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

by Herbert Strang

  CHAPTER THE EIGHTEENTH

  A High Dive

  The failure of their carefully-laid plan afflicted the smugglers with anumbness of dismay and stupefaction, and robbed them of all power toappreciate the success of the trick played on the revenue officers.Tonkin bitterly reproached himself for leaving the shipment of Penwardento Doubledick and undertaking the seizure of John Trevanion's guests.Moreover, honest and simple-minded as he was, a tiny seed of suspicionwas beginning to germinate in his mind. Before John Trevanion camehome, the freighting had been done by Tonkin on a modest scale inco-operation with Delarousse. Now, however, John Trevanion had takenthe lead. For some reason, which none knew, and only Doubledicksuspected, he had thrown over Delarousse, and did business with a rivaland enemy of his in Roscoff. Having more capital than Tonkin, whoserecent losses had indeed been crippling, he could buy more largely andemploy more men, so that Tonkin found himself in a position of gallingsubordination. As Trevanion had said to Doubledick, the big man did notcare to play second fiddle. He was beginning to wonder whether thejovial master of the Dower House was quite so good a friend as heseemed.

  The escape of Penwarden was a blow, the more crushing because somysterious. After church on Sunday, Tonkin and his fellows foregatheredwith the tub-carriers in the Five Pilchards, where Mrs. Doubledickattended to them in her husband's absence. The young farm labourers hadbeen in complete ignorance of the presence of Penwarden behind thestacked barrels. His projected deportation was the secret of Tonkin anda few trusty friends, who knew better than to run the risk of beingbetrayed by an informer. They were still anxious to guard their secret,and being unable to discuss the matter freely in the presence of thecarriers, they made themselves so unpleasant that the latter presentlybetook themselves in dudgeon to the Three Jolly Mariners. But even whenthe important people had the taproom of the Five Pilchards tothemselves, they were at a loss. In Doubledick's absence no light couldbe thrown on the mystery.

  "Do 'ee know wheer yer man be, Mistress?" asked Tonkin of the gauntwoman behind the bar.

  "I do not," she replied, "but 'a will come home-along in a day or two,to be sure. He loves his home, does Doubledick."

  "Well, you ought to know, if anybody."

  "Hey, my sonnies," said a voice at the door, and Petherick entered. "Ibe come to jine ye in yer laughter and merrymakin'."

  "Then you be come the wrong road," said Tonkin gloomily. "We bedowncast and dismal."

  "Ay, mumchanced and mumblechopped," added Nathan Pendry.

  "You do surprise me! Never did I see anything that tickled my ribs somuch as they two King's servants lashed to the holy bell. I don't carewho the man is, 'twas a merry notion. But good now! I know what yerdark thoughts be. 'T'ud make angels weep and wail, so 'twould. Tothink that Cuby's ghost will walk never more!"

  "Oh, Cuby's ghost be jowned! If ye do know anything, tell it outwithout hawkin' and spettin', constable," said Tonkin.

  "Well, neighbour Doubledick be a lost soul this day, that's sartin,"said Petherick.

  "My Billy be dead!" shrieked Mrs. Doubledick, sinking into a chair androcking herself to and fro.

  "No, no, Mistress," said Petherick. "It bean't gone so far as that.Dry yer eyes, woman. He bean't a corp, 's far 's I do know, but neverwill ye see un again, no, never."

  "Name it all, constable, don't spin it out so long," said Nathan Pendry."Put the 'ooman out of her misery."

  "Well, I will. Neighbour Doubledick be this day in Rusco."

  "Dear life!" exclaimed Mrs. Doubledick.

  "How do 'ee know that, constable?" asked Tonkin.

  "I heerd it all wi' my own ears. Seems as if Joe Penwarden was to go,but the voyage wer too much for his old aged stummick, so he and youngTrevanion sent neighbour Doubledick instead."

  He then repeated what he had overheard at the window of the Parsonage,his audience listening in wrath and amazement.

  "So ye see," he concluded, "he dussn't show his face hereabouts again,for they two will swear to him afore Sir Bevil, and neither might norpower can save un. Seems to me as ye've met your match in youngSquire."

