CHAPTER THE FIFTHSt. Cuby's WellTo see another eat when oneself is hungry, or sleep when oneself is wakeful, is surely very trying to the temper, except to those happily-constituted individuals who are incapable of envy. Dick Trevanion was as generous-hearted a boy as you could wish; but as the time went by, unmarked by anything but the slow rise of the boat and the quick dwindling of the candle in the lantern, he looked at Sam's open mouth with impatience, listened to his untuneful solo with dislike, and felt a deplorable desire to kick him. He had no watch, and bethought himself that it might be as well, when he got home, to test the duration of a candle, so that if he were ever in such a predicament again he might at least have a clock of King Alfred's sort. Every now and then he snuffed the coarse wick, and when the tallow had sunk almost to the socket, he substituted another candle-end that he happened to have in his pocket. Beyond this he had nothing to employ him.But by-and-by, as the roof of the vault came nearer to him with the gradual lifting of the boat, an idea struck him. Why not use the boat as a raised platform for the ladder, and so contrive to examine an additional ten or twelve feet of the walls? The ladder!—it was floating on the surface of the water, heaving simultaneously with the boat as the tide gently rippled in."Wake up, Sam!" he called.Sam snored on."Wake up!" cried Dick again, leaning over and pinching the sleeper's nose.Sam struck out with his fist, as any honest English boy would have done, without opening his eyes. But at a third call he roused himself, sat up, and rubbing those heavy organs vigorously, sighed like a furnace, and then said sleepily:"Why, where be I?""In dreamland, I should think," replied Dick, laughing. "Wake up! I want you to hold the ladder against the wall while I climb again.""In twelve feet o' water! Not me; I bean't growed enough for that. 'Tis work for a giant.""Not on the ground, of course; in the boat, I mean."Sam looked dubious."Won't it wamble? And if you tumble you'll sink us.""Well, we can try. Take hold of the end of the ladder floating by you, and I'll paddle close to the wall."On lifting the ladder, they found that its top came within a few feet of the roof. But when Dick began to climb, he descended in a hurry, for the ladder being of necessity set up at an angle, every upward step drove the boat from the wall towards the middle of the cave."Be-jowned if we can do it!" cried Sam. "That there openin' will be the death o' me."Dick was at a loss. There was no way of keeping the boat in a fixed position. Even if he dropped the anchor and it held in the sandy bottom, the boat would still have a range of movement that altogether prohibited the success of his plan. He looked gloomily at Sam; it was vexatious to be baulked when achievement was so near. Sam, with his hands on the sides of the ladder, was gazing up its length, his eyes gradually converging as they travelled higher, until they seemed almost to be looking at each other. All at once they reverted to their natural position, and he cried:"I've got a noble thought, I do b'lieve.""What's that?""Why, 'tis as easy as anything. See that place, Maister Dick, up aloft there, where the wall goes in summat?""Well, what then?""I'll show 'ee. You'd never ha' thought of it, 'cos you was lookin' down instead o' lookin' up."He drew down the ladder until its whole length lay along one side of the boat."Look 'ee here," he said. "We'll take the anchor, and fix it upright in middle of the ladder, lash it to the top rung, do 'ee see?" He suited the action to the word. "There! Now 'tis a hook, or a clutch, or whatever name you like to gie un. We'll lift un again till it hooks on that ledge; then it will hang free, and you can climb as easy as climbing trees.""A capital notion, Sam," cried Dick."I said it was, purticler for a poor mazy stunpoll of a feller like me.""You're a genius if it works out. The thing is to try it."Raising the ladder to its former position, they moved it along the face of the wall until one fluke of the anchor held firmly to the ledge of rock, as they proved by exerting a considerable downward strain."This is splendid," said Dick. "Now to go up.""Ah, don't 'ee take the lantern with 'ee this time. I don't want no more cracks on the nob, and if it fell again, 't 'ud get soused in the water, and then we'd be in darkness.""You're right. I'll take the candle out and stick it in my hat as the miners do. I must have a light, of course.""I reckon you must, if you be goin' to find that openin'," said Sam, sceptical to the last.Dick stuck the lighted candle into the band of his hat, stepped out of the boat, and began to climb, Sam watching his progress and offering bits of cautionary counsel. In a few seconds, when Dick's head projected above the anchor, he saw that the ledge of rock, extending for some distance on both sides, was the floor of a roughly rectangular fissure, which penetrated the earth much as the tunnel below penetrated the cliff. It ran upwards. The smoky light from the candle did not reach far, but Dick, peering over the ledge, was unable to see any solid background to the fissure."I've found the opening!" he said."What do 'ee say?" called Sam. "Yer voice sounds all a mumble and a rumble."Clinging firmly to the ledge with both hands, Dick lowered his head and repeated the words."Now yer satisfied, then," said Sam. "Better come down afore the candle goes out.""No. I'm going on.""But chok' it all, you won't leave me all alone! I'm not afeard, not I; but if there be three or four seals a-comin' home by-and-by, I can't fight 'em all.""You must come up too when I've looked a little farther.""But you can't climb on to the ledge without summat to hold to. Maister Dick, think of yer feyther and mother, and what I'm to say if 'ee falls and breaks yer neck, and I take 'ee home a gashly corp.""Don't talk rubbish. I shan't fall if you don't worry me. I'm not going to sit for hours longer in the boat till the tide goes down, so hold your tongue till I am safe aloft."Leaning well forward, he carefully lifted his foot to the next rung, then to the next, watching the anchor to see that it was not displaced by his movements. Then he got one knee on the rocky shelf, stretched his arms in front of him, and with a sudden movement heaved his body on to the ledge and fell flat, his feet projecting into space. He crawled along on hands and knees until his boots disappeared from Sam's view, and stood up within the dark entrance of the fissure."I'm up, Sam," he called, his voice reverberating hollowly in the vault."Then I be comin' too," cried the boy."Not yet. You must wait a little until I see where the opening leads to. I'll come back for you presently."He turned his face to the opening and went in. Dim as the light was, he recognised almost at once that he was at the end of a mine adit. Within a few paces the fissure narrowed to a dwarf tunnel, through which a tiny stream trickled, disappearing, not over the ledge into the cave, but into a fissure in the wall of rock. There was space for only two persons to pass abreast, and as Dick proceeded, he had to bend his head to avoid striking the roof. He was about to explore further, when he remembered that the candle in his hat could not last more than a few minutes, and to advance in the dark would be foolhardy. He had no more candles, and supposed that Sam had none, so that it seemed as if he must postpone further exploration. But returning to the ledge, he saw a light in the cave."You've got some more candle-ends, then?" he cried."One, that I've just fished up out of my pocket along with a bit of string, some bait, a bit o' pudden that I'd forgot—can't eat it now, hungry as I be, 'cos 'tis all tallowed—and a green penny.""I want the candle, Sam; mine's going out. Can you pitch it up?""I can, but it 'ud only fall back into the water and go to the bottom.""Wait. I've a bit of string in my pocket. I'll let it down; tie the candle on.""I must do it, I suppose. Iss, you shall have it, and I'll be left in the dark, but I'm not afeard—not very."In a minute Dick had the fresh candle in his hat-band, and once more entered the tunnel.It was very damp, and Dick guessed from the trickling stream at his feet that the adit had been designed, when the mine was in operation, to drain the upper workings. How long ago this was he had no idea. It must have been long before old Reuben's time, or the man would have had more definite knowledge than he actually possessed, and the existence of the opening would have been known as a fact instead of being a mere fragment of village tradition.Dick went on. In some parts the tunnel was almost impassable with earth and rocks that had fallen in. Step as cautiously as he might, every now and then the rattle of loose earth displaced by his movements caused a cold shiver to run down his back. What if there should be a fall behind him which would cut off his retreat to the cave? The tunnel ought to lead to an opening to the air above, but the way might be blocked, and the possibility of being entombed was daunting. But having come so far Dick was unwilling to give in. The peril might be purely imaginary. Plucking up his courage, he hastened his steps, and after a few minutes came to an enlargement of the tunnel. To his left a second gallery ran downward at a sharp angle with that in which he was; no doubt this also led to some point of the shore. Still advancing, he saw, with some surprise, that the passage was strutted in places, and much freer from obstructions than the portion he had already traversed. About a hundred yards beyond the transverse gallery, however, his progress was suddenly checked: the whole width of the tunnel was filled with a mass of rocks, stones, and loose earth. A few seconds' examination sufficed to show the impossibility of proceeding farther in this direction; accordingly he retraced his steps and, a few yards away, came to another passage, to find, however, after twenty or thirty paces, that he was again brought to a stop.This time the obstruction was of a different nature. It was a rough door made of stout wooden beams, closed with a heavy bar resting in sockets. He lifted the bar and pulled the creaking door, which came towards him for an inch or two, and then stuck. To open it fully he had to remove from the floor a number of planks and beams, which appeared to be the parts of a broken windlass. Having got the door open and passed through, he found himself in a square chamber that smelt very damp and close, though, on looking upwards, he could see no roof. He concluded that he was at the bottom of a deep shaft. But it had not the look of a mine shaft, which, so far as Dick's experience went, was always timbered. The walls here were cased with stone, moss-grown and damp.Near the doorway he caught sight of a staple of rusty iron let into the wall; a little above this, a second of the same kind; and at the same interval above the second, a third. Looking up the wall, he perceived that similar staples projected from the stonework as far up as the flickering light of his candle revealed. Their shape, and the intervals between them, indicated that they were steps by which the wall could be climbed. And then it flashed upon him suddenly that he was in an ancient well, known as St. Cuby's Well, though who St. Cuby was nobody knew except, perhaps, Mr. Carlyon, deeply learned in the antiquities of his county. The upper end of the well-shaft opened on the cliff, about a quarter-mile from the cottage of old Joe Penwarden, the exciseman. It was covered by the ivy-grown ruins of a small oratory, whither in times long past the faithful had come to have their children baptised in the water of the holy well, to drink of it for the cure of their diseases, and to offer up vows and repeat prayers before the sacred cross.Strange as it may seem, Dick's first impulse, when the identity of his whereabouts flashed upon him, was to dash through the doorway and scamper with all imaginable speed back to the cave. He was not more superstitious than other boys of his age; but in those days, before old beliefs and fancies had undergone the cold douche of science, people were credulous of omens and spells, blessings and curses, beneficent influences and the evil eye. From St. Cuby's Well the aroma of sanctity had long since departed; according to village tradition, a murder of peculiar horror had once been committed there; and now it was shunned as a plague spot. No pilgrims came to kneel beneath the sacred roof; no children ever played hide and seek among its picturesque ruins; everybody, from the Squire downwards, avoided it, and at night not a man would have ventured within a