He noticed my trembling and laughed.
"Bah, Sep!" he said; "this is nothing. I'm afraid some of our poor
fellows there are worse. Ah, who's that? Be ready, men; we must
retreat, we are not in fighting trim."
For we could see a dark figure coming up after us, and it seemed to be
an enemy; but directly after half a volley was fired at the figure, and
we saw it drop and roll over.
"Down!" said my father with a groan. "Oh, if we were only fresh and
strong! But they are six to one, my lads, and it would be madness."
"Look, father!" I cried pointing; "they are going back."
That was plain enough, and that they were going rapidly in answer to
shouts of recall. So, encouraged by this, we were about to run down and
help the man who had been shot, when by the glow of the fire we saw him
rise up on his knees, and directly after there were a couple of flashes
and reports, as he fired his pistols after the retreating foe, and then
began to crawl up towards where we were.
"Why, it's Bigley, father," I said excitedly. "Ahoy!"
"Ahoy!" came back; and I saw my school-fellow get up and begin limping
towards us as fast as he could come.
I ran to meet him, but stopped before I had gone many yards, for the
painful sensation in my side checked me, and I was glad to hold my hand
pressed upon the place, and wait till he came up.
"Oh, I am glad!" he cried, catching my hand. "I thought--no, I won't
say what I thought."
"But you are hurt," I said. "Is it your leg?"
"Yes, I feel just as if I was a gull, Sep, and someone had shot me."
"And you are shot?"
"Yes, but only in the leg. Is the captain up there?"
"Yes," I said, "and three or four of the men. I say, Big, what a
terrible night!"
"Yes," he replied, in a curious tone of voice; "but, I'm glad it's the
French, and that no one else has done it."
My father had come down to where we were seated, and made us follow him
to the shelter of the rocks.
"They may catch sight of you, my lads," he said, "and turn you into
marks."
"Are you going to stop them now, captain?" said Bigley, following.
"What are you going to do?"
"I'm ready to do anything, my lad," said my father sadly; "but what can
half a dozen injured men, whose wounds are getting stiff, do against
half a hundred sound?"
Bigley sighed.
"Couldn't we sit up here in the rocks and pick them all off with the
carbines, sir?" he said suddenly.
"Yes, my lad, perhaps we could shoot down a few if we had the carbines,
which we have not. No: we can do nothing but sit down and wait till we
get well, comforting ourselves with the thought that we have done our
best."
We were watching the French sailors now, not a man showing the slightest
inclination to retreat farther, but standing like beaten dogs growling
and ready to rush at their assailants if they could get the chance.
Swords had been sheathed, but only while pistols were recharged; and
then, as soon as these weapons were placed ready in belts, the cutlasses
were drawn again; and just as they had obeyed the order to retreat, the
men would have followed my father back, wounded as they were, to another
attack.
Down below the Frenchmen were as busy as bees. We could hear the
crackle and snap of wood as they seemed to be tearing it out of the
counting-house; and then it was evident what they had been doing, for a
torch danced here and there, and stopped in one place and seemed to
double in size, to quadruple, and at last there was a leaping flame
running up and a pile of wood began to blaze.
"There go years of labour!" said my father, speaking unconsciously so
that the men could hear. "One night to ruin everything!"
"Nay, captain, such of us as is left 'll soon build un up again," said
the foreman. "Women and children's safe, and there's stuff enough in
the hillside to pay for all they've done."
"Ah! So there is, my brave fellow," said my father warmly. "You are
teaching me philosophy."
"Am I, captain?" said the man innocently. "Think they'll find the
silver?"
"I'm watching to see," said my father; "I don't know yet. Five minutes
will show. I fear they know where to look."
Bigley was leaning on my shoulder at this time, and he gave me quite a
pinch as his hand closed, but he did not speak; and there was no need,
for I understood his thoughts, poor fellow! And what he must be
feeling.
As the fires at the cottages were beginning to sink, the one the
Frenchmen had lit by the counting-house blazed up more brightly. They
kept feeding it with furniture, joists, and broken planks, about a dozen
men running to and fro tearing out the broken wood-work and clearing the
interior till we could see that everything had been swept away; and then
there was a buzz of excitement by the ruined building while the hammer
and clangour of crowbars could be heard, followed by the tearing up of
more boards; and I knew as well as if I could see that the trap-door
leading to the cellar was being demolished.
