“No,” I said cautiously, “I've got no knife,” which was a lie; I did not wish my knife to go the same way as the money. He gave me some cold pig, very excellent ham it was, too, for which I was very thankful. He watched my greediness with satisfaction. I ate heartily when I saw that my confident way with him had made him more tender towards me.
“Yes,” he snorted. “Per'aps you ain't been lying to me after all. Now 'ow long will these blokes be up the 'ill 'ere?” I did not know that; but I supposed that they would go home directly the Duke's army had got as far, say, as Taunton. “But,” I added, “the Duke may be beaten. If he's beaten, all this part will be full of troops beating every bush for the rebels.” He swore at this; but his curses were only designed to hide his terror.
“Could a fellow get to sea,” he said in a whining tone. “Could a poor fellow in trouble slip away to sea, now, at one of these seaport towns? Boy, I been livin' like a wild beast all the way from Bristol, this two months. I didn't kill the feller; not dead. The knife only went into 'im a very little way, not more'n a inch. I was raised near 'ere at a farm. So I knowed of this 'ere burrow. I got 'ere two days ago, pretty near dead. Now I been penned up from the sea by these farmers comin' 'ere, doin' swottin' sentry-go all round me. I tell yer, I'll cut up sour, if they pen me in, now I'm so near got away. I been with Avery. They call Avery a pirate. They said I was a pirate. It's 'anging if they ketch me. Do yer think I could get away to Lyme or some place, to get took into a ship?” I told him, no; because I knew from what Lord Grey had told me, that the Channel was full of men-of-war searching every ship which hove in sight; besides, he did not look to me to be a very promising hand for a captain to take aboard.
“All the same,” he said, “I got to risk it. You say there may be troops coming?”
“As for that,” I answered, “the troops may be here at any moment from Exeter or Honiton. They've arrested hundreds of people everywhere around. You'd better stay in the burrow here.” He did not pay much attention to what I said. He cursed violently, as though he were a bag-pipe full of foul words being slowly squeezed by some player. At last he crawled to the passage, foaming out incoherently that he would show them, he would, let them just wait.
“You stay 'ere,” he said. “If I find you follerin' me, I'll mash your 'ed into that much slobber.” He showed me a short piece of rope which he had twisted, sailor fashion, so as to form a handle for a jagged piece of flint, which, as I could see, had been used on some one or something quite recently.
“Mogador Jack,” he said, “'e don't like people follerin' 'im.” With that he left me alone in the burrow, wondering, now that it was over, why he had not killed me. He left me quite stunned; his sudden coming into my life had been so strange. It was unreal, like a dream, to have been in an ancient Briton's burial-chamber with a mad old pirate who had committed murder. But now that he had gone, I was eager to go, too, if it could be managed. I would not stay there till the brute came back, in spite of that flint club. After waiting some little time, during which, I felt sure, he was waiting for me at the door of the burrow, I took out my pistol. I examined the charge to see that all was well; then very cautiously, I began to crawl up the passage, with my pistol in my hand.
I waited for some minutes near the door, trying to convince myself by the lie of the shadows outside that he was crouched there, ready for me. But it seemed safe. I could see no shadow at all except the tremulous fern-shadows. At last I took off my coat as a blind. I flung it through the doorway, with some force, to see if it would draw him from his hiding. Nothing happened. The ruffian did not pounce upon it. I took a few long breaths to hearten me; it was now or never. I shut my eyes, praying that the first two blows might miss my head, so that I should have time to fire. Then, on my back, with my pistol raised over my head, I forced myself out with every muscle in my body. I leaped to my feet on the instant, quickly glancing round for the madman, swinging my pistol about with my finger hard on the trigger. He was not there, after all. I might have spared myself the trouble. I was alone there in the fern, within earshot of a murmur of voices, talking excitedly. I was not going to spy into any more secrets. I was going to get out of that camp cost what it might. I made one rush through the fern in the direction of the rampart, shoving the stalks aside, as a bull knocks through jungle in Campeachy. In thirty steps I was clear of the fern, charging slap into a group of people who were giving brandy to the sentry, whom I had passed but a little while before. He was bleeding from a broken wound on his pretty hard Saxon skull. He was not badly hurt, for he was swearing lustily; but he had been stunned just long enough for my pirate man to strip him. He was dressed now in a pair of leather gaiters, all the rest of his things had been taken, the pistol with them, I saw all this at a glance, as I charged in among them. I took it all in, guessing in one swift gleam of comprehension, exactly what had happened there, as my pirate made his rush for freedom. There was no time to ask if my guess were right or not.
“Out of my way,” I shouted, shoving my pistol towards the nearest of the group. “Out of my way, or I shall fire.” They made way for me. I charged down hill by the way I had come. Some one cried “Stop en.” Another shouted “Shoot en, maister.” There came a great bang of a gun over my head. But I was going down hill like a rabbit, into the gorse, into the bracken, into the close cover of the heath. Glancing back, I saw a dozen excited people rushing down the rampart after me. Some flung stones; some ran to catch horses to chase me. But I had the start of them. I was down the hill, over the hedge, in the lane, in no time. There, a hundred yards away, I saw my friends the troopers leading my cob. I shouted to them. They heard me. They came up to me at a gallop. In ten seconds more we were sailing away together.
“You been getting into scrapes, master,” said one of the troopers. “You doan't want to meddle with the folk in these parts.”