The Adventures of Dick Trevanion: A Story of Eighteen Hundred and Four

by Herbert Strang

  CHAPTER THE EIGHTH

  A Light on the Moor

  Next day everybody in Polkerran knew of Jake Tonkin's thrashing. It wasdiscussed by the men in tap-rooms, on the jetty, in barns and piggeries,in mills and cobblers' work-rooms. Fishwives chattered about it ontheir doorsteps and at their windows. Boys meeting their playmates askedif they had heard that Jake Tonkin had been walloped by Squire, andJake, as the victim of two assaults of this nature in succession, waslooked upon as something of a hero. Public opinion was dead against theSquire, and was perhaps only the stronger because it was in the wrong.

  It was clear that John Trevanion intended to make himself as unpleasantas possible to his relative. In the afternoon a number of men were seenmounting the steep road from the village to the cliff, drawing trolleysladen with short narrow planks of wood. On reaching the green levelthey proceeded to erect fences on the ground that had formerly been theSquire's, and was now John Trevanion's. By the end of the next day alarge portion of the land was enclosed, the effect of these operationsbeing that the inmates of the Towers were cramped in their movements outof doors, being restricted to the high road and the various rights ofway, which even the landlord could not close against them.

  Sam Pollex hoped that the Squire would retaliate. The Beal, from whichthe huer was accustomed to show his signals to the pilchard fishers, wasstill Mr. Trevanion's property, and he could, if he chose, fence itround in the same way. But there was nothing petty in the Squire'snature. He was not the man to take a mean revenge on his neighbours, sothat when a fisher reported one evening that he had seen sharks andgrampuses some distance out at sea, a sure sign that the pilchards werecoming, the villagers went to bed without any fear that access would beforbidden to the usual haunt.

  Just before dawn next morning, Nathan Pendry, father of John Trevanion'sportmanteau carrier, the most experienced fisher in the village, tookhis stand at the extremity of the Beal, carrying his bush. Seaward, thesky was gloomy; in the east a pale orange and pink glow on the horizonannounced the rising sun. The air was very still, only the slow rippleswashing the sand at the foot of the cliff breaking the silence. In thefairway lay three boats, the largest of them a smack of eight tonsburden, manned by six oarsmen, together with Tonkin and a fisher nearlyas large as he. These men and the occupants of the other boats satwithout speaking, their eyes fixed on the huer above. He stoodmotionless, gazing intently on the surface of the sea. Beyond thepromontory the village was as yet asleep; one man stood solitary at theend of the jetty.

  Suddenly the huer bent forward, in an attitude of intense expectancy. Afew minutes passed; then lifting himself he waved his bush aloft. Hisexperienced eyes had detected a shadow in the water, moving across thebay in a direction parallel with the shore. Instantly the men in thefirst boat fell to their oars, and Tonkin, standing up in the stern, andmaking a trumpet of his hands, shouted, "Havar! havar!" towards thesingle figure on the jetty. This man repeated the cry; it was taken upin the village; and soon from every street and lane a crowd of men,women, and children poured up towards the cliffs, dressing themselves asthey ran, and shouting, "Havar! havar! Yo-hoy, hoy, hoy!"

  Meanwhile the rowers were tugging at their oars with all their might,Ike Pendry, who was rowing bow, having his eyes fixed on his father, anddirecting the steersman in accordance with the movements of the bush.The ground behind the huer was now thronged with spectators, no longershouting, but watching Pendry and the boatmen in tense silence. All atonce the huer dropped his bush; the rowers shipped oars; and Tonkin andhis mate grasped a long net, which had lain folded ready to their hands,and with a few deft movements shot it overboard.

  "Yo-hoy, yo-hoy!" broke from every throat. Then the crowd relapsed intosilence, watching the further proceedings in the bay.

  The "seine net," as it was called, was a quarter of a mile long andsixteen fathoms broad at the middle. It was fastened on each side to twostout double ropes, and at each corner to four strong warps about fiftyfathoms long. Corks were fixed to the upper edge, and leaden weights tothe lower. When it was "shot," the corks buoyed up one end to thesurface of the water, the leads sank the other perpendicularly to thebottom. The boat meanwhile was rowed round the shoal, following thedirections of the huer, until, the two extremities being made fast, thefish were imprisoned in an oblong barrier of network. As Tonkinstraightened his back after completing his part of the work, anothershout rent the air, and the huer, his task also accomplished, brokethrough the dignified calm which had hitherto distinguished him, andwaved his cap triumphantly.

