“Here we are, Mr Rawson; here we are, come to help you,” whispered Job. A deep groan was the response. It was soon evident that there were two people on the ground, struggling in a deadly embrace—but which was friend or foe, was the question. They had tight hold of each other’s throats, and were actually throttling each other.
“You catch hold of one, Mr Morton,” whispered Job, who had recognised Ronald. “I’ll take t’other, and then we’ll settle with the mounseer, whichever he may be.”
Ronald found by his jacket that he had got hold of Rawson, but it was not without digging his nails into the Frenchman’s wrist that he was able to make him relax his hold of Rawson’s throat. Still more difficult was it to induce the latter to take his gripe off his opponent’s neck. To bind the legs and arms of the Frenchman, and to gag his mouth, was the work of a few moments. Ronald stumbled against his lantern, at which Rawson must have struck when he entered.
“It may prove of service,” thought Ronald, as he hung it round his neck.
Rawson soon recovered. Two more seamen had come in by this time. Their first care was to barricade the door. At first they thought of leaving the Frenchman in the room, but it was agreed that, as he might make some noise, and give the alarm, it would be better to take him part of the way with them. He was speedily lowered down, much to the astonishment of those below, and to his own annoyance. Then Morton and the rest of the party followed. Who their prisoner was it was impossible to ascertain, for fear lest the moment the gag was removed he might cry out. He was a soldier, but not their friend the corporal, as he was a shorter and stouter man.
There could be little doubt that the guard was in the room below them, and when their comrade was missed, others probably would go up to look for him. No further time was to be lost. Mr Calder, therefore, ordered the men in a whisper to close up together, carrying their prisoner among them, and to move off in the direction of the harbour. As they began to advance, Morton recollected the rope which they ought to have taken with them, as should it be left behind and recognised, it might betray the friends who had supplied it to them. As the rope was long enough to allow of its being slipped round a beam, and then again to reach the ground, he was on the point of ascending once more to execute his project, hoping quickly to overtake his companions, when a noise in the room immediately above him arrested his movements. The guard was on the alert. His delay, contrary to the orders of his superior, might cause the ruin of the whole party. He let go the rope and sprang after his companions.
“It cannot much matter,” he thought; “our friends would have warned us to carry off the rope.”
The English seamen hurried on till they came to a deep hollow in the sands. Here Mr Calder ordered them to leave their prisoner.
“Remember, mounseer, if you hallo or make any row, we’ll be back and blow your brains out for you,” whispered Job Truefitt, as he placed him on the ground.
A grunt was the only answer. It was doubtful whether the prisoner understood what was said, though he might have guessed the meaning of the remark.