“Your signal, Laud, is late indeed, but better late than never.”
That voice was too well known by Margaret: ’twas the hated countryman’s—’twas John Luff’s.
This fellow seized her in his arms, and, as a tiger would swing a fawn over his back, so poor Margaret was swung over his shoulders in an instant. The last effort a defenceless female can make is the shriek of despair; and such a one was heard, as not only sounded through the woods of Downham Reach, but reached the opposite shores of Woolverstone Park.
That shriek was heard by one whose heart was too true to nature to resist the good motives which it awakened. Young Barry, as the reader knows, was journeying toward the gamekeeper’s cottage on the cliff, and had just entered the wood in front of that dwelling, as the piercing shriek struck upon his ear. He sprang over the paling in an instant, and by the broad moonlight beheld a man carrying a female towards a boat, and the other assisting to stop her cries. He leaped down the cliff, and seizing a strong break-water stake, which he tore up from the sand, rushed forward to the man who carried the female. It was a good, trusty, heart-of-oak stake which he held, and which in one moment he swung round his head, and sent its full weight upon the hamstrings of Luff. The fellow rolled upon the sand, and over and over rolled the poor girl into the very waves of the Orwell.
It was no slight work which Barry had now in hand. It was a bold deed to attack two such daring villains, both well armed, and he with nothing but a stake. But the consequences he neither foresaw nor dreaded; the cause was a good one, and he left the issue to God. As quick as thought he had already dashed one foeman to the earth; the other stood aghast, beholding Margaret fallen into the water, and his comrade rolling on the shore. He flew to help Margaret, and raising her up, determined not to relinquish her, but stood opposed to the dauntless Barry.
“Villains, release the girl!" was his exclamation.
“It is Barry’s voice!" shrieked Margaret. “Help, John, help!”
There was a strange opposition of feeling in all the parties at these words. The blood curdled in the veins of the smugglers, whilst it seemed to burst with overpowering fullness upon the forehead of the young man who now attacked them. He fought for the prize of true love—they for revenge. The moment they heard the name uttered by the girl they seemed to think no more about her; but the fallen man sprang up, and Laud let Margaret go, and both rushed, like enraged wild beasts, with full force against young Barry. He, with true heroic daring, committed himself at once to the encounter. He was a fine athletic young man, a head taller than either of the sailors, but odds were fearfully against him. Luff was a stout, stiff, sturdy seaman; and Laud young, active, cool, and desperate.
A smuggler is seldom without a weapon of offence and defence. Luff seized his pistol from his girdle, and fired at his brave antagonist; it missed its mark, and the stout oak arm was not long in thundering a blow upon his head, which again sent him sprawling upon the ground. It was Laud’s turn now to take his aim, which he did in the most cool, determined manner, with as much ease, and as steady a hand, as if he were firing at a holiday mark. It was a cruel aim, and rendered the contest still more unequal. It took effect in the young man’s left shoulder, and rendered that arm useless.
None but such a frame and such a spirit could have stood against that pistol-shot. It made him stagger for the moment; but he had presence of mind to ward off the next blow of a cutlass with his good oaken staff. And now might be seen the most desperate conflict for life or death between the rivals. Barry and Laud closed and parted, and struggled fiercely with each other, though the former had but one arm to act upon the defensive with. His right hand, however, was powerful enough to dash the sword of Laud at least ten yards into the wave; and with such dexterity did he handle his weapon, that had not Luff come again unexpectedly to the encounter, the contest must have been speedily terminated in favour of Barry: Luff recovered his feet again, and rushed at Barry with such rage, that again his other pistol missed its aim.