Part 13

The two forces came together with a shock. Babbage dropped his cutlass and flung his powerful arms around the skipper. They swayed for a moment, then fell together with a tremendous splash into the water. De Fronsac had dropped his pistol, and made for Jack with a cutlass. Jack parried his furious cut, and before he could recover replied with a rapid and dexterous thrust that found the Frenchman's forearm. With wonderful quickness De Fronsac shifted his weapon from the right to the left hand, and, shouting encouragement to the men beside and behind him, pressed forward indomitably.

At the same moment there was a rush of feet from the bows of the lugger. Her bowsprit came within easy reach of the rocky ledge, and a number of the smugglers had sprung on to it, scrambled along, and flung themselves on the flank of the defenders. Turley and others at Jack's right turned to meet this new danger; but the enemy had gained a firm foothold on the foredeck, and the fight once more became general.

Jack, fighting grimly with Mudge and Folkard at the head of the gangway, felt with a dreadful sinking at the heart that the tide of battle was turning overwhelmingly against him. It seemed only too likely that he must either take to the cutter and escape, or remain to be killed or captured. But at this moment there was a sudden uproar at the far end of the gangway; the cries he heard were unmistakably cries of dismay. The throng of men pressing from the shore to the lugger wavered; their rear was being attacked; the preventives must be upon them! So sudden and unexpected was the onslaught that they lost their heads; their confidence changed to panic, and as one man they made off, springing into the shallow water to right and left, and scurrying away into the darkness.

"Have at 'em, Comely! Have at 'em, my lad!"

The words rang clear above all the din; and ever and anon came a short yelping bark--the unmistakable war-cry of a bulldog. Jack felt a wonderful lightness of heart as the sounds came to him out of the dark. Then the press in front of him melted as by magic, and through the gap so quickly made stumped Gumley, wielding his cutlass like a flail, and shouting with the regularity of a minute-gun:

"Have at 'em, Comely! Have at 'em, my lad!"

Two men remained on the gangway, refusing to be intimidated by the tumult in their rear; nay more, adjuring the fugitives to stand fast. One was Monsieur de Fronsac, the other Kit Lamiger, the chief Luscombe smuggler, father of the lad whom Jack had fought.

The uproar, the flight, the appearance of Gumley and the dog, all happened in such rapid succession and amid such a clamor that to Jack the events seemed to take place in one crowded moment. As the last of the panic-stricken smugglers jumped sidewise from the gangway on to the rocks, De Fronsac, hearing Gumley's voice behind him, took a rapid step forward in a last desperate endeavor to dispose of Jack. But the middy marked his purpose. There was no time for deliberation. The Frenchman, wielding his cutlass as well with his left hand as with his right, made a fierce cut at Jack. The next moment he threw up his arms without a sound and fell backward across the gangway into the space between the lugger and the rocks. Jack's blade had pierced him through.

Meanwhile Kit Lamiger had found himself seized below in the vise-like grip of Comely's jaws. Struggling to free himself, he fell into the arms of Gumley, who, with a cry of "In the king's name, shipmate!" swung him round, threw him on to the shingle, and bade the bulldog watch him.

The fight was over.

"Ahoy, Gumley! Come aboard!" shouted Jack.

Gumley stumped across the gangway, and this was drawn on to the lugger's deck. Jack intended to work the vessels out for a little distance until there was no chance of being attacked except by boats, for he knew that he was still outnumbered. But just as he was preparing to cast off there came a loud hail from the beach, and immediately afterward Mr. Goodman rushed up at the head of a force of preventive men.

"Just in time, Mr. Hardy!" panted he.

"A little late, Mr. Goodman," replied Jack. "I expected you some time ago. The fight is over."

"Dash my buttons!" cried the mortified officer. "'Tis my confounded ill-luck. I should have been here, but I got another note a few hours ago that I had to attend to."

"Anonymous, Mr. Goodman?"

"Yes, anonymous as usual, hang it all! I came up when I heard the firing. I see you've got the lugger, sir. Our scheme worked out to the letter."

"To the anonymous note, eh, Mr. Goodman? Well, we've good news for the admiral to-morrow. And as you've a good number of your men here, I'll go ashore and step up to the Grange. I want to see my cousin. Turley, where's Babbage?"

"Never seed him, sir, since he went overboard with the French skipper."

"Well, I must leave you in charge, then. The poor fellow's drowned, I fear."

"No, sir," shouted a voice from the beach.

"Who's that?"

"Me, sir, Babbage as was."

"All sound?"