hundred yards of its unhallowed precincts. Stories were rife of apparitions seen there; it was these ghosts of which Ike Pendry had spoken to John Trevanion on the night when he had overtaken the trudging pedestrian on the high road.Dick, of course, had no belief in ghosts, and regarded the stories with as much intellectual contempt as his father gave to the witch's couplet. But his imagination was subject to impressions which his reason scorned; and in the gloom of the well-shaft, which the yellow rays of his candle rendered more awful than complete darkness could have been, these vague conceptions of murder, sacrilege, and midnight hauntings possessed his mind so completely as at first to overwhelm his common-sense. But he resolutely crushed down these figments of his imagination, told himself that such evil traditions might probably be traced to no more real origin than the failure of the spring of water, and decided to go back for his companion and put an end to their captivity by climbing up the iron steps to the surface of the cliff."Oh, I am glad to see 'ee," cried Sam, as his young master's head appeared at the brink of the ledge. "I bean't afeard, not I, but 'twas 'nation dark, and I felt a queer wamblin' in the inside o' me, 'cos I'm tarrible hungry, I reckon.""Well, come along. I've found the way out. The opening leads to St. Cuby's Well, and we can climb to the top in no time.""St. Cuby's Well! Dash my bones if I go within a mile o't. Dead men's bones, and sperits o' darkness—no, never will I do it.""Stuff and nonsense!" cried Dick, as stoutly as if he had never felt the least tremor on his own account. "I've seen no bones, and the spirits haven't laid a hand on me. Those silly tales only frighten children.""And females. Ah, 'tis a pity the mistress won't let me take eggs and things to the Dower House. What I could tell to that nice young female wi' the hole in her rosy cheeks! How they'd go yaller and white when she heerd my tale of blood, and ghosteses in night-gowns, and all the other things o' darkness! Ah, 'twas to be, I s'pose: she'll hear it from some one else, and I shan't get the credit of it.""No; she'll hear that you were too much of a baby to face 'em, and she'll despise you, instead of thinking well of you as she does now.""Don't say it, Maister Dick," cried the boy. "Scrounch me if I lose my fame in that miserable way. I'll come, if you'll stand by me, and hold my hand if we hears a noise, and use your finest language to the sperits if they meddle wi' us. I've heerd tell that the Lord's prayer said back'ards will tarrify 'em out of their wits, but I reckon yer head's full of ancient heathen words that go straightfor'ard, and won't put 'ee to such a tarrible tax as turnin' religion topsy-turvy."This was said as Sam climbed with deliberate care up the ladder. He gained the ledge more easily than Dick had done, having the help of Dick's hand."Can we get there afore candle's out?" he said anxiously, when they stood side by side."If we make haste," replied Dick, taking off his hat and looking at the inch-and-a-half of candle left, and the mass of tallow that lay on the brim like a small lake of lava. "We can fetch the boat at low-tide to-morrow."They hurried on, and, Dick knowing the way, reached the shaft in much quicker time than when he had come alone. Sam got behind him at the doorway, peering under his armpits with wide eyes, and taking much comfort when he saw nothing but mossy walls."I'm downright shamed o' folks that believe in such gammut," he said, valiantly following Dick into the chamber."Well, now we'll climb up. It must be after sunset, or we should see a glimmer of light at the top. I'll go first.""No, I'd better go first," said Sam hastily, looking round with something of his former air of timorous expectation. "You see, if you go first, the brim of yer hat will shet out all the light, and I'll miss my footing and be nawthin' but scattered members. But if I go first, do 'ee see, and you come close behind me—but not close enough to set my stockings afire—the light will be ekal betwixt us two. Do 'ee see my manin', Maister Dick?""Quite plain. I don't mind. We'll try one or two of the staples first, to make sure they are firm in the stonework, and then you can mount, and as your hind foot leaves one step, my fore hand will clutch it."The staples stood the test of pulling, first by Dick, then by Sam, who also tried them, on the plea that he had more muscle. Then Sam began to climb, followed closely by Dick. After an ascent of perhaps a hundred feet, the former declared that he felt a whiff of fresh air, and immediately afterwards the candle flame was blown out. Looking up past Sam's fore-shortened body, Dick saw one star in the clear dark vault of the sky, and in a few seconds they were both standing on the ground beside the well-head, cooled by the breeze that blew through the ruined walls of the chapel from the sea. The roof had gone long ago; grass grew on the floor, and ivy twined itself in and out of the mullioned windows."There!" said Dick. "We are safe, you see. All that talk of ghosts is pure balderdash."The darkness and the weird associations of the spot combined to make him set his tone of voice to a murmur. At that moment there fell upon the ears of the boys, as they stood side by side to recover breath after their climb, a low sound from somewhere beyond the walls, but not far away. It was like that of a person speaking in hollow, mournful accents. Sam caught Dick by the arm; Dick heard his teeth chatter."'Tis he!" whispered the trembling boy. "'Tis the ghost! Oh! let me hide myself afore he see I."Dick did not reply. He was, it must be confessed, sufficiently startled. The sound ceased; but in a moment or two it recommenced, now being somewhat louder. Dick was in two minds, now thinking that he would run, now wondering whether he had not better stay. The slow droning still approached, and at last he caught articulate words:"A-deary me! A-deary me! The world's a-cold, a bitter place for——"The next words were indistinguishable."Hark to him!" whispered Sam. "He be in mortal pain, and I do feel that leery all down the small o' my back."Dick sniffed, and sniffed again. Then he said:"Ghosts don't smoke, Sam—at any rate, not tobacco. I'm going to see.""How do 'ee know?" whispered Sam, still holding him by the arm. "I won't be so much afeard of him if he do be smoking bacca, but it may be summat else. It do smell rayther strong for a livin' man."He followed Dick as he groped his way over fragments of masonry and through close-woven masses of ivy and weeds, until they came into the open. The night was very dark. The first thing they saw, at a distance of about twelve yards, was a small red glow, which brightened and faded at intervals. Drawing nearer to it cautiously, they perceived at the moments of greatest brightness that it lit up for an instant a grizzled chin, a sunken mouth, a quite ordinary nose, a ruddy face with a black patch over one eye, and a black hat over all."'Tis old Joe Penwarden," said Dick, in a tone that expressed surprise, relief, and a shame-faced consciousness."So 'tis, I do believe," cried Sam. "Be-jowned if 'a didn't ought to be locked up for playing such gashly tricks on poor souls.""Avast there! Stand, in the King's name!" cried the old man, hearing their voices."So we will, so we will," said Sam. "Don't 'ee be afeard, maister; we bean't ghosteses, but just common mortals like yerself.""Oh! 'tis you, Maister Dick," said Penwarden, as the boys came up to him. "'Pon my life, I was skeered for about a second and a half, never expectin' to see mortal men in this old haunt. What be 'ee doin' at this time o' night, in such a place, too?""What time is it, Joe?" asked Dick."Time all young things like lambs and birds and boys were abed and asleep. 'Tis past ten.""Lawk-a-massy, if I didn't think it by the terrible emptiness in my inside," cried Sam, feelingly. "Come home-along, Maister Dick; I be mortal afeard as Feyther will send me to bed wi'out any supper.""Wait a bit," replied Dick. "Where do you think we've been, Joe?""Not night-fishing, for ye've got no tackle. Nor rabbitin', for ye've got no snares. Ah, well! Ye med as well tell me first as last, for I be no good at guessin'.""We've come up St. Cuby's Well.""Come up, you say; but you must go down afore ye come up. I wouldn't like to say I don't believe 'ee.""That would be very unfriendly. The truth is, Joe, we were down in the cave and got shut in by the tide, and to pass the time away we climbed up over a ledge and found ourselves in an old adit, and went along it till we came to the well-shaft. There are iron steps in the wall, and up we came.""Well, if that bean't the queerest thing I've heerd for many a day. Who would ever ha' thowt it!""Didn't you know there were steps down the well side?"Never heerd tell o' sech a thing.""But haven't you seen it for yourself? I was thinking that, perhaps, you being here now, you knew all about it, and the idea did cross me that you might be the ghost people talk about, though to be sure you don't look like one.""Bless 'ee, I've never set foot inside they walls. Sometimes of a night I come ramblin' round to smoke a peaceful pipe and meditate on the days o' my youth afore I turn in, but as for goin' inside—no, I've never thowt o't.""Was 'ee afeard you med see the ghost, maister?" asked Sam, rejoicing to think that he had a fellow in timorousness."Well, no. A ghost is a sperit, they say, and I reckon I've got enough muscle in my aged arm to fend off a thing as has got no body.""Still, you was talkin' to yerself as if ye was in great pain and sorrer. 'A-deary me,' 'ee said; I heard 'ee twice; and then 'the world's a-cold,'—and I s'pose 'ee felt the need o' takin' a comfortin' pull at yer pipe, for I heerd no more.""It do show how young small chickerels like 'ee may be mistaken. Whenever I talk like that I be feelin' warmish and contented; remember that, young Sam, and don't traipse about spreadin' false reports about me. Moreover, don't 'ee tell nothing of yer climbing up the well, for 'a don't want the village rampin' round, spoilin' my peacefulness. St. Cuby's ghost hev his uses, and long may he walk.""Very well, Joe," said Dick, "we'll say nothing about it. There have been no runs yet, I suppose?""No; 'tis early days for that. 'Tis true as Mr. Mildmay was called off Morvah way to-day. Maybe they'll try a run there to-night. But it won't be long afore we have trouble here, I reckon, for the pilchurs are late this year, and when they're late, smugglin' is early, 'cos the men get tired o' doin' nothing.""Well, we had better be going. I usually tell Mother when I expect to be late, fishing or what not, and she'll wonder what has become of me. Are you coming our way, Joe?""Not yet, sir. I've a bit more meditation to get through first.""What do you meditate about?" asked Dick."About my days o' youth, when I was a nimble young feller and served the King afloat. Ah! they were days, they were. Lord Admiral Nelson be a fine little chap, but nothing to the admiral I served with.""Who was that?""Lord Admiral Rodney. Never shall I forget the time he spoke to me: yes, lord as he was, he did so. It do warm me of a cold night to think of it. Not every simple mariner could say he'd been spoke to ashore by sech a high person as a admiral.""What did the lord high admiral say to 'ee?" asked Sam, much impressed."Well, 'twas on Plymouth Hoe, and the admiral was walking with two handsome females, showing 'em Drake's Island; Drake was another mariner, you must know, as lived about a thousand year ago, seemingly. Well, I turned round to look at the great man, and that moment he changed his course, put up his helm, ye may say, and ran across my bows. 'Get out o' the way, you cross-eyed son of a sea-cook!' says he to me. Ah! never shall I forget it, nor the tinkly laugh o' they fine females. 