middle was a steel girdle, connected by a fine chain with the staple in
the wall. Martin discovered in a few moments that it was impossible to
detach the chain at either end; the links, though small, were of tough
metal, and gave no sign of yielding under the strongest strain he could
put upon them.
“This is thirsty work,” said Martin. “I’ll take a drink from your
pitcher, Gundra. They haven’t brought me any water or food; I suppose
they think they’ll tame me. They don’t starve you?”
“No; give food; not much.”
“And how long have you been here?”
Gundra explained that in the dead of Saturday night someone had come
into the cupboard under the stairs, gagged him, and carried him out of
the house. He had struggled hard.
“That accounts for Mr. Seymour’s button,” thought Martin. “But how am I
to get Gundra free?”
He sat for a while considering, with his knees up and his chin on his
hands. “I’ll try it,” he exclaimed at length.
The staple was driven deep into the wall, but Martin’s idea was that its
setting might be loosened by picking at the wood around it, and that
then a tug would wrench it away. Opening his clasp knife he began to
scrape and chip at the wood, which being oak offered a considerable
resistance to his rather blunt blade. More than once he pulled at the
staple without detecting any sign of its yielding.
“What about a violent jerk?” he thought.
He explained to Gundra what he proposed to do. They both stood close to
the wall. Martin got his hands firmly between Gundra’s body and the
steel girdle; then at the same moment both he and the Indian made a
sudden leap into the room. The staple was torn from its setting; the
boys fell in a heap on the floor, and the metal rattled and clanged.
Clasping each other, they listened breathlessly. Had the sounds been
heard by the men above?
There were no cries, no sudden movement, no footsteps. Every now and
then came the creaking of the pulley-block which had been going on at
intervals ever since Martin had been brought into the room, and the
exchange of a few words between the men who were presumably attending to
the lowering of the goods. They were too much occupied with their task
to notice the sounds in the room.
“Now to get out!” said Martin in a whisper. “I think I can find my way
to the door.”
“Me come; no let go,” said Gundra, clinging to him.
They moved together in the direction of the door. The chain on the
Indian boy’s girdle clanked.
“This won’t do,” said Martin. “Tuck it up inside the belt.”
When this was done they started again. Martin had taken his bearings by
the light of the fat cook’s lantern, but in the pitch darkness he was at
fault, and it was only by feeling round the wall that they at last
reached the door. It was locked. There was no escape that way.
“Any windows?” asked Martin.
“No, sahib. But another door; oh, yes, over there.”
“You have seen it open?”
“No, but see light in crack.”
“Then we’ll make for that. Keep close to me.”
CHAPTER THE TWENTY-EIGHTH
THE BOYS ESCAPE
The two boys groped across the room to find the second door. Suddenly
Martin tripped and almost fell; he had stepped into a hole where the
floor-boards were rotted away.
“Take care, Gundra,” he said, recovering himself.
He felt on the floor to ascertain the size of the gap, then led the
Indian boy cautiously across it, and almost immediately touched a wall.
Passing his hand along it, he came upon an iron bar.
“I think this is it,” he said.
Feeling along the bar and the wall behind it, he discovered a vertical
crack.
“A folding door,” he thought. “Now to lift the bar and see if we can
open the door and find out where it leads to.”
The bar was thick and heavy, and so well settled down into its sockets
that it had evidently not been used for some time. Martin’s efforts to
lift it at first had no success, but after much pulling and pushing it
shifted upward suddenly with a loud squeaking noise.
The boys held their breath, wondering whether the sound had been heard
in the room above. But the slow creaking still went on, and Martin
ventured to raise the bar from its place and lay it gently on the floor.
There was an iron ring in one of the panels of the double door.
Inserting his finger in this Martin pulled, and the panel, sticking at
first, presently came inward with a squeak; clearly its hinges needed
oiling. Inch by inch he drew it towards him. A strong breeze blew into
the room, carrying with it a salt tang. The clear sky eastward was
studded with stars, which kindled reflections in the river. Nearer at
hand a reddish glow suffused the sky.
