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Quicksilver; The Boy With No Skid To His Wheel, a fiction by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 30. Dark Deeds |
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_ CHAPTER THIRTY. DARK DEEDS It was very dark among the trees as Dexter reached the grass plot which sloped to the willows by the river-side, but he knew his way so well that he crept along in silence till he had one hand resting upon the trunk he had so often climbed, and stood there gazing across the starlit water, trying to make out the figure of his companion in the boat. All was silent, save that, now and then, the water as it ran among the tree-roots made a peculiar whispering sound, and once or twice there was a faint plash in the distance, as if from the feeding of a fish. "Hist! Bob! Are you there!" "Hullo!" came from the other side. "I was just a-going." "Going?" "Yes. I thought you wasn't a-coming, and I wasn't going to stop here all night." "But you said twelve." "Well, it struck twelve an hour ago." "No; that was eleven. There--hark!" As proof of Dexter's assertion the church clock just then began to chime, and the heavy boom of the tenor bell proclaiming midnight seemed to make the soft night air throb. "Thought it was twelve long enough ago. Ready!" "Yes," said Dexter, in an excited whisper. "Got the boat?" "No: course I haven't. It'll take two to get that boat." "But you said you would have it ready." "Yes, I know; but we must both of us do that. I waited till you come." This was a shock; and Dexter said, in a disappointed tone-- "But how am I to get to you!" "Come across," said Bob coolly. "Come across--in the dark!" "Why, of course. You ain't afraid, are you? Well, you are a chap!" "But it's too deep to wade." "Well, who said it wasn't!" growled the boy. "You can swim, can't you?" "But I shall get so wet." "Yah!" ejaculated Bob in tones of disgust. "You are a fellow. Take your clothes off, make 'em in a bundle, and swim over." Dexter was half-disposed to say, "You swim across to me," but nothing would have been gained if he had, so, after a few minutes' hesitation, and in genuine dread, he obeyed the wishes of his companion, but only to pause when he was half-undressed. "I say, though," he whispered, "can't you get the boat? It's so cold and dark." "Well, you are a fellow!" cried Bob. "Beginning to grumble afore we start. It's no use to have a mate who's afraid of a drop of water, and don't like to get wet." "But--" "There, never mind," grumbled Bob; "we won't go." "But I didn't say I wouldn't come, Bob," whispered Dexter desperately. "I'll come." There was no answer. "Bob." Still silence. "I say, don't go, Bob. I'm very sorry. I'm undressing as fast as I can. You haven't gone, have you?" Still silence, and Dexter ceased undressing, and stood there in the cold night air, feeling as desolate, despairing, and forlorn as boy could be. "What shall I do?" he said to himself; and then, in a despondent whisper, "Bob!" "Hullo!" "Why, you haven't gone!" joyfully. "No; but I'm going directly. It's no use for me to have a mate who hasn't got any pluck. Now then, are you coming, or are you not!" "I'm coming," said Dexter. "But stop a moment. I'll be back directly." "Whatcher going to do!" "Wait a moment and I'll show you." Dexter had had a happy thought, and turning and running in his trousers to the tool-shed, he dragged out a small deal box in which seeds had come down from London that spring. It was a well-made tight box, and quite light, and with this he ran back. "Why, what are you doing?" grumbled Bob, as soon as he heard his companion's voice. "Been getting something to put my clothes in," whispered Dexter. "I don't want to get them wet." "Oh," said Bob, in a most unconcerned way; and he began to whistle softly, as Dexter finished undressing, tucked all his clothes tightly in the box, and bore it down to the water's edge, where it floated like a little boat. "There!" cried Dexter excitedly. "Now they'll be all dry when I've got across. Ugh! how cold the water is," he continued, as he dipped one foot. "I wish I'd brought a towel." "Yah! what does a fellow want with a towel? You soon gets dry if you run about. Going to walk across!" "I can't," said Dexter; "it's too deep." "Well, then, swim. I could swim that with one hand tied behind." "I couldn't," said Dexter, hesitating, for it was no pleasant task to plunge into the little gliding river at midnight, and with all dark around. "Now then! Look alive! Don't make a splash." "Oh!" "What's the matter?" "It is cold." "Yah! Then, get back to bed with you, and let me go alone." "I'm coming as fast as I can," said Dexter, as he lowered himself into the stream, and then rapidly climbed out again, as the cold water caused a sudden catching of the breath; and a nervous shrinking from trusting himself in the dark river made him draw right away from the edge. "Why, you ain't swimming," said Bob. "Here, look sharp! Why, you ain't in!" "N-no, not yet," said Dexter, shivering. "There's a coward!" sneered Bob. "I'm not a coward, but it seems so dark and horrible to-night, and as if something might lay hold of you." "Yes, you are a regular coward," sneered Bob. "There, jump in, or I'll shy stones at yer till you do." Dexter did not speak, but tumbled all of a heap on the short turf, shrinking more and more from his task. "I