CHAPTER THE ELEVENTHSir Bevil IntervenesSoon after breakfast next morning Dick and Sam went down to the shore to launch their boat for a day's fishing. The post to which it was moored being close under the cliffs, they did not come in sight of it until they reached the foot of the winding path. Then Sam, who was walking ahead, uttered a cry."What is it?" asked Dick, hurrying on."Scrounch it all, look 'ee, Maister Dick!"The boat lay on the white sand, but it was a navigable vessel no longer. It had been sawn across in three places. The old craft, which had withstood for forty years the battering of innumerable waves and the more insidious attacks of time, and in which three generations of Trevanions had sailed upon the deep, would be launched no more. It would henceforth serve no useful end except as firewood.Dick felt first a pang of grief, then a surge of bitter rage. His enemies could not have chosen a more galling or vindictive means of wreaking their ill-will. They had dealt with the boat as the smugglers' craft were dealt with when captured by the revenue officers. Dick saw in their act a subtle indication of the thoroughness with which they identified him with the Government men. It said: "You have joined the revenue officers; very well, we treat you as they treat us." He had no doubt that the destruction of the boat and the firing of the tool-house were parts of one scheme."The cowards!" he exclaimed, "to do behind our backs what they durst not do to our face.""'Tis a miserable, dirty deed," agreed Sam. "We must tell of it to the high powers.""Much good that will be!" cried Dick bitterly. "We can't tell who did it; Sir Bevil will only instruct Petherick, and he is too much of a fool ever to find out, if he wanted to, which is unlikely. We can do nothing, Sam.""How can we go fishing now?" said Sam gloomily. "'Tis takin' the bread out of our mouth, that's what it is. They mean us to starve, the wretches."The loss of the boat was indeed a serious blow to the family at the Towers. The principal source of their food supply was cut off. In the present state of war between them and the villagers it would be impossible to borrow a boat, and the only place from which the boys could now fish the sea was the head of the jetty, where they would come into awkward contact with the hostile fishermen.Dick examined the segments, with a lingering hope that even now old Reuben, who had so often patched and caulked the boat, might be able to repair it. But the destroyers had done their work only too well; he turned away without a word, and gloomily wended his way homeward.As he walked towards the house, he saw a horseman riding down the road towards the village. At a second glance he recognised him as Sir Bevil Portharvan. When he reached home his father told him that Mr. Polwhele had ridden over to Portharvan House very early, and informed Sir Bevil of the night's occurrence. That gentleman had never been on more than speaking terms with Squire Trevanion; it is not easy for a wealthy man to be cordial with one who has gone down in the world and yet retains his pride. Sir Bevil disapproved of the Squire's attitude to his cousin, which seemed to him the outcome of sheer envy. But he was sufficiently loyal to his class to be greatly incensed at the criminal action of which the riding officer told him, and he promised to exert his influence as a magistrate to prevent any further proceedings of the same kind.He rode to the Towers, learnt the particulars from the Squire's lips, and, having coldly expressed his sympathy, went on. As he came to the Dower House it occurred to him to see John Trevanion, whom he had met often of late, and ask him to use his efforts to put down the persecution. Trevanion's attitude was admirably correct. He acknowledged that he was on bad terms with the Squire; deplored the breach, which was not of his making; and promised to let it be known in the village that he disapproved of such violent measures as the people had recently taken. That was as much as he could do. Sir Bevil went away feeling that John Trevanion was an excellent fellow, and regarding his own errand even more in the light of a troublesome duty than he had done before.From the Dower House he went straight to the inn, which was the focus of the village life, and the place from which his views would radiate with every man who left it after drinking his ale, cider, or brandy. Reining up at the door, he called Doubledick forth."Good mornin', yer honour," said the innkeeper, rubbing his hands deferentially as he obeyed the great man's command."Look here, Doubledick," said Sir Bevil bluntly, "I've heard of what went on at the Towers last night. That sort of thing won't do, you know; it must be stopped, and you can tell your customers I say so. Free-trading is all very well, but arson is an ugly word and a hanging matter; and, egad! if any man is caught playing such low tricks, and brought before me, he'll get no mercy, I promise you. Make that clear, will you?""Iss sure, Sir Bevil," replied the innkeeper. "'Twas a cruel deed, the Squire bein' so cast down and all. I'll tell the folks yer very words, sir, that I will.""That's right. I saw Mr. John Trevanion on the way down, and he agreed with me, so there will be an eye on the village nearer than mine.""Oh, if you seed Maister John, Sir Bevil, 'tis as good as seein' the Lord High Constable o' the county, I warrant 'ee. Folks think a deal o' Maister John, they do."A keener observer than Sir Bevil might have detected a spice of irony in Doubledick's remark. But the baronet was satisfied, and after yielding to the innkeeper's invitation to take a glass to help him on his homeward journey, he rode off with the comfortable sense of having done his duty.When Dick went to the Parsonage that afternoon for his usual lesson, he told Mr. Carlyon all that had happened. On the next Sunday the vicar preached an excellent sermon from the text, "Cursed be he that removeth his neighbour's landmark," which the women listened to without understanding, the men going to sleep as usual.The loss of the boat caused something like consternation among the inmates of the Towers. The Squire could not afford to buy a new one; how was the necessary fishing to be carried on? This problem taxed the wits of Dick, who lay awake for two nights pondering and puzzling. Then the thought came to him, why not build a boat? He had never attempted such a ticklish piece of work, but he was pretty handy with tools, and the idea of setting his wits against the machinations of the enemy fixed his resolution.He remembered sorrowfully that with the burnt tool-house had perished his tools and the carpenter's bench at which he had been accustomed to work. But he could borrow the necessary implements from Petherick, the sexton, who did all the repairs required at the church and the Parsonage. There was no lack of timber in the planking of the ruined portion of the Towers. The most formidable obstacle was his absolute ignorance of the art of boat-building, but a means of overcoming that soon suggested itself.The Polkerran fishers obtained their boats from St. Ives, fifteen or sixteen miles away. A tramp of that distance was nothing to a healthy lad, so, early one morning, taking some bread and cheese in a wallet, and telling no one of his intention, Dick set off. It was a raw November day; the road was wet and muddy, and as Dick passed under the trees along the route his face and neck were bespattered by the drippings from their bare boughs. But he made light of such ordinary discomforts of winter; the swinging pace at which he walked set his blood coursing, and by the time he arrived at St. Ives his whole body was in a healthy glow. He entered an inn and moistened his dry fare with a glass of ale, then found his way to the principal boat-builder's yard, and stood looking on as the workmen sawed and planed and hammered. The builder had no secret to guard; his yard was open to any one who cared to visit it. He gave Dick a friendly greeting; the men threw a glance at him, and went on with their work and their gossip as unconcernedly as though he were not there.Having spent several hours thus, strolling through the town to warm himself while the men were at dinner, he set off in the afternoon on his long tramp homeward, going over in his head the details of the operations he had witnessed. Next day he appeared in the yard at the same time. The master-builder himself was absent, and there was a shade of surprise in the men's expression of face as they saw him enter; but, as before, they paid no attention to him, and showed neither interest nor curiosity.On the third day, however, when he again made his appearance, their rustic stolidity was penetrated at last."Mornin' to 'ee, sonny," said the foreman builder, a cheerful-looking veteran of sixty; "you be as regular as church-clock, to be sure."Dick smiled and returned the man's greeting."You will know a boat from keel to gunwale," continued the foreman."That's what I've come for," said Dick."Well, now, think o' that!""Didn't I tell 'ee so, gaffer?" remarked one of the men."True, you did, and a clever seein' eye you have got, Ben.""AndIsaid 'a was not a common poor man," said another. "That's whatIsaid, bean't it, Ben?""Iss, fay, they was yer very words.""Well, sir," said the foreman, "seein' that these clever fellers have seed so far into ye, maybe you'll tell what's your hidden purpose in lookin' at we.""I'm learning how to build a boat," replied Dick."Good now! You never thought o' that, Ben, clever as ye be, I warrant 'ee. Well, sonny—sir, I mean—I've been nigh fifty year larnin' to build a boat, and I bean't done larnin' yet.""That's bad news, because I want to build one in a week or two.""Well, I won't say but you can make some sort of a tub in the time, but 'twill be a wambly figure o' fun, and be very useful for givin' ye a sea-bath. Ha! ha!""There's no harm in trying, though," said Dick, good-humouredly. "Perhaps if you'd let me try my hand I might pick up a notion or two.""I don't mind if I do. Just set they thwarts in the splines; that's a little small job, and we'll see how 'ee do set about it."Dick stripped off his coat, rolled up his sleeves, and proceeded to perform the task given him, the foreman watching him critically the while."Not so bad," he said when the job was finished. "I won't say but Maister will cuss when he do see it, but 'tis not so bad for a young feller; what do 'ee say, my sonnies?"The men left their work and inspected Dick's, twisting their necks, pressing their lips together, and showing other marks of solemn consideration. They pronounced the work pretty good, and declared they wouldn't have believed it.The foreman gave Dick other little jobs to do, and being more pleased with the lad's handiness than he had admitted, he took pains to instruct him. Dick learnt about ribs and splines; how to steam the ribs and give the necessary "flare"; the difficulty of getting the planking to "fly" to a true curve without "shramming"; and many other technical details which dashed his hope of being able to build a boat in a week."Don't 'ee go and set up for a boat-builder, though," said the foreman pleasantly. "Maister will werrit if he do think the bread 'll be took out of his mouth.""No fear of that," replied Dick laughing. "I only want to build a boat for myself, to replace an old one I lost.""Well, I will