Chapter 9. A Friend In Need...

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_ CHAPTER NINE. A FRIEND IN NEED--MARGERY ESCAPES--MARGERY'S MISSION

Tom and Charley had gone through so much that they could not calculate at all what hour of the night it then was. They had not noted the hour when they commenced their adventure, but remembered that it was then daylight; they had had no dinner, and they felt very hungry. They were hurrying along a path which led through a hollow, when on the hill above them they saw a female figure. She stopped and looked about, either to find the path or in expectation of some one. What could she want at that hour of the night, in so lone a place? They were under the shadow of a stone wall, and she evidently did not see them. They hesitated whether to remain concealed, as it occurred to both that her appearance there was in some way or other connected with the smugglers. However, after waiting a minute, she came down the hill with the light step of a young girl; when, catching sight of them, instead of retreating she came boldly forward. "Oh, Tom, oh, Mr Charles, I am so glad to see you all right!" she exclaimed, as she got near enough for them to recognise the features of Polly Herring, the smuggler's daughter. "I heard that something dreadful was going to happen, and I came along to try and stop it."

"And you thought, Polly, that your father was in it, and may be James Trevany, and you did not wish them to get into trouble. Was not that it, Polly?"

"Yes! Tom, that was one reason," answered the girl, frankly; "another was that I wanted to save you and Mister Charles from coming to harm; and now I'll ask you, if father or James get into trouble, to speak a good word to the captain to help them out of it."

"The captain is a just man, and will return kindness with kindness, no doubt of that," answered Tom. "But I say, Polly, if any one can find out where Miss Margery is, you can, for I am as certain as I stand here that your father, or James, or some of your friends, had a hand in carrying her off. Come, speak the truth, girl; you'll gain more by helping us to find her than by any other way."

"Yes! it was a cruel shame to carry her away," she muttered, in a low voice; "but I dare not indeed I dare not."

"Dare not do what, Polly?" asked Tom, in a soothing tone.

"Tell where she is, or help you to get her," answered the girl, promptly.

"Then you do know where she is, Polly, and may be who took her away, and all about her," said Tom. "Now what I've got to say is this, that just do you do what's right, and never do you fear what any one can do to you."

The girl still hesitated.

"Just let me ask you a question, Polly," continued Tom. "Is your father in trouble, or James? Tell me that."

"Yes! the revenue men have got some information against them, and are after them both."

"Then depend on't, Polly, the best thing for them is to give up Miss Margery before they are caught," said Tom; "they'll gain nothing by giving her up afterwards. The law doesn't make terms with people."

"But they're terrible people who've got her," answered Polly. "They'd as soon shoot you, or me, or anybody, as look at us, if we came near them."

"We don't fear terrible men," said Tom, laughing, "just do you put us in the way of getting back Miss Margery, and we'll say as many good words as we can for thy father, Polly, and for James too, if he needs them."

"But you'll do no harm to those who have got her, and all you'll say is that Polly Herring, Dick Herring's daughter, helped you to get her back," said the girl, in a tone which showed that she still feared the consequences of what she was about to do.

Charley had not before spoken, but he now thanked her, and urged her to lose no time in restoring Margery to them.

"Come on, then," she said, in a firm voice; "it's a long way from here, but you may be there and back at the Tower with the little girl before daybreak." These words made Charley's affectionate heart beat with joy. Polly added, however, "We must be careful, though, for if we were to fall in with any of our people it would go hard with you and me too."

Polly had well-knit limbs, and, being accustomed to active exercise, led the way at a rapid rate. She seemed well acquainted with the road, for she never stopped or hesitated as to which path to take, and Charley soon totally lost the direction in which he was going, and Tom had no little difficulty in keeping up with her.

They had thus gone on for some distance, when Polly stopped and stood as if listening.

"I hear some coming; we must hide, and quick too, for if they are those I fancy, and they catch us, our lives are not worth much."

A high bank with a hedge on the top of it was on one side, and as she spoke she led the way through a gap, and the adventurers found themselves perfectly concealed from any one passing along the road. Scarcely had they got behind the hedge, when a party of five or six men appeared, talking in subdued tones, but high enough to allow some of their words to be heard. They were uttering oaths and breathing vengeance against the revenue officers and others, by whom their plans had been defeated. From the mood they were in, Charley felt that it would have been very unpleasant to have again encountered them. Polly waited for some time before she ventured into the road, and then she led on, without speaking, as fast as ever. The ground became very rough, and they went up and down hill till the sound of the surf told that they were once more approaching the sea.

