Part 21 (1/2)
”Let go my bridle,” answered Digby, trying to free himself. ”I am Mr Heathcote's son, if you wish to know.”
”Ho, ho! are you, indeed, youngster?” said one of the men. ”We are in luck, then. I say, though, you are not going home just now. Come along with us.”
”Along with you! Indeed I will not,” answered Digby, with very natural indignation.
”Ho, ho, my c.o.c.k of the woods, don't crow so loudly, or we may have to squeeze your windpipe,” exclaimed another of the ruffians coming up.
All Digby's spirit was raised. He struck out right and left with his whip, and endeavoured to force his pony out from among them. In vain were his efforts. He, however, struck the ruffian who held the reins so severe a blow across the eyes that the man let them go, and he might have escaped, had not, at the same moment, two other fellows seized him by the collar of his jacket, and he was dragged to the ground. The pony, finding his head free, sprang forward, and before either of the men could catch him, had galloped far beyond their reach, though one of the most active ran on in the hope of catching it. Digby in the scuffle, while bravely trying to escape, let go his whip, which fell to the ground unperceived by his captors. Few other words were spoken.
They dragged him rapidly along the road they had come, which led past Dame Marlow's cottage. One of them threatened to blow out his brains if he made the slightest noise, and suspecting that they might put their threat into execution, he refrained from crying out. Still, as he went along, he was considering all the time how he could effect his escape.
He counted eight or ten men in the party who had got hold of him. When they arrived at Mile-End gravel-pits, they turned off and took the path to Dame Marlow's cottage. They seemed to be expected there. When they entered, the old woman was leaning over the fire, stirring a large caldron boiling on it. As the bright light fell on her thin, sharp features, and her long, bony arm, almost bare, was stretched out grasping the ladle, with her red cloak thrown over one shoulder, her long, straggling hair, and her fantastic dress, she looked, indeed, like one of the witches Digby had read of, and he could not help feeling that the outrage of which he was the victim, was a just retribution for the trick he had once played here--a retribution probably brought about by her machinations.
”We've caught the young bird sooner than we expected, Dame,” said one of the men. ”But, we've more work on hand to-night. We'll leave him with you and d.i.c.k Owlett till we come back. Take care that he doesn't fly off.”
Master d.i.c.k Owlett, who had hitherto kept in the background, now made his appearance. He had grown so much stouter and bigger since Digby saw him last at Osberton, that dressed as he was, in a rough seaman's costume, he could scarcely have recognised him.
Digby knew that he had been sent off to sea, but he learned, from his conversation with the old woman, that he had deserted and found his way back to his old haunts.
One of the men placed a bench near the fire. ”Sit down there, youngster,” he said. ”Mind you don't stir till we come back. d.i.c.k, keep an eye on him.”
d.i.c.k Owlett scowled at Digby, and drawing a pistol from his coat-pocket, sat himself down at the other end of the bench, eyeing him as a bull-terrier does his master's bundle he has been placed to watch. The rest of the men then hurried out, leaving only old Marlow, who lay groaning on a bed at the further end of the cottage, the Dame, and Owlett watching Digby.
When the men were gone, the Dame came and placed herself before Digby, eyeing him with a very sinister glance. ”So, young Squire,” she hissed out, ”the old Squire will learn that the poor can love their children as much as the rich. He sent my boy across the sea with the help of the law, and never will he come back to gladden his old grandmother's eyes; and now I'm going to send his son far away, and may be he'll never come back to brighten Bloxholme Hall with his smiles and his laughter.
Revenge is sweet, and there are many to-night who find it so, and there are some who will find it bitter, too.”
Digby heard these words, but scarcely comprehended their full meaning, or was aware of the very terrible misfortune threatening him. He sat still for some time, while the old woman's words were ringing in his ears. ”I don't much fear her threats, and I ought to be ashamed of myself in allowing the old woman, and that young rascal, not so many years older than I am, to keep me a prisoner,” he thought. ”I'll break away from them.” He sprung up to rush to the door, but before he had moved further, the click of the pistol-lock struck his ear.
”I'll fire,” exclaimed Owlett, with a dreadful oath. ”I'm not going to be informed against, and sent off to prison for this night's work.”
”Young Squire, he'll kill thee,” cried the old woman, placing her long, skinny hands on his shoulder, and forcing him down to his seat with a strength he could not resist.
He was too indignant to expostulate, but he eyed d.i.c.k Owlett, and considered whether he could compete with him in a tussle, and wrest the pistol from his hands. Then he recollected that if he made the attempt, he should have the old woman attacking him in the rear with her sharp, talon-like fingers. Whenever she moved, he felt that the Dame's keen eye was upon him. Even while preparing the supper for her guests, and stirring the caldron, her glance was constantly turned towards him.
Then, also, Owlett had his finger on the lock, and the muzzle of the pistol pointed at his breast. A full-grown man might have felt very uncomfortable under such circ.u.mstances, so, considering that Owlett might possibly put his threat into execution, much against his will he sat still.
A long time seemed to pa.s.s, and then, at length, the band of ruffians came back. From their appearance and conversation Digby supposed them to be smugglers. They seemed highly delighted with their performances that evening; and having hurriedly discussed their supper, they declared that they must be off without further delay.
Digby now thought it was time to speak out.
”What is it you want with me?” he asked. ”I wish to return home.”
”That's what you will be crying out for many a day, youngster,” answered one of the men. ”No, no, you'll go along with us.”
In vain Digby expostulated, and threatened, and at last entreated his captors to let him return home. They only laughed and sneered at him.
Had he himself only been the sufferer, he felt that he would not have condescended to use any arguments but threats with such ruffians; but he knew the misery his disappearance would cause his parents and sisters.
”Poor dear little Kate; how she will cry about me,” he said to himself; and he thought again and again how he could get away.
The men b.u.t.toned up their coats, slipped a rough pea-jacket over his shoulders, and put a tarpaulin hat on his head, which they tied down so that he could not throw it off.
”Gag him,” said one of them; and he found a handkerchief pa.s.sed tightly over his mouth, effectually preventing him from crying out. Two of them then took him by the arms between them, and, nodding to Dame Marlow, went out. She merely cast one very unpleasant glance at him, but said nothing. The whole party followed, and walked along the road at a rapid rate, every now and then looking behind them as if they expected to be pursued. In about twenty minutes they reached a low public-house, well known as the resort of smugglers and other bad characters. Two carts were standing before the door; jumping into them, without entering the house, they drove on at a rapid rate. Digby looked up at the sky, which was beautifully clear. Mr Nugent constantly gave his pupils lessons in practical astronomy, and Digby was therefore able to discover that they were driving towards the sea. They kept, however, considerably to the west of Osberton. At last they reached the edge of a cliff; before him lay spread out the ocean, now sleeping in calm grandeur. The men roughly pulled him out of the cart, and two of them taking him as before, between them, made him descend a narrow zig-zag path down the face of the cliff. Down, down they went, till they reached a small curving beach, the high cliffs towering above it, and without any communication with the other part of the sh.o.r.e. A boat lay there; she was quickly launched, and the men, getting in, took Digby with them.