CHAPTER. XX

  A GOOD NIGHT'S WORK

  "GIVE me a hand down here, Atherton," exclaimed Mr Buckley. "We can'twait for a rope this time."

  Without mishap the Scouts and the Scoutmaster descended the jaggedcliff by the same path that the luckless Bill had so lately ascended.

  Hauled up on a shelving ledge and practically awash by the risingtide, was the canvas boat. It seemed a flimsy craft to hold fivepersons, but reassured by Mr Buckley's word the Scouts embarked.

  There were but two oars, and these were short; the boat was deeplyladen, and progress was, in consequence, slow. Before they werethirty yards from the cliff the Scouts heard the clanking of awindlass. The sole occupant of the yacht, alarmed at the commotionashore, was weighing anchor.

  "He means to start the motor and leave his comrades to their fate,"exclaimed Mr Buckley. "Put your backs into it, lads."

  Desperately the fellow worked the windlass, but unfortunately for himthere was good scope of chain out. Ere half of it was inboard, thecanvas boat swept under the yacht's counter and ranged up alongsidehis starboard quarter.

  "Surrender!" shouted the Scoutmaster.

  The man's only reply was to drop the handle of the winch, snatch upthe gun from the deck and present it full at Mr Buckley's head.

  "Won't do, my man," exclaimed the Scoutmaster affably. "We know thereisn't a single cartridge on board."

  The rascal's jaw dropped with sheer amazement.

  "I'll bash in the skull of the first chap who tries to get on deck,"he replied, swinging the butt end of the weapon above his head.

  "Hands up instantly, or I'll fire!" ordered Mr Buckley, sternly. Thepale light glinted on the bright barrel of a sinister-looking objecthe held extended in his right hand. Somewhat to the Scoutmaster'ssurprise the fellow immediately complied, holding his arms extendedto their fullest extent above his head to show that there was nodeception, while the gun clattered noisily upon the deck.

  In a trice Atherton and Phillips were once more upon the yacht.Without further resistance the fellow allowed them to secure him.

  "Take him below," ordered Mr Buckley. "Phillips and Mayne will lookafter him all right. Come on, you others, if you want to be in at thecapture of Mr Tassh."

  Before pushing off, Mr Buckley called to Phillips to come out of thecabin.

  "Here's my revolver," he said, in a voice loud enough for theprisoner to overhear. "Put it in your pocket, and don't hesitate touse it if the fellow gives trouble."

  And to the surprise and amazement of the Scouts, the Scoutmaster heldup for inspection--not a dangerous weapon, but one of the brassrowlocks of the canvas boat.

  Phillips rejoined his companion in the task of guarding the prisoner.They heard the sound of the oars growing fainter and fainter till allwas quiet.

  "Look 'ere, you chaps," said the prisoner, breaking the silence, "Iain't to blame for this 'ere business. 'Swelp me, it was orl Bill'sdoin'!"

  "The less you say about it the better," remarked Phillips.

  "No 'tain't. I mean to turn King's evidence, so the sooner I get's itoff me chest the better, says I. Bill is that silly lubber Tassh'sbrother-in-law, that's wot yer don't know, eh? Well, Bill 'ad 'isknife inter old Gwinnear over the shippin' strike. I knows as 'owBill 'ad a 'and in chuckin' the old josser inter the Thames: that'sgospel truth. An' then 'e cods old Tassh inter sneakin' the silver.Told 'im 'e 'd 'ave 'arf the proceeds, and Bill and me 'ud share therest, and Tassh like a blinkin' fool believed 'im. 'Tis likethis----"

  "Yacht ahoy!" came a peremptory hail from without.

  Phillips dashed up the companion-ladder, and gained the deck to finda coastguard gig alongside.

  "Hulloa, my lad!" exclaimed the petty officer in charge. "What's thegame? Having a joke with us, eh? Some of you Scouts signalled to usthat some of the thieves were on board with the stolen silver."

  "One of them is," replied Phillips. "You're a little too late. He isa prisoner; the other one is also captured. He's on shore, and if youhurry up you may have a look in when our fellows collar Mr Tassh."

  * * * *

  Upon rejoining the "Wolves" the elated "Otters" found their comradeskeeping watch in front of the "needle's-eye." Until theirScoutmaster's return Simpson would not allow his patrol to enter theinner cave. Nevertheless there was now no need for absolute silence,and the lads were able to converse and wile away the otherwisetedious vigil; nor was there any necessity to do without artificiallight.

