The Mayor of Troy Part 13

"Shouldn' wonder at all."

"I didn' mean to kill any person, Mr. Spettigew!"

"'Tis the sort of accident, Oke, that might happen to anyone in war.

At the worst they'll recommend 'ee to mercy. The mistake was your tellin' me."

"You won't inform upon me, Mr. Spettigew? Don't say you'll inform upon me!"

"No, I won't; not if I can help it. But dang it! first of all you swaller the fuse, and next you fire off your ramrod."

"E-everything must have a beginning, Mr. Spettigew."

Uncle Issy shook his head. "I doubt you'll never make a sojer, William Oke. You'm too frolicsome wi' the materials. Listen, there's Pengelly shoutin' for another volley! Right you be, sergeant! Make ready--prepare--Eh? Hallo!"

Why was it that suddenly, at the height of the hubbub, a panic fell upon the bandsmen of Troy? Why did the "Rout for the Looes" cease midway in a bar? What was it that hushed on an instant the shouts, the rallying cries upon the beach, the bugle-calls and challenges, the furious uproar of musketry?

Why, within twenty yards of the Cove-head, in the act of charging upon the serried ranks of Looe's main guard, did Major Hymen face about and with sword still uplifted stare behind him, and continue to stare as one petrified?

What meant that strange light, out yonder by the Cove's mouth, in the rear of his boats?

The light grew and spread until it illuminated every pebble on the beach. The men of Troy, dazzled by the glare of it, blinked in the faces of the men of Looe.

THE FRENCH!

"A trap! A trap!" yelled someone far to the right, and the cry was echoed on the instant by a sound in the rear of the Diehards--a sound yet more terrible--the pounding of hoofs upon hard turf.

Again Captain Pond rushed forward and caught the Major by the elbow.

"The Dragoons!" he whispered. "Run for your life, man!"

But already the ranks of the Diehards had begun to waver; and now, as the oncoming hoofs thundered louder, close upon their rear, they broke. Trojans and men of Looe turned tail and were swept in one commingled crowd down the beach.

"To the water, there! Down to the water, every man of you!"

A voice loud as a bull's roared out the command from the darkness.

The Major, still waving his sword, was lifted by the crowd's pressure and swept along like a chip in a tideway. His feet fought for solid earth. Glancing back as he struggled, he saw, high above his shoulder, lit up by the flares from seaward, a line of flas.h.i.+ng swords, helmets, cuira.s.ses.

"To the boats!" yelled the crowd.

"To the water! Drive 'em to the water!" answered the stentorian voice, now recognisable as Mr. Smellie's.

The Dragoons, using the flat of their sabres, drove the fugitives down to the tide's edge, nor drew rein until their chargers stood fetlock-deep in water, still pressing the huddled throng around the boats.

"Bring a lantern, there!" shouted the Riding Officer. "And call Hymen! Where is Hymen!"

"I am here!"

The Major had picked himself up out of two feet of water, into which he had been flung on all fours. He was dripping wet, but he still clutched his naked blade, and advancing into the light of the lantern's rays, brought it up to salute with a fine cold dignity.

"I am here," he repeated quietly.

"Well, then, I'm sorry for you, Hymen; but the game's up," said Mr.

Smellie.

The Major glanced at him, for a moment only.

"Will someone inform me who commands this troop?" he asked, looking first to right, then to left, along the line of the Dragoons.

"At your service, sir," answered a young officer, pressing his horse forward alongside Mr. Smellie's.

The Major reached out a hand for the lantern. Someone pa.s.sed it to him obediently; and holding it he scanned the officer up and down amid the dead silence of the crowd.

"Your name, sir?"

"Arbuthnot, sir--Captain Arbuthnot, of the 5th Dragoons."

"Then allow me to ask, Captain Arbuthnot, by what right have you and your troopers a.s.saulted my men?"

"Excuse me," the Captain answered. "I am acting on trustworthy information. The Riding Officer here, Mr. Smellie--"

But here Mr. Smellie himself interposed brusquely.

"You can stow this bl.u.s.ter, Hymen. I've cornered you, and you know it. The flares in the offing yonder came from two preventive boats.

Back-door and front I have you, as neat as a rat in a drain; so you may just turn that lantern of yours on the cargo, own up, and sing small."

"To resume our conversation, Captain Arbuthnot," the Major went on.

"Upon what information are you and your men taking a part, uninvited, in this evening's--er--proceedings? You must understand, sir, that I put this question as a magistrate."

"To be frank, sir, I am warned that under cover of a feigned attack between your two corps an illicit cargo was to be run here to-night.

The Riding Officer's information is precise, and he tells me he is acquainted with the three boats in which the goods have been brought over."

"And more by token, there they are!" exclaimed Mr. Smellie, pointing to three small lugger-rigged craft that lay moored some six or eight fathoms outside the long-boats, with mainmasts unstepped, sails left to lie loose about deck with an artful show of carelessness, and hulls suspiciously deep in the water. He dismounted, caught up a lantern, and scanned them, chuckling in his glee. "See here, Captain, the rogues had their gang-planks out and ready. Now, wait till I've whistled in the preventive crews, and inside of ten minutes you shall see what game these pretty innocents were playing."

He blew his whistle, and a whistle answered from the offing, where the flares continued to blaze.

"Excuse me again," said the Major, ignoring the interruption and still addressing himself to Captain Arbuthnot, "but this is a very serious accusation, sir. If, as you surmise--or rather as your informant surmises--these boats should prove to be laden with contraband goods, the men undoubtedly deserve punishment; and I am the less likely to deprecate it since they have compromised me by their folly. For me, holding as I do the King's commission of the peace, to be involved, however innocently, however unconsciously--"

"Ay," struck in Mr. Smellie again, "it's a devilish awkward business for you, Hymen. But you won't improve it by turning cat-in-the-pan at the last moment, and so I warn you. Come along, lads!" he called to the preventive crews. "We have 'em right and tight this trip.

See the three luggers, there, to port of ye?"

"Ay, ay, sir!"

"Tumble aboard, then, and fetch us out a sample of their cargo."

There was a pause. Save for the jingling of the chargers' bits and now and again the clink of scabbard on boot, silence--dead silence-- held the beach. Aboard the boats the preventive men could be heard rummaging.

"Found anything?" called out Mr. Smellie.