by John Wilcox
‘Oh yes. There is a little path that winds up the cliff face above the harbour.’
‘Oh yes. I think I used it when leaving your house four nights ago. But won’t it be used by the smugglers?’
‘Perhaps, but just off the path there is a large bush where … where,’ it was now her turn to clear her throat, ‘where Tom Pengelly and I used to play as children. It hangs low over the edge of the cliff about a hundred feet above the harbour and lime kilns. We could crawl inside and look down without being seen from below or from the path.’ She looked up at him and grinned. ‘It’s really quite cosy in there.’
‘I’m sure it is.’ He had to make an effort not to sound disapproving, for he knew that Pengelly must be all of five or six years older than Rowena. It was most unlikely that they had played there as children – but perhaps as adults? ‘Very well, then. Let us meet here at – what shall we say – ten o’clock?’
‘No. Make it a little later, for it will be difficult for me to leave with Father still up. Say a little before eleven, say quarter to.’
‘Very well. Quarter to eleven. Meet here.’
‘Yes – oh, I almost forgot.’ She turned and, thrusting aside the bushes she made her way to the tree and put her hand into the hole in its trunk. ‘I left you sandwiches and a piece of cherry pie yesterday,’ she said, thrusting the bundle into his arms. ‘And there is chocolate cake in there, too. I hope they haven’t become too stale. I didn’t want you to go hungry.’ She put a hand to his cheek.
‘Oh, Rowena.’ He grasped the hand and kissed it. ‘You are so thoughtful.’
She stared at him unsmilingly for a moment. ‘It’s because I love you, Josh.’ She said the words simply, as though reiterating a well-accepted fact.
‘Oh, er, well yes.’ He released her hand quickly. ‘Now, we both must go. Won’t your father have missed you?’
‘No. I told him I was visiting Mrs Drake, the mother of poor Jem.’
‘Good.’
‘Oh Josh.’ She looked up beseechingly into his eyes. ‘Won’t you at least kiss me goodnight. Kiss me properly, that is.’
Joshua’s thoughts raced, a jumble of desire, conscience and fear – fear of what might ensue. ‘I don’t think so, Rowena. I mean it could … oh very well, then.’
He seized her roughly and, once again, she wrapped her arms around his neck. They kissed, Rowena’s tongue questing into his mouth and his responding, until he pushed her away.
‘Rowena! Where on earth did you learn to kiss like that?’
She grinned provocatively and then mocked him. ‘Joshua, where on earth did you learn to kiss like that?’
‘Well …’ he stumbled. ‘I am considerably older than you.’
‘Yes, well I am eighteen, which is quite old enough. Let’s do it again.’
‘No. We must go. Thank you again, my dear. Be careful on your way home. And I will see you here tomorrow night.’
She put her tongue out at him in mock dismay, then touched his cheek with her hand. ‘Yes, tomorrow night. You be careful, too, my love. Goodnight.’ She turned and disappeared into the darkness.
Josh stood and fingered his cheek, looking after her, his brain still in a whirl. Then he unwrapped the package and bit into the pie. It was only just a little too crusty from staying overnight in the tree. Ah, the girl could cook as well as kiss! What a terrifying combination! He sighed as he chewed.
He spent the next day holed up in the hut, not daring to go out in case news of the projected landing had leaked to the Preventers, causing them to patrol the coast. He did, however, study the cloud formation out at sea to the north-west to pick up signs of an adverse change in the weather, which might well cause the landing to be cancelled. All seemed tranquil, however, with the sea looking like smooth glass.
Josh found Rowena waiting for him, in the bushes by the tree at the appointed hour. Predictably, she had brought some tea in a jug, once hot but now only warm, together with a welcome pile of ham sandwiches. As he ate he couldn’t help wondering if Doctor Acland had noticed the remarkable increase in Rowena’s appetite.
Still chewing, they hurried to find Rowena’s bush, where she and Tom Pengelly had ‘played’. It was, indeed, the perfect hiding place, the foliage sweeping down to the earth in a green curtain around the trunk of the bush and seemingly impenetrable. Once inside, however, there was plenty of room for two – ah, what sort of games had she and Pengelly played there? – and, by parting the curtain where the ground steeply fell away, they could easily look down onto the quay and the little harbour.