say 'tis a right good notion to build one yerself instead o' buyin' one, though 'twouldn't do for we if everybody was so handy."Dick's journeys to and fro between Polkerran and St. Ives extended over ten days. His absences greatly puzzled Sam, but Dick gave no explanation until he felt that he had learned enough to make a start, and decided to visit the boat-builder's no more. He was not so foolish as to suppose that he had mastered the trade, but believed he knew enough to enable him to construct a boat that would serve his simple purpose. Then one morning he set Sam to collect a number of sound planks from the floors and wainscoting in the unused rooms at the Towers, and having borrowed from Petherick the tools necessary to supplement those that Reuben had, he began his task.Day by day for a fortnight the lads worked steadily, using the dilapidated stables for their workshop. Occasionally the Squire and Reuben stood by and criticised; old Penwarden, too, looked in and offered a more or less impracticable suggestion. Once when Dick was at a loss how to proceed, he trudged to St. Ives to consult the foreman."What, Maister, has she sunk a'ready?" said the man with twinkling eyes, as Dick entered.He obtained the information he desired, and within a few days afterwards the boat was finished. Nobody at the Towers, except her makers, believed that she would float. How to get her down to the water was at first a baffling problem. She was too heavy and cumbersome to be carried down the cliff-path by the boys, and they would not seek assistance from the villagers. It was Mr. Carlyon that solved the difficulty. He suggested that the boat should be conveyed on a farmer's wagon to a dell about four miles northward, where a stream flowed into the sea. This was done early one morning, the farmer, a friend of the Vicar's, being bound to secrecy. They launched the boat on the stream, and Sam gave a whoop of delight on seeing that she rode fairly upright. With a couple of spare sculls from their nook on the Beal, they pulled her out to sea, and Dick was pardonably proud of his handiwork when she proved quite seaworthy, if somewhat lumbering."She's not very pretty, but she's strong," he said to Sam, "and that is all we need trouble about."During the weeks in which Dick had been thus occupied, no further annoyance was suffered from the villagers. Sir Bevil's warning had apparently taken effect. Penwarden reported that two more serious checks had been given to the smugglers. Once they had been interrupted in the act of running a cargo at Lunnan Cove, some miles to the south, and a hundred tubs had been seized by Mr. Mildmay. A few days later, the cutter had gone in chase of a lugger in a stiff gale, and the seamanship of the smugglers being at least equal to that of the King's men, the quarry had escaped. But her crew, not daring to run the cargo while the revenue officers were on the alert, had sunk the tubs, which were always carried ready slung to meet such an emergency, in five fathoms of water beyond St. Cuby's Cove. In their hurry, however, the work was not done so carefully as usual, with the result that one of the tubs was chafed off the sinking rope, drifted about, and next morning was descried by Penwarden from the cliff. He informed Mr. Mildmay. The shallow water along the shore was systematically searched, and the whole cargo was hooked up by means of "creeps," as the grapnels were called. Rumour, reaching the Towers by way of the Parsonage, said that on both these occasions Tonkin was the freighter, so that his loss by the successive failures was probably not far short of £300.Tidings came, also, by the local carrier, of renewed activity on the part of theAimable Vertuin the Channel. A revenue cruiser had fought an action with her off the Lizard, and was worsted, her commander being wounded, and the vessel only escaping by running in shore to shallow water, where the privateer could not follow. The authorities, already deeply incensed by the escape of Delarousse from Plymouth, were furious at this recurrence of his depredations, and had offered a high price for information of his movements, and a still higher reward to any officer who should capture him.For a few days Dick laid up his new boat, when fishing was done, in the mouth of the little stream on which he had launched it, tramping back with Sam over the four miles to the Towers. But this became irksome, and he tried to think of some means of keeping the craft nearer home without running the risk of its destruction by the smugglers. After a good deal of anxious consideration he hit upon the idea of building a shed for it on the beach at the foot of the cliff."Jown me if I see the good o' 't," said Sam, when Dick explained his plan. "They'll break into the shed, or fire it, if they want to, and we'll lose our boat and our labour too.""But I've thought of a way of preventing that, Sam. They won't interfere with it in daylight: 'tis only the night we need fear. Well, we'll make 'em give us warning of any trick they play.""I don't see how, unless they be born fools.""They're not fools: far from it: but they might be a trifle sharper in the wits, perhaps. If it comes to scheming, I think we can beat 'em, Sam. We'll build the shed close under the house. Now listen. We'll make the door to open outwards, and tie a strand of sewing thread to the bottom, running it through hooks along the wall and out at the back of the shed. There we'll tie it to a fishing-line, and round a pulley up to the cliff-top, taking care to keep it off the rock by making it run through notches in sticks of wood. At the top we'll have another pulley, and at the foot of the house wall another, and so carry it into my bedroom. There we'll fasten it to a weight—a poker will do; which we'll sling up beside the window. We'll put a tea-tray underneath it, d' you see? so that if the shed door is pulled open the thread will break, the poker will fall, and make such a clatter that we are bound to hear it all over the house."Sam broke into laughter."Ha! ha! it do mind me of the old 'ooman and little crooked sixpence," he cried. "Do 'ee mind, Maister Dick? 'Cat began to kill the rat, rat began to gnaw the rope,' and so on till th' old 'ooman got home at last. My life, 'tis a noble notion! What a headpiece you have got, to be sure! But, scrounch it all, won't they see the line?""I don't think so. 'Tis so much the colour of the rock that it will escape notice.""True. But s'pose we do hear a clatter-bang. That won't stop 'em from hauling out the boat, and we couldn' get down the cliff in time to save her.""I'd thought of that. We'll fix up a booby-trap over the door.""Never heerd o't. What be a booby-trap?""'Tis a thing that Mr. Carlyon told me of, a trick he used to play when he was a young fellow at college. You fix above the doorway something that will tumble down when the door is opened, and come plump on the head of any one entering. That will stagger them, and while they are recovering their wits we shall have time to run down. You may be sure they'll run away before we get to them, for if we recognize them they'll have Sir Bevil to reckon with.""Ha! ha!" laughed Sam. "That 'ud be a funny sight to see. We'll do it, Maister Dick, and 'tis my wish I bean't too sleepy to tumble up when they tries their tricks."It was a full day's work, from daybreak to long past sunset, to erect the shed from materials carefully prepared beforehand. Dick felt the necessity of completing the apparatus before another day dawned, lest their proceedings should be spied from a passing boat and reported in the village before they were ready. He obtained permission from his father to remain out, telling him frankly what his purpose was, but without giving details, and toiled on, by the light of a screened lantern, until the whole contrivance wis finished. The booby-trap consisted of a pail nicely balanced on a bar running across the shed, and filled with water deeply coloured with indigo. It was connected by a thread with a loose board in the floor beneath, so that a trespasser stepping across the threshold would snap the thread, cause the pail to turn on its axis, and receive its contents on his head."The parson used flour, he told me," said Dick, "but 'tis too good to waste on those rascals.""Ay, and a dousin' will make 'em cuss more," said Sam. "Oh, 'twill grieve me tarrible if I be asleep!"Three days passed. Apparently the shed had not been discovered by the villagers. The boys tested their invention and found it successful. They took the boat out each morning, and restored it to its place when the day's fishing was done, fastening the door from the inside, connecting it with the booby-trap, and leaving the shed by a small door, just large enough to crawl through, at the back.On the third evening Mr. Carlyon came to the Towers to join the Trevanions in a game of whist, as he did frequently during the winter months. It was a still, clear night, with a touch of frost in the air; but the cold did not penetrate to the Squire's room, where a blazing wood fire threw a rosy radiance on the panelled walls, and woke smiling reflections in the glasses and decanters that stood on a table near that at which the party of four were absorbed in their game. The house was quiet; Reuben and Sam had retired to rest, for the Vicar would need no attendance when he mounted his cob to ride home.The Squire was in the act of shuffling the pack, when suddenly the silence of the house was shattered by a tremendous crash in one of the rooms above. Mrs. Trevanion pressed her hand to her side; the Squire missed his cast, and let the cards fall to the floor; Mr. Carlyon put down the glass which he had just raised to his lips, so hastily that the fluid spilled on the baize. Dick sprang up."'Tis the alarm!" he cried. "They are at my shed!"He dashed out of the room, to meet Sam in shirt and breeches tumbling down the stairs. Dick seized a cutlass hanging on the wall, Sam the parson's riding-whip, and throwing open the door they sallied out into the night."It dinged me out of a lovely dream," said Sam. "Dash my buttons, 'twas a noble noise."They scampered along the cliff to the zigzag path. Meanwhile the Squire hurriedly explained the matter to the astonished Vicar."Bless my life, I must go too," cried Mr. Carlyon. "The impudence of the scoundrels! Is this the result of Sir Bevil's intervention? Come along, Squire; bring your pistols. Man of peace as I am, I will give you absolution if you wing one of those fellows!"The two hastened forth less than a minute after the boys. Both were active men, in spite of their years, and they scrambled down the path with no more stumbles than were excusable in elderly gentlemen a little short in the wind. Before they got to the bottom they saw a boat just pulling off from the shore, and the boys knee-deep in water, trying to give a parting salutation with their weapons to the disturbers of the peace. Sam had the satisfaction of hearing a bellow from the man in the stern of the boat as the whip-thong slashed his face; but Dick's cutlass was not long enough for effective use, and in a few seconds the marauders were out of reach.The four met on the beach and hastened up towards the shed. To their surprise the door was only half open."They must have heard the noise," said Dick. "My window is open. I daresay they waited to see what it meant, and then heard us