Kilgorman Part 17

So I lay low till the road was clear, and then struck north for Fanad, where I knew nooks and crannies enough to keep me hid, if need be, for a month to come.

For a week I lodged uncomfortably enough in one of the deep caves that pierce the coast, which at high tide was unapproachable except by swimming, and at low so piled up with sea-weed at its mouth as to seem only a mere hole in the cliff. Here, on a broad ledge high beyond reach of the tide, I spent the weary hours, living for the most part on sea- weed, or a chance crab or lobster, cooked at a fire of bracken or hay, collected at peril of my life in the upper world.

Once as I peeped out I saw a boat cruising along the sh.o.r.e, and discovered in one of its crew no other than he who had acted as leader of the gathering of a week ago. So near did they come that I could even hear their voices.

"You're wastin' your time, captain, over a spalpeen like that. Sure, if he's alive he's far enough away by this time."

The leader turned to the speaker and said,--

"If I could but catch him he would not travel far again. Was there no news of him at Knockowen?"

"'Deed no; only lamenting from the ladies when his empty boat came ash.o.r.e."

Then they pa.s.sed out of hearing, never even looking my way. At last, when I judged they had abandoned the pursuit for a time and were returned to Rathmullan, I ventured out on to the headland, and one day even dared to walk as far as to the old cabin at Fanad.

It had become a ruin since I saw it last. The winter's winds had lifted the thatch, and the wall on one side had tumbled in. There was no sign of the old life we lived there. The little window from which the guiding light had shone so often was fallen to pieces. Even the friendly hearth within was filled with earth and rubbish.

I left it with a groan; it was like a grave. As I wandered forth, turning my way instinctively to the old landing-place, a flash of oars over the still water (it was a day of dead calm) sent my heart to my mouth. The place was so desolate that even this hint of life startled me. Who could it be that had found me out here?

Quick as thought I dropped on my hands and knees and crawled in among the thick bracken at the path-side. There was one place I remembered of old where Tim and I had often played--a deep sort of cup, grown full of bracken, and capped by a big rock, which to any one who did not know it seemed to lie flat on the soil. Hither I darted, and only just in time, for the boat's keel grated on the stones as I slipped into cover.

I peered out anxiously and as best I could without showing myself. By their footsteps and voices there were two persons. And when they came nearer, and I caught a momentary glance as they climbed the path to the cabin, I recognised in one of them the face of one of my late captors.

Whether they were here after me or on some other mischief I could not guess. But I hid low, as you may fancy.

Then a sudden thought came to me. The boat was down at the pier. Why should I stay where I was, hunted like a partridge, while across the lough I should at least be no worse off, and have seven clear miles of water between me and my pursuers? Now was my time if ever. Besides-- and once more I think I blushed, even under the bracken--on the other side of the lough was my little Lady Kit.

So while the two men walked up the steep path to the cabin I slipped from my hiding-place and ran down to the boat. And a minute later I was clear of the land, with my bows pointing, as they had pointed so often before, for the grim turrets of Kilgorman.

CHAPTER TWELVE.

HOW I JOINED THE GOOD s.h.i.+P "ARROW."

It was a still, sultry afternoon, and as I lay on my oars half-a-mile from sh.o.r.e I made up my mind I had little help to look for from the breezes; nor, as the tide was then running, could I afford to drift. I must row steadily, unless I wished to find myself out in the open, without supplies, before nightfall. However, that was no great hards.h.i.+p, and after my idle week in the cave I was glad enough (had my stomach only been a little less empty!) of a little hard work.

Whether the two men whose boat I had borrowed discovered their loss sooner or later I do not know to this day. But they might have left me a handier craft. I knew her of yore, an old Rathmullan tub, useful enough to ferry market women across to Inch, but ill-suited for a single rower on a windless sea.

For all that I was glad enough to have her, and feel myself once more my own master.

I would fain have put her head to Knockowen had I dared. But there I knew I could not look for safety. His honour, no doubt thankful to be allowed to consider me dead, would resent my return, and a way would soon be had of handing me over to the League, who by this time were in hue and cry to have my life. Martin, fool as he was, could be trusted to see to that business, while his honour received the compliments of his brother magistrates on his loyalty and sacrifices.

No; if I landed anywhere it must be at Kilgorman, where I should hardly be looked for, or if I was, should possibly pa.s.s for one of the ghosts of the place.

It was a dark night, without even a moon, before the distant light of Knockowen far up the lough showed me I must be coming within reach of my destination. A little breeze was now coming in from the open, which would, did I only dare to take it, carry me to my little lady's side in less than an hour. Alas, it was not for me! and I pulled toilfully on.

It was not without some groping that at last I found the little creek into which the _Cigale_ was wont to creep on her secret visits; and here at last, worn-out with fatigue and hunger, and still more with care, I ran my boat and landed.

What to do next I hardly knew. Food was what I needed most; after that, sleep; and after that, safety. It seemed as if I was to sup off the last, which was poor comfort to an empty stomach. I felt my way as quietly as I could up the track which led from the creek, and found myself presently on the cliff above, close to my dear mother's grave. I might as well sleep here as anywhere else, and when they found me dead in the morning they would not have far to carry me.

Was I turning coward all of a sudden--I, who had looked down the barrel of a gun a week ago and not quailed? The gleam of the white cross on the Gormans' tomb made me start and s.h.i.+ver. I seemed to hear footsteps in the long gra.s.s, and detect phantom lights away where the house was.