As they were ascending a steep, rocky hill, covered with loose stones, a light appeared before them. They crept on cautiously, imitating Polly's way of proceeding.

"They have taken her there," she whispered, pointing to a cottage, the dim outline of which could be seen. "This very night, if the weather had been fine, they would have carried her across the Channel. There's no time to lose, for they won't let her stay long, and if we don't get her to-day, to-morrow she may be far off from this."

Again she moved on, till she reached a low stone wall, which formed a fence to the garden of the house. "Stay still as death here," she whispered. "There's a terrible woman lives there. If she was to find out what I was about she'd kill me though I am her own flesh and blood, and you too, and, may be, in her rage, the little girl too." Saying this, Polly stole on towards the cottage.

Charley had expected that he should have been called on to run some personal risk, and to carry off Margery from the grasp of half-a-dozen fierce smugglers or so, and he felt somewhat disappointed at the inactive part he was called on to play. From the words Polly had dropped he guessed that the cottage was the one inhabited by old Dame Herring, who was looked upon by the inhabitants of the country for miles round as a witch, and known to be a very bad character. She took advantage of her evil reputation, and practised on the credulity of the people. It is not necessary to mention her bad practices. A few years before she would very probably have been burnt as a witch; she now ran a risk of being ducked in a horse-pond.

Polly seemed to be a long time absent. Tom had the gift of patience, and was accustomed to wait, and so, though he was fully as anxious as Charley to have Margery safe under his charge, he made no complaint; but Charley began to lose patience, and to wonder what could have become of Polly, contemplating even going to look for her. Those who have had experience in life know that it is much more difficult to wait for an event than to rush forward to meet it; passive courage is therefore often the greatest. Still, when difficulties occur, the wisest course is boldly to face them at once. To the eyes of the multitude the soldier who rushes onward into the thickest of the fight may appear the bravest, and yet he may be a positive coward, urged forward by despair. The truly brave is he who can stand undaunted to meet the shock of the onset. Charley had to wait and wait till his patience was taxed to the utmost. At length his ear caught a light footstep approaching, and Polly came up to him. "I couldn't get the little girl out, for she is shut up in a room by herself," she whispered. "I had to wait till they were all asleep, and then I crept out to tell you. Still, I think if you are careful you may manage to get her. I will show you the window of the room where she is shut up, and if you can climb in and awake her without making any noise you may do it; but understand that there are several men sleeping in the cottage with loaded pistols under their heads, which they are very quick to use; and remember that the slightest noise will alarm them. Come along, but you must wait ten minutes to let me get into the cottage before you begin your business."

Charley and Tom, of course, promised to attend to Polly's injunctions, and eagerly followed her through the garden to the back of the cottage. She showed them the window, which seemed a very small one, about eight feet from the ground; and then, with her finger on her lips, disappeared round the corner. Charley waited what he considered a very long ten minutes, but Tom, who could calculate better, held him tight, as a sign that it was not yet time to move, and at last bent his back with his head against the wall, and signed to him to get on the top of it. This Charley did with alacrity, and grasping the window-sill, drew himself up till he got his knees on it, and he was then able without noise to open one side of the lattice window. There was barely room for him to creep through, but he managed to do so without making any noise, and at length he stood inside. He looked round anxiously into the room. At that moment a gleam of moonlight burst through the passing clouds, and showed him a small bed, and Margery, completely dressed, sleeping soundly and peaceably on it. He was afraid if he awakened her suddenly she might speak or cry out; so taking off his shoes he crept softly up to her, and kissing her brow, whispered low in her ear, "Margery, Margery, don't speak--a friend--Charley has come for you, to take you home."

She opened her eyes, which Charley could see, for the moonbeam cast its light directly on her countenance; a sweet smile came across it, and he thought that she had never looked more lovely; but she evidently thought that she was dreaming.

"Dear Margery, wake up; Charley has come to take you away from this place," he repeated.

"Is it possible?" she asked, in the same low voice in which he spoke, and took his hand. The touch assured her.

