CHAPTER XXIV
A LEVY EN MASSE
To lie on one's back, bitted like a horse, trussed like a chicken, withflies and midges disporting themselves, unchecked, about one's features,and ants making adventurous journeys among one's clothes, is a situationthat, to say the least of it, puts a strain upon a man's patience andequanimity. It is not greatly eased by the liberty of his eyes whentheir range is limited by dense overhanging foliage, which stirs in thebreeze, opening tantalising glimpses of a sunbright sky.
On his turfy couch Warrender lay, groaning inwardly, cursing himself fordelaying his errand, and Fate for bringing his enemies just then uponthe scene; vexing his soul with visions of his companions caughtunawares, and of Mr. Pratt still chained to his post; blaming himself,with the insight of the afflicted, for having countenanced a scheme thatusurped the functions of the officers of the law. A fly feasted on hisnose; gnats buzzed in and out of his ears; ants chased one another overhis neck and up his arms, causing him to feel one multitudinous andintricate itch.
He had tried to wriggle himself free from his bonds, but Rush had notbeen poacher and fisher for nothing. Desisting from his vain struggles,he lay mumbling his gag, shaking his head like a tormented horse, and,as the minutes passed, sweating with alarm.
Presently his straining ears caught the faint regular thud of oarsturning in rowlocks. The sound drew nearer. He tried to shout, but wascapable of nothing more than a gurgling grunt. The knowledge that a boatwas rounding the southern end of the island set him a-throb with hope,anxiety, despair--for what should bring the oarsman to shore? If,indeed, he should land, what should draw him to this overgrown spot, orcause him to pry among the bushes? The sound began to recede; the boatwas passing on down the river; his momentary hopefulness was crushedunder the weight of disappointment.
But after a little while his numb spirit was revivified by the sound ofoars approaching again. He listened with throbbing eagerness. Themovements were not now so regular; they were interrupted; presently theyceased altogether. Then he heard a rustle, and a slight thud as of somelight-footed person jumping ashore. Again he tried to shout, but onlythe feeblest groan issued. All was silent. The new-comer, whoever itwas, had seemingly not moved. But--was that not a cry?--a faint coo-ee,like an attenuated echo rather than a substantive sound. It came again,a little louder. After an interval, a third time, louder still. Butthere was no footstep, no rustling of branches, or swishing in troddengrass.
Frenzied by the thought of some one standing within easy reach ofhim--some one, too, who was seeking, if not him, at any ratesomebody--Warrender jerked his jaw until he succeeded in shifting alittle the handkerchief knotted behind his poll; and, blowing out hischeeks, he fetched from the depth of his throat a note like the boom ofa bull-frog. He heard--or was it fancy?--a muffled exclamation. Againhe boomed. Then--surely he was not mistaken?--a light-toned voice,asking, with the breathless utterance of surprise, "Who is it?" Hecould but reply with his inarticulate bass note. Footsteps came towardshim; then hesitated. He boomed encouragement.
"Where are you?"
The words were scarcely above a whisper. Boom, boom! The swishingfootsteps advanced, leaves clashed together, twigs snapped, andWarrender, feeling that his throat would crack and his cheeks burst,kept up his hollow note in moto continuo--accelerando--crescendo, as thehoped-for relief drew nearer.
Presently, after what seemed an age, the foliage above his head wasgently, timorously parted, and his eyes beheld amazement, concern,indignation in the face of Lilian Crawshay.
"Oh!" she exclaimed, pushing through the shrub. "What--why--oh, youpoor thing!"
She dropped on her knees, lifted his head, and swiftly untied the knotin the handkerchief.
"Thank you," he gasped.
"Who did it? What does it mean? But presently--presently. Your arms!"
Turning, she sought to untie the knots. They were too firm, the ropetoo coarse, for her little fingers.
"My knife--coat pocket," murmured Warrender.
In a trice she found the knife; even its keen blade she had to use as asaw before the bonds were severed. Warrender got up, stiffly. Hestretched his aching arms, shook himself, stamped his feet.
"I can't thank you enough," he said, the words coming hoarsely throughhis parched lips.
"But who had the wickedness----? Never mind; tell me presently. Whatcan I do? There is something--something terrible, I know. What can Ido to help?"
"Will you row me to our camp? As we go, I shall be able to explain. Myvoice is coming back."
"Yes, let us go. Let me help you."
She took his arm, hurried him on his cramped legs to the skiff that layhalf on the bank, and, hauling this into the water, assisted him to thestern thwart. Then she turned, ran a few steps to Rush's boat, andbrought from it Warrender's cap.
"But for this----" she began. "Oh, it's too horrible!"
Springing to her seat facing him, she unshipped the sculls and began topull up stream.
"I rowed to your camp," she said. "My father gave me a message for you.I was surprised to find it deserted, and came down, thinking I might seesome of you on the water. But there was no sign of you, and I wasreturning when I caught sight of the cap in Rush's boat. I wondered. Iknew it belonged to one of you, and it surprised me to find it there. Igot ashore. Did you hear me coo-ee? It was very soft; I hardly knewwhat to think."
Warrender nodded.
"Then I heard that strange sound. I was a little frightened; but aftera moment I thought it might be Mr. Pratt; he is funny sometimes. It waswhen you didn't answer that I thought something must be wrong,and--well, you know. I am so glad I didn't run away. How long had youbeen in that dreadful position?"
