THURSDAY._THE SECOND DAY_.
CHAPTER V.DAVY JONES’ LOCKER.
The fear of the French returning suddenly shook the drowsiness out of myeyes. I gave them a final rub, then stumbled down the crooked stepsafter Nancy. How she could have guessed that it was now near dawn—as inour corner it was still pitch-dark—was a mystery to me; but probably thehabit of waking up daily at an extremely early hour, as was the wont ofmilk-maids in those days, had accustomed her to know the time to anicety.
We crept as quietly as we could down from our uncomfortable hiding-place,so stiff and cramped that we could only move with difficulty, and everybone made its particular position known with great accuracy, even to uswho were totally unacquainted with anatomy. Then we carefullyreconnoitred our situation.
[Picture: Ransacked Farmhouse]
As far as we could see, looking through the church windows on every side,we gazed only into the dim dusk of early morning into a lifeless world.No little bird as yet sent up his morning song; there were no sheep orcattle to be seen, their lawful owners or the invaders having driven themoff to securer quarters or to sudden death, as the case might be. Thechurch itself, after the late uproar, seemed very silent now; the firehad quickly died down, smothered by the pillow; only the heavy smell ofsmoke remained to prove that the wild doings of the night had not been aterrifying dream.
We crept along to the leper’s hole, using the other end of it now; forthe unfortunate outcasts of former days had gazed through the tube intothe church, while we unhappy fugitives looked warily from the interiorinto the porch, to see if haply some blue-coated soldier might have beenleft there on guard. But if this had been the case he had certainlydeclined to stay, which was not unlikely considering the lax discipline,or, rather, total want of discipline, which prevailed in the Frenchforce. At all events, the porch was empty.
So after a little getting behind each other and a slight backwardness ingoing forward, owing more to uncertainty of light than natural timidity,at last we ventured out boldly into the porch, and took a good look, ournecks stretched out over the churchyard and round the country. Theformer seemed silent and deserted, the tombstones looming darkly into dimtwilight, which still lay heavy on the land; nor could we even discernany sound of snoring. Carnunda was crowned with fires and thronged withsoldiers, but it was not very near, and we thought we might slip awayunnoticed. So, cautiously we closed the door behind us, and fared forth.The porch lay to the south of the church; we were stealing round thebuilding to the north, or seaward side, as being further removed fromCarnunda, when we were stopped by a sudden shout, proceeding apparentlyfrom the air above us. Our hearts stood still and our blood froze withterror—at least, I know mine did, and Nancy turned an ashy white in thegrey dawn. In an instant we looked up to the place from which our enemyhad spied us—the roof of the church, where he had been stationed as asentinel. He sat astride on the ridge, which could be easily gained bymeans of a flight of steps, made on the outside of the roof, as alook-out place from which to signal to those at sea; but never designedfor such a purpose as the present. The discipline had not been so lax aswe hoped. For a moment we were stupefied, wishing only that one of thegraves would open and take us in. Then we took to our heels. Down camethe Frenchman clattering over the roof of the church, from the edge ofwhich he dropped to the ground, only a distance of eight or nine feet;then he came full cry after us. His shouts had attracted the attentionof a couple of his fellows, who were strolling along the cliffs in searchof what they could devour, or, still better, drink. They joined thechase instantly, and all three came full tear after Nancy and myself, whohad headed straight for the cliffs, as one of our own foxes would havedone, though what we were to do when we gained them save plunge into thesea we knew not. However, we were not fated to gain them just atpresent, for one of the Frenchmen had outrun Nancy, whose limbs werestill cramped, and who was weary from want of rest and sleep. I wasstiff and tired too, but fear of the French made me fly, and would havedone so I think had I been doubled up by rheumatism. However, though Nanwas caught, and warned me of her disaster by a shrill scream, I am gladto say she preserved her usual Welsh spirit, as she plainly showed byfetching the Frenchman a sounding box on the ear. I hesitated what todo, divided between fear of the French and the desire of standing by myfriend. I am glad to say I had advanced a few steps towards an attemptat rescue, when some dark body rushed past me in the dawning light, andere I could even exclaim, the Frenchman lay flat on the ground. Theother two, half drunk, and wholly stupefied, perceiving that things weregoing somewhat crookedly, departed as quickly as they could, making forthe camp at Carnunda. Our rescuer had a mind to follow them, but Annlaid a restraining hand upon his arm.
“Oh, Dio bach,” {115} she said, “I am glad to see you this time, if Inever was before.”
And she really looked as if she could have kissed him.
“Nancy, how came you here; why didn’t you go away with the rest?” askedDavy Jones, abruptly, his voice rough and angry. He had had too great ascare to be tender or even civil.
“Why, I had to stop and see to everything—and the silver spoons,” saidNancy, quite meekly.
“Hang the silver spoons,” said Davy. “Now what’s to be done with thiscarcase?” And he pointed to the unconscious Frenchman. “Get out of theway, Nancy, and I’ll shove him over the cliff.”
“No, no, don’t waste time,” exclaimed Nancy; “we’ll have the whole lotafter us in a minute; they’re as thick as ants on Carnunda. How can weget away?”
“Down the cliff as fast as you can. I’ve got a boat down below; if wecan get to the caves we’ll do; but I had some of them after me a littlewhile ago, and I landed here to get rid of them, and to find out what hadbecome of you, for Llewelyn of Brestgarn told me you were somewherenear.”
“Llewelyn is a prisoner; did you see him? Is he safe?” asked Nancy, aswe hurried along.
“Hush, quick and quiet; I’ll tell you in the boat,” whispered Davy.