coming down, for when we got to the foot of the path they were beginning to shove the boat off.""The neatest contrivance I ever heard of. I congratulate you on your ingenuity," said the Vicar heartily. "But we may as well see that the villains have done no mischief."As he spoke he pulled the door fully open, and before Dick could check him, set his foot on the threshold. Instantly there was a splash; the worthy man gasped and spluttered, and came out with a spring, shaking his head like a dog emerging from a bath."God bless my soul!" cried the Squire, looking with amazement at the dark shower pouring from his friend on to the sand. "What on earth is this?""Ho! ho!" laughed Sam, prancing with delight, his veneration for the Church quite eclipsed by his joy at a fellow mortal's misadventure. "I ha' seed it arter all. Ho! ho!"Dick, overwhelmed with dismay, shook Sam by the arm and bade him be silent. What excuse, what reparation could he make to the venerable gentleman who had suffered so untoward an accident?"I didn't think—I tried to—I'm dreadfully sorry, sir," he stammered."Ha! ha!" came the parson's rolling laugh. "'Pon my life, he's an apt pupil, Squire. The young dog! Ha! ha!""Explain this—this—" began the Squire angrily."This booby-trap, Squire," cried Mr. Carlyon. "'Tis I am the booby. I taught Dick, in a reckless burst of confidence, how we young rantipoles at Oxford used to deal with each other—and our tutors too, I'm bound to say. I wish I hadn't. But, you young rascal, I told you that we used flour: what is this horrible stuff?""Only a solution of indigo, sir; it won't do you any harm," replied poor Dick."Won't do me any harm? Only make me black and blue, eh? Ha! ha! I'm glad 'tis no worse. But 'tis a thousand pities those ruffians escaped the shower. Well, well, the rain falls on the just and the unjust, we're told, and——bless me, Squire, it takes me back forty years, when we had rigged up a trap for a freshman, and it toppled on the reverend head of the dean himself. Ha! ha!""Ha! ha!" laughed the Squire, his vexation giving way to his sense of humour."Ho! ho!" roared Sam. "Drown me if it bean't the——""Shut up!" growled Dick. "Why must you laugh at the Vicar in that idiotic way?""'Cos he laughs at hisself," said Sam, highly aggrieved. "I wouldn' laugh at him with his nightgown on in church, not I; but when he be just like a simple common man, daze me if I can keep it in."The two elders were now climbing the path. Dick stayed to retie the thread, though he did not expect that the marauders, after the alarm they had had, would make a second attempt that night. Having closed the door, he accompanied Sam up the cliff, greatly relieved when he heard, far above, the Vicar's hearty laugh, as he related to the Squire sundry other pranks and escapades of his younger days.CHAPTER THE TWELFTHPenwarden DisappearsAs Dick hoped, the scare given to the enemy by his prompt sally from the Towers proved effectual; no further attempt was made to interfere with the boat. Rumours of the contrivance for giving an alarm spread among the villagers, and Mr. Carlyon, without revealing his own misadventure, took care to explain to Petherick, sexton, beadle, and constable, that the intruders would have suffered material damage if they had had the courage to enter the shed. Petherick duly reported this, as the parson intended, adding on his own account that the young monkeys had invented an instrument of torture for all who dared to molest them. The parson's housekeeper discussed with Petherick a strange stain upon her master's stock, and Petherick himself, despatched one day to the Truro perruquier with a parcel carefully tied, was amazed when the tradesman, opening it in his presence, revealed a wig, not iron grey, but mottled blue in colour. These matters were a topic of conversation in Polkerran for many a day, and there were some who offered explanations, and some who shook their heads and looked profoundly wise, but discreetly held their tongues. The truth was never known outside the Towers, Dick threatening Sam with excommunication if he breathed a word of it.One Wednesday, early in December, the boys set out a little before dawn to fish. The air was cold and misty; trickles of condensed moisture ran down their faces and necks, and little pools formed on the rims of their hats. The exercise of rowing warmed them, and the discomfort, always less to their seasoned skins than it would have been to a townsman and a landlubber, was forgotten altogether when the fish rose freely to their bait. They made a good catch after two hours' work, and turned to row back in order to carry the fish home in time for early breakfast.They had come nearly a mile from shore, and were pulling hard, the wind blowing off the land against them, when all at once, some distance astern, there loomed out of the mist a three-masted vessel of considerable size."Look, Sam," said Dick, "isn't that the same craft we saw following the smack that night?""'Tis so," replied Sam; "the night Maister John come home-along. I said he landed from the smack, you mind; you said 'a didn't; and I don't care who the man is, but I know I be right.""Pull away, Sam. We don't want to be seen. It may be the French privateer we've heard about, and we ought to tell Mr. Mildmay or Penwarden.""True, and there's money if she's catched. Would they gie us a bit o't, think 'ee?""I daresay. There! She has vanished into the mist again. Do you know if the cutter is in the harbour, Sam?""She warn't yesterday. Maister Mildmay is busy down coast. I'd liever old Joe got the money than he."They saw no more of the vessel, even from the top of the cliff. Mr. Trevanion was interested in their news, and agreed that it should certainly be imparted to Penwarden or Mr. Polwhele, Mr. Mildmay being absent.Dick remembered that the old exciseman had probably been up all night. He sympathised with him in his arduous duty of watching all through the long hours of darkness, in fair or foul weather, frost or rain. At dawn of day Penwarden was accustomed to take a "watch below," as he called it, until noon, priding himself on requiring no more than four or five hours' sleep. At noon an old woman from the village came to get his dinner and tidy up, leaving when her work was done, his other meals being prepared by himself. Dick decided not to awaken Penwarden until he had had his sleep out, but to seek Mr. Polwhele, whose house stood on the cliff half-a-mile on the further side of the village. Dick went there by a roundabout way, to avoid meeting the fisher-people and their sour looks. The riding-officer was much surprised at the news he brought."'Tis a risky thing on the part of Delarousse, if 'tis indeed he," said Mr. Polwhele; "and why he should come here I can't tell, for Polkerran is not worth powder and shot.""Maybe to arrange for running a cargo," said Dick."I don't think that, for 'tis whispered that the folks here do not deal with him any longer. I can't think 'tis he, but I will run up my signal to warn Mr. Mildmay, if he can see it through the mist. Thank 'ee for the news. Perhaps you will tell Penwarden, and ask him to keep an eye lifting."Dick promised to do so, and returned home.Shortly before twelve, the time when Penwarden was usually moving about again, Dick walked up to the cottage to inform him of the strange vessel. He knocked at the door, but there was no answer. Thinking that the old man was lying later than usual after a tiring night's duty, Dick felt loth to rouse him, and resolved to wait a while, walking up and down before the cottage, beating himself for warmth's sake. Now and then he stopped to listen at the door, but there was no sound from within, nor indeed without, except the booming of the surf, the whistle of the wind impinging on the cliff edge, and the screams of gulls which had not yet flown inland to seek their winter sustenance in the neighbourhood of farms. The mist cleared off, and not a sign of the vessel was to be seen on the horizon."Old Gammer Oliver is late, too," thought Dick. "Perhaps Joe told her not to come at her usual time."He took a book from his pocket, and read it, still walking up and down. But he soon tired of this; the hour for the midday meal at the Towers was drawing on; and he would have returned but for his promise to Mr. Polwhele."I ought to have hammered hard on the door at once," he said to himself. "Tired as he must be, he would not mind being disturbed in this case."He shut up his book, slipped it into his pocket, and strode briskly towards the cottage, about thirty paces distant. No smoke was rising from the chimney; nothing was audible but the wind rustling the leaves of a laurel bush, and causing the bare tendrils of last year's creeper to scratch against the wall. The sudden scream of a gull wheeling its flight above the roof made Dick start and look round uneasily. There was nothing living, on four feet or on two, in sight.He came to the door, and, hesitating no longer, rapped smartly upon it. Neither voice nor movement answered him. Again he knocked, with greater energy, calling the old man by name. The perfect silence when his knuckles ceased their tattoo alarmed him. Joe always locked the door when he left the cottage by day, and locked and bolted it when he retired at night. Still, it was a natural act to turn the handle, and Dick, when he did so, almost laughed, for the door opened, revealing the dark little passage, on one side of which was the bedroom, on the other the kitchen and sitting-room in one. Of course, the old fellow had gone out.But as Dick stood on the threshold and his eyes became accustomed to the dimness within, this comforting reflection gave way to surprise and apprehension. Half-way down the passage Penwarden's hat lay on the floor. Near it was a bundle of bulrushes which he had brought back from a voyage in his sea-going days; it usually stood against the wall beneath a portrait of Rodney. Beyond, the glass of a case enclosing a stuffed John-Dory was broken to splinters, which glinted from the stone floor. The passage presented a strange contrast to its usual neat and tidy appearance."Joe!" Dick called.His voice reverberated; there was no other sound. He entered the passage and opened the door of the kitchen. It was empty; nothing was in disorder; a kettle stood on the hob; on the table lay a mug, a knife, and a plate holding a few crumbs of bread, witnesses to the old man's supper. Dick turned about, crossed the passage, and halted for a moment at the bedroom door, seized by the shaking thought that Joe had been taken ill in the night—was perhaps dead. He called, rapped, and, with quivering nerves, entered. The blind was down, so that he could scarcely see; but there was the bed, empty, the bedclothes disturbed. He pulled up the blind. The cold light of the winter sky flooded the room, and he saw things that filled him with alarm. A chair was overturned; fragments of a pipe and a tinder-box lay beside the bed; a thin hair rug was creased into the shape of billows; on one of the white deals was a dark red stain. The appearance of both room and passage pointed to a struggle. The stain was the fresh mark of blood.What had become of the old man? Dick felt the answer to his unspoken question. Excisemen had many enemies; sometimes they lost their lives, not merely in open fight with the smugglers, but by insidious attack. Mr. Mildmay had told of