"THE CARL ON THE CLIFF TOP."
Our Viking-boys were not long rowing out the voe that evening. The
twilight had come sufficiently for their purpose. It had not brought
darkness, but it indicated that a late hour had come, when the
inhabitants of Boden were probably at rest indoors. They were so
busily engaged laying plans that they did not comment upon the perfect
silence which reigned in the geo as they approached. The splash of
their oars and the tones of their voices were loud enough to have
warned Gloy of their approach, and cause him to make some response.
But he didn't.
A joyous bark from Pirate was the first thing to draw the attention,
and then the lads noticed that the dog was alone.
"Guess Gloy is taking a nap, stupid fellow!" Yaspard remarked, and then
he hallooed as they ran the light skiff high and dry upon the sand.
No answer came to the halloo, and a brief glance sufficed to show that
their prisoner was not in the geo. The place was small and without any
corner for concealment. It was light enough to see all round the geo.
Of a certainty Gloy was not slumbering, and Gloy was not there!
The lads were too amazed to utter a word, but Pirate made up for their
silence by barking and howling his delight at being in company once
more. Dogs are very social, and solitude had not been pleasing to
Pirate. The first person to speak was Lowrie, and a certain amount of
satisfaction was displayed in his countenance: he rather believed in
his own cuteness, and thought he had found the solution of the puzzle.
"It was stupid of us," he said, "to forget that Gloy can take the water
like a sealkie. He would swim round the rocks till he reached an easy
landing-place. There are plenty quite near."
"Pirate was on guard," said Yaspard, "and would not have allowed him to
quit the geo unless I had given a word of command. Besides, Gloy let
us understand that he would not try to escape, and knew that I trusted
him, therefore took no further precautions."
"Perhaps a boat came by and picked him up," Lowrie answered, scratching
his head for some new ideas.
"Has any boat been near Boden voe to-day?"
"We have not seen any. I think faither wad have kent if any boat had
been this way, for he has gleg een in respect o' boats."
"There is only one boat he would have gone with, and that is the
_Laulie_," said Yaspard musingly. "Perhaps the Manse boys came after
us in real Viking fashion, and in that case----"
"Hi!" Gibbie exclaimed then, catching sight of Yaspard's fishing-rod,
stuck upright in the sand at the farther side of the geo. A bit of
white paper fluttering on top of the rod had drawn Gibbie's attention,
and he was not long in seizing upon this. It had been carefully tied
to the line and fastened on the rod, and when the paper was released
the three eagerly put their heads together to read what was written
inside.
In Gloy's cramped, unformed caligraphy was traced a few words,
mysterious, but, on the whole, reassuring.
"I'm all right. I haven't broken faith with you, and no more has
Pirate; but you need not be scared about me.--I am still THE PRISONER."
"Well, this beats everything!" Yaspard exclaimed then grasping Pirate
by his shaggy coat, he cried, "Oh, my dog, if you could speak English!
I believe you could if you tried. Tell us, Pirate, where has our
lawful captive gone?"
Pirate yelped and jumped around, then ran to the boat and looked
wistfully at his master as much as to say, "Why do you remain in such a
horrid hole? This is no place for you or me."
Interpreting his actions aright, the Viking said, "I suppose you are
about right, doggie; you've been here too long already, and there is
nothing to keep _us_ here any longer."
Considerably crestfallen and perplexed, they left the geo, and sailed
slowly up the voe once more, asking one another what was to be done
next.
"I suppose we must believe that Gloy is all right," said Lowrie, "so we
needn't concern ourselves about his life at the present time."
"He says he is still the prisoner," said Yaspard musingly; then after a
long pause he added, "Look here, boys, we might as well go on with this
night's performance as far as we can without our captive. We can
possess ourselves of his intended 'cell' (in spite of this horrid
'sell'), and we can make it ready for him as we intended, in the hope
that he will render himself into the hands of his conquerors as a true
knight should."
"All serene," was Lowrie's reply; and Gibbie added, "Just so."
So in the grey, quiet "dim" the _Osprey_ swept silently through the
Hoobes and brought up at the "dyke-end," where she had stopped in the
afternoon when Signy was the Viking's sole companion.
Yaspard alone jumped on shore. "Keep her off," he whispered, as if an
army of enemies were in ambush close by; "don't fasten her until I give
the signal that the coast is clear."
