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Sappers and Miners; The Flood beneath the Sea, a novel by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 11. Fighting The Enemy |
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_ CHAPTER ELEVEN. FIGHTING THE ENEMY Gwyn Pendarve's "Come on!" was loyally responded to by Joe Jollivet, and the two lads made a hurried charge down the slope at the interloper so busy about the old mine-shaft. Now, if you take two dogs out for a walk in the country, unless they are particularly well-behaved, spiritless animals, as soon as they see sheep, cow, or bullock grazing, they will make a furious dash, and if the grazing creature runs, they will have a most enjoyable hunt. But if the quarry stands fast and makes a show of attacking in turn, the probabilities are that the dogs will slacken speed, stop short a few yards away, give vent to their opinions upon the unnatural behaviour of the animal in barks, lower their triumphantly waving tails, and come back at a gentle trot, stopping at times, though, to turn their heads and make a few more remarks in dog language. Truth to tell, when Gwyn and Joe made their charge, they fully expected to see the man leaning over the old wall start off and run; but, as it happened, he did not, but stood up, turned, and faced them, looking a big, sour-faced, truculent fellow, who scowled at them and stood his ground. Whatever their inclinations might have been for the moment, not being dogs, and each having his prestige to keep up in his companion's eyes, Gwyn and Joe certainly stopped; but they did not turn, but stood firm, noting that the man had a large reel of sea-fishing line evidently of goodly length. "Hullo!" he said, hoarsely. "What's for you?" "What are you doing here?" cried Gwyn. "What's that to you?" "Everything. Do you know you are trespassing?" "No. Am I?" "Yes, of course." "Thank ye for telling me. Good-morning." Gwyn stared, and then looked at Joe. For, instead of going at once, the man turned his back and drew upon his line, whose end--evidently weighted--was hanging down the shaft; but instead of continuing to draw it out, he let it run down again rapidly from a reel. "Here, stop that," cried Gwyn. "What are you doing?" The man turned upon them, scowling. "Hullo!" he said; "aren't you gone? What are you waiting for?" "To know what you're doing on our property." "Your property!" said the man, scornfully. "Can't you see what I'm doing? Fishing." "Fishing?" cried Joe, who felt staggered, and began wondering whether there might be any underground communication with the sea, through which some of the huge eels of the rocky cove might have made their way. "Yes, fishing," growled the man. "Don't make that row, because I've got one at me. Be off!" "Nonsense!" cried Gwyn, sharply. "There are no fish there." "How do you know, youngster?" said the man. "Ever tried?" "No," replied Gwyn; "but I do know that there are no fish in a hole like that." "Ho! You're precious cunning. But never you mind, my young sharpshooter. You be off while your shoes are good." "How dare you order me to go!" cried Gwyn, flushing. "I told you this was my father's property." "No, you didn't," said the man, after giving a glance round. "You said it was yours. Consequently you must be a liar, for you tells two tales. Now be off, and don't bother me." Joe looked inquiringly at Gwyn, and the silent question meant, "Hadn't we better go and fetch your father?" But Gwyn felt upon his mettle, and he cried angrily,-- "No, it's you who'll have to be off. You're on private grounds, and it's all nonsense about fishing. I know what you are about." "Oh, do you?" said the man, sneeringly, as he looked sidewise at the lad, but went on busily all the same with his long line. "Well, what am I about, young clever shaver, if I'm not fishing?" "You're trespassing, as I told you; and whoever you are, you've no right to be doing that." "Anybody's got a right to fish." "Yes, in the sea, but not on private grounds; so now be off at once." "And suppose I say I won't," said the man, menacingly. "But you won't now you're told. Be off, please, at once; we can't have you doing that." "Why, you're never going to interfere with a stranger who's trying to ketch a few podnoddles," said the man, grinning. "No, but I will with a stranger who has come spying and measuring that mine; so be off at once, and no more nonsense." "Let's fetch the Colonel," whispered Joe. "Yah! go and fetch your grandmother," snarled the man. "Look here, both of you, I didn't interfere with you; don't you come interfering with me, my lads, because I'm one of the sort who turns