THE LAST OF THE "TRUE BLUE."
Under the guidance of Lewis, who acted as pilot, we must have turned
down a lane before reaching Tod's Corner, and on leaving the main road
our two large lamps were promptly extinguished. The wonder was that
the cumbrous vehicle was not overturned twenty times in the first mile.
Any ordinary driver might have refused to make the attempt in broad
daylight, and on a dark night it needed skill as well as courage, both
of which, however, Rodwood seemed to possess in a marked degree. I
heard afterwards that in his palmy days he had owned and driven a coach
of his own, which no doubt accounted for the masterly way in which he
handled the ribbons.
The hour would now have been considered late by country people. There
was little chance of any one being about; the chief risk, and that a
remote one, lay in the possibility of encountering and being challenged
by a "riding officer," a branch of the preventive service whose duty it
was during the night to patrol and examine lanes and byroads near the
coast, and thus hamper the movements of the smugglers on shore. Though
I did not know it till later, this chance of being stopped had been
discussed by Lewis and the leader of the gang, who, in the event of
such a thing taking place, was fully prepared to resort to desperate
measures, and drove with a pistol ready cocked lying on the seat by his
side.
On and on we went, jolting and lurching like a fishing-smack in a
choppy sea. There was no singing now; the men, as might have been
expected, were watchful, and intent on making good their escape. The
coach's disappearance from the highroad might not be discovered for
some hours yet; on the other hand, any belated farm-labourer, hearing
or seeing us as we lumbered past in the darkness, would surely guess
that something unusual was happening, and might raise an alarm.
It is difficult for me to recall my own personal feelings at this stage
of the adventure. I think I had too much confidence in the good will
shown by Lewis and the other men whom we had in a small way befriended
to feel really afraid. I was chiefly curious to know where the
hiding-place existed in which we should be so securely stowed. Perhaps
it was some secret loft or cellar, many of which Miles had declared
existed at Rockymouth. Here we should no doubt lie till the following
evening, when the convicts would continue their escape by land or
water, and George Woodley and I would be set free.
How long we continued jogging onward at a walking pace I cannot say; we
should certainly have been overturned had we attempted to go faster,
and even at that slow rate it seemed to me that we must have gone miles
beyond our destination, and possibly have travelled far along some
byroad running parallel with the coast. Then suddenly the coach
stopped; there was a murmur of conversation, and we heard the men
clambering down from the roof.
A moment later the door was opened, and a voice ordered us to
dismount--a feat which it was not altogether easy for Woodley and me to
accomplish, still fettered as we were, wrist to wrist. The moment I
was outside the vehicle the fresh salt breath of the sea saluted my
cheeks and nostrils. We stood on the high ground above Rockymouth, and
the narrow lane along which we had come now emerged from between high
hedges and cultivated ground, and crossed a stretch of open common or
moorland. A mile distant, and far beneath us, the little haven
snuggled down in the sheltering valley, the only sign of its existence
being one tiny point of light from some cottage window where perhaps
watchers sat beside a sickbed.
The last of the outside passengers was helped down from the roof as
though he had suffered some injury and was partially disabled. I could
not see clearly enough to distinguish what was really the matter with
him, but I noticed that in all his subsequent movements he seemed to be
led or supported by one of his companions.
By mutual consent the men gathered round us in a group, while the tired
horses shook their heads and champed their bits. There we stood, a
strange company, and in the silence, broken only by their heavy
breathing, a feeling of apprehension began to take hold of me, and I
wondered what would happen next.
"What's the time?" demanded Rodwood abruptly. "The guard's got a
watch; just have a look, some of you."
The "flink" of a flint and steel was sufficient to show the position of
the hands on the broad face of the old-fashioned timepiece, and a voice
murmured, "Close on ten."
"Well, boys," began Rodwood, "the first question is, What's to be done
with the coach? We can't go to sea in her; and if we leave her here,
it's as good as giving the whole countryside information as to our
whereabouts."
For a moment there was a silence. A coach and four is not a thing that
can be hidden away in the nearest hedgerow, and hitherto the convicts
had regarded it merely as a means of escape. At length the man named
Nat, who had ridden inside as our guard, spoke up. He had struck me
all along as a reckless rascal, and his suggestion certainly confirmed
the opinion I had formed.
