by John Buchan
CHAPTER XIII
THE COMING OF THE DANISH BRIG
Mr. John Heritage, solitary in the old Tower, found much to occupy hismind. His giddiness was passing, though the dregs of a headacheremained, and his spirits rose with his responsibilities. At daybreak hebreakfasted out of the Mearns Street provision box, and made tea in oneof the Die-Hards' camp kettles. Next he gave some attention to histoilet, necessary after the rough-and-tumble of the night. He made shiftto bathe in icy water from the Tower well, shaved, tidied up his clothesand found a clean shirt from his pack. He carefully brushed his hair,reminding himself that thus had the Spartans done before Thermopylae. Theneat and somewhat pallid young man that emerged from these rites thenascended to the first floor to reconnoitre the landscape from the narrowunglazed windows.
If any one had told him a week ago that he would be in so strange aworld he would have quarrelled violently with his informant. A week agohe was a cynical clear-sighted modern, a contemner of illusions, aswallower of formulas, a breaker of shams--one who had seen through theheroical and found it silly. Romance and such-like toys were playthingsfor fatted middle-age, not for strenuous and cold-eyed youth. But thetruth was that now he was altogether spellbound by these toys. To thinkthat he was serving his lady was rapture--ecstasy, that for her he wassingle-handed venturing all. He rejoiced to be alone with his privatefancies. His one fear was that the part he had cast himself for shouldbe needless, that the men from the sea should not come, or thatreinforcements would arrive before he should be called upon. He hopedalone to make a stand against thousands. What the upshot might be he didnot trouble to inquire. Of course the Princess would be saved, but firsthe must glut his appetite for the heroic.
He made a diary of events that day, just as he used to do at the front.At twenty minutes past eight he saw the first figure coming from theHouse. It was Spidel, who limped round the Tower, tried the door, andcame to a halt below the window. Heritage stuck out his head and wishedhim good morning, getting in reply an amazed stare. The man was notdisposed to talk, though Heritage made some interesting observations onthe weather, but departed quicker than he came, in the direction of theWest Lodge.
Just before nine o'clock he returned with Dobson and Leon. They made avery complete reconnaissance of the Tower, and for a moment Heritagethought that they were about to try to force an entrance. They tuggedand hammered at the great oak door, which he had further strengthened byerecting behind it a pile of the heaviest lumber he could find in theplace. It was imperative that they should not get in, and he gotDickson's pistol ready with the firm intention of shooting them ifnecessary. But they did nothing, except to hold a conference in thehazel clump a hundred yards to the north, when Dobson seemed to belaying down the law, and Leon spoke rapidly with a great fluttering ofhands. They were obviously puzzled by the sight of Heritage, whom theybelieved to have left the neighbourhood. Then Dobson went off, leavingLeon and Spidel on guard, one at the edge of the shrubberies between theTower and the House, the other on the side nearest the Laver glen. Thesewere their posts, but they did sentry-go around the building, and passedso close to Heritage's window that he could have tossed a cigarette ontheir heads.
It occurred to him that he ought to get busy with camouflage. They mustbe convinced that the Princess was in the place, for he wanted theirwhole mind to be devoted to the siege. He rummaged among the ladies'baggage, and extracted a skirt and a coloured scarf. The latter hemanaged to flutter so that it could be seen at the window the next timeone of the watchers came within sight. He also fixed up the skirt sothat the fringe of it could be seen, and, when Leon appeared below, hewas in the shadow talking rapid French in a very fair imitation of thetones of Cousin Eugenie. The ruse had its effect, for Leon promptly wentoff to tell Spidel, and when Dobson appeared he too was given the news.This seemed to settle their plans, for all three remained on guard,Dobson nearest to the Tower, seated on an outcrop of rock with hismackintosh collar turned up, and his eyes usually turned to the mistysea.
By this time it was eleven o'clock, and the next three hours passedslowly with Heritage. He fell to picturing the fortunes of his friends.Dickson and the Princess should by this time be far inland, out ofdanger and in the way of finding succour. He was confident that theywould return, but he trusted not too soon, for he hoped for a run forhis money as Horatius in the Gate. After that he was a little torn inhis mind. He wanted the Princess to come back and to be somewhere nearif there was a fight going, so that she might be a witness of hisdevotion. But she must not herself run any risk, and he became anxiouswhen he remembered her terrible sangfroid. Dickson could no morerestrain her than a child could hold a greyhound.... But of course itwould never come to that. The police would turn up long before the brigappeared--Dougal had thought that would not be till high tide, betweenfour and five--and the only danger would be to the pirates. The threewatchers would be put in the bag, and the men from the sea would walkinto a neat trap. This reflection seemed to take all the colour out ofHeritage's prospect. Peril and heroism were not to be his lot--onlyboredom.
