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Quicksilver; The Boy With No Skid To His Wheel, a fiction by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 37. Second-Hand Stealing |
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_ CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN. SECOND-HAND STEALING "Here, you, sir! stop!" he roared. "Pull away, Bob!" whispered Dexter, for Bob had paused, half-paralysed by the nearness of the danger. But he obeyed the second command, and tugged at the oars. "D'yer hear!" roared the man, with a furious string of oaths. "Hold hard or I'll--" He did not say what, but made a gesture as if striking with a great force. "Don't speak, Bob: pull hard," whispered Dexter, bending forward in the boat so as to reach the rower, and encourage him to make fresh efforts, while, for his part, he kept his eyes upon the man. "D'yer hear what I say?" he roared again. "What d'yer mean by coming here to steal my boat?" "'Tain't yours," cried Dexter. "What? Didn't I buy it of yer and pay for it?" "You came and stole it while we were asleep, you thief!" cried Dexter again. "Say I stole yer boat and I'll drown'd yer," cried the man, forcing his way through the reeds and osiers so as to keep up with them. "If you don't take that back it'll be the worse for yer. Stop! D'yer hear? Stop!" Bob stopped again, for the man's aspect was alarming, and every moment he seemed as if he was about to leap from the high bank. Fortunately for all parties he did not do this, as if he had reached the edge of the boat he must have capsized it, and if he had leaped into the bottom, he must have gone right through. Bob did not realise all this; but he felt certain that the man would jump, and, with great drops of fear upon his forehead he kept on stopping as the man threatened, and, but for Dexter's urging, the boat would have been given up. "I can hear yer," the man roared, with a fierce oath. "I hear yer telling him to row. Just wait till I get hold of you, my gentleman!" "Row, Bob, row!" panted Dexter, "as soon as we're out in the river we shall be safe." "But he'll be down upon us d'reckly," whispered Bob. "Go on rowing, I tell you, he daren't jump." "You won't stop, then, won't yer?" cried the man. "If yer don't stop I'll drive a hole through the bottom, and sink yer both." "No, he won't," whispered Dexter. "Row, Bob, row! He can't reach us, and he has nothing to throw." Bob groaned, but he went on rowing; and in his dread took the boat so near the further side that he kept striking one scull against the muddy bank, and then, in his efforts to get room to catch water, he thrust the head of the boat toward the bank where the man was stamping with fury, and raging at them to go back. This went on for a hundred yards, and they were still far from the open river, when the man gave a shout at them and ran on, disappearing among the low growth on the bank. "Now, Bob, he has gone," said Dexter excitedly, "pull steadily, and as hard as you can. Mind and don't run her head into the bank, or we shall be caught." Bob looked up at him with a face full of abject fear and misery, but he was in that frame of weak-mindedness which made him ready to obey any one who spoke, and he rowed on pretty quickly. Twice over he nearly went into the opposite bank, with the risk of getting the prow stuck fast in the clayey mud, but a drag at the left scull saved it, and they were getting rapidly on now, when all at once Dexter caught sight of their enemy at a part of the creek where it narrowed and the bank overhung a little. The man had run on to that spot, and had lain down on his chest, so as to be as far over as he could be to preserve his balance, and he was reaching out with his hands, and a malicious look of satisfaction was in his face, as the boat was close upon him before Dexter caught sight of him, Bob of course having his back in the direction they were going. "Look out, Bob," shouted Dexter. "Pull your right! pull your right!" Bob was so startled that he looked up over his shoulder, saw the enemy, and tugged at the wrong oar so hard that he sent the boat right toward the overhanging bank. "I've got yer now, have I, then?" roared the man fiercely; and as the boat drifted towards him he reached down and made a snatch with his hand at Dexter's collar. As a matter of course the boy ducked down, and the man overbalanced himself. For a moment it seemed as if he would come down into the boat, over which he hung, slanting down and clinging with both hands now, and glaring at them