shall have to go without you," said Bob. "I can't help it," said Dexter, in a low, tremulous whisper. "It's too horrid to get in there and swim across in the dark." "No, it ain't. I'd do it in a minute. There, jump in." "No," said Dexter sadly. "I must give it up." "What, yer won't do it!" "I can't," said Dexter sadly. "We must try some other way. I'm going to dress again. Oh!" "What's the matter now!" "My clothes!" _Splash_! _Rush_! Dexter had rapidly lowered himself into the black deep stream and was swimming hard and fast, for as he rose and sought for his garments he suddenly recalled the fact that he had turned the box into a tiny barge, laden it with his clothes, and placed them in the river, while now, as he went to take them out, he found that the stream had borne the box away, and it was going down toward the sea. "Try if you can see them, Bob," said Dexter, as he panted and struggled on through the water. "See what?" "My clothes. They're floating down the river." Bob uttered a low chuckling laugh, and trotted along by the edge of the river; but it was too dark for him to see anything, and Dexter, forgetting cold and dread, swam bravely on, looking well to right and left, without avail, till all at once, just in one of the deepest eddies, some fifty yards down below the doctor's house, and where an unusually large willow spread its arms over the stream, he caught sight of something which blotted out the starlight for a moment, and then the stars' reflection beamed out again. Something was evidently floating there, and he made for it, to find to his great joy that it was the floating box, which he pushed before him as he swam, and a couple of minutes later he was near enough to the edge on the meadow-side to ask Bob's help. "Ain't got 'em, have you?" the latter whispered. "Yes; all right. I'll come out there. Give me a hand." Dexter swam to the muddy overhanging bank, and seized the hand which Bob extended toward him. "Now then, shall I duck yer!" said Bob, who had lain down on the wet grass to extend his hand to the swimmer. "No, no, Bob, don't. That would be cowardly," cried Dexter. "Help me to get out my clothes without letting in the wet. It is so cold." "But you swam over," said Bob sneeringly. "Yes; but you don't know how chilly it makes you feel. Mind the clothes." Bob did mind, and the next minute Dexter and the barge of dry clothes were upon the grass together. "Oh, isn't it cold?" said Dexter, with his teeth chattering. "Cold? no. Not a bit," said Bob. "Here, whatcher going to do!" "Do? Dress myself. Here, give me my shirt. Oh, don't I wish I had a towel!" "You leave them things alone, stoopid. You can't dress yet." "Not dress!" "No," cried Bob loudly. "What do you mean!" "You come along and I'll show yer. Why, we haven't got the boat." "No, but--" "Well, you're all ready, and you've got to swim across and get it." "I've got to get it!" cried Dexter in dismay. "Why, you said you would get the boat." "Yes, but I didn't know then that you were going to swim across." "But you said it would take two to get it," protested Dexter. "Yes, I thought so then, but you're all ready and can swim across, and get it directly. Here, come along!" "But--but," stammered Dexter, who was shivering in the chill night air. "What, you're cold? Well, come along. I'll carry the box. Let's run. It'll warm yer." Dexter was ready with another protest, but he did not utter it. His companion seemed to carry him along with the force of his will, but all the same there was a troublous feeling forcing itself upon him that he had made a mistake, and he could not help a longing for his room at the doctor's with its warm bed, comfort, safety, and repose. But he knew it was too late, and he was too much hurried and confused to do more than try to keep up with Bob Dimsted as he ran by his side carrying the box till they had reached the meadow facing Sir James Danby's garden; and there, just dimly seen across the river, was the low gable-end of the boat-house beneath the trees. "Hush! don't make a row," whispered Bob. "Now then, slip in and fetch it. Why, you could almost jump it." "But, Bob--I--I don't like to go. I'm so cold." "I'll precious soon warm yer if you don't look sharp," cried Bob fiercely. "Don't you try to make a fool of me. Now then, in with you!" He had put the box down and gripped Dexter fiercely by the arm, causing him so much pain that instead of alarming it roused the boy's flagging spirit, and he turned fiercely upon his assailant, and wrested his arm free. "That's right," said Bob. "In with you. And be sharp, and then you can dress yerself as we float down." Dexter's instinct was to resist and give up, but he felt that he had gone too far, and feeling that his companion might consider him a coward if he refused to go, he lowered himself down into the water. "That's yer sort," said Bob, in a loud whisper. "You'll soon do it." "But suppose the chains are locked!" "They won't be locked," said Bob. "You go acrost and see." In the eager desire to get an unpleasant task done, Dexter let himself glide down into the swift stream about a dozen yards above the boat-house, and giving himself a good thrust off with his feet, he swam steadily and easily across, the river there being about thirty yards wide, and in a very short time he managed to touch the post at the outer corner of the long low boat-house. Then, hardly