The Steel Duichman

Star (Christchurch), Volume LXVI, Issue 20361, 19 July 1934, Page 18

The Steel Duichman

A GREAT STORY OF ADVENTURE ON LAND AND SEA

(Author of “Paradise Orchid, “The Green Hat,” etc.)

By

Vincent Cornier

CHAPTER XX. Ambushed. The ring of the swarthy Slouglistowe men converged on Merlincote and Cleone Bain bridge. If tlieir first intention had been the salvage of that sinister torpedo, they had been quick to change their minds. The complete concert of their actions was just too sure to be uninstructed. On the other hand, they could not have known that Merlincote and Cleone were intending that morning walk; no more than they could have known that the torpedo would be seen by them and their curiosity aroused. Despite, hie growing alarm for their safety, Guy Merlincote could not help considering this much. On the face jf it there was a remarkable little problem to be pondered on . . . but no time to ponder. Without one word being said, the Slo’stoweiane had completely surrounded them. The evil grins and the low cunning of the men revolted. Merlincote fumed as he saw them intent on Cleone’s shrinking—it appeared to amuse them mightily. And, the devil of it was, he could not lift a linger to help her or himself. That was literally true. The fish spears and the long boathooks were actually touching their bodies. . . . Any attempt at quick movement would have resulted either in a nasty gash or even dangerous wounds. “Well, and what’s the game?” He hardly could utter the word*;, so incensed he was. Cleone, who had watched his every move in the fights with Van Klaus and his men on the Bainbridge “eye,” had never seen this rage in him. “What the devil d’you think you’re doing?” After a while there came one grimly humorous reply: “Fishin* for t’Dutchman’s pot.” In a sudden illuminating flash of comprehension, Merlincote understood the motive behind all this. Van Klaus had sworn he never went back on his word. \an Klaus had also sworn that he would meet with Merlincote again, and on that meeting would kill . . . The Sloughstowe men acknowledged him as their “chief.” And doubtless, before he set sail on the high seas ais a modern pirate, Van Klaus had given instructions that both of them—whatever the pretext or the chance-—should be captured. “It won’t be long,” Merlincote curiously regained his command, and answered the men in much the same way as he had been addressed, “before that comes to boil. When it doee, mark my words, there’ll be a lot of scum like you to gather off it!” “Tha’s gotten a neck, hasn’t tha?” one of the men—Merlincote knew him well, Dick Haggerston inquired. “Theer’s nobbut a bit o’ poke wi* one o’ these spears V be done, an’ Van Klaus’ll be saved t’ job o’ settlin’ ye kissel’! Happen thou’d better keep thy head shut, Mester Merlincot’, or tha’ll be sorry for’t.” “Aye, that thou will an’ ail!” Someone else in the clustering men made that observation, and Merlineote’s heart leapt. He recognised the voice as that of Hardistv, the “hardy ’Ahy ’Ardietv” whom he had turned off the coble and to whom he had given freedom on the night of the fight on the Bainbridge “eye.” “Least said, soonest’.-* mended wi* ye, just now, Merlincote.” It was only a soupcon, a tincture—a bland and tiny leaven of sound—that Hardistv managed to put into his last warning, but he did it with all he had intended. In subtlest fashion he had conveyed to Merlincote that he was one of the party, by its chance, but not of its sentiments. Hard to explain in words . . . but easy to understand from emotion; Guy Merlincote had. an ally at hand, no matter how things fared. ’Arry ’Ardisty was not forgetting that debt he owed. Hence, to Cleone's boundcn surprise. Merlincote shrugged his shoulders and apparently capitulated. “As you say,” he muttered. “As vou say! And what’s wanted new?” “Tha’s talkin’!” Haggerston, who was by way of being all as gigantic as the formidable Ryjcr van Klaus, put down the spear he had held. “Thou’s noan a bad sort o’ chap, Merlincot’, an’ that’s sayin’ it after hevin’ knawn ye these eight veers agone—gie’s thy word that tha’ll noan start any muckin’ abaht, an’ we’ll let ye dahn as lightly as nowt.” “I don’t see that I can do otherwise.” Merlincote shot a bleak glance at Cleone and coloured. “One man can’t set up against twenty —you have mv word.” At a grunted order from Haggerston. the menacing barbs were lowered and the men thinned, back into less of a group. Only ’Arry ’Ardisty appeared opposed to this much. “Thou’s takking a hell of a lot on yersel’, ’Aggerston,” he growled. “Thou’* noan bin up agen this chap, like me an van Klaus an’ Yankee Joe. He shot at us wi’out so much as winkin’. Tak’ care he’s noan carryin’ a gun now—here.” Hardisty made a definite shambling move forward. “I’ll do it inysen’!” Since no one attempted to stop him—indeed, there was a general shrinking and a sudden wariness at Hardisty’s reminder of Merlincote’s “hair-trigger” propensities, often discussed in Sloughstowe after the fight —Hardisty came up to - Merlincote.

