Pierre was in a great hurry. He pressed all sail on the schooner and started the engine, with the result that she began to cover the course at a great rate. A new moon was in its first quarter, but the sky was clouded, as it usually is on that coast, and acted as an effectual screen. Nevertheless, there was a lightening of the intense blackness which had marked the previous voyage.
The ship carried lights until she picked up the mainland, then she cloaked them. Pierre was taking the shortest route to the cave and was hugging the coast, which he evidently knew by heart, to use a local phrase. No man not completely confident as to his knowledge of that coast would have dared sail as Pierre did that night. The land loomed up visibly and now and then the crew even caught sight of a white fringe of breakers.
There was some excitement on board, and a little grumbling. The men hated to have their leave cut short, but the moodiness caused by this was to a great extent submerged in curiosity as to the reason for the sudden change of plans. Pierre never did anything without a very good reason, and it was not likely that he would risk entering the cave with the tide still two hours to fall without there being urgency of an unusual kind.
Dare and Ben shared in the curiosity and excitement. But their chagrin at having failed to get away from the Mary in time to be able to make use of their knowledge in regard to the cave's whereabouts, was great. Ben was able to resign himself to circumstances more than Dare, who, in fact, could not resign himself at all.
All the while the Mary was forging along the coast, a white wave at her prow, he was trying desperately to think of some way of escaping and getting word to his father.
Could one escape in the cave? Or would Pierre lock them up again as he had done formerly, as soon as they neared the coast where it was situated? He eyed the land, which loomed up darkly. It was no more than a quarter of a mile away. If he were ashore there he could cut across country and get to Saltern in an hour. He knew the lie of the land well enough for that, for he had observed it closely as they had passed it on their way to St. Pierre.
But the land might as well have been ten miles away for all the chance there was of his reaching it. Quarter of a mile! He could swim it easily on a night like this. At that thought his heart leaped. Why not swim it? But how to escape so as to avoid pursuit? He took a step backwards in his excitement and stumbled. His hand caught the rail and he steadied himself. The incident showed him a way out. He would pretend to fall overboard. He could do it easily, shout "cramp," dive, and come up some distance away from the schooner. Then, after waiting for the excitement which would follow his loss to cool down, he could strike out for the land.
He had no sooner visualized the feat than he decided on it, despite its hazardous nature. It was a chance, and a sporting chance, to get the news to his father in time to plan the great coup that would end, he felt sure, in the capture of the smugglers. Though his father was lame, he could go to the cave by boat. A crew of loyal men could be raked up somehow. He did not stop to think much of these difficulties. His great desire was to get word to Saltern.
He had no time to lose and he had to plan quickly. Should he confide in Ben? He decided against it. Ben would, he knew, forbid the attempt, and he had promised his father to obey him. There was nothing for it but to let Ben remain in ignorance. It was better for the success of the plan that he should. It would be hard on him, but it could not be helped.
The Mary was now nearing Saltern. Dare went to the fo'c'sle, and taking off his heavy boots put on a pair of loose slippers, which could be kicked off easily once he was in the water.
Trousers and a shirt would thus be his only impediments. Having made these preparations he went on deck. The ship was in darkness. He looked ashore and could just descry a line of breakers which betokened, he hoped, a beach. Now was his chance! By the greatest good luck the mate at this moment gave the order to pump the ship. He told Dare to draw a bucket of water. Dare jumped at the chance to fake an accident. The deck was sufficiently dark for his purpose.
Dare approached the side and in the shadow of the rigging, which obscured his movements, threw the bucket overboard. He began drawing it up hand over hand; then, as he leaned forward to take it in over the rail, he pretended to slip. He gave a shout of alarm and fell into the sea, taking a perfect header.
He dived deep and swam under water towards shore until he was forced to come to the surface. When he emerged the Mary was already some distance away, but her engine had been reversed and there were sounds of confusion rising from her deck. Evidently there was some doubt as to who had fallen overboard. He gave a shout of "Cramp!" Immediately there was an answering hail. He shouted "Help!" more feebly, then remained silent and attended upon the event.
He heard suddenly Ben's voice, hoarse with terror: "Show a light! Lower a boat! The boy's drowning!"