'Twas a great honour to be spoke to special by Lord Admiral Rodney, a fine feller of a man.""I don't wonder it keeps you warm," said Dick, laughing. "Good-night, Joe.""Good-night to you, sir. And young Sam, mind 'ee o' what I said.""Make yourself easy, maister," returned Sam. "Oh, dear, what a thing it 'ud be to tell the maidy at the Dower House if on'y Squire warn't so cruel!""What are you mumblin' about?""Nawthin', Maister Penwarden. I were on'y thinkin' to myself what a lot o' folk 'ud be mazed if they knowed what sorrerful things ye do say when yer happy."CHAPTER THE SIXTHPenwarden does his DutyLate as it was, neither Dick nor Sam was fated to get any sleep for hours. They walked rapidly without speaking across the cliff towards the Towers, being in fact so tired and hungry that the thoughts of both were fixed on supper and bed. There was no path on this part of the cliff, except a faint track which daylight would have revealed, where the grass had been slightly worn by Joe Penwarden in his marchings to and fro. Ordinary pedestrians always avoided the windings of the shore, taking the high road farther inland.The boys had come within a hundred yards of Penwarden's cottage, when Sam all at once took Dick by the sleeve, saying:"Look, Maister Dick, there be some one at old Joe's door."It was too dark to see clearly, but Dick could just distinguish, now that it was pointed out to him, a dark form close against the whitewashed cottage on the side facing the sea."It's very odd at this time of night," he said. "We had better go and tell the man, whoever he is, where he can find Joe."They hurried on, but had not gone more than half-way to the cottage when the figure moved from the door, and walked quickly in the direction of the Towers. There was a footpath at the back of the garden, over which the villagers had an immemorial right of way, though it was really the Squire's private property.Dick was on the point of calling out when Sam checked him."That be Jake Tonkin," he said, quietly: "I know un by his bow legs. What med he want wi' old Joe, now?"Jake was the son of Isaac Tonkin, the expertest fisher, the boldest seaman, and the most cunning and resourceful smuggler in the village. Isaac was a rough, quick-tempered fellow, violent when roused, but honest according to his lights; and Dick had a certain admiration for him, as every boy must have for a strong man who excels in bold and daring deeds. Once or twice he had gone fishing in Tonkin's smack, and had learnt a good deal from the man's blunt speech and craftsmanlike actions.It was perfectly well known in the neighbourhood that Tonkin was the ringleader of the smugglers, but owing to his wariness and craft, and to the supineness of the revenue officer who had preceded Mr. Mildmay, nothing had ever been openly proved against him, and he had never been caught in the act. In the previous winter he had narrowly escaped a conflict with Mr. Mildmay, then in his first year of duty at this part of the coast; and it was common talk in the village that he resented the intrusion, as he regarded it, of so zealous an officer, and had promised to give the revenue men a very hot time if they interfered with him. It was he whose presence John Trevanion had remarked as he passed the open door of the tap-room in Doubledick's inn.Dick was as much surprised as Sam to find that Penwarden's visitor was Tonkin's son. There was naturally no love lost between the exciseman and the free-traders, who had, however, looked upon him with a sort of contemptuous tolerance until Mr. Mildmay came. The old man had been harmless enough in the days of Mr. Curgenven; not that he was remiss in his duty, but that his efforts had been rendered nugatory by his superior's apathy. The advent of Mr. Mildmay acted as a stimulus; Penwarden was in truth fearful of being thought too old for his work, and seemed to set himself deliberately to prove the contrary to the officer. More than once in the previous winter he had prevented a run by his timely warnings; and though the checks were only temporary, the smugglers were annoyed with him for the difficulties he threw in their way. It was therefore strange that young Tonkin should have gone to visit, so late at night, a man from whom the smugglers in general held severely aloof. Suddenly Dick remembered what Penwarden had said about Mr. Mildmay having been summoned to Morvah, twenty-five miles or more down the coast. It was a favourite device of the smugglers, by aid of confederates, to decoy the officers to distant parts when they were intending to make a run, and Dick could not help wondering whether they were putting it in practice on the present occasion. But it did not explain Jake Tonkin's visit, and Dick was now sufficiently interested to think no more of his fatigue and hunger in his desire to ascertain what was afoot. He knew that it was no business of his; the Squire had carefully abstained from taking sides in the perennial quarrel between the smugglers and the revenue men, and had indeed resigned his magistracy, partly because of his reduced circumstances, but quite as much in order to avoid any official action as a county justice. Dick did not intend to break this neutrality; he was simply curious and athirst for excitement.But he reflected that he could hardly satisfy his curiosity without spying on Jake Tonkin, and this was out of the question. He would have ruefully done nothing more had he not seen that the lad, instead of keeping to the path that ran directly to the village, struck off to the left along a track that led nowhere but to the Dower House. This raised his curiosity to a still higher pitch. What had Tonkin to do with John Trevanion? Knowing that his father and John were on bad terms, and having seen many little indications that the latter was bent on annoying his cousin, it was natural that he should wonder whether the interests of the Squire were in any way affected by the apparent connection between John and the smugglers. After a little hesitation, he sent Sam into the Towers, to reassure his parents and then go to bed, and went on himself after the waddling figure of Jake Tonkin, now almost out of sight.Walking quickly, he was in time to see Jake enter an outhouse at the rear of the mansion. The door closed behind him, and Dick, taking a look round, and seeing no one, ran swiftly to the building and peeped through the window. The room was lighted by a single candle, whose rays fell on the forms of a dozen men seated on chairs, stools, pails, and the table. All had their faces blackened, and he failed to discover among them the large and massive form, almost impossible to disguise, of Jake's father."He be fast asleep," he heard Jake say, evidently in answer to a question. "I knocked once, a little un; then twice, rayther louder; then I tried the door: 'twas locked. I didn't hear un snore, but maybe he sleeps quiet.""Hee! hee! 'a will sleep quieter in the grave," said a voice, which Dick had no difficulty in recognising as that of Doubledick, the innkeeper, whose conversation was always partial to death and the churchyard and similar cheerful subjects."Mildmay would fly in a passion if he knew old Joe were asleep," said a man whose voice Dick could not identify."Ay, and so would riding-officer," added a third. He referred to the official so denominated, whose duty it was to work on shore hand in hand with Mr. Mildmay on the sea, and who was in effect in charge of the coast for ten or fifteen miles, acting under the Custom House officer at St. Ives."Oh, 't'ud only be a little small passion," said Doubledick, "'cos the summer bean't over, and not a man of 'em will look for us to begin afore pilchur fishin' be past.""Body o' me, hain't we 'ticed Mildmay away to stop a run?""Nay, sonny, 'twas tidings of a French privateer that baited him. 'Tis a proper dark night, and if the wind holds, Zacky will be here a little arter midnight. And the manin' o' that is twenty pound in our pockets, a noble fust lesson to say 'magnify' arter."Dick sighed inwardly; what a boon twenty pounds would be to his father's impoverished treasury! Like all the gentlemen of the county, the Squire was willing to purchase smuggled goods; it seemed to Dick that there was not a great distinction between the purchaser and the smuggler; and yet he knew that his father would be horrified at the idea of enriching himself in that way. From what he had overheard it was clear that a run, the first of the season, was to be attempted that night, and since this did not concern the Squire, he was about to return home, when he heard the click of a lock, followed by footsteps from the house, and slipped round the angle of the building just in time to escape the eyes of John Trevanion.The owner of the Dower House joined the smugglers, and Dick heard his loud and hearty greeting."Well, my friends, is all clear? No scent for the hounds, eh?""Not so much as would cover a penny-piece," cried Doubledick. "Hee! hee! Old Joe's abed.""I'm glad of it. Mind you, you must not bring the tubs here if there's any interruption. It would never do for the county to know that I'm a freighter.""Trust we for that, yer honour; we know you must keep up yer high place, and 'tis generous of 'ee to lend us yer cellars.""Well, Doubledick, here's the key. I shall be abed, of course; I know nothing about your doings, and I can trust you to work quietly and not wake the servants.""Iss, fay, yer honour," said a man: "ye can trust Billy Doubledick, to be sure. He be a very clever feller: I say it to his face.""Good night, then. I wish you well."Dick heard his cousin return to the house and lock the door. So John Trevanion was a freighter: one who bought contraband goods in a foreign port, paid the expenses of shipment and carrying, and received the profits. This was food for reflection. A word to Mr. Mildmay or Mr. Polwhele, the riding-officer, would lead to John Trevanion's arrest. The fate of smugglers caught in the act was five years' service in a man-of-war, or a long term of imprisonment; aiders and abettors also were subject to heavy penalties; and Dick would have liked to rid the neighbourhood of the man who had caused his father such distress. But he could not play the shabby part of informer, and for the first time in his life he wished heartily that the smugglers might be caught, and their connection with Trevanion discovered; hitherto his sympathies had been entirely on their side.Since there was nothing to be gained by remaining longer at the outhouse, he went quietly away and walked back towards the Towers. But he was so much interested in his strange discovery that he felt it would be impossible to sleep until he knew whether the run proved successful. On reaching home, therefore, he went first to his mother's room to bid her good-night, then to the dining-room to get some supper, and shortly after eleven o'clock stole out again. He had never seen a smuggling run, and the likelihood that this one would be entirely undisturbed promised a peaceful view, without any risk of running into danger, of which he knew that his parents would disapprove.He had not learnt where the run was to be, but guessed, if the tubs were to be carried to the cellars of the Dower House, that the head of Trevanion Bay would be the chosen spot. It was the most convenient place near to the Dower House, except the little harbour itself, which was not likely to be selected. He made his way, therefore, along the narrow headland known as the Beal, which formed the southern boundary of the bay. Near the end of the headland, overlooking the narrow passage between it and the reef, by which vessels could enter the harbour at low tide, was the favourite playground of his early boyhood. It was a hollow in the cliff, screened from observation seaward by a huge boulder somewhat insecurely poised. Only a few years had passed since Sam and he used to play there at fighting the French. There they had their toy citadel, from which they bombarded Boney's squadrons attempting an invasion. From it, too, they could see on to the decks of vessels passing in and out of the harbour at low tide, and hugging the cliff to avoid the reef. They played also at smuggling, and it is noteworthy that they were always the successful smugglers, and never the baulked and discomfited preventive men. It was a lonely spot, and they had it quite to themselves except for the gulls.When, as they grew older, they no longer took the same childish delight in playing French and English, they turned the place into a storehouse for fishing gear. In a remote corner of the nook, they scooped out the earth to form a deep recess, lined this with wood, and kept there a reserve supply of hooks, tackle, rope, a spare anchor and sculls, two fowling-pieces, and other articles, by this means often saving themselves a journey back to the Towers. Lonely as the spot was, they often quaked with apprehension lest their secret should be discovered, especially during the pilchard season. At that time the huer, whose duty it was to keep watch, and indicate by flourishing a bush, for the benefit of the fishers below, the direction in which the shoals of fish were swimming, was accustomed to take his stand on the headland. But he naturally chose the highest point, and had no reason to seek the lower level of the cave, where he could neither see nor be seen so well. The boys were always careful to avoid the neighbourhood of their storehouse when the huer was about, and there being nothing to draw any one else to the spot, the secret had remained undiscovered.It was towards