with his mouth open and his eyes starting, looking for all the world like some huge gargoyle on the top of a cathedral tower. "Stop!" he roared; and then he literally turned over and came so nearly into the boat that he touched the stern as it passed, and the water he raised in a tremendous splash flew all over the boys. "Now, Bob, pull, pull, pull!" cried Dexter, stamping his foot as he looked back and saw the man rise out of the water to come splashing after them for a few paces; but wading through mud and water was not the way to overtake a retreating boat, and to Dexter's horror he saw the fellow struggle to the side and begin to scramble up the bank. Once he slipped back; but he began to clamber up again, and his head was above the edge when, in obedience to Bob's tugging at the sculls, the boat glided round one of the various curves of the little creek and shut him from their view. "He'll drown'd us. He said he would," whimpered Bob. "Let's leave the boat and run." "No, no!" cried Dexter; "pull hard, and we shall get out into the river, and he can't follow us." "Yes, he can," cried Bob, blubbering now aloud. "He means it, and he'll half-kill us. Let's get out to this side and run." "Pull! I tell you, pull!" cried Dexter furiously; and Bob pulled obediently, sending the boat along fast round the curves and bends, but not so fast but that they heard a furious rustling of the osiers and reeds, and saw the figure of the man above them on the bank. "There, I told you so," whimpered Bob. "Let's get out t'other side." "Row, I tell you!" roared Dexter; and to his surprise the man did not stop, but hurried on toward the mouth of the creek. "There!" cried Bob. "He's gone for his boat, and he'll stop us, and he'll drown'd us both." "He daren't," said Dexter stoutly, though he felt a peculiar sinking all the time. "But he will, he will. It's no use to row." Dexter felt desperate now, for theirs was an awkward position; and to his horror he saw that Bob was ceasing to row, and looking up at the bank on his left. "You go on rowing," cried Dexter fiercely. "I shan't," whimpered Bob; "it's of no use. I shan't row no more." _Thud_! Bob yelled out, more in fear than in pain, for the sound was caused by Dexter swinging the boat-hook round and striking his companion a sharp rap on the side of the head. "Go on rowing," cried Dexter, "and keep in the middle." Bob howled softly; but, like a horse that has just received an admonition from the whip, he bent to his task, and rowed with all his might, blubbering the while. "That's right," cried Dexter, who felt astonished at his hardihood. "We can't be far now. Pull--pull hard. There, I can see the river. Hurray, Bob, we're nearly there!" Bob sobbed and snuffled, and bent down over his oars, rowing as if for life or death. The boat was speeding swiftly through the muddy water, the opening with its deep fringe of reeds was there, and Dexter was making up his mind to try and direct Bob to pull right or left so as to get to the thinnest place that the boat might glide right out, when he saw something. "No, Bob, only a little way," he had said. "Pull with all your might." Then he stopped short and stared aghast. Fortunately Bob was bending down, sobbing, and straining every nerve, as if he expected another blow, otherwise he would have been chilled by Dexter's look of dread, for there, just as if he had dropped from the bank and begun wading, was their enemy, who, as the boat neared, took up his position right in the middle of the creek, where the water was nearly to his chest, and, with the reeds at his back, waited to seize the boat. Dexter stood holding the boat-hook, half-paralysed for a few moments, and then, moved by despair, he stepped over the thwart toward Bob. "No, no," cried the latter, ducking down his head. "I will pull--I will pull." He did pull too, with all his might, and the boat was going swiftly through the water as Dexter stepped right over the left-hand scull, nearly toppled over, but recovered himself, and stood in the bows of the boat, as they were now within twenty yards of the man, who, wet and muddy, stood up out of the creek like some water monster about to seize the occupants of the boat for a meal. "Pull, Bob, hard!" whispered Dexter, in a low, excited voice; and Bob pulled. The boat sped on, and the man uttered a savage yell, when, with a cry of horror, Bob ceased rowing. But the boat had plenty of impetus, and it shot forward so swiftly that, to avoid its impact, the man drew a little on one side as he caught at the