  This opened the floodgates of rage, and the room rang with execrationsand threats of vengeance. At last Tonkin declared that he would sail toRoscoff next day, hear Doubledick's version of the matter, and learnwhether the innkeeper himself admitted the impossibility of returningfrom his exile. Meanwhile he bound all those present not to disclosetheir knowledge of what had happened. He felt that the ignominiousfailure of the scheme would make them all a laughing-stock, which wasespecially to be avoided now that a score of miners had been importedinto the village by John Trevanion. The men loyally kept the secret,even Petherick restraining his gossiping tongue, for he had a wholesomefear of Tonkin.

  Next morning, therefore, Tonkin sailed away in his own lugger, beatingout against a stiff breeze. An hour or two later, Mr. Mildmay paid avisit in the cutter to the scene of the night's events, seized the tubsstill left in the smugglers' den, broke up the windlass, and blocked upthe tunnel leading to the well.

  Next afternoon Dick and Sam launched their boat, and sailed out to fishat some distance from the point of the Beal. Meeting them on the cliff,Penwarden advised them to keep their eye on the weather. The sky wasthreatening, and the boat, while safe enough on a calm sea, had notproved her capacity to ride out a storm.

  Sam appeared to be in low spirits. Usually talkative, he had scarcelyspoken to Dick on the way from the house, and had indeed not beenvisible since breakfast time.

  "What's the matter, Sam?" said Dick, as he sat at the tiller, noticingthe boy's gloomy face as he rowed to assist the sail.

  "Nawthin'," replied Sam curtly.

  "But there is. Your face is as long as a fiddle. Something must haveupset you. What is it?"

  "Well, if I must tell, I will. My poor heart be broke."

  "That's bad. What broke it?"

  "The Mistress."

  "My mother! What has she done?"

  "'Tis not what she does, but what she says. Oh! 'tis terrible hard forpoor folks in this world."

  "I agree with you. We are all pretty poor at the Towers."

  "That's why I feel it. Some poor folks can have noble raiment, otherscan't, and drown me if I can see the why and wherefore."

  "Don't talk rubbish."

  "'Tis not rubbish. Hevn't Mistress got a fine new sealskin coat?Didn't she wear it to church yesterday? Didn't she look like a queen,and make all the women's eyes open as wide as saucers? And there wasMaidy Susan, poor young thing, lookin' as plain as a sparrer besideher."

  "Well, you wouldn't expect to see a servant-maid as fine as the Squire'swife."

  "Iss, I would so, when her might be. I showed they silks and satins toMistress, and telled her I had broughted 'em for Maidy Susan. 'No,indeed,' says she; 'quite unsuitable for a girl in her station o' life.''Why for, please 'm?' says I. 'Because I say so,' says she; 'I neverheerd o' sech a thing.' Be-jowned if I can see why. Pretty things befitty for pretty females, and I don't care who the man is, Maidy Susanwould look as fine in 'em as Mistress do in her noble sealskin."

  "Fine feathers don't make fine birds, they say," remarked Dick with asmile.

  "No, nor fine coats don't make old women young and pretty. They onlymake 'em look fatter."

  "Sam, don't be impudent."

  "Bean't impedence, leastways, not meant for sech, as you know well. Itbe truth," insisted Sam. "Can 'ee deny it? I axe 'ee, bean't Susan apretty maid?"

  "She is, I own."

  "Well, then, there you are."

  This appeared to Sam a clinching argument. Dick laughed.

  "I'll speak to Mother," he said. "Perhaps she will let Susan have alittle silk for high days and holidays. But you know the story of thejackdaw that dressed up as a peacock and was pecked to death by thepeacocks it went amongst?"

  "Never heerd o't, and I don't believe it. Peacocks be sech sillymortals. Howsomev
er, if ye'll speak to Mistress I'll say no more, forshe'll do whatever you tell her."

  By this time they were far out in the bay. They cast their linesoverboard, and caught one or two flat fish; but sport being very slow,and the wind increasing in force, after about an hour they decided toreturn.

  Another boat, meanwhile, had put out for the same purpose. It containedJake Tonkin and Ike Pendry. The two boats passed within a few yards ofeach other.

