Mark bathed the sufferer’s face again, but there was no return to consciousness, and growing more and more alarmed, he hurried to his father’s chamber and woke him, Sir Edward as he leaped up, still dressed, snatching eagerly at his sword. “You, Mark?” he cried. “The enemy?”
“Yes—no, father. Come quickly. Young Darley’s here, dying.”
“Young Darley here!”
“Yes, in my room,” cried Mark wildly. “I’ve sent for Master Rayburn, but come and do something; we mustn’t let the poor fellow die.”
And in a wild incoherent way, he told Sir Edward all he knew.
“Then in their disappointment they went on down there,” cried Sir Edward, as excited now as his son. “The fiends! the monsters!” he continued, as he entered his son’s room. “Poor boy! Oh, Mark, lad, but for God’s mercy, this might have been you. Oh! who can think about the old family enmity now? How long is it since you sent for old Rayburn?”
“Ever so long, father. Oh, I say, don’t—don’t say you think he’ll die, father!”
“Heaven forbid, my boy,” said Sir Edward softly, and he laid his hand gently on the wounded lad’s brow—and kept it there as Master Rayburn entered the room.
“You’ve heard, then!” he cried, throwing down his hat and stick, and beginning to examine his patient.
“Yes, Mark tells me. Is it all true?”
“True, yes,” growled Master Rayburn. “I find they attacked you, were beaten, and then went across and round by the down to Cliff Castle. When I got there it was in ashes, burnt out, and the wretches had gone back with what plunder they could save, and two prisoners to their den.”
“Two prisoners?”
“Yes—put your finger here, Mark, while I clip off his hair. Here’s a bad cut—Sir Morton badly hurt, and his sweet young child, Minnie.”
“Oh!” cried Sir Edward excitedly. “But is this true—are you sure?”
“I had it from one of his men, Nick Garth. Badly wounded too. But he and three others broke out of their window where they were prisoned, in a tower chamber, and out of revenge, to keep the enemy from keeping the place, as they were going to do, they set it on fire.”
“Who did?” said Sir Edward sharply.
“Nick Garth and Ram Jennings. He’s wounded too. A fine chance for you now, Eden. You can march in and take possession of your enemy’s lands.”
“I’ll march in and take possession of that cursed den that my boy here tried to take, and failed,” raged out Sir Edward. “Mark, we can do nothing here. Off with you, and muster every man we have. I can’t show mercy now. Tell Daniel Rugg to get ready an ample supply of powder and fuses, and I’ll blow up the hornets’ nest, and let them stifle where they lie. Rayburn, you’ll stay with this poor lad; and Heaven help you to save his life.”
“Amen,” said Master Rayburn softly.
“His father—his sister—carried off by these demons,” muttered Sir Edward, and seizing his son’s arm, he hurried with him to give his orders himself.
Mark Eden followed his father, feeling half stunned. The one thought which seemed to stand out clear above a tangle of others, all blurred and muddled, in his brain, was that these troubles—the attack on the Black Tor, and the hundred times more terrible one upon Cliff Castle—were caused by him. Certainty Ralph Darley had something to do with it, but he was badly wounded and out of the question now, so that he, Mark Eden, must take all the blame.
Then, too, he could not understand his own acts. It all seemed so absurd, just such a confused sequence of events as would take place in a dream, for him to be listening to Ralph’s appeal for help, and to begin pitying him, his natural enemy, feeling toward him as if he were his dearest friend; and then, with his heart burning with rage against those who had injured him and his, to follow his father, panting to get ready an expedition whose object was to drive Captain Purlrose and his murderous, thieving crew off the face of the earth.
That was not the greatest puzzle which helped to confuse Mark Eden, for there was his father’s conduct, so directly opposed to everything which had gone before; but at last, after fighting with his confusion for some time, his head grew clearer, and he drew a long deep breath.
“I know how it is,” he said to himself, with a curious smile, mingled of pleasure and pain; “the old trouble’s dead. This business has killed it, and I’m jolly glad.”
“Mark, boy,” said his father just then, and it seemed to the lad that his father must have been thinking and feeling in a similar way, “I daresay you think my conduct strange, after all the teachings of the past, but nature is sometimes stronger than education, and after what has taken place we must, as English gentlemen, forget all old enmity, and behave toward the Darleys as—as—as—”
“I’m sure Ralph and his father would have behaved towards us, if we had been in such a terrible state.”
“Yes, my boy—thank you—exactly,” cried Sir Edward, with a sigh of relief. “I was afraid you would think it half mad and strange of me to be doing this, when—when you see we could go over and take possession of the Darley’s place, and hold it for our own.”
“But we couldn’t now, father,” cried Mark. “If it had been a challenge, and we had gone and attacked them, and conquered, it would have been grand, but the Edens couldn’t go and fight wounded men—hit people when they are down.”
“No, my boy,” said Sir Edward firmly; “the Edens could not do that.”
A busy day followed, with the men collected in a state of the wildest excitement, those who had been wounded in the attack upon the cavern and the bitter encounter between the allies for the most part declaring their readiness to bear arms again.
“But you’re not fit, Dan,” said Mark, as he stood talking to the head miner.
“Not fit, Master Mark?” cried the sturdy old fellow, showing his teeth; “I’m going to show that gang of murderous wolves that I am very fit indeed. My arm won’t go very well, and I turn a bit sick and swimming whenever I turn my head.”
“Then you mustn’t go,” cried Mark.
“Mustn’t, Master Mark,” said the man grimly, “but I must. The lads’ll fight as well again with me there. And look here: I won’t use my right hand, and I won’t turn my head; so I shall be all right, and I’m not going to fight.”
