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

by Herbert Strang

  CHAPTER THE TWENTIETH

  The Last Deal

  For a week or two there was a lull in events. One day the Squirereceived a letter from John Trevanion's attorney, demanding that heshould give up the property of his client which had been feloniouslyabstracted from the abandoned mine. The Squire swore, a rare occurrencewith him, and sent Dick with the letter to his own lawyer in Truro. Dickreturned with a piece of news that staggered his father. The attorneyhad died suddenly a few days before. He was the holder of the mortgageon the Towers and the Beal; it was almost certain that his executorswould demand payment of the advance. For the first time the Squire wasfaced with the absolute loss of his ancestral home. He waited some daysin torturing suspense: then the dread letter came. The amount of ahundred pounds must be paid within a month.

  The Squire had not even a hundred shillings to spare. In deep distressof mind he walked to Truro to consult another lawyer, and see whetherthe bond could not be renewed or transferred. He applied to a youngsolicitor who had recently set up business in the town, and whoundertook to do what he could. The Squire placed in his hands also theletter he had received from John Trevanion's attorney.

  A correspondence ensued between the two men of law, with great ingenuityof argument and ample quotation of authorities on both sides. It didnot terminate until the precise question in dispute was no longer ofimportance. Meanwhile the Squire retained the silks and satins.

  With the approach of Christmas the vigilance of Penwarden and hissuperiors became incessant. At that season there was a great demand allthrough the countryside for the wares of the free-traders, and unlessprecedent was to fail, many a bale and keg would be landed on the coastwithout paying dues to the King's Government.

  One dark night, Tonkin arrived in his lugger at Lunnan Cove, a few milessouth of the village, with a fine cargo freighted jointly by JohnTrevanion and himself. Contrary winds having delayed him, he arrivedseveral hours later than had been arranged, and found that thetub-carriers, evidently tired of waiting, had gone away. He dropped thetubs overboard in the usual manner, taking their bearings carefully, andreturned for them on the following night. To his surprise and bitterrage, when he explored the bottom with his creeps, a strong force oftub-carriers waiting on the shore, he failed to find a single tub of thecargo so carefully laid. All had vanished. If he had been on the spota few hours earlier, he would have seen them hoisted one by one into therevenue-boats, and conveyed to official sanctuary at St. Ives.

  The smugglers were furious. Some one must have betrayed them.Occasionally there were traitors among them, but rarely, for the fate ofan informer, if discovered, was of such a nature as to deter others.When they returned to the inn to drown their disappointment and talkover the occurrence, Doubledick shrugged.

  "What about yer fine friends at the Towers now, Zacky?" he said.

  "Good sakes! How could 'em know?" cried the exasperated fisher.

  "Oh, you simple soul! Didn' I see yer Jake a-fishin' along wi' youngSquire only yesterday?"

  "Rabbit it all! Do 'ee mean to say 'tis Jake that split? Why, daze me,the boy didn' know about it hisself, Doubledick; we kept it so close."

  "Well, I only tell 'ee what I seed. 'T 'ud be hard to b'lieve sech amiserable dirty thing o' Jake, I own it. In course he never done it,bein' a Tonkin; 'twas only my little bit o' fun. But I don't care whothe man is, they folks up at Towers hev turned preventives; norra one of'ee woll make me b'lieve different."

  "Dear life! Won't Maister John be in a gashly passion!" said SimonMail. "He had more nor you in it, Zacky, I b'lieve!"

  "Iss, fay, he did. Neighbour Doubledick loses least; 'tis a mercy for'ee, neighbour."

  "So 'tis, Zacky," said Doubledick. "Ah! I was right to bide quiet awhile arter that journey to France. But name it all, I bean't goin' tobide quiet for ever; I'll take a share in the next, be-jowned if Idon't, and I hope them above will gie us better luck."

  "Ay, Maister John will be in a rare passion," repeated Simon Mail. "Hebe spendin' money so free that 'twill be a blow to him, to be sure."

  "True," said Pendry, "and spendin' for the country, too. Do 'ee think,now, as Boney will come to these parts, neighbour Tonkin?"

  "I wouldn' think so myself, but you never can tell," replied Tonkin."'Tis a little small place, wi' no great riches to tempt un; but thatmay be a reason for 't. We've no forts nor cannons nor sojers to defendus, and Boney may choose the place according; 't 'ud be easier to landhere than at Weymouth, where the King and all his high generalssometimes be."