ambushes, midnight assaults, torture, brutal murders. Such incidents were almost unknown in the west country; the fair fame of Cornishmen had not been sullied as that of the men of Kent and Sussex had been. But what more likely than that the bitter ill-feeling rife in the village, which had lately vented itself against the inmates of the Towers, should now have sought a new victim in Penwarden? If the smugglers were prepared to go such lengths against the Trevanions, towards whom their hereditary loyalty had for generations been akin to the Scottish clansman's devotion to his chief, they would scarcely be disposed to spare a humble old seaman, to whom they attributed the heavy losses they had recently suffered.These thoughts ran through Dick's mind in a moment. That Penwarden had suffered violent handling he could not doubt. He must at once report the disappearance. He hurried from the room, closing the door, and in the passage met Gammer Oliver, as she was called, the old woman who came daily from the village."Oh, Maister Trevanion!" she exclaimed, "you did give me a turn.""Mr. Penwarden is not here; something has happened to him. You don't know anything about him?""Do 'ee say it? Lawk-a-deary, and me so late and all! My darter was took bad this morning, or——""Do you know anything about him?" repeated Dick."Not a mossel, sir. I hain't seed the gaffer since I gied un his dinner yesterday. Save us all! What a moil and muddle things be in!""Yes, I don't know what has happened. Tidy up, and bring the door-key to the Towers. I am going now."He hastened home, and told the Squire what he had discovered, and what his suspicions were. Mr. Trevanion, often supine and sluggish in matters concerning himself, was energetic enough when he heard of wrong or injustice suffered by others."This is scandalous!" he exclaimed. "Do you go at once and find Mr. Polwhele, Dick. I will hurry to the parson. Stay, I'll give Sam a note for Sir Bevil; we must raise a hue and cry after the old man. Where is Mildmay, I wonder?""Mr. Polwhele was going to signal to him, sir," said Dick."That's right. He must watch the coast. I've heard of the wretches shipping off to France preventive men who make themselves troublesome. 'Tis ten to one they will serve Penwarden so; that vessel you saw may have come for that purpose."Within a few minutes the three active members of the household had gone their several ways. Dick hastened for the second time to see the riding-officer. As he went he came to a resolution. The smugglers, it was clear, were determined on pursuing their policy of persecution. All who opposed them, or whom they supposed to be their opponents, would have to reckon with their remorseless animosity, which might express itself in open violence or deeds of stealth as necessity demanded. It was to be war, and, as events were shaping themselves, war between the village and the Towers. Well, the war should be fought out. The quarrel had been forced on the Trevanions; they had not willingly departed from their neutrality; but matters had now gone so far that to remain neutral was impossible, and Dick resolved to take once for all the side of the law. He anticipated some difficulty in bringing his father to adopt the same attitude; but at the present moment the Squire was so indignant with the smugglers that, even if he was not ready to throw himself into active opposition to them, he might not forbid Dick to do so. Feeling that at such a crisis all quiet work at his books was impossible, Dick determined to beg Mr. Carlyon to release him, and to devote himself heart and soul to the contest, whether of wits or weapons. The first object must be the rescue of Joe Penwarden.Mr. Polwhele was still at home."This is a new thing, 'pon my life," he said, when Dick had told him his tidings. "Till now the villains have been only on the defensive; to take the offensive means there's a new spirit working in 'em. D'you think, now, that your father is right, and John Trevanion is the man behind?""I don't want to say what I think, Mr. Polwhele," replied Dick. "Whether he is or not, we must put a stop to it. I can't do much, but what I can do I will.""I'm glad to hear it. The curious thing is that John Trevanion has but lately been here. One of the fishers had told him of the strange vessel, and he came for the same purpose as you, to ask me to signal to Mr. Mildmay. He said it was scandalous that the Frenchman should be allowed to cruise at large.""Do you think she came to ship Penwarden away, sir? That is my father's idea.""'Tis a notion, now, but not likely, unless John Trevanion came here to throw me off the scent. You saw no small boat pulling to the ship, did you?""No, sir.""Then I think the Squire is wrong. Now, seemingly, Mr. Mildmay has not seen my signal, but he must be somewhere off the coast. As soon as 'tis dark I will show a light with my telescope lantern; that will fetch him; and if you are ready to join hands with us, I will bring him to the Towers and we'll hold a council of war. Will the Squire agree to it?""I don't know. I'll ask him, and if you'll meet me at six o'clock on the bridge yonder, I will tell you what he says."When the Squire returned from his visit to the Parsonage, Dick opened his mind to him. At first Mr. Trevanion shrank from definitely committing himself to the cause of the revenue officers, but when Dick pointed out that his position could scarcely be worse than it was, and that the Trevanion influence might still have some weight with the better-disposed among the village folk, he consented to the riding-officer's proposal."The vicar is coming over this evening," he said. "We shall at any rate have all the wisdom of the parish."At half-past six there met in the Squire's room, Mr. Mildmay, the riding-officer, Mr. Carlyon, and Dick. They drew their chairs to the fire; the elder men lit their churchwarden pipes, and, with glasses of steaming toddy at their elbows, proceeded to discuss the situation."I have a note from Sir Bevil," said the Squire. "He is sending to Truro for assistance. What shape that may take I don't know.""The shape of a constable or two, probably," said Mr. Polwhele, "and if they are no better than Petherick, they won't help us much.""Petherick shall cry the village to-morrow," said the Vicar. "Being a justice as well as parson, I have written out a proclamation, summoning all good and true men to give information that will lead to the discovery of Penwarden, dead or alive.""I don't believe they'd murder him," said Mr. Mildmay, "or they wouldn't take the trouble to spirit him away. A crack on the head would be a much simpler matter.""What do you suppose is their object in kidnapping him?" asked the Vicar."Either to hold him while they run a specially valuable cargo, or to ship him to France and keep him permanently out of their way. A fool's trick; for he's bound to be replaced, though we'd find it hard to get a better man, old as he is.""And foolish in another way," added the riding-officer. "They ought to know that a deed of that kind will only stir up the rest of us. I wouldn't give much for their chances of running a cargo yet awhile.""Nor for shipping him," said Mr. Mildmay. "I'll swear they haven't done it yet. My boats were up and down the coast all last night. One of them spied that rascally privateer putting in towards St. Cuby's Cove in the mist this morning, but she sailed away, and though I gave chase, she got off. To-night we'll have the boats patrolling for miles; I defy 'em to slip through us.""When did they seize him, d'you suppose?" asked the Squire."In the early morning, I think, Father," said Dick, "before it was light. The blood stain was quite fresh. They must have hidden him somewhere; they wouldn't carry him away in the daylight, in case some one saw them.""That wouldn't trouble them, bless you," said Mr. Mildmay. "All Polkerran and most of the folk around are hand-in-glove with them. They could count on the silence of everybody but a few ranters and psalm-singers, who would either be abed and asleep, or going about their business.""I don't agree with you, Mildmay," said the Squire. "They would have to pass this house on the way to the village, and they know very well that Dick and young Sam are early birds; they wouldn't risk meeting them. No; 'twas done in the dark, depend on it.""That might be if they took him to the village, but we don't know that," retorted Mr. Mildmay. "No doubt there are any number of underground cellars and secret passages in the village: 'twas in some such place that fellow Delarousse was hidden while the dragoons were searching the inn, you may be sure. But those are not the only possible hiding-places. What with nooks, caves, and adits in the abandoned mines, we might search for a month of Sundays and not find the poor fellow.""But they won't hold him long, surely," said Dick. "What a trouble it would be to guard him and feed him!""True; they would expect to be able to ship him soon. If they are planning a run, and find we're too watchful for them, I'll be bound they'll let him loose before long, and we'll find him one fine morning back again.""Dick speaks of guarding and feeding," said Mr. Carlyon. "May not that give us a clue? It seems probable, as Mr. Mildmay suggests, that he is not in the village. If he is elsewhere, somebody must leave the village to carry food to him, and a vigilant watch would detect the fellow.""Bless my life, parson," said Mr. Polwhele, "you don't know these rascals. They're as wary as otters and as slippery as eels. I'll warrant they'd slip us in broad daylight, and as to the darkness of night, why, a regiment of soldiers wouldn't be large enough to net 'em.""Well, to be practical," said the Squire. "You, Vicar, as a justice, can give Mr. Polwhele a warrant of search. You may unearth him in the village, and I should begin with the inn; Doubledick's name suits him. With the coast closely watched by Mr. Mildmay's men, the kidnappers cannot ship him. Sir Bevil will raise the hue and cry in the neighbourhood inland, and 'tis such a serious matter that I doubt whether any of the yeomen would connive at it. The name ofhabeas corpuswould scare them out of their wits. I'm inclined to think with Mr. Mildmay that the rascals will let him loose in a day or two when they see what a stir they have made; but of course we must not rely on that, but do our best to ferret him out.""Very well summed up, Squire," said the Vicar. "We cannot do more to-night; and, as 'tis not late, perhaps you and these gentlemen would favour me with a rubber. Polwhele trumped my trick last time," he added, under his breath."With all my heart," cried the Squire. "Dick, bring the cards, and ask Reuben to fry some pilchards. All work and no play, Mr. Mildmay, you know——"The gentlemen were nothing loth to spend an hour or two in this way. They had supper at eight; the officers then left to attend to their nocturnal duties; and as Mr. Carlyon remained to play piquet with the Squire, Dick went to bed early, resolving to take some independent steps in the morning.
CHAPTER THE ELEVENTH
Sir Bevil Intervenes
Soon after breakfast next morning Dick and Sam went down to the shore to launch their boat for a day's fishing. The post to which it was moored being close under the cliffs, they did not come in sight of it until they reached the foot of the winding path. Then Sam, who was walking ahead, uttered a cry.