“Xah, then, mister blurry-clever,” .he snarled, “we’ll see if thou’s bahn t’ do any cracker-jackin’ this trip.” He clenched a fist and pushed it into the barrister’s neck. “I’ve half a mind t swipe tli’ snout of ye.”

“Niver heed what thou’s a mind t’ do, ’Any,” Haggerston warned. “Be quick an’ go through his pockets. With a foetid kind of a sidelong glance at the self-constituted master ol ceremonies, ’Arry ’Ardisty went through Merlincote’s clothing, muttering all the while. Probably Haggerston thought this sounding was all the rebellion Hardisty dared against his curt orders. But Guy Merlincote knew differently. To his near hearing, Hardisty’s appar ently sulphurous growling resolved itseli (among various lurid and quite obscene profanities) into clipped-off reassurances of lijs intention to work on the barrister’s side —“leave it to me—l’ll see that neither ye nor the lassie comes t’ harm —gotten yan at ’ome aboot her age—damn swine that van Klaus—ride on a bit easy rein—afore God, thou’U not come t’ any botherment—trust me now —T trusted thee.” It was honest and it was bold. In every word he uttered, Merlincote sensed that the man spoke only the truth. There was no bargaining; no application for any immunity—just a simple return being made for Merlincote’s formei clemency. More and more was lie sure that neither Cleone nor himself was in deadly danger.

Nevertheless, that did not augur foi there not being danger at all. Even with Hardisty's secret alliance, three against all this gang did not count at all nicely. “Satisfied?” Merlincote played at Hardisty’s game. He shot out the question like a jet of vitriol as the burly little fellow stepped back from his fruit less examination. “I’m not usually cluttered up with weapons of offence for ali your talk to the contrary. Now, it you’ll keep your filthy paws off me, we’ll be getting on to the next item on the programme.” “Which, Mester Merlincot’,” Haggcrston laughed, “is as simple as tumblin’ often an ’ouse-end. Thou an’ thy young woman’ll nobbut tak’ a li’le walk wi* us along t’ sands—all to’gitlier-like. It’s broad enow light; we don’t want any sort o’ fiddlin’ on —a walk of a mile oi so, t’ th’ cliffs yonder.” That meant they were not going to cross Hartness Slem. Had it been otherwise, Merlincote would have eagerly set off —for the police had not for one moment relaxed their vigilance, and the semi-Spanish settlement of Slouglistowe would be alive with them, and with their glasses; everyone moving across the wastes was scanned and renorted on. But the sandwards trek was a different matter. Low-lying as the marshlands were, still there were long hummocks and dunes fringing it from the sea, sufficiently high to obscure a careful negotiation of the beach. The Slo’-stowe men were wise in their generation. “All right!” Merlincote turned to Cleone. “I don’t think we’ll have to grumble too much, dearest —take hold of my arm and keep your pecker up!” She smiled at him and ignored the grim crew.

