men.
Just on one side too he could plainly see part of a man's leg. No
shadow this, but a limb of some one who had thrown himself upon the
floor; and Hilary rightly judged that the crew of the lugger were
snatching an hour or two's repose previous to being called up by their
leader.
The laughing and talking were silenced, and he could hear nothing but
the occasional crackle of burning wood.
He raised the latch softly, pressing against the door the while; but it
was fast locked, and by running his fingers down the side he could feel
where the great square bolt of the lock ran into the stone wall. Escape
that way was cut off, and ready to stamp with mortification Hilary stood
upon the step at the top of the flight asking himself what he had best
do.
There was no chance of getting away that night, so he felt that he must
give it up, and the sinking despondency that came over him was for the
moment terrible; but reaction soon sets in when one is on the buoyant
side of twenty, and he recalled the fact that, though he might be
obliged to return to his prison, he had found a way of exit; and if he
went back, lowered the stone and dusted it over, he might come down
another time, night or morning, and find the door open; in fact, he
might keep on trying till he did.
It was very disheartening, but there seemed to be nothing else to be
done, and he stood there thinking of how nearly he had escaped, but at
the same he was obliged to own how happily he had avoided detection.
Then the remembrance of the well came back, and the cold perspiration
broke out on his hands and brow at the bare recollection.
"Bah! what's the good of thinking about that?" he said to himself; and
he was about to descend when he fancied he heard a faint rustling noise
on the other side of the door, and then whispers.
The sounds ceased directly, and he bent down so that his eye was to the
keyhole, when, to his surprise, he found that something was between him
and the light.
Just then the whispers began again, and placing his ear this time to the
great hole, he plainly heard two men speaking:
"I think you can do it without a light," said one.
"Ay, easy enough. You stop, and if you hear Allstone coming, give just
one pipe, and I'll be up directly."
"All right. Get the hollands this time. Gently with that key."
Hilary would have run down, but he was afraid of detection, for just
then there was the harsh grating noise of a key being thrust into the
big lock, the bolt creaked back, the latch was raised, and the door
softly pushed open as he pressed himself back against the wall, and
remained there in the darkness, almost afraid to breathe.
It was intensely dark now, even when the door was opened, and as Hilary
stood there behind the door he heard some one descend, while another
stood at the top, breathing hard, and evidently listening to the
rustling of the man down below.
Several minutes passed, and then the man at the top of the stairs
muttered impatiently, and went down two or three of the degrees.
"Pst! Dick!" he whispered.
"Ay, ay."
"Be quick, man!"
"I can't find 'em," was the whispered reply. "They've packed the cases
atop of 'em."
"Jolterhead!" muttered the other impatiently. "Why, they're just at the
back."
"Come down," was whispered from below, and to Hilary's great delight he
heard the man on the watch go softly below.
Now was Hilary's opportunity, and gliding softly from behind the door,
he stepped out into the stone passage, and saw before him a faint light
shining under the bottom of the door which the men had evidently closed
when they left the kitchen.
He might have locked the two fellows in the vault, but that would have
caused needless noise, and perhaps hindered his escape, so without
further hesitation he stepped lightly along the passage, and softly
pressed against the farther door.
It yielded easily, and he found himself looking into a great low-ceiled
kitchen, whose ancient black rafters shone in the glow from a huge
fireplace, upon whose hearth the remains of a large fire flickered and
sent forth a few dying sparks.
Around it, and stretched in a variety of postures upon the floor, were
some eight or ten men fast asleep; and what took Hilary's attention more
than all was another door at the far corner, which it was now his aim to
reach.
But to do this he would have to step over two of the men, and there was
the possibility that, though they all seemed to be asleep, one or more
might be awake and watchful.
It needed no little firmness to make the attempt; but if he were to
escape, he knew it must be done.
"If they wake they will only take me back," thought Hilary, "so I may as
well try."
He hesitated no longer, but stepping on tiptoe he passed on between two
of the sleeping men, and was in the act of stepping over another, when a
gruff voice from a corner exclaimed:--
"Why don't you lie down. You'll be glad of a nap by and by."
Hilary felt as if his heart had leaped to his mouth, and he thought he
was discovered; but the words were spoken in a sleepy tone, and from the
sound that followed it was evident that the man had turned over.
Hilary waited a few minutes, and once more resumed his progress towards
the door, making every movement with the greatest caution; and he was
already half way to his goal when he heard the grating of the lock at
the top of the dark cellar stairs, and a low whispering told him that
the men were about to return.
There was not a moment to lose, and stepping lightly on, he reached the
door, raised the great wooden latch by which it was secured, and passed
in, while just as he closed it he saw through the opening the two men
who had been below enter the place.
The fire was throwing out but little light now, but he could see that
they carried what looked like a little spirit keg, which they set down
by the fire. The closing door shut out the rest.