“Then what is the use of your coming?”
The man half shut one eye.
“Powder!” he whispered—“powder. You know what that will do, eh?”
“Yes, you can manage that, Dan,” said Mark thoughtfully.
“Better than any one else, my lad, and that aren’t boasting. Look here, Master Mark; I’ve been having it over with the lads, and we all think the same. The Darleys are about as bad a lot as ever stepped, and they’ve done us a lot o’ wrong, and deserved all we could give ’em, but they aren’t deserved this, and we are going to forgive ’em a bit. Who’s going to stand still and see a lot o’ ragged rapscallions come and attack our enemies, and try to take that castle? It aren’t to be borne, Master Mark; now is it?”
“No, Dan, it is not to be borne.”
“Right, sir. I’ve heered everything now: how they’d took the castle, and was wineing and beering theirselves, and going to stop there, when Nick Garth—ah! I do mort’ly hate that fellow—sets fire to the place, and burns ’em out. Makes me feel as if I could half forgive him all old scores. My pick! It was a fine idea.”
“A grand idea, Dan.”
“And don’t you see, Master Mark, as they missed getting Cliff Castle, they’ll just wait their time, and catch us napping, and get this place.”
“Never,” cried Mark hotly.
“Never, it is, Master Mark. Me and the lads’ll blow the old place up first.”
“Mark, my boy,” cried Sir Edward just then; “here, I want you.”
The lad hurried to his father’s side, and a strong hand was clapped upon his shoulder, Sir Edward looking him full in the face, but with his eyes thoughtful and fixed.
“No,” he said suddenly, “they could not think that if you go alone.”
“Who, father? Where?” said Mark, staring.
“I’ve been thinking, boy,” said Sir Edward. “We can make up a good muster, but we ought to be as strong as we can, and it is only right to give Sir Morton’s poor fellows who are left a chance of striking a blow for their master and young mistress. Would you mind riding over to the enemy’s camp, and asking all who can to come and join us in our expedition this evening?”
“Mind? No, father: I should like to.”
“Then go at once.”
“Yes, father.”
“And bring back with you all you can. If it’s only four or five sturdy fellows, it is worth while; and I hope they will be willing to come under my command—no, this will be better: ask them if they will follow you.”
“I think I can bring them,” cried Mark, flushing.
“Then off. Tell them we have plenty of arms.”
Mark hurried away, gave Dummy orders to saddle the cob, and ran in and up to his own room, whose door he opened softly, to start in surprise on finding a nurse assisting Master Rayburn, and seated by the head of the bed, fanning the heated brow of the poor disfigured lad, as he lay muttering in delirium.
“You here, Mary,” said Mark, in a sharp whisper.
“Of course she is, boy,” cried the old man testily. “Woman’s place—and girls grow to women—look finer than a queen on a throne, seated by a sick-bed.”
“Yes,” assented Mark. “How is he?”
“Couldn’t be worse,” said Master Rayburn. “There, go and beat the dogs, and if one of them bites you, we’ll make up another bed, and nurse you too; won’t we, Mary?”
“Oh, no, no, Mark dear; don’t, pray don’t you get hurt,” whispered the girl wildly.
“He won’t get hurt much,” said Master Rayburn. “Come to stay?”
“No,” said Mark, as he made the old man’s eyes twinkle by going on tip-toe to the bedside, and gently taking Ralph’s right hand which he held for a few moments, and then laid it back.
“Needn’t put it down in such a hurry, boy,” whispered the old man. “Didn’t hurt you, did it?”
“Poor fellow! No,” sighed Mark. “But I must go. Father has ordered me to go down the river to the Cliff, to try and get all the Darley men together to come and help in the attack.”
“What!” cried Master Rayburn; “Sir Edward has told you to do that?”
“Yes,” said Mark, flushing hotly. “Well, what have you to say to it?”
“Nothing,” said the old man softly; “only, boy, that I wish you God speed.”
There was the clatter of hoofs heard through the open window, and Mark hurriedly kissed his sister.
“I’ll take care,” he said, smiling.
“But the Darley men may attack you, Mark,” she whispered excitedly.
“I’m not afraid,” he said, laughing. “Don’t let Ralph Darley die, Master Rayburn; he isn’t such a bad fellow after all.”
“Bah! Bad, indeed,” said the old man, pressing Mark’s arm, and looking at him proudly, “Deal better fellow than you.”
The next minute Mark leaped into the saddle, and the restive cob began to rear.
“Take me with you, Master Mark,” said Dummy, as he held the rein.
“Can’t! Must go alone, Dum. You come by my side to-night.”
“Got to carry bags of powder.”
“Well, I shall be there.”
“But s’pose the Darleys fight you, Master Mark?”
“They will not, Dummy,” cried Mark. “Let go.”
And pressing the cob’s sides, the little animal bounded over the narrow bridge, and would have galloped in a break-neck fashion down the steep zigzag but for the strong hand at the rein.
The pony had its own way, though, along the rough track by the river, on past Master Rayburn’s peaceful cottage, and away again, till at a bend of the stream the rider saw a cloud of smoke hanging over the ravens’ cliff, and soon after caught sight of one corner of the castle, with the glorious beeches and sycamores low down, and birches high up, scorched and shrivelled; and now he saw through an alley burned by the flames driven downward by the wind that the beautiful old pile was reduced to a shell, in whose interior the smoke was still rising from a heap of smouldering wood.
As he drew nearer, and crossed the ford which led to the steep path up, he saw on one of the terrace platforms quite a crowd of women and children, collected from the outlying cottages and farms, all standing gazing at the smoking ruins; and on one side there was a little group of men, some standing, others sitting and lying down upon the stones.
