Night at The Foreland--and a dark night; the moon not due for hours, and
when she rose not likely to be seen for the heavy clouds which blotted
out the stars. Lights were out in the great building, which stood up by
day gloomy, many-windowed, and forbidding on the huge promontory,
crossed by wall and works, and with sentries between the convict
establishment and the mainland. The other three sides had the waves,
which washed the nearly perpendicular precipices, for warders, and it
was only here and there that an active man well acquainted with the
cliffs could descend to the sea, and such an acquaintanceship was not
likely to be made by the wretched men marched out, fettered and guarded,
to the great quarries day after day, and then carefully watched back to
their cells.
At times the sentinel duty outside the building could easily be relaxed
on the sea side, for the billows came thundering in, smiting the
polished rocks and flying high in air with a deafening din; but on a
calm, warm, dark night, when it was possible for a boat to approach
close in, a stricter watch was kept, lest one of the more hardened
prisoners should contrive to elude the vigilance within the buildings
and make a desperate effort to win his freedom.
But, as a rule, attempts at evasion were made when the men were marched
out to the quarries, when a dash would be made during a sea fog, or a
convict would crawl into some hollow among the freshly hewn stones, and
lie there, hoping not to be missed till he had made good his escape.
On this particular night a young member of the warder guard stood, rifle
on shoulder, looking out to sea from the mere shelf of level rock near
the top of the cliff.
A great steamer was making her way down channel, and her lights shone
like stars away on the black waters.
"West Indy or South America; and a Dutch boat, I should say," muttered
the sentry; and he turned his eyes to where, well up under the shelter
of the great promontory, the lights of several vessels showed where they
lay at anchor.
"This is a miserable dog's life," muttered the man, "and I get precious
sick of it, but I think I'd rather be here than there. One can feel
bottom and be safe--sailors can't. That one nighest in is the little
man-o'-war, I suppose, and yon's the big one. How dark it is!"
He stood there trying to pierce the blackness, out of which the anchor
lights of the ships stood like stars, but he could see nothing save a
faint bluish-greeny gleam now and then far below, where the
phosphorescence of the sea washed gently, like so much luminous oil,
over the bases of the cliffs and played among the masses of seaweed
lying awash.
"How unked the sea is of a dark night. Fancy going sailing right away
yonder, not knowing what you may hit upon next. Shore's good enough for
me, even if it's being at Foreland convict prison, with a day out now
and then."
He turned his face shoreward, looking across the bay, dotted with faint
lights, to where the red lamps of the harbour shone out with their lurid
glow.
"That's better," he said as he followed the curve of the shore, with the
faint golden gleam sent up by the gas lamps which dotted the bow like so
many bright beads strung along the shore, on and on by the line of
houses facing the sea front, till they ran out for a short distance to
sea, and ended in quite a cluster, out of which flashed one with a
bluish glare, whose rays cut the darkness, for it was the electric light
at the end of the pier.
"Band's playing," said the man, listening intently; but the distance
across the curve to the town pier was too great, and he could make out
nothing but a stray note of a cornet now and then.
"Come, play up louder, old man; can't hear. Nothing like a bit of music
now and then. That's one good in being a soldier: you do have a band,
while we poor beggars have to carry a rifle without. But there, a man
can drop this when he likes, and a soldier can't."
He took a turn or two up and down, and stopped again to look up the
steep cliff slope running high above him from the shelf on which his
duty lay, this being over one of the spots where it would be possible
for a daring cragsman to get down to the sea.
"Shouldn't mind a glass of beer," he thought. "Salt in the air, I
suppose. Well, I can get that by and by. Lord, what's a fellow got to
grumble about? How would it be to do one's bit inside! Some of 'em
pays pretty dear for their little games, and one can't help feeling
sorry for one now and then. Bah! lot's of 'em are best there. They'd
think no more of coming behind me in the dark and chucking me into the
sea than kissing their hands. Ugh!" he ejaculated, with a shudder, as
he gripped his piece more tightly, and gave a sharp glance; round and up
above him at the black crags. "What a fool I am to think of such
things, only a chap can't help it in such a lonesome place. Well, one
side is safe," he muttered, with a half laugh. "So are the others,
stupid poor devils! Not much chance for any of them coming out for a
quiet pipe to-night."
A faint note or two from the distant band on the pier, floated to the
warder, and he went on musing:
"Now, I dessay if I was over yonder having a smoke and listening to that
music I should think nothing of it, and be for getting back somewhere to
have a bit o' supper; but because I'm here and can't get near it every
tootle of that old cornet sounds 'eavenly; and the lights seem grand.