"Yes, yes! I am ready; oh, thank you, thank you!"

Charley helped her to rise, and to step softly across the room. He then got through the window, and holding on, as only a sailor or a cat could, to nothing, helped her through and lifted her down to Tom, who couldn't refrain from giving her a hearty kiss in his joy at recovering her. Charley then put on his shoes, and dropped noiselessly to the ground. "They brought me here without shoes, and would give me none for fear I should run away," she whispered; "but I will try to walk without them."

"Not for worlds, Margery," answered Charley. "We'll carry you all the way, never fear."

"Aye, aye, Miss Margery," said Tom; "I've carried you many a mile when you was a baby and you was no heavier than a feather, and I've still strength left in my old arms to carry you now that you are a young lady nearly grown, I may say."

Margery could only murmur her thanks, as Tom bore her in his arms across the garden and down the hill at a rapid rate, Charley bringing up the rear, and ready to do battle should they be pursued.

Polly had so far proved faithful, and Charley hoped sincerely that the part she had played in the affair might not be discovered by her associates. Still, he cast many an anxious glance behind him as they descended the steep, rough hill side, lest any of the smugglers should have been aroused, and have come in pursuit. Their chief difficulty was to find the way; but they guessed pretty correctly the direction of the Tower, the moon still affording them the assistance of her light. They did not even stop to rest, Tom declaring that Miss Margery was still almost as light as a feather, if not quite as light as when she was a baby. They had thus made good progress, when Charley said that he heard footsteps.

"May be," answered Tom; "but they must be stout fellows who will dare to take our Miss Margery from us."

"I am not at all afraid of anybody now," said Margery. "I am sure, Charley, that you and Tom would not let them take me from you." Charley of course promised that no one should, and as they did not believe that any smugglers would venture to interfere with them, should any be met, they continued their course. However, before they had gone much further, two very suspicious-looking personages overtook them and asked various questions, as to whence they had come and where they were going.

"Easily answered, mates," said Tom; "we are coming from the place we last stopped at, and we are going home, and our business is nobody else's, do ye see?"

Whatever had been the intentions of the men, Tom's firm bearing, and Charley's determined air, as he brought up the rear, following Tom as a bull-terrier does the heels of his master, ready to fly at any one venturing to interfere with him, made them alter their purpose.

"I thought as how those piratical craft would sheer off if we showed a bold front," said Tom, as the men turned down a lane on one side. "It's a great point to show an enemy that you are wide awake and not afraid of him. Mind you that, Master Charley. There's a great enemy, too, who is always going about seeking whom he may devour; and if he finds that we are prepared for him, and know how to resist him, he'll be off like a shot."

At length the door of the Tower was reached. Becky, who opened it, instead of welcoming them as they might naturally have expected that she would, stared wildly at them, and then throwing her apron over her head ran back screaming, "There are ghosts--there are ghosts--there are ghosts at the door!"

"No we ain't," said Tom, bluntly, as he entered; "but we've brought back Miss Margery all right, and she'll be glad of some grub presently, and so shall we by and by I'm thinking,--eh, Master Charley? But just do you first, as soon as you have got your five senses back, run up and tell the captain and missis. They'll not be sorry to hear the news, at all events."

In another minute Margery was in her parents' arms, and they were thanking Heaven that she had been safely restored to them.

Little Margery had kept up her courage wonderfully, from the moment she was seized till her return home. She said that she was awake and thought that she saw Becky collecting her clothes, when suddenly she was taken up in the arms of a woman; she supposed her mouth was gagged and her eyes blinded, and she was carried swiftly along, down into some damp place and along passages into the open air, and finally into the cottage where Charley had found her. She had had no fear about being ill treated, for she did not think any one would hurt a little girl like herself. She was very grateful, however, to Charley and Tom for all the risk they had run to rescue her.

Tom and Charley's adventures created great surprise, for the captain could not conceive how they could have got out of the vaults; and it was not until they had all together paid another visit to it that they discovered the aperture lately blocked up with loose stones, and then at length guessed that it had been done by the smugglers to cut off pursuit. The result of the whole proceeding was the very reverse of what the smugglers had expected. In their foolish ignorance they fancied that they could frighten away a sensible man, like Captain Askew, from the Tower by their notable scheme of making it be supposed that it was haunted.