  "Afeard of a capful o' wind," said Jake with a sneer to his companion,loud enough to be heard on the other boat.

  "Ay, they'll 'eave up afore they get ashore," rejoined Pendry.

  Dick paid no attention to them. Running in behind the Beal, whichsheltered him from the wind, he found the sea in Trevanion Bay so calmthat he began to wonder whether he had not been over-hasty in puttingback. They landed, moored the boat, and carried their meagre catch tothe Towers.

  "They may jeer," said Dick, as he steadied himself against the wind,which on the cliff-top blew with the force of half a gale, "but they'llrun in themselves pretty soon, you'll see."

  Having handed the fish to Reuben, they left the house again, and madetheir way along the Beal, somewhat curious to see how the twofisher-lads were faring. Jake's boat, an old tub, as crazy as that ofDick's which had been destroyed, was tossing and rolling in a way thatmust have rendered fishing a very uncomfortable occupation.

  "They're a couple of jackasses," said Dick. "The wind is getting upevery minute. Look at that! That gust nearly capsized them."

  "I reckon they be showing off," said Sam. "Ah! they're putting backarter all, and 'twas time."

  The boat's head was turned for home. Dick and Sam walked to the end ofthe promontory, whence the sea on both sides was in full view.

  "'Twill be a noble sight to see 'em cross the reef," said Sam.

  "Oh, they won't try that," said Dick. "The tide is too low. You cansee the rocks every now and again through the breakers. They will makefor the fairway."

  The wind was now blowing with terrific force, the gusts smiting theboys, exposed as they were, like the fists of some unseen giganticboxer. They kept their feet with difficulty. Sam's hat was whirledaway, and rolled and bounded along the Beal at the speed of a hare. Thesurface of the sea was broken by innumerable little white ridges, and atintervals one of these was seen to be the crest of a huge wave, whichreared itself, and before it fell was torn into shreds of spindrift.

  Jake Tonkin's boat ran clear of the headland towards the harbour, and,having got what he apparently considered to be sufficient sea-room, hehoisted his lug-sail, and steered direct for the fairway. It seemed tothe two watchers on the Beal that the wind had been maliciously awaitingthis opportunity of mischief. A more than usually fierce gust rippedthe sail loose; the boat staggered, spun round, and drifted broadside tothe sea. The two lads in her seized their oars, and after greatexertion brought her head once more towards the shore. But in a fewmoments one of them started baling, then resumed the oars, only to shipthem almost instantly afterwards and bale out again.

  When the sail was carried away, the boat was about a third of a milefrom the spot on which Dick and Sam stood. Her progress towards theharbour had been extraordinarily slow, though the wind was behind her.Dick guessed that she had sprung a leak, and when the baling becamecontinuous, he realised the extreme peril of her occupants. Everymoment she was in danger of being swamped. He watched with excitement,not unmixed with anxiety. She drew gradually nearer, but with a sluggishheaviness of movement that bespoke her water-logged condition. Anothertwenty or thirty yards would bring her within the shelter of the reef,in which case the danger of being swamped would be over, unless the leakgained upon the lad energetically baling.

  A shout from the left drew Dick's attention towards the jetty. Thelads' plight had been perceived, and a large boat, manned by a crew offour, was pulling off to their assistance. If they could hold their ownfor five more minutes they would be taken off. But just as Dick, thuscalculating the chances, turned from this momentary glance shorewards towatch the labouring boat again, a great wave broke over her, shedisappeared, and the lads with her.

  A quick look round, then Dick dropped to the ground, unlaced his boots,drew them off, and flung off his coat.

  "Go to our den, Sam," he cried, "and fling over the two barrels we usefor chairs."

  "You be never going to----"

  But Sam's protest was unheeded and almost unheard. Dick was clamberingdown the steep face of the cliff. The fisher-lads could not swim;scarcely a man in Polkerran was more skilled than they; and it was plainthat unless assistance came to them at once they must be drowned, forthe boat, pulling out against wind and wave, could not reach them intime.