“It seems altogether sticky and hopeless, Guy, but we’ve been through* worse than this.” Her air was almost gay. Whether she had heard and understood some of Hardisty’s reassurances or whether she was blindly, fatalistically, trusting to her lover for eventual triumph, could not at that time be determined. However it was, Guy Merlincote took heart of grace from her attitude. More and ever more was he convinced that this quiet and seriously minded Cleone of his was beyond all price and estimationHere, again, she was facing disastrous circumstance as some women face a day’s ordinary household routine. Her grip on his arm had not so much as a tremor . . . So they set out . . . CHAPTER XXI. The Labyrinth. To pgy the Slo-stoweians their justest 'lues, on t\o occasion did they go out of their ways to embarrass their captives. With a grave and quite odd reticence of speech and demeanour they accompanied Merlincote and Cleone along the sand walk. Merlincote judged that one of two factors operated in this much—either they were faithful to their olden creed of not “ going back on” the stranger within their gates, and were paying Merlincote tlio grace-fee, however unwilling, of his eight years’ residence among them—or they were true to the Don-strain in them. They had their prisoners; those prisoners were on parole, and unless and until they broke that parole, they would bo treated with every consideration and courtesy. In such bestial types it was strange to find any observance of ethics —but there it was. Guy Merlincote made a decided mental note of it for future reference . * It cannot be said that he was otherwise than heart-sick as they passed the long bulwarks of the marshes. He knew that the searching lenses of the police watchers had only to sight one glimpse of them and there would be a hurlyburly and a pursuit that would not rest until they had been rescued. But the Slouglistowe men did not allow of that. Whenever they had to pass an “owle”—a breach in the low line of the dunes through which waters flowed out of and into the Slems, according to the tide-set—they clustered around their captives and completely hid them from any view. All the police could see was a passing little mob of villagers, out with their spears after plaice or other inshore lying fish ... a common enough occurrence. At last the bold red face of the cliff that bounded the marsh to the south was reached. Fretted and torn, ravened by incessant warfare with the biting seas, scooped and tunnelled and riddled like a gigantic fragment of honeycomb, it reared up for some three hundred and fifty feet above their heads. Merlincote was puzzled —surely the men did not contemplate hiding them away in one of those long galleries—those lean and dripping caverns—in that facej! At high tide they weie fiiieu. At low tide entry into them was appallingly dangerous. So friable and “touchy” were the roofings of the caves, the attendant risk of entering them was somewhat equivalent to negotiating a pit-shaft after a heavy fall of stone; the least sound, the tiniest stumble . . . and down would rain a thousand tons of earth. But, to his horror, 4hat was what the Slouglistowe men intended. And, realising as much, he stopped dead. ; “Just a minute,” he protested, “just a ' minute! Remember there’s a woman , here —surely to goodness you’re not ( going into one of those foul holes?” Haggerston grinned and spat out a quid of rough tobacco. , “Y’ needn't t’ fash yersel,’ Mester ; Merlincot’, nowt’ll happen t’ either ye or th’ young leddy. Dosta think we’re "sichi like fules as t’ ” 1 “Oh, get ’em in, ’Aggerston” Thus 1 was again the truculence of Hardistry. ■ “Hell fire, what’s tha want t’ stop an’ - narlez-vous wi’ tli’ likes of ’em for? \ If they gits tlieer necks cracked, it’s . lobbut so much t’ th’ good, says I.” There was just a fear that Hardistry, • in his attempts to play on both sides I of the field, was going to overdo it. ? Merlincote feared for the outcome—for' s once, his fierce fervour rang false, and Haggerston paused an appreciable while, t with sere wed-up eyes assessing Hardisl try, before replying: “Thou keep thy thoughts to y’ self, t Ardisty. Thou’s main bloodthirsty all l on a sudden, isn’t tha? . . . I’m boss ; here, so dry y’ tongue afore I gies it sum mat t’ slaver about.” 1 Haggerston curtly rounded on the bar--1 rister and Gleoue. “Thou’ll ha’ t’ go in, like or no. Xah ■ then—don’t be waitin’ all day—” ' Two or three men were already filing in to a certain tunnel. Merlincote argued that they wouldn’t go so casually about 1 that proceeding if any real danger •existed ... he drew Cleone close and

whispered to her. “I don’t think we need get scared, dear. I'll bet these beggars have a regular smugglers’ warren in that cliff. By the look of it, the yarns about old Sloughstowe aren’t all founded on moonshine and rum—" “Th' less thou’s gotten t’ talk about, th' better we’ll all bo pleased,” came Haggerston’s warning. “Get in after those chaps, an’ don’t blether.” There was no help for it. A word given, with Merlincote, was a word to he sustained. Whatever the outcome he had pledged Cleone and himself to strictest compliance in the Slo’stoweians’ every demand. Cursing under his breath he gingerly helped Cleone along—and stepped into utter darknesa. After the rough twist and turn of the first few steps, Merlincote waa astounded at the sudden change of “feeling” under his feet. He seemed to be treading on a carpet of the softest and deepest pile . . . and always ascending; not into rank and foetid airs and the stench of sea caves, but into clean and iodised atmospheres of mightiest cold, but exhllarting to the blood. And all the while a light grew. At first it was no more than a halt between darkness absolute and the moonless midnight sense of visibility that is always above the world, then it was a dreary glittering like the glow of phosphorescent decay. Strangely enough, it came from the walls at their side, and from the “carpeting” beneath their feet . . . and it was the glow of phosphorescence; the sea fire of living weed and innumerable life. This far the tides could reach. This far the growth of eea stuffs was possible, and with it all that fine and powerful elixir which, for want of a better term — usually goes under the -generic title of ozone . . . when it is really nothing of the kind. The soft plodding of their captors pounded behind Cleone and Merlincote. Evidently the Slouglistowe men were well acquainted with the labyrinthine way. There was never a falter nor a false sftp from any of them—and, taking on more confidence from this, both proceeded with more calm. Apparently there were ways and wiles in the heart of the great cliff that were unknown to those outside authorities whose many notices blazoned “Danger” all round. (To be continued daily.)