This went on for some minutes without advantage on either side, till, growing tired, Billy Waters drew back for a moment. "Now, my lads," he whispered, "I'm going to roosh him. Keep close up, Tom Tully, and nail him if I go down."

Tom Tully growled out his assent to the order given to him, and the next moment the gunner made a dash forward into the darkness, striking sharply downwards with his cutlass, so sharply that the sparks flew from the rock, where his weapon struck, while on recovering himself for a second blow he found that it, too, struck the rock, and Billy Waters uttered a yell as he started back, overcome with superstitious horror on finding himself at the end of the narrow rift, and quite alone.

"What's the matter, matey?" growled Tom Tully; "are you hurt?"

"No. Go and try yourself," said the gunner, who was for the moment quite unnerved.

Tom Tully squeezed by, and, making a dash forward, he too struck at the rock, and made the sparks fly, after which he poked about with the point of his cutlass, which clinked and jingled against the stones.

"Why, they ar'n't here!" he cried. "Look out!"

Every one did look out, but in vain. They were in a very narrow passage between two perpendicular pieces of rock, and they had driven the smugglers back step by step into what they expected to find to be a cavern crammed with treasure; but now that the end was reached they could feel nothing in the dark but the flat face of the rock, and this seemed to slope somewhat over their heads, and that was all.

Billy Waters' surprise had now evaporated along with his alarm, and pushing to the front once more he set himself to work to find how the enemy had eluded them.

They could not have gone through the rock, he argued, and there was no possible way that he could feel by which they had climbed up. Neither was ascent possible by scaling the rock to right or left, unless they had had a ladder, and of that there did not seem to have been any sign.

For a few moments the gunner stood as if nonplussed. Then an idea occurred to him.

Taking a pistol from his belt he quickly drew out the bullet and a portion of the powder before flashing off the other over some which he laid loose upon the rock.

This lit up the place for the moment, but revealed nothing more than they knew before, and that was that they were walled in on either side by rock, and that a huge mass rose up in front.

"It's a rum 'un," growled Tom Tully; and then again, "It's a rum 'un. I say, Billy Waters, old mate, what's gone o' them chaps?"

The gunner felt ready to believe once more that there was something "no canny" about the affair, but he shook off the feeling, and began searching about once more for some sign or other of his enemies; but he sought in vain, and at last he turned to his companions to ask them what they had better do.

Such a proceeding would, however, be derogatory to his dignity, he thought, so he proceeded to give his opinion on the best course.

"Look here, my lads," he said in a whisper; "it seems to me that we ought to have come on this trip by daylight."

"That ere's what I said," growled Tom Tully.

"All right, Tommy, only don't be so precious proud of it," said the leader. "I says we ought to have come on this trip by daylight."

"As I says afore, that's what I did say," growled Tom Tully again; but this time his superior officer refused to hear him, and continued:

"As we didn't come by daylight, my lads, we ought to have had lanterns."

"Ay, ay," said one of the men.

"So I think," said the gunner; "we'd best go back and get the lanterns, so as to have a good search, or else come back and do the job by daylight."

"Ay, ay," was chorussed by three of the party.

"Yes, it's all very well to say 'Ay, ay,' and talk about lanterns and daylight," growled Tom Tully; "but I don't like going off and leaving one's work half done. I want to have a go at that chap as fetched me a crack with a handspike, and I shan't feel happy till I have; so now then, my lads."

"What's the good o' being obst'nit, Tommy?" said his leader. "No one wants to stop you from giving it to him as hit you, only just tell me where he is."

"That ar'n't my job, Billy Waters," cried the big fellow; "that's your job. You leads, and I does the fighting. Show him to me and I'll make him that sore as he shall wish he'd stopped at home."

"Come on, then, and let's get the lanterns, and come back then," said the gunner. "It ar'n't no use to be knocking ourselves about here in the dark. Come on."

He tried to lead the way back as they had come, each man cutlass in hand, and well on the alert in case of attack; but nothing interposed to stop them as they scrambled and clambered over the rocks till they got to the open shore once more, just as, in front of them and out in the pitchy blackness, there was a flash, a report, and then the wall of darkness closed up once more.

"Oh! ah, we're a-coming," said Billy Waters, who, now that the excitement was over, began to feel very sore, while his companions got along very slowly, having a couple of sorely-beaten men to help. "Anybody make out the ship's lights?"

"I can see one on 'em," growled Tully.

"And where's our boat?" cried the gunner. "Jim Tanner, ahoy!"

"Ahoy!" came in a faint voice from a distance.

"There he is," said Billy Waters. "Come, my lads, look alive, or we shall have the skipper firing away more o' my powder. I wish him and Jack Brown would let my guns alone. Now then, Jim Tanner, where away?"

"Ahoy!" came again in a faint voice, and stumbling on through the darkness, they came at last upon the boatkeeper, tied neck and heels, and lying in the sand.

"Who done this?" cried the gunner.

"I dunno," said the man; "only cast me loose, mates."

This was soon done, the man explaining that a couple of figures suddenly jumped upon him out of the darkness, and bound him before he could stand on his defence.

"Why, you was asleep, that's what you was," cried the gunner angrily. "Nice job we've made of it. My! ar'n't it dark? Now, then, where's this here boat? Bring them two wounded men along. D'yer hear?"

"Oh, it ar'n't been such a very bad time," growled Tom Tully; "we did have a bit of a fight!"

"Fight? ay! and didn't finish it. Now, then, Tom Tully, where's that boat? Can you see her?"

"Yes; here she is," growled the big sailor; "and blest if some one ar'n't took away the oars; and—yes that they have. No getting off to-night, lads; they've shoved a hole in her bottom."

"What!" cried Billy Waters, groping his way to the boat; and then, in a hoarse, angry voice, "and no mistake. She's stove-in!"



CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

A FEW IDEAS ON ESCAPE.

Hilary Leigh felt very angry at being shut up in his prison, but the good breakfast with which he had been supplied went some way towards mollifying him, and as he sat upon the window-sill he felt that Sir Henry would much like to win him over to his side.

"And he is not going to do it," he said half aloud.

It was a lovely day, and as he sat there gazing out at the view, he thought he had never seen anything so beautiful before. It was wonderful, too, how a comfortable meal had improved his appreciation of what he saw.

But even then there were drawbacks. A rough and narrow stone seat, upon which you can only sit by holding on tightly to some rusty iron bars, does go against the full enjoyment of a scene, especially if you know that those rusty iron bars prevent you from going any farther.

So before long Hilary grew weary of his irksome position, and, letting himself down, he had a walk along each side of the old chapel, striding out as fast as he could, till he fancied he heard his old playmate outside, when he pounded up to the window again, but only to be disappointed.

This went on hour after hour, but still Adela did not come, and as the afternoon wore on he began to think it extremely cruel and unsympathising.

"She knows I'm shut up here like a bird in a cage, and yet she does not come to say a single word to cheer me."

The side where the window was seemed darkened now, for the sun had got well round to the west, and as he climbed up for another good look out the landscape seemed to wear fresh charms, exciting an intense longing to get out and ramble over the sunshine-flooded hills, or to lie down beneath the shaded trees.

He was accustomed to a prison life, as it were, being shut up so much within a little sloop; but that wooden prison was always on the move, and never seemed to oppress him as did the four dull walls of his present abode.

"I shall wear out the knees of my breeches in no time, if I'm to be kept in here long," he said, as he was in the act of making a run and a jump for another look out; but he stopped short just in the act, for he fancied he heard the rattle of a key, and directly after he knew he was not deceived, for there was a heavy step, then another, and then a key was placed in the big door.

"Well, this is being made a prisoner, and no mistake. Hallo, handsome!" he cried aloud, as the forbidding-looking man addressed by Sir Henry as Allstone entered the place with another looking little more amiable, and both were bringing something in the shape of food.

"What?" said the man surlily.

"I said 'Hallo, handsome!'" cried Hilary. "Have you come to let me out?"

The man uttered a low hoarse chuckle, which sounded like a laugh, but his face did not move a muscle, and he looked as if he were scowling heavily.

"We'll carry you out some day, my young buck," he said, "feet foremost. There's a little burying-ground just outside the place here."

"Thank you," replied Hilary. "Is that meant for a joke?"

"Joke? No, I never joke. Here I've brought you something to eat, and you won't get any more till to-morrow."

He set the rough tray he carried on the floor, and the man who was with him did the same, after which they both stood and stared at the prisoner.

"Send him away," said Hilary suddenly, and he pointed to the fresh man.

"What for?"

"I want to talk to you."

Allstone gave his head a jerk and the man went outside. "Look here," said Hilary, "how long are you going to keep me here?"

"Till the skipper is tired of you, I suppose, or till Sir Henry's gone."

"And then you'll let me go?"

"Oh, yes," said the man grimly. "We shall let you go then."

There was another hoarse chuckle, which appeared very strange, for it did not seem to come from the man, who scowled at him in the same heavy, morose way.

"Oh! come! you're not going to frighten me into the belief that you can kill me, my man," cried Hilary. "I'm too old for that."

"Who's to know if we did?" said the fellow.