What’s more, by the poor light from the half-obscured moon, Josh could just make out the distant, but unmistakable outline of a lugger, her sails backed, lying out at sea about halfway to the horizon.
‘Look,’ he whispered, ‘can you see her? I am told that luggers are almost always used by smugglers. They are roomy but quite fast sailers so they can give the Revenue boats a run for their money.’
Rowena nodded. ‘I know,’ she said.
Josh shot her a sharp glance, then put his fingers to his lips. Men, heavy-footed, were hurrying down the path, tramping past the bush on their way, presumably, to the harbour below.
Putting her lips to his ear, Rowena whispered, ‘They’re coming this way, rather than using the main path, to avoid passing the Preventers’ barracks.’
‘So they would have come from Hartland village, up on the top?’
‘Yes. Not from where we live.’
‘Hmm. Interesting.’
He peered through the hanging branches to look at the quay below and at the lime kilns and huts that fringed the edge of the water, facing where the harbour wall curled around to afford protection to small vessels. There was no sign of activity of any sort. The wall, the slipway and the buildings were deserted.
‘I have brought something that might help,’ whispered Rowena. She unbuttoned her coat and produced a telescope, which she slid to its full, open length and handed to him.
‘Oh, Rowena. You think of everything.’
‘I must take it back, though, before Father misses it.’
‘Was he in bed when you left?’
‘I think so. At least, he had retired for the night and there was no sound from his room.’
‘Good. Let me look.’
He gestured for Rowena to turn round and then rested the telescope on her shoulder, gently thrusting the end through the hanging foliage and focusing it on the lugger, now just a dark shadow out at sea. The ship slid into sight but he could see little detail, except … yes … he could just about make out figures moving on the deck.
More men were now coming down the path and Rowena huddled closer to him, for once more in fear, he realised, than desire, for one of the men lightly brushed the foliage hanging down onto the edge of the path, as though about to part it to look inside. But he did not do so and trod on, until silence descended onto the hiding place once more.
Crouched there in the darkness and hidden by the curtain of branches and what was left of their leaves, Joshua felt a stab of anxiety as he realised how close they were sailing to danger. If they were discovered it was likely that they would be killed, for smuggling was an offence now punished by banishment to the Australian colonies, which usually meant no return to the homeland for the guilty. And these men were from the village on the heath above, not from the quay, and would have no compunction in removing any trace of evidence of their wrongdoing, for they were unlikely to have any regard for this stranger and his seeming lover from the hamlet below.
That is how they would be regarded and, crouched in the cold and dark of their hideaway, he instinctively put his arm around Rowena and pulled her closer. She was trembling but her fear could not subdue her sense of humour.
‘I knew you would like to cuddle, Josh.’
With a sigh of exasperation, he pushed her away and turned to look down on the harbour below once again. The first of the men were now debouching onto the slipway and, then, the later arrivals climbin
g up to the sheds that surrounded the lime kilns.
Two of the men on the slipway moved to untie a rope securing one of the dinghies to a ring set in the stonework.
‘Ah, look Rowena. They are taking one of the dinghies out to ship some of the contraband from the lugger.’ He raised the telescope to his eye. ‘Oh, yes. As I feared. It is Pengelly who is climbing into the dinghy. Here, look.’
She focused the glass and nodded glumly. ‘Yes, it is Tom. He is one of the smugglers without a doubt.’ She bit her lip and handed back the telescope.
Josh sighed. ‘Did you always know that, Rowena, or just suspect it?’
She matched his sigh. ‘Oh, I think I always knew it, Josh, but it was never talked of. You see,’ her voice took on a lower, more intense, tone, ‘smuggling is just not considered a crime here. In some way or another, everyone around here seems to be involved, either by running the contraband ashore, as, it seems, Tom is about to do, or distributing the goods or,’ he could feel her shrug, ‘buying the smuggled goods, if they can afford them.’