And closely following came Pierre's voice: "Knock that old fool on the head! He'll rouse the whole coast. How'd that boy fall overboard? Can you see him? Where is he? Give a shout and if he answers we'll lower a boat."
A guarded shout rang out. Silence followed it. Dare heard someone say: "I heard him shout 'cramp.' He's done for."
"Looks like there's nothing we can do," said Pierre. "We might as well get under way again. We've got no time to lose. Lower the spars."
At this moment Ben, who had evidently been stunned by a blow, began to recover and shout again.
"Put a sock in his mouth!" Pierre could be heard exclaiming. "Take him below and lock him up." Then the Mary began to move ahead once again.
Dare, satisfied of the success of his ruse, began to swim shorewards with a steady stroke. The water was smooth under the land and there was no wind, but the sea was terribly cold and he began to fear that he would have a real attack of cramp if he remained in for long.
He had never swum at night before, and at first he felt overwhelmed by the tremendous isolation bred by the darkness. He felt pressed down by it also, and began to realize for the first time what a puny force was his, as he lay in the arms of the eternal mother. Would she bear him up or would she smother him in her embrace?
His imagination began to exaggerate the dangers before him, and suddenly he began to lose confidence. Was he swimming in the right direction? How was he to know? He had dived, and while under water might have turned seawards instead of landwards. It was with great relief that he heard the sound of the breakers ahead of him.
Then he began to be haunted by a fear that he would not find a beach. Suppose he found the land guarded by an unscalable mountain of rock? But the beach was there. He had seen its white fringe of breakers. He might be able to see it now. He stood upright, treading water, and raised himself as high as possible, but could see nothing but the cliff-head looming repellently in the gloom high up above him. However, it was something to see even that. At least he was sure now he was swimming in the right direction. He must go on. He swam forward, vigorously at first, then less so as the long minutes passed. The surf was near enough now to deafen him to other sounds, and the sea rose in waves which rolled landward and broke, not against a wall of rock, but on a beach. To his great joy and thankfulness, he had found his landing—a narrow strip of shingle between two upright cliffs.
Dare put extra energy into his enfeebled stroke, warmed and strengthened by his success. The last few yards were the most difficult. He was thrown shorewards in headlong manner, then sucked back yards more than he had gained. Eventually, however, he got near enough the shore to touch the shingle. He stood erect and began to run forward. A sea caught him, knocked him off his feet, and threw him high and dry on the beach.
He lay panting there just long enough to recover his breath, then he began to eye the cliff before him. Was it scalable? It did not rise precipitously, like the cliffs which had their base in deep water. This much he could see In those moments when the young moon peeped from behind a cloud. It sloped back until it merged almost imperceptibly with the grassy headland. Once within reach of that upper incline and he had as good as won through. But before that could be gained the rocky base, steep enough to daunt even the boldest climber, had to be negotiated.
Every moment was of value now, and as soon as he had recovered his breath he set about exploring. The stones cut his feet cruelly. He felt his way along the base of the cliff until he came to a declivity. Water ran down it in the wet season, but now it was dry and filled with stones, dead twigs, and other rubbish. He felt that this would be a good take-off for his climb. He might even follow it to the top, if the loose rubble in it did not betray his footing.
He made a light leap, and using hands and feet, managed to secure a hold. He straddled his legs as much as possible, and pressing his body well forward so as to maintain his balance, made a move upwards.
The headland seemed an immense distance away. The rock cut his feet more cruelly than the beach and made his hold precarious. But he held firmly to his endeavour. There was no going back now. He had to go upwards or fall. So he went upwards. Step by step, feeling his way, testing every hold, he mounted towards the cliff-top. It was slow, agonizing work, and the concentration needed very fortunately prevented him from thinking overmuch of the peril of his position. Once, about half-way up, he had a sudden vision of the cliff and himself, hanging like a fly to its walls, suspended over the waiting beach below. And suddenly he looked down. The sea lay like a lake of ink, washing the beach with a white cloth. He grew dizzy at the thought of falling. Then, fearing the panic which gripped his vitals, he put all idea of falling from him and held tenaciously to his purpose.