  Thirty feet above the sea, and almost exactly over the spot where theboat had capsized, there was a narrow ledge. As a swimmer Dick wasself-taught. He usually plunged into the sea from a rock a few feetabove the surface; the dive he now prepared to take was at least fivetimes as great as he had ever attempted before. Fortunately the fairwaywas clear of rocks, although the waves beat roughly against the almostperpendicular cliff. A momentary hesitation, then Dick dived off. Hetook the water cleanly, but, somewhat dazed by the violence of theshock, he went far deeper than a practised diver would have done. Tohimself, as to Sam, gazing at him horror-stricken from above, it seemeda terribly long time before he shot up to the surface.

  But he emerged at last. Shaking the water from his eyes, he lookedround for signs of the fisher-lads. Within twelve yards of him he sawthe boat, bottom upwards, and a boy clinging to the rudder. A gust ofwind whipped the spindrift into Dick's eyes; for some moments he couldsee nothing more. But then, five or six yards away, between the boat andthe cliff, he caught sight of an arm rising from the sea, only todisappear instantly. He struck out for the spot. In a few seconds adark mass surged up almost beside him. Another stroke or two enabledhim to get a grip upon it before it could sink again. Fortunately bothfor the drowning lad and his rescuer, the former was by this timeunconscious. In the rough sea that tumbled about him Dick could scarcelyhave fought against the struggles of a frantic man. In a trice heturned the lad face upward, and, firmly grasping his collar with onehand, swam on his back with his legs and one free arm. Surely he couldhold out until the boat came up! He heard the shouts of the men and thesplash of the oars; it could not be far away.

  There was a danger that he might be swept by the waves against thefrowning cliff, and knocked senseless. To avoid this, he struck outfuriously towards the middle of the fairway, where the empty barrelsthrown down by Sam were floating. In a calm sea his strength mighteasily have endured the fatigue of supporting a dead weight, but he knewthat he was being conquered by the tumbling waves, and the blinding,choking spray that swept over him, it seemed without intermission.Again and again he felt that he could never regain his breath. Thestruggle to do so weakened him far more than the muscular exertion. Thedreadful conviction seized him that he, too, was drowning. But his gripnever relaxed; even when a dazed and helpless feeling came over him, hekept the lad's collar firmly in his clutch. Then he was dimly consciousof a quiet restfulness and content; and Sam, in frantic terror above,saw his movements cease, and felt an agonising certainty that his youngmaster was lost.

  When Dick came to himself, he found himself lying in the bottom ofNathan Pendry's boat, within a few yards of the jetty. The rescuers hadcome up in the nick of time. Dick and the lad he had saved were hauledinto the boat together, and the fingers of the former were so tightlyclenched that for some time it was impossible to separate the two. Theoverturned craft had drifted within a few yards of the cliff, and theother boy still clung to it. He was taken aboard, and meanwhile two ofthe men used all the means they knew to restore the others toconsciousness. Without waiting to secure the capsized boat, they pulledwith all speed for the jetty, which was thronged with village folk, whomthe news of the accident had brought in hot haste from their houses.

  The dripping lads w
ere taken out and carried to the inn, where Mrs.Doubledick had made up a roaring fire, and had blankets and hot brandyawaiting them. Sam, pale as a sheet, forced his way through the crowdat the door towards his master.

  "Oh, 'tis good to see 'ee safe!" he cried, almost hugging Dick. "Hev'ee swallered much?" he asked anxiously.

  Dick was too weak to reply. He began to laugh childishly, for within afew feet of him, swathed in a steaming blanket, sat his old enemy, JakeTonkin, even more feeble than himself.

  "'Twas him ye did it for!" cried Sam indignantly. "No one could ha'blamed 'ee if ye'd let the villain drown."

  Dick shook his head.

  "Now, young Sam Pollex," cried Mrs. Doubledick, "you be off! MaisterTrevanion don't want 'ee kiddlin' and quaddlin' about when he do feelbad. Just pick up his clothes out o' that plosh o' water and spread 'emon this chair-back. Then go. We'll send him home-along in a cart or awheelbarrow when he's better."

  "Daze me if I go, Mistress!" cried Sam. "Here I bide till Maister beable to shail along, so I tell 'ee."