"Why, you don't suppose that one of his majesty's officers can be detained without proper search being made. You'll have the crew of my ship over here directly, and they'll burn the place about your ears."

"Thankye," said the man. "Is that all you want to say?"

"No. Now look here; I'll give you five guineas if you'll let me go some time to-night. You could break through that window, and it would seem as if I had done it myself."

For answer the man turned upon his heel and stalked out of the place without a word.

"Get out, you rude boor!" cried Hilary, as the door slammed and the key turned. "Kill me and bury me! Bah! I should like to see them do it."

A faint noise outside made him scale the window once more; but there was no sign of Adela, so he returned.

"Well, they're not going to starve me," he said to himself, as he looked at the plates before him, one containing a good-looking pork pasty, the others a loaf and a big piece of butter, while a large brown jug was half full of milk.

There was a couple of knives, too, the larger and stronger of which he took and thrust beneath the straw.

"What a piggish way of treating a fellow!" he muttered. "No chair, no table; not so much as a stool. Well, I'm not very hungry yet, and as this is to last till to-morrow I may as well wait."

He stood thinking for a bit, and then the idea of escaping came more strongly than ever, and he went and examined the door, which seemed strong enough to resist a battering-ram.

There was the window as the only other likely weak place, but on climbing up and again testing the mortar with the point of his knife, the result was disheartening, for the cement of the good old times hardened into something far more difficult to deal with than stone. In fact, he soon found that he would be more likely to escape by sawing through the bars or digging through the stone.

"Well, I mean to get out if Lipscombe don't send and fetch me; and I'll let them see that I'm not quite such a tame animal as to settle down to my cage without some effort;" and as he spoke he looked up at the ceiling as being a likely place to attack.

He had the satisfaction of seeing that it was evidently weak, and that with the exercise of a little ingenuity there would be no difficulty in cutting a way through.

But there was one drawback—it was many feet above his head, and impossible of access without scaffold or ladder.

"And I'm not a fly, to hold on with my head downwards," he said, half aloud.

He slowly lowered himself from the window-sill, and had another good look at the walls, tapping them here and there where they had been plastered; but though they sounded hollow, they seemed for the most part to be exceedingly thick, and offered no temptation for an assault.

He stood there musing, with the place of his confinement gradually growing more gloomy, and the glow in the sky reminding him of how glorious the sea would look upon such an evening.

There were a few strands of straw lying about, and he proceeded to kick them together in an idle fashion, his thoughts being far away at the time, when a sudden thought came to him like a flash.

The place was paved with slabs of stone, and it had been the chapel of the old mansion; perhaps there were vaults underneath, or maybe cellars.

The more he thought, the more likely this seemed. The old builders in that part of England believed in providing cool stores for wine and beer. In many places the dairy was underground, and why might there not be some place below here from which he could make his escape?

He stamped with his foot and listened.

Hollow, without a doubt.

He tried in another part, and another; and no matter where, the sound was such as would arise from a place beneath whose floor there was some great vault.

"That'll do," he said to himself, with a half-laugh. "I'm satisfied; so now I'll have something to eat."

The evening was closing in as he seated himself upon the straw and began his meal, listening the while for some sign of the presence of Adela under his prison window, but he listened in vain. There was the evening song of the thrush, and he could hear poultry and the distant grunting of his friend the pig. Now and then, too, there came through the window the soft cooing of the pigeons on the roof, but otherwise there was not a sound, and the place might have been deserted by human kind.

"So much the better for me," he said, "if I want to escape;" and having at last finished his meal, he placed the remains on one side for use in the morning, and tried to find a likely stone in the floor for loosening, but he had to give up because it was so dark, and climbed up once more to the window to gaze out now at the stars, which moment by moment grew brighter in the east.

There was something very soft and beautiful in the calm of the summer night, but it oppressed him with its solitude. In one place he could see a faint ray of light, apparently from some cottage window; but that soon went out, and the scene that had been so bright in the morning was now shrouded in a gloom which almost hid the nearest trees.

Now and then he could hear a splash in the moat made by fish or water-vole, and once or twice he saw the star-bejewelled surface twinkle and move as if some creature were swimming across; but soon that was all calm again, and the booming, buzzing noise of some great beetle sweeping by on reckless wing sounded quite loud.

"It's as lively as keeping the middle watch," said Hilary impatiently. "The best thing I can do is to go to sleep."

Hilary Leigh was one not slow to act upon his convictions, and getting down he proceeded to make himself as snug a nest as he could in the straw, lay down, pulled some of it over him, to the great bedusting of his uniform, and in five minutes he was fast asleep.



CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

BILLY WATERS FINDS IT OUT.

"Well," said Billy Waters, "of all the cowardly, sneaking tricks anybody could do, I don't know a worse one than staving in a man's boat. Yah! a fellow who would do such a thing ought to be strung up at the yardarm, that he ought!"

"Every day," growled Tom Tully. "Well, matey, how is we to get aboard?"

"What's the good of asking me?" cried Billy Waters, who was regularly out of temper. "Leave that gun alone, will yer?" he roared as there was another flash and a report from the cutter. "It's enough to aggravate a hangel, that it is," he continued. "No sooner have I left the cutter, and my guns that clean you might drink grog out of 'em, than the skipper and that Jack Brown gets fooling of 'em about and making 'em foul. They neither of 'em know no more about loading a gun than they do about being archbishops; but they will do it, and they'll be a-busting of 'em some day. Firing again, just as if we don't know the first was a recall! Here, who's got a loaded pistol?"

"Here you are, matey," said Tom Tully.

"Fire away, then, uppards," said the gunner; "and let 'em know that we want help."

The flash from the pistol cut the darkness; there was a sharp report, and the gunner fired his own pistols to make three shots.

"There," he said, replacing them in his belt. "That'll make him send another boat, and if that there Jacky Brown's in it I shall give him a bit of my mind."

There was a long pause now, during which the weary men sat apart upon the sands, or with their backs propped against the sides of the damaged boat, but at last there came a hail out of the darkness, to which Tom Tully answered with a stentorian "Boat a-hoy-oy!"

"Who told you to hail, Tom Tully?" cried the gunner. "I'm chief orsifer here, so just you wait until you are told."

Tom Tully growled, and the gunner walked down to where the waves beat upon the shingle just as the regular plash-plash of the oars told of the coming of the boat from the cutter with the boatswain in command, that worthy leaping ashore, followed by half a dozen men.

"What's on?" he cried. "Have you found Muster Leigh?"

"No."

"What did you signal for?"

"Boat. Ourn's stove-in, and we've got knocked about awful."

"What! by the smugglers?"

"Ay, my lad. They beat us off."

"Then, now there's reinforcements, let's go and carry all afore us."

"It's all very fine for you, coming fresh and ready, to talk," said the gunner; "but it ar'n't no use, my lad—we're reg'lar beat out. They got away somehow, and you want daylight to find 'em."

"Then you may go up the side of the cutter first, my lad, that's all I've got to say," said the boatswain. "You don't catch me facing the skipper to-night."

It was a close pack to get all the men on board, but it was successfully accomplished, the stove-in boat taken in tow, and the side of the cutter reached at last, where, as the boatswain had vaguely hinted, there was a storm. Billy Waters was threatened with arrest, and he was abused for an hour for his clumsy management of the expedition.

"A child would have managed it better, sir," cried the lieutenant; "but never was officer in his majesty's service worse served than I am. Not one subordinate have I on whom I can depend; I might just as well get a draught of boys from the guardship, and if it was not for the men and the marines I don't know what I should do. Pipe down."

The men were piped down, glad enough to get something to eat, and then to crawl to their hammocks, out of which they rolled in the morning seeming little the worse for their engagement, the injured men being bruised pretty severely, though they would not own to their hurts, being too eager, as they put it, to go and pay their debts.

For quite early the cutter began to sail in pretty close to the shore, the carpenter busy the while in getting a fresh plank in the bottom of the stove-in boat, having it ready by the time the lieutenant mustered his men and told them off into the boats, leaving the boatswain in command of the cutter and leading the expedition himself.

The men fancied once or twice that they could see people on the cliffs watching their movements, but they could not be sure, and as the boats grated on the shingle the rocks looked as desolate and deserted as if there had not been a soul there for years.

The men were well-armed, and ready to make up for their misadventure of the previous night, and Billy Waters being sent to the front to act as guide he was not long in finding out the narrow entrance amongst the rocks, but only to be at fault directly after, on account of places looking so different in broad daylight to what they did when distorted by the shadowy gloom.

He had come to the head-scratching business, when a rub is expected to brighten the intellect, and felt ready to appeal to his companions for aid and counsel when he suddenly recollected that they had clambered over a rock here, and this he now did, shouting to his companions to come on, just as the lieutenant was approaching to fulminate in wrath upon his subordinate's ignorance.

"Here you are," he cried, and one after the other the men tumbled down the rock, following him through each well-remembered turn—spots impressed upon them by the blows they had received, until they were brought to a standstill in a complete cul-de-sac, through a passage so narrow that one man could have held it against a dozen if there had been anything to hold.

The lieutenant squeezed his way past the men till he stood beside his subordinate.

