Tom and Charley had gone through so much that they could not calculate
at all what hour of the night it then was. They had not noted the hour
when they commenced their adventure, but remembered that it was then
daylight; they had had no dinner, and they felt very hungry. They were
hurrying along a path which led through a hollow, when on the hill above
them they saw a female figure. She stopped and looked about, either to
find the path or in expectation of some one. What could she want at
that hour of the night, in so lone a place? They were under the shadow
of a stone wall, and she evidently did not see them. They hesitated
whether to remain concealed, as it occurred to both that her appearance
there was in some way or other connected with the smugglers. However,
after waiting a minute, she came down the hill with the light step of a
young girl; when, catching sight of them, instead of retreating she came
boldly forward. "Oh, Tom, oh, Mr Charles, I am so glad to see you all
right!" she exclaimed, as she got near enough for them to recognise the
features of Polly Herring, the smuggler's daughter. "I heard that
something dreadful was going to happen, and I came along to try and stop
it."
"And you thought, Polly, that your father was in it, and may be James
Trevany, and you did not wish them to get into trouble. Was not that
it, Polly?"
"Yes! Tom, that was one reason," answered the girl, frankly; "another
was that I wanted to save you and Mister Charles from coming to harm;
and now I'll ask you, if father or James get into trouble, to speak a
good word to the captain to help them out of it."
"The captain is a just man, and will return kindness with kindness, no
doubt of that," answered Tom. "But I say, Polly, if any one can find
out where Miss Margery is, you can, for I am as certain as I stand here
that your father, or James, or some of your friends, had a hand in
carrying her off. Come, speak the truth, girl; you'll gain more by
helping us to find her than by any other way."
"Yes! it was a cruel shame to carry her away," she muttered, in a low
voice; "but I dare not indeed I dare not."
"Dare not do what, Polly?" asked Tom, in a soothing tone.
"Tell where she is, or help you to get her," answered the girl,
promptly.
"Then you do know where she is, Polly, and may be who took her away, and
all about her," said Tom. "Now what I've got to say is this, that just
do you do what's right, and never do you fear what any one can do to
you."
The girl still hesitated.
"Just let me ask you a question, Polly," continued Tom. "Is your father
in trouble, or James? Tell me that."
"Yes! the revenue men have got some information against them, and are
after them both."
"Then depend on't, Polly, the best thing for them is to give up Miss
Margery before they are caught," said Tom; "they'll gain nothing by
giving her up afterwards. The law doesn't make terms with people."
"But they're terrible people who've got her," answered Polly. "They'd
as soon shoot you, or me, or anybody, as look at us, if we came near
them."
"We don't fear terrible men," said Tom, laughing, "just do you put us in
the way of getting back Miss Margery, and we'll say as many good words
as we can for thy father, Polly, and for James too, if he needs them."
"But you'll do no harm to those who have got her, and all you'll say is
that Polly Herring, Dick Herring's daughter, helped you to get her
back," said the girl, in a tone which showed that she still feared the
consequences of what she was about to do.
Charley had not before spoken, but he now thanked her, and urged her to
lose no time in restoring Margery to them.
"Come on, then," she said, in a firm voice; "it's a long way from here,
but you may be there and back at the Tower with the little girl before
daybreak." These words made Charley's affectionate heart beat with joy.
Polly added, however, "We must be careful, though, for if we were to
fall in with any of our people it would go hard with you and me too."
Polly had well-knit limbs, and, being accustomed to active exercise, led
the way at a rapid rate. She seemed well acquainted with the road, for
she never stopped or hesitated as to which path to take, and Charley
soon totally lost the direction in which he was going, and Tom had no
little difficulty in keeping up with her.
They had thus gone on for some distance, when Polly stopped and stood as
if listening.
"I hear some coming; we must hide, and quick too, for if they are those
I fancy, and they catch us, our lives are not worth much."
A high bank with a hedge on the top of it was on one side, and as she
spoke she led the way through a gap, and the adventurers found
themselves perfectly concealed from any one passing along the road.
Scarcely had they got behind the hedge, when a party of five or six men
appeared, talking in subdued tones, but high enough to allow some of
their words to be heard. They were uttering oaths and breathing
vengeance against the revenue officers and others, by whom their plans
had been defeated. From the mood they were in, Charley felt that it
would have been very unpleasant to have again encountered them. Polly
waited for some time before she ventured into the road, and then she led
on, without speaking, as fast as ever. The ground became very rough,
and they went up and down hill till the sound of the surf told that they
were once more approaching the sea.