  "What I say is, Maister John be a fine feller," said Mail. "'Tidn'every gentleman as 'ud do what he be doin'. Why, he've had a dozen menfrom Trura riggin' up iron shetters to his winders, and a cart comet'other day wi' firelocks and pikes, and I seed him only yesterdaymarchin' his miners up and down in front o' the house, every man of 'emwi' a terrible weapon o' some sort; and when he shouted, up wentfirelock or pike, and seein' the guns all pointin' at me, I run off ashard as my poor legs 'ud move, for I didn' want to be hurted, not I."

  "Ay, and I seed Petherick goin' up to Dower House wi' a noble bell underhis arm," said Pendry, "and when I axed un about it, 'a telled me 'twasto rig up in the roof, to gie the word o' warnin' to the whole villageif Boney was spied wi' all his horses and men."

  "And what's more," added Mail, "he hev took three men-servants intohouse, purgy fellers they be too, so's to hev a army to lead agen theenemy. They'll eat a deal o' meat, they will, and sartin sure he'll bein a passion at losin' money over this crop."

  "Hee! hee!" laughed Doubledick. "It do make me laugh, neighbours, tothink o' Maister John leadin' a army agen Boney. I'll go up-alongto-morrer and see this practisin' wi' pikes and firelocks; 'twill do megood, hee! hee! They miners had better turn sojers out and out, forthey'll never get tin or copper enough out o' the earth to pay for theirkeep."

  Doubledick strolled up the hill next day, and stood with a look of keenenjoyment on his face as a score of miners drilled under Trevanion'sdirection. At the close of the exercise he accosted Trevanion.

  "'Tis a noble sperit, to be sure, Maister John," he said, "but daze meif I think yer new sojers and yer iron shetters will keep out Boney andhis thousands and millions. He's a tarrible feller, by all accounts."

  "'Tis every man's duty to defend his country so far as he is able," saidTrevanion coldly, beginning to move away.

  "Iss, sure," said Doubledick, keeping pace with him; "and it must cost'ee a tidy bit o' money. But I be afeard it bean't much good. Why now,s'pose 'twas not Boney, but one of his simple generals, or no sojer atall, but a plain feller like me--or like Delarousse, say. I say, s'poseDelarousse took it into his head to hev his revenge for the trade he'vea-lost, to wipe off old scores, as ye may say--jown me if he'd beflustered by a passel o' miners or a shetter or two. Howsomever, 'tisnot for me to say. Ye do know more about the arts o' warfare nor I, Ireckon."

  "Your tongue runs on, Doubledick," said Trevanion with a hollow laugh.His annoyance was plain to see: the fellow was presuming on the secretbetween them.

  "Iss, I be forgettin' what I come to say," said Doubledick. "The folksat the Towers be at their tricks again, seemingly."

  "If I knew it!" cried Trevanion furiously. "If you catch young Dick, orthat wretched follower of his, spying, I hope you'll take care theydon't do it again. You squared the officers on your own matter; can'twe keep them quiet on the trade?"

  "Ah! that's different. To jail me wouldn' put money in their pockets,like seizin' a cargo. I'm afeard 't 'ud take more nor the crop's worthto put 'em quiet on that, Maister. But there now! we allers do hev upsand downs; maybe the ups will beat the downs in the end."

  That Doubledick's philosophy was well founded was signally demonstrateda few days later. Though the loss in case of failure was severe, theprofit of a successful run was so high that success once in three timeswas accounted satisfactory. To recoup the recent loss another cargo wasfreight
ed in Roscoff, Trevanion, Tonkin, and Doubledick taking equalshares. The spot selected was the mouth of the little creek four milesnorth of the Towers, where Dick had launched his home-made boat. Only afew men, on whom the confederates placed absolute reliance, wereadmitted to the secret. The goods were run ashore in complete safety,and each of the three freighters pocketed a considerable profit.

  Elated by this success, another run was arranged a few dayssubsequently. In this Trevanion had the largest share, Tonkin rankingnext, Doubledick, Pendry, and Mail being involved to the extent of a fewpounds each. The place was changed, a small cove a little nearer thevillage on the south side being chosen. Mr. Mildmay had been called toa spot ten miles distant, and everything promised success. Tonkin'slugger anchored off the rendezvous, the goods were "rafted" ashore, andthe carriers had all shouldered their burdens, when a dash was made onthem by preventive men aided by a troop of dragoons, and, after a sharpfight, only one man got away with his tubs.