  "Let the chiel bide," said Nathan Pendry. "They be like two twains ineverything, mischief and all, and they 'm best not parted."

  "Iss, fay, my brother Ben was twain to me," said Simon Mail, "and 'aquenched away when they took un from me."

  "Why, dear life now, neighbour Mail," cried Mrs. Doubledick, "bean't ittrue, then, that yer brother Ben was shot in the nuddick at some greatbattle in Egypt, or other furrin land?"

  "True, he was; but he couldn't ha' been if he hadn't been parted fromI."

  "A-course not, ye chucklehead!" said Mrs. Doubledick. "If ye hadn'tbeen parted he would ha' been talkin' foolishness along with 'ee now.Off ye go now, neighbours all. The lads will do better wi'out ye, andthere bean't no need to send over to Redruth for a doctor."

  "I wish 'ee well, Maister Trevanion," said Pendry as he went out. "Usdo hate 'ee like p'ison, that's true; but I don't care who the man is,'twas a brave deed, and that I'll stand by, so theer!"

  The village folk were somewhat divided in their opinion as to theirfuture attitude towards the inmates of the Towers. The better sort, ofwhom Nathan Pendry may be taken as a representative, were so much struckby Dick's rescue of Jake, that their feelings underwent a change. Theywere not at first very ready to show their altered sentiments openly,but the leaven was beginning to work. If Dick, who had been so muchpersecuted, they argued, had the generosity to risk his life on behalfof one of those who had most injured him, it was hardly credible that heshould really be the spy and informer he was suspected of being.Others, however, would not agree that the family was less open tosuspicion, so far as smuggling was concerned, because of a single pluckyact. Their view was supported by John Trevanion, who, having heard ofthe incident, took care to drop seeds of depreciation in the ears ofsuch of the fishers as he encountered here and there.

  The former party received a notable accession on the evening of therescue. Isaac Tonkin returned home. The first person he met when heset foot on the jetty was Nathan Pendry, who told him what had happenedin his absence. Tonkin was so much surprised at the news that he didnot wait to give an account of his discoveries in Roscoff, but hurriedat once to his house, where, as Pendry had told him, Jake had been putto bed.

  "Be ye feelin' bad, my sonny?" he said with rough tenderness, leaningover the boy.

  "Not so bad as I did in the water, Feyther," Jake replied.

  "'Tis good to hear, my son. You be safe as a trippet, right enough.And 'twas young Squire saved 'ee! Well, there's norra man in the wholeparish could ha' done it. I reckon ye gied un a proper word o' thanks?"

  Jack did not reply.

  "Did 'ee hear what I axed 'ee? A-course ye gied young Squire a goodword for 's kindness? Did 'ee, or did 'ee not?"

  "I didn'."

  "Ye didn'! And why not?"

  "Never did it come into my head."

  "Well, it better come into yer head now, and quick, or I'll have to dingit in. Pull on your clothes, and go up-along this minute to the Towers,and say as you be tarrible ashamed o' yerself for forgettin' to saythank 'ee. Get on with 'ee!"

  Jake had to get up there and then, and set off on his errand. He hadnot been gone five minutes before his father, who had been walkingrestlessly about, suddenly went down into his cellar and brought up akeg of brandy and a large canister filled with tobacco. Then he rappedon the wall, and hearing a faint "Hallo!" in answer, he shouted:

  "Be that you, Ike Pendry?"

  "Iss, 'tis I."

  "Come-along in; I want 'ee,"

  When the lad entered, Tonkin handed the keg and canister to him, saying:

  "Carr' them things up to Towers for me, my son. Axe for Squire, and tellun they be a present from Zacky Tonkin, go along now."

  Ten minutes after Ike started with his load, Tonkin, as restless asever, banged the table with his great fist, startling his meek littlewife, and cried:

  "Drown me if I don't do it!"

  "What, Zacky, my dear?"

  "Go up-along myself and thank young Squire. Name it all, hain't he savedour only boy, Betty? A man can't do less than say thank 'ee, I don'tcare who he is."

  He thrust on his hat, and set off in haste. At the top of the hill heovertook Ike, who, laden as he was, had walked slowly.