It was just the same down at home; there was our big old apple tree, the
Gennet-Moyle, as I could get up when I liked, or knock as many down as I
pleased with mother's clothes props--good apples they was, too; but they
wouldn't do--one always wanted to get over Thompson's walls to smug
those old hard baking pears, which was like nibbling the knobs off the
top of the bedposts."
He laughed until his shoulders shook.
"Poor old Thompson!" he said half aloud. "Said he'd have some of us put
in prison for stealing. Wonder whether some of these poor beggars began
that way and then went on. Humph! maybe. Well, they should have known
better."
He continued his march up and down for a while, and then stopped once
more, grounded his piece, and stood there quite invisible to anyone a
few yards away. He went on thinking about the town at the head of the
bay, and the music, and of how time was going; and then his thoughts
went back to the great body of dangerous criminals shut up in the huge,
grim buildings, and of how much depended on the care and diligence of
those in charge--a mere handful compared to those they guarded.
"Only we've got the law on our side and they haven't," he thought; and
as the thought ran through his brain he felt the blood pulsate sharply
and there was a heavy throb at his heart, for there was a peculiar sound
away to his right, high up the steep slope of the cliff, as if a stone
had been dislodged and had slipped down a few yards before stopping in a
cleft. He stood listening intently, but the sound was not repeated--all
was still as death; but the man's pulses had been stirred, and his heart
beat in a manner that was painful.
It was not that he was particularly wanting in courage, but, shut in
there by the darkness, it was impossible to keep back the thought that a
desperate man who had stolen out or hidden might be lurking close by
ready to spring upon him in an unguarded moment, drive him off the cliff
shelf which formed his beat, and all would be over in an instant. For a
fall there meant death by drowning or the fearful crash on to the rocks
below.
"They shan't take me unawares," he thought, and then he hesitated as to
whether he should give the alarm by firing his piece.
In an instant he had raised it and his finger was on the trigger, but he
did not make its flash cut the darkness for a moment and its report run
re-echoing along the cliffs.
"What for?" he said to himself; "bring the fellows here to laugh at me
because I heard a rabbit on the move. I should never hear the last of
it."
He again grounded his piece, but very softly, and stood with his back to
the sea, straining his eyes in the direction from whence the sound had
come, but the stones that towered up were all blurred together into one
black mass, and though he fancied several times over that he could make
out the figure of a man half-hidden by some projection, he was fain to
confess directly after that it was all fancy.
"But fancy or not," he said to himself, "I don't mean to be taken on the
grand hop,"--and he did not stir from his position where he stood on the
very edge of the cliff shelf, but kept on glancing to right and left
along the stone path, and sweeping the slope in front.
Ten minutes passed like this--ten long-drawn intervals of time--and then
the man threw up his rifle and stood ready, fully expecting an attack,
certain now that there had been good reason for the dislodgement of the
stone. For from high up on the top of one of the ranges of prison
buildings a sound rang out which sent a thrill through the watcher's
nerves.
It was the alarm bell, which might mean the escape of prisoners or an
attack from a deadly enemy; but it could not be the latter, for there
was no reflection of a fire.
"Now for it!" muttered the man, with his finger on the trigger, prepared
for the rush of a man or men, and he thought over the formula he must
utter before he fired.
"I don't want to hurt anybody," he said softly, "but no one shall drive
me over without getting something first. It's that Ratcliff Highway
chap at his games again. I wish they'd hang him or send him somewhere
else."
And he thought of a warder who had been disabled for life, and another
who was absent twelve months, both from injuries inflicted by a savage
brute whom all the men feared.
Another instant and all doubts were at an end, for there was a bright
flash, and directly after the heavy, reverberating roar of a gun.
"Sharp's the word!" said the man softly as, taught by training, his
fingers involuntarily drew forth aloud clicking from the lock of the
piece he held; and as he stood there, breathing hard, every nerve and
muscle was on the strain, for he could hear steps coming rapidly in his
direction, and they must pass him--there was no other way; and it meant
a desperate attack made by men armed with hammers and bars, perhaps only
stones, and on the warder's part duty and self defence.
"Someone's number crossed out," he muttered fiercely, for there was no
feeling of dread now.
Then a change came over him as, with an intense feeling of satisfaction,
he grasped the fact that the measured beat of feet was that of their
more disciplined men.