Joshua was about to say, ‘Like your father,’ but bit off the retort. ‘Yes, I think I understand,’ he said quietly. ‘The problem is that it is regarded as a serious crime by the government, earning heavy penalties. And doing this, virtually next door to Cunningham and his Preventers, surely is asking for trouble.’
‘Ah, I think that’s partly why they do it. Cunningham is not loved around here, Josh. That is clear. They are, what is the phrase? Yes, “cocking a snook” at him and the authorities by landing the goods under his nose. The boys around here will love doing that.’
Joshua levelled the telescope through the curtain again. ‘Ah. Another dinghy is about to be launched. Do you know the men who are manning them, apart from Tom?’ He handed back the glass.
She squinted one-eyed. ‘Oh, I know their faces, I think, but I don’t know their names.’ She handed back the telescope and smiled ruefully. ‘Father didn’t like me mixing with the boys from Hartland on the top. He said that they were a rough people.’
Joshua tightened his lips. ‘But Tom, coming from Morwenstow, was acceptable, was he?’
He felt her hot breath on his ear. ‘Now, now, Mr Weyland, don’t tell me that we are getting jealous, are we? Oh good. Splendid!’
‘Certainly not. Of course not. Now, be quiet for a moment and let me concentrate.’
He watched as the two dinghies were pulled round the harbour wall and out to sea. ‘Of course,’ he breathed, ‘the slipway makes an ideal landing place for unloading the goods, although it is not exactly hidden away. I wonder …’ He stopped as a handful of the men walked up to one of the huts. One of them fumbled in his pocket, produced a key and opened the door. ‘Yes,’ continued Josh, ‘and the contraband is hidden there temporarily, among the workings from the kilns, before being taken away and distributed to the customers. It is all very well organised. The manager of the kilns must be in on the whole thing.’
‘How many men are doing all this?’ asked a now more relaxed Rowena, sitting back and extracting another sandwich from her bundle.
‘Not many. Only about eight or nine in all, including the four men in the dinghies. Not all that many to unload …’ He stiffened and fell silent. Then:
‘Oh my God! The Preventers have arrived. Now there is going to be violence … No. They are shaking hands with the smugglers. What on earth is going on?’ He handed the telescope to Rowena. ‘You tell me. They are Preventers, aren’t they?’
She seized the glass. ‘Oh yes, they’re Preventers all right. They are wearing the uniforms.’
‘Perhaps they stole them?’
‘No. I recognise three or four of them and … one is hobbling. He must be one of the ones you hurt when the tinners came down to save us, up on the top. Look.’ She handed back the telescope.
He focused. ‘Yes. Preventers all right. Good Lord! They must be in on it too. No wonder they can unload here in the quay, just down from their barracks. They must be doing it behind Cunningham’s back.’
He stayed looking through the glass for a moment. ‘No.’ He said quietly. ‘They are not. Cunningham has joined them and has given a key to one of his men to open another storeroom.’
He lowered the telescope and turned to Rowena. ‘Why didn’t I think of it before? The bloody man is a smuggler, probably the leader of the whole gang. His Preventers are part of the ring. No wonder he has been complaining sadly about the rise in smuggling in the area. He and his men are causing it – and doing so without fear of being caught, because they are the catchers, so to speak. Damn it, Rowena, it is a devilishly clever arrangement. I suspected Cunningham of doing much worse things – the light luring the sailors to their destruction, but I never contemplated that he would be running the smuggling operation, too. And villagers from the top, at least, are in on it too. The whole area is corrupt.’
He looked at her steadily. ‘You must tell me, Rowena, did you know about any of this?’
She returned his gaze equally steadily. ‘Of course I knew that there was smuggling going on, because …’ She stopped, then went on. ‘I knew it was happening, although I have never seen a landing. I managed to get Tom Pengelly to hint that something was going to happen tonight, but apart from him I never knew who was involved. And certainly not Cunningham and his Preventers.’
