CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.
MYSTERIOUS DOINGS.
We return, now, to the coast of Kent, and beg the reader to follow usinto the Smuggler's Cave at Saint Margaret's Bay.
Here, in a dark corner, sat old Jeph. It was a stormy Sunday afternoon.The old man had gone to the Bay to visit Coleman, and accompany him tohis place of worship. Jeph had wandered alone in the direction of thecave after church. He found that some one had recently cleared itsmouth of the rubbish that usually filled it, and that, by bending low,he could gain an entrance.
Being of an adventurous disposition, the old man went in, and, seatinghimself on a projecting rock in a dark corner, fell into a profoundreverie. He was startled out of this by the sound of approachingfootsteps.
"Come in, come in," said a deep hoarse voice, which Jeph at oncerecognised as that of Long Orrick, his old enemy. "Come in, Nick; youseem to have got a'feer'd o' the dark of late. We'll be out o' sighthere, and I'll amuse ye till this squall blows over with an account o'what I heer'd the old man say."
"This squall, as ye call it, won't blow over so soon as ye think,"replied Rodney Nick in a sulky tone. "Hows'ever, we may as well waithere as anywhere else; or die here for all that I care!"
"Hallo! messmate, wot's ado that ye should go into the blues when we'reon the pint o' making our fortins?" said Orrick.
"Ado!" cried Rodney angrily, "is it not bad enough to be called messmateby _you_, and not be able to deny it?"
"You're civil, anyhow," said Orrick, with an oath.
"I mean to be," retorted Nick, fiercely.
"Come, come, it's no use quarrelling," said Orrick, with an affectationof good-humour. "Never say die! Nick; them's the words o' theimmortial Nelson, w'en he gave the signal to blaze away at Trafalgar.But sit ye down here on this rock, and I'll tell ye all about wot Isee'd last night. Ye'd like to know, I dessay."
"I'd like to have know'd sooner, if you had seen fit to tell me," saidRodney Nick, in a gruff tone.
"Well, then, keep yer mind easy, and here goes. You know as how Ichanced to hear old Jeph make an appointment with that young puppy, GuyFoster, to meet him at the darkest hour o' night at the tomb o' MaryBax. Thinks I, it won't be for nothin' you're goin' to meet at sich anhour in sich a place, my hearties, so I'll go an' keep ye company in a_private_ way!
"You may be sure I was up to time. Two hours did I wait in the ditchbehind the tomb, and I can tell ye, Nick, it's desprit eerie worka-sittin' there all alone of a dark night, a-countin' of the beatins ofyer 'art, an' thinkin' every shadow of the clouds is a ghost.Hows'ever, the old man came at last, and lies down flat on the grave,and begins to groan a bit. Arter that he takes to prayin', an', d'yeknow, the way that old feller prays is a caution. The parsons couldn'thold a candle to him. Not that I ever heer'd ony of 'em, but I _s'pose_they couldn't!
"Well, he was cut short in the middle by the arrival of the puppy--."
"Wot puppy?" inquired Rodney.
"Guy, to be sure; ain't he the biggest puppy in Deal?" said Orrick.
"Mayhap, but he ain't the _longest_," retorted Rodney; "go on."
"Humph!--well, down sits Guy on the head o' the tombstone, and pats oldJeph on the shoulder.
"`Here I am, Jeph; come now, what is it you are so anxious to tell me?'
"The old man sat up: `I'm goin' to die,' says he.
"`Nonsense,' cried the young 'un, in a cheerie tone, by way of "don'tsay that." `You're as tough as an old bo'sn. Come, that wasn't whatyou wanted to tell me, I'm sure.'
"`Ay, but it was,' says the old man in sich an earnest voice that theyoung 'un was forced to become serious. `Listen, Guy,' he goes on, `I'mgoin' to die, an' there's no one in this world as I've got to look afterme.'
"Guy was goin' to interrupt him at this point, but he laid his hand onhis shoulder and bade him be silent.
"`I've got no relations, Guy, except two,' says he, `an' I've nochilder. I never married. The only girl I ever loved lies under thecold, cold sod. You know that I'm a poor man, an' the two relations Ispoke of are rich--rich--ay, and they're fond o' money. Mayhap that'sthe reason they _are_ rich! Moreover, they know I've got the matter o'forty pounds or thereabouts, and I know that when I die they'll fightfor it--small though it is, and rich though they be--and my poor fortunewill either go to them or to the lawyers. Now, Guy, this must not be;so I want you to do me a kindness. I'm too old and frail to go aboutmatters o' business, an' I never was good at wot they call business inmy best days, so I want you to pay all my debts for me, and bring me thereceipts.'
"`I'll do it, Jeph,' said Guy, `and much more than that, if you'll onlytell me how I can serve you; but you mustn't speak in that sorrowful wayabout dying.'