As they were ascending a steep, rocky hill, covered with loose stones, a
light appeared before them. They crept on cautiously, imitating Polly's
way of proceeding.
"They have taken her there," she whispered, pointing to a cottage, the
dim outline of which could be seen. "This very night, if the weather
had been fine, they would have carried her across the Channel. There's
no time to lose, for they won't let her stay long, and if we don't get
her to-day, to-morrow she may be far off from this."
Again she moved on, till she reached a low stone wall, which formed a
fence to the garden of the house. "Stay still as death here," she
whispered. "There's a terrible woman lives there. If she was to find
out what I was about she'd kill me though I am her own flesh and blood,
and you too, and, may be, in her rage, the little girl too." Saying
this, Polly stole on towards the cottage.
Charley had expected that he should have been called on to run some
personal risk, and to carry off Margery from the grasp of half-a-dozen
fierce smugglers or so, and he felt somewhat disappointed at the
inactive part he was called on to play. From the words Polly had
dropped he guessed that the cottage was the one inhabited by old Dame
Herring, who was looked upon by the inhabitants of the country for miles
round as a witch, and known to be a very bad character. She took
advantage of her evil reputation, and practised on the credulity of the
people. It is not necessary to mention her bad practices. A few years
before she would very probably have been burnt as a witch; she now ran a
risk of being ducked in a horse-pond.
Polly seemed to be a long time absent. Tom had the gift of patience,
and was accustomed to wait, and so, though he was fully as anxious as
Charley to have Margery safe under his charge, he made no complaint; but
Charley began to lose patience, and to wonder what could have become of
Polly, contemplating even going to look for her. Those who have had
experience in life know that it is much more difficult to wait for an
event than to rush forward to meet it; passive courage is therefore
often the greatest. Still, when difficulties occur, the wisest course
is boldly to face them at once. To the eyes of the multitude the
soldier who rushes onward into the thickest of the fight may appear the
bravest, and yet he may be a positive coward, urged forward by despair.
The truly brave is he who can stand undaunted to meet the shock of the
onset. Charley had to wait and wait till his patience was taxed to the
utmost. At length his ear caught a light footstep approaching, and
Polly came up to him. "I couldn't get the little girl out, for she is
shut up in a room by herself," she whispered. "I had to wait till they
were all asleep, and then I crept out to tell you. Still, I think if
you are careful you may manage to get her. I will show you the window
of the room where she is shut up, and if you can climb in and awake her
without making any noise you may do it; but understand that there are
several men sleeping in the cottage with loaded pistols under their
heads, which they are very quick to use; and remember that the slightest
noise will alarm them. Come along, but you must wait ten minutes to let
me get into the cottage before you begin your business."
Charley and Tom, of course, promised to attend to Polly's injunctions,
and eagerly followed her through the garden to the back of the cottage.
She showed them the window, which seemed a very small one, about eight
feet from the ground; and then, with her finger on her lips, disappeared
round the corner. Charley waited what he considered a very long ten
minutes, but Tom, who could calculate better, held him tight, as a sign
that it was not yet time to move, and at last bent his back with his
head against the wall, and signed to him to get on the top of it. This
Charley did with alacrity, and grasping the window-sill, drew himself up
till he got his knees on it, and he was then able without noise to open
one side of the lattice window. There was barely room for him to creep
through, but he managed to do so without making any noise, and at length
he stood inside. He looked round anxiously into the room. At that
moment a gleam of moonlight burst through the passing clouds, and showed
him a small bed, and Margery, completely dressed, sleeping soundly and
peaceably on it. He was afraid if he awakened her suddenly she might
speak or cry out; so taking off his shoes he crept softly up to her, and
kissing her brow, whispered low in her ear, "Margery, Margery, don't
speak--a friend--Charley has come for you, to take you home."
She opened her eyes, which Charley could see, for the moonbeam cast its
light directly on her countenance; a sweet smile came across it, and he
thought that she had never looked more lovely; but she evidently thought
that she was dreaming.
"Dear Margery, wake up; Charley has come to take you away from this
place," he repeated.
"Is it possible?" she asked, in the same low voice in which he spoke,
and took his hand. The touch assured her.
"Yes, yes! I am ready; oh, thank you, thank you!"