While they were gazing out there was a creak above them, much louder
than they had heard before, and a large object dangling at the end of a
rope passed slowly downward within a yard of their faces. It was plain
that goods were being let down from the store-room above with some care
to avoid noise, for there was no shouting, no giving and receiving
directions, no cries of “Are you ready?” “Lower away!” such as were
usual in operations of the kind.
Holding on by the door, Martin bent down and peered over the edge,
careful to keep out of sight. The package that had been lowered rested
on a sort of quay between the wall of the warehouse and the shored-up
bank of the river. A man was disengaging it from the rope. When it was
free he shook the rope as a signal that it might be drawn up, then
hoisted the package on to a truck and wheeled it along the quay until he
came to a short jetty. There he halted and lowered it over the side;
evidently a boat was moored below. Apparently the tide was too low to
allow of the boat’s drawing in nearer to the bank.
Meanwhile a second load came slowly down over the pulley, and reached
the ground with a slight jolt. The man had not yet returned from the
jetty with the truck. Martin wondered whether it would be possible to
slide down the rope without attracting attention. The stars gave very
little light, and the glow from the Fire was intercepted by the angle of
the warehouse. The distance from the door to the ground was less than
twenty feet.
Leaning out he cautiously tried the rope. It gave under a slight pull,
showing that the man above was no longer holding it firmly. But he must
have noticed the movement, for Martin heard a hoarse voice whisper,
“Don’t pull the rope through the block, you fool!”
He shrank back into the room.
“Are you there?” whispered the voice again.
At this moment the man below reached the package on the ground.
“What’s the matter?” he growled.
“I said, don’t pull on the rope!” repeated the man above.
“Didn’t touch it!” responded the other gruffly.
There was an inaudible reply from the upper storey. The second load was
discharged and trundled away, the rope again wound up, and by the time
the man returned from the jetty a third package had been lowered.
By this time Martin had arrived at a conclusion. If he and Gundra were
to escape by the rope, they must cling to it while it was descending
weighted with a load, and while the man below was still absent at the
jetty. There was the risk of their being discovered through the man at
the pulley feeling the extra drag on the rope, or through the return of
the other man while they were still suspended in the air. Even should
they reach the ground safely, there was the further risk of their being
intercepted, for they would have to pass the jetty on their left, and go
through the lower floor of the warehouse, the quay on the right
apparently ending at a high blank wall.
But it was clear that they must either face these risks, with a chance,
however slight, of escaping, or remain as prisoners in the room, with
the certainty that the breaking of their bonds would be discovered as
soon as fat Sebastian paid them his next visit.
In rapid whispers Martin explained his plan to the Indian boy. Timid as
Gundra had hitherto appeared, it was plain that ill-usage had not
utterly broken his spirit, for he agreed eagerly to make the attempt,
and promised to follow Martin’s instructions faithfully.
“I will go first,” said Martin, with the idea of giving Gundra
confidence. “We can’t both go down with the same load. You must wait for
the next, but don’t come down till you see I am safe.”
They waited, tingling with impatience and excitement, until once more a
heavy package came swaying past the open door. As soon as it had
descended below the sill, Martin took a firm hold of the rope and swung
off. There was a louder creaking of the pulley above, a more violent
oscillation of the load, a sudden quickening of the rate of descent;
then the slow, even movement was resumed.
Martin glanced up. The pulley block hung from the wall above a similar
door some twelve feet above. The man who operated the machine was not
visible.
Martin slid down until his feet touched the package. The moment this
reached the ground he slipped off and glided along the wall until he
came to a shaded corner beyond the shore end of the jetty. There he drew
back as far as possible into the shadow and waited.
“Are you there?” he heard the man in the upper room whisper huskily, and
saw him lean over, holding on to the rope.
There was no answer. His mate was at that moment half-way back from the
jetty, pushing the truck before him. A minute or so later, when he began
to loose the package, the man above noticed the movement of the rope,
and said:
“You there, Bob?”
“Ay! What’s up? In a hurry, ain’t you? You’ve got the easy job.”
“No call to be nasty! Have a care to stand from under when the loads are
coming down. These old blocks are sticking. There was a mighty bad jolt
just now. I don’t trust ’em.”
“All right; be there much more?”
“Half a dozen boxes or so.”
