Part 12

"Mr. Babbage?" Turley's tone was one of surprise and remonstrance.

"Wot?"

"Not Turnips."

"Why not?"

"Why, sir, 'cos they have Tops."

"Not when they're mashed, Turley, wi' butter, or dripping for cheapness."

*CHAPTER XVII*

*DIAMOND CUT DIAMOND*

Unconscious of the bo'sun's melancholy reflections, Jack was hurrying toward the village. There he again hired the gig, and drove once more over the same road, leaving Middleton so as to reach the neighborhood of Luscombe about dusk. With him he took the iron steps.

He made his way with great caution to Gumley's cottage. This time he did not hail the old sailor from the roadway, but got over the fence and tapped at the window. When he was admitted, he announced without preliminary the object of his visit.

"I want you to come and lend a hand, Gumley."

"Might I axe how and wherefore, sir?"

"I'll tell you that as we go along."

"'Tis not to go back on old messmates, sir?"

"Your old messmates have gone back on you. But 'tis not that, and, anyway, I call upon you, Joe Gumley, in the king's name--"

"Oh, if you put it like that, sir, I don't axe no questions. The king's name is enough for me."

"I know it. Come along, and bring Comely with you."

The three set out, Gumley curiously eying Jack's bundle.

"We're bound for Congleton's Hollow, Gumley."

"Ay, ay, sir."

"Any news since I saw you last?"

"Nary much, sir. Young Bill Gudgeon haven't bin seen since. And the preventives have bin paying surprise visits down in the village."

"That's well. The smugglers won't have dared to remove their cargo."

"Ah! I knowed as how they'd made another run."

"How did you know that? You keep yourself to yourself, you know."

"True, sir. But old Gudgeon's chimbleys do be uncommon foul, to be sure."

"What's that to do with it?"

"Why, sir, I were thinking that's the only thing I've seed to-day. But he'll soon be leaving off fires. Be you gwine to the Hollow by the lane, sir?"

"Yes. 'Tis a little longer way round, but I don't want to meet anybody."

"True, sir. Comely will give us good notice if any one is about."

They came at length to the Hollow. Jack led the way through the trees to within a hundred yards of the tower, and searched the neighborhood thoroughly to make sure that no one was on the watch.

"Now, Gumley, I'm going up to the room at the top. Not through the door, but up the outside with the help of these steps." He opened his bundle. "See, they fit into holes in the wall. Are you sailor enough still to come up after me and bring down the steps when I've got to the top?"

"Try me, sir. True, I've only one leg, but that's sound; and my arms--look at 'em, sir."

"That's all right. When you've got the steps, hide in the bushes with Comely until you hear me whistle. Then you'll come and take charge of a man I think you'll find here."

"Ay, ay, sir."

Jack mounted, Gumley after him. The latter removed the steps and disappeared into the thicket, while Jack closed the trap-door, and sat on the rickety chair, waiting.

Hours passed. It was very cold. Jack knew that De Fronsac would not leave the Grange until the family were asleep; he could only wait, wrapped up in his cloak, walking about quietly at intervals to keep himself awake.

At last he heard a slight click outside. Instantly he concealed himself in the hole behind the bedstead, leading to the staircase. To insure the full success of his plan it was necessary that the signaler should make his preparations undisturbed.

He heard some one enter the room by the trap-door, and immediately afterward saw a gleam of light. Peeping out, he recognized with a thrill that the intruder was De Fronsac, as he had expected, and that he was alone. He had lit the lamp, the glass of which was turned away from the window; the long roll of cardboard and a pistol lay beside it. Then he went to the window and looked out to sea. He was evidently waiting for a signal from the lugger.

"_Peste!_" he muttered, slapping his shoulders. "_Comme il fait froid! Il est en retard. Quand viendra-t-il?_"

Pistol in hand, Jack stepped quietly out of his hiding-place. De Fronsac started, swung round, and stared with amazement, for there, in the light of the lamp, stood the boy he had kidnapped, and a pistol was pointed full at his head.

"Yes, Monsieur de Fronsac, it is I. Stay where you are; if you make a movement I shall fire."