"Well, why have you brought us here?" he exclaimed.

"This here's the place where we chased 'em to, your honour," said the gunner, "and then they disappeared like."

"But you said it was so dark that you could not see any one."

"Yes, your honour, we couldn't hardly see 'em; but they disappeared all the same."

"Where? How?"

"Some'eres here, your honour."

"Nonsense, man! The rock's thirty feet high here, and they could not go up that."

"No, your honour."

"Then where did they go?"

"That's what none of us can't tell, your honour."

"Look here, Waters," said the lieutenant in a rage; "do you mean to tell me that you have let me lead his majesty's force of marines and sailors to the attack of a smugglers' stronghold, and then got nothing more to show than a corner in the rocks?"

Billy Waters scratched his head again and looked up at the face of the rock, then at the sides, and then down at his feet, before once more raising his eyes to his commander.

"Now, sir!" exclaimed the latter, "what have you to say?"

Billy Waters appealed to the rocks again in mute despair, but they were as stony-faced as ever.

"Do you hear me, sir?" cried the lieutenant. "The fact of it is that you all came ashore, got scandalously intoxicated, and then began fighting among yourselves."

"No, we didn't," growled Tom Tully from somewhere in the rear.

"Who was that? What mutinous scoundrel dared to speak like that?" cried the lieutenant; but no one answered, though the question was twice repeated. "Very good, then," continued the lieutenant; "I shall investigate this directly I am back on board. Waters, consider yourself under arrest."

"All right, your honour," said the gunner; "but if I didn't get a crack on the shoulder just about here from some one, I'm a Dutchman."

"Ay, ay," was uttered in chorus; and the members of the previous night's party stared up at the rocks on all sides, in search of some evidence to lay before their doubting commander; but none being forthcoming, they reluctantly followed him back to the open shore, where, as there was nothing to be seen but rocks, sand, and stones, and the towering cliff, they proceeded back to the boats.

"Fools! idiots! asses!" the lieutenant kept muttering till they embarked, the gunner and Tom Tully being in one boat, the lieutenant in the other, which was allowed to get well on ahead before the occupants of the second boat ventured to speak, when Tom Tully became the spokesman, the gunner being too much put out by the rebuff he had met with to do more than utter an occasional growl.

"Lookye here, my lads," said Tully; "arter this here, I'll be blessed."

That was all he said; but it was given in so emphatic a tone, and evidently meant so much, that his messmates all nodded their heads in sage acquiescence with his remark. Then they looked at each other and bent steadily to their oars, in expectation of what was to take place as soon as they got on board.

By the time they were three-quarters of the way Billy Waters had somewhat recovered himself.

"I've got it," he exclaimed.

"Got what?" said three or four men at once.

"Why that 'ere. I see it all now. Them chaps lives atop o' the cliff when they ar'n't afloat, and they've got tackle rigged up ready, and what do they do but whip one another up the side o' the rock, just as you might whip a lady out of a boat up the side of a three-decker."

Tom Tully opened his mouth and stared at the gunner in open admiration.

"Why, what a clever chap you are, Billy!" he growled. "I shouldn't ha' thought o' that if I'd lived to hundred-and-two."

"I see it all now plain enough, mates," continued the gunner. "I was hitting at that chap one minute in the dark, and then he was gone. He'd been keeping me off while his mates was whipped up, and then, when his turn came, up he goes like a bag o' biscuit into a warehouse door at Portsmouth, and I'll lay a tot o' grog that's what's become of our young orsifer."

"Hark at him!" cried Tom Tully, giving his head a sidewise wag. "That's it for sartain; and if I wouldn't rather sarve under Billy Waters for skipper than our luff, I ar'n't here."

"You'd best tell him, then, as soon as we get on board," said one of the men.

"What! and be called a fool and a hidiot!" cried the gunner. "Not I, my lads. I says let him find it out for hisself now, for I sha'n't tell nothing till I'm asked."

In this spirit the crew of the second boat reached the side of the cutter, went on board, the boats were hoisted up, and Billy Waters had the pleasure of finding himself placed under arrest, with the great grief upon his mind that his guns were left to the tender mercies of the boatswain, and a minor sorrow in the fact that his supply of grog was stopped.



CHAPTER NINETEEN.

IN THE MIDDLE WATCH.

How long Hilary had been asleep he did not know, but he was aroused suddenly by something touching his face, and he lay there wide awake on the instant, wondering what it meant.

And now for the first time the hardship of his position came with renewed force. He was accustomed to a rough life on board ship, where in those days there were few of the luxuries of civilisation, but there he had a tolerably comfortable bed. Here he had straw, and the absence of a coverlet of any description made him terribly cold.

The cold chill did not last many seconds after his awaking, for he felt a strange sensation of heat come over him; his hands grew moist, and in a state of intense excitement he lay wondering what it was that had touched his face.

He could not be sure, but certainly it felt like a cold, soft hand, and he waited for a renewal of the touch, determined to grasp at it if it came again.

He was as brave as most lads of his age, but as he lay there, startled into a sudden wakefulness, it was impossible to help thinking of Adela's words spoken that morning and his own light remarks, and for a time he felt in a strange state of perturbation.

All was perfectly still, and it was so dark that he could not for some time make out the shape of the window against the night sky; but inside his prison there was a faint light, so faint that it did not make the wall visible, and towards this he strained his eyes, wondering whence it came.

"Why, what a coward I am!" he said to himself, as he made an effort to master his childish fears. "Ghosts, indeed! What nonsense! I'm worse than a child—afraid of being in the dark."

He lay listening with the straw rustling at his slightest movement, and then, unable to bear the uncertainty longer, he started up on one elbow.

As he did so there was a quick noise to his right, and he turned sharply in that direction.

"I might have known it," he muttered—"rats. I daresay they swarm in this old place. How did that fellow get in? I saw no holes."

Unable to answer the question, he turned his attention to the faint light that seemed to pervade the place, and, after a time, he made out that it struck down through some crack or crevice in the ceiling.

As he tried to make out where, it seemed to die away, leaving the place as black as ever; but now, in place of the depressing silence, he could hear that something was going on. There was a dull noise somewhere below him, making his heart beat fast with excitement, for it was an endorsement of his ideas that there was a cellar or vault. Then, in the distance, he fancied he could hear the rattle of chains, and the impatient stamp of a horse, with once or twice, but very faintly heard, a quick order or ejaculation.

"I wonder whether there are many rats here?" he thought, for he wanted to get up and clamber to the window, and look out to see if he could witness any of the proceedings of his captors.

It was an unpleasant thought that about the rats, for, as a matter of course, he began directly afterwards to recall all the old stories about people being attacked by rats, and half devoured by the fierce little animals; and it was some time before he could shake off the horrible idea that if he moved dozens of the little creatures might attack him.

Making an effort over himself to master his cowardly feelings, he sprang up and stood listening; but there was not so much as a scuffle of the tiny feet, and groping his way to the wall beneath the window, he climbed up and looked out, but could see nothing, only hear voices from the other side of the house.

Directly after, though, he heard some one apparently coming to his prison; for there were the steps upon the boarded floor, then others upon a stone passage, and a light shone beneath his door.

"They sha'n't find me up here," he thought; and he lowered himself down; but, to his surprise, instead of whoever it was coming right to his door, he seemed to go down some steps, with another following him. The light disappeared, and then the footsteps ceased, and he could hear the rumbling mutter of voices below his feet.

"I hope they are not getting up a gunpowder plot below," said Hilary to himself, for his dread had given place to curiosity. "I'll be bound to say that there's a regular store of good things down there waiting to be turned into prize-money for my lads when I once get back on board. Hallo! here they come again."

The ascending steps were heard plainly enough, and the light reappeared, shining feebly beneath the door; and, going softly across, Hilary looked through the great keyhole, and could see the ill-looking man Allstone with a candle in one hand and a little keg that might have contained gunpowder or spirit upon his shoulder.

"Here," he whispered to his companion, "lay hold while I lock up."

It was all in a moment. The keg was being passed from one to the other, when, between them, they let it fall with a crash, knocking the candle out of Allstone's hands.

Hilary saw the flash of the contents of the keg as the candle fell upon the stones; then there was the noise of a dull explosion that rattled the door; and as the prisoner started back from the door a stream of blue fire began to run beneath it, and he heard one of the men yell out:

"There's that young officer in there, and he'll be burned to death!"



CHAPTER TWENTY.

A FIERY TRIAL.

It was a terrible position, and for a few moments Hilary felt helpless to move.

That blue stream of fire came gurgling and fluttering beneath the door, spreading rapidly over the floor, filling the chapel with a ghastly glare; and the prisoner saw that in a few moments it would reach the straw.

Even in those exciting moments he fully comprehended the affair. He knew, as in a case he had once seen on shipboard, that this was spirit of extraordinary strength, and that the vapour would explode wherever it gathered, even while the surface of the stream was burning.

He did not stand still, though, to think, but with all the matter-of-fact, business habitude of one accustomed to a life of emergencies, he proceeded to drag the straw into the corner farthest away from the increasing flame.