  "Now, Simpson," said Mr Buckley, "it's the 'Wolves'' turn. You'veplenty of candles?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Carry on, then," said the Scoutmaster, dropping into a phrasereminiscent of his former service in the Royal Navy.

  The Leader of the "Wolves" was not a fellow to rush headlong intodanger. He knew that if Tassh had the courage and determination hecould hold the entrance to the inner cave with impunity.

  Placing his hat on the end of a staff he thrust it through the narrowopening. Nothing happened.

  "The fellow's missed his opportunity," said Simpson to Neale in a lowtone. "So here goes."

  Wriggling through the "needle's-eye," Simpson gained the spaciousvault. He waited, his staff held in readiness to defend himself fromattack, until Neale and Jock Fraser joined him.

  Bill's electric torch now served a useful purpose, augmented by thelight of several candles. The rest of the "Wolves" were quickly on thescene, and in quite a blaze of light the Scouts followed the trailwhich in his flight the rascally butler had made no attempt to conceal.

  "'Hands up instantly or I'll fire!' ordered Mr. Buckleysternly."--_Page_ 237.

  The tracks led straight to the place where Atherton had previouslyfound the burnt matches. But in place of the smooth sand there gapeda deep hole, from which the rays of a lantern were visible.

  "Come out, Tassh: the game's up," said Simpson. The only reply was ahollow mocking laugh, so eerie that the lads scarce believed it camefrom a human being. Then came the sound of metal being violentlythrown about, to the accompaniment of disjointed and incoherentsentences that told their own tale.

  "The fellow's quite mad; he's amusing himself with smashing thesilver," exclaimed Fraser. "We must stop him."

  Dropping lightly through the hole, the Scout found himself in a smallcave, about twenty feet in length and half that distance in breadth.Two candle lanterns--one hanging from a hook driven into the roof andthe other standing on the floor--gave sufficient light for Fraser tosee clearly what was going on.

  Tassh, seated on the ground with his chin resting on his knee, wasamusing himself by throwing the valuable silver cups against thefarthermost wall, gibbering the while in maniacal delight.

  With a bound the Scout stood over the luckless rascal and laid adetaining hand on his shoulder. The man merely smiled and held up achased goblet as if he wished his captor to join in the game.

  "He's as mad as a hatter," said Fraser to Simpson and Neale, who hadpromptly followed into the thief's lair. "We'll have a job to get himout of this."

  "Come on, Tassh," said Simpson, quietly and firmly. "We've somethingto show you. Come along."

  The ex-butler turned his head and looked at the Scout in a dazedmanner; then, with a suddenness that almost took Simpson by surprise,the madman jumped to his feet and flung himself tooth and nail uponhis captors.

  In the struggle the lantern on the floor was overset. The candle inthe one hanging from the roof was almost burnt out. In semi-darkness,deep in the farthermost recesses of the cave, the three ladsstruggled with their prisoner, who seemed to possess the strength ofa gorilla.

  Twice Simpson was hurled against the wall; Fraser, partly dazed by atremendous blow on the forehead, was hardly of use to his companions;while Neale, his bare knees bleeding from the result of a series ofvicious kicks, was banging grimly and desperately round the madman'swaist.

  The situation was indeed serious. The Scouts had bitten off more thanthey could chew, yet not one of them raised a shout for help.

  For the thir
d time the Leader of the "Wolves" tackled the madman, butere he could obtain a hold his feet slipped on the smooth rock.Tassh's fingers closed on Simpson's throat with a force thatthreatened to choke the Scout into insensibility. Simultaneously, bya back kick, the maniac sent Neale staggering, and well-nighbreathless, upon the prostrate Fraser. A multitude of lights flashedbefore Simpson's eyes . . . then his opponent's grip suddenlyrelaxed, and Atherton's voice was heard exclaiming:

  "It's all right, Simpson. Pull yourself together, man. I hope Ihaven't killed the fellow."

  Atherton had arrived in the nick of time. Something had prompted himto follow Simpson's scanty patrol; he knew by the sounds from therogue's lair that a desperate struggle was taking place. He leaptinto the little cave and with his staff struck the violent madman astunning blow, causing Tassh to sink inertly to the ground.

  As soon as Simpson and Fraser had sufficiently recovered, steps weretaken to get the insensible thief from his den. With a bowline roundhis waist, Tassh was hauled out of the hole, carried across the innercave and out into the open air.

  "We've found the rest of the silver, sir," announced Simpson.

  "That's good business," replied Mr Buckley. "It's time we had a rest.Put those lights out, Green, it must be close on dawn. Why, where isthe yacht?"