“And if it had not been for Dummy our place might have been like this,” thought Mark, as he rode up. The men, as they caught sight of him, began to rise to their feet, two or three actively, the others as if in pain, but all wearing a savage scowl.
But Mark did not shrink. He rode right past the women, and drew rein, as Nick Garth said fiercely:
“Well, youngster, have you come to enjoy’s morning’s work?”
“What have I ever done to make you think me such a cowardly brute, Nick Garth?” said Mark boldly; as the others uttered a menacing growl. “Well,” he continued, “is that all you have to say? What about your young master?”
The man’s face was convulsed by a spasm, and he turned away, pointing the while at the smoking ruins.
“What does he mean by that?” said Mark to another of the men.
“They killed him,” said the man hoarsely. “Burned, poor lad! In yonder.”
“No, no,” cried Mark excitedly. “He escaped, and came up to us—to ask for help.”
“The young master?” cried Nick, turning back to look at the speaker fiercely; “why, I see him cut down with my own eyes.”
“I tell you, he crawled out of the fire. He’s badly wounded and burned, but he’s lying in my room, with Master Rayburn by his side.”
“Say that again—say that again, youngster!” cried Nick Garth, as he caught Mark fiercely by the hand, and thrust his blood-smeared and blackened face close to him.
“There is no need,” said Mark. “He is very bad, but he was able to ask us for help.”
A wild hurrah! burst from the men, even the worst wounded waving their hands, as they crowded round the startled pony, which began to rear, and tried to unseat his rider.
“Quiet!” cried Mark, patting the spirited little animal’s neck, and as soon as it was quiet, turning to the object of his mission.
“Now,” he said, “my father starts this evening to crush out this gang of miscreants and rescue Sir Morton and your young lady. We have plenty of swords and pikes, and I have come to ask as many of you as can strike a blow to join us.”
“Is this a trap, young gen’leman, to make an end of us now we’re weak and down?”
“Look in my eyes, Nick Garth,” said Mark, gazing straight at the sullen lowering face. “The Edens are gentlemen, not such vile cowards as that. Now then, who’ll come and strike a blow for Sir Morton, your young lady, and Master Ralph Darley, lying helpless there?”
“All on us, my lad,” cried Nick, with a fierce growl—“all on us as can manage to crawl.”
“Ay,” rose in a shout.
“It’s all right, lads,” continued Nick; “the young gen’leman means what he says. No one could be such a hound as to come down upon us now. I says it’s right, sir. We trust you, and if you’ll give us your hand like a man-like an Englishman should—we’ll come.”
Mark’s hand went out, and his handsome young face shone with the glow that was at his heart, as he gripped the grimy blackened hand extended to him.
He held on tightly, and then gazed wonderingly at the man, whose face turned of a very ashy hue, and he caught at the pony’s mane to save himself from falling.
“What is it?” cried Mark eagerly; “you are faint!”
“Got my hand brent a bit, young master,” said the man, recovering himself with a forced laugh. “Better now.”
He drew back, and limped a little.
“But you are badly hurt. I’ll get Master Rayburn to run down.”
“Nay. We’ll come up to him. Let him stop with the young master.”
“You are not fit to come.”
“What! Not to have a stroke at them devils?” cried the man fiercely. “I’m a-coming, and so’s all as can walk. I’d come if it was half a hour ’fore I was going to die. I did try to burn ’em where they were drinking together, on’y I was in too great a hurry. I ought to ha’ waited till they was asleep.”
Mark shuddered slightly, but he said no more, and proceeded to examine the men, all of whom, to the number of seven, declared themselves fit to come.
But, including Nick, there were only five really fit to bear arms; the rest had unwillingly to give up. Still, there were three quite uninjured, and these would, Mark felt, be a valuable addition to the little force at home, for they were burning to try and do something to help Sir Morton in his terrible strait; and even the women wished to join. But this was declared impossible, and soon after, feeling the strangeness of his position, Mark was riding back with his recruits.
Five minutes later, he cried, “Halt!” and sprang from his pony.
“Here, Garth,” he cried, “I can’t ride and see you limp along with that wounded leg.”
“Can’t help my leg being hurt, young sir,” cried the man sourly. “I won’t go back, so there!”
“I don’t want you to; I want you to strike for your master; but you are lame. There: up with you. Master Rayburn will make you better able to walk when we get to the Tor.”
“What, me ride on your pony?” said the man, staring.
“Yes: up, and don’t lose time.”
The man refused again and again, till Mark cried fiercely:
“You said you’d follow me, and I’m in command. Up this minute, sir;” and the man climbed into the saddle.
It was in this fashion that Mark Eden led the Darley men up the zigzag, and into the inner court of the Black Tor, where his father’s followers welcomed them with a hearty cheer, for, enemies they might be, but those assembled felt that they were stricken sore.
There had been plenty going on in Mark’s absence of an hour or two, and as soon as he had seen the recruits to their little force settled down in the hall to rest and refresh, he hastened up to Master Rayburn to find how his patient was going on. “Badly, Mark, boy,” said the old man; “very badly. He has been wounded in the mind as well as body. The best remedy for him will be the knowledge that his father and sister are safe. Well, what fortune in your mission?”
“That’s good in two ways,” he said, as soon as he had heard Mark’s account; “strengthens your hands, and sounds as if the people are getting as wise as their masters.”
Mark did not wish to discuss that subject, for it was irksome to him at a time when he felt that he did not know whether the Darleys and he were enemies or friends, his thoughts going toward the former as being the more natural in connection with the past.