"They know where the silver be, captain," said our foreman; and once
more Bigley started and I felt him spasmodically grip my shoulder.
"Yes," said my father between his teeth; "they know where the silver is.
A planned thing, my man--a planned thing."
"None o' us had anything to do with it, captain, I swear," cried the
foreman excitedly. "There wasn't a lad here as would have put 'em up to
where it was hid."
"Hush, man! What are you saying?" cried my father. "As if it were
likely that I should suspect any of the brave fellows who have been
ready to give their lives in the defence of my works."
"But can't we get the rest together, captain, and stop 'em, or cut 'em
off, or sink their boats, or something?"
"No, my lad, I'm afraid we can do nothing more than see them--Ah! They
have found it!" said my father as a loud shout of triumph rang out from
below. "Well, as you say, there's plenty more in the hillside, and we
must set to work again, I suppose, and take warning by this and never
keep a store here."
It was all plain enough. The silver was found, and the little boxes in
which the ingots were packed in saw-dust were carried out and stood down
by the blazing fire--twenty of them; and just as this was done there was
the thud of a cannon away off the mouth of the Gap.
"Signal for recall," said my father.
It was quickly obeyed, for the French formed up round twenty of their
party who shouldered the boxes. Four men with drawn swords went first,
as if they were making a showy procession in the blaze of the burning
fire; then came the twenty men carrying silver, then six more with drawn
swords; then a group of about ten who seemed to be wounded, and four
more who were being carried; and lastly some twenty or thirty, with
swords flashing in the firelight, to form a rearguard.
"_En avant_!" rang out clearly in the night air, and away they went
chattering and making plenty of noise, just as a second gun was fired
and seemed to make the air throb as the report echoed up the valley.
"Why, there must be nigh a hundred on 'em. We may have a shot at 'em
now, captain, mayn't us?" cried the foreman.
"What for, my man?" said my father kindly. "If we could save the silver
I would say yes, but it would be only spilling blood unnecessarily. We
made a brave defence and were beaten. We could not master them now,
even if we could fire volleys every five minutes. It would only mean a
fierce fight, and we should be hunted down one by one for nothing. No:
they have won. Let them go now, but I should like to see them embark.
A good-sized French man-of-war must be off the Gap."
"Come on, then, captain, and let's get over the mouth."
"No," said my father. "You go with my son and one of the men, but I
forbid firing. See all you can. I must stay and look after our poor
fellows here, unless they've taken them away as prisoners."
"Ah! I forgot them," said our man. "Come along, Master Sep. Let's go
down here and cross, and get on the cliff path."
"Will you go, Big?" I said.
"No, I couldn't walk," he replied. "I can hardly get down here."
"I'll look after him," said my father. "Go on, but take care not to be
caught."
"We'll mind that, captain," was the reply; and we descended as rapidly
as pain would let us, reached the stream, crossed the path the Frenchmen
had taken, and went on diagonally up the slope, getting higher above the
enemy at every step, and talking together in a low tone about the fight,
and how the poor fellows were whom we had missed.
"I hope and pray," said our foreman, "as no one ar'n't killed; and, my
lor', how my arm do hurt!"
"So do I. Poor fellows!" I said, "how well they all fought!"
"Ay, they did. But the captain, Master Sep, he was like a lion all the
time. Why, lad, what's the matter?"
"I--I don't want to make too much fuss," I panted; "but I'm broken
somewhere, and it hurts horribly."
"Sit you down, lad, and wait till we come back," said the foreman
kindly.
"No," I said, grinding my teeth, "I won't give up;" and I trudged on,
knowing as well as could be that one or two of my ribs were broken when
I was crushed against the wall, just before it gave way.
And all the time below us to the left wound the line of Frenchmen. It
was so dark that we could not have told that they were there, but for
the low babel of sounds that arose of voices and trampling feet, while
now and then a sound more painful to us still came up in the form of a
groan or a faint cry of pain, and after one of these outbursts the
foreman said:
"I wonder whether that be one of our lads."