The next minute he saw that this corner was the one nearest the window, and that if he had to take refuge there, and the flame extended to the straw, there would be a tremendous blaze almost beneath him.

Setting to work, he dragged it away into another corner, sweeping up the loose pieces as rapidly as he could, and even as he did so the fluttering blue-and-orange flames advanced steadily across the floor, cutting off his access to the window, and rapidly spreading now all over the place, for the passage had a gradual descent to the door, and nearly the whole of the spilt spirit came bubbling and streaming in.

It was a beautiful, although an appalling sight, for the surface of the spirit was all dancing tongues of fire—red, blue, and orange, mingled with tiny puffs of smoke and bright sparks as it consumed the fragments of straw that lay upon the stones.

It had reached the opposite wall now, and ran as well right up to the window, the floor being now one blaze, except in the corner where Hilary stood on guard, as if to keep the flames back from the straw.

But now he found that he had another enemy with which to contend, for a peculiarly stifling vapour was arising, producing a sensation of giddiness, against which he could not battle; and as Hilary drew back from the approach of the tiny sea of waves of fire, pressing back, as he did so, the straw, he felt that unless he could reach the window he would be overcome.

There was no time for pause; help, if it were coming, could not reach him yet. In another instant he knew that the straw would catch fire. Even now a little rill of spirit had run to it, along which the flames were travelling, so, nerving himself for the effort, he made a dash to cross to the window.

At his first step the burning spirit splashed up in blue flames; at his second, the fire rose above his ankles; then, placing his foot upon a plate that had been left upon the floor, he slipped and fell headlong into the burning tongues that seemed to rise and lick him angrily.

The sensation was sharp to his hands, but not too pungent, and, fortunately, he kept his face from contact with the floor, while struggling up he for the moment lost his nerve, and felt ready to rush frantically about the place.

Fortunately, however, he mastered himself, and dashed at the window, leaped at the sill, and climbed up to breathe the pure cool air that was rushing in, just as the straw caught fire, blazed up furiously, and the place rapidly filled with rolling clouds of smoke.

He could not notice it, however, for the flames that fluttered about his garments where they were soaked with the spirit, and for some few minutes he thought of nothing but extinguishing the purply blaze.

They burned him but slightly, and in several places went out as the spirit became exhausted; but here and there the woollen material of his garments began to burn with a peculiar odour before he had extinguished the last spark.

Meanwhile, although the straw blazed furiously, and the smoke filled the place so that respiration would have been impossible, no help came. The spirit fluttered and danced as it burned, and save here and there where it lay in inequalities of the floor, it was nearly consumed, the danger now being from the straw, which still blazed.

Fortunately for Hilary, although he could feel the glow, his foresight in sweeping it to one corner saved him from being incommoded, and the heat caused a current of cool night-air to set in through the window and keep back the blinding and stifling fumes.

He listened, and could hear shouts in the distance; but no one came to his help, and he could not avoid feeling that if he had been dependent upon aid from without he must have lost his life. Fortunately for him, just at a time when his fate seemed sealed, the flames from the burning straw reached their height, and though they blackened the ceiling they did no worse harm, but exhausted from the want of supply they sank lower and lower. There was not a scrap of furniture in the place, or salient piece of wood to catch fire, and so as the spirit burned out, and the blazing straw settled down into some blackened sparkling ash, Hilary's spirits rose, and with the reaction as he clung there by the window came a feeling of indignation.

"If I don't be even with some of them for this!" he muttered. "They half starve me, and then try to burn me to death."

"Yes, that's right," he cried. "Bravo, heroes! Come, now the danger's over."

For as he sat there he could hear hurrying feet, the rattle of a key in the chapel door, and shouts to him to come out.

The smoke was so dense that the fresh comers could not possibly see him where he sat in the window, and they cried to him again to come out.

"I sha'n't come," said Hilary to himself; "you'll only lock me up somewhere else, and now I have found out as much as I have, perhaps I shall be better off where I am."

"There'll be a pretty noise about this when Sir Henry comes back," cried a voice, which Hilary recognised as that of the ill-looking fellow Allstone. "You clumsy fool, dropping that keg!"

"It was as much you as me," cried another. "I sha'n't take all the blame."

"The lad's burned to death through your clumsiness," continued Allstone.

"And a whole keg of the strongest brandy wasted," said another dolefully.

"The place nearly burned down too," said another.

"Here, go in somebody," cried Allstone. "Perhaps he isn't quite dead, and I suppose we must save him if we can. Do you hear? Go in some of you."

"Who's going in?" said another voice. "There's smoke enough to choke you. Why don't you go in yourself?"

"Because I tell you to go," cried Allstone savagely. "I'm master here when the skipper's away, and I'll be obeyed. Go in, two of you, and fetch the boy out."

"He don't want no fetching out," said one of the men, as the current of air that set from the window drove the smoke aside and revealed the dimly-seen figure of Hilary seated in the embrasure holding on to the iron bars. "He don't want no help; there he sits."

Allstone, who had been seized with a fit of coughing and choking from the effects of the blinding, pungent smoke, did not speak for a few moments, during which the smoke went on getting thinner and thinner, though, as the men had no lights, everything was still very obscure.

"Oh, you're up there, are you?" cried Allstone at last. "Come down, sir; do you hear?" And he spoke as if he were addressing a disobedient dog; but Hilary remained perfectly silent, truth to say, almost speechless from indignation.

"What do you mean by pretending to be smothered and burned to death, hey?" cried the fellow again, roughly. "Why don't you answer? Get down."

"Out, bully!" cried Hilary angrily. "Why, you insolent dog, how dare you speak to a king's officer like that? Why, you ugly, indecent-looking outrage upon humanity, you set fire to the place through your clumsiness, and then come and insult me for not being burned to death."

"Haw! haw! haw!" laughed one of the men. "Well crowed, young gamecock."

"You cowardly lubbers, why didn't you come sooner to help me, instead of leaving me to frizzle here? I might have burned to death a dozen times for aught you cared."

"Haw! haw! haw!" laughed a couple of the men now, to Allstone's great annoyance.

"Hold your tongue, and come down, boy," he cried. "You can't stop there."

"Be off and lock the door again, bully," cried Hilary. "You great ugly, cowardly hound, if I had you on board the Kestrel, you should be triced up and have five dozen on your bare back."

"Haw! haw! haw!" came in a regular chorus this time, for the danger was over.

"I'd like to look on while the crew of you were being talked to by the boatswain," cried Hilary, angrily—"a set of cowardly loons."

"That'll do!" cried Allstone, who was hoarse with passion. "Go in and fetch him out."

No one stirred, and Allstone went in himself, but only to be seized with a furious fit of coughing which lasted a couple of minutes or so, and to his companions' intense delight.

The fit over, the fellow went in again and stood beneath the window.

"Come down!" he cried; but as Hilary did not condescend to notice him Allstone seized the young man by one of his legs, with the result that he clung with both hands to the iron bars, and raising up his knees for a moment, kicked out with as much cleverness as his friend the jackass, catching Allstone full in the chest and sending him staggering back for a few steps, where, unable to recover his balance, he went down heavily in a sitting position.

There was a roar of laughter from his companions, who stamped about, slapped their legs, and literally danced with delight; while, in spite of his anger and indignation at this scoundrel of a smuggler daring to touch a king's officer, Hilary could not help feeling amused.

But matters looked tragic directly after instead of comic, for, uttering a fierce oath, the man sprang up, pulled out his cutlass and made at the prisoner.

Active as a leopard, Hilary sprang down to avoid him, when the pieces of the broken plate—the remains of that which had thrown the young officer down into the burning spirit—this time befriended him, for Allstone stepped upon a large fragment, slipped, fell sprawling, and the cutlass flew from his hand with a loud jangling noise in the far corner upon the stone floor.

Quick as lightning, and while the other men were roaring with laughter, Hilary dashed at the cutlass, picked it up, and, assuming now the part of aggressor, he turned upon Allstone, presenting the point of his weapon, and drove the ruffian before him out of the place, turning the next moment upon his companions, who offered not the slightest resistance, but retreated before him laughing with all their might.

Hilary was about to seize the opportunity to chase them onward through the passage and try to escape, but Allstone was too quick for him.

On being driven out the man had taken refuge behind the door, and as the last man of his companions passed he dashed it to, striking Hilary full and driving him backwards into the chapel, as it slammed against the post with a heavy echo, and was locked and bolted.

"Stop there, and starve and rot," the ruffian cried through the keyhole furiously, as Hilary stood panting and shaking first one hand and then the other, against which the door, to the saving of his face, had come with tremendous force.

"We'll see about that," said Hilary to himself, as he gave the cutlass a flourish; and then, as the steps died down the passage and he heard the farther door close, with the steps of the men passing over the empty boarded room, he laughed at the change that had come over the scene during the last quarter of an hour.



CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.

TEMPTATION.

There was something ludicrous in the struggle that had taken place, especially as Hilary had so thoroughly won the day; but at the same time there was a very unpleasant side to his position. It was in the middle of the night and very dark, save in one corner of the stone-floored place where the remains of the heap of straw displayed a few sparks, and sent up a thin thread of smoke, which rose to the ceiling and there spread abroad, the rest having passed away, driven out by the draught caused by the open door. He had not a scrap of furniture; the straw was all burned, and the floor of his prison was stone.

