CHAPTER VII
The Cave in the Lonely Heath
The track was clearly defined, the sinister dark patches showingboldly upon the bright green grass with the utmost regularity. Theman had certainly fled in a north-easterly direction, towards BlackDown, the densest part of the forest. He had a start of at least sixhours, but, even had he not already swooned from loss of blood, thisadvantage was slight. In my enthusiasm I imagined that the rogue wasalready my prisoner, marching, with my piece at his head, towardsthe common jail at Lymington.
The tell-tale line of spots crossed the highway and led on to thegorse-clad heath, but though there were evidences that the fugitivehad blundered into many bushes in his flight in the dark, thegeneral direction remained the same. At this I wondered not alittle, for from my forest experience I knew that a man crossing anopen space in the dark would, without a light or other means toguide him, inevitably make a wide circle, unless he had the sense tokeep his course by observing the direction of the wind. Yet I knewthat after the storm the wind had died utterly away, so that thecircumstance seemed stranger still.
I suppose I had not gone half a mile when, thrown behind somebushes, I espied the picture that the rogue had cut from its frame.There were signs that he had made a lengthy halt, one being a largedark stain upon the damp soil, showing that much blood had beenspilled. Another thing I conjectured: he had discovered that thechart was not, as evidently he had imagined, part of the picture,and in his rage he had thrown it aside. That being so, it showedthat day had dawned ere he could have become acquainted with thefailure of his fell designs.
Making the canvas into a roll, I slipped it into my belt, andcontinued my way.
On and on I went, sometimes breaking into a run, keeping both asharp lookout in case of a surprise and a careful watch on the dullbrown track, which now began to show at greater intervals thanheretofore.
At length my progress was stopped by a narrow, gurgling stream thatflowed southwards between gravelly banks lined with bushes anddwarfed trees. This stream I knew to be the Lym, the same that joinsthe sea at Lymington.
Here I was thwarted, for though I took off my hose and shoes andwaded over the clayey bottom, not the slightest track could I findon the farther bank. I walked both up and down stream for nearly aquarter of a mile, carefully examining the soft clay, which wouldassuredly reveal any trace of footprints after the heavy rain of theprevious night; but the bank was innocent of any traces of humanagency, though I encountered well-defined marks of ponies, deer, andotters.
Sick at heart, I now bethought me of Captain Jeremy's warning, so,uncocking my piece, I shouldered the weapon and set my facehomewards. Bruno, who had followed the trail as keenly as I haddone, seemed to share my dejection, for, instead of keeping a fewpaces ahead as he had done on the outward journey, he stuck close tomy heels.
I was not returning by the same path, but rather, I should think,about two hundred yards to the right of it; yet with the smoke ofthe chimneys of Brockenhurst village to guide me I kept steadilyonwards.
Suddenly, almost before I could utter a sound of alarm, the groundgave way beneath me; the bracken and the gorse seemed to shoot uppast me, and the daylight gave place to semi-darkness.
Instinctively I clutched at the ledge of the pit, but without avail;then a thousand lights seemed to flash across my eyes, and I lostconsciousness.
When I recovered my senses I found myself lying on the sandy floorof a natural cave or hollow, into which the light filtered throughan aperture almost above my head--the hole through which I hadfallen.
My head throbbed painfully, and, putting my hands to my forehead, Ifound that it was bound with a wet rag. As I moved my arm Brunothrust his muzzle against my hand with a low bark of joy; thefaithful dog had evidently followed his master in his fall.
I tried to raise myself into a sitting posture, but the exertion wastoo great, and with a stifled exclamation of pain I fell back.
"Lie still, young maaester," exclaimed a gruff though kindly voice."You'll be safe enow wi' us."
"Give him a drink o' water," said another. "He'll do better sittin'up."
With that I felt myself raised and propped against the wall of thecave, so that I could look about.
Eight or ten men, dressed in rough clothing, some with peajackets,others in tarpaulins, were either seated on the ground or standingwith folded arms regarding me intently. Two or three had pistolsstuck in their belts, while a pair of heavy cutlasses and a bundleof stout staves, some with iron spikes, were placed in one corner ofthe cave, which was roughly three-sided, and formed by hands, as faras I could make out in the subdued light.
In the centre of the cavern was the trunk of a young tree, its upperportion leaning against the aperture overhead, while the brancheshad been lopped off sufficiently close to the stem to allow of thestumps being used as a rough ladder. Two small casks, an earthenwarevessel containing water, a heap of clothing, and a coil of ropecompleted the utensils of this subterranean retreat.
"You'll be the son of Cap'n Foul-weather Dick?" asked the man whohad first spoken.