Presently I felt so sure that I heard steps that I could stay where I was no longer, and hurried back by the way I had come towards the boat.

Then gathering myself angrily together, and equally sure I had heard amiss, I turned back again and marched boldly up towards Kilgorman House.

Whether it was desperation or some inward calling, I know not, but my courage rose the nearer I came. What had I to fear? What worse could happen to me in the house of my birth than out here on the pitiless hillside?

Even when I found the avenue-gate locked and barred I did not repent.

It was easily climbed.

Soon I came under the grim walls, and, as if to greet me, a wandering ray of the moon came out and fell on the window above the hall-door. It even surprised me how little fear I felt as I now hauled myself up by the creepers and clambered on to the porch. But here my triumph reached its limit.

The window this time was closely barred. His honour had no doubt guessed how, on my former visits, I had found entrance, and had taken this means to thwart my next. No shaking or pulling was of any avail.

Kilgorman, by that way at least, was una.s.sailable.

Yet I was not to be thwarted all at once. My courage, I confess, was a little daunted as I clambered down to earth, and proceeded to feel my way carefully round the house for some more likely entry. But entry there was none. Every window and door was fast. The moonlight, which swept fitfully over the stagnant swamp, struck only on sullen, forbidding walls, and the breeze, now fast rising, moaned round the eaves to a tune which sent a shudder through my vitals.

My courage seemed to die away with it. But I determined to make one more round of the walls before I owned myself beaten. I tried the bar of every window. One after another they resisted stiffly, till suddenly I came on one (that below the room where I had found the strange relic of my mother months ago) which yielded a little in my hand, and seemed to invite me to test it again. The second time it gave more, and after a while, being eaten through with rust, it broke off.

The bars on either side of it proved equally yielding, and though some cost more trouble than others, I succeeded in about half-an-hour in breaking away sufficient to effect an entrance. The window behind the bars was easily forced, and once more I found myself standing inside Kilgorman.

It would be a lie to say that I felt no fears. Indeed every step I took along the dark pa.s.sage helped to chill my blood, and long before I had reached the door of the great kitchen I wished myself safe outside again.

But shame, and the memory of that pathetic message from my dead mother, held me to my purpose. And, as if to encourage me, the candle stood where I had found it once before on the little ledge, and beside it, to my astonishment, a small crust of bread. It must have stood there a week, and was both stale and mouldy. But to my famis.h.i.+ng taste it was a repast for a king, and put a little new courage into me.

It surprised me to find the great apartment once again crowded with arms, stacked all along the sides and laid in heaps on the centre of the floor. What perplexed me was not so much the arms themselves as the marvel how those that brought them entered and left the house.

But just now I had no time for such speculations. I was strung up to a certain duty, and that I must perform, and leave speculation for later.

My mother's letter, if it meant anything, meant that I was to seek for something below or behind the great hearth; and as I peered carefully round it with my candle I could not help recalling the ghost which Tim and I had both heard, years ago, advance to this very spot and there halt.

Save the deep recess of the fireplace itself, there was no sign above or below of any hiding-place. The flagstones at my feet were solid and firm, and the bricks on either side showed neither gap nor crack. I pushed the candle further in and stepped cautiously over the crumbled embers into the hollow of the deep grate itself.

As I did so a blast from above extinguished the light, and at the same moment a sound of footsteps fell on my ear, not this time from the outer pa.s.sage, but apparently from some pa.s.sage on the other side of the wall against which I crouched.

I felt round wildly with my hands for the opening by which I had entered. Instead of that I found what felt like a step in the angle of the wall, and above it another. An instinct of self-preservation prompted me to clamber up here, and ensconce myself on a narrow ledge in the chimney, some six feet above the level of the ground.

Here I waited with beating heart as the footsteps came nearer. I could judge by the sound that they belonged not, like the last I had heard, to a wandering woman, but to two men, advancing cautiously but with set purpose, and exchanging words in whispers.

Presently, to my amazement, a ray of light shot through the blackness of the recess below me, followed by a creaking noise as a part of the floor of the hearth swung slowly upwards, and revealed to my view a dimly-lit, rocky pa.s.sage below, slanting downwards, and leading, as I could judge by the hollow sound that came through it, towards the sh.o.r.e of the lough.

I could now understand how it came that a house so closely barred and bolted was yet so easily frequented. And, indeed, the whole mystery of the smuggled arms became clear enough.

The two men who now clambered up, carrying a lantern, which illuminated the whole of the recess, and (had they only thought of looking up) the very ledge on which I sat, were sailors; and in one I recognised the foreign-looking fellow who, years ago, had commanded the _Cigale_ and attended my mother's wake. I knew from what I had overheard at his honour's that, since my father had given himself up to the smuggling of arms, and received charge of the _Cigale_, this worthy fellow had left, that s.h.i.+p and devoted himself to the more perilous occupation of robbing his Majesty's subjects indiscriminately on the high seas. His companion was evidently, by his villainous looks, a desirable partner in the same business.

"I told you so," said the latter, turning his lantern into the room.

"Guns enough for a regiment. Luck for us."

"We have room enough for the lot," growled the Frenchman in pretty plain English. "Monsieur Gorman shall find that two can play at one game. He smuggles the guns in in the _Cigale_, I smuggle them out in the _Arrow_.