"Why not send her over the cliffs?" he asked. "No chance of her being
found then. I know this coast--a sheer drop into the water in most
places. The horses can be turned loose on the common, and I don't
suppose they'll be noticed for a day or so. Even when they are found,
no one can say very well where they come from."
This outrageous proposal seemed to appeal to the leader of the gang.
"Bravo!" he exclaimed. "Come on, my lads! Where's the 'free trader'?
He'll show the way."
The idea of the old _True Blue_ being wantonly hurled over the cliffs
into the sea was too much for poor George Woodley. He burst out into a
torrent of angry expostulations, but was promptly silenced by Rodwood,
who flourished a pistol in his face, at the same time bidding him hold
his tongue unless he wished to follow the coach on its last journey.
With Lewis and Rodwood in front, two men leading the horses, and the
rest of the party, George and myself included, following behind in a
sort of funeral procession, we went stumbling across the common. Once
I thought I heard Lewis expressing some dislike to the business in
hand, but his objections, if such they were, were speedily overridden.
Rodwood was beginning to feel his feet more as leader of the party, and
enforced obedience to his commands with a swagger and bluster which was
well calculated to win respect from his jail-bird following. The
murmur of the sea grew more and more distinct as we neared the dark
line of headlands; then, at length, the swaying coach came to a
standstill.
"Now, then, get their clothes off them!" ordered Rodwood.
The command had reference to the horses, from which the harness was
speedily stripped and flung inside the coach. With a cut of the whip
they were then driven off into the darkness. As the common extended
some distance down the coast, it was probable that before daylight the
animals would have strayed far from the spot where they had been
liberated.
"Save the lamps," was the next command, "and see if there's anything in
the fore or hind boot."
Owing to the peculiar character of its passengers, the coach was found
to be carrying practically nothing in the way of luggage, except my own
trunk and the one large hamper already mentioned, which had been pushed
into the boot for conveyance to Castlefield, probably to relieve the
mail, which was sure to be heavily laden at this time of the year.
From the gruff remarks of the would-be plunderers, it was evident that
they were disappointed. It was probably within the knowledge of most
of them that a stage coach sometimes carried a valuable cargo; in fact,
not more than two years after the date of my story a bank parcel
containing notes and gold to the value of L5,700 was stolen from a
coach running between Glasgow and Edinburgh--the thieves in this
instance travelling as inside passengers, and cutting a hole with
brace-bit and saw through the body of the coach into the boot, from
which the plunder was then extracted.
However, a basket of provisions was, in a way, a valuable find; for the
question of food was likely to become a serious problem before the
members of the gang regained their full freedom. Rodwood therefore
told off two of his followers to carry the basket, refused to allow the
men to drink the other bottle of wine, and bade one of the party unhang
the game from the lamp-iron and carry it slung over his shoulder.
My box was forced open and speedily overhauled; but as it contained
little besides spare clothing, it was flung back into the coach. It
would have been useless for me to expostulate and claim my
property--the rascals were not likely to leave such a piece of evidence
lying about on the grass--and I held my tongue.
"It's half-tide," I heard Lewis mutter. "There's a ledge of rock
she'll land on, but the flood will carry off the wreckage."
The last moments of the _True Blue_ had come.
"Turn her round and back her over," ordered Rodwood.
Awed by the thought of such wanton destruction, I stood with my eyes
fixed upon the dark body of the coach, as for half a minute or so it
rocked and swayed against the sky-line; then, with a subdued shout from
the men, it suddenly disappeared. A moment later, from far beneath
came a mighty crash of woodwork and the sharp tinkle of shivered glass.
George Woodley groaned, and ground his teeth with rage. But for the
fact that we were still chained together and I held him back, I believe
he would have rushed upon the gang and fought them with his bare hands.
"The murderous villains!" he muttered. "Fancy throwing a stage-coach
into the sea, as if it were nothing more than an old fish-basket!"
"Steady, George," I whispered. "Keep your mouth shut. We're in the
hands of these men, and they'll stop at nothing now to get their
liberty. Be thankful they didn't knock us on the head at the first, or
leave us tied to a tree to perish with the cold."
Once more the men instinctively formed a group round their leader, to
learn what should be done next.
"I expect they're all abed in the village by this time," said Lewis;
"still, there's nothing like making sure. There's a little place
hereabouts where the rest of you can lie snug while I go down and put
the oars in the boat, and see that all's quiet."
