THE CROWNING MERCY.
We must now take up the story of the third division of the great
expedition, the plan and execution of which so fully reflects the
military genius of our distinguished hero; for though this part was
carried out by Billy Blythe, the credit of the design, as well as the
discovery of the means of carrying it out, were wholly due to General
Napoleon Smith.
When the second boat swept loose and the futile anger of Sir Toady
Lion had ceased to excite the laughter of the crew, the gipsy lads
settled down to watching the rush of the Edam Water as it swept them
along. They had, to begin with, an easier task than the first boat
expedition. No enemy opposed their landing. No dangerous concealed
stepping-stones had to be negotiated on the route they were to follow.
Leaving all to the action of the current, they swept through the
entrance to the wider branch, and presently ranged up alongside the
deserted water-front of the ancient defences. They let the castle drop
a little behind, and then rowed up into the eddy made by the corner of
the fallen tower, where, on the morning of his deliverance, Hugh John
had disturbed the slumbering sheep by so unexpectedly emerging from
the secret passage.
Billy stepped on shore to choose a great stone for an anchor, and
presently pulled the whole expedition alongside the fallen masonry, so
that they were able to disembark as upon a pier.
The Bounding Brothers immediately threw several somersaults just to
let off steam, till Billy cuffed them into something like seriousness.
"Hark to 'em," whispered Charlie Lee; "ain't they pitching it into
them slick, over there on the other side. It's surely about our time
to go at it."
"Just you shut up and wait," hissed Billy Blythe under his breath.
"That's all your job just now."
And here, in the safe shelter of the ruined tower, the fourteen
listened to the roar of battle surging, now high, now low, in heady
fluctuations, turbulent bursts, and yet more eloquent silences from
the other side of the keep.
They could distinguish, clear above all, the voice of General Smith,
encouraging on his men in the purest and most vigorous Saxon.
"Go at them, boys! They're giving in. Sammy Carter, you sneak, I'll
smash you, if you don't charge! Go it, Mike! Wire in, boys! Hike them
out like Billy-O!"
And the Bounding Brothers, in their itching desire to take part,
rubbed themselves down as if they had been horses, and softly squared
up to each other, selecting the tenderest spots and hitting lightly,
but with most wondrous accuracy, upon breast or chin.
"Won't we punch them! Oh no!" whispered Charlie Lee.
But from the way that he said it, he hardly seemed to mean what he
said.
Just then came a tremendous and long continued gust of cheering from
the defenders of the castle, which meant that they had cleared their
front of the assailants. The sound of General Smith's voice waxed
gradually fainter, as if he were being carried away against his will
by the tide of retreat. Still at intervals he could be heard,
encouraging, reproving, exhorting, but without the same glad confident
ring in his tones.
Flags of red and white were waved from the ramparts; pistols (charged
with powder only) were fired from embrasures, and the Smoutchies rent
their throats in arrogant jubilation. They thought that the great
assault had failed.
But behind them in the turret, all unbeknown, the Bounding Brothers
silently patted one another with their knuckles as if desirous of
practising affectionate greetings for the Smoutchies.
Perhaps they were; and then, again, perhaps they weren't.
* * * * *
"Now's our time," cried Billy Blythe; "come on, boys. Now for it!"
And with both hands and feet he began to remove certain flag-stones
and recently heaped up _debris_ from the mouth of a narrow passage,
the same by which Hugh John had made his escape. His men stood around
in astonishment and slowly dawning admiration, as they realised that
their attack was to be a surprise, the most complete and famous in
history, and also one strictly devised and carried out on the best
models. Though the rank and file did not know quite so much about that
as their Commander-in-Chief, who was sure in his heart that Froissart
would have been glad to write about his crowning mercy.
It is one of the proofs of the genuine nobility of Hugh John's nature,
and also of his consummate generalship, that he put the carrying out
of the final _coup_ of his great scheme into other hands, consenting
himself to take the hard knocks, to be mauled and defeated, in order
that the rout of the enemy might be the more complete.
The rubbish being at last sufficiently cleared, Billy bent his head
and dipped down the steps. Charlie Lee followed, and the fourteen were
on their way. Silently and cautiously, as if he had been relieving a
hen-roost of its superfluous inhabitants, Billy crept along, testing
the foothold at every step. He came to the stairway up to the dungeon,
pausing a moment, to listen. There was a great pow-wow overhead. The
Smoutchies were in the seventh heaven of jubilation over the repulse
of the enemy.
Suddenly somebody in the passage sneezed.
Billy turned to Charlie Lee. "If that man does that again, burke him!"
he whispered.
Then with a firm step he mounted the final ascent of the secret stair.
His head hit hard against the roof at the top. He had not remembered
how Hugh John had told him that the exit was under the lowest part of
the bottle dungeon.
"Bless that roof!" he muttered piously--more piously, perhaps, than
could have been expected of him, considering his upbringing.
"If Billy Blythe says that again, burke him!" said a carefully
disguised gruff voice from the back--evidently that of the late
sneezer.
"Silence--or by the Lord I'll slay you!" returned Billy, in a hissing
whisper.
There was the silence of the grave behind. Billy Blythe made himself
much respected for the moral rectitude and true worth of his
character.
One by one the fourteen stepped clear of the damp stairs, and stood in
the wide circuit of the dungeon.
But the narrow circular exit of the cell was still twelve feet above
them. How were they to reach it? The walls were smooth as the inside
of the bottle from which the prison-house took its name, curving in at
the top, without foothold or niches in their smooth surface, so that
no climber could ascend more than a few feet.
The Bounding Brothers stepped to the front, and with a hitch of their
shoulders, stood waiting.
"Ready!" said Billy.
