There was a heavy post one morning at breakfast, and as Mrs Fidler
glanced at the letters, she screwed up her face and turned her eyes upon
Tom, to shake her head as much as to say, "What work, what work!"
For to write a letter was a terrible effort to Mrs Fidler. She could
write a beautifully clear hand, as the names of the contents of her
jampots bore witness, but, as she confided to Tom, it was "such a job to
find the next word to set down."
One of the letters was so big and legal-looking in its broad blue
envelope, whose ragged edges told that it was lined with linen, that it
took Tom's eye at once; but Uncle Richard merely slit it open, peered
inside, and laid it beside his plate till the meal was at an end.
"I'm going up into the laboratory, Tom," he said then, and left the
room.
"That means he'd like me to go too," thought Tom, and in a minute or two
he followed, and caught sight of Pete at the end of the lane watching
him, with his dog at his heels, but only to turn off and walk away.
"Does that mean mischief?" thought Tom, as he went into the mill, and he
shook his head as he felt that Pete was a hopeless case.
To his surprise, on entering the laboratory, where Uncle Richard was
seated before the bureau with the great letter before him, he was
saluted with--
"I see there's your _protege_ Pete Warboys banging about again. He is
always watching this place, or waiting for you to go and play with him."
"You mean fight with him, uncle," said Tom dryly.
"Well, that does seem more in your way. Mr Maxted says you're winning
him over, but I doubt it."
"Yes, uncle, so do I," said Tom, smiling.
"I feel in doubt," continued Uncle Richard, "whether I ought not to have
tried to prove whether it was really he who helped to break in here.
But there: I only want to be left in peace, and a month's imprisonment
would do him harm, and bring out matters I want forgotten. Ever seen
these before?"
He drew some legal-looking documents from the big envelope and held them
out.
"The other papers that were stolen from that drawer, uncle?"
"Yes," said Uncle Richard, looking very stern as he took them back and
threw them into the receptacle, which he then locked up, and pocketed
his keys. "Which is it, Tom--repentance, or because they are of no use
to the thief?"
"Let's hope it is the first, uncle," replied Tom gravely, and his uncle
uttered a long, deep-toned--
"Hah!" Then, "Come along, and let's think of something pleasanter, my
boy."
They went up into the observatory, where the new diagonal mirror Tom had
ground and silvered was fitted into the telescope; and that night being
gloriously clear, the new addition was tested, and proved to be almost
perfect.
"As nearly perfect as we shall get it, Tom," said Uncle Richard; and
then till quite late a glorious evening was spent, searching the dark
depths of space for twin stars, Tom having a goodly share of the
observations; and when he was not using the glass making shift with the
star-finder, and listening the while to his uncle's comments upon that
which he saw.
The telescope was directed at the double star Castor; which, with
Pollux, was glittering brightly in the black-looking sky, when Uncle
Richard made way for the boy to take his place.
"Wonderfully clear, uncle."
"But do you notice anything particular?"
"Yes; I was going to say, it's like it is sometimes when the moon is
low-down; the air seems to be all in a quiver."
"That is so, Tom. People don't, as a rule, think that they can see the
atmosphere, but you can see it to-night all in motion. I think it means
wind."
"Wind blowing hard a very long way up?"
"Yes, I think so."
"Oh!" ejaculated Tom.
"What's the matter?"
"It was so sudden. A cloud has swept right across."
Uncle Richard stepped up to the opening, and looked out into the night.
"Yes," he said, "we may shut up for the night; there's a dense black
curtain of clouds drawing across the sky. Come and look. Ah! how
brilliant!"
Tom started. He had just taken his eye from the great glass, when the
interior of the observatory was lit up for an instant by a flash of
lightning, and as soon as his dazzled eyes mastered the intense darkness
which followed, he joined his uncle, and looked out of the great shutter
opening, to see the singular sight, of one-half of the heavens
brilliantly illuminated with the countless orbs, while the Milky Way was
clearly defined; the other of an inky blackness, moving steadily,
cutting off star after star, till two-thirds of the sky was darkened,
and in half-an-hour, when the shutter was drawn over and fastened, not a
star was to be seen.
"We are going to have a wild night, Tom, I think," said Uncle Richard;
and as he spoke there was a rumbling noise amongst the woodwork
overhead, caused by a passing blast. "There, let's go in."
Coffee was waiting when they went in, after leaving all safe, and very
welcome, for they were both shivering. Soon after bed was sought, and
Tom dropped into a deep sleep, from which he was roused by a rattling at
his door, while some one else seemed to be shaking his window. Then
there was a rumble like thunder in the chimney, and the beating at the
door.