We plunged down through dry bracken, gorse bushes, and large boulders ofstone, interspersed with steep pieces of cliff. We jumped, slid, andtumbled down, clutching hold of grasses and ferns to stay our speed, andin a few moments we had reached the level of the sea.
The boat had been so cunningly hidden—with the dexterity of constantpractice—that Nan and I quite failed to discover it. Davy, however, hadit out in a trice.
“Jump in, boy, and give a hand to Nancy.”
Nancy did not require a hand, she jumped in very steadily, and took therudder. Davy threw me one oar, took the other himself, and we were off,stealing noiselessly along under the great cliffs, where darkness stilldwelt. But the sky over our heads grew lighter every moment, and weruefully perceived that ere long it would be broad day. Yet it seemedsafer to be on the water than on the land, where we could even nowdiscern dim figures looking for us.
“Ah, what is that?” in a horror-struck whisper from Ann.
_That_ was a dark blue object, very unpleasing to behold, sodden withwater, and wedged in a crevice of the cliffs.
“That is one of them,” said Davy, grimly, “cleft to the chin by a scythein a Welshman’s hands. The ruffians had burnt his cottage, with his oldmother in it; he caught this one, that’s all. I wish I had served thatfellow up there the same, Nancy.”
“Where have you been, Davy?” I asked, to divert his remorseful thoughts,and unable to restrain my curiosity.
“Among these blacks of parlez-vous. They nabbed me last night as neat ascould be—we had a bit of a scrimmage though. I was coming back from alittle bit of business.”
“Oh, Davy, you shouldn’t!” from Ann.
“And I got in too near, never expecting ships here; who would? We wereround the corner and on them almost, before we knew it; we made off then,but they saw us and gave chase. We made as fast as we could for a placeI know, a good out-of-the-way cave—we’ve got a few about here, Nan—andthey came after us. They
’d some man who knew the coast among them, thatI’ll swear; any stranger must have found out the sharpness of our rocks;but not a bit of it. On they came quite comfortable, and close behind usthey were as we got to the mouth of the cave. Levi Mathias stood up inthe bow of the boat ready to jump ashore when one of the French marinesshot him. I hope to have something to say before that’s done with yet.Out tumbled our men anyhow, running through the surf and up the cliffs,into the darkness anywhere, for the Frenchmen carried torches as well asmuskets. Well, they nabbed me.”
“You didn’t like to leave Levi,” said Nancy, softly.
“I didn’t like to leave the brandy,” said Davy. “They got it, though,and me, tight enough. It put them into a good temper, however, and theydidn’t shoot me through the head, like they did a farmer that they madehelp to roll up their casks of ammunition, when he tried to escape. Theymade me carry up one of my own kegs which went against the grain; thenthey took me to their chief.”
“Did you see the chief?” I asked, eagerly.
“’Deed to goodness, yes—General Tate—no more a Frenchman than I am;Irish, I’m thinking. He seemed very uneasy, and none of his men mindedhim. I had company—John Owen, of the sloop _Britannia_, laden with culmfor Llanstinan—they didn’t care for culm, and were cross to him, and amortal fright he was in, but had sense enough left to tell them a lot oflies. Then I saw Llewelyn, and had a word on the sly with him; he toldme you were hereabouts; I watched my chance, and an hour or two ago Islipped down over the cliffs, seized this boat, and made off; but theysaw me from one of the ships, and gave chase, and—”
A cry interrupted him, succeeded by a loud splashing of oars.
“And, hang them, there they are again. Why-ever couldn’t you hold yourtongue, Dan?”
This was unjust, as Davy had done all the talking himself; but thepresent was no moment for arguing. We bent to the oars with a will andin silence, till my hands were blistered, my heart panting, and my backbreaking, and still the enemy were gaining on us.
Nancy leant forward.
“Change with me for a spell, Dan. I can row.”
On we went again, fast, faster, and still the other boat came on after usyet more rapidly—it was like a nightmare. We came in very close to thecliffs now, and Davy took both oars. In between two reefs of rocks wewent—a deep channel, yet full of treacherous windings and turnings.
“I think we’ll do now,” said Davy. “Please Providence, they may easilybe smashed to atoms here.”
And he looked gratefully at the sharp rocks.
But I turned after a little, and beheld that phantom-like pursuer stillfollowing us closely through the windings of the passage. The reefs hadnow become high cliffs, and seemed to close us in on every side; but aswe came round another corner we saw before us a low archway. Throughthis we shot, and we found ourselves as it were at the bottom of atea-cup, with precipitous walls on every side; just in front of us alittle sandy beach. Davy pushed the boat towards a narrow slit in therocks.
“Jump in there, my girl,” he said. “Don’t be afraid; if you slip, I’llcatch you.”
Nancy jumped at once, I followed her, landing half in and half out of thewater, but quickly drawing myself up to be out of Davy’s way, who camewith a mighty rush—at the same time spinning the boat to the other sideof the creek—only just in time, the Frenchmen were in the archway.
“Go on as far as you can,” whispered Davy. “If they see this slit, theycan only come one at a time, and—”
He didn’t finish, but it wasn’t necessary. Nan and I stumbled on in theinterior, and found ourselves ere long in quite a large cave, where evenin the dusky light we could discern objects extremely like kegs, alsobales and packages of all sorts. Outside we heard the cries and screamsof the Frenchmen, baulked of their prey; for (probably fortunately forthemselves) they did not discover the narrow and hidden entrance to ourcave. We were soon joined by Davy, who remarked that if they had a guidewith them, there were a few things he didn’t know yet.
“There’s plenty of food here—and spirits—if we want to stay,” hecontinued; “but perhaps we may as well get to the top and see what isgoing on.”
The Fishguard Invasion by the French in 1797 Page 6