this place that Dick proceeded on leaving the Towers. But when he arrived there, he found at once that if the smugglers' cargo was to be run in the bay it would be impossible to see anything of it. The night was particularly dark; only such moonless nights were chosen by the smugglers for their operations; and even the grey cliffs were almost invisible from where he stood. He determined, therefore, to return along the headland, and make his way down the face of the cliff by the path whereby he had ascended with Sam on the night of their bass fishing. There were recesses at the foot, in one of which he could easily conceal himself and watch all that went on. And as there was no time to lose, if he was to be in hiding before the smugglers arrived, he walked rapidly, and climbed down the steep path at a pace that would have been dangerous to any one who was not well acquainted with it.He was unaware that a figure was following him. There was no sound of footsteps to attract his attention: he did not look back, and if he had done so he could hardly have seen the form that steadily kept pace with him at the distance of sixty or seventy yards. The second figure descended the path with the same surefooted ease, paused at the foot till Dick was out of sight, and then stole after him and ensconced himself in a hollow of the cliff only about three yards from that in which Dick had stationed himself. These hiding-places were some twenty yards from the bottom of the path.Neither of the two silent watchers suspected that, on the cliff above them, a third figure was approaching the path by which they had descended, but from the opposite direction. Old Penwarden, so far from being snugly asleep, as Jake Tonkin rashly concluded, had never been more wide-awake in his life. The summoning of Mr. Mildmay to a distance, the lateness of the pilchard season, and the darkness of the night, combined to make him suspicious, and he had resolved to patrol the cliff from St. Cuby's Well to the Beal, to satisfy himself that the smugglers were not already at their tricks. Having smoked through his pipe at the Well, he returned to his cottage, took the telescope, the brace of pistols, the ammunition, the cutlass, and the blue light for giving an alarm which were his regular equipment, and began to march slowly and quietly up and down.About ten minutes after the lads had taken up their positions, they heard a stone come rattling down the path twenty yards to the left. A few seconds after, they were just able to discern a dark figure emerge on to the beach. This was followed by another, and a third, and soon the whole beach was alive with dusky shapes. The tide was ebbing, but a stiff breeze sent long rollers dashing over the sand, their roar and rustle smothering the low voices of the men as they talked fitfully together.The watchers saw one of the men drive an iron post firmly into the sand and attach to it the end of a rope. The other end was fastened to a similar post in the earth at the top of the cliff. By this means a rail was formed, to give assistance to the carriers as they climbed up with their burdens.A little later there came from seaward a faint creak, scarcely distinguishable among the other sounds. The watchers pricked up their ears. Even at low tide there was enough water beneath the cliffs to enable a vessel to run in very close, and the hidden spectators guessed that a lugger was drawing in: at present they could not see it. The shore men were all low down on the beach. In a few minutes the men could be heard splashing in the water as they waded out to the vessel. Then the lugger itself appeared, a dark shape on the surface.Soon the men could be seen returning in a long line, each one apparently twice as big as before. Each bore two tubs, one in front, one behind, slung over his shoulders by ropes which had been fitted before they left the lugger.Several of the men had deposited their burdens on the beach, and were going back for more, when there was a noise of scrambling on the path. Work ceased instantly. A figure ran a few yards towards the sea, and spoke to a large man who appeared to be directing the operations. His words were just audible to the watchers."Old Joe be comin' along cliff-top, Feyther.""But they told me you said 'a was asleep.""So 'a was, but 'a must ha' waked up. He be comin', sure enough.""You must be a cussed stunpoll, then, to come slitherin' down cliff like that, makin' a rattle to wake the dead. Well, no matter. We can deal wi' old Joe, if so be as he's alone.""Iss, he be alone. I pulled up the post and brought the rope down-along.""You've some sense in yer skull, then. Now you, Pendred, and you, Simon Mail, go up cliff and keep a watch. Stand yerselves in that narrow part three-quarters of the way up, and if the old meddler comes, seize un, and choke un, but don't do un a hurt unless he shows fight. We don't want no crowner's quest."The two men selected to waylay the exciseman set off to climb the cliff, and the work of running the cargo was resumed.Dick was in a quandary. He had no interest in doing preventive work, and there were many reasons why he should refrain from interfering. But old Penwarden was a friend of his, and a mettlesome old fellow, who would certainly not allow himself to be seized without a struggle. Moreover, being armed, as he doubtless was, he would have a temporary advantage over the smugglers, who, expecting no opposition, would probably have no weapons with them but their knives. But it might well be that in the struggle the smugglers, driven to desperation, would make short work of rushing upon him and flinging him over the cliff; or if the struggle were prolonged, they could summon help from below, overpower him, and truss him up. In either case the old man would be in considerable danger, for the smugglers, when their passions were aroused, would not be over-scrupulous.These considerations flashed through Dick's mind in a second. He could not let Penwarden run into danger unwarned; yet how was the warning to be given? There was but one way. A few yards to the right of the spot where he stood it was possible to scale the cliff. The ascent was much longer and more arduous than the regular path, and there was the risk that he would not be in time. Unless he gained the cliff-top before Penwarden had passed, he would be too late. There was not a moment to spare.Dropping down on hands and knees behind a boulder that intercepted the view seaward, he crawled as fast as he could towards a slight indentation of the cliff beyond which he would be invisible to the smugglers, and where the ascent began. He was followed within a few moments by the second watcher. Just as he was beginning to climb he heard a low whisper behind him."I be comin' too, Maister Dick.""You here, Sam? What do you mean by this?""Don't 'ee talk, now. I'll tell 'ee when we get to top."They scrambled up the face of the cliff as actively as goats, clutching at stunted bushes and tufts of coarse grass, dodging awkward corners, fearful lest the stones and loose earth they disturbed should strike upon the boulders below and reveal their presence to the smugglers. Both were active lads with good wind, and their progress was no doubt more rapid, foot for foot, than that of the smugglers on the path a hundred yards to the right, encumbered as they were with their heavy sea-boots. But this advantage in speed was counterbalanced by the greater length of their course, though this in its turn was compensated by the fact that, unless Penwarden had already passed, they would be a hundred yards nearer to him when they reached the top.In six minutes from the start, panting with their exertions, they heaved themselves over the brink of the cliff and stood erect. Twenty yards to their right, Penwarden was in the act of raising his telescope to spy over the waters of the bay. With trembling limbs they ran towards him, Dick giving him warning of their presence by a low clear whisper. The old exciseman shut up his telescope with a snap, and turned."'Tis you, Maister Dick!" he said."Yes. Some one saw you. Two men are waiting for you on the path. I can't tell you their names. You'll be knocked over if you try to go down.""That's the way o't, is it? We'll see about that. Thank'ee for the warning. You didn't tell me they be running a cargo, but I know it. I'll dash their tricks.""But, Joe—""Don't stop me," said Penwarden, shaking off Dick's detaining arm. "'Tis my duty to stop this run, Mr. Mildmay being haled off on a wild-goose chase, and do it I will. But get 'ee home-along, sir, you are best out o' this, though if 'ee were a bit older, dash my bones if I wouldn't call on 'ee to help in the King's name."Without more ado, he took from his pocket the blue light, struck a spark from his tinder-box, and in a moment the cliff-top for many yards around was illuminated by the brilliant sputtering flame. It was intended to warn the lieutenant of the revenue cutter, if he were within sight, and to draw from their cottages in the village the tidesmen, as they were called, whose duty it was, on the alarm being given, to hasten to the exciseman's assistance. These men were cobblers, tinkers, and other small tradesmen, for the most part Methodists, who were ready to brave the hostility of the smugglers for the sake of good pay and a bounty for every hogshead seized.Dick was aghast. Things were turning out even worse than he expected. The light would enrage the smugglers, and they would be in no mood to handle the old man gently. Penwarden was already hurrying towards the path. It seemed to Dick sheer madness for one man, and a man no longer young, to attempt to deal with a score of rough and determined smugglers. He was rushing headlong upon destruction. All care for what might be the consequences to himself vanished from Dick's mind; he could not leave the exciseman to his fate. But what could he do to help him, without weapon of any kind? He suddenly bethought him of the fowling-pieces laid up in the little nook on the Beal."Come, Sam," he said, and started to run at full speed to fetch them. They passed Penwarden like a flash; there might just be time to return before he encountered the ambushed men. The blue light was now extinguished, and sea and land were covered with the former darkness.Much fleeter of foot than Sam, Dick outstripped him in a few seconds, and ran on alone to the little cave. He seized the fowling-pieces, and discovered that there was no ammunition; nevertheless, he raced back with them; they might serve to over-awe the smugglers, or in the last resort be used as clubs.He had only just rejoined Sam when they heard a rough voice call out a command to halt, and Penwarden's answer."Stand aside, in the King's name."Clearly the dauntless old man had arrived at the spot where the smugglers were in wait for him. The boys dashed forward, came to the head of the path, and ran recklessly down, Dick hoping that they might still be in time to prevent mischief. But before they reached the scene of the scuffle, they heard the noise of some heavy body crashing down the cliff, and then the roar of a pistol. Immediately afterwards they caught sight of two figures hurrying down the path."They've killed un dead!" muttered Sam.With his heart in his mouth, Dick ran down the path, slipping, recovering himself, and running again. Sam was close behind. About half-way down a body lay huddled on a projecting ledge, which had broken its fall and prevented it from crashing to the base of the cliff. Dick stooped over it, expecting to see Penwarden shot to the heart. To his intense relief he heard a groan, and turning the man over, he was just able to perceive that his face was blackened. Joe, then, had escaped, and was one of the two who had gone down the path and were now out of sight.The two boys hurried on. There was a great hubbub below them; having been discovered, the smugglers no longer troubled to preserve silence; and Dick, hearing their angry shouts and curses, feared that Penwarden's quixotic action in attempting to tackle them single-handed would prove his destruction. He took the rest of the path in reckless leaps, and, when he reached the beach, saw that the old exciseman had posted himself beside a row of tubs which he had seized in the King's name.In the confusion Dick's arrival was unobserved. The smugglers were thronging up the beach with threatening cries. Penwarden's pistol flashed, but next moment a heavy missile, hurled by one of the men, struck him on the head, and he fell."Throw un into the sea," shouted a rough voice.Half-a-dozen men rushed towards the prostrate man and began to drag him towards the water."Stand!" cried Dick, dashing forward. "Loose him, or we'll fire."