"Tom! wake up, lad!"
"Yes! All right!" cried the boy, springing out of bed. "Anything the
matter, uncle?"
"Yes. Terrible storm. The big shutter has been torn open, and is
beating about on the top of the mill."
"All right; I'll go and fasten it," cried Tom, beginning to dress
rapidly, and waking up more and more to the fact that a wild storm was
raging. Every now and then, after a great deal of shrieking and
howling, as if the wind was forcing itself through crack and cranny,
there came a loud heavy bass booming sound, as a vast wave of air broke
upon the house, making the windows seem to be on the point of falling
in, while the slates upon the roof clattered and the chimneys shook.
"My word, it blows!" muttered Tom, as he buttoned up his jacket tightly,
and hurried down-stairs, to find that there were lights in the kitchen
and dining-room, while in the hall stood Mrs Fidler, in a wonderful
costume of dressing-gown, shawl, and night-cap.
"What a storm, my dear!" she said.
"You up?"
"Oh yes, my dear; it was impossible to lie. I've lit the kitchen fire,
for poor cook is in hysterics, and Maria is sobbing and crying--quite
helpless."
"How silly!" muttered Tom. "Where's uncle?"
"Here I am. Ready?"
For Uncle Richard appeared with a ready-lit lantern and the keys.
"We shall have to go out by the front door, Tom; the wind's worse on the
other side of the house."
"I'm ready, uncle."
"Pray take care, sir," said Mrs Fidler. "If one of the sails of that
mill is blown off--oh, dear, dear, what am I thinking about?"
"What indeed, Mrs Fidler! Be ready to close the door after us, for the
wind has tremendous force.--Come along, Tom."
He led the way, opened the door, and the wind rushed in, banging others,
setting pictures swinging, whisking a couple of hats off their pegs, and
rushing up into the house with a roar.
Mrs Fidler strove to close the door as they passed out, but failed, and
Tom had to help, holding on by the handle, and dragging the door to.
Outside, the evergreens were beaten down, and the loose strands of the
different creepers were flogging wall and trellis-work in a way which
forbode destruction to both tree and trellis. Twice over Tom had to
turn his back to get his breath, and in the darkness he could see the
ornamental conifers of the garden bent over like grass; while from a
short distance away, where the pine-wood commenced, there was a
tremendous roar, as of breakers during a storm. Fir-trees in a soft
breeze murmur like the sea; in a gale the resemblance is startling.
Half-way to the yard gate Tom was caught by a sudden blast, buffeted,
and, staggering hard, had again to turn his back before he could get his
breath; while as the gate was reached, another blast caught the lantern,
swung it against the post, the glass was broken, and _puff_, the light
went out.
"We must go back," said Uncle Richard, with his lips close to Tom's ear.
"No, all right; there's a box of matches in the table-drawer up-stairs."
They pushed on, Tom closing the gate, which was nearly torn from his
hand, while, as they ascended to the mill, the wind came with redoubled
violence, and they had quite a struggle to get, to the door.
"It is terrible," panted Uncle Richard, as soon as they were inside with
the door closed, and the wind shrieking and roaring around the tall
building as if seeking to sweep it away.
They mounted in profound darkness to the laboratory, where the matches
were found, and all the time the trap-door overhead was being lifted a
few inches every minute, and fell with a clap, while the shrieking of
the wind, and the rattling and banging of the woodwork in the
observatory, sounded ominous of danger to the work of many, many months.
"Time we came, Tom," said Uncle Richard grimly, as the lantern was lit,
and the broken pane replaced by the covers torn from an old book just
about the size.
"Yes, quite," replied Tom. "Come on."
He stepped quickly to the ladder-like stairs, sprang up, threw open the
trap-door, and was about to enter the room, when the trap-door was flung
back upon him violently.
"Hurt?" shouted Uncle Richard.
"Yes; not much," cried Tom, and thrusting the trap-door open again, he
forced it back, and, aware now of the danger, held it firmly as he got
up; and then, while his uncle followed with the light, closing it again
directly and securing it with a bolt.
Tom's heart beat as the dim light of the lantern was thrown upon the
great telescope, for fear that it should have met with injury, but to
his great delight the top was directed right away from the open shutter,
which now gave evidence of its loose state by yielding to the pressure
of the wind, and giving a tremendous bang.
"Now, Tom, how are we to stop that?" shouted Uncle Richard, for the roar
through the opening, mingled with hissing and shrieking, was deafening.