Under these circumstances, he hurried away, descended, and found his father superintending the repair of the gate which defended the castle by the bridge. The piping times of peace had caused carelessness, and this gate had been so neglected that Purlrose and his men had had no difficulty in levering it off the pivots, and gaining an entrance.
Sir Edward was determined not to be caught sleeping again, for sentinels had been posted, and various means taken for strengthening the place. As for the damage to the great doors of the hall, these had already been covered with stout boarding, and missiles in the shape of heavy stones and pigs of lead were piled up on the platform of each tower.
Under Dan Rugg’s supervision, arquebuses had been cleaned and placed ready for use, and a couple of small cannon trained where they could sweep the approach to the bridge, and in turn the gateways leading into the outer and inner courts.
Sir Edward expressed himself as being highly pleased with his son’s success; and, treating him in this emergency as if he were a man, he joined him in the little council of war that was held with Dan Rugg. In this the best way of proceeding was discussed, and it was determined that instead of waiting for the darkness, the attacking party should set off early in the evening.
For old Dan had said: “It’s no use to think of trying to surprise them now, master; they’ll be well on the look out for us, and have men ready. Means a sharp bit of fighting to get up to the hole yonder, but once we get there, the powder will fight for us.”
“You mean to fire some at the entrance?” said Mark.
“Ay, Master Mark; that’s it, and then send another bag in before us, and fire that, and go on doing it till we’ve either blasted ’em all out of the place or made ’em so sick and sorry that they’ll cry surrender.”
The hours glided by, as it seemed to Mark, very slowly, till the time appointed for starting approached; and, after a final glance at Ralph, he was coming down, when Master Rayburn followed him.
“I should like to come with you, Mark, my boy,” he said gravely, “but my place is here. Heaven grant that you may be successful; and if you are,” he said meaningly, “there will be peace in our vale.”
Mark pressed his hand, buckled on his sword, and went down into the yard to join his father, who was giving final instructions to the wounded men about keeping the gates fast during their absence, not that an attack was expected, but “to make assurance doubly sure.”
While he was giving his last instructions, Dummy came running over the bridge, and trotted up to Sir Edward.
“Well, boy, could you see anything?”
“Yes,” replied Dummy, with a sharp nod of the head. “You can see two, if you go far enough, one on each side of the hill, keeping a look out.”
“Did they see you?”
“Nay, I was a-creeping among the bushes.”
“Then it is of no use to try and get up unobserved, Mark,” said Sir Edward, quietly. “It must be a bold open attack.”
He turned and said a few words to Sir Morton Darley’s men, Nick and the rest, after having had their injuries tended, and a few hours’ rest and refreshment, looking far better prepared for the encounter, and falling into their places with sullen determination.
Mark, at a word from his father, marched up alongside of Nick Garth, who gave him a surly nod, and seemed to be about to speak, but checked himself, and then let his curiosity master him.
“What ha’ they got in them baskets?” he said, nodding to a couple strung from poles, and each hanging from two men’s shoulders, “bread and cheese?”
“No: blasting-powder.”
“Eh? What for?” said the man, staring.
“Blow out the cavern,” said Mark quietly.
The man uttered a low long whistle, and then a grim smile covered his face.
“Hah!” he whispered, “that does a man good, young Eden! I was coming, and I meant to fight till I dropped; but after what we tried to do, I knew they’d be too many for us; but I begin to see my way now.”
“Yes, they don’t like the powder,” said Mark. “We made them run with it when they attacked us here.”
“What, did they ’tack you here?”
“Yes, and were beaten off, and came down to you.”
“Well, it wasn’t very neighbourly to send ’em down to us,” said the man sourly.
“You should have beaten them off, and sent them back again,” said Mark, smiling.
Then the order to march came, and the little band of sturdy men went off at a solemn tramp, Dummy carrying a couple of lanterns and a box slung from his shoulder, well supplied with torches, candles, and slow match, for the powder which it did not fall to his lot to bear.
As they passed over the bridge, the wounded men clanged to the gates, and two of them took their places on the tower above, while, as the party tramped across and turned to descend the zigzag, a thought came to Mark, and he turned back to glance at the window of his bed-chamber, as he wished that Ralph Darley were uninjured and marching by his side to help in the rescue of his father and sister.
There were two faces at the casement: those of Mary and Master Rayburn; and as the lad descended the slope they waved their hands to him. The next minute the cliff-side hid them from view.
The march in the calm bright evening was uneventful. Everything was so beautiful that it seemed hard to realise the horrors which had taken place during the past night, till Mark looked to right or left, and saw the bandages of several of the men. Nick Garth, too, was limping, but he resolutely kept on declaring that it was nothing to mind.
The Steeple Stone was left to the right, for there was this time no party of allies to meet; and very soon the great heavy mass of barren rocky hill loomed up before them, higher and higher, till the party were out from among the trees which had so far concealed their march, and proof was soon given that they were observed.
For all at once something was seen to be in motion, and Dummy shouted:
“There: I told you so!”
At the distance they then were, the object seen might have been a sheep or goat, slowly moving up the higher part of the mountain; but before long it stood out on the ridge, clear against the golden evening sky, plainly enough now a man.
Mark judged that after watching them the sentinel waved his hand to some one below, for the movement was seen, and a few minutes later another, and again another figure came up to stand clearly marked against the sky; and after a time all descended, their course being tracked down the barren hill face, till they disappeared, without doubt, in through the mouth of the cavern.
“Preparing a warm reception for us, Mark, my lad,” said Sir Edward, advancing to his son’s side; “but we shall be able to give them one equally warm. Well, my man, how are the wounds? Would you like to have ten minutes’ halt?”
Nick, to whom this was addressed, showed his teeth in a peculiar smile.