"What is it?" asked Dick, hurrying on.
"Scrounch it all, look 'ee, Maister Dick!"
The boat lay on the white sand, but it was a navigable vessel no longer. It had been sawn across in three places. The old craft, which had withstood for forty years the battering of innumerable waves and the more insidious attacks of time, and in which three generations of Trevanions had sailed upon the deep, would be launched no more. It would henceforth serve no useful end except as firewood.
Dick felt first a pang of grief, then a surge of bitter rage. His enemies could not have chosen a more galling or vindictive means of wreaking their ill-will. They had dealt with the boat as the smugglers' craft were dealt with when captured by the revenue officers. Dick saw in their act a subtle indication of the thoroughness with which they identified him with the Government men. It said: "You have joined the revenue officers; very well, we treat you as they treat us." He had no doubt that the destruction of the boat and the firing of the tool-house were parts of one scheme.
"The cowards!" he exclaimed, "to do behind our backs what they durst not do to our face."
"'Tis a miserable, dirty deed," agreed Sam. "We must tell of it to the high powers."
"Much good that will be!" cried Dick bitterly. "We can't tell who did it; Sir Bevil will only instruct Petherick, and he is too much of a fool ever to find out, if he wanted to, which is unlikely. We can do nothing, Sam."
"How can we go fishing now?" said Sam gloomily. "'Tis takin' the bread out of our mouth, that's what it is. They mean us to starve, the wretches."
The loss of the boat was indeed a serious blow to the family at the Towers. The principal source of their food supply was cut off. In the present state of war between them and the villagers it would be impossible to borrow a boat, and the only place from which the boys could now fish the sea was the head of the jetty, where they would come into awkward contact with the hostile fishermen.
Dick examined the segments, with a lingering hope that even now old Reuben, who had so often patched and caulked the boat, might be able to repair it. But the destroyers had done their work only too well; he turned away without a word, and gloomily wended his way homeward.
As he walked towards the house, he saw a horseman riding down the road towards the village. At a second glance he recognised him as Sir Bevil Portharvan. When he reached home his father told him that Mr. Polwhele had ridden over to Portharvan House very early, and informed Sir Bevil of the night's occurrence. That gentleman had never been on more than speaking terms with Squire Trevanion; it is not easy for a wealthy man to be cordial with one who has gone down in the world and yet retains his pride. Sir Bevil disapproved of the Squire's attitude to his cousin, which seemed to him the outcome of sheer envy. But he was sufficiently loyal to his class to be greatly incensed at the criminal action of which the riding officer told him, and he promised to exert his influence as a magistrate to prevent any further proceedings of the same kind.
He rode to the Towers, learnt the particulars from the Squire's lips, and, having coldly expressed his sympathy, went on. As he came to the Dower House it occurred to him to see John Trevanion, whom he had met often of late, and ask him to use his efforts to put down the persecution. Trevanion's attitude was admirably correct. He acknowledged that he was on bad terms with the Squire; deplored the breach, which was not of his making; and promised to let it be known in the village that he disapproved of such violent measures as the people had recently taken. That was as much as he could do. Sir Bevil went away feeling that John Trevanion was an excellent fellow, and regarding his own errand even more in the light of a troublesome duty than he had done before.
From the Dower House he went straight to the inn, which was the focus of the village life, and the place from which his views would radiate with every man who left it after drinking his ale, cider, or brandy. Reining up at the door, he called Doubledick forth.
"Good mornin', yer honour," said the innkeeper, rubbing his hands deferentially as he obeyed the great man's command.
"Look here, Doubledick," said Sir Bevil bluntly, "I've heard of what went on at the Towers last night. That sort of thing won't do, you know; it must be stopped, and you can tell your customers I say so. Free-trading is all very well, but arson is an ugly word and a hanging matter; and, egad! if any man is caught playing such low tricks, and brought before me, he'll get no mercy, I promise you. Make that clear, will you?"
"Iss sure, Sir Bevil," replied the innkeeper. "'Twas a cruel deed, the Squire bein' so cast down and all. I'll tell the folks yer very words, sir, that I will."
"That's right. I saw Mr. John Trevanion on the way down, and he agreed with me, so there will be an eye on the village nearer than mine."
"Oh, if you seed Maister John, Sir Bevil, 'tis as good as seein' the Lord High Constable o' the county, I warrant 'ee. Folks think a deal o' Maister John, they do."
A keener observer than Sir Bevil might have detected a spice of irony in Doubledick's remark. But the baronet was satisfied, and after yielding to the innkeeper's invitation to take a glass to help him on his homeward journey, he rode off with the comfortable sense of having done his duty.
When Dick went to the Parsonage that afternoon for his usual lesson, he told Mr. Carlyon all that had happened. On the next Sunday the vicar preached an excellent sermon from the text, "Cursed be he that removeth his neighbour's landmark," which the women listened to without understanding, the men going to sleep as usual.
The loss of the boat caused something like consternation among the inmates of the Towers. The Squire could not afford to buy a new one; how was the necessary fishing to be carried on? This problem taxed the wits of Dick, who lay awake for two nights pondering and puzzling. Then the thought came to him, why not build a boat? He had never attempted such a ticklish piece of work, but he was pretty handy with tools, and the idea of setting his wits against the machinations of the enemy fixed his resolution.
He remembered sorrowfully that with the burnt tool-house had perished his tools and the carpenter's bench at which he had been accustomed to work. But he could borrow the necessary implements from Petherick, the sexton, who did all the repairs required at the church and the Parsonage. There was no lack of timber in the planking of the ruined portion of the Towers. The most formidable obstacle was his absolute ignorance of the art of boat-building, but a means of overcoming that soon suggested itself.
The Polkerran fishers obtained their boats from St. Ives, fifteen or sixteen miles away. A tramp of that distance was nothing to a healthy lad, so, early one morning, taking some bread and cheese in a wallet, and telling no one of his intention, Dick set off. It was a raw November day; the road was wet and muddy, and as Dick passed under the trees along the route his face and neck were bespattered by the drippings from their bare boughs. But he made light of such ordinary discomforts of winter; the swinging pace at which he walked set his blood coursing, and by the time he arrived at St. Ives his whole body was in a healthy glow. He entered an inn and moistened his dry fare with a glass of ale, then found his way to the principal boat-builder's yard, and stood looking on as the workmen sawed and planed and hammered. The builder had no secret to guard; his yard was open to any one who cared to visit it. He gave Dick a friendly greeting; the men threw a glance at him, and went on with their work and their gossip as unconcernedly as though he were not there.
Having spent several hours thus, strolling through the town to warm himself while the men were at dinner, he set off in the afternoon on his long tramp homeward, going over in his head the details of the operations he had witnessed. Next day he appeared in the yard at the same time. The master-builder himself was absent, and there was a shade of surprise in the men's expression of face as they saw him enter; but, as before, they paid no attention to him, and showed neither interest nor curiosity.
On the third day, however, when he again made his appearance, their rustic stolidity was penetrated at last.
"Mornin' to 'ee, sonny," said the foreman builder, a cheerful-looking veteran of sixty; "you be as regular as church-clock, to be sure."
Dick smiled and returned the man's greeting.
"You will know a boat from keel to gunwale," continued the foreman.
"That's what I've come for," said Dick.
"Well, now, think o' that!"
"Didn't I tell 'ee so, gaffer?" remarked one of the men.
"True, you did, and a clever seein' eye you have got, Ben."
"AndIsaid 'a was not a common poor man," said another. "That's whatIsaid, bean't it, Ben?"
"Iss, fay, they was yer very words."
"Well, sir," said the foreman, "seein' that these clever fellers have seed so far into ye, maybe you'll tell what's your hidden purpose in lookin' at we."
"I'm learning how to build a boat," replied Dick.
"Good now! You never thought o' that, Ben, clever as ye be, I warrant 'ee. Well, sonny—sir, I mean—I've been nigh fifty year larnin' to build a boat, and I bean't done larnin' yet."
"That's bad news, because I want to build one in a week or two."
"Well, I won't say but you can make some sort of a tub in the time, but 'twill be a wambly figure o' fun, and be very useful for givin' ye a sea-bath. Ha! ha!"
"There's no harm in trying, though," said Dick, good-humouredly. "Perhaps if you'd let me try my hand I might pick up a notion or two."
"I don't mind if I do. Just set they thwarts in the splines; that's a little small job, and we'll see how 'ee do set about it."
Dick stripped off his coat, rolled up his sleeves, and proceeded to perform the task given him, the foreman watching him critically the while.
"Not so bad," he said when the job was finished. "I won't say but Maister will cuss when he do see it, but 'tis not so bad for a young feller; what do 'ee say, my sonnies?"
The men left their work and inspected Dick's, twisting their necks, pressing their lips together, and showing other marks of solemn consideration. They pronounced the work pretty good, and declared they wouldn't have believed it.
The foreman gave Dick other little jobs to do, and being more pleased with the lad's handiness than he had admitted, he took pains to instruct him. Dick learnt about ribs and splines; how to steam the ribs and give the necessary "flare"; the difficulty of getting the planking to "fly" to a true curve without "shramming"; and many other technical details which dashed his hope of being able to build a boat in a week.
"Don't 'ee go and set up for a boat-builder, though," said the foreman pleasantly. "Maister will werrit if he do think the bread 'll be took out of his mouth."
"No fear of that," replied Dick laughing. "I only want to build a boat for myself, to replace an old one I lost."
"Well, I will say 'tis a right good notion to build one yerself instead o' buyin' one, though 'twouldn't do for we if everybody was so handy."