Josh sighed. ‘Well, I suppose, strictly speaking, nothing has happened yet, so we could not accuse anyone at this stage even if we wanted to. Nothing has been landed.’ He focused the telescope out to sea. ‘Yes, I can just see the two dinghies approaching the lugger, although the light is virtually dying now and they have almost disappeared.’ He sighed. ‘We will wait and see the landing.’
A silence fell between them, now rather uncomfortable. Then Rowena broke it. ‘What will you do about it, then, Josh? I don’t like the thought of Tom going to prison and then even being shipped abroad, because of what he told me.’
Joshua put his head in his hands. ‘I just don’t know. I can’t let Cunningham get away with this. But how to prove it?’ He looked up, appearing incongruously like a vagrant in the doctor’s old, now rather tattered cloak. ‘It would be just our word against his.’
‘Unless we could inform the militia and they suddenly searched the barracks and found contraband hidden away there.’
He shook his head. ‘Cunningham is a clever man. He would not be so foolish as to let his barracks be used for storing smuggled goods. It will all be put overnight in those huts and then distributed quickly under cover of his men going out on patrol. On patrol to catch smugglers.’ He grinned weakly.
‘Oh, Josh. What are we to do? I don’t like the idea of … of … some of the villagers of the quay being suspected and even being charged.’
Josh regarded her sadly. ‘And I think I know why. But let us wait and see exactly what they do with the contraband once it’s ashore.’ He levelled the telescope out to sea. ‘It won’t be long now. I think I can see the dinghies pulling for the shore.’
He reached out his hand and took one of hers in it. For once, however, she did not respond, merely letting it rest there while she hung her head. Joshua felt a great wave of pity sweep over him. She would be distraught, of course, if her beloved father was accused of buying contraband goods, which seemed now to be surely the case.
They sat quietly, hand in hand, for some time. Joshua, peering down, could now see the dinghies coming into normal vision and a jackbooted Cunningham giving orders to his men and pointing to the various huts.
Then he stiffened. ‘My God,’ he whispered.
‘What’s the matter?’
He raised the telescope and trained it onto the face of a man who was now in earnest conversation with Cunningham, pointing with him to the huts, as though suggesting ways they could be used. ‘Yes,’ he said, an air of sadness creeping into his voice. ‘Rowena, it’s your father. He is talking to Cunningham. It looks as though he is helping him in some way.’
‘What! It can’t be. I a
m sure he was in his room when I left.’
‘I think not, my dear. Here, take the glass and look at the face of the man who is discussing things with Cunningham.’
She did so, holding it there for at least thirty seconds. Then, slowly, she handed the telescope back to him. ‘Oh Josh,’ she said eventually, ‘I long suspected that he was buying contraband cognac and fine pieces. He just couldn’t resist good brandy and that fine china and so on …’ Her voice fell to a whisper. ‘That is why I tried to stop you investigating this whole smuggling business here. But I never thought he would be one of the smugglers himself.’
‘More than that, I fear, my dear.’ Joshua was training the glass on the two figures below. ‘He is undoubtedly discussing where the contraband should be stored, once it is landed. He is clearly jointly in charge.’
Rowena was now softly weeping. ‘Oh Josh. You won’t give him up to the militia, will you? He is too old to go to prison. He would die there. Please, oh please, say you won’t.’
Josh bit his lip. ‘No, no. Of course not. We will find a way of getting him out of this,’ but his brain added, God knows how.
He held her close for a moment longer, then pushed her away. ‘Look, you should get back to the house, in case your father decides to return early.’
‘No. I can’t go just yet. I want to see what they do with the contraband.’ She looked at him tearfully. ‘And make sure you get away safely.’
‘Oh, please don’t worry about me. I shall stay here until I am sure the last man has gone. But I insist you go now, before they start returning up the path. You should be quite safe while they are waiting for the goods to arrive. Go on, please, Rowena. The last thing I want is for you to be caught spying on the gang. Anything could happen. Please … go now. I shall stay hidden for some time yet.’
‘When will I see you again, then?’
‘Oh, I am not quite sure, Rowena. I have some thinking to do.’ And then, half aloud: ‘I wonder if I should ask Hawker’s advice?’