"Don't know," yelled the boy, as he crept to the opening and found that
the wind had wrenched it open, and turned it right over upon the roof.
"Must do something," he shouted again, as he drew in his head.
"If we don't the wind will end by lifting off this roof, and destroying
my glass."
"Cord's broke," said Tom in a momentary lull of the wind. Then the roar
began again, and the building quivered, while the shutter was lifted and
beaten down again with a bang.
Then, from somewhere out in the darkness, came a tremendous roaring
crash, apparently very near.
"What's that?" cried Tom; "house blown down?"
"One of the big elms on the green for certain. Hark!"
Tom was hearkening, for directly after there was another crash, and
another.
"No doubt about it," said Uncle Richard. "One has struck the other, and
the great elms have gone down like skittles."
"There goes another," cried Tom, as there was a fresh crash, which
sounded louder than either of those which preceded it. "But I don't
want our observatory to go, uncle. You put the light down on the other
side, where it'll be sheltered from the wind, and I'll get out into the
gallery and try if I can drag the shutter over, and then we must nail it
in its place."
"Impossible, my lad. You could not stand out there without being blown
off."
"But I must, uncle.--If the wind comes in--"
_Whoo_!
A tremendous squall struck the place, the shutter banged, the wooden
dome roof rattled, and in the midst of the deafening din the wind drove
in upon them with such force that they felt as if in the open air, and
believed for the time that the round wooden top had been lifted off to
go sailing away.
"That was a rum one, uncle," cried Tom breathlessly. "Now then, I must
go, before another comes."
"No, no, my lad; life is of more consequence than observatories; it is
not safe for you to go."
"But I shall be all right if you hold me tightly," cried Tom. "Come
on."
Uncle Richard gave way, and took a firm grip of the boy's jacket as he
climbed out through the shutter opening into the little gallery, where
he reached over to get to the far edge of the shutter, to draw it to
him, but the next moment he had crouched down and held on for dear life.
For, as if the storm had pounced upon him to tear him off the high
building and sweep him away, down came the wind with a savage roar, and
when for a few moments there was a slight lull, Tom yielded to the drag
put on him by his uncle, and half climbed, half allowed himself to be
lifted into the observatory.
"I never thought the wind could be so strong," he panted breathlessly.
"It is terrible to-night. I must go myself."
"You--uncle? Why, the place would hardly bear a man of your weight, and
I couldn't hold you up if you slipped."
"Could you reach the edge of the shutter?"
"No, uncle, not by far enough."
"That was as far as I could reach, too. We must give it up and risk
everything."
Tom gave his uncle a droll look, the light from the lantern shining
dimly on his face.
"We can't give it up, uncle. I'll try again when the wind is not so
strong."
"But you could not reach, boy, and I dare not loose my hold even for a
minute."
"'Tis awkward," shouted Tom; "but we must do something. Stop a minute:
I know. Rope."
"Yes, of course, the new strong rope in the bottom of the tool-chest."
Tom took the lantern, and as his uncle held up the trap-door, the boy
went down, to return in two or three minutes with a small coil of thin,
thoroughly trustworthy new rope, and a hammer and some strong nails; and
as soon as the lantern and trap-door were secured, he began to knot the
rope round his waist.
"I don't like letting you go, Tom," said Uncle Richard, with his lips to
the boy's ear.
"And I don't like to go, uncle; but this knot can't slip, and you won't
loose me."
"No; you may depend upon that, my lad."
"Very well, then: look here. I've brought the hammer and some nails.
We can't fasten the shutter safely here, it would only break away
again."
"Then it is of no use, boy; we must let the place take its chance."
"We won't, uncle," screamed Tom, to make himself heard. "Look here: I
know. Where I touched the nearest corner of the shutter it's
broken-away, so I shall get out in the gallery, turn it over into its
place, and nail it down from outside."
"Are you mad?" cried Uncle Richard. "How are you going to get in?"
"Shan't get in. You'll let me down outside."
"Absurd, boy! The rope would be shut in the door, even if I would
harbour such a wild scheme for a moment."
"No, it wouldn't," shouted Tom; "the rope would run through the
broken-away corner."
"Nonsense, it is impossible. The place must go."
_Whoo_! came the wind again; and once more it seemed as if the roof was
to be lifted off like a gigantic umbrella, and carried far away by the
storm.
"I must go and do it," cried Tom.
"_No_, _no_, _no_!" shouted Uncle Richard. "Let's go down--we may be
hurt."
"Uncle, the telescope!--all our work! Oh, I can't come away."
"But it is risking your life, boy."
