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Devon Boys: A Tale of the North Shore, a fiction by George Manville Fenn

Chapter 4. The Explosion

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_ CHAPTER FOUR. THE EXPLOSION

Bigley wanted no further telling, but started off at full speed diagonally down the slope, while Bob, who was all animation and good temper again, seized the iron bar, and began to look out for a suitable place for the charge.

"Hadn't we better wait and see if he can get the powder?" I ventured to say.

"Not we," said Bob. "He'll be sure to get it, and then--oh, I say, Sep, it will be a game!"

Once more I began to feel misgivings as to whether it would be such a game; but I said nothing, only looked on sometimes at Bob, who, in imitation of what he had seen at the quarries, or the places where they blasted out shelves in the cliff-side for houses to be built, was busy driving in a hole right under the big rock by means of the bar, and sometimes at where Bigley was shuffling and sliding down the side of the Gap till he disappeared behind the shed.

"If he gets the powder I wouldn't put much in," I said.

"Why not?"

"Because it may be dangerous."

"There, get out! Just as if I didn't know what I'm doing. I've watched the quarry-men lots of times."

"Will it split the rock?" I asked.

"All depends how you put your charge," said Bob very sagely. "I'm going to make it lift the rock, and drop it down over the side, and then away it'll go and sweep a lot of those big bits with it, just as if they were skittles, and they'll all go down like a big clatter stream to the bottom."

"Here's a better place here," I said, crawling down on the opposite side of the rock.

"No, it ain't," said Bob in his opiniated manner, and without looking. "It ain't half so good. This is the place. Now go and look, and see if old Big's coming back."

I rose up again, and shading my eyes looked down to the cottage, beyond which the sea was glittering in the sun.

"No," I said; "not yet. Yes, he is: here he comes."

"Has he got it?" cried Bob.

"I don't know," I replied, "he's so far-off; but he has got something. He's waving his handkerchief."

"Here, hi! Stop! Don't do that!" cried Bob, jumping up and throwing his arms about. "You'll spill all the powder. There's an old stupid. He don't take any notice."

"Why, how can he at all that distance away? You couldn't make him hear if he was only a quarter as far."

Bob did not reply, but sat down watching, and I did the same, while poor old Bigley came panting and toiling up the slope in the hot sun.

"Oh, isn't he jolly slow," cried Bob. "I wish I'd gone myself. It'll take him all day."

"You'd have lain down and gone to sleep before you were half-way up the hill," I said maliciously, and Bob tightened his lips.

"Go on," he said sourly. "I know what you want. You want to fall out, but I sha'n't. I hate a fellow who always wants to get up a fight. I came here to-day to see if we couldn't have a bit of fun, so I sha'n't quarrel. Oh, I say, what a while he is! He's just like old Teggley Grey's horse, only he ain't so quick."

Poor old Bigley wasn't quick, certainly, for it was hot, and hard climbing to where we were perched. To have come straight up was next to impossible: the only way was to come sidewise, getting a little higher as you walked along; and toiling industriously at his task, Bigley at last reached the foot of the piled-up mass where we were waiting.

"Oh, I say, come up. Be quick. What a while you have been!" said Bob. "Got it?"

"Oh, it's all very well to talk," panted Bigley wiping his forehead, "sitting down there so quietly. It's hot."

"Never mind about it's being so hot," cried Bob. "Have you got it?"

"Got what?"

"Did you ever hear such a chap?" cried Bob. "The powder."

"Why, of course I have. Didn't I go on purpose to get it?"

We both thought that the intention was not always followed by the deed, but we said nothing in our anxiety to get the material for our experiment; and as Bigley had come to a halt, we had to go down about a hundred feet to help him climb up the rest of the way, when he drew out a pint tin can full of powder, the flint and steel, and a piece of rag, which he had taken the precaution to damp in the stream and then wring out before starting back.

We set to work at once making the damp rag into a fuse by rubbing it well with the coarse-grained gunpowder, and then, it being decided that we could not do better than leave the powder in the tin canister, whose opening answered admirably for the insertion of the rag fuse, Bob set to work to enlarge the hole he had made till it was big enough to admit the charge.

Then with great care the end of the rag was thrust into the powder, and held there with a piece of slaty chip, sufficient length of the rag being left to reach out beyond the side of the stone.

Next Bob took the tin and thrust it into its place far under the rock, and the only remaining thing to do was to light the fuse and get well out of the way.

"Who's going to nick the steel?" I said.

"Well," said Bob coolly, "as I've done nearly all the rest of the work you may as well do that."