“I’m not sorry. The tide is making. I might as well wait a few minutes,
then I can pull the barge up a bit and save all this hiking with the
truck.”
Martin’s heart sank. If the man did as he suggested, Gundra would have
no opportunity of escaping. But next moment he was reassured.
“’Tain’t safe,” said the man above. “Barge might stick in the mud, and
tide take an hour or more to lift her. The sooner we get these things on
board the better.”
While the men were talking the rope had been drawn up, and another load
was fastened to it almost as soon as the man below had started to wheel
the previous one away.
The pulley creaked, the package descended. Martin watched anxiously,
wondering whether Gundra’s nerve would fail, whether the addition of his
weight to the rope would cause the man this time to look over. He saw
the slight form issue from the doorway and clutch the rope. Gundra was
much lighter than Martin; the extra weight made scarcely any difference
to the rate at which the rope descended. But Martin did not feel secure
until the load bumped on the ground, and the Indian boy, running as
lightly as a wild animal, reached his side.
CHAPTER THE TWENTY-NINTH
MARTIN USES HIS WITS
Both the boys were panting a little, as much from excitement as from
exertion. For a few moments they remained, silent and still, in the
shadowy recess. Martin’s thoughts were busy with the new problem, how to
make good their escape. They were free, but they were not at large.
“Shall we wait until the loading is finished?” Martin asked himself.
“There are only a few more loads to come down, then the barge will put
off. No doubt these men will leave, too, and we shall be able to get
away at leisure.”
But as he pondered the matter he decided for immediate action. Convinced
that the goods now being removed were stolen property, he was bent on
saving it if that were possible, and the only obvious means of saving it
was to inform someone in authority who would send officers of the law to
arrest both goods and men. There was very little time. To win complete
freedom was a matter of urgency.
“Come along,” Martin whispered when the man was once more busy at the
jetty.
They crept along by the wall to the door of the warehouse. It was shut
and bolted. On each side of it was a window, but the shutters were up,
and heavily barred. It would be impossible even to attempt to force an
entrance without making a noise that would bring the man hot-foot upon
them.
Martin glanced this way and that. The quay on the landward side was
entirely enclosed. It seemed that there was no exit from it except
through the warehouse, and that was shut. They were trapped after all.
But there was the river. Could they escape by that? Was there, below the
jetty, a wherry or any kind of row-boat in addition to the barge that
was being loaded? Martin could not see one. Nor could they seize an
opportunity and dive into the river, for beneath the shore end of the
jetty there was nothing at low tide but liquid mud, probably deep enough
to engulf them.
All at once the man’s remark about pulling the barge up recurred to
Martin. An idea struck him that made his heart bound and his nerves
tingle. He whispered a few words to Gundra, and anyone who could have
observed them would have noticed how they braced themselves up.
The result of Martin’s inspiration showed itself when the man next left
the barge and wheeled the truck back along the jetty and across the
quay. As soon as his back was turned, they quitted their hiding-place
and, stooping low, made a dash for the jetty, the sound of their
movements being drowned by the noise of the rumbling wheels.
At the place where the jetty sprang from the quay they stopped, lowered
themselves over the side, and slipped on to one of the cross-beams that
supported the planking. There they crouched breathlessly. It was a
perilous position, for the timber was slippery with slime, and they had
to hug it closely to prevent their sliding off. There, clinging and
crouching, they remained until the man had again come and gone.
As soon as the man was at a safe distance, they clambered up to the
jetty, and crept along it on all fours until they came just above the
barge. This was now well afloat, but it was moored stem and stern to
posts on the jetty, as they saw by the light of a small oil-lamp
standing on a tub amidships. Boxes were piled fore and aft.
The two boys slid down on to the barge by the rope by which the man had
lowered the goods. Martin ran to the stern and tried to cast the aft
mooring rope loose; but the knot was firm and the rope hard, and he had
not succeeded when he heard the rumbling of the truck wheels along the
quay. There was not time to complete the job before the man arrived. The
urgent necessity at the moment was to hide and hope that he would not
see them.