“When we’ve done our work, master; not before. Dessay we shall be ’bliged to wait before we get in.”
“I hope not,” said Sir Edward. “I mean for us to make a bold rush.”
“That’s right, master,” said the man, whose fellows were listening eagerly; “but I’ve been thinking about Sir Morton yonder, and my young lady.”
“Yes? What about them?” asked Sir Edward.
“You’re going to use blasting-powder?”
“Well, what of that?”
“I was thinking about them inside. We wouldn’t like to hurt them.”
“Of course not; but as I know the place, there is little fear. I went in some distance, some twenty years ago, and the passages run to and fro and keep opening up into chambers. Now, one of these, some distance in, is sure to be turned into a prison for the captives, where they would be beyond the reach of the powder, and I feel certain that they would be too far away to be hurt.”
“Won’t bring the roof down upon ’em, will it?” asked the man.
“I don’t think there is any fear; but it is only where we fail to drive the wretches back that I shall have a charge fired. I must save my men from injury as much as I can.”
“That’s what Sir Morton used to say, young gentleman,” said Nick, as Sir Edward drew back; and for the next half-hour the attacking party, a good twenty strong, advanced steadily, the steepness of the climb soon enforcing slower progress.
For some little time now they had been aware of the fact that the enemy had been making preparations for an attack. Taught by the last, they had worked hard, and built-up a massive wall across the entrance to their stronghold, this defensive work being formed of the rough blocks lying about the little slope, and for the most part they were dragged down, and hoisted into their place.
Upon this, half-a-dozen armed men were standing, watching their approach, and the attacking party made out their swords and pikes, the latter leaning against a rock, with their bright steel heads sloping towards the climbers.
When these latter were within about a hundred yards, Sir Edward halted his party, and ranged them in a curved line, the men at a short distance from each other, so that as they all made for the mouth of the cave they would gradually draw together, and be close when they delivered the attack.
“Pikes only,” said Sir Edward. “Keep your swords for the close hand-to-hand work.”
“Has your father been a soldier, youngster?” whispered Nick Garth hoarsely.
“No; why?”
“Talks like one. He couldn’t do better. He’ll give the word soon, and the sooner the better. I’ve got my wind now. ’Member the master and the young missus, lads.”
There was a growl from his companions, and as Mark glanced at them he felt that it would go hard with any one among the enemy who came within reach of their pikes.
The enemy had, however, now descended from the top of their wall, and only their heads and breasts were visible, as, ten strong now, they stood in a row, with their pikes resting upon the top; ready to thrust at the first who came within reach.
“Now, my lads,” cried Sir Edward; “have you all got your wind?”
“Ay!” ran along the crescent line.
“You with the powder, and the two centre men stand fast till you are wanted.”
This order was obeyed as the next was given, and headed by Sir Edward and his son, the party made steadily for the wall, at first slowly and gradually increasing the pace, till Sir Edward cried, “Charge!” and they broke into a trot, the fastest speed to be attained to upon such a slope.
Then, amidst shouts of hatred and mocking defiance from the marauders, there was the clash of steel, and the heavy rattling noise made by the pike-staves, as, thrusting and stabbing, the attacking party strove to win their way over the wall. Sir Edward led his men bravely, while, in a wild fit of excitement, Mark, young as he was, strove to show the Darley men that he was worthy to be their leader.
A fierce rage filled these men, fresh from the ruined home, and half mad with desire to revenge themselves upon those who had given them their wounds; but all along it was the same; they were at a terrible disadvantage in their approach, their enemies having their undefended bodies as marks for their weapons, while they had only head and shoulders to strike at, the rest of their bodies being safe, behind the strong breastwork.
Then, too, feeling secure in this approach to their stronghold, the marauders stood firm, waiting their opportunities, and then thrusting home, with the result that several of their assailants went down, and at the end of five minutes’ vain attack, Sir Edward ordered the men to draw back a few yards, and with some difficulty he and his son, by rushing before them, and thrusting up their pikes, induced them to obey.
“This is useless, Mark,” he said anxiously. “They are too strong for us. Take the extreme right next time we advance, and I will take the left. Then as soon as they are well engaged in front, you, with two men must try to get in over your end, and drop over amongst them from the side, and I will do the same. Do you dare to do that?”
“I feel as if it is horribly risky,” replied the boy, “but I’ll try.”
“Then you will do it,” said Sir Edward quietly. “Choose your men, and I will do the same.”
Five minutes later, amidst the mocking jeers of the men behind the breastwork, a fresh attack was made, and as Mark reached the front, he ducked down to avoid a thrust from a lance, crept close to the wall and, followed by Nick Garth and Ram Jennings, turned the end of the stones, climbed on, and reached the stone-strewn cliffs behind.
Then, knowing that the two men, in their fierce energy and hate, would be quite close, Mark turned suddenly, drew himself up, sword in hand—his followers letting their pikes slip through their hands, and holding them close up to the heads—and leaped down inside the breastwork, his father simultaneously coming over at the other flank.
There was not much force in either attack, but it proved effectual by its suddenness, throwing the defenders into confusion.
These rallied directly, and pikes were swung round and directed at the flanking parties, but the momentary check gave the men in front the opportunity to rush close up to the breastwork, which now became their protection, the defenders, having fallen back, becoming in turn exposed.
The fight now became furious, for the marauders began to back toward the mouth of the cave, giving way step by step, as the length of their line was gradually contracted by one after another dashing in, till all had passed into the narrow passage, the first men blocking the way with the heads of their pikes, while their fellows stooped and crept beneath, till the last was in safety. It is needless to say that an attempt to follow would have meant instant death.