Still there was one good thing upon his side—one which afforded Hilary the most intense satisfaction, and this was the fact that he had secured the cutlass. Not that he wanted it for fighting, though it might prove useful in case of need for his defence; but it suggested itself to him as being a splendid implement for raising one of the stones in the floor, with which help he might possibly get into the cellars or vaults below, and so escape.

"But I don't like going to sleep on the stones," said Hilary to himself, and tucking the cutlass under his arm, he felt the flooring in different places.

To his surprise he found it perfectly dry, for the intensely strong spirit had burned itself completely out, leaving not so much as a humid spot; and after climbing up to look out at the dark night, Hilary saw that the fire was as good as extinct, and ended by sitting down.

The stones were very cold, but he felt weary, and at last so intense a desire to sleep came upon him that he lay down, and in spite of the hardness of his couch and the fact that he had no pillow but his arm, he dropped off into a heavy sleep, from which he did not awaken till the sun was shining in through the window upon the smoke-blackened walls.

Hilary's first thought was concerning his cutlass, which was safe by his side, and jumping up, he listened. Then he went to the door and listened again, but all was perfectly still.

What was he to do? he asked himself. He felt sure that Allstone would come before long, and others with him, to obtain possession of the weapon, and he was equally determined not to give it up. He might fight for it, but, now that he was cool, he felt a repugnance against shedding blood; and, besides, he knew that he must be overcome by numbers, perhaps wounded, and that would make a very uncomfortable state of things ten times worse.

The result was that he determined to hide the cutlass; but where?

He looked around the place, and, as far as he could see, there was not a place where he could have hidden away a bodkin, let alone the weapon in his hand.

Certainly he might have heaped over it the black ashes of the straw and the few unburned scraps; but such a proceeding would have been childish in the extreme.

It was terribly tantalising, for there was absolutely no place where he could conceal it; and at last, biting his lips with vexation, he exclaimed, after vainly looking out for a slab that he could raise:

"I must either fight for it or throw it out of the window; and I'd sooner do that than he should have it back. Hurrah! That will do!" he cried eagerly, as a thought struck him.

Laying down the cutlass, he leaped up to the window, pressed his face sidewise against the bars, and looked down, to see that the grass and weeds grew long below him.

He was down again directly and seated upon the floor, where, after listening for a few moments, he stripped down one of his blue worsted stoutly-knitted stockings, sought for a likely place, cut through a thread, and, pulling steadily, it rapidly came undone. This furnished him with a line of worsted some yards long.

Leaping up, he rapidly tied one end round the hilt of the cutlass, climbed to the window, and lowered the weapon down outside, till it lay hidden amongst the grass close to the wall. Then he tied the slight thread close down in the rusted-away part of one of the bars, descended again, and raked up some ashes, with which he mounted and sprinkled them over the thread, making it invisible from inside; after which he descended, feeling quite hopeful that the plan would not be discovered.

This done, he seemed to have more time for a look round at the effects of the fire; but beyond a little blackening of the ceiling and the heap of ashes, there was nothing much to see. The strong spirit had burned itself out without doing more than scorch the bottom of the door; but he had a lively recollection of the strange scene as the little blue tongues of fire seemed to be fluttering and dancing all over the place.

Just then he noticed the corner where he had placed the remains of his previous night's meal, and there were the empty plates—for not a scrap of the food was left; and this satisfactorily indorsed his ideas respecting the touch that had so startled him into wakefulness.

"Better be awakened by that than by the blaze of fire," he said half aloud. "Oh, won't I give Sir Henry a bit of my mind about the treatment I meet with here, and—here he is."

For just then he heard the tramp of feet over the boarded floor, the flinging open of the first door, then the steps in the passage, and he altered his opinion.

"No!" he exclaimed; "it's old Allstone coming after his cutlass."

He was quite right, for, well-armed, and followed by four men, Hilary's jailer entered the place, glanced sharply round, and exclaimed:

"I've come for that cutlass."

"Have you?" said Hilary coolly.

"Hand it over."

"I have not got it," said Hilary coolly.

"Don't tell me lies," said the fellow roughly. "Here, lay hold."

Five to one was too much for resistance, so Hilary submitted patiently to the search that was made, to see if he had it concealed beneath his clothes.

"There's nothing here," said one of the men; and Allstone tried himself, flinching sharply as the prisoner made believe to strike at him.

Then he carefully looked all round the place, which was soon done, and the fellow turned to him menacingly:

"Now then," he cried, "just you speak out, or it will be the worse for you. Where's that cutlass?"

Hilary looked at him mockingly.

"I'll tell you the strict truth," he thought; and he replied, "I dropped it out of the window."

"It's a lie," cried the ruffian savagely; "I don't believe you."

"I knew you would not," said Hilary laughing. "Where is it then?"

"I swallowed it."

"What!" said the fellow staring.

"Hilt and all if you like. Now, do you believe that?" The man stared at him.

"Because you would not believe the truth, so there's what you asked for—a lie."

The fellow stared at him again, seized hold of him, and felt him all over in the roughest way. Then, satisfied that the weapon was not concealed about the lad's person, he looked round the place once more, walked to the side of the room so as to get a view of the window-ledge, and then he turned to Hilary once more.

"When did you drop it out?" he said sharply.

"As soon as I awoke this morning," replied Hilary. "Just before you came."

"Come along, my lads," said the fellow, who then withdrew with his followers. The door clanged to, was locked, and as Hilary listened he heard them all depart, securing the farther door behind them; and, satisfied that they were gone, he nimbly climbed up to the window, raised the cutlass by means of the worsted, and having taking it in he descended once more, unfastened and rolled up the thread for further use, and then thrust the weapon down under his vest and into the left leg of his trousers, feeling pretty sure that they would not search him again.

A few minutes later he heard voices, and going beneath the window, and raising himself up till his ear was level with the ledge, he could hear all that was said, and he knew that the men were searching for the sword.

"Don't seem to be about here," said one of the men.

"Look well," Hilary heard Allstone say.

"That's just what we are doing. Think he did throw it over?"

"Must have done so," said Allstone; "there isn't a place anywhere big enough to hide a knife."

"Then some one's been by this morning and picked it up," said one of the men, "for it don't seem to be anywhere here."

"Turn over that long grass," said Allstone, "and kick those weeds aside."

Hilary heard the rustling sounds made by the men as they obeyed their leader; but of course there was no result.

"Somebody come by and picked it up," said the man again; and, apparently satisfied, the party went away, Hilary raising his eyes, saw the smugglers go round the corner of the house below the ivied gable, leaving him wondering whether they would come back.

"They may," he thought; "and if they do, they will see that I've got this thing tucked in here."

Quickly taking out the worsted he secured it to the cutlass, and lowering it once more out of the window, tied the thread to the bar.

"It's safest there, I'll be bound," he muttered; and he had hardly made his arrangements for concealment when he heard the steps coming, and began walking up and down as the door was opened, and, staring at him doubtfully, Allstone came in with two men bearing some breakfast for the prisoner, while their leader went round Hilary again, searchingly noting every fold of his garments before once more withdrawing.

"He must have seen it if I had it on," said Hilary, as he once more found himself alone, when he eagerly attacked the provisions that had been left.

After satisfying his hunger, he was a good deal divided in his mind as to what to do about the weapon, which might prove to be so valuable an implement in his attempt to escape. If left outside and searched for again, the smugglers must find it; but the chances were that they would not go and look again, so he decided to leave it where it was.

The morning wore on without a single incident to take his attention, and he spent the time in examining the floor of his prison, giving a tap here and a tap there, and noting where it sounded most hollow.

It was a long task, but he had plenty of time upon his hands, and he at last decided that he would make his attack upon a small stone in the corner by the wall which contained the window, that was not only the darkest place, the light seeming to pass over it, but there was a hollower echo when he struck the stone, from which he hoped that the slab was thinner than the rest.

He drove the knife in all round and found that it passed in without difficulty; and as he examined the place, he found to his great delight that some time or other there had evidently been a staple let into the slab, probably to hold a great ring for raising the stone, and undoubtedly this was a way down to the vaults below.

What he wanted now was a good supply of straw to lay over that part of the floor to conceal any efforts he might make for raising the stone, and meanwhile dusting some of the ashes and half-burned straw-chaff over the spot, he awaited Allstone's next appearance with no little anxiety.

Towards afternoon he heard steps, and evidently his jailer was coming; but to his surprise, instead of Allstone being accompanied by two or three men, his companion was Sir Henry Norland, who had evidently just returned from a journey.

"Ah, my dear Hilary," he exclaimed, "I have just been hearing of your narrow escape. My dear boy, I cannot tell you how sorry I am. You are not in the least hurt, I hope?"

"No, Sir Henry, not in body," said the young man distantly; "but you see all my prison furniture has been destroyed. Will you give orders that I am to be supplied with a little more straw?"

"I gave orders that a mattress and blankets, with a table and chairs, should be brought here before I went out," said Sir Henry, "with a few other things. Good gracious! I had no idea the fire had been so bad. Did it burn everything?"