Together they crouched down in the narrow space between the piled boxes
and the gunwale. With beating hearts they heard the rumbling draw
nearer; the heavy tramp of the man; his mutterings as he heaved his load
from the truck and lowered it to the deck of the barge. They held their
breath. Would the man follow it? No; he swung it almost over their
heads, and it settled with a bump a few feet short of them.
The moment the man retreated, Martin dashed back to the aft rope,
struggled with the knot until he managed to cast it off, hastened
forward and cast off the rope there likewise. The barge swung free.
Against its gunwale lay the long heavy sweeps with which it was
propelled. Martin attempted to lift one of these, but found it
impossible to do so without Gundra’s help.
The barge was already lurching shoreward on the tide. In a few moments,
unless its motion was checked, it would strike the mud, and then all
hope of escape was lost. Holding the sweep between them, the boys drove
it against the beams that supported the jetty, and tried to push off.
Unused to the handling of so clumsy an implement, the boys were unable
to prevent its end from glancing off the slimy timber, and it plunged
with a splash into the water. But they had not let it go. Levering it up
across the gunwale, they once more made the attempt, and by exerting all
possible pressure were able to force the barge a yard or two from the
jetty. Then they were almost undone by their own vigour, for the sweep
slipped again as the barge sheered away, and they fell forward, striking
against the gunwale, and dropping the sweep with a loud clatter.
They seized it just in time to save it from being carried overboard.
Meanwhile the barge had lost the impetus they had given it, and was
again drifting shoreward. It was clear that the noise they had made had
been heard by the men. There was a shout and hurried footsteps on the
quay, and Martin, looking up, could just see in the starlight the man at
the upper door leaning out and making wild movements with his arms,
evidently to urge on his mate below.
In a moment this man came in sight, running along the quay to the spot
where he expected the barge to strike if it escaped the mud. Martin saw
that the next few minutes would decide his fate.
“Catch hold!” he cried to the Indian boy. “Shove when I tell you.”
He pointed the sweep at the angle between two supporting beams, and with
Gundra’s help drove it into the notch, and brought all his weight and
strength to bear upon it. The barge sidled outward, slowly, too slowly.
Martin realised that if the man had run on to the jetty, he could have
jumped on board before the heavy vessel was out of range.
“Don’t let go,” Martin called, as the sweep dropped from its
resting-place into the water.
Keeping a tight grasp on the pole, the boys pulled it slowly through the
water. The barge swung about a little, and Martin saw with joy that the
gap between it and the quay was wider. It was now too late for the man
to attempt the leap. He stood on the quayside, shouting, cursing,
gesticulating to his companions, two men who were running to join him.
The second of them, lumbering along in the rear, Martin recognised as
Sebastian the fat cook.
Unwieldy though the sweep was, Martin was learning under the stress of
necessity how to manipulate it, his knowledge of oarsmanship assisting.
Laboriously he and Gundra dragged it through the water, and at every
stroke the barge forged a little farther from the quay.
The men there were in all the agitation of helpless rage. There was a
flash, a crack; one of them had fired a pistol.
“You fool!” shouted one of his companions. “Do you want to bring all
Deptford down upon us!”
The answer was inaudible on the barge. There the boys, panting and
sweating from their exertions in the hot night, did not relax their
efforts until the heavy vessel was clear of the jetty and had begun to
drift upstream on the tide. Then, as they paused, they heard the same
voice apparently giving an order, though the words could not be
distinguished. Dimly they saw the three figures run along the quay, then
they were lost to sight in the darkness. A few moments later there came
the sound of rusty hinges creaking; somewhere a gate was opening.
“What are they about now?” thought Martin; and he noticed for the first
time that Gundra’s eyes were wide with amazement and fright as they
gazed upon the ruddy glow of the Fire.
CHAPTER THE THIRTIETH
THE BOYS SWIM FOR IT
Martin felt that he had been uncommonly lucky. The utmost he had hoped
for was to escape with Gundra from the warehouse; it now seemed to his
sanguine spirit that he would save the stolen property as well. The
barge was slowly drifting upstream; there was no present sign of
pursuit; and if his luck held, before long he would get assistance from
friendly hands, and the evil schemes of Blackbeard, Slocum, and the rest
would be brought to nought.