At the mention of the boat I pricked up my ears. Was it possible that
some smuggling lugger was then off the coast, and that the gang were
going straight on board? If so, what was to become of Woodley and
myself? Surely they would not want to carry us with them across to
France! In another hour, perhaps, we should regain our liberty.
A short distance away was a cavity in the ground--a sort of dried pit
surrounded and overhung by gorse bushes. Into this, by Lewis's
direction, we all crept, and lay or squatted in a huddled mass upon the
ground. It was bitterly cold; my teeth chattered, and I was glad
enough to creep close to George Woodley for the extra warmth. If
Rodwood had been allowed to carry out his intention of binding us to a
couple of trees in the lonely copse, the pair of us must certainly have
been frozen stiff by morning. I could only hope that the shelter of
the cottage and the warmth of the straw would preserve the warders and
Tom from a similar fate.
It still wanted more than an hour to midnight, yet it seemed as if the
darkness must have lasted a week, and I could hardly bring myself to
believe that it was but a few hours since I had left the shelter of the
Sportsman.
The convicts began to talk to each other in low tones, the chief topic
of conversation being the likelihood of pursuit. Would the
disappearance of the coach from the highroad have been discovered by
now? This might or might not be the case. Breakdowns sometimes
occurred which caused delay, and in case of anything serious the guard
sometimes rode forward on one of the horses to obtain assistance.
"They must have been expecting of us at the stage beyond Tod's Corner,"
said one fellow; "and most likely after a time they'll send a man back
as far as the last stopping-place. He'll hear we passed there all
right, and then the question'll be what's become of us." The speaker
chuckled, as though picturing to himself the astonishment of the
stableman when it dawned on him that a coach and four, with guard,
driver, and passengers, had apparently vanished into thin air, at some
spot on the ten or twelve miles of dark, lonely road over which he had
just ridden.
"It's bound to come out some time," answered a voice which I recognized
as Rodwood's; "but it'll take time. Granted that the man has ridden
back by now and found out that we're gone--well, what's he going to do?
He and the rest will waste another hour talking; or perhaps they'll
wait for the mail to come along, and tell the folks on that what's
happened. Then it's ten to one they'll take it for granted that we've
made off further inland. No; we're safe enough at present. With
anything like luck we ought to have a fair start till morning."
Hardly had the words been uttered when there came a warning "Hist!"
from some member of the gang whose sense of hearing must have been
particularly acute. Men who go in constant peril of losing their
liberty need no second hint of the presence of danger, and at once a
deathlike silence prevailed. So infectious was the suppressed
excitement that I felt the strain as much as if I myself had been an
escaping prisoner. My heart thumped, and I held my breath, eager to
ascertain the cause of the alarm.
For some moments I heard nothing; then, distinct and not far distant,
there was a metallic tinkle as of a light chain. A pause followed, and
then the sound was repeated, this time nearer to the pit, while at the
same instant an exactly similar noise came from some little distance
away in the opposite direction. On that wild spot, at such an hour,
any sound not attributable to the wild animals or the forces of nature
might have awakened the listener's curiosity; but in the present
instance it was calculated to arouse something more than idle
speculation. Not a man moved--they sat or crouched like figures of
stone; and once again came that ominous jingle, exactly like the sound
that might be caused by the movements of a man whose limbs were
fettered.
"_It's the 'screws'!_" exclaimed one fellow in a horrified whisper,
with that morbid superstition which is sometimes found in criminals.
"This frost has done for them, and now they're following us with their
ghosts!"
"Shut your mouth, you fool!" replied his companion fiercely. "If
that's living men after us with the 'ruffles,' they won't put 'em on
me! I'll make a few more ghosts before that happens!"
It was evident that the whole party had arrived at the same
conclusion--that, by some means or other, they had already been tracked
down by pursuers and their whereabouts discovered. How this could have
happened it was impossible to imagine; but there was no mistaking that
sound--more than one person was moving towards us on the common,
incautiously allowing their approach to be heralded by the jingling of
chains. For the moment I think even Rodwood forgot the presence of
George Woodley and myself; but even if the thought had occurred to
either of us to do such a thing, it would have been madness for us to
shout or give any signal betraying our whereabouts, as we should
certainly have paid the penalty of our lives for such an act.
