RED DAWN
I heard steps, soft as snowflakes, go along the deck above me; for an
instant they paused by the open door at the head of my stairway; then
they went on again and all was silent as before. But in that silence,
above the gentle lapping of the water against the side of the yawl, I
heard the furious thumping of my own heart--and I did not wonder at
it, nor was I then, nor am I now ashamed of the fear that made it
thump. Clearly, whatever else it might mean, if Baxter and the
Frenchman were, as I surely believed them to be, soundly drugged, Miss
Raven and I were at the positive mercy of a pack of Chinese
adventurers who would probably stick at nothing.
But my problem--one sufficient to wrack every fibre of my brain--was,
what were they after? The Chinese gentleman in the flamboyant pyjamas
had without doubt, repaired to his compatriots in the galley, forward:
at that moment they were, of course, holding some unholy conference.
Were they going to murder Baxter and the Frenchman for the sake of the
swag now safely on board? It was possible: I had heard many a tale far
less so. No doubt the supreme spirit was a man of subtlety and craft;
so, too, most likely was our friend Lo Chuh Fen; the other two would
not be wanting. And if, of these other two, Wing, as Miss Raven had
confidently surmised and as I thought it possible, was one, then,
indeed, there would be brains enough and to spare for the carrying out
of any adventure. It seemed to me as I lay there, quaking and sweating
in sheer fright--I, a defenceless, quiet, peace-loving gentleman of
bookish tastes, who scarcely knew one end of a revolver from the
other--that what was likely was that the Chinese were going to round
on their English and French associates, collar the loot for
themselves, and sail the yawl--Heaven alone knew where! But--in that
case, what was going to become of me and my helpless companion? It was
not likely that these Easterns would treat us with the consideration
which we had received from the queer, eccentric, somewhat
muddle-headed Netherfield Baxter, who--it struck me with odd
inconsequence at that inopportune moment--was certainly a combination
of Dick Turpin, Gil Blas, and Don Quixote.
I suppose it was nearly an hour that passed: it may have been more; it
may have been less; what I know is that it gave me some idea of what
an accused man may feel who, waiting in a cell below, wonders what the
foreman of a jury is going to say when he is called upstairs once more
to the dock which he has vacated pending that jury's deliberations.
Once or twice I thought of daring everything, rousing Miss Raven, and
attempting an escape by means of the boat which no doubt lay at the
side of the yawl. But reflection suggested that so desperate a deed
would only mean getting a bullet through me, and perhaps through her
as well. Then I speculated on my chances of making a sinuous way along
the deck on my hands and knees, or on my stomach, snake-fashion, with
the idea of listening at the hatch of the galley--reflection, again,
warned me that such an adventure would as likely as not end up with a
few inches of cold steel in my side or through my gullet. So there I
lay, sweating with fear, rapidly disintegrating as to nerve-power,
becoming a lump of moral rag-and-bone--and suddenly, unheralded by the
slightest sound, I saw the figure of a man on my stairway, his outline
silhouetted against the sky and the stars.
It was not because of any bravery on my part--I am sure of that--but
through sheer fright that, before I had the least idea of what I was
doing, I had thrown myself clear of rugs and pillows, sprung to my
feet, made one frenzied leap across the bit of intervening space and
clutched my intruder by his arms before his softly-padded feet touched
the floor of the cabin. My own breath was coming in gasps--but the
response to my frenzy was quiet and cool as an autumnal afternoon.
"Can you row a boat?"
I shall never forget the mental douche which dashed itself over me in
that clear, yet scarcely perceptible whisper, accompanied as it was by
a ghost-like laugh of sheer amusement. I released my grip, staring in
the starlight at my visitor. Lo Chuh Fen!
"Yes!" I answered, steadying my voice and keeping it down to as low
tones as his own. "Yes--I can!"
He pointed to the door behind which lay Miss Raven.
"Wake missie--as quietly as possible," he whispered. "Tell her get
ready--come on deck--make no noise. All ready for you--then you go
ashore and away, see? Not good for you to be here longer."
"No danger to--her?" I asked him.
"No danger to anybody, you do as I say," he answered. "All ready for
you--nothing to do but come on deck, forward; get into the boat, be
off. Now!"
Without another word he glided up the stairway and disappeared. For a
few seconds I stood irresolute. Was it a trick, a plant? Should we be
safe on deck--or targets for Chinese bullets, or receptacles for
Chinese knives? Maybe!--yet--
I suddenly made up my mind. It was but one step to the door of the
little inner cabin--I scraped on its panels. It opened instantly--a
crack.
"Yes?" whispered Miss Raven.
I remembered then that if need arose she was to do unquestioningly
anything I told her to do.
"Dress at once and come out," I said. "Be quick!"
"I've never been undressed," she answered. "I lay down in my clothes."
"Then come, just now," I commanded. "Wait for nothing!"
She was out of the room at once and by my side in the gloom. I laid a
hand on her arm, giving its plump softness a reassuring pressure.
"Don't be afraid!" I whispered. "Follow me on deck. We're going."