Having so given his orders, he set off up the hill, dodging behind turf
walls and creeping along knolls, so that no watchful eyes at
Trullyabister could detect his approach.
There is no real night in those regions when summer is in its prime,
therefore Yaspard's precautions were necessary if he required to steal
unawares upon the scene.
When within a short distance of the old house a backdoor suddenly
opened and fule-Tammy came out carrying a peat-keschie. He was going
to the stack for fuel, and the particular stack he meant to visit
happened to be the very object behind which Yaspard crouched.
"If," thought the boy, "he comes round _this_ end of the stack I'm done
for."
But Tammy didn't. He always attacked a peat-stack from the point
nearest the house, so he placed his keschie[1] at a convenient height
on the broken side of the stack, and lazily proceeded to fill it with
peats. Tammy had a habit, common in half-wits, of talking loudly to
himself, and as he filled his keschie he declaimed in Yaspard's
hearing--
"Na, na! I ken wha wad get the raiding-strake[2] if I was to gie them
the run o' the raubit-house; and where wad a' my night-sports be? and
what wad come o' the Trows if I let the boys rumble ower a'?"
As he piled the peats he went on talking in a disconnected, and to
Yaspard, very incomprehensible, manner about midnight revels and
strange beings who doubtless had a certain kind of existence in Tammy's
imagination. Only one thing he said attracted the boy's serious
attention, and remained in his recollection to throw light on future
events.
As Tammy raised the keschie to his shoulder he exclaimed in a kind of
exultation, "They think me a puir 'natural,' that can do nae gude to
man or beast, but for a' that it's myself that's pit mair light upon
wir isle as ever men and money will pit, though the Laird--puir
body--speaks aboot it evermair, and evermair will speak. Yea, yea!
puir Tammy and his pate-keschie does mair for ill-luckit, wandering
sea-folk than does the muckle kirk and the peerie[3] queen pit
together. And, though I say it that shouldna, puir Tammy kens when tae
wake and when tae sleep better than them that has their heads fu' o'
brains and books forby."
So maundering, Tammy returned to the house, and closed the back-door
behind him, and then Yaspard stole round to the uninhabited and ruined
portion of the house to reconnoitre.
When satisfied that the "coast was clear," he whistled softly in such
perfect imitation of a golden plover, that the Harrisons, waiting for
that same signal, were not quite sure that it was Yaspard, and no bird.
But when the wild musical notes had been repeated three distinct times,
they knew that it was their captain's call.
Fastening the boat to the dyke-end, they hastened to raise the
foot-boards and open lockers fore and aft. From these hiding-places
they took a curious assortment of articles--a blanket and towel, armour
in plenty, a knife, fork, plate, and mug; two candles, a box of
matches, and a basket of nondescript victuals. Stowing these into two
keschies brought for the purpose, they slung the baskets on to their
backs, and marched confidently up the hill, assured that Yaspard would
give the alarm if danger was to be apprehended.
They reached his side without any adventure, and then all three
clambered over the broken wall into what had been a goodly
apartment--now roofless and in ruin. At the farther end of this room
there was a low doorway, leading to a dark passage; and as Yaspard
walked boldly towards it Gibbie said in a frightened whisper, "No' that
way! surely no' _that_ way? Yon passage ends in the haunted room."
"The haunted room, you goose, is just the place that is to be our
captive's cell," replied the Viking.
"I thought ye meant _this_ room, or some other bit that's fallen tae
ruin," Gibbie muttered, and hesitating to follow the others, who went
boldly along the passage, intending to enter the haunted room by a
broken doorway of which Yaspard had been aware. His chagrin was great
to find that aperture closed by a number of stout boards nailed firmly
across it.
"What a bother! Now, I wonder why on earth this has been done?"
Yaspard exclaimed aloud, disappointment overcoming caution; but he was
recalled to the "position" on hearing some strange sounds on the other
side of the boarding, evidently provoked by his own unguarded tones.
The sounds were like a child's cry, blended with the sharp short
barking noise which is supposed to be the manner in which trows give
expression to their mirth; and these vocal utterances were supplemented
by a sound of scratching and thumping applied to the boards.
The boys retreated into the outer room, where Gilbert had remained. He
was leaning over the ruin, looking up at a window in the angle of the
wall, and when the others reached him he said in tones of fear, "Look!
there is a light in the haunted room!"
[1] A basket.
[2] "Raiding-strake," the final blow which clears up everything.
[3] "Peerie," little.