  John Trevanion never appeared on the scene of operations. He was alwayskept well informed as to the time and place of the runs, but it was hisconstant policy to remain in the background. On this occasion, when helearnt of the second failure within a week, he was exasperated beyondendurance. He rode down to the inn, stormed at the smugglers, and havinglearnt that Mr. Mildmay had been summoned away by his own arrangement,merely as a blind, he declared that either Jake Tonkin or Ike Pendry hadbetrayed him to Dick, with whom they now occasionally fished. Thisaccusation enraged the elder Tonkin, and the two men would haveproceeded from recriminations to blows, if Doubledick had not stepped inbetween them.

  A week passed. It was the Wednesday before Christmas Day. There hadbeen some hesitation among the smugglers, after the last failure,whether to venture on what was usually the most important run of theseason. At this time they found customers for their wares much furtherafield than usual. But the prospect of large profits, and the perpetualfascination of the trade, overcame their doubts and fears, and early onthis Wednesday morning, before it was light, Tonkin sailed off in the_Isaac and Jacob_ for Roscoff. Once more he had equal shares withTrevanion, no others being concerned in the run except as helpers.

  On Wednesday evening, Doubledick left the inn, and walked along thesouthward bank of the stream in the direction of the church. He hadleft word that he was going to see Petherick about a Christmas dinnerwhich the Vicar was accustomed to give to the children and young peopleof the parish, in a barn upon his glebe. He spent an hour or two withPetherick in his cottage near the church, received from him the Vicar'sorders for squab-pie (a hotch-potch of mutton, apples, onions andraisins, with sugar and seasoning), "figgy pudden" (which is Cornish forplum-pudding), and other delectables of the season, and having arrangedwith the sexton the commission to be paid him for passing on an orderwhich he could have placed with no one else, he drank a parting glassand started ostensibly for home. It was a fine night, moonless butclear, with that crisp coldness in the air that exhilarates. Instead ofwalking along the road by which he had come, Doubledick struck off tothe left into a lane that would bring him, after a long round, to thesouth cliff. There were no houses hereabouts, the church being at leasthalf a mile from the nearest dwelling.

  When the innkeeper came to the spot where the ground began to rise, hedid not turn to the right, along the path that led to the bridge overthe stream, and was the nearest way home, but trudged directly onward,puffing a little as he went higher. It was very dark, or he mightperhaps have seen a figure silently stalking him. Every now and againhe stopped to take breath and to glance in the direction of the village.At these times the shadowy figure dropped down behind a furze bush, andthere waited until Doubledick, with a grunt and sigh, again went on hisway.

  Presently he came to Mr. Polwhele's house on the cliff. He did not passit by, nor approach the front door, but stole to the window, where alight shone through the blind, and gently tapped at it. In a few momentsthe door opened. Mr. Polwhele's figure was for an instant silhouettedagainst the light from a hanging-lamp in the passage. Doubledickentered quickly, and the door was shut again.

  The silent form of the second man was motionless and invisible in thedarkness. But when the door was closed, it tip-toed swiftly across thegrass, and if a third person had been in the neighbourhood he might haveseen the head and shoulders of a fisher in strong relief against theilluminated blind. But there was no spectator. The fisher placed hisear against the glass, and remained in that posture for several minutes.Then he withdrew, muttering his disappointment, and posted himselfbehind a clump of gorse a few yards away, where he could keep his eye onthe door.

  "Well, Doubledick," said the riding-officer, when he had given hisvisitor a chair, "'tis to be, then?"

  "Iss, sir, and a big thing too. Maister Trevanion hev L200 ventured,and Tonkin the same."

  "And where is it to be this time?"

  "At the creek, sir, same as time afore last. They did so well then thatthey couldn' think of a better place, the den bein' broke up."

  "And when?"

  "Thursday night, or ye med say Friday mornin', accordin' to the wind."

  "They mean to run, and not to sink, I suppose?"

  "Iss, sure, sir. Next day bein' Christmas, ye see, they must hev thestuff carried off at once. I'd axe 'ee, sir, not to lay hands on themen; seize the tubs, in course, but I don't want 'ee to do any hurt tothe fellers."

  "Well, I'll do what I can; but you know what soldiers are. They've beenitching for months to fight Boney, and they want to keep their hand in,you know."

  "True, sir. Ah well! the carriers will run fast enough; 'tis only ZackyTonkin and the rest I be afeard for; they'll fight, 'tis sartin-sure."

  "You're a thorough-paced scoundrel, you know, Doubledick," said theriding-officer. "'Pon my word, if it weren't my duty to stop smugglingby hook or by crook, 'twould give me the greatest pleasure in life tosee you tarred and feathered. I warned you, you remember. You'll becaught one of these days, mark my words, and the money you're heaping upwon't save you then, my man."