  "Stir your shanks, Ike," said he. "Here now, I'll take keg; you keepcanister."

  They went on together. At the Dower House they came up with Jake, whowas shambling along, feeling anything but comfortable at the thought ofthe impending interview.

  "What, slug-a-stump!" cried his father angrily. "Bean't theer yet?"

  "Seeming not," said Jake. "I be tired."

  "Well, my son, ye'll just step out a bit quicker, or I'll have to take aloan of the Squire's whip."

  All three now proceeded until they came to the Towers.

  "Be Squire to home, neighbour Pollex?" asked Tonkin of Reuben, whoopened the door.

  "Iss sure; but I reckon he don't want to see 'ee, Zacky Tonkin," repliedthe old man.

  "Maybe, but I want to see he, and ye can tell un so."

  Reuben departed. In a minute he returned.

  "Squire says ye're to step in," he said, sourly. "For me, I'd shet thedoor in yer face, and well you know why."

  Tonkin and his companions were led to the living room, where sat theSquire and his wife.

  "Well, Tonkin, what can I do for you?" said the Squire pleasantly.

  "Nawthin' as I know on, Squire, thank 'ee kindly. My respects, my lady."He turned his hat awkwardly between his hands. "The truth is, Squire,"he went on, "I b'lieve I'm the feyther or an ungrateful young feller. Ibe real vexed to think he didn' say a word o' thanks to Maister Dick forwhat he done for un, and he hev got to say it now, or I'll leather un.Med I see young Maister?"

  "Not to-night, Tonkin. I sent him to bed, and there he'll stay."

  "Then maybe ye'll carr' it for me, sir. Now Jake, make yer bob and sayyer say."

  Jake touched his forelock, but stood in lubberly silence.

  "What, can't 'ee find yer tongue? Now, hearken to me, and say what Isay. If you please, Squire----"

  "'If you please, Squire----'"

  "I be truly thankful----"

  "'I be truly thankful----'"

  "As Maister Dick saved me from being drownded."

  "'As Maister Dick saved me from being drownded.'"

  "Purticler as I didn' deserve it."

  "'Purticler as I didn' deserve it.'"

  "Good now! I mean it, sir, and so do he. And I've brought 'ee a keg ofcognac and a tin o' bacca--bought with honest money, Squire; and I axe'ee to take 'em as a little small offering from a man who's a feytherlike as you be."

  "Thank you, my man," said the Squire, his face kindling with pleasure."I appreciate your thanks, and so will Dick: and I shall appreciate yourgift, I assure you. Jake isn't much the worse for his ducking, I cansee."

  "And I hope Maister Dick bean't either," said Tonkin.

  "Not a bit. He'll be as
well as ever after a night's rest. Jake shouldlearn to swim, you know."

  "And I woll, if Maister Dick'll larn me," said Jake suddenly.

  "Well, I don't know about that," said the Squire, with a slight reservein his manner. "You see, there has been some feeling lately----"

  "See now, Squire," interrupted Tonkin bluntly, "answer me a plainquestion, man to man. Did you, or anybody belongin' to 'ee, ever spy orinform on we honest free-traders?"

  "That's a question you ought to be ashamed to put to me," said theSquire warmly. "Do you think a Trevanion would ever do such a thing?"

  "Well, no, I didn' think so till---- Howsomever, I'll say no more o'that. I axe yer pardon, and I hope ye'll let bygones be bygones, andthat's said honest."

  "With all my heart." The Squire extended his hand to the smuggler,whose grip made him wince.

  "That's brave and comf'able," said Tonkin. "And now I wish 'ee well,sir, and you, ma'am, and if so be as Maister Dick 'll larn Jake to swim,I'll be proud, and so will he."

  The Squire showed the three men out, and they returned home wellsatisfied with their interview. Tonkin was soon the centre of a group ofhis particular friends in the parlour of the Five Pilchards, to whom,after announcing that he would believe no more "'nation gammut," as heput it, about the Squire and his son, proceeded to relate the issue ofhis visit to Roscoff.

  "I hain't brought Doubledick back wi' me," he said. "For why? 'Cos hewarn't theer!"