knowing how he managed it, he found bottom as his hand grasped the gunwale of the boat, and walking along beside it he soon reached the chain which moored it to the end. Here in his excitement and dread it seemed as if his mission was to fail. It was dark enough outside, but in the boat-house everything seemed to be of pitchy blackness, and try how he would he could find no way of unfastening the chain. He tried toward the boat, then downwards, then upwards, and in the boat again, and again. His teeth were chattering, his chest and shoulders felt as if they were freezing, and his hands, as they fumbled with the wet chain, began to grow numbed, while, to add to his excitement and confusion, Bob kept on from time to time sending across the river a quick hissing-- "I say; look sharp." Then he heard a sound, and he splashed through the water in retreat toward the river, for it seemed that they were discovered, and some one coming down the garden. But the sound was repeated, and he realised the fact that it was only the side of the boat striking against a post. "I say, are you a-coming?" whispered Bob. "I can't undo the chain," Dexter whispered back. "Yer don't half try." Just then the clock chimed half-past twelve, and Dexter stopped involuntarily; but a fresh summons from his companion roused him to further action, and he passed once more along to the prow of the boat, and seizing the chain felt along it till this time he felt a hook, and, wondering how it was that he had missed it before, he began with trembling fingers to try and get it out from the link through which it was thrust. It was in very tightly, though, for the point being wedge-shaped the swaying about and jerking to and fro of the boat had driven it further and further in, so that it was not until he had been ready over and over again to give up in despair that the boy got the iron free. Then panting with dread and excitement he found the rest easy; the chain was passed through a ring-bolt in one of the posts at the head of the boat-house, and through this he drew it back slowly and cautiously on account of the rattling it made. It seemed of interminable length as he drew and drew, piling up the chain in the bows of the boat till he thought he must have obtained all, when there was a sudden check, and it would come no further. Simple enough in broad daylight, and to a person in the boat, but Dexter was standing waist deep in the water, and once more he felt that the case was hopeless. Another call from Bob roused him, and he followed the chain with his hand till he had waded to the post, and found that the hook had merely caught in the ring, and only needed lifting out, and the boat was at liberty. But just at this moment there was a furious barking, and a dog seemed to be tearing down the garden toward the boat-house. In an agony of horror Dexter climbed into the boat, and feeling the side of the long shed he thrust and thrust with so much effect that he sent the light gig well out into the stream and half-across the river. Then seizing an oar, as the dog was now down on the bank, snapping and barking more furiously than ever, he got it over into the water, and after a great deal of paddling, and confused counter-action of his efforts, forced the boat onward and along, till it touched the shore where Bob was waiting with the box. "No, no, don't come out," he whispered. "Here, help me get these in." Dexter crept to the stern of the boat, and in his effort to embark the box nearly fell overboard, but the treasure was safe. Then Bob handed in a basket, and a bundle of sticks, evidently his rod, and leaping in directly after, gave the boat sufficient impetus to send it well out into the stream, down which it began to glide. "Ah, bark away, old un," said Bob contemptuously, as the sound of the dog's alarm notes grew more distant, and then more distant still, for they were going round a curve, and the garden side of the river was thick with trees. "Is that Danby's dog!" whispered Bob. "I don't know," said Dexter, with his teeth chattering from cold and excitement. "Why! you're a-cold," said Bob coolly. "Here, I'll send her along. You look sharp and dress. I say, where's your bundle of things?" "Do you mean my clothes?" "No! Your bundle." "I didn't bring anything," said Dexter, hurriedly slipping on his shirt. "Well, you are a chap!" said Bob sourly, but Dexter hardly heard him, for he was trying to get his wet body covered from the chill night air; and he could think of nothing but the fact that he had taken a very desperate step, and the boat was bearing them rapidly away from what seemed now to have been a very happy home--further out, further away from the doctor and from Helen, downward toward the sea, and over that there was a great black cloud, beyond which, according to Bob Dimsted, there were bright and glorious lands. At that moment, chill with the cold and damp, Dexter would have given anything to have been back in his old room, but it was too late, the boat was gliding on, and Bob had now got out the sculls. The town lights were receding, and they were going onward toward that dark cloud which Dexter seemed to see more dimly now, for there was a dumb depressing sensation of despair upon him, and he turned his eyes toward the river-bank, asking himself if he could leap ashore. _ |
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