  "Hee! hee!" laughed Doubledick uneasily. "Name it all, was there anyother way to save myself from jail? 'Tis a risk, I own it; it do gie methe creeps in the night sometimes when I think o't. And be-jowned, sir,when you gie me the L50 for this job, I'll pack up my traps and go intoother parts wi' my wife, and spend my old age in peace and quietness, ifshe'll let me. Ye won't stop me, sir?"

  "Not I. 'Tis dirty work, and I'd rather fight the trade fair andsquare, 'pon my word I would."

  "'Tis the last time, then, for me. And now I must be traipsin'home-along."

  Mr. Polwhele accompanied him to the door. On the step Doubledick turnedand said in low tones, his words, however, being distinct in the clearnight air:

  "Ye'll mind and not take Zacky, sir? I hain't no fancy forblood-money."

  "I'll do what I can. Good-night."

  He stood for a moment or two watching the innkeeper's receding form,then turned to re-enter the house. But it happened that, in the veryact of turning, he caught sight of a dark figure slinking away from afurze bush in Doubledick's wake. He slipped into the house, turned outthe lamps in the passage and the room, and in a quarter of a minute cameout again, the darkness completely veiling his movements. With swiftsteps he followed the two figures down the slope, drawing near to thesecond of them under cover of the bushes. Having assured himself thatDoubledick was being deliberately shadowed, he bent low, rapidly made acircuit, and concealed himself behind a clump which the stealthy pursuermust pass. As the man came abreast of him, wholly engrossed in keepingthe innkeeper in view, Polwhele suddenly sprang out, caught his victimby the throat so that he could utter no more than the faintest gurgle,and bore him to the ground. Then, whipping out his pistol, hewhispered:

  "If you make a sound I will shoot you. Get up and come with me."

  Keeping a firm hand on the fallen man's collar, he lugged him to hisfeet, marched him back to the house, and thrust him through the stillopen
door, which he bolted behind him.

  "So 'tis you, Jake Tonkin," he said, as he relit the lamp.

  "Iss, 'tis I. Let me go, Maister. Doubledick said 'twas I that split,the villain! Let me go. Scrounch me if the two-faced wretch don'tsuffer for this!"

  "I'm afraid I can't let you go yet, my son," said the riding-officer."Now 'tis no good kicking or shouting. Remain quiet, and in a day ortwo you shall go, safe and sound. If you give trouble I shall have todeal with you as your folk dealt with Penwarden."

  Jake sullenly submitted. Mr. Polwhele gave him supper, then locked himinto a room where the window was heavily barred.

  "I am sick of this," he thought, as he returned to his own room. "'Tiswell Doubledick is going, or, by George, there would be murder."

  Next morning Sam Pollex, going down to the village to buy some raisinsfor a plum-pudding, overtook Susan Berry, John Trevanion's housemaid."Aw, Ma'am, ye do look wisht, sure enough," said Sam, remarking thegloomy aspect of Maidy Susan's usually merry face.

  "And so I be, Sam," she replied, "I wish I were to-home, I do."

  "Now that be cruel to we, daze me if it bean't. Why do 'ee wish sech acruel thing, Ma'am?"

  "Why, to-morrer be Christmas Eve, and there'll be no ashton fagot, andno egg-hot, like us have to-home."

  "What be they, Maidy?"

  "Don't 'ee know that? Why, the fagot be made of ash-sticks tied aboutwi' nine twigs, and on Christmas Eve 'tis dragged to the Squire's hearthand set ablaze; and then we do dance and jump for cakes, and dive forapples in a tub o' water. Oh, 'tis sech fun, you can't think! And thenwe drink egg-hot----"

  "What's that, if it be so pleasin'?"

  "Why, silly chiel, 'tis cider and eggs and spice, made as hot as 'ee candrink it."

  "Aw, I know what that is. Mess is what we do name it, and as for fagot,we do call that mock, only it bean't sticks, but a mighty block o' wood.Squire don't hev it now, since he hev been so poor. But why don't 'eeaxe yer maister if ye can do as ye do to-home?"

  "I don't know what be come to Maister. He be all hippety-like--looks asgrave as a church owl, and him goin' to be married, too. Pa'son begoin' to pray for un fust time o' Sunday."

  "Well, marriage be a fearsome thing, I s'pose. I seed a weddin' up-alongat church once, and theer was a little Noah's flood o' tears. I don'tthink I'll ever be married."

  "You be only a chiel yet. But there now, 'tis ever since Maisterbrought they great lubbers into house, and gied 'em guns and swords andI don't know what all. Seems he be afeard o' summat. Do 'ee think thatmonster Boney will come and eat the poor childer here, Sam?"