"And fury, as brother Sol used to say. Me and the French skipper fell overboard together, me on top. He drownded hisself, sir, 'cos he wouldn't let go. When I come up, some o' they fellers bowled me over like a ninepin, and my senses was fair knocked out o' me. Next thing I knowed I heard you a-saying I were drownded, sir. Not so, nor never even seasick."

"Well, I'm glad you're safe. Come aboard. We'll see what damage is done here, and then I'll go ashore, and we'll get a doctor from Wickham Ferrers to attend to the poor fellows who are wounded."

*CHAPTER XIX*

*SOME APPOINTMENTS*

Jack had but just reached the road above the cliff when he was somewhat startled to hear the regular clickety-click of a large number of horses trotting toward him. And surely, amid the clatter of their hoofs, there was the clash of steel!

He stood at the edge of the road, waiting. In a few moments, round the corner from the direction of Wickham, came two horsemen at a rapid trot, and behind them a troop, whose polished accoutrements gleamed in the light of the rising moon.

They rode on rapidly, and Jack had just recognized the uniform of the Dorsetshire yeomanry when the officer at their head caught sight of him, shouted "Halt!" and reined up his horse on its haunches.

"Where are they, my lad?" he asked in a tone of subdued excitement.

"Who, Cousin Humfrey?"

"Eh! Who are you? Why, bless me, 'tis Jack! Where are the ruffians?"

"Who, cousin?"

"Why, the French! Have they got a footing?"

"Most of 'em a wetting, cousin. But we've beat the whole crew and got the lugger."

"The lugger! Hang the lugger! What about the praams?"

"The praams!" Jack was puzzled; then a light dawned on him and he began to laugh.

"Come, come, 'tis no joke. Are they beaten back?"

"Oh, cousin, no joke! Did you really think it was Boney? Oh, I can't help it; excuse me, cousin."

It came out that Mr. Bastable had been awakened by one of his men, who declared that he heard cannons firing most horribly, and was sure 'twas Boney had come over at last. The squire got up, sent a rider post-haste to Wickham Ferrers for his troop of yeomen, and hurried into his uniform, which he kept always at hand by his bedside.

"And here we are, my lad, in an hour from the first alarm. There's quick work for you. But I'm glad 'tis no worse than a brush with smugglers. 'Twas a false alarm, my lads," he added, turning to his men. "Boney has thought better of it. Didn't care to tackle us Dorset men. You can get back and sleep sound. Now Jack, you'll come with me to the Grange. Arthur told me he'd seen you--the young rascal, stealing out at dead of night! But a good plucked 'un too, eh, Jack?"

"A chip of the old block, cousin. Just the sort of fellow we middies like."

"And that villain De Fronsac, now! What of him?"

"He's dead, cousin," said Jack gravely.

"Ha! He's got his deserts. The villain, playing his double game for eighteen months in my house! And his humbug about the Monster, too. It makes me red in the face when I think of it. But you must tell me all about it when we get home."

They found the Grange almost in a state of siege. The windows were close-shuttered, the doors were double locked, and when Mr. Bastable rapped, the voice of old William, the gardener, was heard, threatening in accents of unmistakable terror that he'd b-blow out the b-b-brains of any Frenchman with his b-b-blunderbuss. When admittance was obtained, shrieks were heard from the top of the house.

"The maids in hysterics!" growled the squire. "Here, Molly and Betty," he shouted, "don't be a couple of geese. 'Tis not Boney--'tis Master Jack!"

A door above flew open; Kate and Arthur came bounding down the stairs, with Mrs. Bastable a pace or two behind them.

"Lawk a mussy! Only to think o't, now!" giggled Molly above. "Measter Jack! Well, I never did!"

Kate impulsively threw her arms round Jack's neck and kissed him heartily. A middy is not easily taken by surprise, but Jack was only just in time to return the kiss before Mrs. Bastable came and encircled him.

"My dear boy, this is delightful."

"So it is, cousin--if it wasn't so smothery!"

"Mothery!" shouted the squire in high good humor. "Now, you'll come along to my den and tell me all about everything that's happened since you were kidnapped by those villains, confound them!"

"But my dear Humfrey, Jack looks dead-beat."

"We'll cure that by any by. The fire isn't out; we'll make it up; and I'm sure you women won't sleep a wink till you've heard the story."

"Hurray!" shouted Arthur, capering.

So they trooped into the snuggery, and there Jack, fortified with a glass of hot cordial brought by Molly, related his adventures from the time when he was carried to France against his will.

"There are two things I can't make out," he said in conclusion. "One is, how Gudgeon is mixed up in this. 'Twas his boat, I'm sure, that carried me in the tub to the lugger; and he drove to Gumley's the other night to hear what had been done. Where does he come in, cousin?"

