A Lad of Grit: A Story of Adventure on Land and Sea in Restoration Times
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CHAPTER XXI--Our Search for the Treasure
The excitement of the previous night banished sleep from our eyes, andrising betimes we formed our plans for the day's work. Now that Joycehad gone to his last account there was no longer need for caution orconcealment of our plans, and to the utmost astonishment of the craftyhost of the Wentworth Inn, I was presented to him as the rightful lordof Holwick.
We thereupon breakfasted, and then made our way to the castle grounds.Viewed by daylight the whole scene was changed. The grey old tower,blackened by powder and fire, was so badly damaged as to be useless as aplace of abode, little tendrils of ivy already serving to clothe theruin with a kindly garb. The stream that looked so black in thedarkness now glittered in the warm sunlight, as if unmindful of thetragedy that had been enacted but a few hours before.
A careful search amid the dense masses of weed failed to give any clueto the mysterious disappearance of the double-dyed villain, so weconcluded that his body must have escaped the tenacious grip of thethick vegetable growth.
On all sides rose little mounds of excavated earth, showing howvigorously Joyce had pursued his quest for the hidden treasure, eachmound being thirty-two paces from the wall.
"Now, Aubrey, let's to work," exclaimed Felgate, throwing off his cloakand vest and rolling up his sleeves in a manner that showed hisenthusiasm.
"Here, take the document and apply the directions to the actual place,"I remarked. "This is the west side; yonder are two tall fir trees. Now,measure off thirty-two paces."
Felgate commenced to do so, Drake following at his heels.
"... Twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty---- Ha!"
For the thirtieth pace had brought him to the edge of the stream, andthe thirty-second would be as near as anything right in the centre ofthe river bed.
For a moment we stood aghast. Surely there must be some mistake! ThenDrake, slapping me soundly on the back, exclaimed in excited tones:"Bethink thee, Aubrey, the old hag's words: 'Till the waters run dry'!"
"And what of that?" I replied, dull of comprehension.
"Simply that the treasure lies in the bed of the stream. We must divertits course and the hiding place will be revealed."
"Let me try," exclaimed the impetuous Felgate, and in spite of ourprotests he waded into the water, which seemingly rose no higher thanhis knees.
At the third step he suddenly lurched forward, threw out his arms in afrantic effort to regain his balance, then disappeared beneath thesurface.
The next instant he reappeared; but though he kept his head above thewater, his legs were held by the weeds, and a look of horror overspreadhis face when he realized the danger of his position.
Had we not been there, his fate would have been sealed; but, cautiouslywading in, Drake holding my left hand, I extended my right arm towardshim.
I grasped him with a great effort, and we dragged him out of the hole,his jack boot being wrenched from his foot by the unrelenting grip ofthe tendrils.
"You are right, Drake," he panted. "There's a deep hole there, and thetreasure lies in it."
"Come, then, at once," said Drake, "to the village, and enrol every manwho can use mattock and spade. We'll have a channel cut here"(indicating a semicircle of about forty yards in diameter), "and dam thestream on each side of this hole."
There was no need to go as far as the village. Already the strangetidings had spread, and a motley throng of villagers were gatheredaround the entrance to the estate, curious, yet loath to come nearer.
They raised a cheer at our approach, and when we told them of our wantsthere was a general stampede on the part of the men folk for diggingimplements.
While we awaited their return, a man having the air of petty authoritystepped up to us and, addressing me, said:
"You are Sir Aubrey Wentworth, I am told."
I assented, and at the same time asked the fellow his business.
"In me you see the lawful representative of the sheriff of York. Beforeyou delve, or take possession of, any portion of this land, I must havehis authority. For aught I know, saving your presence, ye may beadventurers of low degree, outlaws, or the like."
"And where is your authority?" I demanded, wroth at being interferedwith on my own land.
For answer he pulled a parchment from his pouch and held it up for myinspection.
"And have you any proof, sir, that you are lord of Holwick?" hecontinued.
Save for a few papers relating to the finding of the treasure I hadnone; even the title deeds, though close at hand, were not to beproduced till the stream had been diverted; so I shook my head. Surelyit was a pretty pass--a knight without a scrap of script to provehimself such!