  "Not he. He dussn't do it. Don't 'ee be afeard, now, Maidy dear. I'lllook out for un, and if I do see un I'll ring our bell so powerful loudthat all the brave men in the country will run to defend 'ee."

  "We've got a bell, too."

  "Not sech a banger as ours, I warrant 'ee. I do wish Squire were rich;then we'd hev the mock, and a great big figgy pudden, not a little smallone wi' half a pound o' figs in it; and Squire would axe 'ee and all thecountry to come and join us, and ye'd come in yer fine new gown that I'mgoin' to gie ye. But theer, 'tis not to be, and 'twill only make uswisht to think o't."

  "Look 'ee see, Sam: what a throng o' folk! Whatever is the matter?"

  They had come within sight of the village green, where a crowd of men,women, and children were talking excitedly.

  "What be all this stoor, Ike?" asked Sam of the young fisher.

  "Why, Jake Tonkin can't be found nowhere. He wented up-along yestere'ento wood to get some mistletoe, and never come back."

  "Never come back?"

  "No. His mother be in a tarrible state, Zacky bein' away and all."

  "Sure 'a didn' go wi' Zacky to Rusco?"

  "Now that's foolish. Didn' I say 'a wented for mistletoe yestere'en,and Zacky sailed off in mornin'.'

  "So 'a did, to be sure. Here's riding-officer; let us tell him."

  Mr. Polwhele rode up into the midst of the crowd.

  "Well, neighbours, what's to do?" he cried.

  "Jake Tonkin be gone a-lost, Maister," shouted a score of voices inanswer.

  "Lost, is he? He's big enough to take care of himself, surely. Isn'the with his father?"

  "No, Maister," piped a small boy. "Zacky Tonkin be----"

  "Wisht yer clatter!" cried the child's mother, catching him by the armand shaking him.

  "Who saw him last?" asked the riding-officer.

  "Who seed un last?" repeated several voices. "Here be Un Tonkin; she'lltell to we."

  "'A wented last night to get mistletoe, sir," said Mrs. Tonkin, with apale, anxious face. "Never hev he stayed out all night afore, and I beafeard something bad hev come to un."

  "Oh, dear no! I can't imagine anything of the kind," said the officer,cheerily. "Don't be down-hearted. He'll come home-along by-and-by aslarge as life. I'll ride to the wood and look about, and tell my men tosearch too. The young rascal! Up to some mischief, you may be sure. Gohome, my good woman, and don't distress yourself, and you folks, insteadof standing gossiping here, go and hunt. Christmas Day is coming, youknow, and we must have Jake back in time for the parson's dinner."

  But the day closed without the discovery of any trace of the missinglad, and some of Mrs. Tonkin's kind neighbours were already condolingwith her on the loss of her only son, and assuring her that Zacky wouldbe in a terrible way when he came home.

  Mr. Mildmay and the riding-officer supped together before setting out,the one by sea, the other by land, for the scene of the expected run.

  "Would to heaven we had never come to terms with Doubledick!" said Mr.Polwhele. "Never again for me, Mildmay. Set a thief to catch a thief,they say, but I don't know how you feel: I feel myself a mean rascal,old stager as I am at the game."

  "Honestly, I agree with you, and having Jake Tonkin mewed up herecomplicates things desperately. The moment he is let loose he'll tellhis father, and if I know the man, Doubledick's life won't be worth asnap of the finger."

  "Well, I warned him. I couldn't foresee that Jake would come upon himin that accidental way. Scheme as we will, Mildmay, there's a Power thatoverrules us all."

  "The best thing we can do now is to warn Doubledick. We've gone intopartnership with the fellow, and we can't in honour keep silence. Givehim a chance to escape."

  "You're right. I'll call at the inn as I ride down, and tell him wehave Jake locked up here. That will give him about twelve hours'grace--time to clear away bag and baggage."

  When the lieutenant went aboard his cutter, Mr. Polwhele entered theinn.

  "Where's Doubledick?" he asked of the inn-keeper's wife.

  "He be gone along to Trura, Maister," she replied, in her usual vinegarymanner.

  "What for?"

  "Well, I don't know as it be any business o' yourn, but 'tis to buy somefigs for the pa'son's dinner."

  "Oh, well, if he comes back, tell him I want to see him first thing inthe morning, will you?"

  "He hain't done nawthin' agen the law."

  "I'm glad of that. Don't forget my message."

  Mr. Polwhele left, firmly convinced that Doubledick had becomesuspicious and already beat a retreat.