A cheer now rose from the attacking party, who had achieved the taking of the outwork, and Sir Edward forced his way to his son’s side, to clap him on the shoulder, as he stood just out of reach of the defenders’ bristling pikes, which effectually barred the way.
“We have them now, Mark,” he cried. “Pass the word there for Daniel Rugg.”
But a low growl on the other side of the wall told that there was no need to pass any word. As soon as he saw that there was a chance for the next step, Dan had signed to Dummy, who trotted forward with lantern, fuse, and powder-bag, and father and son climbed into the little fort a few feet away from the opening into the cavern.
“Silence!” roared Sir Edward now—“you within there, lay down your arms, and march out at once.”
A defiant yell came from the holders of the pikes, enraging Nick Garth to such an extent that he picked up a block of stone from the top of the breastwork, raised it above his head, and dashed it into the doorway, Ram Jennings following suit with another.
The stones crashed in among the pikes with plenty of rattling, and a burst of yells followed as the men picked up a couple more.
“Stop, there,” cried Sir Edward sternly. “You can do no good, and I want the wall left sound for our own protection.”
Nick growled savagely, but he obeyed, and the men all stood fast at the cavern’s mouth with presented pikes, ready to attack if any movement was made by the defenders, while Dan Rugg and his son quickly prepared their missile.
“Ready,” shouted Dan from where he stood inside the wall with, his back to the men, and with Dummy looking intensely interested standing ready with the lantern.
“You, in there,” cried Sir Edward now, “will you surrender?”
“No,” cried a hoarse voice from inside. “Go back with your ragged pack of hungry hounds, or we’ll come and burn you out as we did the other idiot.”
“Once more,” cried Sir Edward, who still hesitated to proceed to the sternest measures; “will you give up your prisoners and surrender?”
“Bah! Laugh at him, boys,” cried the same hoarse voice: and another derisive yell arose.
“Out with you, my lads,” cried Sir Edward; and his men sprang over the wall again.
“You too, Mark,” said Sir Edward; and Mark followed, while Dan Rugg came close up with his bag of powder and fuse carefully tied in.
“Lay it as near as you can, so as to be out of reach of the pikes.”
“No good, Sir Edward,” said the man in a husky whisper. “Out with you. I’m going to light the fuse, and go right close, and heave it in over their pikes.”
“But that is too dangerous for you.”
“Not it. I know to a quarter of a minute when it will fire, and I shall hold it till then. That’ll give me time to jump the wall. Quick, sir, please.”
It was no time for hesitation, and feeling that his old servant at the mine could be trusted, Sir Edward climbed the wall, and Dummy, showing his teeth in a satisfied grin, opened the door of the lantern.
The next moment Dan had held the end of the short fuse he had provided to the candle, and a slight spluttering began.
“Over with you,” growled Dan, as his son snapped to the lantern door.
“Take care of yourself, daddy,” said the boy coolly.
“You be off,” growled Dan, and Dummy placed the lantern on the top of the breastwork, and vaulted over amongst the men, who were crouching down behind, to be out of the blast.
All this had taken place unknown to the defenders, who, from the narrowness of the entrance, were shut off from seeing the quaint, sardonic face of the old miner, as he stood holding the bag, with the burning fuse spluttering and sending up its curls of greyish smoke.
The men held their breath, and Mark’s eyes dilated as he watched the brave old fellow holding the bag, in the full knowledge that if he held the powder a moment too long he must be shattered to pieces.
It was a combination of the familiarity which breeds contempt and the confidence born of long experience which made Dan Rugg stand there so coolly for what seemed to be a long time before turning as he watched the burning fuse.
“Heads down there,” he said suddenly; “she’s going off.”
There was a quick movement, but Mark felt as if he was held by a nightmare dream, and he stood there watching, as the old man took a couple of steps forward, and now for the first time in full sight of those who held the fence of cross pikes.
In an instant there was a wild yell, and the pikes went down with their heads to the stones, and disappeared, but it was as Dan Rugg raised the bag above his head, and hurling it right into the cavern passage, he started aside to the shelter of the wall, while now by a step aside Mark also reached shelter. Then there was a roar and a burst of flame and smoke came as from the mouth of a cannon, and the men sprang up again to cheer.
“Steady—steady!” cried Sir Edward. “Now, my lads, over the wall with you, and follow me; never mind the smoke. Rugg, have another charge ready; we shall want it soon.”
“Ay, Sir Edward, that was a failure. I didn’t hold it long enough. They had time to get away.”
Sir Edward and his son entered the murk, and had to feel their way, and halted.
“Light torches,” cried Mark: and half-a-dozen were lit and passed in, when once more the party advanced, expecting to be attacked, but the blast had produced a scare, though it had done no serious harm, save tearing down a few stones, and instead of attacking, the marauders stood on their defence in the place familiar to Mark and some of the men.
There was again the same bristling array of pikes in the opening; and after a renewed summons to surrender, the old miner proceeded coolly to prepare a second bag of powder.
This was fired, but the explosion did not take place till some time after the defenders of the cavern had retreated; and for a while the passage was so stifling with the fumes that it was impossible to go on, so the party had to draw back to allow them to be dissipated.
At last it was deemed prudent to proceed, and once more the advance was ordered, the men eagerly obeying; and with torches adding their smoke to that already hanging in the gloomy cracks and vaults, they pressed on till once more the way was blocked.
It was no array of spear-points in a narrow passage, but in this case the solid blocking of a wall of stone, built-up with care, the stones well wedged in, a narrow opening left for the retreat of the defenders having been filled up since their last retreat, and the wonder to those who examined it was that it had been so quickly secured.