gunwale. _Whop_! Dexter struck at him with the light ash pole he held in his hand--struck at their enemy with all his might, and then turned and sat down in the boat, overcome with horror at what he had done, for he saw the man fall backward, and the water close over his head. Then there was a loud hissing, rustling sound as the boat glided through the reeds, which bent to right and left, and rose again as they passed, hiding everything which followed. The next moment the force given to the boat was expended, and it stopped outside the reeds, but only to commence another movement, for the tide bore the bows round, and the light gig began to glide softly along. "I've killed him," thought Dexter; and he turned cold with horror, wondering the while at his temerity and what would follow. "Was that his head?" said Bob, in rather a piteous voice, as he sat there resting upon his oars. "Yes," said Dexter, in a horror-stricken whisper. "I hit him right on the head." "You've been and gone and done it now, then," whimpered Bob. "You've killed him. That's what you've done. Never did see such a chap as you!" "I couldn't help it," said Dexter huskily. "Yes, that's what you always says," cried Bob, in an ill-used tone. "I wish I hadn't come with yer, that I do. I say, ought we to go and pick him up? It don't matter, do it?" "Yes, Bob; we must go back and pull him out," said Dexter, with a shudder. "Row back through the reeds. Quick, or he may be drowned!" "He won't want any drowning after that whack you give him on the head. I don't think I shall go back. Look! look!" Dexter was already looking at the frantic muddy figure upon the bank, up which it had climbed after emerging from the reeds. The man was half-mad with rage and disappointment, and he ran along shaking his fists, dancing about in his fury, and shouting to the boys what he would do. His appearance worked a miraculous effect upon the two boys. Dexter felt quite light-hearted in his relief, and Bob forgot all his sufferings and dread now that he was safely beyond their enemy's reach. Laying the blades of the sculls flat, as the boat drifted swiftly on with the tide, he kept on splashing the water, and shouting derisively-- "Yah! yah! Who cares for you? Yah! Go home and hang yourself up to dry! Yah! Who stole the boat!" Bob's derision seemed to be like oil poured upon a fire. The man grew half-wild with rage. He yelled, spat at them, shook his fists, and danced about in his impotent fury; and the more he raged, the more delighted Bob seemed to be. "Yah! Who stole the boat!" he kept on crying; and then added mocking taunts. "Here! hi!" he shouted, his voice travelling easily over the water, so that the man heard each word. "Here! hi! Have her now? Fifteen shillings. Come on. Yah!" "Quick, Bob, row!" cried Dexter, after several vain efforts to stop his companion's derisive cries. "Eh?" said Bob, suddenly stopping short. "Row, I tell you! Don't you see what he's going to do!" The man had suddenly turned and disappeared. "No," said Bob. "I've scared him away." "You haven't," said Dexter, with his feeling of dread coming back. "He's running across to the other creek to get the boat." Bob bent to his oars directly, and sent the gig rapidly along, and more and more into the swift current. He rowed so as to incline toward the further shore, and soon after they passed the mouth of the other creek. "Get out with yer," said Bob. "He ain't coming. And just you look here, young un; you hit me offull on the head with that there boat-hook, and as soon as ever I gits you ashore I'll make you go down on your knees and cry _chi_--_ike_; you see if I don't, and--" "There he is, Bob," said Dexter excitedly; and looking toward the other creek, there, sure enough, was the man in his wretched little tub of a boat, which he was forcing rapidly through the water, and looking over his shoulder from time to time at the objects of his pursuit. Bob pulled with all his might, growing pallid and muddy of complexion as the gig glided on. Matters had been bad enough before. Now the map would be ten times worse, while, to make things as bad as they could be, it soon became evident that the tide was on the turn, and that, unless they could stem it in the unequal battle of strength, they would be either swept back into their enemy's arms or else right up the river in a different direction to that which they intended to go, and, with the task before them, should they escape, of passing their enemy's lair once again. _ |
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