  Now came the turn of the "tuck-boat," one of those that had remained asyet in the fairway. It was rowed within the area enclosed by the seine,and laid close to the seine-boat, to the bows of which one end of asmaller net, called the "tuck," was fastened by a rope. The boat thenslowly made the inner circuit of the seine, the tuck being paid out anddeftly hooked at intervals to the larger net. Meanwhile the men in thethird boat beat the water with their oars, so as to scare the fish intothe middle of the enclosure.

  Now came the most exciting moment of the day. The cliff-top all roundthe bay was dark with spectators. Small boys, eager to get in front,dodged and shoved among the legs and skirts of their elders. Thevillage blacksmith was there; cobblers with bent backs and leatheraprons; tinkers, tailors, wheelwrights, carpenters, ploughmen,dairymaids, old men with sticks and crutches, old women who couldscarcely totter, mothers with babies in their arms: all were agog withexcitement to see the final act. Sam Pollex was there, and when hecaught sight of the parlourmaid of the Dower House he sidled up to herelbow, listened with delight to her exclamations of "My gracious!" "Look'ee see, now!" "Lawk-a-massy me!" and by-and-by ventured to instruct herignorance of the movements passing below.

  With the shouts of the boys were now mingled the deeper tones of theseiners as, ranged in a row in their boat, they began to haul on thetuck, calling "Yo, heave ho!" in time with their rhythmic movements."Pull away, boys!" shouts the huer; "Yo-hoy!" scream the boys. "Up shecomes! Look at 'em! Look at 'em!" The water eddies like a mill-race;in the midst is seen a heaving mass of gleaming scales; and from roundthe point come boats of all sizes, which range themselves in a circleabout the shoal. Men lean over the sides, dip their baskets, lift themfull of shining fish, empty them into the boats, and dip them again formore. Soon they stand ankle deep in pilchards, and when the boats sinkto the gunwales, they are rowed away to the jetty, where men are waitingwith shovels and barrows, ready to carry the fish to the salting-house.

  Dick Trevanion was among the spectators. He never missed the first haulof the season. But to-day he was acutely conscious of a change. Lastyear the villagers had greeted him with smiles and cheery words; to-daythey lowered their eyes, passed him in silence, and edged away from himas he moved from place to place. He could not but feel bitterly hisisolation. Why did they so misjudge him? He had not changed: he knewwell that, in any ordinary contest between the smugglers and the revenueofficers, his sympathy would have been with the former; friendly as hewas with Mr. Mildmay, he would enjoy nothing better than thatgentleman's discomfiture, if it were due to fair means and thevillagers' wits. Yet, because he had intervened to prevent harm to anold man, he was now regarded by the villagers as their enemy, one whowould descend to play the mean part of spy and informer.

  With gloomy face he turned away and walked back along the promontory.At the end he met Mr. Carlyon, who had just ridden up on his cob. Theparson's ruddy face was suffused with cheerfulness; he knew by thejubilant shouts of the crowd that the catch was a good one, and rejoicedthat his parishioners were winning from the deep their means ofsubsistence for the winter. He marked Dick's clouded face, and,guessing the occasion of it, he tried to cheer him.

  "Come, Dick," he said genially, "cheer up, my lad; this haul will putthe folk in a good temper, and they will forget their grudge againstyou."

  "I hope they will, sir," replied Dick, "but there's one man
who'll tryto keep them in mind of it."

  "You mean your cousin?"

  "Yes."

  "But surely he'll not be such a cur. He's a scoundrel--there now, whatam I saying? I'll tackle him, my boy. Why, bless my soul, he was inchurch on Sunday, and my text was 'Love your neighbour as yourself.'I'll ride there now, and get him to give me some breakfast--though Idetest the fellow," he added in one of his unconscious asides.

  "He is away from home, I believe," said Dick.

  "Well, then, I'll put it off till another day, but tackle him I will.I've a bit of news, Dick. The carrier brought me some books last night;that's not the news, though. No. You have heard, maybe, of a Frenchmannamed Delarousse?"

  He looked slyly at Dick; everyone in Polkerran knew the name of theFrenchman with whom the smugglers had such close dealings.

  "As a natural enemy of our country I don't pity him," pursued theparson, "but as a--h'm--an honest free-trader I own I feel for him. Hisprivateer was badly knocked about in the Channel by a revenue cruiser aweek or two ago, and while she was being repaired, it appears that hetried to run a cargo at Polperro. As ill-luck would have it--dear me!I wonder if I ought to have said that," he added under his breath--"heran into the arms of the revenue people; they seized his lugger andcarried him to Plymouth, where he'll cool his heels for a time untilthey put him among the other French prisoners on Dartmoor."