"Nay, not it," said our companion roughly; "it be a Frenchy. One of our
lads wouldn't make a noise like that if you cut his head off."
I felt sure he was right, and I could not help smiling, but I was in too
much pain to speak.
And so we trudged on, our paths diverging in a way that took us higher
and higher towards where the track curved round the cliff at the east
side of the Gap, while theirs, of course, kept down by the stream to the
beach.
It was a weary painful walk, for the excitement was now gone, and my
companions' wounds were stiffening, and giving them as much pain as my
chest did me; but no one murmured, and we kept on till we were at the
mouth of the Gap, high up above where four boats were lying, while half
a mile away we could see the lights and dimly make out the hull of a
large vessel.
In spite of our pain we had made most progress, and were waiting some
minutes before the head of the column came up, and there, as we seated
ourselves hundreds of feet above, we could watch the embarkation of the
little force, and see in a dim way the boats run in, hear the plashing
of feet in the shallow water, and then the sound of the boxes as they
were laid in the bottom of one of the boats, this boat being then rowed
out about a dozen yards to wait for the others.
"Only wish it was a storm instead of a calm smooth time," said our
foreman. "Everything seems for 'em. I can't see why the Ripplemouth
people haven't been over to help us. They must have seen the fires."
"No," I said, "I don't suppose they would. See how deep down in the
valley the cottages are."
It was quite dark where we were sitting, but there appeared to be a pale
light on the sea which enabled us to make out all that was going on
below; and we watched the boats fill, and one by one push off, the
wounded men being divided between the four. It was plain enough, and it
made me shudder when some poor fellow was lifted moaning in by his
comrades, who did not seem to be any too tender in their ways.
At last all were on board, and the word was given to start. There was a
loud plashing as the oars dropped into the water, and we saw one boat
lead off, and then a second follow, then the third and the fourth in
single file, and making haste to join the big vessel, upon which signal
lights were burning.
"Why, they don't know the way," I exclaimed, as I saw them bear off at
once to the eastward instead of following right out the meandering
channel of the little river.
"Don't know the way?" cried our foreman; "why, it's plain enough.
They're at sea."
"They're over a lot of dangerous rocks," I said excitedly; "and if there
don't happen to be water enough they'll come upon the Goat and Kids, and
perhaps be upset."
"No fear," said the foreman; "they'll know better than that."
They were now about four hundred yards from the shore, and fading away
into the darkness, heading for the lights of the French ship, and far to
the east now of the course of the river, where it ran down through the
sand and shingle--a course the lugger always followed when going out or
coming in. But all seemed to be well with the boats, the regular beat
of whose oars we could hear though they were quite out of sight, when
all at once there came out of the darkness a tremendous yell, and we all
started to our feet in alarm.
We could see nothing, but as we listened to the cries for help, and the
shouting and splashing of the water, it was evident that an accident had
occurred, and it needed very little imagination to picture the men of an
overset boat struggling in the water, and being helped into the others.
"There's one of them capsized on the Goat Rock," I said excitedly.
"Think so, my lad?" said our foreman hoarsely.
"I'm sure of it," I cried. "Oh! If the day would break and we could
only see."
As if in response to my wish there was a faint gleam out in the darkness
just like a pale star, and then a blue glow which lit up the scene with
a curiously sickly glare.
It made everything very plain, and by this light we could see that there
were three crowded boats out in the blue circle of light, while we could
just see the fourth beyond them upside down, the keel just above the
water, and three men seated astride.
"Regular capsize," said our foreman. "Hope none of the wounded chaps
aren't drowned. Don't mind about the rest."
The blue light burned out, but not before we had plainly seen that it
was burning in the bows of the largest boat, and that the men on that
capsized had been dragged into one of the others. Then, as we listened,
the babble of voices ceased, the plash of oars recommenced, and
gradually died away.
"Well," I said, "we may as well go back and report what we have seen.
They've gone now."
"Yes," growled our foreman, holding his hand to his wound, "and they've
left their marks behind."