"My furniture was what I asked to be replaced—a little straw," said Hilary bitterly. "I had nothing else."

Sir Henry turned frowning to the man, and said a few words in a low but commanding tone to him which made him scowl; but he went off growling something to himself in a sulky manner.

"My dear Hilary," said Sir Henry, "I did not know you had been so badly treated. I am so much engaged upon His Majesty's business that I am afraid I have neglected you sadly."

"Indeed, Sir Henry? And now you have come to say that I am at liberty to go free and attend to His Majesty's business?" said Hilary with a sarcastic ring in his words.

"Will you?" said Sir Henry eagerly.

"Yes, of course," said Hilary. "I serve the king, and I am ready to do anything in the king's name."

Sir Henry smiled pityingly.

"We misunderstand each other, Hilary. But come, my boy, let us waste no words. Listen. I come to you armed with powers to make you a great and honoured man. Join us, Hilary. We know that you are a skilful officer, a clever sailor. You are the merest subordinate now; but throw yourself heart and soul into the Stuart cause, help to restore the king to his rights, and you shall rise with him. Young as you are, I have a splendid offer to make you. As you are, you serve under a miserable officer, and in time you may rise to a captaincy. Join us, and, as I say, young as you are His Majesty gives you through me the rank of captain, and knighthood shall follow if you serve him well."

"Have you nearly done, Sir Henry?" said Hilary coldly.

"Done, my dear boy, I want to introduce you to a band of truly chivalrous noblemen and gentlemen who will receive you with open arms. I want you to be my friend and fellow patriot—to aid me with your advice and energy. I want you to leave this wretched prison, and to soar above the contemptible task of putting down a few miserable smugglers. I want you to come out of this place with me at once, to become once more the companion of my little Adela, who sends her message by me that she is waiting to take you by the hand. Come: leave the wretched usurper's chains, and be free if you would be a man. Adela says—Hark! There she is."

As he spoke there came in through the window, bearing with it the memories of bright and happy times, the tones of the girl's sweet young voice, and as Hilary listened he closed his eyes and thought of the bright sunny country, the joys of freedom, the high hopes of ambition, and a warm flush came into his cheeks, while Sir Henry smiled in the satisfaction of his heart as he whispered to himself the one word—"Won!"



CHAPTER TWENTY TWO.

A SURPRISE FOR SIR HENRY.

It was very tempting. The country looked so bright and beautiful from his prison window; the voice of his old companion brought up such a host of pleasant recollections, and it would have been delightful to renew the old intimacy. Then, upon the other hand, what would he give up? A dull monotonous life under a tyrannical superior, with but little chance of promotion, to receive honour, advancement, and no doubt to enjoy no little adventure.

It was very tempting, and enough to make one with a stronger mind than Hilary Leigh waver in his allegiance.

As he stood there thinking the song went on, and Hilary felt that did he but say yes, and swear fealty to one who believed himself to be the rightful king of England, he would be at liberty to join Adela at once. There would be an end to his imprisonment, and no more wretched anxiety.

He had done his duty so far, he argued, and he was doing his duty when fortune went against him, and he was made a prisoner, so to a certain extent his changing sides might be considered excusable. He had had little else but rough usage and discomfort since he went to sea, and the offers now made to him by Sir Henry were full of promise, which he knew the baronet was too true to hold out without perfect honesty.

Taken altogether—that is in connection with his position, and the probability that he might be kept here a prisoner for any length of time, and that most likely he had already been reported by Mr Lipscombe as a deserter—there was such a bright prospect held out that Hilary felt for the time extremely weak and ready to give up.

Meanwhile the song went on outside, for all these thoughts ran very quickly through the young man's brain. Then Adela's voice died away, and Hilary opened his eyes to see Sir Henry standing there, with a smile upon his handsome face, and his hand extended.

"Well, Captain Leigh," he said, laughing, "I am to clasp hands with my young brother in the good cause?"

"You will shake hands with me, Sir Henry," said Hilary, "for we are very old friends, and I shall never forget my happy days at the old hall," and he laid his hand in that of the baronet.

"Forget them! No, my dear boy," cried Sir Henry enthusiastically. "But there will be brighter days yet. Come along and join Adela; she will be delighted to have you with her again. Come along! Why do you hang back? Why, Hil, my boy, you have not grown bashful?"

"You love the young Pre—I mean Charles Stuart," said Hilary quietly, as he still held his old friend's hand.

"Love, my boy? Yes, Heaven bless him! And so will you when you meet him. He will take to you with your frank young sailor face, Hilary."

"No, Sir Henry," Hilary replied sadly. "I have heard that he is generally frank, and an honourable gentleman."

"All that, Hilary," cried Sir Henry enthusiastically. "He is royal in his ways, and I am sure he will like you."

"If he is what you say, Sir Henry," replied the young man, "he would look with coldness and contempt upon a scoundrel and a traitor."

"To be sure he would," said Sir Henry, who in his elation and belief that he had won Hilary over to the Pretender's cause was thrown off his guard.

"Then why do you talk of his liking me, if, after signing my adhesion to him whom I look upon as my rightful king, I deserted him at the first touch of difficulty? No, Sir Henry, I could not accept your offer without looking upon myself afterwards as a traitor and a villain, and I am sure that you would be one of the first men to think of me with contempt."

Sir Henry dropped the hand he held in astonishment, completely taken aback, and a heavy frown came upon his brow.

"Are you mad, Hilary?" he exclaimed. "Do you know what you are refusing?"

"Yes, Sir Henry, I know what I am refusing; but I hope I am not mad."

"Honour, advancement, liberty, in place of what you are enduring now."

"Yes, Sir Henry, I can see it all."

"Adela's friendship—my friendship. Oh, my dear boy, you have not considered all this."

"Yes, Sir Henry, I have considered it all," said Hilary firmly; "and though you are angry now, I am sure that the time will come when you will respect me for being faithful to my king, just as you would have learned to despise me if I had broken my word."

Sir Henry did not reply, but turned short upon his heel and walked to the door, rapped loudly till the key was turned, and then without glancing at Hilary again he left the place.



CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.

HILARY'S WAY OF ESCAPE.

Hilary stood in the centre of the old chapel, gazing at the closed door, and listening to the rattle of the bolts. He was full of regrets, for, left early an orphan, he had been in the habit of looking up to Sir Henry somewhat in the way that a boy would regard a father; and he was grieved to the heart to think that so old and dear a friend should look upon him as an ingrate.

But at the same time he felt lighter at heart, and there was the knowledge to support him that he had done his duty at a very trying time.

"I should have felt that every right-thinking man had looked down upon me," he said, half aloud, "and little Adela would have been ashamed when she knew all, to call me friend."

He stood with his eyes still fixed upon the door thinking, and now his thoughts were mingled with bitter feelings, for he was still a prisoner at the mercy of a set of lawless men, Sir Henry being no doubt merely a visitor here, and possessed of but little authority.

"And I know too much for them to let me go and bring a few of our lads to rout out their nest," he said, half aloud. "Never mind, they won't dare to kill me, unless it is by accident," he added grimly, and then he ran to the window to see if Adela were in sight.

Practice had made him nimble now, and leaping up, he caught the bars, drew himself into the embrasure, and peered between the bars.

"Pst! Adela!" he cried eagerly, for he could just see her light dress between the trees.

She looked up, and came running towards the window, looking bright and happy, and there was an eager light in her eyes.

"Why, Hil!" she cried. "I did not think you would be there now. Papa said he thought you would soon be at liberty, and that perhaps you would stay with us a little while before you went away."

"And should you like me to stay with you?" he said, gazing down.

"Oh, yes; so much!" she said naively. "This old place is so dull and lonely, and I am so much alone with an old woman who waits upon us. Why don't you come out?"

"Because I am a prisoner," he said quietly.

"But I thought—I hoped—papa said you were going to give your parole not to escape," said Adela; "or else that you were going to join our cause and fight for the true king."

He shook his head mournfully.

"No, Addy. I cannot give my word of honour not to escape," he said; "because I hope to get away at the first opportunity."

"Then join our cause," cried Adela.

"No," he said, shaking his head, "I cannot join your cause, Addy, because I am an officer appointed in the king's name to serve in one of King George's vessels. I should be a traitor if I forsook my colours."

"But I want you to come," cried Adela, with the wayward tyranny of a child. "It seems so stupid for you to be shut up there like a wild beast in a cage. Oh, Hil, you must come on our side! Do!"

"Adela! Adela!" cried an imperious voice.

"Yes, papa, I am coming," she cried; and looking up quickly at the prisoner, she nodded and laughed, and the next moment she had disappeared.

Hilary sat watching as if in the hope that she would come back; but he knew in his heart that she would not, and so it proved at the end of quite a couple of hours.

"He has told her that she is to hold no communication with such a fellow," he said to himself. "Poor little Addy! what a sweet little thing she is growing, and what an impetuous, commanding way she has!"

He sat watching the place still, but without hope. Now and then the girl's words came to him.

"I seem like a wild beast in a cage, do I?" he said laughing. "Very good, Miss Addy; then I must gnaw my way out."