But he had pitched his hopes too high. The heavy barge moved only at the
pace of the tide, and neither Martin nor the Indian had sufficient
muscular strength to work the cumbersome sweep for more than a few
minutes at a time. And they were soon aware that the pursuit had
started. In the light from the glowing sky they caught sight of three or
four men hurrying along the road that bordered the river. They were
outstripping the barge; it was probably their intention to get well
ahead, find a boat, and cut across the course of the fugitives.
They might be delayed by the fact that every serviceable boat had been
engaged for the conveyance of householders’ goods, but sooner or later
they would get some kind of craft, and then the end was inevitable.
The same dearth of boats operated against Martin. He hailed one or two
that passed, but the watermen would not so much as wait to hear his
explanations; they were reaping a golden harvest.
What could be done? The only chance seemed to be to run the barge across
the river to the north bank, as near as possible to the stairs where
Martin’s friends were wont to ply, and trust to finding one or other of
them at hand and ready to help.
The barge was drifting broadside with the stream, and it was only by
dint of great efforts and strenuous pulling at the sweep that the boys
were able to bring her head in the desired direction. They had hardly
begun to creep towards the north bank when they heard shouts ahead, and
saw a wherry putting out from the southern shore and making to cross
their bows.
The fiery aspect of the sky seemed to increase the heat of the summer
night, and Martin felt the sweat pouring off him in streams as he tugged
desperately at the sweep. He realised in a few moments the impossibility
of gaining the stairs before the wherry overtook him. To save the goods
was beyond hoping for; it would be as much as he could do to save
himself and Gundra from capture. They must abandon the barge and swim
for the shore, now perhaps some fifty yards distant. Could they do so
without being seen and followed? Martin had little doubt that the
pursuers would strain every nerve to capture them, and so ensure that
the sailing of the _Santa Maria_ should not be interfered with.
“We must swim for it,” he said, dropping the sweep. “Come with me, and
keep low.”
They crept behind the pile of cargo that had sheltered them when they
first boarded the barge, and slipped over the gunwale into the water on
the side remote from the pursuing wherry. Martin hoped to get at least
half way to the shore before he was seen. With Gundra he struck out
vigorously, but was soon conscious that his strength had already been
overtaxed, and he would be unable to keep up his stroke for more than a
minute or two.
It seemed that they had only left the barge a few seconds when they
heard the wherry bump into its side, and the men scrambling on board,
cursing as they searched for the fugitives. The search did not last
long; one of the pursuers caught sight of the swimmers, who might
perhaps have got away unseen but for the glare of the Fire.
“There they are!”
The shout caused Martin and Gundra to put all their remaining strength
into their strokes. The pursuers rushed for their boat, and it was
fortunate for the swimmers that it lay on the farther side of the barge.
By the time it had been pulled round the stern the boys had entered
shallow water, and were wading ashore in the mud.
And then the pursuers made a mistake. Had they continued on their course
upstream and rowed across to the nearest stairs, or to one of the quays
that broke the riverside, they could have landed well ahead of the boys
and met them while they were still floundering in the mud flats. But in
their haste and flurry, due no doubt to their wish to avoid drawing too
much attention from passing boats, they swung round against the current
and made toward the boys.
Ankle deep in slime, Martin and Gundra struggled on to gain the waste
land that stretched up from the river bank. The pursuing boat rapidly
approached them, and was only some twenty yards behind when its nose
stuck in the mud, throwing the rowers forward over their oars. Cursing
violently, the men strove to back water, but the boat was held fast, the
oars were useless, and it was only after precious time had been wasted
that the men decided to jump overboard and continue the pursuit on foot.
[Illustration]
In the clinging mud their weight told against them. By the time they had
dragged themselves on to the dry land the boys were already disappearing
into the hedge-lined lane that wound north-westward in the direction of
Spitalfields.
As they ran the chain by which Gundra had been fastened slipped from his
steel girdle, and its clanking gave a clue to their line of flight. They
heard the heavy feet of their pursuers thundering after them. Martin
tucked the chain up as well as he could, scarcely changing his pace, and
dragged Gundra along. In a minute or two they would reach houses, and
among them, shadowed from the glare of the Fire, they might hope to
elude further pursuit.