Mr. Bastable laughed a little awkwardly.

"Go to bed, Arthur," he said.

"I know, father," said the boy, grinning.

"You do, do you, you young rascal! Well, Jack, I'll tell you. Gudgeon is a sly old dog. He's the smuggler hereabouts--but behind the scenes. His smoking chimney was the signal by day, as Fronsac's, it seems, was by night. But he's not a traitor; he knew nothing of Fronsac's double scheme, I warrant. He's a smuggler simply. Why, Jack, he has supplied me with smuggled brandy for years; so he does the parson at Wickham. The stuff you're drinking was smuggled; the lace your cousin Sylvia is wearing came from Valenciennes, and paid no duty. I'm afraid I must give it up now, my boy. There's not a squire on the seaboard but thinks it no harm; but with a cousin a gallant king's officer--yes, I must give it up." He sighed. "And I think I'd better go and see Gudgeon in the morning."

"He'll be transported, as sure as a gun," said Jack.

"Well, I don't think we'll go that length. You can't prove anything against him, you see. He's too sly for that--and--well, it might be awkward for more than one of us."

"All right, cousin," said Jack, laughing. "But there's another thing. That fellow who was wounded in the Hollow! De Fronsac shot him, I'm sure; I never told you that Arthur and I saw him bundled into a lugger that night we followed De Fronsac from the house."

"That's a mystery. I can't explain it. And it doesn't matter much, now that De Fronsac is gone. By George, Jack! I fancy you've killed smuggling at Luscombe--for some time, at any rate. Now to bed. We'll have another talk in the morning."

Jack was up early, in spite of the lateness of the hour when he went to bed. He was at breakfast alone with Mr. Bastable when Mr. Goodman was announced.

"Good morning, sir. Good morning, Mr. Hardy. I've come to you as a justice of the peace, Mr. Bastable. You've heard of our little exploit last night?"

"You were in at the death, I believe. Well, sir?"

"Well, sir, we went to the Hollow this morning to seize the goods we understood were hidden there. In the summer-house we found a man, sir; I have him outside now. He tried to run away; but we collared him, and as he wouldn't give an account of himself I've brought him along. Perhaps you'll commit him as a rogue and vagabond."

"Bring him in, Mr. Goodman."

The riding-officer returned with a heavy, undersized, beetle-browed fellow, in very tattered garb.

"Why, 'tis the very man!" cried Jack. "This is the man De Fronsac shot."

"De Fronsac!" growled the man, with gleaming eyes. "Where is he?"

"No longer in this world, my man," said Mr. Bastable. "Now, who are you? Give a good account of yourself, or I shall have to commit you."

The man showed no hesitation now. He explained that he had been employed in London by a French family through whom De Fronsac obtained much of the information he signaled to France. Having discovered this fact, he had come down to Luscombe to levy blackmail on the spy; the consequences were as Jack had related. He had returned to England--there were means of coming and going between the two countries even in that time of war--to wreak vengeance on De Fronsac, and was lying in wait at the summer-house when the preventives appeared on the scene.

"There's your mystery unraveled," said Mr. Bastable, turning to Jack. Then to the Frenchman he said: "We'll send you off to London, my man; 'tis for folk there to deal with you."

After breakfast, Jack walked over to Gumley's cottage. He wanted to know how De Fronsac had escaped, and was prepared to read Gumley a lecture for his lax guardianship. But he found the old sailor so desperately upset at the trick played upon him, that he had not the heart to add to his chagrin.

"Only to think of it, sir!" said Gumley, thumping the table. "Poetry! All my eye and Betty Martin! Why, when he got that there candle, he stood upon this here table"--another thump--"and burned away the ends o' the matchboards up aloft where they was nailed to the beams. No wonder I smelled smoke! And he showed me a hole in the tablecloth! Then he pried up the boards, got up into the attic, out by the trap-door on to the roof, and when Comely and me was a-nosing round here in the smoke, chok' it all! Mounseer was down the rain-pipe and under full sail for the road. Never have I bin so done afore, sir, and in the king's name, too."

"Never mind, Joe. You came after him like a Briton, and if you and Comely hadn't arrived on the scene when you did, I'm afraid there would have been a different story to tell the admiral to-day. I'm going to Portsmouth this afternoon. And I'll take care the admiral knows about your pluck and your stanchness as a king's man under persecution."

"Thank 'ee kindly, sir. And you won't forget to say a word for Comely, sir?"

"Not I. Comely and Gumley--a fine pair of warriors. Good-by."

When Jack got back to the Grange, he found that the squire had paid his promised visit to Mr. Gudgeon. Mr. Bastable laughed as he related the interview.