  "Do they know it in the village yet, sir?"

  "Probably not; the carrier was going straight on to Newquay; he hadnothing for us except my books. But you may be sure the folk will soonknow all about it. The carrier had a glass of brandy with Petherick,and Petherick, as you know, is the biggest gossip in the parish. Hisbrandy is better than mine, the dog! I must ask him where he gets it."

  Dick could not help smiling at the parson's unconscious self-revelation.

  "That's right; you're feeling better, I see," said Mr. Carlyon cheerily."Now I'll go on and bespeak my basket. Pilchards of the first catch arethe daintiest dish I know. 'Tis a holiday to-day, but I shall see youto-morrow. Good-bye."

  He rode on. Dick turned to watch him, and saw Sam Pollex walking besidethe maid-servant of the Dower House. When Sam observed his young masterhe left the girl and came sheepishly towards him.

  "I've been tellin' to she the hows and whys of it, Maister Dick," saidhe.

  "Indeed."

  "Iss, I have. Bein' a furriner, she be 'mazin simple for such awell-growed female. She axed me why I never brought no more eggs."

  "And what did you say?"

  "Well, not likin' to hurt her feelings, I telled her our hens beuncommon idle lately, and she said she knows they do have fits that waysometimes. Maister John's gone to Lunnon, to buy things for his mine."

  "I wish he'd stay there."

  "Her name be Susan."

  "Quite a common name."

  "She's as nice a female as ever I've seed."

  The pilchard fishing was for several days so engrossing an occupationthat the villagers had no time for fostering their grievance against theTowers. Dick and Sam, who had formerly been in the thick of it,sometimes as spectators merely, occasionally as participators, keptaway, and spent the greater part of their time in fishing quietly somefew miles up the coast. One day Dick reverted to the project of huntingseals, which he had temporarily abandoned, partly through the diversionafforded by the discovery of the well, partly because he did not care tokill the parent seals while their offspring were so young. Now, however,the prospect of sport, and the practical wish to obtain a sealskin forhis mother, made him resolve to try his luck in the cave, and he laidhis plans in consultation with the ever-ready Sam.

  He guessed that the seals left the cave at low tide to find food in thedeep, and returned when the sea flowed in. Since the cave was at suchtimes inaccessible from the sea, he decided that it must be approachedfrom the well, of which neither he nor Sam had now any remaining dread.One evening they sallied towards it, carrying a well-made rope-ladder, amusket apiece, a large hammer, and several torches, which would givemore light than the ancient candle-lantern they had formerly carried.To one end of the rope-ladder they had attached a series of stoutmeat-hooks borrowed from old Reuben: they could more confidently trusttheir safety to a number of teeth gripping the rock than to the singlefluke of their small boat anchor. They had timed their start so thatthey would reach the cave just as the tide turned.

  It was a dull, murky evening, with a touch of autumn rawness in the air.Twilight had not quite merged into darkness when they arrived at theruined chapel at the well-head. They looked warily around to make surethat their presence was not observed, then prepared to descend.

  "'Tis rayther fearsome," murmured Sam, as he looked into the blackshaft. Now that he was on the spot, the tradition of ghostliness inwhich he had been brought up revived something of his former fears.

  "Nonsense," said Dick, "we have laid the ghost for ever, Sam. I will godown first. Don't follow until I come to the door. I will whistle foryou. When you hear me, fling down the ladder and the hammer. At asecond whistle, come yourself."

  Sticking a lighted candle-end into his hatband, and slinging the musketover his shoulder, he stepped backward into the well, and began thedescent. He found the successive staples entirely by the sense oftouch, the candle throwing a deep shadow below him. At first he felt alittle nervous, but gathered confidence after a few steps, and made thelatter part of the descent very quickly.

  Sam, waiting above, heard a whistle, curiously prolonged by itsreverberations from the walls. He threw down the hammer, and gave aninvoluntary start when he heard it thud upon the bottom. The ladderfollowed, and the unkindled torches; then, without lighting a candle forhis own hat, he stepped over the brink, muttering to himself:

  "S'pose I fall! But I won't. S'pose I do though. But Maister Dickdidn't. S'pose _I_ do. Well, if 'tis to be, 'tis, so I med as well gocheerful."

  In reality he descended more quickly than Dick had done. They gatheredup their burdens, and made their way by the light of Dick's candle alongthe passage until they came to the ledge overlooking the cave.