CHAPTER THE FIFTH
St. Cuby's Well
To see another eat when oneself is hungry, or sleep when oneself is wakeful, is surely very trying to the temper, except to those happily-constituted individuals who are incapable of envy. Dick Trevanion was as generous-hearted a boy as you could wish; but as the time went by, unmarked by anything but the slow rise of the boat and the quick dwindling of the candle in the lantern, he looked at Sam's open mouth with impatience, listened to his untuneful solo with dislike, and felt a deplorable desire to kick him. He had no watch, and bethought himself that it might be as well, when he got home, to test the duration of a candle, so that if he were ever in such a predicament again he might at least have a clock of King Alfred's sort. Every now and then he snuffed the coarse wick, and when the tallow had sunk almost to the socket, he substituted another candle-end that he happened to have in his pocket. Beyond this he had nothing to employ him.
But by-and-by, as the roof of the vault came nearer to him with the gradual lifting of the boat, an idea struck him. Why not use the boat as a raised platform for the ladder, and so contrive to examine an additional ten or twelve feet of the walls? The ladder!—it was floating on the surface of the water, heaving simultaneously with the boat as the tide gently rippled in.
"Wake up, Sam!" he called.
Sam snored on.
"Wake up!" cried Dick again, leaning over and pinching the sleeper's nose.
Sam struck out with his fist, as any honest English boy would have done, without opening his eyes. But at a third call he roused himself, sat up, and rubbing those heavy organs vigorously, sighed like a furnace, and then said sleepily:
"Why, where be I?"
"In dreamland, I should think," replied Dick, laughing. "Wake up! I want you to hold the ladder against the wall while I climb again."
"In twelve feet o' water! Not me; I bean't growed enough for that. 'Tis work for a giant."
"Not on the ground, of course; in the boat, I mean."
Sam looked dubious.
"Won't it wamble? And if you tumble you'll sink us."
"Well, we can try. Take hold of the end of the ladder floating by you, and I'll paddle close to the wall."
On lifting the ladder, they found that its top came within a few feet of the roof. But when Dick began to climb, he descended in a hurry, for the ladder being of necessity set up at an angle, every upward step drove the boat from the wall towards the middle of the cave.
"Be-jowned if we can do it!" cried Sam. "That there openin' will be the death o' me."
Dick was at a loss. There was no way of keeping the boat in a fixed position. Even if he dropped the anchor and it held in the sandy bottom, the boat would still have a range of movement that altogether prohibited the success of his plan. He looked gloomily at Sam; it was vexatious to be baulked when achievement was so near. Sam, with his hands on the sides of the ladder, was gazing up its length, his eyes gradually converging as they travelled higher, until they seemed almost to be looking at each other. All at once they reverted to their natural position, and he cried:
"I've got a noble thought, I do b'lieve."
"What's that?"
"Why, 'tis as easy as anything. See that place, Maister Dick, up aloft there, where the wall goes in summat?"
"Well, what then?"
"I'll show 'ee. You'd never ha' thought of it, 'cos you was lookin' down instead o' lookin' up."
He drew down the ladder until its whole length lay along one side of the boat.
"Look 'ee here," he said. "We'll take the anchor, and fix it upright in middle of the ladder, lash it to the top rung, do 'ee see?" He suited the action to the word. "There! Now 'tis a hook, or a clutch, or whatever name you like to gie un. We'll lift un again till it hooks on that ledge; then it will hang free, and you can climb as easy as climbing trees."
"A capital notion, Sam," cried Dick.
"I said it was, purticler for a poor mazy stunpoll of a feller like me."
"You're a genius if it works out. The thing is to try it."
Raising the ladder to its former position, they moved it along the face of the wall until one fluke of the anchor held firmly to the ledge of rock, as they proved by exerting a considerable downward strain.
"This is splendid," said Dick. "Now to go up."
"Ah, don't 'ee take the lantern with 'ee this time. I don't want no more cracks on the nob, and if it fell again, 't 'ud get soused in the water, and then we'd be in darkness."
"You're right. I'll take the candle out and stick it in my hat as the miners do. I must have a light, of course."
"I reckon you must, if you be goin' to find that openin'," said Sam, sceptical to the last.
Dick stuck the lighted candle into the band of his hat, stepped out of the boat, and began to climb, Sam watching his progress and offering bits of cautionary counsel. In a few seconds, when Dick's head projected above the anchor, he saw that the ledge of rock, extending for some distance on both sides, was the floor of a roughly rectangular fissure, which penetrated the earth much as the tunnel below penetrated the cliff. It ran upwards. The smoky light from the candle did not reach far, but Dick, peering over the ledge, was unable to see any solid background to the fissure.
"I've found the opening!" he said.
"What do 'ee say?" called Sam. "Yer voice sounds all a mumble and a rumble."
Clinging firmly to the ledge with both hands, Dick lowered his head and repeated the words.
"Now yer satisfied, then," said Sam. "Better come down afore the candle goes out."
"No. I'm going on."
"But chok' it all, you won't leave me all alone! I'm not afeard, not I; but if there be three or four seals a-comin' home by-and-by, I can't fight 'em all."
"You must come up too when I've looked a little farther."
"But you can't climb on to the ledge without summat to hold to. Maister Dick, think of yer feyther and mother, and what I'm to say if 'ee falls and breaks yer neck, and I take 'ee home a gashly corp."
"Don't talk rubbish. I shan't fall if you don't worry me. I'm not going to sit for hours longer in the boat till the tide goes down, so hold your tongue till I am safe aloft."
Leaning well forward, he carefully lifted his foot to the next rung, then to the next, watching the anchor to see that it was not displaced by his movements. Then he got one knee on the rocky shelf, stretched his arms in front of him, and with a sudden movement heaved his body on to the ledge and fell flat, his feet projecting into space. He crawled along on hands and knees until his boots disappeared from Sam's view, and stood up within the dark entrance of the fissure.
"I'm up, Sam," he called, his voice reverberating hollowly in the vault.
"Then I be comin' too," cried the boy.
"Not yet. You must wait a little until I see where the opening leads to. I'll come back for you presently."
He turned his face to the opening and went in. Dim as the light was, he recognised almost at once that he was at the end of a mine adit. Within a few paces the fissure narrowed to a dwarf tunnel, through which a tiny stream trickled, disappearing, not over the ledge into the cave, but into a fissure in the wall of rock. There was space for only two persons to pass abreast, and as Dick proceeded, he had to bend his head to avoid striking the roof. He was about to explore further, when he remembered that the candle in his hat could not last more than a few minutes, and to advance in the dark would be foolhardy. He had no more candles, and supposed that Sam had none, so that it seemed as if he must postpone further exploration. But returning to the ledge, he saw a light in the cave.
"You've got some more candle-ends, then?" he cried.
"One, that I've just fished up out of my pocket along with a bit of string, some bait, a bit o' pudden that I'd forgot—can't eat it now, hungry as I be, 'cos 'tis all tallowed—and a green penny."
"I want the candle, Sam; mine's going out. Can you pitch it up?"
"I can, but it 'ud only fall back into the water and go to the bottom."
"Wait. I've a bit of string in my pocket. I'll let it down; tie the candle on."
"I must do it, I suppose. Iss, you shall have it, and I'll be left in the dark, but I'm not afeard—not very."
In a minute Dick had the fresh candle in his hat-band, and once more entered the tunnel.
It was very damp, and Dick guessed from the trickling stream at his feet that the adit had been designed, when the mine was in operation, to drain the upper workings. How long ago this was he had no idea. It must have been long before old Reuben's time, or the man would have had more definite knowledge than he actually possessed, and the existence of the opening would have been known as a fact instead of being a mere fragment of village tradition.
Dick went on. In some parts the tunnel was almost impassable with earth and rocks that had fallen in. Step as cautiously as he might, every now and then the rattle of loose earth displaced by his movements caused a cold shiver to run down his back. What if there should be a fall behind him which would cut off his retreat to the cave? The tunnel ought to lead to an opening to the air above, but the way might be blocked, and the possibility of being entombed was daunting. But having come so far Dick was unwilling to give in. The peril might be purely imaginary. Plucking up his courage, he hastened his steps, and after a few minutes came to an enlargement of the tunnel. To his left a second gallery ran downward at a sharp angle with that in which he was; no doubt this also led to some point of the shore. Still advancing, he saw, with some surprise, that the passage was strutted in places, and much freer from obstructions than the portion he had already traversed. About a hundred yards beyond the transverse gallery, however, his progress was suddenly checked: the whole width of the tunnel was filled with a mass of rocks, stones, and loose earth. A few seconds' examination sufficed to show the impossibility of proceeding farther in this direction; accordingly he retraced his steps and, a few yards away, came to another passage, to find, however, after twenty or thirty paces, that he was again brought to a stop.
This time the obstruction was of a different nature. It was a rough door made of stout wooden beams, closed with a heavy bar resting in sockets. He lifted the bar and pulled the creaking door, which came towards him for an inch or two, and then stuck. To open it fully he had to remove from the floor a number of planks and beams, which appeared to be the parts of a broken windlass. Having got the door open and passed through, he found himself in a square chamber that smelt very damp and close, though, on looking upwards, he could see no roof. He concluded that he was at the bottom of a deep shaft. But it had not the look of a mine shaft, which, so far as Dick's experience went, was always timbered. The walls here were cased with stone, moss-grown and damp.
Near the doorway he caught sight of a staple of rusty iron let into the wall; a little above this, a second of the same kind; and at the same interval above the second, a third. Looking up the wall, he perceived that similar staples projected from the stonework as far up as the flickering light of his candle revealed. Their shape, and the intervals between them, indicated that they were steps by which the wall could be climbed. And then it flashed upon him suddenly that he was in an ancient well, known as St. Cuby's Well, though who St. Cuby was nobody knew except, perhaps, Mr. Carlyon, deeply learned in the antiquities of his county. The upper end of the well-shaft opened on the cliff, about a quarter-mile from the cottage of old Joe Penwarden, the exciseman. It was covered by the ivy-grown ruins of a small oratory, whither in times long past the faithful had come to have their children baptised in the water of the holy well, to drink of it for the cure of their diseases, and to offer up vows and repeat prayers before the sacred cross.
Strange as it may seem, Dick's first impulse, when the identity of his whereabouts flashed upon him, was to dash through the doorway and scamper with all imaginable speed back to the cave. He was not more superstitious than other boys of his age; but in those days, before old beliefs and fancies had undergone the cold douche of science, people were credulous of omens and spells, blessings and curses, beneficent influences and the evil eye. From St. Cuby's Well the aroma of sanctity had long since departed; according to village tradition, a murder of peculiar horror had once been committed there; and now it was shunned as a plague spot. No pilgrims came to kneel beneath the sacred roof; no children ever played hide and seek among its picturesque ruins; everybody, from the Squire downwards, avoided it, and at night not a man would have ventured within a hundred yards of its unhallowed precincts. Stories were rife of apparitions seen there; it was these ghosts of which Ike Pendry had spoken to John Trevanion on the night when he had overtaken the trudging pedestrian on the high road.