A little after twelve two of the tinklers appeared with some news whichmade Dobson laugh and pat them on the shoulder. He seemed to be givingthem directions, pointing seaward and southward. He nodded to the Tower,where Heritage took the opportunity of again fluttering Saskia's scarfathwart the window. The tinklers departed at a trot, and Dobson lit hispipe as if well pleased. He had some trouble with it in the wind, whichhad risen to an uncanny violence. Even the solid Tower rocked with it,and the sea was a waste of spindrift and low scurrying cloud. Heritagediscovered a new anxiety--this time about the possibility of the briglanding at all. He wanted a complete bag, and it would be tragic if theygot only the three seedy ruffians now circumambulating his fortress.
About one o'clock he was greatly cheered by the sight of Dougal. At themoment Dobson was lunching off a hunk of bread and cheese directlybetween the Tower and the House, just short of the crest of the ridge onthe other side of which lay the stables and the shrubberies; Leon was onthe north side opposite the Tower door, and Spidel was at the south endnear the edge of the Garple glen. Heritage, watching the ridge behindDobson and the upper windows of the House which appeared over it, saw onthe very crest something like a tuft of rusty bracken which he had notnoticed before. Presently the tuft moved, and a hand shot up from itwaving a rag of some sort. Dobson at the moment was engaged with abottle of porter, and Heritage could safely wave a hand in reply. Hecould now make out clearly the red head of Dougal.
The Chieftain, having located the three watchers, proceeded to give anexhibition of his prowess for the benefit of the lonely inmate of theTower. Using as cover a drift of bracken, he wormed his way down tillhe was not six yards from Dobson, and Heritage had the privilege ofseeing his grinning countenance a very little way above the innkeeper'shead. Then he crawled back and reached the neighbourhood of Leon, whowas sitting on a fallen Scotch fir. At that moment it occurred to theBelgian to visit Dobson. Heritage's breath stopped, but Dougal wasready, and froze into a motionless blur in the shadow of a hazel bush.Then he crawled very fast into the hollow where Leon had been sitting,seized something which looked like a bottle, and scrambled back to theridge. At the top he waved the object, whatever it was, but Heritagecould not reply, for Dobson happened to be looking towards the window.That was the last he saw of the Chieftain, but presently he realisedwhat was the booty he had annexed. It must be Leon's life-preserver,which the night before had broken Heritage's head.
After that cheering episode boredom again set in. He collected some foodfrom the Mearns Street box, and indulged himself with a glass of liqueurbrandy. He was beginning to feel miserably cold, so he carried up somebroken wood and made a fire on the immense hearth in the upper chamber.Anxiety was clouding his mind again, for it was now two o'clock, andthere was no sign of the reinforcements which Dickson and the Princesshad gone to find. The minutes passed, and soon it was three o'clock, andfrom the window he saw only the top of the gaunt shuttered Hou
se, nowand then hidden by squalls of sleet, and Dobson squatted like anEskimo, and trees dancing like a witch-wood in the gale. All the vigourof the morning seemed to have gone out of his blood; he felt lonely andapprehensive and puzzled. He wished he had Dickson beside him, for thatlittle man's cheerful voice and complacent triviality would be acomfort.... Also, he was abominably cold. He put on his waterproof, andturned his attention to the fire. It needed re-kindling, and he huntedin his pockets for paper, finding only the slim volume lettered_Whorls_.
I set it down as the most significant commentary on his state of mind.He regarded the book with intense disfavour, tore it in two, and used ahandful of its fine deckle-edged leaves to get the fire going. Theyburned well, and presently the rest followed. Well for Dickson's peaceof mind that he was not a witness of such vandalism.
A little warmer but in no way more cheerful, he resumed his watch nearthe window. The day was getting darker, and promised an early dusk. Hiswatch told him that it was after four, and still nothing had happened.Where on earth were Dickson and the Princess? Where in the name of allthat was holy were the police? Any minute now the brig might arrive andland its men, and he would be left there as a burnt-offering to theirwrath. There must have been an infernal muddle somewhere.... Anyhow thePrincess was out of the trouble, but where the Lord alone knew....Perhaps the reinforcements were lying in wait for the boats at theGarplefoot. That struck him as a likely explanation, and comforted him.Very soon he might hear the sound of an engagement to the south, and thenext thing would be Dobson and his crew in flight. He was determined tobe in the show somehow and would be very close on their heels. He felt apeculiar dislike to all three, but especially to Leon. The Belgian'ssmall baby features had for four days set him clenching his fists whenhe thought of them.
The next thing he saw was one of the tinklers running hard towards theTower. He cried something to Dobson, which Heritage could not catch, butwhich woke the latter to activity. The innkeeper shouted to Leon andSpidel, and the tinkler was excitedly questioned. Dobson laughed andslapped his thigh. He gave orders to the others, and himself joined thetinkler and hurried off in the direction of the Garplefoot. Somethingwas happening there, something of ill omen, for the man's face andmanner had been triumphant. Were the boats landing?
As Heritage puzzled over this event, another figure appeared on thescene. It was a big man in knickerbockers and mackintosh, who came roundthe end of the House from the direction of the South Lodge. At first hethought it was the advance-guard from his own side, the help whichDickson had gone to find, and he only restrained himself in time fromshouting a welcome. But surely their supports would not advance soconfidently in enemy country. The man strode over the slopes as iflooking for somebody; then he caught sight of Leon and waved him tocome. Leon must have known him, for he hastened to obey.
