"Want any help? Oh, all right then!"
"Did you think you"d get out that way, youngster?" said Shackle, as the midshipman stood erect at the top of the rough stairs.
"I thought I"d try," said the lad stiffly.
"Took a lot o" trouble for nothing, boy," said the smuggler. "I come to see what was amiss, Ram, boy, you was so long. Don"t come again without Jemmy Dadd or some one."
"No, father."
"So you thought you"d get away, did you?" said the smuggler, with an ugly smile. "Ought to have known better, boy. You wouldn"t be kept here, if there was a way for you to escape."
Archy felt too much depressed to make any sharp reply, and the smuggler turned to his son.
"What"s the matter with you?"
"Bit of a tumble, father, that"s all," said the boy cheerfully, as he placed his hand to the back of his head.
"You should take care, then; rocks are harder than heads. Hi! You Jemmy Dadd!"
"Hullo!" came out of the darkness.
"Get Tom to help you to-morrow. Bring a bushel or two o" lime stuff, and stop up this hole, all but a bit big enough for a pigeon to go in and out. It"ll give him a taste o" light and air. Now, youngster, on with you. Show the lanthorn, Jemmy."
The man came forward, and Archy was made to follow him, the smuggler and his son coming on behind; and ten minutes later the prisoner was seated in his old place in the darkness, with Ram"s basket of provisions for consolation. As he sat there, listening to the departing footsteps, and feeling more and more that it was quite true,--escape must be impossible down the cliff, or else they would not have left him with the opening unguarded,--there was the dull, heavy report of the closing trap-door, and the rattle and snap of bolts, and that followed by the rumbling down of the pieces of stone.
He had pretty well thought out the correct theory of this noise, that it was on purpose to hide the trap-door from any prying eyes which might pa.s.s, and prying eyes must be few, he felt, or else the smugglers would not have had recourse to so clumsy a contrivance.
He thought all this over again, as he sat there wearied out and despondent, for in the morning his task had seemed as good as achieved, and now he was face to face with the fact, after all that labour, that it had been in vain, and he was more a prisoner than ever.
"Not quite so badly off as some, though," he thought, as, moved thereto by the terrible hunger he felt, he stretched out his hand for the basket. Not bread and water, but good tasty provisions, and--"What"s this in the bottle?" he asked himself, as he removed the cork.
It was good wholesome cider, and being seventeen, and growing fast, Archy forgot everything for the next half-hour in the enjoyment of a hearty meal.
An hour later, just as he was thinking of going to the opening to sit there and look out at the evening sky, he dropped off fast asleep, and was wakened by the coming of two of the smugglers, who busied themselves in the repairs of the broken wall.
CHAPTER TWENTY NINE.
That day Jemmy Dadd brought him his food, and the next day, and the next.
"What did it mean?" he asked himself. He could understand this man being the bearer while he was employed at the mason work; but when that was over, he felt puzzled at Ram not coming.
Then he began to wonder whether the boy was ill in consequence of his fall, and he longed to ask, but, as everything he said to Dadd was received in gloomy silence, he felt indisposed to question the man, and waited, patiently or impatiently, till there should be a change.
The change did come, Ram appearing the next day with the basket; but his father and several other men entered the quarry, and something was brought in--what he did not see.
Ram came up to him with his basket, but, just as he began speaking, Shackle called him away, and once more the prisoner was left alone.
He partook of his meal, feeling more dull and dispirited than ever, and a walk afterwards to the little opening, just big enough to allow of his arm being thrust in, afforded no relief. For he wanted, to talk to Ram about their adventures, and to try whether he could not win over the boy to help him to escape.
The next day arrived, and, as of old, Ram came, with Jemmy Dadd left at the door.
"He"s grumbling," said the boy, "about having to help watch over you."
"Then why not put an end to it?" cried Archy, eagerly dashing into the question next his heart, for his confinement now grew unbearable.
"How?"
"Help me to escape."
The boy laughed.
"Aren"t you going to ask me how I am?"
"No; why should I?"
""Cause you made me have that fall, and my head"s been trebble. I"ve been in bed three days."
"I am sorry for you," said Archy; "but I can only think of one thing-- how to get away."
"No good to think about that. Father won"t let you go; I asked him."
"You did, Ram?"
"Yes, I asked him--though you wouldn"t be friends and shake hands."
"What did he say?" cried Archy, ignoring the latter part of his gaoler"s remarks.
"Said I was a young fool, and he"d rope"s-end me if I talked any more such stuff."
The midshipman did not notice it, but there was a quiet and softened air in Ram"s behaviour toward him, and the boy seemed reluctant to go, but, in the midshipman"s natural desire to get away, he could think of nothing else but self.
"It would not be the act of a fool to set one of the officers of the Royal Navy at liberty."
"He says it would, for it would be the end of us all here. The sailors would come and pretty well turn us out of house and home. No; he won"t let you go."
"How long is he going to keep me here?"
"Don"t know. Long as he likes."
That last sentence seemed to drive the prisoner into a fit of anger, which lasted till the boy"s next coming.
The prisoner had been listening anxiously for the sound which betokened the visit of his young gaoler, and he was longing to have speech with him; but, telling himself that the boy was an enemy, he punished himself, as soon as the lanthorn came swaying through the darkness, by throwing himself down and turning away his head.
Ram came up and held the lanthorn over him.
"Morning. How are you?"