Charley helped her to rise, and to step softly across the room. He then
got through the window, and holding on, as only a sailor or a cat could,
to nothing, helped her through and lifted her down to Tom, who couldn't
refrain from giving her a hearty kiss in his joy at recovering her.
Charley then put on his shoes, and dropped noiselessly to the ground.
"They brought me here without shoes, and would give me none for fear I
should run away," she whispered; "but I will try to walk without them."
"Not for worlds, Margery," answered Charley. "We'll carry you all the
way, never fear."
"Aye, aye, Miss Margery," said Tom; "I've carried you many a mile when
you was a baby and you was no heavier than a feather, and I've still
strength left in my old arms to carry you now that you are a young lady
nearly grown, I may say."
Margery could only murmur her thanks, as Tom bore her in his arms across
the garden and down the hill at a rapid rate, Charley bringing up the
rear, and ready to do battle should they be pursued.
Polly had so far proved faithful, and Charley hoped sincerely that the
part she had played in the affair might not be discovered by her
associates. Still, he cast many an anxious glance behind him as they
descended the steep, rough hill side, lest any of the smugglers should
have been aroused, and have come in pursuit. Their chief difficulty was
to find the way; but they guessed pretty correctly the direction of the
Tower, the moon still affording them the assistance of her light. They
did not even stop to rest, Tom declaring that Miss Margery was still
almost as light as a feather, if not quite as light as when she was a
baby. They had thus made good progress, when Charley said that he heard
footsteps.
"May be," answered Tom; "but they must be stout fellows who will dare to
take our Miss Margery from us."
"I am not at all afraid of anybody now," said Margery. "I am sure,
Charley, that you and Tom would not let them take me from you." Charley
of course promised that no one should, and as they did not believe that
any smugglers would venture to interfere with them, should any be met,
they continued their course. However, before they had gone much
further, two very suspicious-looking personages overtook them and asked
various questions, as to whence they had come and where they were going.
"Easily answered, mates," said Tom; "we are coming from the place we
last stopped at, and we are going home, and our business is nobody
else's, do ye see?"
Whatever had been the intentions of the men, Tom's firm bearing, and
Charley's determined air, as he brought up the rear, following Tom as a
bull-terrier does the heels of his master, ready to fly at any one
venturing to interfere with him, made them alter their purpose.
"I thought as how those piratical craft would sheer off if we showed a
bold front," said Tom, as the men turned down a lane on one side. "It's
a great point to show an enemy that you are wide awake and not afraid of
him. Mind you that, Master Charley. There's a great enemy, too, who is
always going about seeking whom he may devour; and if he finds that we
are prepared for him, and know how to resist him, he'll be off like a
shot."
At length the door of the Tower was reached. Becky, who opened it,
instead of welcoming them as they might naturally have expected that she
would, stared wildly at them, and then throwing her apron over her head
ran back screaming, "There are ghosts--there are ghosts--there are
ghosts at the door!"
"No we ain't," said Tom, bluntly, as he entered; "but we've brought back
Miss Margery all right, and she'll be glad of some grub presently, and
so shall we by and by I'm thinking,--eh, Master Charley? But just do
you first, as soon as you have got your five senses back, run up and
tell the captain and missis. They'll not be sorry to hear the news, at
all events."
In another minute Margery was in her parents' arms, and they were
thanking Heaven that she had been safely restored to them.
Little Margery had kept up her courage wonderfully, from the moment she
was seized till her return home. She said that she was awake and
thought that she saw Becky collecting her clothes, when suddenly she was
taken up in the arms of a woman; she supposed her mouth was gagged and
her eyes blinded, and she was carried swiftly along, down into some damp
place and along passages into the open air, and finally into the cottage
where Charley had found her. She had had no fear about being ill
treated, for she did not think any one would hurt a little girl like
herself. She was very grateful, however, to Charley and Tom for all the
risk they had run to rescue her.
Tom and Charley's adventures created great surprise, for the captain
could not conceive how they could have got out of the vaults; and it was
not until they had all together paid another visit to it that they
discovered the aperture lately blocked up with loose stones, and then at
length guessed that it had been done by the smugglers to cut off
pursuit. The result of the whole proceeding was the very reverse of
what the smugglers had expected. In their foolish ignorance they
fancied that they could frighten away a sensible man, like Captain
Askew, from the Tower by their notable scheme of making it be supposed
that it was haunted.
