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In the King's Name: The Cruise of the "Kestrel", a fiction by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 14. A Tempting Offer |
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_ CHAPTER FOURTEEN. A TEMPTING OFFER Hilary sat upon the window-ledge and listened, but he heard no further sound; so, coming to the conclusion that though he was extremely indignant he was also still uncommonly hungry, he drained the jug of milk, and went on steadily until he had finished his bread, after which, feeling better, he let himself down from the ledge, which was anything but a comfortable place, and began walking up and down the little chapel. For a few minutes he was too indignant to do more than think about his position; and he kept on muttering about "A gross case of kidnapping!" "Cowardly scoundrels!" "Insult to king's officer!" and a few more such expressions; but having partaken of food he felt easier and soon had another good look round the place. It was only a portion of the old chapel, and had evidently been patched and used for different purposes of late years, so that its old religious character was to a great extent gone. "I don't think it would be so very hard to get out," he said to himself, "if a fellow made up his mind to it, and--hallo! here's some one coming at last." His quick ears had detected footsteps, followed by the unlocking of a door; then the steps passed over a boarded floor in some empty echoing room. Then he heard voices, and the unlocking of another door, when the voices and steps sounded plainer, and he began to understand how it was that his shouts had not been heard, for the people, whoever they were, now seemed to come down along a stone passage before they stopped at and unlocked the door of his prison. As the heavy old door was thrown open Hilary saw two things--one which made him very cross, the other which made him very glad. The sight that roused his anger was Sir Henry Norland, in elegant half-military costume, with high riding boots and spurs; the other was a rough, ill-looking man, carrying a tray, on which was bread, a cold chicken, and what seemed to be a flask of French wine. Certainly Hilary had just partaken of food, but a draught of milk and some bread seemed only provocatives to fresh eating in the case of a young growing fellow who had been fasting for considerably more than twenty-four hours. "Set the tray down, Allstone," said Sir Henry. "Don't wait," he continued; "I'll lock the door after me when I come out." "The skipper said I was to keep charge of the young lad," said the man, surlily. "Keep charge, then," said Sir Henry sharply, "but wait outside." The man scowled and withdrew, whereupon Sir Henry held out his hand. "Well, Hilary," he said, "you and I seem to meet under strange conditions." "May I ask, Sir Henry," cried Hilary sharply, and without looking at the extended hand, "why I am seized, bound, and kidnapped in this disgraceful way?" "Certainly, my dear boy," said Sir Henry; "but let me tell you at once that I had nothing whatever to do with it." "Who had, then?" cried Hilary, with the blood flaming in his cheeks. "That I cannot exactly answer; but from what I can learn it seems that you were found prying rather too closely into the affairs of some friends of mine, and they pounced upon you and carried you off." "Yes, and I'll pounce upon some of them," cried Hilary, "and carry them off." "When you get your liberty," said Sir Henry with a smile. "Yes; when I get my liberty," cried Hilary; "and that sha'n't be long first. Even now my commander will be searching for me." "Very likely, Hilary," said Sir Henry; "but you must be very hungry. I have only just learned of your being here, and that you had not been attended to. The habits of my friends here are somewhat nocturnal, and hence they are irregular by day. Come, sit down, man, and eat. We campaigners are not so particular as some people." He seated himself upon the straw as he spoke, and looked up so frankly and with such friendly eyes at the young man, that Hilary was slightly softened. "Adela is here," he said. "Yes, I know; I have seen her this morning, Sir Henry." "Seen her! Oh, yes, I see--from the window. But come, fall to." Hilary glanced at the chicken and the bread, and felt disposed to resent his rough treatment, especially as just then the donkey brayed loudly, and fired off a salute of kicks against the side of the shed where he was confined; but there was a specially tempting brown side to that chicken, which looked tender and seductive, and Hilary argued that he should not be able to stand long upon his dignity if he starved himself, so he seated himself tailor-fashion beside the tray, and began to carve. "You'll take some, Sir Henry?" he said sulkily. "With pleasure," was the reply; and Sir Henry allowed himself to be helped, Hilary's carving being of a very primitive kind, but he managed to hack off a leg and a wing, and passed them to Sir Henry, who, in return, cut some bread, and poured out a glass of wine. The chicken came fully up to its looks, and those who discussed it were very busy for some little time. "There is only one glass," said Sir Henry. "Will you drink first, Hilary?" "No, Sir Henry. After you." "But I stand in the place of your host," said Sir Henry smiling. "However, I will set you the example after the good old custom, so as to show you that the wine is not drugged." "His majesty King Charles of England!" said Sir Henry, drinking a hearty draught before wiping his lips on a French cambric handkerchief. Then he refilled the glass and passed it to Hilary. "His majesty King George the Second of England," said Hilary taking the glass, "and down with the Pretender!" He said this defiantly, as he gazed full in Sir Henry's eyes; but the latter only smiled. "You foolish boy," he said lightly; "how little you know what you are saying." "I know that I am speaking like a loyal officer of the king, Sir Henry, and that if I did my duty I should arrest you at once on a charge of high treason." "And get my head chopped off, eh, Hilary? Rather comical that would be, my boy, for a prisoner to arrest his visitor, and keep him in prison with him; but how would you manage to give him up to the law?" Hilary bit his lip. Certainly it did seem laughable for him, a prisoner, to talk in such a way as that, and he felt vexed, and looked uneasily at his visitor; but he brightened up directly as he felt that he had shown his loyalty to the king he served. "So