The two were about thirty yards from Heritage's window. Leon was tellingsome story volubly, pointing now to the Tower and now towards the sea.The big man nodded as if satisfied. Heritage noted that his right armwas tied up, and that the mackintosh sleeve was empty, and that broughthim enlightenment. It was Loudon the factor, whom Dickson had winged thenight before. The two of them passed out of view in the direction ofSpidel.
The sight awoke Heritage to the supreme unpleasantness of his position.He was utterly alone on the headland, and his allies had vanished intospace, while the enemy plans, moving like clock-work, were approachingtheir consummation. For a second he thought of leaving the Tower andhiding somewhere in the cliffs. He dismissed the notion unwillingly, forhe remembered the task that had been set him. He was there to hold thefort to the last--to gain time, though he could not for the life of himsee what use time was to be when all the strategy of his own side seemedto have miscarried. Anyhow, the blackguards would be sold for they wouldnot find the Princess. But he felt a horrid void in the pit of hisstomach, and a looseness about his knees.
The moments passed more quickly as he wrestled with his fears. The nexthe knew the empty space below his window was filling with figures. Therewas a great crowd of them, rough fellows with seamen's coats, stilldripping as if they had had a wet landing. Dobson was with them, butfor the rest they were strange figures.
Now that the expected had come at last Heritage's nerves grew calmer. Hemade out that the newcomers were trying the door, and he waited to hearit fall, for such a mob could soon force it. But instead a voice calledfrom beneath.
"Will you please open to us?" it said.
He stuck his head out and saw a little group with one man at the head ofit, a young man clad in oilskins whose face was dim in the murkyevening. The voice was that of a gentleman.
"I have orders to open to no one," Heritage replied.
"Then I fear we must force an entrance," said the voice.
"You can go to the devil," said Heritage.
That defiance was the screw which his nerves needed. His temper hadrisen, he had forgotten all about the Princess, he did not even rememberhis isolation. His job was to make a fight for it. He ran up thestaircase which led to the attics of the Tower, for he recollected thatthere was a window there which looked over the ground before the door.The place was ruinous, the floor filled with holes, and a part of theroof sagged down in a corner. The stones around the window were looseand crumbling and he managed to pull several out so that the slit wasenlarged. He found himself looking down on a crowd of men, who hadlifted the fallen tree on which Leon had perched, and were about to useit as a battering ram.
"The first fellow who comes within six yards of the door I shoot," heshouted.
There was a white wave below as every face was turned to him. He duckedback his head in time as a bullet chipped the side of the window.
But his position was a good one, for he had a hole in the broken wallthrough which he could see, and could shoot with his hand at the edge ofthe window while keeping his body in cover. The battering party resumedtheir task, and as the tree swung nearer, he fired at the foremost ofthem. He missed, but the shot for a moment suspended operations.
Again they came on, and again he fired. This time he damaged somebody,for the trunk was dropped.
A voice gave orders, a sharp authoritative voice. The battering squaddissolved, and there was a general withdrawal out of the line of firefrom the window. Was it possible that he had intimidated them? He couldhear the sound of voices, and then a single figure came into sightagain, holding something in its hand.
He did not fire, for he recognised the futility of his efforts. Thebaseball swing of the figure below could not be mistaken. There was aroar beneath, and a flash of fire, as the bomb exploded on the door.Then came a rush of men, and the Tower had fallen.
Heritage clambered through a hole in the roof and gained the topmostparapet. He had still a pocketful of cartridges, and there in a coign ofthe old battlements he would prove an ugly customer to the pursuit.Only one at a time could reach that siege perilous.... They would nottake long to search the lower rooms, and then would be hot on the trailof the man who had fooled them. He had not a scrap of fear left or evenof anger--only triumph at the thought of how properly those ruffians hadbeen sold. "Like schoolboys they who unaware"--instead of two women theyhad found a man with a gun. And the Princess was miles off and foreverbeyond their reach. When they had settled with him they would no doubtburn the House down, but that would serve them little. From his airypinnacle he could see the whole sea-front of Huntingtower, a blur in thedusk but for the ghostly eyes of its white-shuttered windows.
Something was coming from it, running lightly over the lawns, lost foran instant in the trees, and then appearing clear on the crest of theridge where some hours earlier Dougal had lain. With horror he saw thatit was a girl. She stood with the wind plucking at her skirts and hair,and she cried in a high, clear voice which pierced even the confusion ofthe gale. What she cried he could not tell for it was in a strangetongue....
But it reached the besiegers. There was a sudden silence in the dinbelow him and then a confusion of sh
outing. The men seemed to be pouringout of the gap which had been the doorway, and as he peered over theparapet first one and then another entered his area of vision. The girlon the ridge, as soon as she saw that she had attracted attention,turned and ran back, and after her up the slopes went the pursuitbunched like hounds on a good scent.
Mr. John Heritage, swearing terribly, started to retrace his steps.
