_In Which Archie Armstrong Goes Deeper In and Thinks He
Has Got Beyond His Depth. Bill o' Burnt Bay Takes
Deschamps By the Throat and the Issue Is Doubtful For a
Time_
That afternoon, after a short conversation with Josiah Cove, who had
thus far managed to keep out of trouble, Archie Armstrong spent a
brief time on the _Heavenly Home_ to attend to the health and comfort
of the watchman, who was in no bad way. Perhaps, after all, Archie
thought--if Deschamps' headache would only cause the removal of Bill
o' Burnt Bay to the dilapidated cell on the ground floor--the
_Heavenly Home_ might yet be sailed in triumph to Ruddy Cove. He
strutted the deck, when necessary, with as much of the insolence of a
civic official as he could command, and no man came near to question
his right. When the watchman's friends came from the _Voyageur_ he
drove them away in excellent French. They went meekly and with
apologies for having disturbed him.
"So far, well enough," thought Archie, as he rowed ashore, glad to be
off the schooner.
It was after dark when, by appointment, the lad met Josiah. Josiah had
provided himself with a crowbar and a short length of line, which he
said would be sure to come useful, for he had always found it so. Then
the two set off for the jail together, and there arrived some time
after the drums had warned all good people to be within doors.
"What's that?" said Josiah of a sudden.
It was a hoarse, melancholy croak proceeding from the other side of
the wall. The skipper's cell had been changed, as Archie had hoped,
and the skipper himself was doing his duty to the bitter end. The
street was deserted. They acted quickly. Josiah gave Archie a leg. He
threw his jacket over the broken glass and mounted the wall. Josiah
made off at once; it was his duty to have the skiff in readiness.
Archie dropped into the garden.
"Is that you, b'y?" whispered Skipper Bill.
Again Archie once more found it impossible to take the adventure
seriously. He began to laugh. It was far too much like the romances
he had read to be real. It was play, it seemed--just like a game of
smugglers and pirates, played on a summer's afternoon.
"Is it you, Archie?" the skipper whispered again.
Archie chuckled aloud.
"Is the wind in the west?" the skipper asked.
"Ay," Archie replied; "and blowing a smart sailing breeze."
"Haste, then, lad!" said the skipper. "'Tis time t' be off for Ruddy
Cove."
The window was low. With his crowbar Archie wrenched a bar from its
socket. It came with a great clatter. It made the boy's blood run cold
to hear the noise. He pried the second and it yielded. Down fell a
block of stone with a crash. While he was feeling for a purchase on
the third bar Skipper Bill caught his wrist.
"Hist, lad!"
It was a footfall in the corridor. Skipper Bill slipped into the
darkness by the door--vanished like a shadow. Archie dropped to the
ground. By what unhappy chance had Deschamps come upon this
visitation? Could it have been the silence of Skipper Bill? Archie
heard the cover of the grating drawn away from the peep-hole in the
door.
"He's gone!"
That was Deschamps' voice. Doubtless he had observed that two bars
were missing from the window. Archie heard the key slipped into the
lock and the door creak on its hinges. All the time he knew that
Skipper Bill was crouched in the shadow--poised for the spring. The
boy no longer thought of the predicament as a game. Nor was he
inclined to laugh again. This was the ugly reality once more come to
face him. There would be a fight in the cell. This he knew. And he
waited in terror of the issue.
There was a quick step--a crash--a quick-drawn breath--the noise of a
shock--a cry--a groan. Skipper Bill had kicked the door to and leaped
upon the jailer. Archie pried the third bar out and broke the fourth
with a blow. Then he squirmed through the window. Even in that dim
light--half the night light without--he could see that the struggle
was over. Skipper Bill had Deschamps by the throat with his great
right hand. He had the jailer's waist in his left arm as in a vise,
and was forcing his head back--back--back--until Archie thought the
Frenchman's spine would crack.
"Don't kill him!" Archie cried.
Skipper Bill had no intention of doing so; nor had Deschamps, the
wrestler, any idea of allowing his back to be broken.
"Don't kill him!" Archie begged again.
Deschamps was tugging at that right arm of iron--weakly, vainly
tugging to wrench it away from his throat. His eyes were starting
from their sockets, and his tongue protruded. Back went the
head--back--back! The arm was pitiless. Back--back! He was fordone. In
a moment his strength departed and he collapsed. He had not had time
to call for help, so quick had been Bill's hand. They bound his limp
body with the length of line Josiah had brought, and they had no
sooner bound him than he revived.
"You are a great man, monsieur," he mumbled. "You have vanquished
me--Deschamps! You will be famous--famous, monsieur. I shall send my
resignation to His Excellency the Governor to-morrow. Deschamps--he is
vanquished!"
"What's he talkin' about?" the skipper panted.
"You have beaten him."
"Let's be off, b'y," the skipper gasped.
They locked the door on the inside, clambered through the window and
scaled the wall. They sped through the deserted streets with all
haste. They came to the landing-place and found the skiff tugging at
her painter with her sails all unfurled. Presently they were under way
for the _Heavenly Home_, and, having come safely aboard, hauled up the
mainsail, set the jib and were about to slip the anchor. Then they
heard the clang, clang, clang of a bell--a warning clang, clang,
clang, which could mean but one thing: discovery.
"Fetch up that Frenchman," the skipper roared.
The watchman was loosed and brought on deck.
"Put un in his dory and cast off," the skipper ordered.
This done the anchor was slipped and the sheets hauled taut. The rest
of the canvas was shaken out and the _Heavenly Home_ gathered way and
fairly flew for the open sea.
* * * * *
If there was pursuit it did not come within sight. The old schooner
came safely to Ruddy Cove, where Bill o' Burnt Bay, Josiah Cove and
Archie Armstrong lived for a time in sickening fear of discovery and
arrest. But nothing was ever heard from Saint Pierre. The _Heavenly
Home_ had been unlawfully seized by the French; perhaps that is why
the Ruddy Cove pirates heard no more of the Miquelon escapade. There
was hardly good ground in the circumstances for complaint to the
Newfoundland government. At any rate, Archie wrote a full and true
statement of the adventure to his father in St. John's; and his father
replied that his letter had been received and "contents noted."
There was no chiding; and Archie breathed easier after he had read the
letter.