"I don't know--an age."
"And was it Rush?"
"Yes. I must tell you. The foreigners at the Red House----"
"Oh, I guessed! Dear old Father was so mysterious. Did he tell you tokeep it from me?"
"Well, yes, he did."
"I knew it. Why does a man like to play the ostrich? I knew ages agothere was something strange happening, and we poor women creaturesmustn't be startled, shocked. Daddy is an Early Victorian. Is it sovery horrid?"
"It's a long story. D'you mind if I tell you later? I want you toland, if you will, at the camp, and go across to your house as quicklyas possible, and ask Mr. Crawshay to bring every man he can muster,armed, to the tower in Mr. Pratt's grounds. One thing I had better tellyou at once: the foreigners had Mr. Pratt a prisoner in the tower."
"Good gracious! Mr. Ambrose Pratt?"
"Yes. Here we are. Please give my message at once. Mr. Crawshay willpartly understand. Impress on him that speed is vital."
"And you?"
"I am going to rush up to the village in the motor-boat."
"But are you able?"
"Quite. The stiffness is wearing off. Tell Mr. Crawshay I am takingsome men--all the able-bodied men I can collect--to the tower, and if hecan somehow send a message to the nearest town for the police----"
"Yes; I understand. We've no telegraph or telephone in this benightedplace, but it shall be done. You are quite sure you can manage alone? Idon't think you are fit for much exertion, you know."
"I'm quite all right," replied Warrender, smiling as he handed the girlashore. "By the way, Pratt and Armstrong are in the tower. Will youtell Mr. Crawshay that? And speed is all important."
"I'll run like a hare. Good-bye. I do hope----"
She left her thought unsaid, and, gathering her skirt, fled across thefield towards her home.
Ten minutes afterwards, Warrender ran the motor-boat alongside thelanding-stage, sprang ashore, and hurried up to the Ferry Inn. The doorwas open--it was the mid-day interval for refreshment--and he saw a goodmany familiar figures with their elbows on the bar, or tipping up thepots which Joe Rogers, in his shirt-sleeves, had drawn for them. Hisarrival precisely at th
is moment could not have happened more luckily.Rogers greeted him with a smile; Henery Drew and one or two othersnodded and went on drinking. No one spoke; the countryman takes aminute or two to think of an opening.
"Rogers, my friends, I want your help," said Warrender. The rusticslooked at him solemnly. He went on, not pausing to choose his words:"Those foreigners are forging Treasury notes in Mr. Pratt's tower. Theyhave Mr. Pratt himself a prisoner there." Eyes widened; pots weresuspended in mid course. "My chums have got in and are holding theplace against them. I want every man of you to come with me and lend ahand. With your help we'll collar the whole gang. There's no time tolose."
No one moved. Rogers stood staring, with his hand on the draw-pull.The others gaped.
"Don't you understand?" cried Warrender. "Mr. Pratt's in danger.They're desperate criminals--six or eight of them against three. You,Mr. Drew--you're a soldier. Rogers----"
"What have they done to my sister Molly?" shouted Rogers. "Neighboursall, do 'ee hear? Mr. Pratt, as we thought abroad--'od rabbit it all,come on!" He darted round the counter.
"Got a gun, Rogers?" asked Warrender.
"Ay, there's a fowling-piece in the parlour," cried the man, runningback again.
"I've got one up along," said Drew. "Do 'ee say now! I'll fetch 'en."
"Stay!" said Warrender. "There isn't time. You must bring what you can.Don't delay. Sticks, forks, spades--you've a mattock there," he added,addressing a man on the settle against the wall. "Bring it along. Allof you bring what you can lay hands on. Mr. Drew, you're an active man.Run up into the village and collect all the men you can find, and takethem up to the Red House by the road. Set a couple to guard the gate,lead the rest on to the tower. You others, borrow some garden toolsfrom Rogers--or anything; and come with me. Here's Rogers." Theinnkeeper, minus his wig, came back with his fowling-piece. "You'll lendyour tools?"
"Ay sure. In the shed, neighbours; you do know the way. My poorMolly!"
"I give you five minutes!" cried Warrender. "Come down to the ferry.I'll wait for you--five minutes only."
He hurried out, followed by Rogers. The younger men among the rest,bestirring themselves at last, went round the inn into the garden.Within five minutes a group of seven, armed with hoe, rake, spade,mattock, fork, fowling-piece, and coal-hammer, was gathered on thelanding-stage.
"Squeeze into the boat," said Warrender. "I'll run you down and land youopposite No Man's Island. You must pack tight."
"'SQUEEZE INTO THE BOAT.'"]
They crowded into the boat. Warrender opened the throttle. A shriekwas heard, and Mrs. Rogers came flying out of the inn, flourishing herhusband's wig.
"Joe, you gawkhammer, you've left your hair behind."
"Make it into a stew and be jowned to it!" shouted Rogers, as the boathummed away.
Landing on the bank opposite the cottage, the party hurried through theplantation, Warrender taking the lead.
"No talking, men," he said.
They emerged into the park. The tower came in sight. From the roof adense column of brown smoke rose straight into the still air. Rogersgroaned.
"God send we be in time!" he murmured, as he pounded heavily along.