"Then, till you get authority from the sheriff I cannot allow you totarry here," said the bailiff in a deferential yet decisive tone.
"Then there remains but for me to journey to York," I replied. "How farlies the city?"
"One hour's ride by Fulford will bring you to Walmgate Bar. Thesheriff, methinks, will be found at Clifford's Tower."
Ten minutes later Drake and I were spurring hotly towards York, Felgate,by reason of having but one jack boot and wet clothes, being compelledto stay behind, and before long the massive towers of the Minster showedabove the skyline.
So strong was our pace that in less than the hour our horses' hoofsclattered under the archway of the Bar.
On our being ushered into the presence of the sheriff, that worthy, aman of fierce and resolute aspect, curtly demanded our business.
"Sir Aubrey Wentworth, forsooth," he cried, "and not a word in writingto prove your right! Nay, good sirs, I cannot grant you your desires onso weighty a matter with so light a claim. A person of repute mustidentify you."
"But I know no man in the whole of Yorkshire!" I exclaimed, feeling thehopelessness of my position.
"Then authority must be obtained from the King's Court at St. James's.I can say no more to you, Sir Aubrey, so I wish you good-day."
His manner showed that the interview had ended, and, sick at heart, Ileft his presence, Drake offering me wasted yet well-meaningconsolation.
We walked slowly towards Petergate, where our steeds had been stabled.As we turned into that street an officer came swiftly round the corner,so that we ran violently against each other. In a moment I recognizedhim; he was none other than Ralph Slingsby, who brought the tidings ofthe Restoration to us at the "Flying Bull" at Rake on the same eveningthat my father was murdered.
"Ah, Captain Slingsby!" I exclaimed.
He eyed me with astonishment.
"I know you not, young sir, and as for the captain, that is but a bygonehandle to my name, for I am Colonel Ralph Slingsby at your service."
Briefly I recalled the scene in the "Flying Bull".
"Then you are Sir Owen Wentworth's son?" he asked.
I assented, and told him briefly of what had happened.
"Back with me to the sheriff's house," he said. "It would ill repay thefriendship I owed your father if I did not render this slight service tohis son. Young sir, I see now that you are the very image of yourfather when first I knew him."
With Slingsby to aid us, the interview with the sheriff was of shortduration, and, armed with a warrant, I left his presence in a far bettermood than I was in an hour before.
Shaking the colonel warmly by the hand, I bade him farewell, promisingto call upon him directly my affairs were settled, and, mounting ourhorses, Drake and I sped joyfully back towards Holwick, which we reachedwithin four hours of our departure.
For the rest of the day our army of workers toiled at their arduoustask, and before nightfall a cutting was made sufficiently wide and deepto divert the stream.
Next morning the men commenced to construct the two dams, and so welldid they labour that by noon the river was diverted, and only a pool ofwater covered the mysterious hole where we supposed the treasure waslying.
Then came the difficulty of getting rid of the water and emptying thecavity in the old bed o
f the river. Pumps were procured, yet theprogress was slow, and as the sun sank to rest the bed was dry, though apool of dark water showed clearly the position of the hiding place.
"Why did Sir Owen go to that extreme trouble?" remarked Drake, as wewere returning to the inn. "Surely he could have deposited the treasureand the papers with Master Whitehead?"
"I cannot tell," I replied, "except, perhaps, that his faith in lawyerswas none too strong."
"Then he was like my sire," rejoined Felgate, laughing. "For he used tosay: 'Show me a lawyer and I'll show you a thief!'"
Early next morning the work of pumping was resumed, and as the watersank slowly down the mouth of the cavity, a dark object showed amidstthe lank weeds. One of the men pounced upon it, cut the restrainingtendrils, and held the object up for our inspection. It was Felgate'sjack boot.
Before noon the pumps sucked dry; the hole was emptied of water. Aladder was thrust down, and found a firm bottom at about fifteen feet.Armed with lanterns, Felgate and I prepared to descend, and, havingfastened a rope round our waists, we commenced carefully to climb downthe ladder.