  In the pale grey light, the sea showed an unbroken expanse ofrippling water. The yacht with Phillips and Mayne had vanished.

  * * * *

  "I trust that rascal on board hasn't got the better of Phillips andMayne," said Mr Buckley.

  "So do I, sir," added Atherton. "He must be very smart to get thebetter of those two fellows."

  "Criminals are usually smart," remarked Green.

  "Not necessarily," replied the Scoutmaster. "They are frequently onlyclever in comparison with their dupes. But there is Hayes standing onthe cliff."

  Hayes and Coventry, having accomplished their task of signalling tothe coastguard, had returned to their post of observation, and haddutifully remained there during the whole of the night, since theScoutmaster had given no further instructions as to what they were todo.

  "Seen anything of the yacht?" shouted Atherton.

  "Yes," replied Hayes, "the coastguards towed her away."

  "Then Phillips and Mayne are all right," said the Scoutmaster,thankfully. "Now, lads, let's get our prisoners to the top of thecliff. The sooner we hand them over to the proper authorities thebetter."

  In very little time the police arrived from Polkerwyck, and Bill andthe madman, Tassh, were conveyed to the mainland. The Scouts, after awell-earned meal, were one and all soon sound asleep, never wakingtill close upon five in the afternoon, when Sir Silas Gwinnearcrossed over to Seal Island to personally compliment the Scouts ontheir success.

  "I am afraid, sir," said Mr Buckley, "we have been acting contrary toHeadquarter instructions. Particular emphasis is laid upon the factthat no Scouts' night operations should go on after eleven-thirty. Ionly hope that the exigencies of the case are sufficient excuse forturning day into night."

  "All the same, I do not know how to express my gratitude to theScouts," said Sir Silas. "That raises an awkward topic, Mr Buckley.You know that there is a reward out for the recovery of the silver?"

  "Scouts, Sir Silas, do not accept rewards for services rendered: goodturns, we call them."

  "So I previously learned," said the baronet, smiling at Atherton."All the same, if there is anything I can do . . . I suppose there isa limit of age for Scouts, Mr Buckley?"

  "Once a Scout, always a Scout, sir."

  "H'm. Well, perhaps I may be able to have a bit of my own way in thematter of showing my practical gratitude, Mr Buckley. Meanwhile,Scouts, I hope for the rest of your stay in Seal Island you will beable to conform to regular habits and enjoy yourselves far more thanyou have up to the present."

  "We've had a rattling good time, sir," replied the "Wolves" and the"Otters" in a chorus that carried conviction.

  "I'm glad to hear it," returned Sir Silas. "And, believe me, you havemade me envious of the Scouts of Seal Island."

  * * * *

  Little more remains to be said. The "Otters" and the "Wolves"prolonged their stay on Seal Island for three whole weeks beyond thefortnight originally intended, the extension being due to the factthat the Scouts had to give evidence at Bodmin Assizes against therascal known as Bill.

  The fellow was proved to be one of the assailants of Sir SilasGwinnear on Hungerford Bridge; and not only was he found guilty ofbeing concerned in the robbery of the baronet's silver, but anadditional charge, that of stealing a yacht from Avonmouth--the onethe Scouts captured with a quantity of the booty on board--was provedagainst him.

  His companion got off with six months' hard labour against Bill'sseven years' penal servitude. Tassh, hopelessly insane, was taken tothe county asylum.

  Thus the rogues of this story are accounted for.

  Collingwood College runs a larger, and equally efficient, troop thanof yore. Mr Trematon, now second master of the school, is still incommand; but we will look in vain for Dick Atherton, Phillips,Simpson, Neale and others of the young heroes of Seal Island amongstthe crowd of uniformed Scouts.

  Atherton is now fourth officer of the Empire Line--a steamshipcompany largely under Sir Silas Gwinnear's control. Fred Simpson islikewise in the merchant service, thanks to the Cornish baronet'spatronage. Phillips, Neale and Fraser have accepted good appointmentsin Canada, in connection with the wealthy firm of Gwinnear Ltd.;while every other original member of the "Otters" and "Wolves'"patrols has to thank Sir Silas for a good start in life.

  At all important Headquarter functions, Sir Silas will generally befound. He is never tired of expressing his high appreciation of themovement, and seems to take a delight in relating the circumstancesunder which his opinion changed, and how he had reason to be proud ofcertain members of his firm--the former Scouts of Seal Island.

  PRINTED BY MORRISON AND GIBS LTD., LONDON AND EDINBURGH

 
Percy F. Westerman's Novels