The sharp tinkle sounded first on one side of the pit, and then on the
other. Noiselessly Rodwood thrust his head forward into the centre of
his followers.
"They're coming up on both sides," he whispered. "It's that man Lewis
has done it," added the speaker, with an imprecation. "He's informed,
to get his own liberty. This is a trap; but they won't take me out of
it alive! Now, lads, no backing out. There are ten of us, and if we
all strike together we'll prove a match for them yet!"
The words were followed by a click indicating the cocking of a pistol,
and I noticed that the man nearest to me was working at a fragment of
rock, endeavouring to dislodge it for use as a weapon.
At any other time I think I should have openly contradicted this charge
of treachery against the absent man. Comparatively little as I knew of
Lewis, I felt sure that whatever his faults might have been, he was
never untrue to his own code of honour. I was, however, wise enough to
hold my tongue, for a word uttered just then had like to have been the
last I had ever spoken.
The clinking noise came nearer. There were long pauses between each
repetition of the noise, as though the bearers were advancing
cautiously, intending, when they got within easy distance of the pit,
to carry the position with a final rush. Now on either side of us they
appeared to be close at hand; the fateful moment had surely arrived,
and my heart seemed to stop beating. The rascal at my side had
loosened his jagged stone, and was clutching it with murderous intent;
while the rest of the gang crouched, ready to spring to action at a
signal from their leader.
Then suddenly the man named Nat broke out into a roar of hoarse
laughter. The noise was, I think, more of a shock to the overstrained
nerves of his comrades than a dozen pistol-shots. They sprang to their
feet with a perfect howl of pent-up excitement. The next instant I
fully expected their pursuers would leap down upon us, and the pit
become the scene of a fierce conflict. Instinctively I shrank back
under the overhanging bushes; but, to my surprise, nothing happened.
"Ho, ho!" burst out the voice of Nat above the confusion; "it's not the
'screws,' it's only some of those sheep! They chain them together out
here on the coast, to prevent them straying."
"Keep quiet, you fool!" cried Rodwood. "D'you want to wake up every
man in Rockymouth with your bull's roaring? Silence, you noisy hound,
or I'll crack your skull with the butt of this pistol!"
However much inclined other members of the gang might have been to
relieve their overstrung nerves with a laugh, Rodwood's threat was
enough to force them into silence. One man sprung out of the hollow,
and returned a moment later confirming Nat's statement regarding the
sheep; and then, for the first time, I remembered having seen the
animals on the cliffs, during my summer rambles with Miles, grazing in
couples fastened together with collars and a chain, to hamper their
movements and prevent their wandering.
It was certainly a ludicrous ending to what had seemed a tragic
situation, but for my own part I was little inclined to laugh; and as
the man beside me flung down his piece of rock, I could but feel
thankful that the disturbance had proved a false alarm.
Once more the gang settled down to await the return of Lewis, who at
length appeared with the intelligence that all was quiet in the
village. With Rodwood and the old smuggler leading, and the rest of
the party following in a straggling line, we made our way across the
common and down a steep slope on the seaward side of the village. As
George Woodley and I stumbled along over the uneven ground the
handcuffs jerked, and chafed our fettered wrists; but the chance of our
giving them the slip in the darkness and rousing up a pursuit was too
serious a risk for the convicts to make it likely that they would
liberate us at that important moment of their escape. On we went in
perfect silence, skirting the village; and now almost immediately
beneath us lay the harbour, sheltered from the beat of the open sea by
the curved stone jetty, which always reminded me of a defending arm,
crooked at the elbow, shielding the small craft which sought its
protection. They had no need of it on this particular night, for the
sea could not have been calmer if the month had been June instead of
December.
Close behind me came the man whom I had seen helped down from the roof
of the coach; and now, from a muttered word uttered now and again, I
gathered that he was blind. Assisted, however, as before, by a
comrade, he kept pace with the rest, and gave less trouble than might
have been expected. We were half-way down the precipitous hillside
when the leaders came to an abrupt halt--an example followed
immediately by the rest of the party--and as we steadied ourselves,
digging our heels into the ground, a voice cried,--
"Listen!"
It was the blind man who spoke. He had already uttered the word once
before in a lower key, and I knew now that it was he who had given the
first warning of the tinkling chains as we crouched in the pit.