"'Tisn't, uncle," cried Tom desperately. "You can hold me tightly with
the rope. I should put some nails in my pocket--so, and stick the
hammer handle down inside my jacket--so, and then climb out quickly
while you held tightly by the rope, and--Just like this, uncle."
And before he could be checked, Tom stepped to the opening, and with the
rapidity born of habit lifted himself out, and then holding on by the
sill, lowered his legs into the little gallery.
Uncle Richard darted forward to seize him, but another terrific blast
struck the mill, pinning Tom against the woodwork, and literally driving
his uncle back from the opening, while the telescope swung round upon
its pivot, and various objects were blown to the far side.
For the full space of a minute it seemed as if the dome-like roof must
be torn off, while, to add to the confusion and horror, the lantern was
blown over and went out, leaving them in utter darkness.
At last, when the strength of the squall was partly spent, Uncle
Richard, as he held on by the rope, shouted to Tom to come back; but in
his excitement the boy heard nothing. He gave a fierce drag at the
rope, crept sidewise beneath the shutter, and exerting all his strength
tried to turn it over upon its hinges. But each effort was in vain, for
the wind pressed it down.
"I can't do it--I can't do it," he panted, as, pressing his feet against
the rail of the gallery, he heaved and heaved with all his might, but
only succeeded in getting his arms underneath a little.
Then the rope was dragged fiercely, and his uncle's voice came through
the opening overhead and to his left, but only in a confused murmur,
though he felt what must be said; and in despair he was dragging out his
hands, for the wind roared louder than ever, pressing him down against
the structure with tremendous force. But all at once his hands were set
free, for the slight raising of the shutter had been sufficient for the
wind to get beneath, and with a rush it was swept by his face, just
grazing his chin. There was a tremendous clap, and it was closed, while
the boy thought of nothing but holding on as the wind once again pressed
him against the building.
And now for a few moments he lost nerve, and clung desperately, feeling
as if he must be plucked from his feeble hold and dashed down into the
yard. Hammer and nails were forgotten, and he pressed his forehead
against the woodwork, while the confusion caused by the roaring of the
wind seemed to increase.
Then it was as if a great nerve communicating with safety had been
touched, for he felt the rope jerked along sidewise, till it was in the
jagged opening at the bottom left-hand corner of the broken shutter.
The feeling was electric, and sent a thrill through the boy.
"I'm all right, I can't fall," he muttered; and dragging out the hammer
by its head, he felt for the first nail, then ran his hand up the side
of the shutter for some distance, judged what would be a fair position
for the nail, tapped it in a little way, and then began to drive with
vigorous strokes, sometimes missing in the darkness, but nearly always
getting good blows on the nail-head, and at last feeling that it was
well home.
All this while he felt himself held tightly to the woodwork by the
strain upon the cord, and the pressure of the wind:
Getting out another nail, he drove that in a foot lower, close to his
chest; another minute, and a third nail was driven home, the exertion
and excitement of doing something effectual driving away all thought of
danger.
Then jerking the rope a little so as to get more freedom he stood well
up, reached as high as possible, and drove in several more nails, and
reached over to the other edge of the shutter, where he drove in a
couple between the hinges, in case they should be wrenched.
"That must be safe now," he said to himself, as he lowered himself down
to a kneeling position in the gallery, the rope being tightened as he
did so, yielding at first, but drawing as if it were made of indiarubber
instead of the best hemp.
And now once more Tom felt a sensation of shrinking, for the time had
come for his descent, which seemed very easy to talk about in the
observatory, but very difficult to perform with the wind blowing a
hurricane, and all around him a darkness so thick that it was like that
of old--a darkness to be felt.
"But the telescope's right," thought Tom, "and the roofs safe;" and
getting his lips to the broken opening, he yelled out, doubtful whether
his words would be heard in the midst of that bewildering noise--"All
right, uncle; lower away!"
He had thrust the hammer back inside his jacket, and now gave the rope a
snatch, feeling it yield gently and steadily, as he rose and tried the
knot with both hands, but had to thrust them out again to save himself
from being dashed against the building, so fierce a squall once more
struck him from behind.
The next instant he was once more pinned against the place, and held by
the rope as well. This gave him renewed confidence.
"Uncle is on the look-out," he muttered; and as soon as the worst
pressure of the wind was over, he once more shouted through the opening,
and losing no time, laid hold of the rail with both hands, resting his
chest upon it, raised his legs horizontally, allowed them to drop down,
and hung by his arms and the cord; then, as the rope gave, by his hands,
and the next minute by the rope, which glided over the rail slowly, and
then stopped short, leaving him swinging with his face level with the
flooring, and swinging to and fro.
