It was sharp work, and with all their native stubbornness the little party fought their way on, attacking and carrying yard after yard of the passage, forcing the smugglers to retreat from vantage ground to vantage ground, and always higher and higher up the rocks.
The attacking party were at a terrible disadvantage, for the place was to them like a maze, while the smugglers kept taking them in the rear, and striking at them from the most unexpected positions, till the sailors were hot with a rage that grew fiercer with every blow.
At the end of ten minutes two of the men were down, and the gunner and Tom Tully panting and breathless with their exertions; but far from feeling beaten they were more eager than ever to come to close quarters with their antagonists, for, in addition to the fighting spirit roused within them, they were inflamed with the idea of the large stores of smuggled goods that they would capture: velvets and laces and silks in endless quantities, with kegs of brandy besides. That they had hit accidentally upon the party who had seized Mr Leigh they had not a doubt, and so they fought bravely on till they reached a narrower pass amongst the rocks than any they had yet gone through. So narrow was it that they could only approach in single file, and, hemmed in as they were with the rocks to right and left, the attack now resolved itself into a combat of two—to wit, Billy Waters and a great broad-shouldered fellow who disputed his way. The men who backed up the big smuggler were apparently close behind him; but it was now too dark to see, and, to make matters worse for the gunner, there was no room for him to swing his cutlass; all he could do was to make clumsy stabs with the point, or try to guard himself from the savage thrusts made at him with the capstan bar or club by the smuggler.
This went on for some minutes without advantage on either side, till, growing tired, Billy Waters drew back for a moment. “Now, my lads,” he whispered, “I’m going to roosh him. Keep close up, Tom Tully, and nail him if I go down.”
Tom Tully growled out his assent to the order given to him, and the next moment the gunner made a dash forward into the darkness, striking sharply downwards with his cutlass, so sharply that the sparks flew from the rock, where his weapon struck, while on recovering himself for a second blow he found that it, too, struck the rock, and Billy Waters uttered a yell as he started back, overcome with superstitious horror on finding himself at the end of the narrow rift, and quite alone.
“What’s the matter, matey?” growled Tom Tully; “are you hurt?”
“No. Go and try yourself,” said the gunner, who was for the moment quite unnerved.
Tom Tully squeezed by, and, making a dash forward, he too struck at the rock, and made the sparks fly, after which he poked about with the point of his cutlass, which clinked and jingled against the stones.
“Why, they ar’n’t here!” he cried. “Look out!”
Every one did look out, but in vain. They were in a very narrow passage between two perpendicular pieces of rock, and they had driven the smugglers back step by step into what they expected to find to be a cavern crammed with treasure; but now that the end was reached they could feel nothing in the dark but the flat face of the rock, and this seemed to slope somewhat over their heads, and that was all.