The choice of position, though, had been well made, for the passage was not above four feet wide at this point, and the roof had sunk till it was in this particular spot only five in height.
Once more the powder was brought forward by Dummy, the bag laid close to the bottom stones, the fuse added, and lit, and the party retired to a safe distance, to wait until the powder had swept the barrier away.
The explosion was long in coming, and when it did, with a mighty roar, an hour had to be passed before another advance was made, but no farther than the wall, which was found apparently quite uninjured, though the powder had brought down a huge mass from the roof.
“Pull it down,” said Sir Edward impatiently, and a couple of the men—there was no room for more—attacked the well-fitted stones, but only for one to start back with a cry of rage and pain, his hand to his side.
“Hurt?” cried Mark excitedly, and he ran to the man’s aid, to be sent staggering back by a heavy blow.
It was Sir Edward’s turn to rush to his son, and he too reeled as he received a thrust, but in the case of both, the pike-thrusts did not penetrate their clothes, the point of the weapon having been turned, unknown to the man who used it, by a thrust against the rock.
It was a warning, and throwing the light of the torches well upon the built-up wall, a couple of the men found the holes through which the thrusts had been made, and advancing cautiously to send their pikes through, had to leap back again, for the enemy thrust at them. Nick struck in turn, though, and a yell of pain told that it was not without effect.
“Keep back,” cried Sir Edward, as his men advanced recklessly, and when the wounded man had been drawn away and carried out, after a rough bandage had been applied to his wound, Sir Edward turned to his son.
“You must be hurt, my boy,” he whispered.
“I was, father, horribly.”
“But I mean wounded.”
“Only my doublet,” said the lad merrily. “What are we to do now?”
After a few moments’ thought, as Nick Garth had been so able, Sir Edward decided to let him try again, which he eagerly did, feigning so as to draw a thrust from the enemy, and darting aside and close up to the wall. Then, as the man withdrew his pike, Nick, holding his own short, thrust it through after it, and again there was a yell of pain, but almost at the same moment Ram Jennings was just reached by a thrust through another hole, and sprang back, roaring like a wild beast.
“Yah! don’t howl like that,” cried Nick angrily; “do as I do.”
But poor Ram Jennings preferred to stand nursing his injured arm, and watching his fellow ramming away with his pike, as if loading a gun, till suddenly it was jerked out of his hand, and drawn through the wall.
“Look at that,” he growled. “Here, give’s hold of another.”
But Sir Edward ordered him back.
“It’s of no use, my lad,” he cried; “come away.”
“All very well to say come away, captain,” growled the man, as he stood close up, “but if I stir, I shall get a hole through me.”
Sir Edward saw the man’s difficult position, and gave an order in a low tone, when every man bearing a light ran back and round one of the corners, leaving the cavern in darkness.
Nick took advantage thereof, and sprang away from his perilous position. The rattle of a pike-staff against the stones told that a thrust had been made at him in the darkness.
“Are you hit?” cried Mark anxiously.
“Ay, youngster, but on’y with the staff,” growled Nick; and the order for the lights to be brought back was given and obeyed.
“Another, Rugg,” said Sir Edward laconically, and Dan, who had a bag ready, primed with fuse, laid it on the stony floor, picked it up on the point of a pike, and advanced to place it against the wall.
A couple of thrusts were made at it directly, but he lowered it, and the enemy could not force their points down low enough to reach it. But as Dan placed it against the bottom of the wall the pikes were aimed now at his breast.
“Back!” roared Sir Edward, as Mark rushed at the man to drag him away.
“All right, Master Mark,” said Dan coolly; “my arms and my pike are as long as theirs. They can’t reach me. They’ve got all the thickness of the wall to push through as well;” and he coolly placed the powder-bag and arranged the fuse ready for being lighted.
“I did not think of that, Dan,” said Mark.
“Ay, but I did,” said the old fellow, chuckling. “Now, Dummy, my boy, son, bring a lighted torch.”
Dummy trotted forward, and they heard a growl from beyond the wall, as the miner thrust the point of his pike into the end of the torch, and then reached out toward the fuse, but only succeeded in getting it half-way before it was knocked off the point of his weapon.
“Ah, deal o’ good that’s done,” growled Dan, trying to drive the point of his pike into the torch again. “There,” he shouted, “run for it; I can reach to pitch it up to the bag.”
The men on the other side did not grasp the fact that if Dan did this his companions would fare worse than they, but scuffled off at once, their steps being plainly heard.
“Fools!” growled Dan, and stepping forward, he picked up the torch, went close up to the wall, and touched the end of the fuse, which began to sparkle at once.
“Plenty o’ time, Sir Edward,” he said coolly, “if you’ll now order us back.”
The order was given, and as it was obeyed, Sir Edward and his son retiring last, they saw Nick Garth step close up to old Dan and pat him on the shoulder.
“You’re a cool one, mate,” he said. “I never see one as cool as you.”
Dan chuckled a little, and all went along the narrow passage and into the chamber beyond, well out of reach of the blast, and waited.
It was a good two minutes before the explosion took place, and Mark had made perfectly sure that the fuse had gone out, when there was a sensation as if his breath was being sucked away, then a deafening roar, followed by a crash.
Again they had to wait till the fumes had somewhat dispersed. Then, with Sir Edward and Mark leading, they returned, expecting to see the wall demolished; but as far as they could see it was perfectly sound, while another huge mass from the roof had come down, to lie piled up before it, so that there was hardly room for a man to crawl over the heap, so close was it to the roof.