Dick's journeys to and fro between Polkerran and St. Ives extended over ten days. His absences greatly puzzled Sam, but Dick gave no explanation until he felt that he had learned enough to make a start, and decided to visit the boat-builder's no more. He was not so foolish as to suppose that he had mastered the trade, but believed he knew enough to enable him to construct a boat that would serve his simple purpose. Then one morning he set Sam to collect a number of sound planks from the floors and wainscoting in the unused rooms at the Towers, and having borrowed from Petherick the tools necessary to supplement those that Reuben had, he began his task.
Day by day for a fortnight the lads worked steadily, using the dilapidated stables for their workshop. Occasionally the Squire and Reuben stood by and criticised; old Penwarden, too, looked in and offered a more or less impracticable suggestion. Once when Dick was at a loss how to proceed, he trudged to St. Ives to consult the foreman.
"What, Maister, has she sunk a'ready?" said the man with twinkling eyes, as Dick entered.
He obtained the information he desired, and within a few days afterwards the boat was finished. Nobody at the Towers, except her makers, believed that she would float. How to get her down to the water was at first a baffling problem. She was too heavy and cumbersome to be carried down the cliff-path by the boys, and they would not seek assistance from the villagers. It was Mr. Carlyon that solved the difficulty. He suggested that the boat should be conveyed on a farmer's wagon to a dell about four miles northward, where a stream flowed into the sea. This was done early one morning, the farmer, a friend of the Vicar's, being bound to secrecy. They launched the boat on the stream, and Sam gave a whoop of delight on seeing that she rode fairly upright. With a couple of spare sculls from their nook on the Beal, they pulled her out to sea, and Dick was pardonably proud of his handiwork when she proved quite seaworthy, if somewhat lumbering.
"She's not very pretty, but she's strong," he said to Sam, "and that is all we need trouble about."
During the weeks in which Dick had been thus occupied, no further annoyance was suffered from the villagers. Sir Bevil's warning had apparently taken effect. Penwarden reported that two more serious checks had been given to the smugglers. Once they had been interrupted in the act of running a cargo at Lunnan Cove, some miles to the south, and a hundred tubs had been seized by Mr. Mildmay. A few days later, the cutter had gone in chase of a lugger in a stiff gale, and the seamanship of the smugglers being at least equal to that of the King's men, the quarry had escaped. But her crew, not daring to run the cargo while the revenue officers were on the alert, had sunk the tubs, which were always carried ready slung to meet such an emergency, in five fathoms of water beyond St. Cuby's Cove. In their hurry, however, the work was not done so carefully as usual, with the result that one of the tubs was chafed off the sinking rope, drifted about, and next morning was descried by Penwarden from the cliff. He informed Mr. Mildmay. The shallow water along the shore was systematically searched, and the whole cargo was hooked up by means of "creeps," as the grapnels were called. Rumour, reaching the Towers by way of the Parsonage, said that on both these occasions Tonkin was the freighter, so that his loss by the successive failures was probably not far short of £300.
Tidings came, also, by the local carrier, of renewed activity on the part of theAimable Vertuin the Channel. A revenue cruiser had fought an action with her off the Lizard, and was worsted, her commander being wounded, and the vessel only escaping by running in shore to shallow water, where the privateer could not follow. The authorities, already deeply incensed by the escape of Delarousse from Plymouth, were furious at this recurrence of his depredations, and had offered a high price for information of his movements, and a still higher reward to any officer who should capture him.
For a few days Dick laid up his new boat, when fishing was done, in the mouth of the little stream on which he had launched it, tramping back with Sam over the four miles to the Towers. But this became irksome, and he tried to think of some means of keeping the craft nearer home without running the risk of its destruction by the smugglers. After a good deal of anxious consideration he hit upon the idea of building a shed for it on the beach at the foot of the cliff.
"Jown me if I see the good o' 't," said Sam, when Dick explained his plan. "They'll break into the shed, or fire it, if they want to, and we'll lose our boat and our labour too."
"But I've thought of a way of preventing that, Sam. They won't interfere with it in daylight: 'tis only the night we need fear. Well, we'll make 'em give us warning of any trick they play."
"I don't see how, unless they be born fools."
"They're not fools: far from it: but they might be a trifle sharper in the wits, perhaps. If it comes to scheming, I think we can beat 'em, Sam. We'll build the shed close under the house. Now listen. We'll make the door to open outwards, and tie a strand of sewing thread to the bottom, running it through hooks along the wall and out at the back of the shed. There we'll tie it to a fishing-line, and round a pulley up to the cliff-top, taking care to keep it off the rock by making it run through notches in sticks of wood. At the top we'll have another pulley, and at the foot of the house wall another, and so carry it into my bedroom. There we'll fasten it to a weight—a poker will do; which we'll sling up beside the window. We'll put a tea-tray underneath it, d' you see? so that if the shed door is pulled open the thread will break, the poker will fall, and make such a clatter that we are bound to hear it all over the house."
Sam broke into laughter.
"Ha! ha! it do mind me of the old 'ooman and little crooked sixpence," he cried. "Do 'ee mind, Maister Dick? 'Cat began to kill the rat, rat began to gnaw the rope,' and so on till th' old 'ooman got home at last. My life, 'tis a noble notion! What a headpiece you have got, to be sure! But, scrounch it all, won't they see the line?"
"I don't think so. 'Tis so much the colour of the rock that it will escape notice."
"True. But s'pose we do hear a clatter-bang. That won't stop 'em from hauling out the boat, and we couldn' get down the cliff in time to save her."
"I'd thought of that. We'll fix up a booby-trap over the door."
"Never heerd o't. What be a booby-trap?"
"'Tis a thing that Mr. Carlyon told me of, a trick he used to play when he was a young fellow at college. You fix above the doorway something that will tumble down when the door is opened, and come plump on the head of any one entering. That will stagger them, and while they are recovering their wits we shall have time to run down. You may be sure they'll run away before we get to them, for if we recognize them they'll have Sir Bevil to reckon with."
"Ha! ha!" laughed Sam. "That 'ud be a funny sight to see. We'll do it, Maister Dick, and 'tis my wish I bean't too sleepy to tumble up when they tries their tricks."
It was a full day's work, from daybreak to long past sunset, to erect the shed from materials carefully prepared beforehand. Dick felt the necessity of completing the apparatus before another day dawned, lest their proceedings should be spied from a passing boat and reported in the village before they were ready. He obtained permission from his father to remain out, telling him frankly what his purpose was, but without giving details, and toiled on, by the light of a screened lantern, until the whole contrivance wis finished. The booby-trap consisted of a pail nicely balanced on a bar running across the shed, and filled with water deeply coloured with indigo. It was connected by a thread with a loose board in the floor beneath, so that a trespasser stepping across the threshold would snap the thread, cause the pail to turn on its axis, and receive its contents on his head.
"The parson used flour, he told me," said Dick, "but 'tis too good to waste on those rascals."
"Ay, and a dousin' will make 'em cuss more," said Sam. "Oh, 'twill grieve me tarrible if I be asleep!"
Three days passed. Apparently the shed had not been discovered by the villagers. The boys tested their invention and found it successful. They took the boat out each morning, and restored it to its place when the day's fishing was done, fastening the door from the inside, connecting it with the booby-trap, and leaving the shed by a small door, just large enough to crawl through, at the back.
On the third evening Mr. Carlyon came to the Towers to join the Trevanions in a game of whist, as he did frequently during the winter months. It was a still, clear night, with a touch of frost in the air; but the cold did not penetrate to the Squire's room, where a blazing wood fire threw a rosy radiance on the panelled walls, and woke smiling reflections in the glasses and decanters that stood on a table near that at which the party of four were absorbed in their game. The house was quiet; Reuben and Sam had retired to rest, for the Vicar would need no attendance when he mounted his cob to ride home.
The Squire was in the act of shuffling the pack, when suddenly the silence of the house was shattered by a tremendous crash in one of the rooms above. Mrs. Trevanion pressed her hand to her side; the Squire missed his cast, and let the cards fall to the floor; Mr. Carlyon put down the glass which he had just raised to his lips, so hastily that the fluid spilled on the baize. Dick sprang up.
"'Tis the alarm!" he cried. "They are at my shed!"
He dashed out of the room, to meet Sam in shirt and breeches tumbling down the stairs. Dick seized a cutlass hanging on the wall, Sam the parson's riding-whip, and throwing open the door they sallied out into the night.
"It dinged me out of a lovely dream," said Sam. "Dash my buttons, 'twas a noble noise."
They scampered along the cliff to the zigzag path. Meanwhile the Squire hurriedly explained the matter to the astonished Vicar.
"Bless my life, I must go too," cried Mr. Carlyon. "The impudence of the scoundrels! Is this the result of Sir Bevil's intervention? Come along, Squire; bring your pistols. Man of peace as I am, I will give you absolution if you wing one of those fellows!"
The two hastened forth less than a minute after the boys. Both were active men, in spite of their years, and they scrambled down the path with no more stumbles than were excusable in elderly gentlemen a little short in the wind. Before they got to the bottom they saw a boat just pulling off from the shore, and the boys knee-deep in water, trying to give a parting salutation with their weapons to the disturbers of the peace. Sam had the satisfaction of hearing a bellow from the man in the stern of the boat as the whip-thong slashed his face; but Dick's cutlass was not long enough for effective use, and in a few seconds the marauders were out of reach.
The four met on the beach and hastened up towards the shed. To their surprise the door was only half open.
"They must have heard the noise," said Dick. "My window is open. I daresay they waited to see what it meant, and then heard us coming down, for when we got to the foot of the path they were beginning to shove the boat off."
"The neatest contrivance I ever heard of. I congratulate you on your ingenuity," said the Vicar heartily. "But we may as well see that the villains have done no mischief."