"`Sorrowful!' cries the old man, quite surprised like; `bless yourheart, I'm not sorrowful. Don't the Book say, "It's better to be absentfrom the body and present with the Lord?"' (ah, you may grin as youplease, Nick, but I give ye the 'xact words o' the old hypocrite.) `No,no, Guy,' continued Jeph, `I'll be right glad to go; many a sad yetpleasant hour have I spent here, but I'm weary now, and would fain go,if the Lord will. Now, it's my opinion that I've just two weeks tolive--'
"`Jeph!' exclaimed Guy.
"`Don't interrupt me, lad. I've got _two weeks to live_, so I want youto go and arrange about my funeral. Get a coffin made--I used to be sixfeet when I was young, but I dessay I'm shorter now--and get theundertaker to cast up beforehand wot it'll all come to, and pay him, andbring me the receipts. Will ye do this, lad?'
"`I will, if you wish it, but--'
"`If I didn't wish it I wouldn't ask it.'
"`Well, Jeph,' said Guy, earnestly, `I _will_ do it.'
"`Thank'ee, lad, thank 'ee. I know'd ye would, so I brought the moneywith me. Here it is--forty pounds all told; you'll pay for the things,and bring me the receipts, and _keep the rest and use it in the serviceof God_. I know I can trust you, lad, so that's enough. All I want isto prevent my small savin's goin' to the winds, or to those as don'tneed 'em; _you_ understand how to give it to those as do.'"
"Is that all?" said Rodney Nick, impatiently.
"No that's not all," replied his companion, "though if it _was_ all,it's a rather coorious fact, for which ye might thank me for takin' thetrouble to tell you. But you're thankless by nature. It seems to methat nother you nor me's likely to trouble Guy Foster to look arter_our_ spare cash in that way! But that ain't the end o' my story yet."
"What! you didn't rob 'em? eh! you didn't pitch into the `Puppy,' andease him o' the shiners?"
Rodney Nick said this with a sneer, for he was well aware that hisboastful companion would not have risked a single-handed encounter withGuy on any consideration.
"No, I didn't; it warn't worth the trouble," said Orrick, "but--youshall hear. Arter the old man had said his say, Guy asked him if thatwas all, for if it was, he didn't see no occasion to make no secretabout it."
"`No,' said the old man, `that's not all. I want you to take charge ofa packet, and give it to Bax after I'm gone. No one must break the sealbut Bax. Poor Bax, I'd thought to have seen him once again before Iwent. I'll leave the old house to him; it ain't worth much, but you canlook arter it for him, or for Tommy Bogey, if Bax don't want it. Many ahappy evening we've spent in it together. I wanted to give you theparcel here--here out on the dark Sandhills, where no one but God hearsus. It's wonderful what a place the town is for eavesdroppin'! so Imade you come out here. You must promise me never to open the packetunless you find that Bax is dead; _then_ you may open it, and do as youthink fit. You promise me this?'
"`I do,' said Guy, as the old man pulled a small packet, wrapped inbrown paper, from his breast pocket, and put it into his hands. Then,they rose and went away together."
"Well?" said Rodney Nick.
"Well!" echoed Long Orrick, "wot then?"
"What next? what d'ye want to do?" inquired Rodney.
"Do," cried Orrick, "I mean to get hold o' that packet if I can, by fairmeans or by foul
, _that's_ wot I mean to do, and I mean that you shallhelp me!"
The reader may imagine what were the feelings of the poor old man as hesat in the dark corner of the cave listening to this circumstantialrelation of his most secret affairs. When he heard Long Orrick's lastwords, and felt how utterly powerless he was in his weakness tocounteract him in his designs, he could not prevent the escape of a deepgroan.
The effect on the two men was electrical. They sprang up, filled withsuperstitious horror, and fled precipitately from the cave.
Old Jeph staggered out after them, and made for the cottage of hisfriend Coleman. The latter met him near the threshold.
"Why, Jeph, is this you? I've bin searchin' for ye more than an hour,and come to the conclusion ye must ha' gone home; but why, you're ill,Jeph!"
"Ay, I'm ill, come, help me home."
"Nay, not this night, you shall stop with me; the missus'll give you acup o' tea as will do yer old heart good."
"No, I must go home now," said Jeph, in a tone so decided that hisfriend was staggered.
"You can't walk it, you know, in a stormy night like this."
"I _will_ walk it," said Jeph.
"Come, then, if you're bent on it, you'd better go in your own lugger;it's here just now, agoin' to put off in ten minutes or so. Nothin'ever stops Bluenose, blow high, blow low. W'en he wants to go off tosea, he _goes_ off, right or wrong. But you'll take a glass o' grogfirst."
Old Jeph would not do this, so he was led down to the beach by Coleman,where they found the boat being launched.
"Good-bye, old man," said Coleman, helping him over the side.
"_Good-bye,--farewell_," said Jeph earnestly. "I came here to-daya-purpose to say farewell; shake hands, God bless you."
The coast-guard-man was surprised by the warmth of his friend's manner,as well as by his words; but before he could ask him what he meant, theboat was run down the beach and out to sea. An hour later old Jeph wascarefully put to bed in his own cottage, by his friend Captain Bluenose.
The Lifeboat Page 21