We may be surprised at their gross representations of ghosts and spirits, but which were undoubtedly exact imitations of their own conceptions of such things; nor does it at all follow, that because some of them ventured to appear in the character of ghosts, they did not firmly believe in their existence. Probably their own superstitious fears would as easily have been worked on as they hoped to work on those of others.

A considerable amount of the property of the gang, which they had not time to remove, was seized when they left their chief stronghold and place of rendezvous on the coast, where they had long defied the vigilance of the revenue officers, and many of them were driven away from the coast. The entrance to the cave from the sea was carefully blocked up, so that no one could again undermine the Tower, and attempt to play off such tricks on the inmates.

Mr Ludlow, accompanied by Stephen, rode over to the Tower to congratulate his tenants on the recovery of their daughter. "I am very glad to see the young lady back, and safe, and well; but," he added, "I have a bone to pick with her. What do you think, captain? She has actually been endeavouring to persuade my only son to go to sea, that he may spend his life in searching for your poor boy, whom she asserts is still alive in some island of the Pacific, either in consequence of reading a child's book, or from some cock-and-bull story which she heard from an old sailor one day, who was never afterwards to be found to corroborate the truth of his narrative. I wish bygones to be bygones, and I would rather not have alluded to the subject, but I really do not know what powerful influence she may exert over him, though I cannot say that at present he has any fancy for the undertaking; but I wish, at all events, to nip the project in the bud."

As may be supposed, Captain Askew was not a little astonished at this address, while he could not but be sensible of the want of feeling of the man who could thus coldly speak of his long-lost son, that son who had been banished in consequence of Mr Ludlow's own stern decree. "I was not aware that my little Margery entertained any such notion," he answered mildly. "Did she, I should have supposed that your son, Stephen, however much she may esteem him as a friend, was the very last person she would have selected for the scheme."

"Oh, the foolish boy lent her a book, a copy, I believe, of Defoe's 'Robinson Crusoe,' and as he describes a person living on an island for a number of years by himself, she has taken it into her head that her brother may have escaped shipwreck, and be still alive on one of the many islands which I understand stud parts of the Pacific."

"I have only to repeat that my daughter has not mentioned the subject to me, and I will undertake that she does not induce your son to act contrary to your wishes," answered Captain Askew.

"Very well, neighbour, I will trust to your word," said Mr Ludlow, in his usual supercilious manner, which, to a man of a temper less mild than the captain, would have been very galling. "I, of course, have other designs for him than to lead the life of a sailor."

When Mr Ludlow and Stephen had taken their departure, he could not help repeating to himself, "he may be alive on one of the many islands which stud parts of the Pacific. The sailor's story may be true, or it may be only dear Margery's fancy. It is but natural that she should indulge in it; I would that I had health and strength, and the means to go out and search for the dear boy--dear whether alive or dead."

That evening the captain spoke of their boy to his wife. He would not venture to raise her hopes. He scarcely hinted at the possibility of his having escaped from the wreck, and yet he spoke of such things having happened to others. Margaret's reply was, "God's will be done. He knows what is kept for us in all respects."

In the meantime, Stephen had told Margery that his father objected decidedly to his becoming a sailor, that he might go and look for her brother Jack; an announcement which the young lady received with much dignity, and an expression of contempt on her pretty countenance which it was not wont to wear.

"Of course, Mr Stephen Ludlow, you are right in doing what your father wishes," she observed; "and now I think over the matter you are not at all fitted to become a sailor. Sailors are true friends--generous, brave, kind, and liberal; I was mistaken when I supposed that you were likely to possess those qualities. Good-bye. I do not want to quarrel with you, but now you know what I think."

Margery was not aware how severe her words might have sounded. Stephen did not fully understand their meaning, but he felt very sheepish, and had an idea that it would probably be some time before he again paid a visit to Stormount Tower. Margery had, however, far from abandoned her idea. She had for some time naturally thought that Charley Blount would be the proper person to perform her behests, and she felt certain that he would very gladly undertake the task she might assign him. She put the matter before him, and to her great delight he at once undertook her mission.

"I cannot say that your brother Jack is alive," he observed; "but this I promise, that if he is I will do my utmost to find him and bring him home." _

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