"Going!" she said. "Leaving?"
"Come along!" said I.
I went before her up the stairway and out on the open deck. The night
was particularly clear; the stars very bright; the patch of water
between the yawl and the shore lay before us calm and dark; we could
see the woods above the cove quite plainly, and at the edge of them a
ribbon of white, the silver-sanded beach. And also, at the forward
part of the vessel we were leaving I saw, or fancied I saw, shadowy
forms--the Chinese were going to see us off.
But one form was not shadowy, nor problematical. Chuh was there,
awaiting us, his arms filled with rugs. Without a word he motioned us
to follow, preceded us along the side of the yawl to the boat, went
before us into it, helped us down, settled us, put the oars into my
hands, climbed out again, and leaned his yellow face down at me.
"You pull straight ahead," he murmured. "Good landing place straight
before you: dry place on beach, too--morning come soon; you get away
then through woods."
"The boat?" I asked him.
"You leave boat there--anywhere," he answered. "Boat not wanted
again--we go, soon as high water over bar. Hope you get young missie
safe home."
"Bless you!" I said under my breath. Then, remembering that I had some
money in my pocket--three or four loose sovereigns as luck would have
it, I thrust a hand therein, pulled them out, forced them into the
man's claw-like fingers. I heard him chuckle softly--then his head
disappeared behind the rail of the yawl, and I shoved the boat off,
and for the next few minutes bent to those oars as I had certainly
never bent to any previous labour, mental or physical, in my life.
And Miss Raven, seeing my earnestness, said nothing, but quietly took
the tiller and steered us in a straight line for the spot which the
Chinaman had indicated. Neither of us--strange as it may seem--spoke
one single word until, at the end of half an hour's steady pull, the
boat's nose ran on to the shingly beach, beneath a fringe of dwarf oak
that came right down to the edge of the shore. I sprang out, with a
feeling of thankfulness that it would be hard to describe--and for a
good reason found my tongue once more.
"Great Scott!" I exclaimed. "I've left my boots in that cabin!"
Despite the strange situation in which we were still placed, Miss
Raven's sense of humour asserted itself; she laughed.
"Your boots!" she said. "Whatever will you do? These stones!--and the
long walk home?"
"There are things to be thought of before that," said I. "We're still
in the middle of the night. But this boat--do you think you can help
me to drag it up the beach?"
Between us, the boat being a light one, we managed to pull it across
the pebbles and under the low cliff beneath the overhanging fringe of
the wood. In the uncertain light--for there was no moon and since our
setting out from the yawl masses of cloud had come up from the
south-east to obscure the stars--the wood looked impenetrably black.
"We shall have to wait here until the dawn comes," I remarked. "We
can't find our way through the wood in this darkness--I can't even
recollect the path, if there was one, by which they brought us down
here from the ruins. You had better sit in the boat and make yourself
comfortable with those rugs. Considerate of them, at any rate, to
provide us with those!"
She got into the boat again and I wrapped one rug round her knees and
placed another about her shoulders.
"And you?" she asked.
"I must do a bit of amateur boot-making," I answered. "I'm going to
cut this third rug into strips and bind them about my feet--can't walk
over stones and thorns and thistles, to say nothing of the moorland
track, without some protection."
I got out my pocket-knife and sitting on the side of the boat began my
task; for a few minutes she watched me, in silence.
"What does all this mean!" she said at last, suddenly. "Why have they
let us go?"
"No idea," I answered. "But--things have happened since Baxter said
good-night to us. Listen!" And I went on to tell her of all that had
taken place on the yawl since the return of the Frenchman and his
Chinese companion. "What does it look like?" I concluded. "Doesn't it
seem as if the Chinese intend foul play to those two?"
"Do you mean--that they intend to--to murder them?" she asked in a
half-frightened whisper. "Surely not that?"
"I don't see that a man who has lived the life that Baxter has can
expect anything but a violent end," I replied callously. "Yes, I
suppose that's what I do mean. I think the Chinese mean to get rid of
the two others and get away with the swag--cleverly enough, no doubt."
"Horrible!" she murmured.
"Inevitable!" said I. "To my mind, the whole atmosphere was one
of--that sort of thing. We're most uncommonly lucky."
She became silent again, and remained so for some time, while I went
on at my task, binding the strips of rug about my feet and ankles, and
fastening them, puttee fashion, around my legs.
"I don't understand it!" she exclaimed, after several minutes had gone
by. "Surely those men must know that we, once free of them, would be
sure to give the alarm. We weren't under any promise to them, whatever
we were to Baxter."
"I don't understand anything," I said. "All I know is the surface of
the situation. But that gentle villain who saw us off the yawl said
that they were sailing at high water--only waiting until the tide was
deep on the bar outside there. And they could get a long way, north or
south or east, before we could set anybody on to them. Supposing they
did get rid of Baxter and his Frenchman, what's to prevent them making
off across the North Sea to, say, some port in the north of Russia?
They've got stuff on board that would be saleable anywhere--no doubt
they'll have melted it all into shapeless lumps before many hours are
out."