In a moment Charlie Lee was balancing himself on the third storey of
the fraternal pyramid. He could just look over the edge of the
platform on which the mouth of the dungeon was placed. He ducked down
sharply.
[Illustration: "THE LIVING CHAIN."]
"They are all at their windows, yelling like fun," he whispered, with
the white, eager look of battle on his face.
"Up, and at 'em!" said Billy, as if he had been the Great Duke.
And at his word the Bounding Brothers arched their shoulders to
receive the weight of the coming climbers. One after another the
remaining eleven scrambled up, swift and silent as cats; and with
Charlie Lee at their head, lay prone on the dungeon platform, waiting
the word of command. Close as herrings in a barrel they crouched,
their arms outstretched before them, and their chins sunk low on the
masonry.
Billy crept along till his head lay over the edge of the bottle
dungeon. He extended his arms down. The highest Bounding Brother
grasped them. His mate at the foot cast loose from the floor and
swarmed up as on a ladder. The living chain swayed and dangled; but
though his wrists ached as if they would part from their sockets,
Billy never flinched; and finally, with Charlie Lee stretched across
the hollow of his knees to keep all taut behind, by mere leverage of
muscle he drew up the last brother upon the dungeon platform.
The fourteen lay looking over upon the unconscious enemy. The level of
the floor of the keep was six feet below. The Smoutchies to a man were
at their posts.
With a nudge of his elbow Billy intimated that it was not yet time for
the final assault. He listened with one ear turned towards the great
open gateway, till he heard again the rallying shout of General
Napoleon Smith.
"_Now then! Ready all! Double-quick! Char-r-r-ge!_"
With a shout the first land division, once repulsed, came the second
time at the foe. The Smoutchies crowded to the gateway, deserting
their windows in order to repel the determined assault delivered by
Hugh John and his merry men.
"Now!" said Billy Blythe softly, standing up on the dungeon platform.
He glanced about him. Every Bounding Brother and baresark man of the
gipsy camp had the same smile on his face, the boxer's smile when he
gives or takes punishment.
Down leaped Billy Blythe, and straight over the floor of the keep for
the great gateway he dashed. One, two--one, two! went his fists. The
thirteen followed him, and such was the energy of their charge that
the Smoutchies, taken completely by surprise, tumbled off their
platforms by companies, fell over the broken steps by platoons, and
even threw themselves in their panic into the arms of Hugh John and
his corps, who were coming on at the double in front.
Never was there such a rout known in history. The isolated Smoutchies
who had been left in the castle dropped from window and tower at the
peril of their necks in order that they might have a chance of
reaching the ground in safety. Then they gathered themselves up and
fled helter-skelter for the bridge which led towards the town of Edam.
But what completed their demoralisation was that at this psychological
moment the third division under Sir Toady Lion came into action. Mr.
Burnham, with his coat-tails flying, caught first one and then
another, and whelmed them on the turf, while the valiant butcher of
Edam, having secured his own offspring firmly by the collar, caused
his cane to descend upon that hero's back and limbs till the air was
filled with the resultant music. And the more loudly Nipper howled,
the faster and faster the Smoutchies fled, while the shillelahs of the
two generals, and the fists of the Bounding Brothers, wrought havoc in
their rear. The flight became a rout. The bridge was covered with the
fugitives.
The forces of Windy Standard took all the prisoners they wanted, and
butcher Donnan took his son, who for many days had reason to remember
the circumstance. He was a changed Smoutchy from that day.
The camp of the enemy, with all his artillery, arms, and military
stores, fell into the hands of the triumphant besiegers.
At the intercession of Mr. Burnham the prisoners were conditionally
released, under parole never to fight again in the same war--nor for
the future to meddle with the Castle of Windy Standard, the property,
as Hugh John insisted on putting it, of Mr. Picton Smith, Esq., J. P.
But Mr. Burnham did what was perhaps more efficacious than any oaths.
He went round to all the parents, guardians, teachers, and employers
of the Smoutchy army. He represented the state of the case to them,
and the danger of getting into trouble with a man so determined and
powerful as Mr. Picton Smith.
The fists of the Bounding Brothers, the sword of General Napoleon, the
teeth and nails of Sir Toady Lion (who systematically harassed the
rear of the fleeing enemy) were as nothing to the several interviews
which awaited the unfortunate Smoutchies at their homes and places of
business or learning that evening, and on the succeeding Monday
morning. Their torture of General Smith was amply avenged.
The victorious army remained in possession of the field, damaged but
happy. Their triumph had not been achieved without wounds and bruises
manifold. So Mr. Burnham sent for half-a-crown's worth of
sticking-plaster, and another half-crown's worth of ripe gooseberries.
Whereupon the three divisions with one voice cheered Mr. Burnham, and
Toady Lion put his hand on the sacred silk waistcoat, and said in his
most peculiar Toady-leonine grammar, "'Oo is a bwick. Us likes 'oo!"
Which Mr. Burnham felt was, at the very least, equivalent to the
thanks of Parliament for distinguished service.
It was a very happy, a very hungry, a very sticky, and a very patchy
army which approached the house of Windy Standard at six o'clock that
night, and was promptly sent supperless to bed.
Hugh John parted with Cissy at the stepping-stones. Her eyes dwelt
proudly and happily upon him.
"You fought splendidly," she said.
"We all fought splendidly," replied Hugh John, with a nod of approval
which went straight to Cissy's heart, so that the tears sprang into
her eyes.
"Oh, you _are_ a nice thing, Hugh John!" she cried impulsively,
reaching out her hands to clasp his arm.
"No, I'm not!" said Hugh John, startled and apprehensive. Then without
waiting for more he turned hastily away.
But all the same Cissy Carter was very happy that night as she went
homeward, and did not speak or even listen when Sammy addressed her
several times by the way upon the dangers of war and the folly of
love.