you believe in the Dutchman, Hilary?" "I don't understand you, Sir Henry," said the young man. "I say you believe in the Dutchman--the man you call George the Second-- the Pretender." "I do not believe in the Pretender," exclaimed Hilary quickly. "Don't quibble, my boy," said Sir Henry smiling. "You call my sovereign the Pretender, and that is what I call the man you serve. Good heavens, boy! how could you devote your frank young life to such a service?" Hilary had finished all he wanted of the chicken, and he sat and gazed in the baronet's face. "Well," said the latter, "what are you thinking?" "I was thinking, Sir Henry, how much better it would be if we were both to speak out frankly. Now, what do you mean?" "What do I mean?" said Sir Henry thoughtfully. He stopped and remained thinking. "I'll tell you what you mean, Sir Henry, if you like," said Hilary. "You have come here now, secure in your power, if you like to call it so, and you are going to try and win me over by soft words to join the other cause." "Indeed!" exclaimed Sir Henry, changing his ground. "I did not say anything to make you think such a thing as that." Hilary saw that he had made a mistake, and he, too, withdrew his argumentative position. "Perhaps I am wrong then," he said. "Presumably, Hilary. Why, my good boy, of what value would you be to us? I said what I did only out of compassion." This nettled Hilary, who, boylike, had no little idea of his importance in the world. "Oh, no, my dear boy, I only felt a little sorry; and as to being in my power, really I have no power whatever here. I am, as I told you, only a visitor." "On the Pretender's business," said Hilary sharply. "I did not say so," replied Sir Henry quietly. "But come, suppose we two enemies, in a political sense, leave off fencing and come, down to the matter of fact. Hilary, my boy, I am very grateful to you for your reticence the other day. You saved my life." "I am very glad I served you, Sir Henry; but I hope I shall never be placed in such a situation again. If I am, sir, I shall be obliged to give you up." "From a stern sense of duty," said Sir Henry laughing. "Well, now I want to serve you in turn, Hilary. What can I do for you?" "Have me immediately set at liberty, Sir Henry." "Ah! there you ask an impossibility, my boy. You know what you are supposed to have discovered?" "Yes." "And if you are set at liberty you will of course bring the _Kestrel_ abreast of a certain part of the shore and land your men?" "Of course." "Then is it likely, my dear boy, that these people here will give you the opportunity? No; I am ready to help you in remembrance of old days; and if you will give your word of honour as a gentleman not to go more than five hundred yards in any direction from this old place I dare say I can get for you that length of tether." "I'm to promise not to escape?" "Most decidedly; and if you do I dare say I can manage for your life to pass far more agreeably than in your close quarters on board the cutter, with a peremptory, bullying officer." "Lieutenant Lipscombe is my officer, and a gentleman, Sir Henry." "Lieutenant Lipscombe is your officer, and he is no gentleman, Hilary Leigh," said Sir Henry warmly. "But we will not discuss that. As I was saying, I daresay I can manage to make your life pass pretty pleasantly here. Adela will be your companion, and you can be boy and girl together again, and spend your time collecting and fishing and boating on the little river. It will be pleasant for both of you. All you will have to do will be to hear, see, and say nothing. Better still--don't hear, don't see, and say whatever you like. I will take care that a snug room is provided for you, and you will have your meals with us. Now what do you say?" "What is to become of my duty to my ship?" "A prisoner of war has no duties." "But I am not a prisoner of war, Sir Henry." "Indeed, my boy, that you are, most decidedly. You and yours make war on the gentlemen who fetch brandy and lace from the French coast." "And followers of the Pretender," said Hilary sharply. "I accept your correction, my boy--and followers of his most gracious majesty King Charles Edward." "Stuff!" cried Hilary. "Every man according to his lights, my boy. But as I was saying, your people make war against these people, and they generally act on the defensive. Sometimes they retaliate. This time they have taken a prisoner--you." "Yes, hang them!" cried Hilary. "No, no," laughed Sir Henry, "don't do that. No yardarm work, my boy. You see we do not offer to hang you; on the contrary, I offer you a comfortable happy life for a few months on parole." "A few months!" cried Hilary. "Perhaps a year or two. Now what do you say?" "No!" cried Hilary quickly. "Think, my boy. You will be kept a very close prisoner, and it will be most unpleasant. We want to use you well." "And you nearly smother me; you drag me here in a wretched donkey-cart; and you nearly starve me to death." "On chicken and wine," said Sir Henry smiling. "Come, Hilary, your parole." "No, Sir Henry," cried the young man, "I'll give no parole. I mean to get away from here, and I warn you that as soon as I do I'll bring brimstone and burn out this miserable wasps' nest; so get out of the way." "Then I must leave you to think it over, Hilary. There," he continued, rising, "think about it. I'll come and see you this evening." "Stop, Sir Henry," cried the young man, leaping up in turn; "this is an outrage on an officer in the navy. In the king's name I order you to set me at liberty." "And in the king's name I refuse, Master Hilary." "Then I shall take it," cried Hilary, making for the door, which he reached and flung open, but only to find himself confronted by three rough, sailor-looking fellows. "You see," said Sir Henry smiling. "Allstone, take away that tray. Good-bye for the present, Hilary. I will see you to-night." He went out of the door, which was slammed to and locked, and Sir Henry Norland said to himself: "I like the lad, and it goes against me to make him break faith; but it must be done. My cause is a greater one than his. Once on our side, he could be of immense service. He will have to be won over somehow, poor fellow. Let's see what a day or two's caging will do." Meanwhile Hilary was angrily walking up and down his prison, wroth with Sir Henry, with himself, and with fate, for placing him in such a position, to ameliorate which he climbed up to the window-sill and gazed out at the sunny meads. _ |
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