Captain Mugford: Our Salt and Fresh Water Tutors

by William Henry Giles Kingston

The smugglers, after vain attempts at the front door—they could have smashed in the windows, shutters, latches, glass, and all, but their small size and height from the ground made them most dangerous to enter by when there were defenders within went round to the back of the house, and presently I heard a great ripping and banging of boards there, and Mr Clare’s voice call quickly—

“If one inch of you enter there, I will fire—understand that.”

Then we heard a shot, but knew by the report that it was not Harry’s gun, and Drake called down the stairs, “Clump, who fired?”

“De smugglers, Massa; one den shoot tru de winder at Massa Clare, but tank de Lor, the scoundrel miss.”

Just then I saw—and how the blood coursed with one cold sweep from my heart and back again—amid the hot flames of the burning wreck, Captain Mugford’s figure. He sprang from the deck to the rocks and was rushing towards the house. I turned and called the good news, but found that Juno and I were alone. The others, too much excited and interested in the contest to remain longer prisoners in the attic, had got on the stairway, and when I looked down on them Walter was on the bottom step with his gun cocked.

Now many steps and the yelled-out blasphemy of the smugglers came round the house again to the front. Though, as we knew afterwards, two remained to keep Mr Clare occupied there, whilst the three others were to try the windows again.

Captain Mugford must be near. Oh! that he could get here safely. Ugly jumped by me, and, uttering a savage bark, sprang downstairs and past Walter. He had escaped from Juno’s charge. As he flew about the rooms downstairs, a whole sash and shutter in the south-east room were driven in by a blow of an immense beam, and in another second half the body of a smuggler was above the window-sill. But with a tremendous leap Ugly reached him and pinned him by the throat. They tumbled back together. Then we heard a new voice—Captain Mugford’s!

“You cowards, you hang-dogs, you scum of the sea, you dark-hearted blackguards—take that! Aye, villains!—and that!”

Two pistol shots were heard. Harry jumped to open the door for Captain Mugford. Walter stood ready beside him with the gun. I ran with Drake to the open window, to see if harm had come to our dear salt tute, and Alfred had hurried in to where Mr Clare was alone guarding the back-door and broken windows, for he had sent Clump, not knowing of our being downstairs and of the Captain’s coming, to fight where we were. Clump had a short iron bar in his hands. I saw the man whom Ugly had gripped fallen on his knees and cutting our gallant little dog from his neck with a knife. One outlaw was stretched on the ground. Another was struggling with the Captain. He was a large, powerful fellow, and seemed to be getting the better of our now much-exhausted tutor. As I looked, the prostrate man rose, and both he and the one whom poor Ugly—now dead on the grass—had attacked came to help crush the Captain. Then the front door was flung open. Walter fired, and the man who had killed our brave dog dropped the knife he held, and, clasping his left shoulder with his right hand, screamed out a terrible oath, and, yelling with pain, ran from the struggle. At the same moment—all these events, from the time Captain Mugford arrived until the door was opened to admit him, not occupying probably three minutes—the Captain fell beneath his adversary, whose fingers clutched his throat, and the infuriated outlaw seemed determined to finish him. Walter could not fire again without shooting the very one for whose safety alone he would fire. But Clump jumped out with his iron bar and struck the assailant on the head. The Captain was released just as I saw the other miscreant level a pistol at Clump. I called, “Oh, Clump, Clump, take care!” With the sound of my voice came the sharp, fatal crack of the pistol, and Clump fell back—dead!

Two minutes more and all the smugglers were in full flight. The old, grey-headed, faithful, true-hearted Clump was dead, and Juno stretched unconscious on her husband’s body. Ugly, all hacked to pieces, lay in a pool of blood, yet gasping. Captain Mugford, wounded, bruised, and exhausted, sat on the doorstep. Mr Clare was leaning over Clump with a hand on the pulseless heart. The burning wreck yet lighted the heavens, and the horrid scene at the very doorstep of our home of such a happy half-year.