Dick, of course, had no belief in ghosts, and regarded the stories with as much intellectual contempt as his father gave to the witch's couplet. But his imagination was subject to impressions which his reason scorned; and in the gloom of the well-shaft, which the yellow rays of his candle rendered more awful than complete darkness could have been, these vague conceptions of murder, sacrilege, and midnight hauntings possessed his mind so completely as at first to overwhelm his common-sense. But he resolutely crushed down these figments of his imagination, told himself that such evil traditions might probably be traced to no more real origin than the failure of the spring of water, and decided to go back for his companion and put an end to their captivity by climbing up the iron steps to the surface of the cliff.
"Oh, I am glad to see 'ee," cried Sam, as his young master's head appeared at the brink of the ledge. "I bean't afeard, not I, but 'twas 'nation dark, and I felt a queer wamblin' in the inside o' me, 'cos I'm tarrible hungry, I reckon."
"Well, come along. I've found the way out. The opening leads to St. Cuby's Well, and we can climb to the top in no time."
"St. Cuby's Well! Dash my bones if I go within a mile o't. Dead men's bones, and sperits o' darkness—no, never will I do it."
"Stuff and nonsense!" cried Dick, as stoutly as if he had never felt the least tremor on his own account. "I've seen no bones, and the spirits haven't laid a hand on me. Those silly tales only frighten children."
"And females. Ah, 'tis a pity the mistress won't let me take eggs and things to the Dower House. What I could tell to that nice young female wi' the hole in her rosy cheeks! How they'd go yaller and white when she heerd my tale of blood, and ghosteses in night-gowns, and all the other things o' darkness! Ah, 'twas to be, I s'pose: she'll hear it from some one else, and I shan't get the credit of it."
"No; she'll hear that you were too much of a baby to face 'em, and she'll despise you, instead of thinking well of you as she does now."
"Don't say it, Maister Dick," cried the boy. "Scrounch me if I lose my fame in that miserable way. I'll come, if you'll stand by me, and hold my hand if we hears a noise, and use your finest language to the sperits if they meddle wi' us. I've heerd tell that the Lord's prayer said back'ards will tarrify 'em out of their wits, but I reckon yer head's full of ancient heathen words that go straightfor'ard, and won't put 'ee to such a tarrible tax as turnin' religion topsy-turvy."
This was said as Sam climbed with deliberate care up the ladder. He gained the ledge more easily than Dick had done, having the help of Dick's hand.
"Can we get there afore candle's out?" he said anxiously, when they stood side by side.
"If we make haste," replied Dick, taking off his hat and looking at the inch-and-a-half of candle left, and the mass of tallow that lay on the brim like a small lake of lava. "We can fetch the boat at low-tide to-morrow."
They hurried on, and, Dick knowing the way, reached the shaft in much quicker time than when he had come alone. Sam got behind him at the doorway, peering under his armpits with wide eyes, and taking much comfort when he saw nothing but mossy walls.
"I'm downright shamed o' folks that believe in such gammut," he said, valiantly following Dick into the chamber.
"Well, now we'll climb up. It must be after sunset, or we should see a glimmer of light at the top. I'll go first."
"No, I'd better go first," said Sam hastily, looking round with something of his former air of timorous expectation. "You see, if you go first, the brim of yer hat will shet out all the light, and I'll miss my footing and be nawthin' but scattered members. But if I go first, do 'ee see, and you come close behind me—but not close enough to set my stockings afire—the light will be ekal betwixt us two. Do 'ee see my manin', Maister Dick?"
"Quite plain. I don't mind. We'll try one or two of the staples first, to make sure they are firm in the stonework, and then you can mount, and as your hind foot leaves one step, my fore hand will clutch it."
The staples stood the test of pulling, first by Dick, then by Sam, who also tried them, on the plea that he had more muscle. Then Sam began to climb, followed closely by Dick. After an ascent of perhaps a hundred feet, the former declared that he felt a whiff of fresh air, and immediately afterwards the candle flame was blown out. Looking up past Sam's fore-shortened body, Dick saw one star in the clear dark vault of the sky, and in a few seconds they were both standing on the ground beside the well-head, cooled by the breeze that blew through the ruined walls of the chapel from the sea. The roof had gone long ago; grass grew on the floor, and ivy twined itself in and out of the mullioned windows.
"There!" said Dick. "We are safe, you see. All that talk of ghosts is pure balderdash."
The darkness and the weird associations of the spot combined to make him set his tone of voice to a murmur. At that moment there fell upon the ears of the boys, as they stood side by side to recover breath after their climb, a low sound from somewhere beyond the walls, but not far away. It was like that of a person speaking in hollow, mournful accents. Sam caught Dick by the arm; Dick heard his teeth chatter.
"'Tis he!" whispered the trembling boy. "'Tis the ghost! Oh! let me hide myself afore he see I."
Dick did not reply. He was, it must be confessed, sufficiently startled. The sound ceased; but in a moment or two it recommenced, now being somewhat louder. Dick was in two minds, now thinking that he would run, now wondering whether he had not better stay. The slow droning still approached, and at last he caught articulate words:
"A-deary me! A-deary me! The world's a-cold, a bitter place for——"
The next words were indistinguishable.
"Hark to him!" whispered Sam. "He be in mortal pain, and I do feel that leery all down the small o' my back."
Dick sniffed, and sniffed again. Then he said:
"Ghosts don't smoke, Sam—at any rate, not tobacco. I'm going to see."
"How do 'ee know?" whispered Sam, still holding him by the arm. "I won't be so much afeard of him if he do be smoking bacca, but it may be summat else. It do smell rayther strong for a livin' man."
He followed Dick as he groped his way over fragments of masonry and through close-woven masses of ivy and weeds, until they came into the open. The night was very dark. The first thing they saw, at a distance of about twelve yards, was a small red glow, which brightened and faded at intervals. Drawing nearer to it cautiously, they perceived at the moments of greatest brightness that it lit up for an instant a grizzled chin, a sunken mouth, a quite ordinary nose, a ruddy face with a black patch over one eye, and a black hat over all.
"'Tis old Joe Penwarden," said Dick, in a tone that expressed surprise, relief, and a shame-faced consciousness.
"So 'tis, I do believe," cried Sam. "Be-jowned if 'a didn't ought to be locked up for playing such gashly tricks on poor souls."
"Avast there! Stand, in the King's name!" cried the old man, hearing their voices.
"So we will, so we will," said Sam. "Don't 'ee be afeard, maister; we bean't ghosteses, but just common mortals like yerself."
"Oh! 'tis you, Maister Dick," said Penwarden, as the boys came up to him. "'Pon my life, I was skeered for about a second and a half, never expectin' to see mortal men in this old haunt. What be 'ee doin' at this time o' night, in such a place, too?"
"What time is it, Joe?" asked Dick.
"Time all young things like lambs and birds and boys were abed and asleep. 'Tis past ten."
"Lawk-a-massy, if I didn't think it by the terrible emptiness in my inside," cried Sam, feelingly. "Come home-along, Maister Dick; I be mortal afeard as Feyther will send me to bed wi'out any supper."
"Wait a bit," replied Dick. "Where do you think we've been, Joe?"
"Not night-fishing, for ye've got no tackle. Nor rabbitin', for ye've got no snares. Ah, well! Ye med as well tell me first as last, for I be no good at guessin'."
"We've come up St. Cuby's Well."
"Come up, you say; but you must go down afore ye come up. I wouldn't like to say I don't believe 'ee."
"That would be very unfriendly. The truth is, Joe, we were down in the cave and got shut in by the tide, and to pass the time away we climbed up over a ledge and found ourselves in an old adit, and went along it till we came to the well-shaft. There are iron steps in the wall, and up we came."
"Well, if that bean't the queerest thing I've heerd for many a day. Who would ever ha' thowt it!"
"Didn't you know there were steps down the well side?
"Never heerd tell o' sech a thing."
"But haven't you seen it for yourself? I was thinking that, perhaps, you being here now, you knew all about it, and the idea did cross me that you might be the ghost people talk about, though to be sure you don't look like one."
"Bless 'ee, I've never set foot inside they walls. Sometimes of a night I come ramblin' round to smoke a peaceful pipe and meditate on the days o' my youth afore I turn in, but as for goin' inside—no, I've never thowt o't."
"Was 'ee afeard you med see the ghost, maister?" asked Sam, rejoicing to think that he had a fellow in timorousness.
"Well, no. A ghost is a sperit, they say, and I reckon I've got enough muscle in my aged arm to fend off a thing as has got no body."
"Still, you was talkin' to yerself as if ye was in great pain and sorrer. 'A-deary me,' 'ee said; I heard 'ee twice; and then 'the world's a-cold,'—and I s'pose 'ee felt the need o' takin' a comfortin' pull at yer pipe, for I heerd no more."
"It do show how young small chickerels like 'ee may be mistaken. Whenever I talk like that I be feelin' warmish and contented; remember that, young Sam, and don't traipse about spreadin' false reports about me. Moreover, don't 'ee tell nothing of yer climbing up the well, for 'a don't want the village rampin' round, spoilin' my peacefulness. St. Cuby's ghost hev his uses, and long may he walk."
"Very well, Joe," said Dick, "we'll say nothing about it. There have been no runs yet, I suppose?"
"No; 'tis early days for that. 'Tis true as Mr. Mildmay was called off Morvah way to-day. Maybe they'll try a run there to-night. But it won't be long afore we have trouble here, I reckon, for the pilchurs are late this year, and when they're late, smugglin' is early, 'cos the men get tired o' doin' nothing."
"Well, we had better be going. I usually tell Mother when I expect to be late, fishing or what not, and she'll wonder what has become of me. Are you coming our way, Joe?"
"Not yet, sir. I've a bit more meditation to get through first."
"What do you meditate about?" asked Dick.
"About my days o' youth, when I was a nimble young feller and served the King afloat. Ah! they were days, they were. Lord Admiral Nelson be a fine little chap, but nothing to the admiral I served with."
"Who was that?"
"Lord Admiral Rodney. Never shall I forget the time he spoke to me: yes, lord as he was, he did so. It do warm me of a cold night to think of it. Not every simple mariner could say he'd been spoke to ashore by sech a high person as a admiral."
"What did the lord high admiral say to 'ee?" asked Sam, much impressed.
"Well, 'twas on Plymouth Hoe, and the admiral was walking with two handsome females, showing 'em Drake's Island; Drake was another mariner, you must know, as lived about a thousand year ago, seemingly. Well, I turned round to look at the great man, and that moment he changed his course, put up his helm, ye may say, and ran across my bows. 'Get out o' the way, you cross-eyed son of a sea-cook!' says he to me. Ah! never shall I forget it, nor the tinkly laugh o' they fine females. 'Twas a great honour to be spoke to special by Lord Admiral Rodney, a fine feller of a man."
"I don't wonder it keeps you warm," said Dick, laughing. "Good-night, Joe."