As he mounted, the cliff grew less steep and facilitated his progress. Eventually, in reaching up a hand for a hold, he touched grass and knew that his climb was near its end. He quickened his movements. Gradually the rock was left behind. He fell on his knees and began to crawl; the cliff was still too steep for him to stand erect. The grass was soothing to his bruised feet. He used hands and knees and feet in negotiating the slippery, grassy slope, and after a last breath-taking effort reached the top, rolling himself on to the level headland, where he lay temporarily exhausted.
His intention, once he had recovered sufficiently to make a move, was to strike inland, and cut across the wooded head of land which separated him from Saltern. He did not know how far he was from the town, but he estimated it at three miles. He thought at first the best plan was to take the short cut, though it entailed the risk of getting lost in the wood. The discovery of a goat track on the edge of the cliff, however, decided him to take the longer but more certain, though far more dangerous, route along the shore. The goat track would, he thought, enable him to skirt the coast successfully. And he had only to follow it to reach his objective, whereas in the dark wood there was probably little to guide his steps, and he might end by being lost altogether and spending the night in futile searching for a way out.
Having decided on the goat track, he proceeded to prepare for it. He knew he could not long walk in his stockinged feet over such a path. He therefore stripped off his shirt, tore it in two pieces and wrapped up his feet as best he could. The result was very cumbersome, but much more comfortable; and he set out confidently on his jaunt.
Although the night was a dark one, it was not so hopelessly black as to preclude all idea of direction. Dare could descry large solid objects at a distance of ten yards, and the path was dimly visible for two yards or so. This helped him a little, but he had to go very slowly.
There were times when a slip of the foot would have meant a fall of some hundreds of feet; there were other times when the path ran level and free from obstacles, well away from the edge of the cliff. But for the most part it skirted the precipice in a nerve-racking fashion.
The transforming of his shirt into bandages for his feet left the upper part of his body bare, and he flinched at times as the branches of obstructing boughs tore his skin. Fortunately the night was warm and he did not suffer from exposure, despite his recent swim.
He was in splendid condition, and although he had accomplished two dangerous feats and was engaged on another, he felt no fatigue. He experienced an exhilaration which made effort seem almost play.
The darkness was his greatest obstacle. It hid the dangers of the track from him and caused his imagination to play nervy tricks. It made boulders take on the form of crouching creatures and stunted trees appear as men. There were several occasions when he startled and was startled by sheep and goats; but on the whole his path was free from living creatures, except those created by his imagination.
Then suddenly, as he was mounting an incline, he saw a man rise out of the earth before him. He could hardly credit his senses with the apparition, but as if to prove to him that he was not dreaming, another vague shadowy form rose up and followed the first inland.
The darkness hid Dare from them, for he was in the shadow cast by some trees, while they were on the high back of the ridge towards which he was mounting. Excited by the possibility the appearance of these nocturnal figures presented, Dare flung himself down on the turf and waited. Another figure appeared, then another and another, until he had counted ten. Then there was an end.
Each figure had had a hump-like protuberance on its back, and Dare knew as well as if he had been told by Pierre himself that he had seen the smugglers carrying their illicit spoil to their cache.
This incident tempted him to side-track his mission to Saltern and to make a personal investigation of the cache. Fortunately wisdom returned to him in time to prevent him doing this, and he kept to his original venture. He crept up behind the opening in the ground. He would have liked to take a peep down into the cave, but caution forbade. He stopped only long enough to tie his pocket handkerchief to an adjacent bush, then hurried on towards Saltern.
He had an idea that when he passed the next ridge he would see the town. And this proved to be so. To his great joy he saw Saltern light blinking its warning, and, farther off, the lights of a ship at anchor. The town itself was indicated by one or two late lights, such as those which had marked it on his arrival from St. John's.
Spurred by the thought of a successful end to his endeavour, he left the goat track and struck down straight towards the harbour. The trees had thinned out now sufficiently to enable him to see his way easily, and he soon found himself on a grassy slope which ended at the shore.
He ran down the last few yards, his momentum carrying him knee-deep into the water. He then had to cross the harbour. He did not like the idea of swimming. He had had enough of that for one night. So he set about searching the shore feverishly for a boat, and as they were fairly plentiful he soon found one.
It did not take him long to row to the town side. Once there he hastily tied the boat to the quay and set out at a run for the Customs House.