A feeling of misery that he could not have explained came over Archy
Raystoke as he grasped the position, and he wished that he had never
undertaken the task he had in hand.
For it seemed so shocking that the noble-looking lady and gentleman he
had seen that day should be in league with a gang of smugglers, and have
lent their out-of-the-way house to be a depository for the contraband
goods.
"Oh, it's impossible," he said to himself. "They could not. The
scoundrels have hidden the things somewhere up in the wood by the house,
thinking that nobody would come in there to search."
"The artful rascal!" said Archy to himself, feeling better now that he
had put this interpretation upon the proceedings; and, knowing his way
better now, and thinking of the dog the while, he hurried on, and had
nearly reached the house, meaning to hide somewhere among the abundant
shrubs which surrounded it till the smugglers had passed, when all doubt
as to the party being those he was tracking was chased away by his
hearing a voice just before him say,--
"All right, father. Here they come."
Archy stopped short, as he felt his position. The farmer and his son
had come up here, and were waiting for the men to act as carriers.
"What shall I do?" he asked himself, for he was between two parties, and
a step might mean discovery. In fact, if the last speaker had taken a
step forward, he must have detected the spy's presence.
There was no time for thought Archy stood for a moment or two as if
paralysed; then, as he heard the farmer's gruff voice, he dropped down,
and began to crawl among the bushes.
"Been a long time coming; here, go in and get the lanthorns now."
At that moment Archy was brought up by a wall, over which he passed his
hands, to find that he was directly after touching iron bars close to
the ground.
It was some building, and then, as he crouched there, he was conscious
of a peculiar odour, which told him not only that this was a cellar, but
one in which brandy was stored.
Again he felt a strange sensation of misery. He had accidentally hit
upon the place where the cargo had been hidden, and it must be in the
cellar of the Hoze, and not in the wood.
He wished he had not made the discovery now, and felt ready to retreat,
for it would be horrible to have to tell the lieutenant, giving him such
information as would lead to the arrest of the tall, careworn man who
had impressed him so strangely that day.
All at once he was conscious of a gleam of light, following a faint
noise, and right before him he saw the fluttering blue flame of a
brimstone match, which blue began to turn yellow and illumine the face
of the boy who had been a prisoner, and two great stacks of kegs and
bales, reaching nearly from floor to ceiling of a low vault.
The light shone out through the grated window, by which he was on hands
and knees, and feeling that he would be at once recognised if his face
was seen, he crept on under the wall a few yards, and lay flat
listening, as he wished that there was time for him to get down to the
cliff, and signal for help, to capture the smugglers and their store.
An impossibility, he knew, for the cargo might be all gone long before
he could reach the cutter, even if a boat were waiting; beside which, he
felt that he did not want to tell all he had seen, for if he did, what
would follow with respect to those he had spoken with that day?
"Now, my lads, in with you," cried a familiar voice. "Load up carefully
when you get down to the carts, and we shall get all snug before
daylight."
A murmur of acquiescence followed, and they began to tramp very close to
where the midshipman lay, expecting every moment to be seen.
He crouched down as low as he could, not daring to raise even his head,
and wondering whether the bright hilt of his dirk would show, and he
thrust it farther into his breast. Then he wondered whether he could
back softly away; but that was impossible, for the light came from
behind him, through the grated window, while escape forward was
impossible, as he was close to a door through which shadowy forms were
passing in.
There was nothing for it but to lie still, and trust to his not being
seen, when the next minutes were made agreeable by a host of
recollections regarding the treatment received by those who betrayed
smugglers, of the desperate fights there had been, how many had been
killed, and a shudder ran through the lad as he recalled the story of a
man who had played the spy, somewhere about the south coast, being
thrown from a cliff, and literally smashed.
"They'll see me, I know they'll see me," thought Archy; "but I'm a
king's officer, young as I am, and I'll show them that I can fight for
my life like a man."
As this thought struck him, his hand went involuntarily to his side to
get a good grip of and draw his dirk.
The movement betrayed him, for, before he could quite realise that his
dirk was hidden in his breast, he was seized by two great muscular
hands, dragged into a standing position, and he could dimly see a face
peering into his, as a voice, which he recognised as the farmer's,
growled savagely--
"Who's this?"