  Here they stopped and peered over. The tide was rather lower than theyhad expected. Their eyes ranged the cave for a time without discoveringany sign of the seals. Then Dick lit a torch, and holding it over thedark space beneath, he suddenly saw two orbs of light, like the eyes ofa monstrous cat, in a far corner to the right of him. Moving along theledge in that direction, he descried two seals, greyish in colour, andmuch larger than he had supposed them to be, lying on a rock, with thetwo young ones between them.

  "We will only kill one, Sam," he whispered, "and I hope 'twill be thefather."

  The seals were apparently fascinated by the glare of the torch, for theymade no movement, their eight eyes glowing like balls of fire. In orderto obtain more light upon his task, Dick kindled two more torches, andstuck all three into crevices of rock in such a way that theyilluminated the whole corner of the cave where the seals lay. But nowthe animals had caught sight of him, and as if instinctively realisingthat the intruder was an enemy, they scrambled with clumsy movements offthe rocks into the water.

  "They be goin' out to sea, scrounch 'em!" whispered Sam, whose attitudeto all prospective victims was an indignant surprise that they did notwait meekly for their doom.

  But the seals, after swimming a yard or two, took up their positionbehind a larger boulder, above which the tops of their sleek, massiveheads could just be seen.

  "We shall have to go down to them, Sam," said Dick.

  "They be great big creatures," said Sam dubiously. "Wi' those terriblebig flappers they could smite us flat as flounders."

  "You had better take the hammer in case I miss and they attack us. Wemust at any rate prevent one of them from getting away."

  They retreated to the further end of the ledge, to which the light oftheir torches scarcely reached, and carefully hooked the ladder to thejagged rock. Then in perfect silence they descended. The water
onlycame to their knees. Wading through it with scarcely more noise than anotter might have made, they drew gradually nearer to the rock behindwhich the seals had sheltered. Here they found themselves baulked. Therock was close to the wall, and it was impossible to get a shot at theanimals without circumventing it, which appeared to Dick a dangerousmovement. The surprising quickness with which the seals had shuffledoff their former perch showed that, if a shot failed, they might flingtheir heavy bodies upon the assailants before they could escape. He wasconsidering what to do, when a movement among the seals forced him toact on the instant. The largest of the creatures heaved itself to thetop of the rock, and lay there as if on the watch for the enemy,presenting the side of its head to Dick. He raised his musket, afirelock of ancient type, and fired. The reverberations in the hollowvault were broken in upon by a hoarse roar, and through the cloud ofsmoke the seal slid over the rock into the water, and came swimmingtowards the two boys. Dick seized Sam's musket, preparing to fireagain; his first shot had only enraged the animal. But before he couldraise the weapon, the seal threw itself out of the water, and he hadjust time to spring aside and evade its onset. As it passed, itsflipper struck the musket from his grasp, and it fell with a splash intothe water.

  Sam, for all his fear of ghosts, was brave enough before a real enemy.He was standing a yard or two in Dick's rear. As the seal plungedheavily into the sea, Sam brought the hammer down with all his forceupon the creature's head. There was one tremendous convulsion of thewater, then the seal's movements ceased and it sank to the bottom.

  "AS THE SEAL PLUNGED INTO THE SEA, SAM BROUGHT HIS HAMMERDOWN."]

  Meanwhile, the other animals, scared by the noise, had flung themselvesinto the water, and were swimming towards the mouth of the tunnel.

  "Well done, young Sam!" said Dick. "You did that famously."

  "So I did, to be sure," replied Sam, "but I couldn' help it. You shotun, Maister Dick; see his blood."

  There was a red tinge upon the water.

  "How are we to get him up?" said Dick. "He's a monstrous big fellow."

  "We'll wait till tide is down and skin him here. Be his body good toeat?"

  "That I don't know; we can try. But the skin is the valuable part ofhim, and having that we may leave the rest."

  In two hours the receding tide had left the dead seal on the sand. Theboys took out their knives, and, expert in such work, in anotherhalf-hour had removed the skin. Their torches were by this time burninglow, so they clambered up to the ledge, and carried their implements andbooty as quickly as possible through the adit to the foot of the well,and then up to the surface.

  Vastly pleased with the success of their expedition they set off towardshome. The night was very dark, and a thin rain was falling, whichincreased as they proceeded, until it became a steady downpour. Theywere tired; their burdens, light enough when they started from home, nowseemed to be pounds heavier; the rain beat full in their faces, findingout every crevice between their clothes and their skin; and the groundwas rough, covered here with tussocks of grass that squelched undertheir tread, there with fragments of mining gear which threatened totrip them up. They trudged on in silence, feeling the loneliness andthe inclemency of the weather the more keenly because it ensued upon thehigh excitement of their adventure.