By the fitful glimmer of the candles we could see that we were in avaulted chamber, the roof of which had caved in, forming the aperturethrough which we had descended. Apparently it had at one time been asubterranean passage between the castle and the village, but walls hadbeen built, converting it into a small chamber of about twenty feet inlength and six in breadth.
The floor was slimy with mud, and when our eyes had grown accustomed tothe darkness we perceived an object lying close to our feet. Felgatestooped and flashed the lantern on it. It was the body of IncreaseJoyce, his features drawn horribly in his death struggles!
We shouted for another rope to be let down, and, tying it round thelimp, lifeless form, we gave the signal, and the body of the unfortunateruffian was drawn up to the light of day.
Another object met our gaze; it was the skeleton of a man encased inarmour that showed him to have been a Roundhead. He must have perishedduring the attack on the castle, for his heavy broadsword was found byhis side.
"Send a man down with a spade," called Felgate to those above, andpresently a man came down the ladder, followed by Drake. In less thanan hour the mud was heaped in one corner of the vault, laying bare ahard, roughly paved floor. Still there was no sign of themuch-sought-for prize.
The damp, unhealthy atmosphere made our heads swim, so for a time thework was suspended and we gained the upper air, where a crowd of morbidcountrymen were dividing their attention between the corpse of theunfortunate Increase Joyce and the gaping hole from which we hademerged.
A rest of half an hour revived us, and we returned to the attack withfeverish anxiety.
"Three feet down and we'll come across it right enough," said Drake, andlustily two stout countrymen plied their tools.
The cobbles, set in cement, were like an iron plate, but once these wereremoved the work of digging a hole became easy. As the depth increasedour excitement rose, till at length one of the mattocks struck somethingthat emitted a metallic sound. It was a heavy iron chest.
When laid bare, the box was about three feet in length, about two feetin breadth, and a foot and a half in depth. Two handles, rusted withage, were sufficiently strong to enable the chest to be hoisted by meansof a stout rope, and with a shout of suppressed excitement from thecrowd the precious box was hauled up and deposited on the grass.
THE CHEST IS HOISTED TO THE SURFACE]
As we had no keys a cold chisel was required, but, this not beingforthcoming, a man was dispatched to the village to procure one.
While we were waiting, the bailiff, who was now most civil and obliging,placed in my hands an object that had been found in Joyce's pocket. Itwas the long-lost metal box which my father had mentioned in his will,but its contents were simply two pieces of faded and much-handled papercontaining one-third of the mysterious directions that had so puzzledthe murderer and would-be thief.
On the messenger's return we used the cold chisel to such good purposethat the massive lid flew open with a clang and a groan, disclosing anumber of canvas sacks filled with coins of all sorts. Underneath werea few pieces of silver-plate, such as had not been melted down for theuse of His Late Majesty King Charles, the martyr, while at the bottom ofthe chest was a package carefully protected by a covering of oiled silk.
Tearing open the covering, I found all the documentary evidence that wasrequired to prove my right to the Manor of Holwick--the cup of joy wasfilled to overflowing, and, in spite of my surroundings, I sought reliefin a flood of tears.
----
Concerning the events that marked the close of the strange history of myfather's will there is but little to write.
The contents of the treasure chest were sufficient for me to restore theManor of Holwick to its former greatness. The castle still stands, avenerable ruin, but a small yet stately mansion, designed by the greatWren himself, occupies a commanding position within a mile of theshattered remains of our ancestral hall.
Still the years roll on. The Merrie Monarch was succeeded by hisbrother James, whose ill-advised acts alienated his subjects. Williamand Mary then reigned, William being succeeded by his wife's sister,good Queen Anne, whom God preserve. All these monarchs I have activelyserved; and when the call of duty has not taken me to the high seas, oron service in some foreign land, my leisure time has always been spentin the quietness of Holwick.
One by one the friends of my youth have gone. None have I grieved formore than for Felgate when I learned of his glorious death in the momentof victory at the battle of La Hogue. Greville Drake still remains mytried and trusted companion, and our greatest pleasure during ourfrequent meetings is to talk of the many adventures of our youth in thedays of the Merrie Monarch.