_Whoosh_! came the wind again, making him lose his hold of the rope and
catch at the floor of the gallery, into which he drove his finger-nails
for a moment, but only to have them wrenched away, as the wind shrieked
and yelled in his ears, and turned him right round and round rapidly
like an over-roasted joint.
"Lower away, uncle, lower away!" he shouted; but he might just as well
have spared his voice, for not a word could by any possibility have been
heard in the observatory, the wind sweeping breath and sound away, and
nearly strangling him when he faced it.
Twice over he got a grip of the edge of the gallery, but only to be
snatched away again and swung to and fro.
"Why don't you lower away? Quick! quick!" he shrieked out; and as if in
response, he descended three or four feet, and then a couple more in
little painful jerks. Then the rope stopped; the wind dashed at him,
and he was swung to and fro and round and round like a feather. Now his
feet touched the bricks of the mill, then he was far away again, for the
rail over which the rope passed projected fully four feet from the top.
He was more and more bewildered; the rope cut into his chest, in spite
of his seizing it and holding it with both hands, but only to let go
again to stretch them out in the darkness, as he was swung about by the
gale, for he was seized now by a dread that he would be dashed heavily
against the wall.
Once more he was in motion in jerks, but only for a foot or two, and
then the horror of being dashed against the wall grew worse, for the
greater length of rope gave the wind more power to swing him violently
to and fro.
"Why doesn't he let me down?" thought Tom, with a fierce feeling of
anger rising against his uncle; but that was only momentary, for a fresh
dread assailed Tom--he was certain that he had felt the knot of the rope
crawling as it were upon his breast, which he knew must mean its giving
way, and with a frantic dash he flung up his hands to grasp the cord
high up once more.
"Could he climb back into the gallery?"
He tried, but his strength was failing, and after three or four efforts
he gave it up, to hang there inert, certain that the rope was nearly
undone, and that as soon as his grasp failed upon the thin cord, which
could not be long, down he must go, fully five-and-twenty feet--a
distance which the horror and darkness and agony made ten times as
terrible as it really was, though it would have been bad enough if half.
And all the while the wind raved and roared and tossed him about till he
was giddy, and rapidly losing consciousness; twice over he banged
heavily against the wall, though for the most part he was swung to and
fro parallel to the little gallery. Then a horrible feeling of sickness
attacked him, his hands fell to his sides, his head drooped, but the
next moment he felt himself reviving, for he was gliding rapidly down;
his feet touched the bottom, the rope slackened, then tightened,
slackened again, and fell at his feet; while by the time he had
staggered to the door, round at the other side of the building, trailing
the rope after him like an elongated tail, and holding his painful chest
with his hands, that door was opened, and he staggered into his uncle's
arms.
"Well done, my brave lad!" cried Uncle Richard in the comparative
silence of the workshop; but Tom could not answer.
"What is it? You are not hurt?"
There was no reply, only a feeble gasp or two, and in his horror his
uncle gave him a rough shake, but directly after felt in the darkness
for the rope, and rapidly untied it.
"Speak, my boy, if you can," cried Uncle Richard then. "You are not
hurt?"
"No; I'm going to be all right now, I think," said Tom hoarsely. Then
in quite a fierce way he grasped at his uncle's arm. "Why didn't you
lower me down?" he cried.
"I couldn't, boy. It was all in the dark, and the rope kept getting
wedged by the broken wood. I was afraid to use violence for fear of
breaking it, or ravelling it through. Let me help you back into the
house. You've saved the roof of the mill."
"Think so?" said Tom huskily.
"Yes, more, Tom--sure," cried his uncle, jerking the rope into a corner,
and re-opening the door.
"Think the light's quite out?"
"Yes, certain," cried Uncle Richard; and banging to and locking the
door, he caught hold of Tom's arm.
"I'm all right now," said the boy; and they hurried back into the house,
securing gates as they went, to find Mrs Fidler looking whiter than
ever; and quite tearful as she exclaimed--
"Oh dear! I was afraid something dreadful had happened. Do pray sit
down and have a cup of tea, sir."
They did, and with the storm increasing in violence, Tom went up once
more to his room, to lie down in his clothes, and listen to the raging
wind, and the sounds which told from time to time of destruction to
tile, chimney-pot, or tree.
At least he meant to do this, but in ten minutes or so the sound of the
wind had lulled him to sleep, and he did not open his eyes again till
morning, to find the storm dropped and the sun shining brightly.