He challenged, and there was the reassuring response.
"Anyone been this way?" cried a sergeant breathlessly as he halted four
men.
"No."
"Three of 'em got out and half killed two warders. They came along
here, we think."
"Nobody been this way."
"Keep a sharp lookout, then. We're going on. Challenge, of course, but
if they don't stand let them have it. They won't spare you. Ready,
there; we'll go on to the next post, and come back directly."
"Stop!" said the sentry huskily; "I thought I heard a stone roll down
from up yonder a few minutes ago."
"They are there, then," cried the sergeant, "safe enough. Now, then,"
he shouted; "the game's up, my lads. Give in. No stones, or I'll give
orders to fire. Ready, there; present!"
There was a dead silence.
"Nobody could get over the cliff here," growled one of the men.
"Monkeys might, perhaps."
"Silence!" cried the sergeant. "They must be there. Now, then, will
you come down, or are we to pick you off?"
"Hush! What's that?"
The unmistakable rattling of stones and a scrambling sound as if someone
had slipped.
"Hah! that's good enough. Now, then, is it surrender?"
Silence again, and the darkness in front blacker than ever.
"You will have it, then," cried the sergeant. "One and four, a dozen
paces right and left."
The evolution was performed, and then with a man on each side of him the
sergeant once more shouted to the convicts to give in.
"Hi, look out!" roared one of the warders.
"In the queen's name, surrend--"
A dull, heavy blow, and a groan were heard almost together, cutting
short the sergeant's challenge, for a heavy piece of rock struck him
full in the face, while a couple more blocks whizzed by the others, to
fall heavily far below where they stood. Simultaneously three dark
figures bounded on to the edge and made at the little group.
The attack was so sudden and direful in its results that the warders
gave way right and left, while the convicts stooped, literally glided
over the edge of the path, and began to descend the horribly steep
cliff.
"Don't keep together," cried a hoarse voice from below. "Every man for
himself now."
"Fire!" shouted one of the warders; and almost together three rifles
flashed out their contents, followed by a derisive laugh.
Then the warder who had been ordered off to the right fired, and as the
shot echoed along the cliff there was a terrible cry, followed by a rush
as of something falling.
"Now, then, surrender!" cried one of the warders, who was reloading
rapidly, just as rapid steps were heard coming along the path.
"Where are they?" shouted an authoritative voice as ten or a dozen more
men were now halted on the shelf-like path.
"Right below here, sir. One of 'em down."
"Halt, there! Do you hear, men? Surrender at once; you can't escape."
No reply, but those above could hear the scuffling noise of those
descending and the rattle of a heavy stone, followed by a dull plunge.
"Your blood be on your own heads, then," said the officer who had now
come up. "Once more: in the queen's name, surrender!"
No answer, but the hurried rustle of the descending fugitives.
Sharp orders were given, and then came the fatal word:
"Fire!"
Several rifles rattled out their deadly challenge now, and as the
warders peered over into the darkness, up through the heavy smoke came a
peculiar snarl, more like the cry of a savage beast than the utterance
of a human throat, while directly after, sending a thrill of horror
through the men who were looking down, there was the sound of the heavy
plunge as of something falling from a great height into the sea.
Then silence, save that the heavy breathing of the warders was audible
as they listened for the cry, "Help!" which they expected to hear from
the water when the wounded man rose to the surface, not one of the guard
daring in his own mind to think upon either of the shots fired as being
fatal.
At that moment there was a flash from off the sea a quarter of a mile
away, and a few moments later another glare, both sending a brilliant
path of light across the smooth water. And now, plainly seen in the
midst of a bluish halo on the black night, there stood out the rigging
and hull of a ship, with figures moving here and there; two boats were
lowered down, and directly after the water flashed and sparkled as oars
were dipped, and the man-of-war cutters, with their armed crews, were
rowed in toward the rocks.
By this time there were fresh arrivals on the cliff path, the firing
having drawn there men bearing lanterns, and the officer in charge
shouted:
"Got them?"
"No, sir," said the first officer respectfully. "Sergeant Liss is down
badly hurt with a stone, and Raddon's shoulder is hurt."
"But the prisoners, man?" cried the newcomer, evidently one high in
authority.
"I'm afraid, sir--"
"The prisoners?"
"Below here somewhere, sir--two of them."
"Yes, and the other?"
"We were obliged to fire, sir, and there was a cry, and we heard one
fall into the sea."