THE ESCAPE
Pierre was in a great hurry. He pressed all sail on the schooner and
started the engine, with the result that she began to cover the
course at a great rate. A new moon was in its first quarter, but the
sky was clouded, as it usually is on that coast, and acted as an
effectual screen. Nevertheless, there was a lightening of the
intense blackness which had marked the previous voyage.
The ship carried lights until she picked up the mainland, then she
cloaked them. Pierre was taking the shortest route to the cave and
was hugging the coast, which he evidently knew by heart, to use a
local phrase. No man not completely confident as to his knowledge of
that coast would have dared sail as Pierre did that night. The land
loomed up visibly and now and then the crew even caught sight of a
white fringe of breakers.
There was some excitement on board, and a little grumbling. The men
hated to have their leave cut short, but the moodiness caused by this
was to a great extent submerged in curiosity as to the reason for the
sudden change of plans. Pierre never did anything without a very
good reason, and it was not likely that he would risk entering the
cave with the tide still two hours to fall without there being
urgency of an unusual kind.
Dare and Ben shared in the curiosity and excitement. But their
chagrin at having failed to get away from the _Mary_ in time to be
able to make use of their knowledge in regard to the cave's
whereabouts, was great. Ben was able to resign himself to
circumstances more than Dare, who, in fact, could not resign himself
at all.
All the while the _Mary_ was forging along the coast, a white wave at
her prow, he was trying desperately to think of some way of escaping
and getting word to his father.
Could one escape in the cave? Or would Pierre lock them up again as
he had done formerly, as soon as they neared the coast where it was
situated? He eyed the land, which loomed up darkly. It was no more
than a quarter of a mile away. If he were ashore there he could cut
across country and get to Saltern in an hour. He knew the lie of the
land well enough for that, for he had observed it closely as they had
passed it on their way to St. Pierre.
But the land might as well have been ten miles away for all the
chance there was of his reaching it. Quarter of a mile! He could
swim it easily on a night like this. At that thought his heart
leaped. Why not swim it? But how to escape so as to avoid pursuit?
He took a step backwards in his excitement and stumbled. His hand
caught the rail and he steadied himself. The incident showed him a
way out. He would pretend to fall overboard. He could do it easily,
shout "cramp," dive, and come up some distance away from the
schooner. Then, after waiting for the excitement which would follow
his loss to cool down, he could strike out for the land.
He had no sooner visualized the feat than he decided on it, despite
its hazardous nature. It was a chance, and a sporting chance, to get
the news to his father in time to plan the great coup that would end,
he felt sure, in the capture of the smugglers. Though his father was
lame, he could go to the cave by boat. A crew of loyal men could be
raked up somehow. He did not stop to think much of these
difficulties. His great desire was to get word to Saltern.
He had no time to lose and he had to plan quickly. Should he confide
in Ben? He decided against it. Ben would, he knew, forbid the
attempt, and he had promised his father to obey him. There was
nothing for it but to let Ben remain in ignorance. It was better for
the success of the plan that he should. It would be hard on him, but
it could not be helped.
The _Mary_ was now nearing Saltern. Dare went to the fo'c'sle, and
taking off his heavy boots put on a pair of loose slippers, which
could be kicked off easily once he was in the water.
Trousers and a shirt would thus be his only impediments. Having made
these preparations he went on deck. The ship was in darkness. He
looked ashore and could just descry a line of breakers which
betokened, he hoped, a beach. Now was his chance! By the greatest
good luck the mate at this moment gave the order to pump the ship.
He told Dare to draw a bucket of water. Dare jumped at the chance to
fake an accident. The deck was sufficiently dark for his purpose.
Dare approached the side and in the shadow of the rigging, which
obscured his movements, threw the bucket overboard. He began drawing
it up hand over hand; then, as he leaned forward to take it in over
the rail, he pretended to slip. He gave a shout of alarm and fell
into the sea, taking a perfect header.
He dived deep and swam under water towards shore until he was forced
to come to the surface. When he emerged the _Mary_ was already some
distance away, but her engine had been reversed and there were sounds
of confusion rising from her deck. Evidently there was some doubt as
to who had fallen overboard. He gave a shout of "Cramp!"
Immediately there was an answering hail. He shouted "Help!" more
feebly, then remained silent and attended upon the event.
He heard suddenly Ben's voice, hoarse with terror: "Show a light!
Lower a boat! The boy's drowning!"
