Commodore Junk. Fenn George Manville
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“Come back, then.”
“That’s what I’m a-trying to do, but this son of a sea-cook has got hold of me.”
“Open – in the King’s name!” came from the outer room; and then, just as Abel had seized an old sea-chest and was about to drag it before the door, there was a tremendous kick, the bolt was driven off, the door swung open, and the Dartmouth constable and a couple of men rushed forwards, and, in spite of Abel’s resistance, dragged him into the other room.
“Now, Dell, my lad,” said the head man, “I’ve got you at last.”
“So it seems,” said Abel, who stared hard at his sister as he spoke; while she stood with her hands clasped before her and a peculiarly rigid look on her face, staring wildly back.
“Smuggling and wrecking weren’t enough for you, eh?”
“What do you want here?” said Abel, giving his sister a final scowl and then facing the head constable.
“You, my lad – you,” said that individual, with a grin.
“What for?”
“Attempted murder and robbery on the king’s highway, my lad.”
“It’s a lie! Who says so?” cried Abel, setting his teeth and fixing his sister again with his dark eyes as she gave him an imploring look.
“Never mind who says so, my lad. Information’s laid all regular against you and Master Bart Wrigley. You’re both captured neatly. Here, how long are you going to be bringing forward the other?” cried the constable.
“We can’t get him out,” shouted a voice. “He’s stuck in the little window.”
“Pull him back, then, by his legs.”
“Been trying ever so long,” said another voice, “but he won’t come.”
“I’ll soon see to that,” said the constable, backing Abel into the little bed-room which was darkened by Bart’s body filling up the window. “Here, lay hold of his legs, two of you, and give a good jerk.”
Two men obeyed, but they did not give the jerk – Bart did that. Drawing in his legs like a grasshopper about to leap, he suddenly shot them out straight, when, though they did not alter his position where he was nipped in across the hips by the window-frame, they acted like catapults upon the two constables, who were driven backwards, the one into a chair, the other into a sitting position on the floor, to the great delight of those who looked on.
“Four of you,” said the head constable stolidly; “and hold on this time.”
The men obeyed, two going to each leg; and though Bart gave three or four vigorous kicks, his captors were not dislodged.
“Now,” said the head constable, as the kicking legs became quiescent, “all together!”
There was a sharp jerk, and Bart’s body was snatched out of the imprisoning frame so suddenly that five men went down on the floor together; while the first to rise was Bart, who kicked himself free, made for the door in spite of a pistol levelled by the head constable, and passed through.
“Come on, Abel!” he shouted as he went.
Abel made a dash to follow, but he only struck his face against the muzzle of a pistol, and the head constable held on.
There was a rush after Bart, but it was needless, for the great stolid fellow had seen the state of affairs, and come back.
“All right, Abel, lad,” he growled; “I won’t leave you in the lurch. What’s it mean – lock-up!”
“Yes, my lad; charge of attempted murder and robbery,” said the head constable.
“Took all the skin off my hips and ribs,” growled Bart, rubbing himself softly.
“You’ll have plenty of time to get well before your trial,” said the constable, smiling. “Are you ready!”
This last to Abel, who was gazing fiercely at his sister, who met his angry eyes with an imploring look.
“And my own sister, too, Bart,” he said, bitterly. “We fought for her, lad, and she gave information to the police.”
“No, no, no, Abel!” cried Mary, running to him to fling her arms about his neck; but he gave her a rough thrust which sent her staggering back, and her countenance changed on the instant for her eyes flashed vindictively, and she stood before him with folded arms.
“Prisoner confessed in the presence of you all that he committed the act,” said the constable; and his words were received with a mutter of assent in chorus.
“Here, I’m ready,” said Abel. “Come along, mate.”
“So’m I,” growled Bart, laying a hand on Abel’s shoulder. “I wouldn’t ha’ thought it on you, Mary, my lass,” he said, and he gazed at her sadly as he shook his head.
Mary made no reply, but stood with her arms folded across her breast and her brow wrinkled while the party moved out of the cottage; but the next instant the scene which followed made her rush outside and gaze wildly with eyes dilated and breast heaving, and her hands now clasped as she watched the chase.
For as the little party stood outside, Bart still with his hand upon his companion’s shoulder, Abel said quickly —
“The boat. Run!”
Bart was, as a rule, rather slow of comprehension; but at that moment the same idea was filling his mind. That is to say, it was already charged, and Abel’s words were as so many sparks struck from steel to fire that charge. Consequently, as the young fellow struck the constable to the left, Bart did the same to the right, and they dashed off as one man towards where, just round the western point of rock which helped to form the little bay, they knew that their boat was lying, swinging with the tide to a grapnel lying on the sands.
As they dashed off, running swiftly over the hard sand, the head constable raised his old brass-mounted pistol and fired, when the shot might have been supposed to have struck Mary Dell, so sharp a start did she give as she clapped one hand to her side, and then peered at the rising smoke, and drew a long breath full of relief.
For, as the smoke rose, she could see the fugitives still running, and that quite a cloud of sea-birds had risen from the mew-stone, a hundred yards from shore, to fly circling round, screaming querulously, as they slowly flapped their black-tipped wings.
“They’ll escape – they’ll escape!” cried Mary, clapping her hands joyously. “The coward, to fire! And they’re afraid to run hard and catch them now they are out in the open. Yes, they’ll escape!” she cried again, as she saw the distance increasing between pursuer and pursued. “They’ll get to the boat; the sail’s in, and there’s a good breeze. Oh, if I were only with them!”
A sudden thought struck her, and she caught up a sun-bonnet from where it lay on the open window-sill.
“I’ll go,” she thought. “They’ll sail west. I could reach Mallow’s Cove across the fields, and signal to them. They’d come in and pick