The statement was so cool and matter-of-fact that it appeared to carry conviction, for De Fronsac arrested his first instinctive movement toward his own pistol. Still covering him with his weapon, Jack advanced to the table, turned the lamp so that the light fell on the Frenchman, and lifted the pistol. De Fronsac said not a word. There was no smile upon his face now, but his eyes gleamed, and Jack knew that he was watching for the slightest opening. De Fronsac felt the rope for a spy tightening relentlessly round his neck.

He glanced toward the lamp, within a few feet of him.

"No, Monsieur De Fronsac," said Jack, guessing his wish to knock it over: "it really is not possible. You would not live to reach the table. You will now go through the trap-door and descend the steps, as quickly and quietly as you can."

The man hesitated; Jack saw his fingers work nervously.

"I shall count three, Monsieur. At the word _three_ I fire. One--"

De Fronsac moved sidewise toward the trap-door. At the opening he again paused, and appeared to be about to speak. But Jack gave him no opportunity.

"Again, Monsieur: one--two--"

De Fronsac pulled up the trap, and slowly lowered himself on to the topmost step.

"Remember, Monsieur," said Jack, before his head disappeared, "if you make the least unnecessary sound I shall send a bullet after you."

The gleaming eyes disappeared. Step by step the Frenchman descended. When he was a third of the way down Jack whistled gently. By the time De Fronsac reached the ground Gumley and Comely were one on each side of him.

"Evening, sir," said Gumley. "Orders are that you come along wi' me--and the dog. Watch him, Comely."

A deep growl caused De Fronsac to start.

"Harmless as a lamb, sir, while you goes steady. Bean't 'ee, Comely?"

The answer was another growl. They moved away, the dog keeping a few inches behind De Fronsac's heels, Gumley with a naked cutlass walking at his right hand.

Even before they were out of sight Jack had returned to the table. There he had noticed a sheet of paper. It was covered with figures--no doubt the message that De Fronsac was preparing to send.

"Wonder if there's time to make it out!" thought Jack. He looked out to sea; there was no signal light. With the aid of his key he scribbled below the figures the corresponding letters, and read:

NELSON A SUIVRE VILLENEUVE 9 NAVIRE 2 FREGATE SORTENT DE P MERCREDI BINSEY COVE LUNDI.

"A clever villain!" thought Jack. "Who would ever have imagined that a French spy would be mixed up with English smugglers! And I wonder how he gets his information about Nelson's doings, and the sailings of English convoys? Well, his friends will have rather a different message to-night."

He took from his pocket a piece of paper, and made some alterations in the figures he had written in the cabin of the _Fury_.

"If they like news of Nelson, they shall have some, invented on the spot!"

Every now and then while writing he glanced out to sea to make sure that he did not miss the expected signal. It was nearly an hour after he had completed his message that he caught the three successive flashes. Then he fixed the cardboard, pointed it through the round hole in the curtain, and signaled:

NELSON MOURANT A PALERMO NAVIRE BRISE PLAGE FOWEY CONVOI PETITE CHALOUPE BINSEY COVE LUNDI.

The message completed, he extinguished the light and descended, removing the steps as he went. The other set had apparently been taken by Gumley. Wrapping up the original dozen he started for his long walk back.

He had not gone many paces when he heard hurried footsteps behind. Turning round with a start, his hand on his pistol, he was amazed to hear his name called.

"Jack!"

The next instant a slight figure sprang toward him.

"Oh, Jack! I'm jolly glad, I am! I thought it was you, but couldn't be sure till you came down. Oh, I _am_ glad!"

"Well, don't make a to-do, youngster. And what brings you out at this time of night?"

"Why, didn't you tell me months ago to keep an eye on Fronsac? Well, I've done it. I've followed him several nights--not often, 'cos mostly I'm sleepy; but I've never caught him. He always disappeared, and I never knew where he went till to-night. And I shouldn't have known now if I hadn't seen him climb down the Folly and go off with old Gumley. Oh, it was fine! My eye! wasn't he scared at the dog! But what's it all mean, Jack? I say, you'll come along home, won't you? They'll all be so jolly glad to see you."

"Not to-night, Arthur. I hope I shall come to see you all in a day or two. But not a soul in the village must know yet that I'm back, and the maids couldn't keep it in. Tell your father I'm here; and tell him that De Fronsac is a dangerous spy. We've got him safe now, but they mustn't suspect in the village. If any questions are asked you can say that he has gone away for a few days, and will be back on Monday night."