As he spoke his eyes fell upon the bit of worsted that was secured to the cutlass, and he was about to draw it up when he heard footsteps approaching from the interior, and he leaped lightly down and began walking about the place as the door was opened, and Allstone held it back for some of his men to enter with a couple of trusses of straw, a couple of blankets, a rough three-legged table, and a rougher stool, which were unceremoniously thrown or jerked down, and then, after a suspicious look at his prisoner, Allstone motioned to the men to go.

"Is there anything else your lordship would like?" he said with a sneer. "The best feather-beds are damp, and the carpets have been put away by mistake. What wines would your lordship like for your dinner and would you like silver cups or glass?"

"Now then, old Allstones, or Allbones, or Nobones, or whatever your name is," cried Hilary, putting his arms akimbo, and taking a step nearer to the jailer, "you are a big and precious ugly man of about forty, and I'm only a boy; but look here, if I had you on board my ship I'd have you triced up and flogged."

"But you are not on board your ship, my young cockerel," said the man mockingly.

"No," cried Hilary, "but I'm all here, and if you give me any of your sauce when you come in, I'll show you why some fellows are made officers and some keep common seamen to the end of their days."

"And how's that?" said the ruffian with a sneer.

"Because they know how to deal with bullies and blackguards like you. Now then, this is my room, so walk out."

He took another step forward and gazed so fiercely in the man's eyes, that, great as was the disparity in their ages and strength, Allstone shrank back step by step until he reached the doorway, when, if not afraid of Hilary, he was certainly so much taken aback by the young man's manner that he was thoroughly cowed for the moment, and shrank away, slipping through the door and banging it after him, leaving the prisoner to his meditations.

"Come, I've got a bed," he said, laughing, "and a chair and a table, and—hurrah! the very thing."

He then seized the table and turned it upside down to gaze beneath, and then replacing it, ran to the window, pulled up the cutlass, and going to the table once more, turned it over and inserted the point of the weapon between the side and the top, with the result that it stuck there firmly, and upon the table being replaced upon its legs it was quite concealed.

"There!" he cried, "that will be handy, and I daresay safe, for they will never think of searching that after bringing it in."

This done, he proceeded to roll up his worsted for future use, and placed it in one pocket, the piece of cord with which he had drawn up the milk being in another.

"Why, I might have used that instead of the worsted," he said, as he remembered it for the first time; but he recollected directly after that it would have been too easily seen.

Then he inspected the two trusses of straw, and made his bed close beside the opening he hoped to make by raising the slab; and then, having carefully examined the spot, he listened to make sure that he was not heard, and taking out his pocket-knife, went down upon his knees and began to pick out the hard dirt and cement that filled the cracks around the broad, flat stone.

It was rough work, but he had the satisfaction of feeling that he was making very fair progress, scraping up the pieces from the place around, and as fast as he secured a handful going to the window and throwing it out with a good jerk, looking out afterwards to see if it showed, and finding it was concealed by the long grass.

He was well upon the qui vive, having placed the straw close to the place where he was at work, and holding himself in readiness at the slightest alarm to scatter a portion over the slab.

But no one came, and he worked steadily on hour after hour till the crack all round was quite clear, and he had no need to do more till he tried to raise the stone by using the cutlass as a lever.

To guard against surprise he now scattered about some of the chaff and small scraps that had been shaken out of the two bundles of straw, and after listening attentively, he could not resist the temptation of taking out the heavy sword and trying whether he could lift the slab.

The point went in easily, and he was just about to press upon the handle when he snatched the weapon out and hastily thrust it back in its hiding-place, for there was the sound of an opening door, and a minute later Allstone walked in with a small loaf and a jug of water, placing them upon the table with a sour and malicious look at the prisoner, who did not even notice his presence, and then left the place.

"Bread and water, eh!" thought Hilary. "Well, the greater need for me to get away, for ship living will be better than this."

His hearty young appetite, however, was ready to induce him to look with favour upon food of any kind, and he set to at once, munching the bread and refreshing himself with draughts of water.

"If this is Sir Henry's doing," he said, "it is mean; but I'll put it down to the credit of our amiable friend Allstone. Perhaps I may be able some day to return the compliment. We shall see."

At his time of life low spirits do not last long, and he was too full of his idea of escape to trouble himself now about the quality of his food. All being well, he hoped to get down into the cellar, where, among other things it was evident that the smugglers kept their store of spirits; he might, perhaps, find firearms as well. At all events he hoped that the exit might prove easier than from the place where he now was.

He was obliged to leave off eating to try to raise the slab with the cutlass, so taking the weapon from its hiding-place, he tried the edge of the stone, inserting the point of the sword with the greatest care, and then pressing down the handle he found, to his great delight, that he could easily prise up the slab, raising it now a couple of inches before he lowered it down.

This was excellent, and the success of his project was far greater than he had anticipated; in fact, he had expected double the difficulty in loosening the stone.

"They are not much accustomed to having prisoners," he said, with a half-laugh, as he replaced the cutlass beneath the table. "Why, any fellow could get out of here."

Then, thinking that his remark in his self-communing was too conceited, he added:

"Down into the cellar or vaults; whether one could get out afterwards is another thing."

Returning to his stool, he worked away at the bread, steadily munching, finding the result quieting to his hungry pains, and also a kind of amusement to pass away the time till he felt that he might set to work in safety, for he did not mean to commence till nearly dusk.

As he expected, towards evening Allstone came again, not to bring more food, but to glance sharply round at the place and carefully scrutinise his prisoner as if looking for the missing sword.

Hilary looked straight before him, whistling softly the while in the most nonchalant manner, completely ignoring his visitor's presence, to the man's evident annoyance, his anger finding vent in a heavy bang of the door.

Hilary did not move for quite half an hour; then, all being perfectly still, and the evening shadows beginning to make his prison very dim, he rose with beating heart, listened, and all being silent as if there was not a soul within hearing, took the cutlass from its hiding-place, and proceeded to put his project in action.

Bending down, he once more swept aside the straw, and inserted the point of the sword, to find that this time there was more difficulty in his task, for he had to try several times, and in fresh positions, finding the cutlass bend almost to breaking-point, before success crowned his efforts, and he raised the stone sufficiently far to get his fingers beneath, and then the task was easy, for with a steady lift he raised one side and leaned it right up against the wall.

He had hardly accomplished this before he fancied he heard a slight noise outside, beneath the window, and the perspiration began to stand in a dew upon his face as he realised the fact that some one had just placed a ladder against the wall and was ascending to look in.

If the stone was seen upraised his chance of escape was at an end, and there was not a moment to spare, nor the slightest chance of closing it.

He glanced around, and, to his intense delight, noted that it was getting decidedly dark in the corner where he stood; but still detection seemed to be certain; and he had only one chance, that was—to throw himself down and pretend to be asleep.

This he did at once, breathing heavily, and lying perfectly motionless, but with his eyes wide open, and his ears strained to catch the slightest sound.

He was quite right; some one was ascending a short ladder placed by his window; and as he watched attentively he saw the opening suddenly darkened, and some man's face gazing straight in.

It was too dark now for him to distinguish the features, and he hoped that the obscurity would favour him by preventing the intruder from seeing what had been done.

It was a time of terrible suspense, probably only of a minute's duration, but it seemed to Hilary like an hour; and there he lay, with half-closed eyes, gazing at the head so dimly-seen, wondering whether it was Allstone, but unable to make out.

Just then a thought flashed through his brain.

Might it not be a friend?—perhaps a party from the Kestrel arrived in search of him; and, full of hope, he gazed intently at the head. But his hopes sank as rapidly as they had risen, for he was compelled to own that, if it had been a friend, he would have spoken or whistled, or in some way have endeavoured to catch his attention.

At last, wearied with straining his attention, Hilary felt that he must speak, when it seemed to him that the window grew a little lighter, and as he gazed there was a faint scratching noise, telling that the ladder had been removed.

He could bear it no longer, but, softly rising, he made for the window, climbed up, and gently raising his head above the sill, peered out, to be just able to distinguish a dark figure carrying a short ladder, which brushed against the branches of a tree, and then a low, husky cough, which he at once recognised, told him who his visitor had been.

"A contemptible spy!" muttered Hilary, as he dropped back into the chapel. "Now then, has he seen or has he not?"

If he had it was useless to lower down the slab, so Hilary let it stay, and waited minute after minute to see if he would come. But all remained perfectly still, and, to all appearance, the people who made the old place their rendezvous were now away.

Hilary was divided in his mind as to what he should do. To be precipitate might ruin his chance of getting away, while if he left it too long the smugglers might return, and his opportunity would again be gone. He decided, then, on a medium course—to wait, as far as he could judge, for half an hour, and then make his attempt.

Meantime he began to think of what course he should pursue when he was free, and it seemed that all he could do would be to strike inland at once, for that would be the safest plan. If he tried to reach the coast the chances were that he would encounter one of the gang, or at all events some cottager who would most probably be in their pay.

"The half-hour must be up now," he exclaimed; and, after listening at the door, he thrust the cutlass in his belt, and made for the hole formed by the raised flag.

