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Witness to the Deed, a novel by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 17. Breaking The Cage |
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_ CHAPTER SEVENTEEN. BREAKING THE CAGE Night at The Foreland--and a dark night; the moon not due for hours, and when she rose not likely to be seen for the heavy clouds which blotted out the stars. Lights were out in the great building, which stood up by day gloomy, many-windowed, and forbidding on the huge promontory, crossed by wall and works, and with sentries between the convict establishment and the mainland. The other three sides had the waves, which washed the nearly perpendicular precipices, for warders, and it was only here and there that an active man well acquainted with the cliffs could descend to the sea, and such an acquaintanceship was not likely to be made by the wretched men marched out, fettered and guarded, to the great quarries day after day, and then carefully watched back to their cells. At times the sentinel duty outside the building could easily be relaxed on the sea side, for the billows came thundering in, smiting the polished rocks and flying high in air with a deafening din; but on a calm, warm, dark night, when it was possible for a boat to approach close in, a stricter watch was kept, lest one of the more hardened prisoners should contrive to elude the vigilance within the buildings and make a desperate effort to win his freedom. But, as a rule, attempts at evasion were made when the men were marched out to the quarries, when a dash would be made during a sea fog, or a convict would crawl into some hollow among the freshly hewn stones, and lie there, hoping not to be missed till he had made good his escape. On this particular night a young member of the warder guard stood, rifle on shoulder, looking out to sea from the mere shelf of level rock near the top of the cliff. A great steamer was making her way down channel, and her lights shone like stars away on the black waters. "West Indy or South America; and a Dutch boat, I should say," muttered the sentry; and he turned his eyes to where, well up under the shelter of the great promontory, the lights of several vessels showed where they lay at anchor. "This is a miserable dog's life," muttered the man, "and I get precious sick of it, but I think I'd rather be here than there. One can feel bottom and be safe--sailors can't. That one nighest in is the little man-o'-war, I suppose, and yon's the big one. How dark it is!" He stood there trying to pierce the blackness, out of which the anchor lights of the ships stood like stars, but he could see nothing save a faint bluish-greeny gleam now and then far below, where the phosphorescence of the sea washed gently, like so much luminous oil, over the bases of the cliffs and played among the masses of seaweed lying awash. "How unked the sea is of a dark night. Fancy going sailing right away yonder, not knowing what you may hit upon next. Shore's good enough for me, even if it's being at Foreland convict prison, with a day out now and then." He turned his face shoreward, looking across the bay, dotted with faint lights, to where the red lamps of the harbour shone out with their lurid glow. "That's better," he said as he followed the curve of the shore, with the faint golden gleam sent up by the gas lamps which dotted the bow like so many bright beads strung along the shore, on and on by the line of houses facing the sea front, till they ran out for a short distance to sea, and ended in quite a cluster, out of which flashed one with a bluish glare, whose rays cut the darkness, for it was the electric light at the end of the pier. "Band's playing," said the man, listening intently; but the distance across the curve to the town pier was too great, and he could make out nothing but a stray note of a cornet now and then. "Come, play up louder, old man; can't hear. Nothing like a bit of music now and then. That's one good in being a soldier: you do have a band, while we poor beggars have to carry a rifle without. But there, a man can drop this when he likes, and a soldier can't." He took a turn or two up and down, and stopped again to look up the steep cliff slope running high above him from the shelf on which his duty lay, this being over one of the spots where it would be possible for a daring cragsman to get down to the sea. "Shouldn't mind a glass of beer," he thought. "Salt in the air, I suppose. Well, I can get that by and by. Lord, what's a fellow got to grumble about? How would it be to do one's bit inside! Some of 'em pays pretty dear for their little games, and one can't help feeling sorry for one now and then. Bah! lot's of 'em are best there. They'd think no more of coming behind me in the dark and chucking me into the sea than kissing their hands. Ugh!" he ejaculated, with a shudder, as he gripped his piece more tightly, and gave a sharp glance; round and up above him at the black crags. "What a fool I am to think of such things, only a chap can't help it in such a lonesome place. Well, one side is safe," he muttered, with a half laugh. "So are the others, stupid poor devils! Not much chance for any of them coming out for a quiet pipe to-night." A