"Oh, I say, will they hang him?"

"Of course. Now cut and run; you'll catch your death of cold, and the squire will want to hang me."

"Not he. He likes you. So does--"

"Cut!" said Jack, putting an end to Arthur's confidences. The boy disappeared; Jack resumed his walk, and arrived dead tired at the inn at Middleton.

*CHAPTER XVIII*

*THE BATTLE OF BINSEY COVE*

"Ah! Patience is a monument, as brother Sol used to say. Tombstone I'd call it, 'cos this here waiting about in the cold'll be the death o' me."

"True, Mr. Babbage. It bean't Christian, let alone decent, to keep us poor fellers waiting here."

"Avast your jabber, Mudge. It bean't for the likes of you to grumble when 'tis a matter o' dooty, and love your neighbor as yourself. 'Tis a wonderful fine night, coldish, nat'ral for the time o' year. Mr. Hardy didn't make the weather, lads."

Ben Babbage, with a boat's crew from the _Fury_, lay off Totley Point, about a mile and a half west of Luscombe. It was about ten at night. They had been for two hours resting on their oars. A steady breeze blew from the west-sou'west, and a slight swell rocked the boat gently. Save for an occasional pull to keep her head to the wind the men had nothing to do except wait and watch; and Babbage, however he might grumble himself, was the last to permit grumbling in others.

But it was certainly a tax on their patience to wait hour after hour for a lugger which was slow to appear. Everybody was tired of inaction, and hoping for a signal of recall, when a shape loomed out of the blackness, passed on the starboard side of the boat, about two cable lengths away, and disappeared shoreward.

Babbage lifted a dark lantern from the bottom of the boat; Turley and Mudge stretched a sheet of tarpaulin between him and the shore. Then Babbage, facing out to sea, and keeping the lantern at such an elevation that its light should not fall on the water, rapidly opened and closed the shutter, sending one flash to windward.

"Things is a-going to happen, mates," he said, as he replaced the lantern. "The owdacious moment is at hand, as brother Sol used to say."

Again they waited, but now with keen expectation. In ten minutes, which seemed hours, a dark shape appeared in the offing. Babbage making a bell of his hands, sent a low whistle across the water; an order was given on the approaching vessel; the steersman put up the helm, and in a few seconds the other was alongside.

"All well, Babbage?" said Jack, in a low tone.

"Ay, ay, sir."

A rope was thrown from the cutter and made fast in the bows of the boat. Another brief command; the steersman put the helm down, and the cutter, with the boat in tow, followed in the wake of the lugger. At nightfall she had crept in to within two miles of the shore, and sending out the long-boat as a scout, had hove to, lest her mast should betray her.

In ten minutes the cliffs were dimly visible, and Jack recognized the jagged gap at the top that served as a landmark in steering for the cove. The cutter headed straight for the gap. There was a shout from far up the cliff; the _Fury_ had been sighted by the lookout. His call was answered by cries from the beach. On the cutter all the men lay ready with musketoon, pistol, and cutlass, except the few who had been told off to run down the sail when the word was given, and make the cutter fast to the lugger when she came alongside.

Jack's heart beat more quickly than usual; he felt excited, and anxious, too, for he knew that the whole crew of the lugger, probably quite as strong as his own, would be ready to repel boarders. If they were joined by the Luscombe men who were receiving the smuggled goods he would be greatly outnumbered. Everything depended on the handling of the men, and knowing how desperately smugglers fought when brought to bay, Jack felt the seriousness of the position. What would the issue be?

While the boat's crew had been waiting in the cold, strange things had been happening at Gumley's cottage.

Gumley's method of guarding De Fronsac was to make a temporary kennel for the dog outside the window of the front room in which the prisoner was lodged, and a shakedown for himself by the door. He felt that he could not properly intrude upon De Fronsac, who was a person of quality. But he looked in at intervals to see that he was safe, on these occasions calling Comely into the room, to guard against any attempted surprise.

De Fronsac had recovered the use of his tongue after he reached the cottage.