We may be surprised at their gross representations of ghosts and
spirits, but which were undoubtedly exact imitations of their own
conceptions of such things; nor does it at all follow, that because some
of them ventured to appear in the character of ghosts, they did not
firmly believe in their existence. Probably their own superstitious
fears would as easily have been worked on as they hoped to work on those
of others.
A considerable amount of the property of the gang, which they had not
time to remove, was seized when they left their chief stronghold and
place of rendezvous on the coast, where they had long defied the
vigilance of the revenue officers, and many of them were driven away
from the coast. The entrance to the cave from the sea was carefully
blocked up, so that no one could again undermine the Tower, and attempt
to play off such tricks on the inmates.
Mr Ludlow, accompanied by Stephen, rode over to the Tower to
congratulate his tenants on the recovery of their daughter. "I am very
glad to see the young lady back, and safe, and well; but," he added, "I
have a bone to pick with her. What do you think, captain? She has
actually been endeavouring to persuade my only son to go to sea, that he
may spend his life in searching for your poor boy, whom she asserts is
still alive in some island of the Pacific, either in consequence of
reading a child's book, or from some cock-and-bull story which she heard
from an old sailor one day, who was never afterwards to be found to
corroborate the truth of his narrative. I wish bygones to be bygones,
and I would rather not have alluded to the subject, but I really do not
know what powerful influence she may exert over him, though I cannot say
that at present he has any fancy for the undertaking; but I wish, at all
events, to nip the project in the bud."
As may be supposed, Captain Askew was not a little astonished at this
address, while he could not but be sensible of the want of feeling of
the man who could thus coldly speak of his long-lost son, that son who
had been banished in consequence of Mr Ludlow's own stern decree. "I
was not aware that my little Margery entertained any such notion," he
answered mildly. "Did she, I should have supposed that your son,
Stephen, however much she may esteem him as a friend, was the very last
person she would have selected for the scheme."
"Oh, the foolish boy lent her a book, a copy, I believe, of Defoe's
`Robinson Crusoe,' and as he describes a person living on an island for
a number of years by himself, she has taken it into her head that her
brother may have escaped shipwreck, and be still alive on one of the
many islands which I understand stud parts of the Pacific."
"I have only to repeat that my daughter has not mentioned the subject to
me, and I will undertake that she does not induce your son to act
contrary to your wishes," answered Captain Askew.
"Very well, neighbour, I will trust to your word," said Mr Ludlow, in
his usual supercilious manner, which, to a man of a temper less mild
than the captain, would have been very galling. "I, of course, have
other designs for him than to lead the life of a sailor."
When Mr Ludlow and Stephen had taken their departure, he could not help
repeating to himself, "he may be alive on one of the many islands which
stud parts of the Pacific. The sailor's story may be true, or it may be
only dear Margery's fancy. It is but natural that she should indulge in
it; I would that I had health and strength, and the means to go out and
search for the dear boy--dear whether alive or dead."
That evening the captain spoke of their boy to his wife. He would not
venture to raise her hopes. He scarcely hinted at the possibility of
his having escaped from the wreck, and yet he spoke of such things
having happened to others. Margaret's reply was, "God's will be done.
He knows what is kept for us in all respects."
In the meantime, Stephen had told Margery that his father objected
decidedly to his becoming a sailor, that he might go and look for her
brother Jack; an announcement which the young lady received with much
dignity, and an expression of contempt on her pretty countenance which
it was not wont to wear.
"Of course, Mr Stephen Ludlow, you are right in doing what your father
wishes," she observed; "and now I think over the matter you are not at
all fitted to become a sailor. Sailors are true friends--generous,
brave, kind, and liberal; I was mistaken when I supposed that you were
likely to possess those qualities. Good-bye. I do not want to quarrel
with you, but now you know what I think."
Margery was not aware how severe her words might have sounded. Stephen
did not fully understand their meaning, but he felt very sheepish, and
had an idea that it would probably be some time before he again paid a
visit to Stormount Tower. Margery had, however, far from abandoned her
idea. She had for some time naturally thought that Charley Blount would
be the proper person to perform her behests, and she felt certain that
he would very gladly undertake the task she might assign him. She put
the matter before him, and to her great delight he at once undertook her
mission.
"I cannot say that your brother Jack is alive," he observed; "but this I
promise, that if he is I will do my utmost to find him and bring him
home."