Part 45 (1/2)
”Forward!” at the same moment shouted Rodney, and the signal flag flew to its place.
The s.h.i.+ps moved out under a favoring breeze, and opened full broadsides upon the Stygian vessels. Ensign Lawe, once more at the head of his gallant troopers, led across the inlet and dashed at once upon the retreating Pixies. The footmen poured out of the gates of Fort Home and marched away to join the attack.
The Governor had now reached the bank of the inlet, and as he swung his scythe merrily, and bowed to the good work, he was greeted with three times three from forts and s.h.i.+ps:
”Wille, Dido and Victory! Hurrah, hurrah, hurrah!”
Wille paused a moment and swung his hat above his head, while Dido waved her handkerchief in recognition of the Brownie cheers. Then the Governor turned, and mowed down the lawn, throwing off at each swing of the scythe a bunch of gra.s.s mingled with the ruins of Pixie tents and huts, whose inmates lay struggling beneath the wreck of their homes, or fled to the standing gra.s.s, or burrowed and hid around the roots. The Brownies followed them up, searched them out, dispersed or slew them. It was a complete destruction and rout. In a few hours the fragrant gra.s.s lay curling in the sun, and not a Pixie tent was left upon the lawn.
Spite and Heady made a strong effort to rally their soldiers, and succeeded in forming a line of battle. But the Pixies were so demoralized that the troops broke and fled before the Brownie charges.
Many found hiding places in holes and dens of the earth; some escaped in the small boats of the smugglers and pirates; numbers were taken aboard the Stygian s.h.i.+ps, and were borne down the lake, closely pursued by the Natties.
Lieutenant Heady lay dead upon the field. What had become of Spite? When we last saw him he was sitting alone upon the cliff, filled with rage and wonder at the Brownie rejoicings over the rescue of Faith and Sophia, and waiting in the moonlight for the return of the scouts whom he had sent out to get the news. Not a whisper of tidings could he hear.
Bruce had ordered the Brownie pickets to keep the matter from their foes, and no breath of the good news could be gathered from them. For good and sufficient reasons Raft the smuggler had held his knowledge secret, and had kept away from Spite's presence. His yacht, the Fringe, was now anch.o.r.ed just under the cliff, hidden from view by the overhanging gra.s.s. Raft had heard for some time the commotion on the lawn, but gave little heed to it. It drew nearer. The singing swish of the scythe against the gra.s.s, the cheers of the Brownies and Governor Wille excited his interest. He climbed up the cliff and reconnoitered.
He took in the situation at a glance, then turned his eyes toward the inlet. Thereaway the Nattie fleet was under way, and bearing down straight toward the cliff.
”It's all up with Pixiedom!” he cried, ”for one good long while at least. Good-bye to the lawn! I'm off with the Fringe to safe quarters; I wouldn't lose her to save the whole nation. Every fellow for himself, and deil take the hindmost! That's good Pixie doctrine, so here's cut and away!”
He spun out a drag-line, Pixie fas.h.i.+on, and fastening it to a rock, thereby swung himself down the cliff to the gra.s.s at the water's edge.
Thence he boarded the Fringe, set his sail, pulled up anchor, and was just about leaving the harbor, when a shower of sand and small pebbles rolled upon him. He looked up, and saw a Pixie officer lowering himself down the side of the cliff by blades of gra.s.s and ferns. The form seemed familiar; he looked more closely. Yes, it was Spite the Spy.
”Hold on,--hold!” cried Spite.
”Aye, aye!” answered Raft. ”This way now--down that tall rush--so! Now swing upon the mast. There,--you're safe. All right!” He unmoored the yacht, and pus.h.i.+ng against the cliff sent her out with one vigorous shove into clear water. The wind caught the sails, and the Fringe flew merrily over the surface of Lake Katrine. Raft now had leisure to give some attention to his chief. Spite had thrown himself upon the deck, and was fairly panting with fatigue, and livid and trembling with pa.s.sion.
Wrath, terror, disappointment, shame were in turn and in quick succession reflected from his face. The smuggler had little love for the chief, but he pitied him now, and in his rough way tried to comfort him.
”Better luck next time, Cap'n,” he said. ”We've had many a backset before, and have come out all right again. Cheer up!”
”Backset, indeed!” growled Spite. ”It's annihilation! There's not enough left of Pixiedom to make a decent funeral. But--” and he rolled out a string of oaths--”I shall have such revenge as they little dream of!
I'll tear the accursed Nurses limb from limb and fling the pieces into the Brownie camp! Say! what are you putting her head down the lake for?”
he shouted, suddenly starting to his feet.
”That's the way of safety, Sir,” answered Raft. ”We must make for the outlet or Orchard Cave at once. Look there at the Natties hard upon the wake of our fleet. We must get out of their way, Sir!”
”Curse the Natties!” answered Spite fiercely; ”and confound you for a coward! Put her toward Ellen's Isle, I say! I will land there if the whole Nattie fleet were following us. But they'll not bother us now; they have better game at present than the Fringe.”
Raft's cheeks burned at the word ”coward,” and he could hardly refrain from tossing Spite overboard. But even the worst of Pixies have some reverence for a chief, and Raft was one of the best. Besides, he really pitied Spite, and was willing to allow for his bitter disappointment. He saw that he had not yet heard of the escape of the Nurses, and resolved that he would tell him now, so that he might be persuaded to give up the trip to Ellen's Isle. It was pretty hard to get started, however, with the story. Raft hemmed, stammered, and at last began:
”Cap'n, there's no use going to the island now. All's up, there, as well--”
Spite interrupted him. ”No use? What is that to you? Do as you are bidden, and do not dare to question or comment upon my orders. Change her course at once, or--or--” he fairly screamed these words, and stopped suddenly in the midst of his threat, choked by pa.s.sion.
Raft trembled with anger. He dropped the helm, laid hold upon a marline-spike and advanced toward the chief. Then he suddenly changed his mind, and retraced his steps.
”Very good,” he answered quietly. ”You shall have your own sweet way, my dear! Ellen's Isle it is!” He pressed his tiller and s.h.i.+fted the sail; the Fringe swung around, and in a few moments was quietly riding in one of the secluded harbors with which the smuggler was familiar, at the head of the island, and not far from the cave of Tigrina and Aranea Hall.
”Wait here until I return,” said Spite leaping ash.o.r.e. ”I shall be back soon.”
There was a strange look in Raft's eye, that caught the chief's attention, for in a moment he turned back, and shaking his clenched hand at the smuggler, said: