The Second G.A. Henty

by G. A. Henty

  “But if I cannot find that out, monsieur; if there is no arrangement made at all—though I should think there would be, for the butchers will like to have everything done in order—”

  “Then I will get you to find a dozen men you can trust to volunteer to row the boats to put them on board. And you must be sure to take the boat in which they are to the lugger we have prepared.”

  “I will try,” Adolphe said, “though I would rather cut off my hand than pull an oar to take these poor creatures out to be murdered. But I will do it, monsieur. But except for that I warrant me they will not get a sailor in Nantes to put his hand to an oar to aid their accursed work.”

  It was four o’clock when they arrived at Nantes. Adolphe went straight to the prison, while Harry walked along the quay. When he came abreast the centre of the town a number of sailors and fishermen were standing talking in low tones, and looking with horror at four luggers moored in a line in the centre of the river. A number of men drawn from the scum of the town were painting them white, while a strong body of troops were drawn up on the quay in readiness to put a summary stop to any demonstration of hostility on the part of the sailors. These did not indeed venture to express openly their detestation of the proceedings, but the muttered execrations and curses that rose from the little group showed how deep were their feelings.

  Harry joined a little knot of three or four men who had been, with Adolphe, in the habit of greeting him when he landed.

  “All is lost, you see!” one of them said in a tone of deep commiseration. “There is nothing left but vengeance—we will take that one of these days—but that is a poor consolation for you now.”

  “All is not quite lost,” Harry said. “I have yet one hope.”

  “We dare not try force,” one of the other men said. “They have marched three more regiments of Reds in to-day. What can we do against them without arms? I could cry to think that we are so helpless in the face of these things.”

  “No; I know force is useless,” Harry said. “Still I have just one hope left. It is a desperate one, and I cannot tell you what it is now; but to-night, maybe, Adolphe may ask you to help us. I expect him here soon.”

  In half an hour Adolphe returned, and Harry at once joined him.

  “I have got the news I wanted,” he said. “Mesdemoiselles are to be in the first batch brought out. Boats have already been bought by the Reds to row them out, and men hired. They were forced to buy the boats, for not a man would let his craft for such a purpose. It would be accursed ever afterwards, no sailor would ever put a foot on board. The first boats will go to the ship lying lowest in the stream; then they will come back and take the next batch out to the vessel next above; and so until all are on board. There will be fifty placed on board each lugger; and I hear, monsieur, that is only the first of it, and that the drownings will go on until the prisons are cleared.”

  “Thank God we know that much, Adolphe! Now, in the first place, I want you to get me some tools—a sharp saw, a chisel, a large screw-driver, and half a dozen large screws; also, two beams of wood to fasten across the hatchway and keep the boards up after I have sawn through them; also, I want three bundles of cork—flat pieces will be the best if you can get them, but that doesn’t matter much. I may as well have an auger too. When you go back to your house will you go in next door and ask our landlady, Mere Leflo—”

  “She died three days ago,” the man said.

  “Then go into the house without asking, and in the farthest corner to the right-hand side of the kitchen scratch away the earth, and you will find a little bag of money. If I fail to-morrow, keep it for yourself; if I succeed, bring it to me at Pierre’s. When does your lugger sail for England?”

  “In three days, monsieur. I have already sounded the captain, and I think he will take you. And what shall I do next?”

  “At nine o’clock this evening have a boat with the things on board half a mile below the town. Give a low whistle, and I will answer it. Wrap some flannel round the rowlocks to muffle the sound. It will be a dark night, and there’s a mist rising already from the river. I do not think there’s much chance of our meeting any boats near those vessels.”

  “No, indeed,” Adolphe agreed. “It makes me shiver to look at them. There will be no boat out on the river to-night except ours. Will you not come home with me, monsieur, until it is time to start? You will need supper, for you must keep up your strength.”

  Harry accepted the sailor’s invitation; and after partaking of a meal with Adolphe and his wife, who was informed of the attempt which was about to be made, he sat looking quietly into the fire, arranging in his mind all the details of the enterprise, uttering many a silent but fervent prayer that he might be permitted to save the lives of the two girls.

  Adolphe went in and out making his preparations. At half-past eight he said, touching Harry on the shoulder: “It is time to start, monsieur. I have got the bag of money. Everything is in the boat, and I saw the men start with it. It is time for us to go and meet them.”

  Marthe burst into tears as she said good-bye to Harry.

  “I shall spend all night on my knees,” she said, “praying God and the Holy Virgin to aid you and save those dear angels. Here is a packet, monsieur, with some food for you to eat in the morning, and a bottle of good wine. You will want strength for your adventure.”

  Three or four minutes after Harry and Adolphe had gained the appointed spot they heard a low whistle on the water. Adolphe whistled in return, and in another minute a dark object appeared through the mist. They took their places in the stern, and the boat rowed quietly off again. So well were the oars muffled that Harry could hear no sound save an almost imperceptible splash each time they dipped into the water.

  The town was very still and scarce a sound was heard. The awe of the horrible event which was about to take place hung over the town, and although there was drinking and exultations among the ruffians in the back lanes, even these instinctively avoided the neighbourhood of the river.