  As they struck into the path leading by Penwarden's cottage, Samsuddenly declared that he saw a flicker of light to their left, somedistance across the moor.

  "I can't see it," said Dick, scarcely looking in the directionindicated, "and it doesn't matter to us. I'm tired; this skin is heavy;I want to get home."

  "'Tis moving," said Sam a moment later. "Maybe 'tis Maister John comin'back from Lunnon."

  "He wouldn't come that way. I see it now; 'tis some belated traveller,no doubt."

  "But the light bean't on the road; 'tis too far away."

  "Never mind about the light," Dick replied, testily. "Come along."

  They soon came to one of John Trevanion's new fences, which compelledthem to leave the path and seek the high road. In his moody frame ofmind Dick resented this bitterly. They now perceived that the light,spread starwise by the rain, was much nearer to them, and presentlyheard the creaking of wheels and the dull thud of horses' hoofs on theturf. A minute after they had struck the road a closed travellingcarriage, drawn by two horses, turned into it from a byway, scarcelymore than a bridle path. On the right of the driver there was a singlelamp. Catching sight of the two figures on the road, bending forwardunder their loads, the driver hailed them and pulled up his horsesbeside them.

  "Hi! can 'ee tell me if this be the right road for Polkerran?" he asked.

  "Iss, fay, right for'ard," answered Sam.

  "And where be the Five Pilchards?"

  "Down-along through village. Better mind the hill, if you be afurriner, 'cos 'tis 'nation steep and twisty."

  "So be they all, od rake it."

  Here another voice interposed, and a head showed itself dimly at thecarriage window.

  "Vill you--ah! how say it!--vill you embark on ze--ze coach, and, if youplease, show ze road?"

  "Drat it all, why will 'ee talk?" cried the driver. "Put yer headinside, for gospel sake. Come up beside me, friends, if you'll do akindness, and say the word when I do come to the hill. I don't want tobreak hosses' knees nor my own neck."

  The boys, glad enough to get a lift, mounted beside the driver, with atingling curiosity about the passenger inside who spoke in so strange anaccent. It was not far to the Towers, and when they came to it Dickasked the driver to stop, and bade Sam get down and carry the sealskinand his share of the other burdens to the house.

  "You bean't a fisher?" said the driver to Dick as Sam was descending.There was a note of anxiety in his voice.

  "I fish, but I'm not what you would call a fisher."

  "I knowed it by your speech. Well, then, I won't trouble 'ee, sir, thismizzly night," said the man, with some eagerness.

  "No trouble at all. 'Tis not very far."

  "Well, 'twas to be," muttered the coachman. Dick thought it was an oddthing to say. Still more surprised was he when the driver leant overand extinguished the candle-flame with his fingers. "You see," heexplained, "the gentleman inside is terrible bad, met with an accident,as 'a med say."

  "Bring him to our house, then," said Dick instantly; "my mother will bepleased to do something for him."

  "Not for gold and di'monds," replied the man quickly. "No, we go toFive Pilchards; 'tis a good enough inn, I've heerd tell."

  Dick said no more. He wondered who the stranger was, and what broughthim to Polkerran, where visitors were rare. The carriage rumbled onslowly; every now and then the driver made the horses walk, though theroad here was level. It seemed to Dick that his attitude and mannerwere those of a man intently listening.

  They came to the spot where a short drive led from the road to the DowerHouse, which could just be discerned, a black mass in the rain. "Thatvillain has not returned, then," thought Dick, seeing no light in thehouse.

  At this moment there came upon their ears the clattering sound ofseveral horses from the foot of the hill which they had nearly reached.The driver jerked his horses to a standstill, looked from side to side,and seeing the carriage-drive, to which there was no gate, wheeled thehorses round and drove in, not on the hard road, but on the borderinggrass.

  "This is a private road," said Dick, wondering.

  "'Twas my thought. These be ticklish times for travellers, and 'tisbest not to meet strange riders in the dark. I'll bide till they bepast, and then go on again."

  He drew up under the trees about forty yards along the drive, within afew yards of the house. Dick heard him breathing heavily. Theclattering of hoofs drew nearer: the driver seemed to hold his breath;then, when the horsemen had passed the end of the drive at a fast trot,he heaved a sigh of relief. He waited until the sounds had died away inthe distance, and wheeled the horses round. There was not room on thegrass for the carriage to tu
rn completely, and the wheels made acrunching sound on the pebbly road. The side of the carriage was stillturned to the house when the door opened, and John Trevanion appeared onthe threshold, holding a candle above his head, and peering into thedark.