ugly when he's meddled with." Gwyn hesitated for a few moments, and then stepped close up, clapped his hand on the man's shoulder, and pointed toward the wall. "Come!" he cried; "that's the way, and don't you come here again." The man turned upon him with a wild-beast-like snarl. "Do you want me to pitch you down that hole?" he cried. "No, and you daren't do it," cried Gwyn, whose temper rose at this. "Now, then, will you go?" For answer the man swung round fiercely, bringing his right arm across Gwyn's chest and sending him staggering back for a yard or two. "Come on, Gwyn, let's fetch the Colonel." Gwyn's blood was up. He felt not the slightest inclination to run for help, but, big as the man was, he sprang forward with such energy that, in his surprise, the fellow gave way for the moment, and Gwyn seized the opportunity to make a snatch at the great reel he held, wrenched it from his hand, and threw it to Joe, who caught it as cleverly as if it had been a cricket ball. "Run round the other side, Joe, and drag it out. Run off with it. Never mind me." Joe obeyed on the instant, and, making for the other side, he dashed off up the side of the gully, dragging the line after him, and was some yards away before the man recovered from his surprise. "Oh, that's your game, is it?" he cried savagely. "I'll 'tend to you directly, my lad," and he made to pass Gwyn, who tried to stop him, but received a thrust which sent him backward on the heath, while the man started to follow Joe. But Gwyn's life on the rocky coast had made him as active as a cat, and as the fellow was passing he thrust out one leg, tripped him, and his adversary went down with a crash, while, before he could rise, Gwyn was upon him trying to hold him down. The boy was strong for his years, and, gripping his adversary by the collar with both hands, he drove his knees into the man's ribs, and held on. For some moments the advantage of position was on his side, but it was like trying to ride a mad bull. For the man heaved and twisted, and Gwyn had hard work to maintain his place as long as he did. This was till the man gave a tremendous writhe, sending his rider over sidewise, and then dashing after Joe, who was running as hard as he could go, trailing the line after him. Joe had a good start, and the advantage of being light and accustomed to make his way among the heath and stones; but he soon found that the weight at the end of the line kept on catching in the rough growth; and as he tore on, he saw that the fierce-looking fellow was in full pursuit. If he had dropped the line, he could easily have got away, but Gwyn had thrown that reel to him, and told him to run with it; and setting his teeth he ran on, jerking the weight free again and again, till all at once in one of the bounds it made after a heavy drag, it struck against a small post-like piece of granite which stuck up out of the ground, swung round and clasped it, as the bolas of a South-American Indian twine round the legs of a running animal, and the sudden jerk threw the boy down. He was up again directly, and turned to run and untwist the line, but it was only to rush into the man's arms, and be thrown, when with a foot upon his chest the fellow began to try and tear the line from his hands. But Joe's blood was up now, and he held on with all his might, turning himself over so as to get the reel beneath his chest. "Gwyn! Gwyn! Help!" he shouted. "All right!" came from behind him, and his comrade, who had been in pursuit, pitched heavily on to the man's back, when a trio in struggling commenced, the boys holding on with stubborn determination, and their enemy beginning to strike out savagely with fist and elbow. It was only a question of minutes, and then the boys would have been completely mastered. In fact, it had reached the pitch when the man had them both at his mercy and was kneeling between them, holding each by the throat, and forcing them back on the heather, when there was a loud whistle, the sound of a heavy blow, and the fellow uttered a savage yell as he sprang up and turned upon a fresh adversary. But _whish! crash_! the sounds were repeated, followed by a savage shout, and the man beat a retreat. For Colonel Pendarve had come panting up at the sight of the struggle, and, bringing to bear his old cavalry officer's skill, delivered three slashing sabre cuts with his heavy cane, the first from the right, the second from the left shoulder, putting the enemy thoroughly to rout. For the man left the trophies of the fight in the boys' hands, made for the road, and disappeared over the wall. _ |
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