  So thick was the fog that they were some little time before they found the white luggers. When they did so they rowed to that moored lowest down the stream and made fast alongside. Noiselessly the tools and beams were handed on board. Then Harry said:

  “That is all, Adolphe.”

  “Not at all, monsieur. We are not going to leave you till the work is done. We have settled that four sets of hands can work better than one, and besides, we may hit on some idea. No one can say.”

  Finding it useless to remonstrate, Harry let the good fellows have their way. The men had already removed their boots, and noiselessly made their way to the hatch of the forecastle.

  “Ah, it is just as well I brought a file with me,” Adolphe said in a low voice, as he knelt down and felt the hatch. “It is fastened down with a staple and padlock. They are old, but you might have some trouble in breaking them. But let us see first. No, it moves. Now, a wrench all together.”

  As he spoke the staple came up through the rotten wood of the deck. The hatch was then lifted.

  “Lower it down corner-ways into the fo’castle,” Adolphe said. “We can work all the better at it there. Jacques, do you get that sail up out of the boat and throw it over the hatch. It isn’t likely anyone will come out here through the fog; but it’s just as well not to run any risk.”

  As soon as all were below, and the sail spread over the opening above, Adolphe produced a dark lantern from the great pocket of his fisherman’s cloak, together with two or three candles. These were lit at the lantern, and the party then set to work.

  Two saws had been brought on board, and a piece three feet square was cut out of the top of the hatch, leaving six inches of wood all round. Great pains were taken not to saw through the tarpaulin cover.

  “Now, the next thing to do,” Harry said, “is to fix the beams so as to hold the wood in its place again.” Four pieces of wood, each three inches long, were screwed against the combing of the hatchway in such a position that w
hen the beams were placed upon them they were exactly level with the top, and supported the piece cut out from the hatchway in its original position.

  “That will do rarely,” Adolphe said, when it was finished and the hatchway experimentally placed in its position. “Now, all you have to do is just to knock the ends of the beams off their ledges. The bit we have cut out will fall down, and you will be able easily enough to lift the hatchway from its place. It is no great weight now.

  “It will do capitally,” Harry agreed, “and when it floats the tarpaulin will certainly be three inches above the water. Yes, I have no fear of that part of the adventure going wrong. You don’t think that it will be noticed from the shore, Adolphe?”

  “Not it,” Adolphe answered confidently. “Why, from the shore it will look awash with the water. No one will ever dream that there could be a soul alive underneath it. I begin to think you will do it, monsieur. At first it seemed hopeless. Now I really do think there is a chance. I should feel pretty confident if it was you and two of us who had to do it; but the difficulty will be to get the young ladies under it, and then to get them to lie quiet there.”

  “That is the difficulty,” Harry admitted. “I am sure of the eldest. Her nerves are as good as mine; what I fear is about the younger.”

  “I’ll tell you what, monsieur,” one of the other men said; “if you take my advice you will have a piece of rope in readiness and tie it round her arms so as to prevent her struggling.”

  “That would be the best way,” Harry agreed. “Yes, if I see she won’t be calm and do as I tell her, that is what I will do.”

  “Now, monsieur, I will bore a couple of auger-holes through the bulkhead here so that you can see what is going on in the hold. They have got the hatch off there. I suppose it wasn’t padlocked, and they will no doubt go down to bore the holes the last thing. Like enough they have bored them already, and will only have to knock out the plugs. I will just go and see anyhow. If that is so you may set your mind at rest that none of them will come down here in the morning.”

  So saying, taking the dark lantern he climbed up on deck, and descended the hold.

  “That’s it,” he said when he returned; “there are six holes bored with plugs in them, so they won’t be coming down here. When we go up we will put the staple into its hole again, so that it will look all right. Now, monsieur, we will just have one nip of brandy apiece out of this bottle, and then we will be off. It’s just gone midnight, and it were best we should leave you to sleep for a few hours. You will want your strength in the morning, unless, of course, you would rather we stopped with you for a bit.”

  “No, thank you, Adolphe, I don’t think I shall sleep; I shall sit and think out every detail.”

  “Then good night, monsieur. May the good God bless you and aid you to-morrow, and I think he will! I do think you are the bravest man I ever met.”

  “I am not brave for myself, Adolphe, but for them.”

  The three men shook hands with Harry, and one after another in husky voices gave him their good wishes. Then they ascended to the deck, put on the hatch, pressed the staple down through its holes in the deck, got into the boat, cast off the head-rope, and got out the oars.

  “Mon Dieu, what courage!” one of them exclaimed. “His hand is as steady, and his voice as firm as if he were going fishing to-morrow.”

  “I think he will succeed;” Adolphe said, “anyhow, we will have our boat out below the bend of the river, and lend a hand to Pierre to get them out.”

  CHAPTER XIV

  The Noyades

  When left alone Harry blew out the other candles, but left that in the lantern burning, and threw himself down on the locker and thought over every detail of the work for the next day. As he had said, the great danger was of Virginie struggling and being too frightened to follow his instructions. Certainly he could fasten a rope round her, but even then it might be difficult to manage her. The next danger was, that other persons might cling to the hatchway. Harry felt the long knife which was concealed in his breast.