As he spoke he pulled the door fully open, and before Dick could check him, set his foot on the threshold. Instantly there was a splash; the worthy man gasped and spluttered, and came out with a spring, shaking his head like a dog emerging from a bath.
"God bless my soul!" cried the Squire, looking with amazement at the dark shower pouring from his friend on to the sand. "What on earth is this?"
"Ho! ho!" laughed Sam, prancing with delight, his veneration for the Church quite eclipsed by his joy at a fellow mortal's misadventure. "I ha' seed it arter all. Ho! ho!"
Dick, overwhelmed with dismay, shook Sam by the arm and bade him be silent. What excuse, what reparation could he make to the venerable gentleman who had suffered so untoward an accident?
"I didn't think—I tried to—I'm dreadfully sorry, sir," he stammered.
"Ha! ha!" came the parson's rolling laugh. "'Pon my life, he's an apt pupil, Squire. The young dog! Ha! ha!"
"Explain this—this—" began the Squire angrily.
"This booby-trap, Squire," cried Mr. Carlyon. "'Tis I am the booby. I taught Dick, in a reckless burst of confidence, how we young rantipoles at Oxford used to deal with each other—and our tutors too, I'm bound to say. I wish I hadn't. But, you young rascal, I told you that we used flour: what is this horrible stuff?"
"Only a solution of indigo, sir; it won't do you any harm," replied poor Dick.
"Won't do me any harm? Only make me black and blue, eh? Ha! ha! I'm glad 'tis no worse. But 'tis a thousand pities those ruffians escaped the shower. Well, well, the rain falls on the just and the unjust, we're told, and——bless me, Squire, it takes me back forty years, when we had rigged up a trap for a freshman, and it toppled on the reverend head of the dean himself. Ha! ha!"
"Ha! ha!" laughed the Squire, his vexation giving way to his sense of humour.
"Ho! ho!" roared Sam. "Drown me if it bean't the——"
"Shut up!" growled Dick. "Why must you laugh at the Vicar in that idiotic way?"
"'Cos he laughs at hisself," said Sam, highly aggrieved. "I wouldn' laugh at him with his nightgown on in church, not I; but when he be just like a simple common man, daze me if I can keep it in."
The two elders were now climbing the path. Dick stayed to retie the thread, though he did not expect that the marauders, after the alarm they had had, would make a second attempt that night. Having closed the door, he accompanied Sam up the cliff, greatly relieved when he heard, far above, the Vicar's hearty laugh, as he related to the Squire sundry other pranks and escapades of his younger days.
CHAPTER THE TWELFTH
Penwarden Disappears
As Dick hoped, the scare given to the enemy by his prompt sally from the Towers proved effectual; no further attempt was made to interfere with the boat. Rumours of the contrivance for giving an alarm spread among the villagers, and Mr. Carlyon, without revealing his own misadventure, took care to explain to Petherick, sexton, beadle, and constable, that the intruders would have suffered material damage if they had had the courage to enter the shed. Petherick duly reported this, as the parson intended, adding on his own account that the young monkeys had invented an instrument of torture for all who dared to molest them. The parson's housekeeper discussed with Petherick a strange stain upon her master's stock, and Petherick himself, despatched one day to the Truro perruquier with a parcel carefully tied, was amazed when the tradesman, opening it in his presence, revealed a wig, not iron grey, but mottled blue in colour. These matters were a topic of conversation in Polkerran for many a day, and there were some who offered explanations, and some who shook their heads and looked profoundly wise, but discreetly held their tongues. The truth was never known outside the Towers, Dick threatening Sam with excommunication if he breathed a word of it.
One Wednesday, early in December, the boys set out a little before dawn to fish. The air was cold and misty; trickles of condensed moisture ran down their faces and necks, and little pools formed on the rims of their hats. The exercise of rowing warmed them, and the discomfort, always less to their seasoned skins than it would have been to a townsman and a landlubber, was forgotten altogether when the fish rose freely to their bait. They made a good catch after two hours' work, and turned to row back in order to carry the fish home in time for early breakfast.
They had come nearly a mile from shore, and were pulling hard, the wind blowing off the land against them, when all at once, some distance astern, there loomed out of the mist a three-masted vessel of considerable size.
"Look, Sam," said Dick, "isn't that the same craft we saw following the smack that night?"
"'Tis so," replied Sam; "the night Maister John come home-along. I said he landed from the smack, you mind; you said 'a didn't; and I don't care who the man is, but I know I be right."
"Pull away, Sam. We don't want to be seen. It may be the French privateer we've heard about, and we ought to tell Mr. Mildmay or Penwarden."
"True, and there's money if she's catched. Would they gie us a bit o't, think 'ee?"
"I daresay. There! She has vanished into the mist again. Do you know if the cutter is in the harbour, Sam?"
"She warn't yesterday. Maister Mildmay is busy down coast. I'd liever old Joe got the money than he."
They saw no more of the vessel, even from the top of the cliff. Mr. Trevanion was interested in their news, and agreed that it should certainly be imparted to Penwarden or Mr. Polwhele, Mr. Mildmay being absent.
Dick remembered that the old exciseman had probably been up all night. He sympathised with him in his arduous duty of watching all through the long hours of darkness, in fair or foul weather, frost or rain. At dawn of day Penwarden was accustomed to take a "watch below," as he called it, until noon, priding himself on requiring no more than four or five hours' sleep. At noon an old woman from the village came to get his dinner and tidy up, leaving when her work was done, his other meals being prepared by himself. Dick decided not to awaken Penwarden until he had had his sleep out, but to seek Mr. Polwhele, whose house stood on the cliff half-a-mile on the further side of the village. Dick went there by a roundabout way, to avoid meeting the fisher-people and their sour looks. The riding-officer was much surprised at the news he brought.
"'Tis a risky thing on the part of Delarousse, if 'tis indeed he," said Mr. Polwhele; "and why he should come here I can't tell, for Polkerran is not worth powder and shot."
"Maybe to arrange for running a cargo," said Dick.
"I don't think that, for 'tis whispered that the folks here do not deal with him any longer. I can't think 'tis he, but I will run up my signal to warn Mr. Mildmay, if he can see it through the mist. Thank 'ee for the news. Perhaps you will tell Penwarden, and ask him to keep an eye lifting."
Dick promised to do so, and returned home.
Shortly before twelve, the time when Penwarden was usually moving about again, Dick walked up to the cottage to inform him of the strange vessel. He knocked at the door, but there was no answer. Thinking that the old man was lying later than usual after a tiring night's duty, Dick felt loth to rouse him, and resolved to wait a while, walking up and down before the cottage, beating himself for warmth's sake. Now and then he stopped to listen at the door, but there was no sound from within, nor indeed without, except the booming of the surf, the whistle of the wind impinging on the cliff edge, and the screams of gulls which had not yet flown inland to seek their winter sustenance in the neighbourhood of farms. The mist cleared off, and not a sign of the vessel was to be seen on the horizon.
"Old Gammer Oliver is late, too," thought Dick. "Perhaps Joe told her not to come at her usual time."
He took a book from his pocket, and read it, still walking up and down. But he soon tired of this; the hour for the midday meal at the Towers was drawing on; and he would have returned but for his promise to Mr. Polwhele.
"I ought to have hammered hard on the door at once," he said to himself. "Tired as he must be, he would not mind being disturbed in this case."
He shut up his book, slipped it into his pocket, and strode briskly towards the cottage, about thirty paces distant. No smoke was rising from the chimney; nothing was audible but the wind rustling the leaves of a laurel bush, and causing the bare tendrils of last year's creeper to scratch against the wall. The sudden scream of a gull wheeling its flight above the roof made Dick start and look round uneasily. There was nothing living, on four feet or on two, in sight.
He came to the door, and, hesitating no longer, rapped smartly upon it. Neither voice nor movement answered him. Again he knocked, with greater energy, calling the old man by name. The perfect silence when his knuckles ceased their tattoo alarmed him. Joe always locked the door when he left the cottage by day, and locked and bolted it when he retired at night. Still, it was a natural act to turn the handle, and Dick, when he did so, almost laughed, for the door opened, revealing the dark little passage, on one side of which was the bedroom, on the other the kitchen and sitting-room in one. Of course, the old fellow had gone out.
But as Dick stood on the threshold and his eyes became accustomed to the dimness within, this comforting reflection gave way to surprise and apprehension. Half-way down the passage Penwarden's hat lay on the floor. Near it was a bundle of bulrushes which he had brought back from a voyage in his sea-going days; it usually stood against the wall beneath a portrait of Rodney. Beyond, the glass of a case enclosing a stuffed John-Dory was broken to splinters, which glinted from the stone floor. The passage presented a strange contrast to its usual neat and tidy appearance.
"Joe!" Dick called.
His voice reverberated; there was no other sound. He entered the passage and opened the door of the kitchen. It was empty; nothing was in disorder; a kettle stood on the hob; on the table lay a mug, a knife, and a plate holding a few crumbs of bread, witnesses to the old man's supper. Dick turned about, crossed the passage, and halted for a moment at the bedroom door, seized by the shaking thought that Joe had been taken ill in the night—was perhaps dead. He called, rapped, and, with quivering nerves, entered. The blind was down, so that he could scarcely see; but there was the bed, empty, the bedclothes disturbed. He pulled up the blind. The cold light of the winter sky flooded the room, and he saw things that filled him with alarm. A chair was overturned; fragments of a pipe and a tinder-box lay beside the bed; a thin hair rug was creased into the shape of billows; on one of the white deals was a dark red stain. The appearance of both room and passage pointed to a struggle. The stain was the fresh mark of blood.