"I protest, I say it is a scandal, an infamy, to shut me up as if I vere a t'ief. Vat right have you? Tell me dat--you--you--"

"Gumley, my name, sir. I've got my orders--in the king's name."

"Vell, I vill complain to de squire; I vill make to punish you--you--Gomley!"

"Orders is orders, sir. I can't say no more."

Gumley himself was somewhat anxious about his charge, for, not expecting such a drain on his larder, he had only his usual provisions for the week, and did not feel at liberty to leave the cottage and procure more. Thursday passed, Friday, Saturday, and still he had heard nothing from Jack. When Sunday came, there was only a half loaf of bread and a rind of cheese left, and these had to be shared among the two men and the dog.

On the second day De Fronsac began to beguile the tedium of confinement by writing poetry. When Gumley looked in at him on one of his periodical visits the Frenchman said:

"You have not a bad heart. You obey orders of--of--of a monstair. Vell, I read you vat I have now written about anoder Monstair--de great villain Monstair vat call himself Emperor of de French! Listen! You vill like it.

"'_De sky vas blue, de sea vas green,_ _All beautiful for to be seen._ _Vy den am I not gay and glad?_ _Alas! de Monstair make me sad._'

"Dat is good beginning, hein?"

"Reyther on the miserable side, don't 'ee think, sir? For myself, I like a rum-tum-tiddlum rollicum-rorum sort o' thing."

"Ver' vell, I write you someting of dat kind."

Gumley heard nothing more of this generous offer until Monday evening. Then, when he went into De Fronsac's room to explain with apologies that he had no more food, the Frenchman said:

"No matter not at all. Vizout doubt some vun vill come to-morrow. Be so good as give me a candle. I vish to write de poesy I speak of."

Gumley saw no reason for not humoring so harmless a hobby, and brought the lighted candle. But a couple of hours later he was awakened from his sleep at the locked door by a smell of burning. He soon satisfied himself that it came from the prisoner's room, and opened the door.

"Ha! I see you!" said De Fronsac. "I am almost burnt alive. I am writing my poesy ven--_voila!_ de candle overfalls and burns a hole in de table-carpet. See it! I put out de fire, easy; but it make much smoke. I fear it vake you; pardon, my good Gomley."

"Granted, sir, ready. If I was you I'd go to sleep now and do your writing stuff in the morning."

"So I vill," was the response. "Pardon! I vill not vake you again."

Gumley returned to his shakedown and was soon fast asleep.

Nearly two hours later he was wakened by a growl from the dog outside. He got up, opened the outer door, and found Comely trying to get up to the shuttered window of De Fronsac's room.

"Don't like his poetry any more than me, don't 'ee? Come in. We'll tell him 'tis time he was abed."

He closed the door when the dog had entered, and together they went into the prisoner's room. There was still a good deal of smoke in it--but no Frenchman.

"Ahoy!" cried Gumley.

But the dog made a dash back to the front door, and, when Gumley followed and opened it, rushed growling down the garden, where he was brought up by the high fence. Seizing his cutlass, Gumley stumped as fast as he could to the gate.

"Chok' it all!" he muttered. "This is what comes o' losing a leg in the king's name."

It took some little time to draw the bolts and unlock the gate, and when the old sailor got out into the road the fugitive was out of sight. But Gumley thought he heard a man running down the cliff path to the village. Without hesitation he started in pursuit, whistling Comely to his side. Never had that wooden leg moved so fast; but with all his exertion his pace did not exceed that of a quick walk. He was half-way down the path when he heard shots in the distance. Hurrying still more, he came to the village just in time to see a group of men rushing out at the other end, and caught the words "Sandy Cove!"

"Fire and brimstone!" he muttered. "This is a desperate go, Comely. Come on, my lad."

And he stumped on gamely through the deserted street.

Meanwhile there had been brisk doings at Sandy Cove. When Jack judged that he was only a couple of cable-lengths from the lugger, he cast off the long-boat with Babbage and his men. They, resting on their oars, allowed it to drift slowly in while the cutter disappeared into the darkness.

A few moments later Jack gave the word. The sail was run down. A round shot from the lugger whistled across the _Fury's_ bows. Another few seconds; then, amid furious shouts, the cutter came against the larboard quarter of the lugger with a bump that caused the men on both craft to stagger. The _Fury's_ bowsprit fouled the lugger's shrouds and hooked fast. Instantly half a dozen grapnels were out, and the two vessels were closely interlocked.

There was a deafening discharge of small arms from the deck of the lugger, but as most of the _Fury's_ men were lying down awaiting the order to board, and the volley was fired at random in almost total darkness, hardly any damage was done. But the master of the lugger was clearly a man of action, for the echo of the shots had scarcely come back from the cliffs when he gave a loud order in French, and the smugglers swarmed over the bulwarks, intending to jump on to the deck of the cutter a foot or two below.

"Fire!"

The word rang out sharp and clear above the shouts of the Frenchmen. Their dark forms stood out clearly against the starlight; they were only a few feet from the muzzles of the Englishmen's muskets; and when at Jack's command the volley flashed, the front line of the smugglers disappeared as if struck by a thunderbolt.

With a loud cheer the English sailors, dropping their muskets, seized cutlass and pistol and dashed through the smoke, each man eager to be first on the enemy's deck. They needed no encouragement; most of them had a score to pay off for their defeat at the same spot in the previous autumn. While the Frenchmen were still half stunned by the scorching fire and the loss of so many of their comrades, Jack's men gained a footing on the deck.

But now the French skipper's voice could be heard rallying his crew, and the boarders were met by a serried mass armed with pistols and boarding pikes. And among the Frenchmen there was now a sprinkling of Englishmen, for the smugglers on shore had rushed over the gangway to their comrades thus hotly beset. Now a furious hand-to-hand fight raged about the lugger's stern. Great was the clamor as steel clashed on steel, pistols barked, hoarse voices roared encouragement or defiance, wounded men groaned. Again and again Jack and his men were flung back by sheer weight of numbers against the lugger's bulwarks; again and again they rallied and forced the enemy across the deck. No room here for fine weapon-play; men cut and thrust at random, met, grappled, flung away cutlass and pike to set to with nature's own weapons. Many a Frenchman fell under the sledge-hammer blows of British sailors' fists.

Jack had no clear recollection afterward of the details of the fight. At one moment he found himself leading a rush of his own men, pressing the enemy back foot by foot until only a last desperate effort seemed wanting to drive them overboard. Then would come a check; a hoarse shout from the skipper, whom Jack by and by distinguished in the melee--a huge fellow of reckless courage; the tide turned, the smugglers rallied gamely, and Jack and his men, stubbornly as they fought, were borne back and back, losing inch by inch the ground they had so hardly gained.

It was at one of these desperate moments that Jack heard at last the sound for which, throughout the struggle, he had been anxiously waiting. From the forefront of the lugger came a sudden rousing British cheer. There was a rush of feet in the rear of the smugglers, and in a second, as it seemed to Jack, the deck in front of him was clear. Ben Babbage had arrived. Carrying out orders given him previously, he had brought the long-boat unseen to the starboard side of the lugger, and, before the Frenchmen were aware of his presence, he was on deck, with Turley, Mudge, Folkard, and half a dozen other trusty shipmates.

Beset now in both front and rear, the Frenchmen lost heart. Suddenly they made a rush for the gangway connecting the lugger with the land, and swarmed helter-skelter across, not a few stumbling over the edge and falling souse into the water.

"Huzzay! huzzay!" shouted the panting Englishmen, as they saw the enemy in flight.

But they were answered by a loud and confident cheer from the beach, and in the momentary silence that ensued they heard the rapid tramp of a large body of men hurrying over the shingle. Immediately afterward they saw the fugitives halt, and rush back, largely reinforced, to the gangway, led by the indomitable captain. On they came, tumbling into the water three or four of the Englishmen who had started in pursuit and were making for the shore.

The gangway, consisting of four stout planks laid side by side, was wide, and gave foothold for a throng at once. Jack and Babbage collected their men at the lugger's bulwarks to meet this new attack. And the former, amazed at this sudden turning of the tables, was still more amazed to see beside the French skipper the slighter form of Monsieur de Fronsac. Even at the moment of recognition De Fronsac's pistol flashed; the bullet glanced off Jack's cutlass within an inch of his body, and embedded itself in the mast behind him.