"I wonder how far it is down?" he muttered. "Seven feet at the outside; and if I lower myself gently I shall be able to touch the floor, or perhaps I shall come down on some barrel or package."

As he spoke he lowered himself gently down, with a hand on either side of the aperture, and then, swinging his legs about, one of them kicked the side, showing that the cellar or vault was a little smaller in dimensions than the place above.

He lowered himself a little more, and a little more, his sea life having made the muscles of his arms as tough almost as iron, and at last, having a good hold of the stones on either side, he let himself steadily go down till his head was beneath the floor and he hung down at the full length of his hands.

"Deeper down than I thought for," he muttered, as he swung himself to and fro. "Shall I drop, or sha'n't I? It can't be above a foot; but somehow one don't like to let go of a certainty, to drop no one can tell where—perhaps on to bottles, or no one knows what."

He still swung in hesitation, for it seemed cowardly to go back, now he was so far down; but somehow the desire to be upon the safe side obtained the mastery, and he determined to go back.

Easier settled upon than done. His muscles were tough enough, but somehow his position was awkward, and his hold upon the stones so slight that, though he drew himself up twice, he did not get well above the opening till he managed to force one toe into the niche between a couple of the stones of the wall, when, by a sharp effort, he drew himself so far out of the hole that he was able to seat himself upon the edge, with his legs dangling down.

"What a lot of trouble I am taking!" he said, laughing lightly, though at the same time he felt discomposed. "I might just as well have dropped, but as I am up here again I may as well take soundings."

His plan of taking soundings was to fish out his ball of worsted, and, after a moment's thought, to tie it to the handle of the brown water-jug, and this he lowered softly down the hole.

"It's deeper down than I thought for," he said to himself, as he let the jug right down to the extent of the worsted thread, and then knelt down and reached as far as he could, but still without result.

"Stop a moment," he said, pulling out his piece of line, "it's lucky I didn't leave go. Why, that worsted's at least a dozen feet long."

As he spoke he tied the end of the worsted to his piece of cord, and let the jug down lower still, to the extent of the cord as well, quite five yards more.

"Phew!" he whistled, as, with the cord round his finger, he reached down as far as he could; "I should have had a drop! and—hang it, there goes the jug!"

For at that moment the string suddenly became light, the worsted having parted; and as he knelt there, peering down into the darkness, the perspiration started once more from his forehead, and a curious sensation, as of a comb with teeth of ice passing through his hair, affected him while he listened moment after moment, moment after moment, till there came up a dull whispering splash from below, at a distance that was perfectly horrifying after the risk that Hilary had run.

So overcome was he by his discovery that he shrank away from the opening in the floor completely unnerved, and unable for a time to move. He was, in fact, like one who had received a stunning blow, and only after some minutes had elapsed was he able to mutter a few words of thankfulness for his escape, as he now thoroughly realised that he had uncovered an old well of tremendous depth.



CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR.

A STRANGE FISH IN THE NET.

Hilary's first act on recovering himself was to creep back cautiously to the side, and lower down the stone over the open well, shivering still as he realised more fully the narrowness of his escape.

"Old Allstone will be wanting to know what I have done with his jug," he said, as he seated himself upon the stool, and began to think what he should do.

He was somewhat unnerved by his adventure, but recovering himself fast, and he had the whole night before him for making another attempt. All the same, though, the time wore on without his moving; for the recollection of that horrible whispering plash and the echoes that had smitten his ear were hard to get rid of, try how he would; but at last, feeling that he was wasting time, he began upon hands and knees creeping about the place, and tapping the floor.

There were plenty of hollow, echoing sounds in reply as he hammered away with the hilt of the cutlass, and, telling himself that there could not be wells beneath every stone, he made up his mind at last to try one which seemed to present the greatest facilities for his effort—that is, as far as he could tell by feeling the crack between it and the next.

It proved a long and a tough job before he could move it. Twice over he was about to give it up, for when at last he managed to make it move a little it kept slipping back into its place, and seeming to wedge itself farther in.

The perspiration ran down his cheeks, and his arms ached; but he was toiling for liberty, and on the nil desperandum principle he worked away.

For, as he thought matters over, he was compelled to own that, however much Lieutenant Lipscombe might feel disposed to search for him, he had been spirited away so suddenly that it was not likely that success would attend the search.

Under these circumstances there was nothing for it but that he should depend upon himself, and this he did to such a brave extent that at last he placed the point of the cutlass in so satisfactory a position that on heaving up the stone upon which he was at work it did not slip back, but was so much dislodged that a little farther effort enabled him to pull it aside; and then he sat down panting beside the black square opening in the floor.

It was so dark that most of his work had to be done by the sense of touch, and consequently the toil was twice as hard, for he could not see where it was best to apply force. All the same, though, perseverance was rewarded, and he had raised the stone.

Hilary did not feel in any great hurry to try his fortune this time; for after his experience when he raised the last stone, he did not know what might be here. Try to laugh it off as he would, there was a curious, creeping sensation of dread came over him. He knew that this was a chapel, and what more likely than that the vault beneath might be the abiding place of the dead—of those who had occupied this old place in the past; and, mingled with this, Adela's words would come back about the place being haunted.

"Bah!" he exclaimed at last. "What a fool you are, Hil!"

As he spoke he gave himself a tremendous blow in the chest with his doubled fist, hurting himself a great deal more than he intended, and this roused him once more to action.

He was not going to lower himself down this time without trying for bottom; and pulling out his cord, he tied it to the hilt of the cutlass, lowered it into the hole, and began to fish, as he expressed it.

Clang! Jingle!

Steel upon stone, as far as he could judge, just over six feet below where he was leaning over.

He tried again, here, there, and everywhere within his reach, and the result was always the same, and there could be no mistake this time; he might drop down in safety.

He could not help hesitation, for the hole was black and forbidding. But it was for liberty, and after pausing for a few moments while he leaned down and felt about as far as he could reach, he prepared to descend.

His examination had taught him that the vault below was arched, for, close by him, he could feel the thickness of the floor, while at the other side of the square opening he could not reach down to the edge of the arch, try how he would. In fact, his plan of sounding the floor had answered admirably, and he had raised a stone just in the right place.

Hesitating no longer he thrust the cutlass into his waistband and proceeded to lower himself down. His acts were very cautiously carried out, for his former experience had taught him care, and holding on tightly by the edge he gradually slid down, till at the full extent of his arms he felt firm footing.

Still he did not leave hold, but passing himself along first one edge and then another of his hole till he had gone along all four sides, and always with the same result, he let go, and stood in safety upon a stone floor.

Drawing his cutlass, he felt overhead the opening where the stone had been removed, and wondered what he was to do to find it again in the intense darkness; but he was obliged to own that he could do nothing.

A thrust to right touched nothing; a thrust to left had no better result; and then he stood and wiped his brow.

"I wonder what I shall find," he said to himself. "Cases and tubs, or old coffins."

He thrust out the sword once more straight in front of him, and this time it touched wood, and made him shiver.

For a few moments he did not care to move and investigate farther; but rousing himself once more, he tried again with his hand, to find that he touched hoops and staves, and that it was a goodly-sized tub.

He tried again, cautiously, feeling carefully with one foot before he attempted to move another, for the thought struck him that not very far from him the opening down into that terrible well must be yawning in the floor, and under these circumstances he moved most carefully.

He found that he need not have been so cautious, for after a little more of this obscure investigation he learned that he was in a very circumscribed area, surrounded on all sides by a most heterogeneous collection of tubs, full and empty, rough cases, bales, ropes, blocks, and iron tackle, such as might be used in a fishing-boat; and the next thing his hands encountered was a pile of fishing-nets.

It was as he had expected: the vault or cellar below the chapel was full of the stores belonging to the smugglers, and his task now was to find his way out.

It was of no avail to wish for flint and steel, to try, if only by the light of a few sparks, to dispel this terrible darkness, which seemed to surround and close him in, prisoning his faculties, as it were, and preventing him, now he had got so far, from making his escape.

There was always the dread of coming upon that terrible well acting like a bar to further progress. Then there was the utter helplessness of his position. Which way was he to go?

"At all events," he said to himself at last, "I can't go down the well if I'm climbing over tubs;" and he felt his way to the place where he had first touched a cask, and climbing up, he found that he could progress a little way, always getting higher, with many an awkward slip; and then he had to stop, for his head touched the roof.

A trial to right and left had no better result, and there was nothing for it but to return and begin elsewhere.

This he did, crawling over nets and boxes and packages, whose kind and shape he could not make out, but he always seemed to be stopped, try where he would, and at last, panting and hot with his exertions, he lay down on some fishing-nets close by to rest himself and endeavour to think out what was best to do.

Suddenly, and without the slightest warning, there was a heavy grating creak; a door was thrown open; and what to his eyes seemed to be a dazzling light shone into the place, revealing a narrow passage not ten feet from where he lay, but which he had passed over in the darkness again and again.

"Better light two or three more candles," said a gruff voice.

"All right," was the reply; and from just on the other side of a pile of merchandise that reached to the ceiling Hilary could hear some one blowing at the tindery fluff made by lighting the top of a fresh candle.