The Wolf Patrol: A Tale of Baden-Powell's Boy Scouts

by John Finnemore

CHAPTER XXIII

THE OLD WATER-GATE

This was very mysterious. Chippy could not make out what had happened. The boat had not sunk. Had it done so, the men would never have gone down without a sound. The scout thought a moment, then seized his sweep, and drove his skiff square across the river. Had the men gone out towards the middle? But Chippy opened fresh sweeps of the starlit stream, and all empty. Save for himself, there did not seem to be a single floating thing in the neighbourhood.

Now, in working across, Chippy had also gone down with the stream, so that by the time he was well out he had gained a point directly in front of the warehouse. He glanced towards the dark mass at the water's edge, and started. A pin-point of light flashed out at its base far below window or doorway. The light burned steadily for a few seconds, then went out as suddenly as it appeared.

'Looks to me as if some'dy struck a match over theer,' reflected Chippy. 'But who? The water looked empty enough. I'll have a look.'

He worked his boat round, and drove it steadily towards the great building, shaping his course a little upstream, in order to bring himself above it once more. He watched closely as he sculled, and when he checked his way not ten yards from the bank he was quite certain of two things: he had not seen the light again, and he had not seen any boat leave the front of the warehouse.

He let himself drift slowly down, staring and staring, and full of wonder. His eyes were now so used to the starshine on the river that he could see the water in front of the building like a smooth, pale plain, and it was empty—it was perfectly empty. Who had struck that light about the water-level? It was all very strange and mysterious.

Chippy let his craft drift. It moved slowly on the slow-running stream, but presently it was under the shadow of the lofty wall, and as it slid along, Chippy looked out more sharply than ever for the source of that strange light.

He stood in the stern of the boat drifting down in complete silence, with not even the gurgle of the sweep to betray his presence. And to this complete silence Chippy owed the discovery which he made about midway of the river-front.

He was staring straight at the blackness of the wall, when suddenly a light appeared in it. To his immense surprise, he found himself looking up a kind of long, arched tunnel, at whose farther end a man stood in a boat, a light in his hand. Only for an instant did Chippy behold this strange vision. His skiff drifted on, and he was faced once more by the darkness of the solid wall.

Chippy drew a deep breath, dug his sweep into the water, and sculled rather more than half a circle. This brought him opposite the mouth of the tunnel, but well out from the wall.

'That's wheer they'd slipped in,' reflected Chippy. 'Theer's the light again. Wot does it all mean? I never heerd o' that hole afore.'

Chippy was puzzled because he did not know the history of Elliotts' warehouse. It was a fairly old building, having been erected about the middle of the eighteenth century. Its basement had been pierced by a water-gate, which gave small barges direct entrance to the building, their contents being raised to the floor above through a large trap-door. But in the course of time, and under the influence of great floods, the river scoured out its bed in such fashion as to alter its depth against the wall of the warehouse, and largely to block the water-gate with mud. Sooner than undertake the expense of dredging in order to keep the water-gate open, the owners abandoned its use, and knocked a doorway in the front, and hauled up from the barges as they lay outside.

But on a very low tide it was possible yet to pole a small boat up the old water-gate, and gain the trap-door, which still existed, though unused, and almost unknown to the present generation of workers in the warehouse.

It took the scout a very short time to make up his mind. He was soon sculling for the mouth of the archway, which, now he knew where to look for it, could be made out as a darker patch in the dusk of the wall. With the utmost care Chippy laid the blunt nose of his craft square in the middle of the archway, and sculled very gently up. The air was thick and close and damp, but a slight current set towards him. He felt it blowing on his face, and knew that there was some opening at the top of this strange passage. He only went a short distance up, then checked his way, and his boat floated quite still on the quiet water of this hidden entrance.

Ten minutes passed, and then Chippy heard a voice. 'That's as much as we can shift to-night,' it said; and a second voice said: 'All right; drop a glim on the boat.'

At the next moment a strong shaft of light darted downwards into the darkness, and lighted up an empty boat floating within five yards of Chippy. Luckily for the latter, the light came from a dark lantern, whose slide had been turned, and was only a brilliant circle which did not discover the daring scout.

Chippy held his breath, and watched. He saw that aloft the light was pouring through an oblong opening; the latter was formed by the raising of one of the two doors of the big trap. He had need to hold his breath; the smallest turn of the lantern would throw the light along the tunnel, and he would spring into full view of the thieves. His position would then be desperate, for escape was out of the question. They had only to drop into their boat and pursue, when his clumsy old broken sweep would prove no match for a pair of oars. So Chippy held himself dead still, and watched with fascinated eyes the strong shaft of light pouring on the boat before him.

Presently a strongly corded bale slid into the light, and was lowered by a thin rope. The rope was tossed after it, and the same thing happened with three more bales; and then a pair of legs came into sight, and a man slid swiftly down a heavy rope which dangled above the boat.

The man swung himself down, and dropped among the bales. Chippy could not see his face, but the scout's eye saw the man's hand outstretched as he balanced himself with a sailor's skill in the swaying boat, and marked that the little finger was missing.

'I'll stow these, and then give ye a hand wi' the flap,' said the man in the boat. 'It'll never do to let it down wi' a bang, because of our friend outside.' And both of them chuckled.

Now was Chippy's chance, while the men were busy with the task of closing the heavy flap with as little noise as possible. He had been standing with the sweep in his hand. He began, with the tiniest, the softest of strokes, to turn his boat round. But his discovery would have been certain had not the men been so busy with the task of reclosing the heavy trap. It fell into place with a soft thud, which echoed along the water-gate, and as it did so Chippy glided into the open, and turned the nose of his craft down-stream. He now put out all his strength, sculled a dozen hard, swift strokes, then held his hand, and floated close beside the wall in the deep shadow.

From this cover he saw the boat glide out and the men give way as they gained the open stream. They pulled out some distance, and so skilfully did they use the muffled oars that Chippy scarce caught a sound.

'Rullocks muffled, too,' thought the scout; and very likely the thieves had muffled the rowlocks also.