What had become of the old man? Dick felt the answer to his unspoken question. Excisemen had many enemies; sometimes they lost their lives, not merely in open fight with the smugglers, but by insidious attack. Mr. Mildmay had told of ambushes, midnight assaults, torture, brutal murders. Such incidents were almost unknown in the west country; the fair fame of Cornishmen had not been sullied as that of the men of Kent and Sussex had been. But what more likely than that the bitter ill-feeling rife in the village, which had lately vented itself against the inmates of the Towers, should now have sought a new victim in Penwarden? If the smugglers were prepared to go such lengths against the Trevanions, towards whom their hereditary loyalty had for generations been akin to the Scottish clansman's devotion to his chief, they would scarcely be disposed to spare a humble old seaman, to whom they attributed the heavy losses they had recently suffered.
These thoughts ran through Dick's mind in a moment. That Penwarden had suffered violent handling he could not doubt. He must at once report the disappearance. He hurried from the room, closing the door, and in the passage met Gammer Oliver, as she was called, the old woman who came daily from the village.
"Oh, Maister Trevanion!" she exclaimed, "you did give me a turn."
"Mr. Penwarden is not here; something has happened to him. You don't know anything about him?"
"Do 'ee say it? Lawk-a-deary, and me so late and all! My darter was took bad this morning, or——"
"Do you know anything about him?" repeated Dick.
"Not a mossel, sir. I hain't seed the gaffer since I gied un his dinner yesterday. Save us all! What a moil and muddle things be in!"
"Yes, I don't know what has happened. Tidy up, and bring the door-key to the Towers. I am going now."
He hastened home, and told the Squire what he had discovered, and what his suspicions were. Mr. Trevanion, often supine and sluggish in matters concerning himself, was energetic enough when he heard of wrong or injustice suffered by others.
"This is scandalous!" he exclaimed. "Do you go at once and find Mr. Polwhele, Dick. I will hurry to the parson. Stay, I'll give Sam a note for Sir Bevil; we must raise a hue and cry after the old man. Where is Mildmay, I wonder?"
"Mr. Polwhele was going to signal to him, sir," said Dick.
"That's right. He must watch the coast. I've heard of the wretches shipping off to France preventive men who make themselves troublesome. 'Tis ten to one they will serve Penwarden so; that vessel you saw may have come for that purpose."
Within a few minutes the three active members of the household had gone their several ways. Dick hastened for the second time to see the riding-officer. As he went he came to a resolution. The smugglers, it was clear, were determined on pursuing their policy of persecution. All who opposed them, or whom they supposed to be their opponents, would have to reckon with their remorseless animosity, which might express itself in open violence or deeds of stealth as necessity demanded. It was to be war, and, as events were shaping themselves, war between the village and the Towers. Well, the war should be fought out. The quarrel had been forced on the Trevanions; they had not willingly departed from their neutrality; but matters had now gone so far that to remain neutral was impossible, and Dick resolved to take once for all the side of the law. He anticipated some difficulty in bringing his father to adopt the same attitude; but at the present moment the Squire was so indignant with the smugglers that, even if he was not ready to throw himself into active opposition to them, he might not forbid Dick to do so. Feeling that at such a crisis all quiet work at his books was impossible, Dick determined to beg Mr. Carlyon to release him, and to devote himself heart and soul to the contest, whether of wits or weapons. The first object must be the rescue of Joe Penwarden.
Mr. Polwhele was still at home.
"This is a new thing, 'pon my life," he said, when Dick had told him his tidings. "Till now the villains have been only on the defensive; to take the offensive means there's a new spirit working in 'em. D'you think, now, that your father is right, and John Trevanion is the man behind?"
"I don't want to say what I think, Mr. Polwhele," replied Dick. "Whether he is or not, we must put a stop to it. I can't do much, but what I can do I will."
"I'm glad to hear it. The curious thing is that John Trevanion has but lately been here. One of the fishers had told him of the strange vessel, and he came for the same purpose as you, to ask me to signal to Mr. Mildmay. He said it was scandalous that the Frenchman should be allowed to cruise at large."
"Do you think she came to ship Penwarden away, sir? That is my father's idea."
"'Tis a notion, now, but not likely, unless John Trevanion came here to throw me off the scent. You saw no small boat pulling to the ship, did you?"
"No, sir."
"Then I think the Squire is wrong. Now, seemingly, Mr. Mildmay has not seen my signal, but he must be somewhere off the coast. As soon as 'tis dark I will show a light with my telescope lantern; that will fetch him; and if you are ready to join hands with us, I will bring him to the Towers and we'll hold a council of war. Will the Squire agree to it?"
"I don't know. I'll ask him, and if you'll meet me at six o'clock on the bridge yonder, I will tell you what he says."
When the Squire returned from his visit to the Parsonage, Dick opened his mind to him. At first Mr. Trevanion shrank from definitely committing himself to the cause of the revenue officers, but when Dick pointed out that his position could scarcely be worse than it was, and that the Trevanion influence might still have some weight with the better-disposed among the village folk, he consented to the riding-officer's proposal.
"The vicar is coming over this evening," he said. "We shall at any rate have all the wisdom of the parish."
At half-past six there met in the Squire's room, Mr. Mildmay, the riding-officer, Mr. Carlyon, and Dick. They drew their chairs to the fire; the elder men lit their churchwarden pipes, and, with glasses of steaming toddy at their elbows, proceeded to discuss the situation.
"I have a note from Sir Bevil," said the Squire. "He is sending to Truro for assistance. What shape that may take I don't know."
"The shape of a constable or two, probably," said Mr. Polwhele, "and if they are no better than Petherick, they won't help us much."
"Petherick shall cry the village to-morrow," said the Vicar. "Being a justice as well as parson, I have written out a proclamation, summoning all good and true men to give information that will lead to the discovery of Penwarden, dead or alive."
"I don't believe they'd murder him," said Mr. Mildmay, "or they wouldn't take the trouble to spirit him away. A crack on the head would be a much simpler matter."
"What do you suppose is their object in kidnapping him?" asked the Vicar.
"Either to hold him while they run a specially valuable cargo, or to ship him to France and keep him permanently out of their way. A fool's trick; for he's bound to be replaced, though we'd find it hard to get a better man, old as he is."
"And foolish in another way," added the riding-officer. "They ought to know that a deed of that kind will only stir up the rest of us. I wouldn't give much for their chances of running a cargo yet awhile."
"Nor for shipping him," said Mr. Mildmay. "I'll swear they haven't done it yet. My boats were up and down the coast all last night. One of them spied that rascally privateer putting in towards St. Cuby's Cove in the mist this morning, but she sailed away, and though I gave chase, she got off. To-night we'll have the boats patrolling for miles; I defy 'em to slip through us."
"When did they seize him, d'you suppose?" asked the Squire.
"In the early morning, I think, Father," said Dick, "before it was light. The blood stain was quite fresh. They must have hidden him somewhere; they wouldn't carry him away in the daylight, in case some one saw them."
"That wouldn't trouble them, bless you," said Mr. Mildmay. "All Polkerran and most of the folk around are hand-in-glove with them. They could count on the silence of everybody but a few ranters and psalm-singers, who would either be abed and asleep, or going about their business."
"I don't agree with you, Mildmay," said the Squire. "They would have to pass this house on the way to the village, and they know very well that Dick and young Sam are early birds; they wouldn't risk meeting them. No; 'twas done in the dark, depend on it."
"That might be if they took him to the village, but we don't know that," retorted Mr. Mildmay. "No doubt there are any number of underground cellars and secret passages in the village: 'twas in some such place that fellow Delarousse was hidden while the dragoons were searching the inn, you may be sure. But those are not the only possible hiding-places. What with nooks, caves, and adits in the abandoned mines, we might search for a month of Sundays and not find the poor fellow."
"But they won't hold him long, surely," said Dick. "What a trouble it would be to guard him and feed him!"
"True; they would expect to be able to ship him soon. If they are planning a run, and find we're too watchful for them, I'll be bound they'll let him loose before long, and we'll find him one fine morning back again."
"Dick speaks of guarding and feeding," said Mr. Carlyon. "May not that give us a clue? It seems probable, as Mr. Mildmay suggests, that he is not in the village. If he is elsewhere, somebody must leave the village to carry food to him, and a vigilant watch would detect the fellow."
"Bless my life, parson," said Mr. Polwhele, "you don't know these rascals. They're as wary as otters and as slippery as eels. I'll warrant they'd slip us in broad daylight, and as to the darkness of night, why, a regiment of soldiers wouldn't be large enough to net 'em."
"Well, to be practical," said the Squire. "You, Vicar, as a justice, can give Mr. Polwhele a warrant of search. You may unearth him in the village, and I should begin with the inn; Doubledick's name suits him. With the coast closely watched by Mr. Mildmay's men, the kidnappers cannot ship him. Sir Bevil will raise the hue and cry in the neighbourhood inland, and 'tis such a serious matter that I doubt whether any of the yeomen would connive at it. The name ofhabeas corpuswould scare them out of their wits. I'm inclined to think with Mr. Mildmay that the rascals will let him loose in a day or two when they see what a stir they have made; but of course we must not rely on that, but do our best to ferret him out."
"Very well summed up, Squire," said the Vicar. "We cannot do more to-night; and, as 'tis not late, perhaps you and these gentlemen would favour me with a rubber. Polwhele trumped my trick last time," he added, under his breath.
"With all my heart," cried the Squire. "Dick, bring the cards, and ask Reuben to fry some pilchards. All work and no play, Mr. Mildmay, you know——"
The gentlemen were nothing loth to spend an hour or two in this way. They had supper at eight; the officers then left to attend to their nocturnal duties; and as Mr. Carlyon remained to play piquet with the Squire, Dick went to bed early, resolving to take some independent steps in the morning.