He got on his feet, feeling stiff and uncomfortable, and then tried to make out where the grated window was, but the darkness was absolute, and he stretched out one foot and his hands, as he began to move cautiously along, feeling his way till he kicked against a loose stone.

This arrested him, and he tried in another direction for his foot to come in contact with what seemed to be round, and proved to be a spar lying in company with some carefully folded and rope-bound sails.

"The old rascal!" thought Archy, as he mentally pictured the stern, sad countenance of Sir Risdon.

"Why, he must have a lugger of his own, and keep his stores in here."

A little feeling about convinced him that the window of the vault could not be behind the pile of boat-gear against which he had stumbled, and he moved slowly of! Again, to stop at the end of a yard or two, feeling about with one foot.

"Why, I'm not shut up!" he cried joyously. "I'm out on the ledge. They must have laid me here to be fetched off by the boat. Suppose the tide had risen while I was asleep!"

But the joyous feeling went off as he stared about him. It had been dark enough in a dense fog, but it did not feel dark and cold now, as if there was a dense fog. Everything seemed dry, and though he listened attentively, he could not hear the washing of the waves among the rocks, nor smell the cool, moist, sea-weedy odour of the coast. Instead of that a most unmistakable smell of brandy came into his nostrils.

And yet he seemed to be standing on that ledge close down to the water, for as he stooped down now he could trace with his hand one of the huge, curled-up sh.e.l.l-fish turned to the stone in which it was embedded, while, as he felt about, there was another and another larger still.

He listened again.

No; he was not on the seash.o.r.e. He must be in the vault beneath Sir Risdon's house, and though he had not noticed it, the floor must be paved with a layer of stones similar to those found where the little kegs had been left.

He went cautiously on with outstretched hands through the intense darkness, and his feet traced the flat curls of stone again and again, but he did not find any wall, and now, as he made up his mind to go back to where he had been when he first awoke, he found that he had not the faintest idea as to which direction he ought to take.

As he grew more able to move and act, the sense of confusion which suddenly arrested him was terrible--almost maddening.

Where was he? What was here on all sides? It could not be the cellar, as he went in one direction or the other toward the walls, and he stood at last resting, in the most utter bewilderment of mind and helplessness of body possible to conceive, while a curious feeling of awe began to steal over him.

The smugglers had not dared to kill him or throw him into the sea, as he had heard of them doing on more than one occasion, but as far as he could make out they had cast him down into some terrible place to die.

The idea was terrible, and unable to contain himself he took a step or two in one direction, then in another, and stopped short, not daring to stir for fear some awful chasm such as he had seen among the rocks should be yawning at his feet, and he should fall headlong down.

He stopped to wipe the cold perspiration away that was gathering on his brow, and then, trying to keep himself cool, he stood thinking, and finally, in utter weariness, sat down.

"I wish I wasn't such a coward," said the young midshipman, half aloud.

"It's like being a child to be frightened because it's dark. What's that!"

He started up.

"_That_" was a gleam of light some distance off, shining on the rugged walls of a vast chamber or set of chambers. He could only dimly see this, for the light was but feeble, and the bearer hidden behind the rugged pillars which supported the roof; but it was evidently coming nearer, and as it approached he could see that he was in a vast cavernous, flat-ceiled place, which appeared to have been a quarry, from which ma.s.ses of stone had been hewn, the floor here and there being littered with refuse of all sorts and sizes.

As the light came on, the midshipman made out that quite a store of spars, ropes, and blocks lay at a short distance, and that more dimly seen was a large stack of tubs, from which doubtless emanated the odour of brandy.

Archy's first idea was to go and meet the bearers of the light, but on second thoughts he decided to stand upon his dignity and let them come to him, and as the thought occurred to him that the visit might be of an inimical nature, his hand stole into his breast in search of his dirk.

Vainly though: the weapon was gone.

All this time, as if the bearers were coming very leisurely, the light slowly approached, and as the midshipman more fully grasped the fact that he must be either in a stone quarry or a mine, he saw that the light was an ordinary horn lanthorn, and from the shadows it cast he could see that there were two people, one of whom was carrying something weighty on his shoulders.

This soon resolved itself into four kegs, slung two and two, the bearer panting under their weight, while his companion held the light low down, so that he could see where to plant his feet and avoid the corners of the huge square pillars which supported the roof.

Neither of the pair seemed to pay any attention to him; in fact, the midshipman was doubtful whether he was seen as he stood back waiting till they had pa.s.sed him, and then hesitated as to whether he should make for the entrance and escape.

Through the black darkness, not knowing which way he should go, perhaps to fall down some shaft such as was sure to be in a place like this?

No; he could not risk the journey without a light, and he stood waiting and trying to make out the shadowy figures, one of whom looked strangely uncouth beneath his load, while the other was quite short.

Archy had not long to wait before the pair halted by the stack of kegs, to which the four carried by the man were added, and this done they turned and came toward him.

At this moment, after excitedly watching them, the midshipman became convinced.

The bearer of the lanthorn was his young enemy--the boy.

CHAPTER TWENTY.

Raystoke looked round him for a weapon, but the only thing visible was a stone, and not feeling disposed to descend to such a barbarous means of offence or defence, he drew himself up, burning with indignation, but waiting for the others to commence speaking.

He had not long to wait.

"Hullo, sailor!" cried Ram; "like some milk?"

"You rascal!" burst out Archy, taking a step toward the lad, but feeling directly a strong hand upon his arm to hold him back.

"What's the matter?" growled the owner of the hand.

"The matter will be that you two will be hung at the yardarm some fine morning. How dare you shut me up in this hole?"

"Hung for shutting you up here?" cried the boy. "We shall have to hang him then, Jemmy, after all."

"Ay, lad," said the man. "When'll we do it; now?"

"Now!" cried the midshipman. "Do you think you are going to frighten me with such talk? Show me the way out of this place directly."

"Ram, lad," said Jemmy Dadd, with a cackling laugh; "when yer ketches a wild thing, and puts him in a cage, he begins to bang hisself agen the sides, and knocks his head agen the bars, and if he could talk he'd go on just like that 'ere. Then you keeps quiet, and don't give him nothing to eat, and after a day or two you can do what you like with him."

"Then we'd better take back the basket, Jemmy, eh?"

"Ay, lad, that's it. Leave him in the dark a bit to cool him down."

"You scoundrels!" cried the lad in frenzy. "If you do not show me the way out, I'll shout for help, and when it does come, I'll take care your punishment shall be ten times worse."

"Ah, do," said Ram, laughing. "Won't bring the roof down, will it, Jemmy?"

"Nay, not it, lad. Come on."

"Wait a bit," said Ram.--"I say, didn't tell me whether you'd like a bottle o' milk?"

Archy felt as if he would like to fly at the boy, the very mention of the milk exasperating him to such an extent. But at every movement he felt himself more tightly held, and knowing from sad experience that it was waste of energy to contend with the iron-muscled fellow who gripped his arm, he smothered his anger.

He did not speak, but as Ram held up the light, Archy's countenance told tales of the pa.s.sion struggling in his breast for exit, and the boy grinned.