And closely following came Pierre's voice: "Knock that old fool on
the head! He'll rouse the whole coast. How'd that boy fall
overboard? Can you see him? Where is he? Give a shout and if he
answers we'll lower a boat."
A guarded shout rang out. Silence followed it. Dare heard someone
say: "I heard him shout 'cramp.' He's done for."
"Looks like there's nothing we can do," said Pierre. "We might as
well get under way again. We've got no time to lose. Lower the
spars."
At this moment Ben, who had evidently been stunned by a blow, began
to recover and shout again.
"Put a sock in his mouth!" Pierre could be heard exclaiming. "Take
him below and lock him up." Then the _Mary_ began to move ahead once
again.
Dare, satisfied of the success of his ruse, began to swim shorewards
with a steady stroke. The water was smooth under the land and there
was no wind, but the sea was terribly cold and he began to fear that
he would have a real attack of cramp if he remained in for long.
He had never swum at night before, and at first he felt overwhelmed
by the tremendous isolation bred by the darkness. He felt pressed
down by it also, and began to realize for the first time what a puny
force was his, as he lay in the arms of the eternal mother. Would
she bear him up or would she smother him in her embrace?
His imagination began to exaggerate the dangers before him, and
suddenly he began to lose confidence. Was he swimming in the right
direction? How was he to know? He had dived, and while under water
might have turned seawards instead of landwards. It was with great
relief that he heard the sound of the breakers ahead of him.
Then he began to be haunted by a fear that he would not find a beach.
Suppose he found the land guarded by an unscalable mountain of rock?
But the beach was there. He had seen its white fringe of breakers.
He might be able to see it now. He stood upright, treading water,
and raised himself as high as possible, but could see nothing but the
cliff-head looming repellently in the gloom high up above him.
However, it was something to see even that. At least he was sure now
he was swimming in the right direction. He must go on. He swam
forward, vigorously at first, then less so as the long minutes
passed. The surf was near enough now to deafen him to other sounds,
and the sea rose in waves which rolled landward and broke, not
against a wall of rock, but on a beach. To his great joy and
thankfulness, he had found his landing--a narrow strip of shingle
between two upright cliffs.
Dare put extra energy into his enfeebled stroke, warmed and
strengthened by his success. The last few yards were the most
difficult. He was thrown shorewards in headlong manner, then sucked
back yards more than he had gained. Eventually, however, he got near
enough the shore to touch the shingle. He stood erect and began to
run forward. A sea caught him, knocked him off his feet, and threw
him high and dry on the beach.
He lay panting there just long enough to recover his breath, then he
began to eye the cliff before him. Was it scalable? It did not rise
precipitously, like the cliffs which had their base in deep water.
This much he could see In those moments when the young moon peeped
from behind a cloud. It sloped back until it merged almost
imperceptibly with the grassy headland. Once within reach of that
upper incline and he had as good as won through. But before that
could be gained the rocky base, steep enough to daunt even the
boldest climber, had to be negotiated.
Every moment was of value now, and as soon as he had recovered his
breath he set about exploring. The stones cut his feet cruelly. He
felt his way along the base of the cliff until he came to a
declivity. Water ran down it in the wet season, but now it was dry
and filled with stones, dead twigs, and other rubbish. He felt that
this would be a good take-off for his climb. He might even follow it
to the top, if the loose rubble in it did not betray his footing.
He made a light leap, and using hands and feet, managed to secure a
hold. He straddled his legs as much as possible, and pressing his
body well forward so as to maintain his balance, made a move upwards.
The headland seemed an immense distance away. The rock cut his feet
more cruelly than the beach and made his hold precarious. But he
held firmly to his endeavour. There was no going back now. He had
to go upwards or fall. So he went upwards. Step by step, feeling
his way, testing every hold, he mounted towards the cliff-top. It
was slow, agonizing work, and the concentration needed very
fortunately prevented him from thinking overmuch of the peril of his
position. Once, about half-way up, he had a sudden vision of the
cliff and himself, hanging like a fly to its walls, suspended over
the waiting beach below. And suddenly he looked down. The sea lay
like a lake of ink, washing the beach with a white cloth. He grew
dizzy at the thought of falling. Then, fearing the panic which
gripped his vitals, he put all idea of falling from him and held
tenaciously to his purpose.
As he mounted, the cliff grew less steep and facilitated his
progress. Eventually, in reaching up a hand for a hold, he touched
grass and knew that his climb was near its end. He quickened his
movements. Gradually the rock was left behind. He fell on his knees
and began to crawl; the cliff was still too steep for him to stand
erect. The grass was soothing to his bruised feet. He used hands
and knees and feet in negotiating the slippery, grassy slope, and
after a last breath-taking effort reached the top, rolling himself on
to the level headland, where he lay temporarily exhausted.
His intention, once he had recovered sufficiently to make a move, was
to strike inland, and cut across the wooded head of land which
separated him from Saltern. He did not know how far he was from the
town, but he estimated it at three miles. He thought at first the
best plan was to take the short cut, though it entailed the risk of
getting lost in the wood. The discovery of a goat track on the edge
of the cliff, however, decided him to take the longer but more
certain, though far more dangerous, route along the shore. The goat
track would, he thought, enable him to skirt the coast successfully.
And he had only to follow it to reach his objective, whereas in the
dark wood there was probably little to guide his steps, and he might
end by being lost altogether and spending the night in futile
searching for a way out.
Having decided on the goat track, he proceeded to prepare for it. He
knew he could not long walk in his stockinged feet over such a path.
He therefore stripped off his shirt, tore it in two pieces and
wrapped up his feet as best he could. The result was very
cumbersome, but much more comfortable; and he set out confidently on
his jaunt.
Although the night was a dark one, it was not so hopelessly black as
to preclude all idea of direction. Dare could descry large solid
objects at a distance of ten yards, and the path was dimly visible
for two yards or so. This helped him a little, but he had to go very
slowly.
There were times when a slip of the foot would have meant a fall of
some hundreds of feet; there were other times when the path ran level
and free from obstacles, well away from the edge of the cliff. But
for the most part it skirted the precipice in a nerve-racking fashion.
The transforming of his shirt into bandages for his feet left the
upper part of his body bare, and he flinched at times as the branches
of obstructing boughs tore his skin. Fortunately the night was warm
and he did not suffer from exposure, despite his recent swim.
He was in splendid condition, and although he had accomplished two
dangerous feats and was engaged on another, he felt no fatigue. He
experienced an exhilaration which made effort seem almost play.
The darkness was his greatest obstacle. It hid the dangers of the
track from him and caused his imagination to play nervy tricks. It
made boulders take on the form of crouching creatures and stunted
trees appear as men. There were several occasions when he startled
and was startled by sheep and goats; but on the whole his path was
free from living creatures, except those created by his imagination.
Then suddenly, as he was mounting an incline, he saw a man rise out
of the earth before him. He could hardly credit his senses with the
apparition, but as if to prove to him that he was not dreaming,
another vague shadowy form rose up and followed the first inland.
The darkness hid Dare from them, for he was in the shadow cast by
some trees, while they were on the high back of the ridge towards
which he was mounting. Excited by the possibility the appearance of
these nocturnal figures presented, Dare flung himself down on the
turf and waited. Another figure appeared, then another and another,
until he had counted ten. Then there was an end.
Each figure had had a hump-like protuberance on its back, and Dare
knew as well as if he had been told by Pierre himself that he had
seen the smugglers carrying their illicit spoil to their cache.
This incident tempted him to side-track his mission to Saltern and to
make a personal investigation of the cache. Fortunately wisdom
returned to him in time to prevent him doing this, and he kept to his
original venture. He crept up behind the opening in the ground. He
would have liked to take a peep down into the cave, but caution
forbade. He stopped only long enough to tie his pocket handkerchief
to an adjacent bush, then hurried on towards Saltern.
He had an idea that when he passed the next ridge he would see the
town. And this proved to be so. To his great joy he saw Saltern
light blinking its warning, and, farther off, the lights of a ship at
anchor. The town itself was indicated by one or two late lights,
such as those which had marked it on his arrival from St. John's.
Spurred by the thought of a successful end to his endeavour, he left
the goat track and struck down straight towards the harbour. The
trees had thinned out now sufficiently to enable him to see his way
easily, and he soon found himself on a grassy slope which ended at
the shore.
He ran down the last few yards, his momentum carrying him knee-deep
into the water. He then had to cross the harbour. He did not like
the idea of swimming. He had had enough of that for one night. So
he set about searching the shore feverishly for a boat, and as they
were fairly plentiful he soon found one.
It did not take him long to row to the town side. Once there he
hastily tied the boat to the quay and set out at a run for the
Customs House.