  “God grant I may not have to use it!” he said. “But, if it must be, I shall not hesitate. They would simply destroy us without saving themselves, that is certain; therefore, I am justified in defending the girls, as I would against any other enemy.”

  He knelt down and prayed for some time. Then he replaced the piece they had cut out from the hatch, and fixed the beams beneath it, and then lay down again. He was worn out by the excitement of the day, and in spite of his anxiety about the morrow he presently fell off to sleep.

  It was long before he woke. When he did so, he looked through one of the auger-holes into the hold and saw the light streaming down the open hatchway, and could tell that the sun was already up.

  He ate the food which Marthe had put into his pocket just as he was starting; saw that the bundles of corks were ready at hand, and the ropes attached to them so placed that they could be fastened on in an instant. Then there was nothing to do but to wait. The time passed slowly. Presently he heard the sound of drums and bugles, and knew that the troops were taking up their positions on the quays. At last—it seemed many hours to him—he heard the splash of oars, and presently a slight shock as a boat ran alongside the lugger. Then there were voices, and the sound of feet above as persons mounted on to the deck. There was a scraping noise by the lugger’s side, and immediately afterwards another bump as the second boat took the place of the first.

  This, as far as Harry could hear, did not leave the lugger. There was a great hum of talking on deck, principally in women’s voices, and frequently persons stepped on the hatch, and Harry congratulated himself that the beams gave a solid support to it.

  Half an hour passed, as well as Harry could judge, then the boom of a cannon was heard, and immediately two men leapt down into the hold, knocked the six plugs out of their place, and climbed up on deck again. There was again the scraping noise, and Harry knew the boat had pushed off this time for good. He watched as if fascinated the six jets of water for a minute or two. Then, saying to himself, “It is time,” he knocked the beams from their ledges, allowed the square of wood to fall, lifted the hatch, and pushed it off its combing, and then clambered on to the deck with the corks and ropes. There were some fifty persons on board, for the most part women and children, but with two or three men among them. They were gathered near the stern, and were apparently watching the scene ashore with astonishment. He hurried aft, having no fear that at this distance from the shore his figure would be recognized from the rest, and, if it were, it mattered not. Two or three turned round as the supposed sailor came aft, exclaiming:

  “What does this mean? Why are we put here on board these white ships? What are they going to do with us?”

  “Alas, ladies,” he said, “they have put you here to die; they have bored holes in the ships’ bottoms, and in a few minutes they will sink. It is a wholesale execution.”

  As he began to speak one of the ladies in the stern pushed her way through the rest.

  “Oh, Harry, is it you!” she exclaimed as he finished. “Is it true, are we to die together?”

  “We are in God’s hands, Jeanne, but there is hope yet. Bring Virginie forward with me.”

  At Harry’s first words a panic had seized all around; one or two ran to the hatchway and looked down into the hold, and screamed out that the water was rushing in; then some cried to the distant crowd to send to save them; others ran up and down as if demented; while some threw themselves on their knees. But the panic soon passed away; all had for weeks looked death in the face, and though the unexpected form in which it appeared had for the moment shaken them, they soon recovered. Mothers clasped their daughters to their breasts for a last farewell, and then all with bowed heads kneeled and listened in silence to an old man who began to pray aloud.

  Jeanne, without another word, had taken Virginie’s hands and accompanied Harry forward to the fore part of the deck.

  “Jeanne, I am going to try to save you and Vir
ginie, but everything depends upon your being cool and brave. I need not urge you, because I am sure of you. Virginie, will you try to be so for Jeanne’s sake and your own? If you do not we must all die together.”

  “What are we to do, Harry?” Jeanne said steadily, while Virginie clung to her sister sobbing bitterly.

  “Fasten this bundle of corks between Virginie’s shoulders high up-yes, there.”

  While Jeanne was doing this, Harry fastened a rope to a ring in the side of the hatch, then he tied the corks on to Jeanne’s shoulders, and adjusted the third bundle to his own. “Now, Jeanne,” he said, “I will tell you what we are going to do. You see this hatch; when the vessel sinks it will float, and we must float on our backs with our faces underneath it so that it will hide us from the sight of the wretches on shore; and even if they put out in boats to kill any who may be swimming or clinging to spars, they will not suspect that there is anyone under this. We may not succeed; an accident may betray us, but there is a possibility. At anyrate, dear, we shall live or die together.”

  “I am content,” Jeanne said quietly.

  “You know, Jeanne,” Harry said, putting his hands on the girl’s shoulders, “that I love you; I should never have told you so until I got you home if it hadn’t been for this; but though I have never said it, you know I love you.”

  “I know, Harry, and I love you too with all my heart; so much that I can feel almost happy that we are going to die together. We are affianced now, dear, come what will.” And she lifted her face to his.

  He gave her one long kiss, then there was a crash. Impatient at the length of time the vessels were in sinking, those ashore had opened fire with cannons upon them, and the shot had struck the lugger just above the water.

  With a little cry Virginie fell senseless on the deck.