"Good-night to you, sir. And young Sam, mind 'ee o' what I said."
"Make yourself easy, maister," returned Sam. "Oh, dear, what a thing it 'ud be to tell the maidy at the Dower House if on'y Squire warn't so cruel!"
"What are you mumblin' about?"
"Nawthin', Maister Penwarden. I were on'y thinkin' to myself what a lot o' folk 'ud be mazed if they knowed what sorrerful things ye do say when yer happy."
CHAPTER THE SIXTH
Penwarden does his Duty
Late as it was, neither Dick nor Sam was fated to get any sleep for hours. They walked rapidly without speaking across the cliff towards the Towers, being in fact so tired and hungry that the thoughts of both were fixed on supper and bed. There was no path on this part of the cliff, except a faint track which daylight would have revealed, where the grass had been slightly worn by Joe Penwarden in his marchings to and fro. Ordinary pedestrians always avoided the windings of the shore, taking the high road farther inland.
The boys had come within a hundred yards of Penwarden's cottage, when Sam all at once took Dick by the sleeve, saying:
"Look, Maister Dick, there be some one at old Joe's door."
It was too dark to see clearly, but Dick could just distinguish, now that it was pointed out to him, a dark form close against the whitewashed cottage on the side facing the sea.
"It's very odd at this time of night," he said. "We had better go and tell the man, whoever he is, where he can find Joe."
They hurried on, but had not gone more than half-way to the cottage when the figure moved from the door, and walked quickly in the direction of the Towers. There was a footpath at the back of the garden, over which the villagers had an immemorial right of way, though it was really the Squire's private property.
Dick was on the point of calling out when Sam checked him.
"That be Jake Tonkin," he said, quietly: "I know un by his bow legs. What med he want wi' old Joe, now?"
Jake was the son of Isaac Tonkin, the expertest fisher, the boldest seaman, and the most cunning and resourceful smuggler in the village. Isaac was a rough, quick-tempered fellow, violent when roused, but honest according to his lights; and Dick had a certain admiration for him, as every boy must have for a strong man who excels in bold and daring deeds. Once or twice he had gone fishing in Tonkin's smack, and had learnt a good deal from the man's blunt speech and craftsmanlike actions.
It was perfectly well known in the neighbourhood that Tonkin was the ringleader of the smugglers, but owing to his wariness and craft, and to the supineness of the revenue officer who had preceded Mr. Mildmay, nothing had ever been openly proved against him, and he had never been caught in the act. In the previous winter he had narrowly escaped a conflict with Mr. Mildmay, then in his first year of duty at this part of the coast; and it was common talk in the village that he resented the intrusion, as he regarded it, of so zealous an officer, and had promised to give the revenue men a very hot time if they interfered with him. It was he whose presence John Trevanion had remarked as he passed the open door of the tap-room in Doubledick's inn.
Dick was as much surprised as Sam to find that Penwarden's visitor was Tonkin's son. There was naturally no love lost between the exciseman and the free-traders, who had, however, looked upon him with a sort of contemptuous tolerance until Mr. Mildmay came. The old man had been harmless enough in the days of Mr. Curgenven; not that he was remiss in his duty, but that his efforts had been rendered nugatory by his superior's apathy. The advent of Mr. Mildmay acted as a stimulus; Penwarden was in truth fearful of being thought too old for his work, and seemed to set himself deliberately to prove the contrary to the officer. More than once in the previous winter he had prevented a run by his timely warnings; and though the checks were only temporary, the smugglers were annoyed with him for the difficulties he threw in their way. It was therefore strange that young Tonkin should have gone to visit, so late at night, a man from whom the smugglers in general held severely aloof. Suddenly Dick remembered what Penwarden had said about Mr. Mildmay having been summoned to Morvah, twenty-five miles or more down the coast. It was a favourite device of the smugglers, by aid of confederates, to decoy the officers to distant parts when they were intending to make a run, and Dick could not help wondering whether they were putting it in practice on the present occasion. But it did not explain Jake Tonkin's visit, and Dick was now sufficiently interested to think no more of his fatigue and hunger in his desire to ascertain what was afoot. He knew that it was no business of his; the Squire had carefully abstained from taking sides in the perennial quarrel between the smugglers and the revenue men, and had indeed resigned his magistracy, partly because of his reduced circumstances, but quite as much in order to avoid any official action as a county justice. Dick did not intend to break this neutrality; he was simply curious and athirst for excitement.
But he reflected that he could hardly satisfy his curiosity without spying on Jake Tonkin, and this was out of the question. He would have ruefully done nothing more had he not seen that the lad, instead of keeping to the path that ran directly to the village, struck off to the left along a track that led nowhere but to the Dower House. This raised his curiosity to a still higher pitch. What had Tonkin to do with John Trevanion? Knowing that his father and John were on bad terms, and having seen many little indications that the latter was bent on annoying his cousin, it was natural that he should wonder whether the interests of the Squire were in any way affected by the apparent connection between John and the smugglers. After a little hesitation, he sent Sam into the Towers, to reassure his parents and then go to bed, and went on himself after the waddling figure of Jake Tonkin, now almost out of sight.
Walking quickly, he was in time to see Jake enter an outhouse at the rear of the mansion. The door closed behind him, and Dick, taking a look round, and seeing no one, ran swiftly to the building and peeped through the window. The room was lighted by a single candle, whose rays fell on the forms of a dozen men seated on chairs, stools, pails, and the table. All had their faces blackened, and he failed to discover among them the large and massive form, almost impossible to disguise, of Jake's father.
"He be fast asleep," he heard Jake say, evidently in answer to a question. "I knocked once, a little un; then twice, rayther louder; then I tried the door: 'twas locked. I didn't hear un snore, but maybe he sleeps quiet."
"Hee! hee! 'a will sleep quieter in the grave," said a voice, which Dick had no difficulty in recognising as that of Doubledick, the innkeeper, whose conversation was always partial to death and the churchyard and similar cheerful subjects.
"Mildmay would fly in a passion if he knew old Joe were asleep," said a man whose voice Dick could not identify.
"Ay, and so would riding-officer," added a third. He referred to the official so denominated, whose duty it was to work on shore hand in hand with Mr. Mildmay on the sea, and who was in effect in charge of the coast for ten or fifteen miles, acting under the Custom House officer at St. Ives.
"Oh, 't'ud only be a little small passion," said Doubledick, "'cos the summer bean't over, and not a man of 'em will look for us to begin afore pilchur fishin' be past."
"Body o' me, hain't we 'ticed Mildmay away to stop a run?"
"Nay, sonny, 'twas tidings of a French privateer that baited him. 'Tis a proper dark night, and if the wind holds, Zacky will be here a little arter midnight. And the manin' o' that is twenty pound in our pockets, a noble fust lesson to say 'magnify' arter."
Dick sighed inwardly; what a boon twenty pounds would be to his father's impoverished treasury! Like all the gentlemen of the county, the Squire was willing to purchase smuggled goods; it seemed to Dick that there was not a great distinction between the purchaser and the smuggler; and yet he knew that his father would be horrified at the idea of enriching himself in that way. From what he had overheard it was clear that a run, the first of the season, was to be attempted that night, and since this did not concern the Squire, he was about to return home, when he heard the click of a lock, followed by footsteps from the house, and slipped round the angle of the building just in time to escape the eyes of John Trevanion.
The owner of the Dower House joined the smugglers, and Dick heard his loud and hearty greeting.
"Well, my friends, is all clear? No scent for the hounds, eh?"
"Not so much as would cover a penny-piece," cried Doubledick. "Hee! hee! Old Joe's abed."
"I'm glad of it. Mind you, you must not bring the tubs here if there's any interruption. It would never do for the county to know that I'm a freighter."
"Trust we for that, yer honour; we know you must keep up yer high place, and 'tis generous of 'ee to lend us yer cellars."
"Well, Doubledick, here's the key. I shall be abed, of course; I know nothing about your doings, and I can trust you to work quietly and not wake the servants."
"Iss, fay, yer honour," said a man: "ye can trust Billy Doubledick, to be sure. He be a very clever feller: I say it to his face."
"Good night, then. I wish you well."
Dick heard his cousin return to the house and lock the door. So John Trevanion was a freighter: one who bought contraband goods in a foreign port, paid the expenses of shipment and carrying, and received the profits. This was food for reflection. A word to Mr. Mildmay or Mr. Polwhele, the riding-officer, would lead to John Trevanion's arrest. The fate of smugglers caught in the act was five years' service in a man-of-war, or a long term of imprisonment; aiders and abettors also were subject to heavy penalties; and Dick would have liked to rid the neighbourhood of the man who had caused his father such distress. But he could not play the shabby part of informer, and for the first time in his life he wished heartily that the smugglers might be caught, and their connection with Trevanion discovered; hitherto his sympathies had been entirely on their side.
Since there was nothing to be gained by remaining longer at the outhouse, he went quietly away and walked back towards the Towers. But he was so much interested in his strange discovery that he felt it would be impossible to sleep until he knew whether the run proved successful. On reaching home, therefore, he went first to his mother's room to bid her good-night, then to the dining-room to get some supper, and shortly after eleven o'clock stole out again. He had never seen a smuggling run, and the likelihood that this one would be entirely undisturbed promised a peaceful view, without any risk of running into danger, of which he knew that his parents would disapprove.
He had not learnt where the run was to be, but guessed, if the tubs were to be carried to the cellars of the Dower House, that the head of Trevanion Bay would be the chosen spot. It was the most convenient place near to the Dower House, except the little harbour itself, which was not likely to be selected. He made his way, therefore, along the narrow headland known as the Beal, which formed the southern boundary of the bay. Near the end of the headland, overlooking the narrow passage between it and the reef, by which vessels could enter the harbour at low tide, was the favourite playground of his early boyhood. It was a hollow in the cliff, screened from observation seaward by a huge boulder somewhat insecurely poised. Only a few years had passed since Sam and he used to play there at fighting the French. There they had their toy citadel, from which they bombarded Boney's squadrons attempting an invasion. From it, too, they could see on to the decks of vessels passing in and out of the harbour at low tide, and hugging the cliff to avoid the reef. They played also at smuggling, and it is noteworthy that they were always the successful smugglers, and never the baulked and discomfited preventive men. It was a lonely spot, and they had it quite to themselves except for the gulls.
When, as they grew older, they no longer took the same childish delight in playing French and English, they turned the place into a storehouse for fishing gear. In a remote corner of the nook, they scooped out the earth to form a deep recess, lined this with wood, and kept there a reserve supply of hooks, tackle, rope, a spare anchor and sculls, two fowling-pieces, and other articles, by this means often saving themselves a journey back to the Towers. Lonely as the spot was, they often quaked with apprehension lest their secret should be discovered, especially during the pilchard season. At that time the huer, whose duty it was to keep watch, and indicate by flourishing a bush, for the benefit of the fishers below, the direction in which the shoals of fish were swimming, was accustomed to take his stand on the headland. But he naturally chose the highest point, and had no reason to seek the lower level of the cave, where he could neither see nor be seen so well. The boys were always careful to avoid the neighbourhood of their storehouse when the huer was about, and there being nothing to draw any one else to the spot, the secret had remained undiscovered.