"He had the flutters very badly, Jack. I put it to him as delicately as I could. Said that recent events had given the neighborhood a bad name, especially as it had been found that some one had been selling information to the French. Suspicion might easily fall on the wrong person, I said; and I wound up by suggesting that when next winter comes he should see that his chimneys are swept regularly. The old rascal! 'Oh dear me!' says he, 'to think that a quiet law-abiding village like Luscombe should have harbored a French spy! It puts me in a terrible flutter, Cognac is the best cure I know, sir; maybe you'll do me the honor to take a sip with me?' and the rascal gave me a glass, Jack; contraband--capital stuff!"

"He'll be careful in future, I reckon, cousin. I must run over to Portsmouth after lunch and report to Admiral Horniman. I suppose I'd better keep Gudgeon's name out?"

"Certainly, my lad. You've snuffed out smuggling here--for the present; it is bound to begin again some day; but you may depend upon it that for a long time to come we're all king's men here, Gudgeon included."

It was a fortnight before Jack returned to the Grange. Then he came in a high state of excitement.

"Admiral Horniman is a jolly old brick!" he cried, after greeting his cousins. "What do you think he's done?"

"Resigned in your favor, Jack?"

"Pretty nearly!" returned Jack with a laugh. "No, he's written up a thumping report to the lords of the Admiralty, and got 'em to 'do a thing that's as rare as--as--"

"As Jack Hardys. Well!"

"Why, to let me off three years' service as a mid, and also the examination for lieutenant. Look here! here's my commission!" He flourished a paper, and cried for three cheers for Admiral Horniman. "And that's not all. I've got no end of prize-money for capturing the French brig, and retaking the _Fury_, and collaring the smugglers' stuff. My share alone comes to over a thousand pounds. And they've taken two French privateers and sunk another off Fowey. The signals worked splendidly; they were trying to cut out a disabled ship that wasn't there! The admiral's going to put in a claim to prize-money for me. He is a brick!"

"Oh, I say!" cried Arthur. "Don't I wish I was you!"

"I'm glad for dad's sake. He hasn't been over well off since he had to retire from the East India Company's service, owing to that wretched illness of his, and I'm afraid he had to pinch a bit for me. But now that's all changed. I shan't cost him another penny piece."

"Bravo! Arthur, you young dog, remember that, and hand over a thousand pounds to me when I'm bound for the poorhouse. Well, Jack, I congratulate you, my boy."

"But that's not all, cousin. I've kept the best for the last. Open your eyes! I'm appointed to the _Victory_, and sail to join Nelson in a week! Won't we pepper the French! Won't we win a glorious victory! Oh! cousin, isn't it the finest thing in the world to serve your king and country!"

"If you please, sir," said the butler, putting his head in at the door, "Joe Gumley is outside, asking for Mr. Hardy."

"Show him in," cried Mr. Bastable.

"Arternoon, sir," said Gumley, stumping in with the bulldog at his heels. He held his glazed hat clumsily, and looked not quite at ease. "I be come over for two things, Squire; number one, to say thank'ee to Mr. Hardy; number two, to axe a question."

"Never mind about number one, Gumley," said Jack. "Heave away at number two."

"Begging your pardon, sir, one always comes afore two, and ye can't alter nature. I take it kindly, sir, and I thank 'ee from the bottom of my heart, for your goodness to a' old mariner what has only one leg sound and rheumatiz in both. Here I've got, sir, a paper, and as near as I can make it out--'tis terrible writing for a admiral, to be sure--Admiral Horniman says he has great pleasure in app'inting Joseph Gumley watchman at the dockyard, ten shillings a week, cottage and rum free. I know who done that: Admiral Horniman would never ha' heard o' Joe Gumley but for Mr. Hardy. God bless 'ee, sir, for remembering of a poor wooden-legged old sailor what had to take to growing artichokes and other landlubbers' thingummies in the king's name."

"The admiral couldn't have found a better man," said Mr. Bastable, to cover Jack's confusion. "But what's number two?"

"Number two is this, sir. Do this here app'intment take in Comely? 'Cos if it don't with all respecks to Mr. Hardy and the admiral, I sticks to artichokes. Comely and Gumley--they sign on together."

"And nobody wants to split you, Gumley," said Jack. "Go and see the admiral, and take Comely with you--only hold him in, because the admiral's rather peppery, and Comely might made a mistake. He will know that with Comely and Gumley to watch it, the dockyard will be as safe as the rock of Gibraltar."

"Ay, ay, sir. Then we takes on that there app'intment. Comely and me--in the king's name."

THE END