faint note or two from the distant band on the pier, floated to the warder, and he went on musing: "Now, I dessay if I was over yonder having a smoke and listening to that music I should think nothing of it, and be for getting back somewhere to have a bit o' supper; but because I'm here and can't get near it every tootle of that old cornet sounds 'eavenly; and the lights seem grand. It was just the same down at home; there was our big old apple tree, the Gennet-Moyle, as I could get up when I liked, or knock as many down as I pleased with mother's clothes props--good apples they was, too; but they wouldn't do--one always wanted to get over Thompson's walls to smug those old hard baking pears, which was like nibbling the knobs off the top of the bedposts." He laughed until his shoulders shook. "Poor old Thompson!" he said half aloud. "Said he'd have some of us put in prison for stealing. Wonder whether some of these poor beggars began that way and then went on. Humph! maybe. Well, they should have known better." He continued his march up and down for a while, and then stopped once more, grounded his piece, and stood there quite invisible to anyone a few yards away. He went on thinking about the town at the head of the bay, and the music, and of how time was going; and then his thoughts went back to the great body of dangerous criminals shut up in the huge, grim buildings, and of how much depended on the care and diligence of those in charge--a mere handful compared to those they guarded. "Only we've got the law on our side and they haven't," he thought; and as the thought ran through his brain he felt the blood pulsate sharply and there was a heavy throb at his heart, for there was a peculiar sound away to his right, high up the steep slope of the cliff, as if a stone had been dislodged and had slipped down a few yards before stopping in a cleft. He stood listening intently, but the sound was not repeated--all was still as death; but the man's pulses had been stirred, and his heart beat in a manner that was painful. It was not that he was particularly wanting in courage, but, shut in there by the darkness, it was impossible to keep back the thought that a desperate man who had stolen out or hidden might be lurking close by ready to spring upon him in an unguarded moment, drive him off the cliff shelf which formed his beat, and all would be over in an instant. For a fall there meant death by drowning or the fearful crash on to the rocks below. "They shan't take me unawares," he thought, and then he hesitated as to whether he should give the alarm by firing his piece. In an instant he had raised it and his finger was on the trigger, but he did not make its flash cut the darkness for a moment and its report run re-echoing along the cliffs. "What for?" he said to himself; "bring the fellows here to laugh at me because I heard a rabbit on the move. I should never hear the last of it." He again grounded his piece, but very softly, and stood with his back to the sea, straining his eyes in the direction from whence the sound had come, but the stones that towered up were all blurred together into one black mass, and though he fancied several times over that he could make out the figure of a man half-hidden by some projection, he was fain to confess directly after that it was all fancy. "But fancy or not," he said to himself, "I don't mean to be taken on the grand hop,"--and he did not stir from his position where he stood on the very edge of the cliff shelf, but kept on glancing to right and left along the stone path, and sweeping the slope in front. Ten minutes passed like this--ten long-drawn intervals of time--and then the man threw up his rifle and stood ready, fully expecting an attack, certain now that there had been good reason for the dislodgement of the stone. For from high up on the top of one of the ranges of prison buildings a sound rang out which sent a thrill through the watcher's nerves. It was the alarm bell, which might mean the escape of prisoners or an attack from a deadly enemy; but it could not be the latter, for there was no reflection of a fire. "Now for it!" muttered the man, with his finger on the trigger, prepared for the rush of a man or men, and he thought over the formula he must utter before he fired. "I don't want to hurt anybody," he said softly, "but no one shall drive me over without getting something first. It's that Ratcliff Highway chap at his games again. I wish they'd hang him or send him somewhere else." And he thought of a warder who had been disabled for life, and another who was absent twelve months, both from injuries inflicted by a savage brute whom all the men feared. Another instant and all doubts were at an end, for there was a bright flash, and directly after the heavy, reverberating roar of a gun. "Sharp's the word!" said the man softly as, taught by training, his fingers involuntarily drew forth aloud clicking from the lock of the piece he held; and as he stood there, breathing hard, every nerve and muscle was on the strain, for he could hear steps coming rapidly in his direction, and they must pass him--there was no other way; and it meant a desperate attack made by men armed with hammers and bars, perhaps only stones, and on the warder's