by G. A. Henty
"It is getting dark," the lady said; "I would that my cousin James hadnot detained us so long at Richmond, and then after all he was unable toaccompany us. I like not being out on the river so late."
"No, indeed, my lady," the woman replied; "I have heard tell lately muchof the doings of the river pirates. They say that boats are often pickedup stove in and broken, and that none know what had become of theiroccupants, and that bodies, gashed and hewn, are often found floating inthe river.
"How horrible," the girl said; "your tale makes me shiver, Martha; Iwould you had said nothing about it till we were on land again.
"Do not be afraid, Edith," the lady said cheerfully; "we shall soon besafe at Westminster."
There were now only two or three boats to be seen on the river. Theywere nearing the end of their journey now, and the great pile of theAbbey could be seen through the darkness. A boat with several men init was seen rowing across the river towards the Lambeth side. It wasawkwardly managed.
"Look out!" the steersman of the boat coming down stream shouted; "youwill run into us if you don't mind."
An order was given in the other boat, the men strained to their oars,and in an instant the boat ran with a crash into the side of the other,cutting it down to the water's edge. For a minute there was a wild sceneof confusion; the women shrieked, the watermen shouted, and, thinkingthat it was an accident, strove, as the boat sank from under them, toclimb into that which had run them down. They were speedily undeceived.One was sunk by a heavy blow with an oar, the other was stabbed witha dagger, while the assailants struck fiercely at the old man and thewomen.
At this moment, however, a third boat made its appearance on the scene,its occupants uttering loud shouts. As they rowed towards the spot theirapproach was heralded by a shower of arrows. Two of the ruffians werestruck--one fell over mortally wounded, the other sank down into theboat.
"Row, men, row," their leader shouted, "or we shall all be taken."
Again seizing their oars, the rowers started at full speed towards theLambeth shore. The arrows of their pursuers still fell among them, twomore of their number being wounded before they reached the oppositeshore. The pursuit was not continued, the newcomers ceasing to row atthe spot where the catastrophe had taken place. Walter stood up in theboat and looked round. A floating oar, a stretcher, and a sheepskinwhich had served as a cushion, alone floated.
Suddenly there was a choking cry heard a few yards down stream, andWalter leapt into the river. A few strokes took him to the side of thegirl, and he found, on throwing his arm round her, that she was stillclasped in her mother's arms. Seizing them both, Walter shouted to hiscomrades. They had already turned the boat's head, and in a minute werealongside.
It was a difficult task to get the mother and child on board, as thegirl refused to loose her hold. It was, however, accomplished, andthe child sat still and quiet by Walter's side, while his comradesendeavoured to stanch the blood which was flowing from a severe wound inher mother's head. When they had bound it up they rubbed her hands, andby the time they had reached the steps at Westminster the lady openedher eyes. For a moment she looked bewildered, and then, on glancinground, she gave a low cry of delight at seeing her child sitting byWalter's side.
On reaching the steps the boys handed her over to the care of thewatermen there, who soon procured a litter and carried her, she beingstill too weak to walk, to the dwelling of the Earl of Talbot, whereshe said she was expected. The apprentices rowed back to London Bridge,elated at the success of their enterprise, but regretting much that theyhad arrived too late to hinder the outrage, or to prevent the escape ofits perpetrators.