It was towards this place that Dick proceeded on leaving the Towers. But when he arrived there, he found at once that if the smugglers' cargo was to be run in the bay it would be impossible to see anything of it. The night was particularly dark; only such moonless nights were chosen by the smugglers for their operations; and even the grey cliffs were almost invisible from where he stood. He determined, therefore, to return along the headland, and make his way down the face of the cliff by the path whereby he had ascended with Sam on the night of their bass fishing. There were recesses at the foot, in one of which he could easily conceal himself and watch all that went on. And as there was no time to lose, if he was to be in hiding before the smugglers arrived, he walked rapidly, and climbed down the steep path at a pace that would have been dangerous to any one who was not well acquainted with it.
He was unaware that a figure was following him. There was no sound of footsteps to attract his attention: he did not look back, and if he had done so he could hardly have seen the form that steadily kept pace with him at the distance of sixty or seventy yards. The second figure descended the path with the same surefooted ease, paused at the foot till Dick was out of sight, and then stole after him and ensconced himself in a hollow of the cliff only about three yards from that in which Dick had stationed himself. These hiding-places were some twenty yards from the bottom of the path.
Neither of the two silent watchers suspected that, on the cliff above them, a third figure was approaching the path by which they had descended, but from the opposite direction. Old Penwarden, so far from being snugly asleep, as Jake Tonkin rashly concluded, had never been more wide-awake in his life. The summoning of Mr. Mildmay to a distance, the lateness of the pilchard season, and the darkness of the night, combined to make him suspicious, and he had resolved to patrol the cliff from St. Cuby's Well to the Beal, to satisfy himself that the smugglers were not already at their tricks. Having smoked through his pipe at the Well, he returned to his cottage, took the telescope, the brace of pistols, the ammunition, the cutlass, and the blue light for giving an alarm which were his regular equipment, and began to march slowly and quietly up and down.
About ten minutes after the lads had taken up their positions, they heard a stone come rattling down the path twenty yards to the left. A few seconds after, they were just able to discern a dark figure emerge on to the beach. This was followed by another, and a third, and soon the whole beach was alive with dusky shapes. The tide was ebbing, but a stiff breeze sent long rollers dashing over the sand, their roar and rustle smothering the low voices of the men as they talked fitfully together.
The watchers saw one of the men drive an iron post firmly into the sand and attach to it the end of a rope. The other end was fastened to a similar post in the earth at the top of the cliff. By this means a rail was formed, to give assistance to the carriers as they climbed up with their burdens.
A little later there came from seaward a faint creak, scarcely distinguishable among the other sounds. The watchers pricked up their ears. Even at low tide there was enough water beneath the cliffs to enable a vessel to run in very close, and the hidden spectators guessed that a lugger was drawing in: at present they could not see it. The shore men were all low down on the beach. In a few minutes the men could be heard splashing in the water as they waded out to the vessel. Then the lugger itself appeared, a dark shape on the surface.
Soon the men could be seen returning in a long line, each one apparently twice as big as before. Each bore two tubs, one in front, one behind, slung over his shoulders by ropes which had been fitted before they left the lugger.
Several of the men had deposited their burdens on the beach, and were going back for more, when there was a noise of scrambling on the path. Work ceased instantly. A figure ran a few yards towards the sea, and spoke to a large man who appeared to be directing the operations. His words were just audible to the watchers.
"Old Joe be comin' along cliff-top, Feyther."
"But they told me you said 'a was asleep."
"So 'a was, but 'a must ha' waked up. He be comin', sure enough."
"You must be a cussed stunpoll, then, to come slitherin' down cliff like that, makin' a rattle to wake the dead. Well, no matter. We can deal wi' old Joe, if so be as he's alone."
"Iss, he be alone. I pulled up the post and brought the rope down-along."
"You've some sense in yer skull, then. Now you, Pendred, and you, Simon Mail, go up cliff and keep a watch. Stand yerselves in that narrow part three-quarters of the way up, and if the old meddler comes, seize un, and choke un, but don't do un a hurt unless he shows fight. We don't want no crowner's quest."
The two men selected to waylay the exciseman set off to climb the cliff, and the work of running the cargo was resumed.
Dick was in a quandary. He had no interest in doing preventive work, and there were many reasons why he should refrain from interfering. But old Penwarden was a friend of his, and a mettlesome old fellow, who would certainly not allow himself to be seized without a struggle. Moreover, being armed, as he doubtless was, he would have a temporary advantage over the smugglers, who, expecting no opposition, would probably have no weapons with them but their knives. But it might well be that in the struggle the smugglers, driven to desperation, would make short work of rushing upon him and flinging him over the cliff; or if the struggle were prolonged, they could summon help from below, overpower him, and truss him up. In either case the old man would be in considerable danger, for the smugglers, when their passions were aroused, would not be over-scrupulous.
These considerations flashed through Dick's mind in a second. He could not let Penwarden run into danger unwarned; yet how was the warning to be given? There was but one way. A few yards to the right of the spot where he stood it was possible to scale the cliff. The ascent was much longer and more arduous than the regular path, and there was the risk that he would not be in time. Unless he gained the cliff-top before Penwarden had passed, he would be too late. There was not a moment to spare.
Dropping down on hands and knees behind a boulder that intercepted the view seaward, he crawled as fast as he could towards a slight indentation of the cliff beyond which he would be invisible to the smugglers, and where the ascent began. He was followed within a few moments by the second watcher. Just as he was beginning to climb he heard a low whisper behind him.
"I be comin' too, Maister Dick."
"You here, Sam? What do you mean by this?"
"Don't 'ee talk, now. I'll tell 'ee when we get to top."
They scrambled up the face of the cliff as actively as goats, clutching at stunted bushes and tufts of coarse grass, dodging awkward corners, fearful lest the stones and loose earth they disturbed should strike upon the boulders below and reveal their presence to the smugglers. Both were active lads with good wind, and their progress was no doubt more rapid, foot for foot, than that of the smugglers on the path a hundred yards to the right, encumbered as they were with their heavy sea-boots. But this advantage in speed was counterbalanced by the greater length of their course, though this in its turn was compensated by the fact that, unless Penwarden had already passed, they would be a hundred yards nearer to him when they reached the top.
In six minutes from the start, panting with their exertions, they heaved themselves over the brink of the cliff and stood erect. Twenty yards to their right, Penwarden was in the act of raising his telescope to spy over the waters of the bay. With trembling limbs they ran towards him, Dick giving him warning of their presence by a low clear whisper. The old exciseman shut up his telescope with a snap, and turned.
"'Tis you, Maister Dick!" he said.
"Yes. Some one saw you. Two men are waiting for you on the path. I can't tell you their names. You'll be knocked over if you try to go down."
"That's the way o't, is it? We'll see about that. Thank'ee for the warning. You didn't tell me they be running a cargo, but I know it. I'll dash their tricks."
"But, Joe—"
"Don't stop me," said Penwarden, shaking off Dick's detaining arm. "'Tis my duty to stop this run, Mr. Mildmay being haled off on a wild-goose chase, and do it I will. But get 'ee home-along, sir, you are best out o' this, though if 'ee were a bit older, dash my bones if I wouldn't call on 'ee to help in the King's name."
Without more ado, he took from his pocket the blue light, struck a spark from his tinder-box, and in a moment the cliff-top for many yards around was illuminated by the brilliant sputtering flame. It was intended to warn the lieutenant of the revenue cutter, if he were within sight, and to draw from their cottages in the village the tidesmen, as they were called, whose duty it was, on the alarm being given, to hasten to the exciseman's assistance. These men were cobblers, tinkers, and other small tradesmen, for the most part Methodists, who were ready to brave the hostility of the smugglers for the sake of good pay and a bounty for every hogshead seized.
Dick was aghast. Things were turning out even worse than he expected. The light would enrage the smugglers, and they would be in no mood to handle the old man gently. Penwarden was already hurrying towards the path. It seemed to Dick sheer madness for one man, and a man no longer young, to attempt to deal with a score of rough and determined smugglers. He was rushing headlong upon destruction. All care for what might be the consequences to himself vanished from Dick's mind; he could not leave the exciseman to his fate. But what could he do to help him, without weapon of any kind? He suddenly bethought him of the fowling-pieces laid up in the little nook on the Beal.
"Come, Sam," he said, and started to run at full speed to fetch them. They passed Penwarden like a flash; there might just be time to return before he encountered the ambushed men. The blue light was now extinguished, and sea and land were covered with the former darkness.
Much fleeter of foot than Sam, Dick outstripped him in a few seconds, and ran on alone to the little cave. He seized the fowling-pieces, and discovered that there was no ammunition; nevertheless, he raced back with them; they might serve to over-awe the smugglers, or in the last resort be used as clubs.
He had only just rejoined Sam when they heard a rough voice call out a command to halt, and Penwarden's answer.
"Stand aside, in the King's name."
Clearly the dauntless old man had arrived at the spot where the smugglers were in wait for him. The boys dashed forward, came to the head of the path, and ran recklessly down, Dick hoping that they might still be in time to prevent mischief. But before they reached the scene of the scuffle, they heard the noise of some heavy body crashing down the cliff, and then the roar of a pistol. Immediately afterwards they caught sight of two figures hurrying down the path.
"They've killed un dead!" muttered Sam.
With his heart in his mouth, Dick ran down the path, slipping, recovering himself, and running again. Sam was close behind. About half-way down a body lay huddled on a projecting ledge, which had broken its fall and prevented it from crashing to the base of the cliff. Dick stooped over it, expecting to see Penwarden shot to the heart. To his intense relief he heard a groan, and turning the man over, he was just able to perceive that his face was blackened. Joe, then, had escaped, and was one of the two who had gone down the path and were now out of sight.
The two boys hurried on. There was a great hubbub below them; having been discovered, the smugglers no longer troubled to preserve silence; and Dick, hearing their angry shouts and curses, feared that Penwarden's quixotic action in attempting to tackle them single-handed would prove his destruction. He took the rest of the path in reckless leaps, and, when he reached the beach, saw that the old exciseman had posted himself beside a row of tubs which he had seized in the King's name.
In the confusion Dick's arrival was unobserved. The smugglers were thronging up the beach with threatening cries. Penwarden's pistol flashed, but next moment a heavy missile, hurled by one of the men, struck him on the head, and he fell.
"Throw un into the sea," shouted a rough voice.
Half-a-dozen men rushed towards the prostrate man and began to drag him towards the water.
"Stand!" cried Dick, dashing forward. "Loose him, or we'll fire."