Once more she was silent, and when she spoke again it was in a note of
decision.
"No, I don't think that's it at all," she said emphatically. "They're
dependent on wind and weather, and the seas aren't so wide, but that
they'd be caught on our information. I'm sure that isn't it."
"What is it, then?" I asked.
"I've a sort of vague, misty idea," she answered, with a laugh that
was plainly intended to be deprecatory of her own power. "Supposing
these Chinese--you say they're awfully keen and astute--supposing
they've got a plot amongst themselves for handing Baxter and the
Frenchman over to the police--the authorities--with their plunder? Do
you see?"
I had just finished the manufacture of my novel foot-wear, and I
jumped to my padded feet with an exclamation that--this time--did not
come from unpleasant contact with the sharp stones.
"By George!" I said. "There is an idea in that!--there may be
something in it!"
"We thought Wing was on board," she continued. "If so, I think I may
be right in offering such a suggestion. Supposing that Wing came
across these people when he went to London; took service with them in
the hope of getting at their secret; supposing he's induced the other
Chinese to secure Baxter and the Frenchman--that, in short, he's been
playing the part of detective? Wouldn't that explain why they sent us
away?"
"Partly--yes, perhaps wholly," I said, struggling with this new idea.
"But--where and when and how do they intend--if your theory's
correct--to do the handing over?"
"That's surely easy enough," she replied quickly. "There's nothing to
do but sail the yawl into say Berwick harbour and call the police
aboard. A very, very easy matter!"
"I wonder if it is so?" I answered, musingly. "It might be--but if we
stay here until it's light and the tide's up, we shall see which way
the yawl goes."
"It's high water between five and six o'clock," she remarked. "Anyway,
it was between four and five yesterday morning at Ravensdene
Court--which now seems to be far away, in some other world."
"Hungry?" I asked.
"Not a bit," she answered. "But--it's a long way since yesterday
afternoon. We've seen things."
"We've certainly seen Mr. Netherfield Baxter," I observed.
"A fascinating man!" she said, with a laugh. "The sort of man--under
other circumstances--one would like to have to dinner."
"Um!" said I. "A ready and plausible tongue, to be sure. I dare say
there are women who would fall in love with such a man."
"Lots!" she answered, with ready assent. "As I said just now, he's a
very fascinating person."
"Ah!" said I, teasingly. "I had a suspicion last night that he was
exciting your sympathetic interest."
"I'm much more sympathetic about your lack of boots and shoes," she
retorted. "But as you seem to have rigged up some sort of satisfactory
substitute, don't you think we might be making our way homewards? Is
there any need to go through the woods? Why should we not follow the
coast?"
"I'm doubtful about our ability to get round the south point of this
cove," I answered. "I was looking at it yesterday afternoon from the
deck of the yawl, and I saw that just there a sort of wall of rock
runs right out into the sea. And if the tide's coming in--"
"Then, the woods," she interrupted. "Surely we can make our way
through them, somehow. And it will begin to get light in another hour
or so."
"If you like to try it," I answered. "But it's darker in there than
you think for, and rougher going, too. However--"
Just then, and before she had made up her mind, we were both switched
off that line of action by something that broke out on another. Across
the three-quarters of a mile of water which separated us from our
recent prison came the sound, clear and unmistakable, of a revolver
shot, followed almost instantly by another. Miss Raven, who had risen
to her feet, suddenly sat down again. A third shot rang out--a
fourth--a fifth; we saw the flashes of each; they came, without doubt,
from the deck of the yawl.
"Firing!" she murmured.
"Fighting!" said I. "That's just--listen to that!"
Half a dozen reports, sharp, insistent, rang out in quick succession;
then two or three, all mingling together; the echoes followed from
wood and cliff. Rapidly as the flashes pierced the gloom, the sounds
died out--a heavy silence followed.
"That's just what?" asked Miss Raven--calmly.
"Well, if not just what I expected, it's at any rate partly what I
expected," I said. "It had already struck me that if--well, supposing
whatever it was that the Chinaman dropped into those glasses didn't
act quite as soporifically as he intended it to, and Baxter and his
companion woke up and found there was a conspiracy, a mutiny, going
on, there'd be--eh?"
"Fighting?" she suggested.
"You're not a squeamish girl," I answered. "There'd be bloody murder!
Their lives--or the others. And I should say that death's stalking
through that unholy craft just now."
She made no answer and we stood staring at the black bulk lying
motionless on the grey water; stood for a long time, listening. I, to
tell the truth, was straining my ears to catch the plash of oars: I
thought it possible that some of those on board the yawl might take a
violent desire to get ashore.
But the silence continued. And now we said no more of setting out on
our homeward journey: curiosity as to what had happened kept us there,
whispering. The time passed--almost before we realized that night was
passing, we were suddenly aware of a long line of faint yellow light
that rose above the far horizon.
"Dawn," I muttered. "Dawn!"
And then, at that moment, we both heard something. Somewhere outside
the bar, but close to the shore, a steam-propelled vessel was tearing
along at a break-neck speed.