"Yes," I replied, for my questioner had used the name by which myfather was frequently called by the seafaring population ofLymington.
"'Twas well for you I knew it, for when you came tumbling down thathole we thought 'twas the sogers, and Bill 'ere got ready to knockyou over th' head. D'ye know me?"
I looked at the man as intently as my throbbing head would allow,then at his companions. Like an inspiration a thought flashed acrossmy mind.
"Yes," I answered. "Ye are the men who went with Captain Miles tothe West."
"Aye," said the man referred to as Bill, "an' well we know it. Look'ee, young maaester, can we trust ye to keep your mouth shut on thisbusiness?"
"I have as weighty a matter on my mind now," I replied. "You cancount upon my silence."
"The youngster's true enow, 'Enery," said Bill. "Maybe he'll lend usa hand afore long. Look you," he continued, addressing me, "thereare but eleven left of the score of Lymington men who marched tohelp the Duke o' Monmouth. Kitt Binns, Carrol Tanner, Cripps, FredDadge--they went down in the fight; young Garge Pitman thered-coated devils took near Bridgwater. They strung him up on agallows at the roadside. Poor fellow, he didn't half give 'em arough time afore they did the dirty job, an' I was up to my neck ina ditch an' saw it all, yet couldn't bear a hand to help him. Thatmakes five. What happened to the rest of us we don't know--taken,doubtless, after the fight. Anyways, Cap'n Miles, Joe Scott, SammyCross, an' Long Bristowe won't see Lymington again, I fear, thoughwe aren't much better off on that score."
"Captain Miles!" I exclaimed. "Why!----" I broke off, thoughreasoning that as these men had confided in me, there was littleharm in telling them of Captain Jeremy's hiding-place in our house.
"What of him?" asked several of the men.
"He is alive and well; I saw him scarce two hours ago."
"Hurrah!" exclaimed the men, but softly, for they durst not shoutlest the noise should betray them.
"Alive and well, say you?" repeated 'Enery, a burly, bearded seamanwho, it seemed, had no other name. "'Enery" he answered to, and'Enery he remains till the close of my story. "But, young maaester,'tis a good six hours you've been lying 'ere."
"Six hours!" I exclaimed amazedly; then, remembering my father'scondition, I attempted to rise.
"Nay, young sir," said Bill, noticing my effort, "you cannot go homewithout aid, and none can we give till Black Lewis comes. Butconcerning Captain Jeremy?"
In a few words I told them all I knew of the Captain's adventures,the men eagerly following every word.
"Tell him," said 'Enery, as I finished my story, "that ten stanchmen await him here. Cooped up like rats in a hold, we durst not showour faces in Lymington, much less try for a ship; but with Cap'nJeremy to lead us, we'll shape a true course yet. Tell him also----"
A low cry like the call of a forest stag for its mate broke upon ourears. Twice 'twas repeated.
"'Tis Black Lewis
," said one of the men, for my information, and thenext instant the bushes overhead were thrust back, and a man beganto descend the rough ladder.
Black Lewis gave no sign of surprise at seeing a lad in the cave. Iknew him by sight, and also by repute--a short, shrivelled-up littleman, with a head that seemed too large and heavy for his body,wrinkled face, massive and protruding cheek bones, andsandy-coloured hair. He lived mainly by his wits, killing addersthat infested the forest glades, hawking the skins of animals hecaught, and, no doubt, poaching, though he had as yet managed toescape being branded as a felon. Some would have it that he wasdullwitted, yet those who thus avowed had often cause to fear histongue, which was as sharp as a rapier. He was dressed in loose,home-made garments of moleskin, and carried a long forked stick inhis hand, not even relinquishing it when he descended the treetrunk. Over his back was strung a canvas bag, from which he produceda hare, some eggs, and a flagon of ale.
He readily consented to assist me to my home, and having badefarewell to the refugee seamen (who had persuaded me to lend them myfowling-piece), I was slung up the shaft by means of the rope, Brunobeing carried up on the shoulders of one of the men. Once in theopen air I walked strongly, though twice or thrice I reeled, andwould have fallen but for my companion's assistance.
At the entrance to our grounds Black Lewis left me, and just as Igained the door Captain Jeremy met me. By the look on his face Iknew that some thing was amiss.
"They have searched for you high and low, Master Clifford," said he;"but thanks be you are safe! Come at once and see your father,for----"
"He is not dead?" I asked anxiously.
"Nay, lad, but be prepared for the worst. Master Blackwood sayshe'll not last the night. If so, he'll pass away before the youngflood sets in."