“It’s of no use, Mark,” whispered Sir Edward, as they drew back a little from the smoke, “we must devise some other plan. It is useless to try another bag there without first clearing away the mass of stones, and we can only do that at the expense of many men wounded by pike-thrusts, perhaps killed.”
“Yes,” said Mark, “and it doesn’t seem fair to order them to do it.”
“I cannot, my boy. There, we have done our work for this time. Let’s get out of this horrible smoke.”
“Hoi, you!” came from beyond the wall; “if you fire any more of that choke-dog stuff, I’ll give orders to my men to kill the prisoners, ’specially the girl.”
“You cowardly ruffian!” cried Mark, in a rage.
“Bah! Puppy!” came back scornfully.
“Don’t answer, boy,” said Sir Edward softly.
“But father!—if—”
“It is only a boast. They dare not do such a thing as that. Come.”
They retired, making for the mouth of the cavern, where the cool night air blew with refreshing force.
“But we cannot give up, father,” cried Mark.
“I am not going to give up, my boy,” said Sir Edward quietly. “When an assault upon a stronghold fails, a general tries to starve his enemy into submission. We must do the same here. Unfortunately they must have stores, and they have a good supply of water from a spring within there. But still we must try. The first thing is to protect ourselves from a sudden attack, and this will be easy. Now, my lads, every man take in a block of stone, and carry it into the cavern as far as the end of the first chamber. Take these from the breastwork; we do not want it now, for we shall encamp inside.”
Mark nodded approval, and the men, glad that the night’s fighting was at an end, set to work with a will, after laying their arms aside; and in less than an hour had walled up to a great thickness the narrow exit from the cavern, wedging in the top stones with blows, and in spite of the want of mortar producing a good solid piece of work, through which no pikes could be thrust.
This done, Sir Edward reduced his force to one-third, this being plenty to defend the wall should it be attacked from the inner side; and the rest were sent back to the Tor Castle, for provisions and blankets.
“Now, Mark, lad,” said Sir Edward, “the thing to consider is, how long can the enemy hold out?”
“Not long, father,” replied the lad; “they cannot have a very good supply.”
“That,” said Sir Edward, “remains to be proved.”
Siege was now commenced, Ergles being to all intents and purposes an impregnable natural castle. Provisions and other necessaries were brought up, and the force was divided into three watches, who regularly mounted guard in the chamber in front of the wall. But the whole of the next day passed without a sound being heard, the enemy not attempting to break down their own side, for fear of getting into a trap, the utter stillness being interpreted to mean a ruse to get them to make an opening through which an attack would be made.
Then another day was passed, and still all was quiet; but toward the middle of the next those on guard in the chamber heard, and reported to Mark, that they could hear the distant sound of stones rolling down, and Mark went and listened so as to determine whether his father ought to be roused, for after a very long watch he had lain down upon a blanket to sleep.
“I wouldn’t call un, Master Mark,” said Dan. “He’s tired enough. Watches twice to our once. Let the hounds come; we could account for ’em if they tried to pull our wall down.”
“Well, it would be plenty of time to awaken my father if they came and tried,” said Mark. “Look here, then, we’ll wait; and let it be in perfect silence, so that we may hear if they come as far as the other side of the wall.”
The men were as obedient to his orders as to those of Sir Edward, and they all sat or lay about, with their weapons close to their hands, listening in the darkness, the calm and silence being good for thought; and before long Mark’s brain was at work thinking about the state of affairs at the castle, to which he had been three times since the siege began, to see his sister and learn how Ralph Darley was progressing.
The news was always bad, Master Rayburn shaking his head and looking very serious.
“Bad hurts, Mark, boy,” he said, “bad hurts. I hope, please God, he may be spared; but I have my fears.”
“Master Rayburn!” cried Mark wildly. “Oh! you must not—you shall not let the brave fellow die.”
“I’d give my poor old life to save his,” said the old man sadly. “We can only wait and hope.”
And as Mark sat in the dark natural chamber formed in the old limestone hill, he recalled Ralph’s white, fire-scarred face, looking pale and unnaturally drawn, and wondered that he should feel so low-spirited about one who was an enemy and almost a stranger, till his musings were interrupted by a dull sound on the other side of the wall—a sound which came after the long period of utter silence which had succeeded to the noise made by forcing out and rolling down stones.
No one else heard the faint sound, and setting it down to fancy, Mark was thinking again about the prisoners within, and wondering what treatment they were receiving from the enemy.
It seemed hard enough for Sir Morton Darley, but Mark could not help feeling how terrible it must be for a delicately sensitive girl.
Then once more he heard that sound, which he felt sure could only be caused by a foot kicking against a stone.
Just then there was a faint rustling, a hand was laid upon his arm, and Dummy whispered:
“Hear that, Master Mark?”
“Yes. Don’t talk,” whispered Mark, and the two lads, who were well upon the alert, listened in perfect silence, till all at once there was a faint gleam of light, so feeble that it could hardly be distinguished, but there it was, close to the roof, and Mark was satisfied that it must come over the top of their defensive wall.
Then all was still for a minute or two, till the two mentally saw what was taking place—some one was passing his hands over the built-up stones, and trying whether one of them could be dislodged.
Then all was still again, and the light died out.
It was not till hours after that any further sound was heard, and this time Sir Edward was awake and about, passing from the dark chamber where the sentries were on guard to the light outside, and back again.
Mark went with him, and Sir Edward had just happened to say in a whisper:
“All quiet enough now,” when a voice, apparently close to his elbow, said hoarsely:
“No. I’m not going to walk into a trap.”
There was a good deal in those few words, for to Mark, among other things, they meant that if the speaker was not going to walk into a trap, it was because he must have food enough to last him for some time longer, and was not willing to lay down his arms.