I felt a moment's hesitation, nothing more, and taking the flint, steel, and tinder-box, with a brimstone match, I went down on my knees beside the stone, where the piece of rag lay out ready, and after a great deal of nicking I made one of the sparks I struck fall into the tinder-box, and, after the customary amount of blowing, produced enough glow to ignite the tip of the brimstone-dipped match, which by careful shading fluttered and burned with a blue flame nearly invisible in the noontide light.

It was an extremely risky proceeding, for we had dropped some of the powder in among the short dry moss and stones, and then, too, the rag was drying fast, and it was quite within the range of possibilities that when I lit one end it might communicate too rapidly with the powder in the canister, and the explosion would take place before I could get out of the way.

But Bob Chowne and Bigley were standing only a couple of yards behind me, ready to dodge behind some of the great rocks on the comb of the ridge, and I believe that in those days I possessed so much of the Spartan fortitude which pervaded our school, that I would sooner have been blown up than show fear. So I sheltered my match, bending lower and lower, till I could bring it to a level with the powder-smeared rag, which caught at once, and began to sparkle and scintillate, sending up a thin blue flame at the same time.

That was enough, and throwing the match away, I began to back towards the lookers-on, but hearing a scuffling noise among the stones, I looked round to see that they were both running.

"Come on!" shouted Bob. "Look sharp, Sep!"

As they had begun to run it seemed to be no shame for me to do the same, so I darted after them, and found them just on the other side of the ridge, lying down behind some of the great rocks.

"That's right," cried Bob. "Creep close; nothing can hurt us here. Are you sure you left the thing burning?"

"Quite," I said. "It must be off directly."

I don't know whether Bigley was aware of the fact, but he crept close between two rocks and behaved just as an ostrich is said to do, for he stuck his head right in and then seemed to consider that he was quite safe.

Suddenly, as we were listening impatiently for the explosion, an idea occurred to me.

"I say," I said, "what's the good of all this? We sha'n't see the stone go down."

Bob started up in a sitting position, and gave Bigley a tremendous slap which made him follow suit.

"Why, you are a chap!" he said as the idea came home to him too. "Why didn't you say so sooner?"

"I didn't think of it," I replied.

"Oh!" exclaimed Big dolefully, "what was the use of me taking all that trouble about the powder. I'm hot yet with climbing."

"It's all Sep Duncan's fault," cried Bob. "I never did see such a chap as he is. Well, what's to be done now?"

"Let's go on the top again and see it go," cried Big.

"Oh, no," I said, "it wouldn't be safe till the powder's gone off."

"You mean it wouldn't have been safe if I'd done what you wanted," cried Bob triumphantly. "I say, Big, he wanted me to put the powder under the stone on the other side, so that when it went off it would have blown the stone over this side instead of down into the Gap, only I wouldn't."

"Well, it does seem a pity after taking all that trouble," cried Bigley dolefully. "I say, isn't it time it started?"

"Yes," said Bob in his sour way. "I don't believe old Sep lighted the rag."

"That I'm sure I did, and it was smoking fast when I came away."

"Ran away, you mean, you coward!"

"Ho--ho--ho!" laughed Bigley.

"What are you laughing at, stupid?" said Bob.

"At you. Didn't you say to me, 'come on, Big, let's run for it now. It's all alight.'"

"Well, I thought it was then, old clever-shakes. Don't you be so precious ready with your tongue."

"Here, don't make all this bother," I said pettishly. "I did light the rag, and it has gone out again. Never mind, I can soon get another light."

"Let's wait a minute first," said Bob cautiously.

It was good advice, and we did wait I suppose quite a minute, but to us it seemed more than five, and considering now that it was quite safe, I jumped up and we went back to the ridge, looking eagerly towards the place where the stone hung over the Gap, but it was hidden from us by the great blocks we had run round, or else probably we might have seen what we smelt--the thin blue stream of smoke that curled up from beneath the great block.

As it was, our noses and not our eyes saved us, for I being in front, and just about to pass on to the open edge of the Gap, stopped suddenly and said:

"I can smell burning. Can't you?"

"I can smell the tinder," said Bob. "Go on and--"

He did not finish his speech, for the earth shook beneath our feet, and we saw a flash and a great puff of smoke, and quite a hurricane of bits of slate and stone and earth came flying by our ears, turning us into statues for the moment. Then I bounded forward, followed by my companions, to stand beneath a broad canopy of smoke that floated inland, and just in time to see the great stone go rumbling and bounding down the precipitous place like a pebble, gathering force moment by moment, till it seemed to glance from a stone and make one tremendous leap of quite a couple of hundred feet right into a clump of rugged masses of rock half-way down the precipice, and these it scattered and drove before it in one great avalanche of _debris_ down and down and down till the bottom was reached, and what had increased into quite a little landslip settled into its new home with a sullen roar. _

Read next: Chapter 5. We Dine With A Smuggler

Read previous: Chapter 3. A Gunpowder Plot

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