part duty and self defence. "Someone's number crossed out," he muttered fiercely, for there was no feeling of dread now. Then a change came over him as, with an intense feeling of satisfaction, he grasped the fact that the measured beat of feet was that of their more disciplined men. He challenged, and there was the reassuring response. "Anyone been this way?" cried a sergeant breathlessly as he halted four men. "No." "Three of 'em got out and half killed two warders. They came along here, we think." "Nobody been this way." "Keep a sharp lookout, then. We're going on. Challenge, of course, but if they don't stand let them have it. They won't spare you. Ready, there; we'll go on to the next post, and come back directly." "Stop!" said the sentry huskily; "I thought I heard a stone roll down from up yonder a few minutes ago." "They are there, then," cried the sergeant, "safe enough. Now, then," he shouted; "the game's up, my lads. Give in. No stones, or I'll give orders to fire. Ready, there; present!" There was a dead silence. "Nobody could get over the cliff here," growled one of the men. "Monkeys might, perhaps." "Silence!" cried the sergeant. "They must be there. Now, then, will you come down, or are we to pick you off?" "Hush! What's that?" The unmistakable rattling of stones and a scrambling sound as if someone had slipped. "Hah! that's good enough. Now, then, is it surrender?" Silence again, and the darkness in front blacker than ever. "You will have it, then," cried the sergeant. "One and four, a dozen paces right and left." The evolution was performed, and then with a man on each side of him the sergeant once more shouted to the convicts to give in. "Hi, look out!" roared one of the warders. "In the queen's name, surrend--" A dull, heavy blow, and a groan were heard almost together, cutting short the sergeant's challenge, for a heavy piece of rock struck him full in the face, while a couple more blocks whizzed by the others, to fall heavily far below where they stood. Simultaneously three dark figures bounded on to the edge and made at the little group. The attack was so sudden and direful in its results that the warders gave way right and left, while the convicts stooped, literally glided over the edge of the path, and began to descend the horribly steep cliff. "Don't keep together," cried a hoarse voice from below. "Every man for himself now." "Fire!" shouted one of the warders; and almost together three rifles flashed out their contents, followed by a derisive laugh. Then the warder who had been ordered off to the right fired, and as the shot echoed along the cliff there was a terrible cry, followed by a rush as of something falling. "Now, then, surrender!" cried one of the warders, who was reloading rapidly, just as rapid steps were heard coming along the path. "Where are they?" shouted an authoritative voice as ten or a dozen more men were now halted on the shelf-like path. "Right below here, sir. One of 'em down." "Halt, there! Do you hear, men? Surrender at once; you can't escape." No reply, but those above could hear the scuffling noise of those descending and the rattle of a heavy stone, followed by a dull plunge. "Your blood be on your own heads, then," said the officer who had now come up. "Once more: in the queen's name, surrender!" No answer, but the hurried rustle of the descending fugitives. Sharp orders were given, and then came the fatal word: "Fire!" Several rifles rattled out their deadly challenge now, and as the warders peered over into the darkness, up through the heavy smoke came a peculiar snarl, more like the cry of a savage beast than the utterance of a human throat, while directly after, sending a thrill of horror through the men who were looking down, there was the sound of the heavy plunge as of something falling from a great height into the sea. Then silence, save that the heavy breathing of the warders was audible as they listened for the cry, "Help!" which they expected to hear from the water when the wounded man rose to the surface, not one of the guard daring in his own mind to think upon either of the shots fired as being fatal. At that moment there was a flash from off the sea a quarter of a mile away, and a few moments later another glare, both sending a brilliant path of light across the smooth water. And now, plainly seen in the midst of a bluish halo on the black night, there stood out the rigging and hull of a ship, with figures moving here and there; two boats were lowered down, and directly after the water flashed and sparkled as oars were dipped, and the man-of-war cutters, with their armed crews, were rowed in toward the rocks. By this time there were fresh arrivals on the cliff path, the firing having drawn there men bearing lanterns, and the officer in charge shouted: "Got them?" "No, sir," said the first officer respectfully. "Sergeant Liss is down badly hurt with a stone, and Raddon's shoulder is hurt." "But the prisoners, man?" cried the newcomer, evidently one high in authority. "I'm afraid, sir--" "The prisoners?" "Below here somewhere, sir--two of them." "Yes, and the other?" "We were obliged to fire, sir, and there was a cry, and we heard one fall into the sea." _ |
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