As I have already said, the sea was very calm; there was no surf
beating on the rocks, and in addition to this it was one of those
still, frosty nights when the slightest sound can be heard with great
distinctness. Sharp and clear, as though not more than a hundred yards
distant, came the rhythmic clatter of a galloping horse. It was
probably still the better part of a mile distant, descending the long,
steep hill to the village; but the sides of the valley threw back and
intensified the sound, so that an impression was given of the rider
being close at hand. It was not likely that any one would gallop at
headlong speed into Rockymouth at close on midnight on a winter's night
unless his business was urgent; and it did not take the escaped
prisoners long to find a reason for the messenger's hot haste.
"The murder's out!" cried Rodwood. "They've guessed the direction
we've gone in from the wheel-tracks. Now we shall have every dog in
the county set at our heels!"
"It's one of the riding officers has got the news, I'll warrant!"
answered Lewis.--"Come on, lads! only a nimble pair of feet will save
you."
"Forward!" cried the man who now acted as our guard, at the same time
giving George and myself a shove which nearly sent us headlong down the
slope, while the whole party went plunging recklessly from ridge to
ridge after the fleet-footed smuggler. Once, as Woodley made a false
step, I thought my right wrist was broken, but we were too well aware
of the mood of our companions to show any signs of hesitation. Gaining
the level ground, we rushed on past the few cottages which straggled
out towards the sea; the men, careless now of the noise their heavy
boots made on the rocky ground, tore along, thinking only of speed, and
for the most part believing that the horseman was close at their heels.
Another moment, and we were stumbling breathlessly into the boat which
Lewis had already drawn alongside the jetty. Down she sank under the
unaccustomed load, until it seemed to me the gunnels were almost level
with the water; then the damp stone wall began to recede--Lewis had
pushed off--and the next instant the oars were grinding in the rowlocks.
Slowly we gathered way, and cleared the end of the pier; a gentle heave
betokened the open sea, and as we felt it a shouting was heard in the
village.
"We've got a start, anyway," muttered Lewis, who was bending his back
to a long, steady stroke.
"Hullo!" exclaimed one of the men, "there's a dog crouching under this
seat. How did he get in the boat, I wonder?"
"Let him be," answered the smuggler. "He won't do no harm. He's mine,
and met me in the village. He'd only sit and howl if we left him
ashore."
Hardly had the words been uttered when the boat gave a sudden violent
lurch, which brought the water rushing in over the side. Had not
George and I flung ourselves promptly to starboard, and thus brought
all our weight to bear in the opposite direction, the overloaded craft
would certainly have capsized, and flung all its occupants into the
sea. In his excitement the convict who had taken the second oar had
"caught a crab," and thus narrowly escaped bringing the adventures of
the whole party to an untimely termination.
"You lubber!" growled Lewis.--"Isn't there a man among you who can pull
an oar?"
"I can row if you'll free my hand," I exclaimed, not relishing the
prospect of a watery grave, which was inevitable if this boatload of
landsmen were once overturned.
"Yes, Master Eden, you'll do; I've seen you in a boat before," was the
reply.--"For any sake cast off the boy's irons, some of you, and let
him come forward."
Feeling rather proud, I fancy, as a boy might in proving himself
superior to a number of grown men, I changed seats, and bent with a
will to the oar, keeping time with the swing of Lewis's figure, which
was dimly visible in the gloom. Thus the boat crept out to sea, and
turning moved in a westerly direction down the coast.
There was no sign or sound of pursuit; our departure from the harbour
had evidently not been discovered. I was too much occupied with my oar
to notice where we were going; but at last, when my arms were beginning
to ache, and I feared I should have to ask to be relieved, Lewis ceased
rowing, bidding me do the same; then turning, to my surprise I found we
were close to shore, while above us towered the face of a mighty cliff.
Flinging his oar over the stern, with a skilful twisting of his wrist
the old sailor sculled the boat carefully towards the towering mass of
rock. In another moment I thought we should strike, and prepared
involuntarily for the expected shock; then a half-circle of blackness
resolved itself into the narrow, tunnel-like mouth of a cave.
Gently we drifted through the opening, a man in the bows guiding us
with his hand, until the darkness became absolutely impenetrable, and
the intense stillness was broken only by the lapping of water against
the sides of the cavern.
This, then, was Lewis's promised hiding-place, and his assertion that
there would be no danger of the men being found seemed no idle boast.