by Mark Walker
6
THERE WAS AN INLET WITH A LARGE CAVE hidden there! As they drew closer and looked down, Riggs called into it, producing an elaborate echo. There seemed no way into the cave other than the narrow sea-lane from the reef and through the rocks—except for the ledge of rock they were standing on—and he realized it led directly into the cave. Riggs led Kendra by the hand, and they continued carefully around the corner and into the cave.
The reflections of the water sparkled and reflected off the ceiling and sides. The cavern was large, perhaps six or seven meters tall, and almost as wide. The ledge was fairly wide as well, the path splitting in two, the left one leading down to another spit of solid rock that appeared to be a pier, the other to the right, traveling on up along the side of the cave wall, and around the corner.
First, they explored the pier. There were definite signs of use here, with fresh rope laid for mooring lines, set into stanchions embedded in the rock, and various chains, pulleys, and hooks. An overturned skiff and oars were set against the cavern side of the pier, well above the high tide line. Several crates and barrels were nested under the overhang of the upper path, though they appeared empty to Riggs’s inspection. Next, they ventured along the higher path, winding their way slowly as the light from the mouth of the cave grew dimmer. Riggs pulled out his ever-handy torch, and they were able to make good time. The back of the cave rose to a sheer wall, and the path became a tunnel.
The tunnel seemed to curve around to the right, making a half circle around the tin mine, until another chamber revealed itself off the main tunnel. There, caught in the light of the torch, were two great iron doors. The door to the left was locked, and there were signs of recent use. Riggs pulled out his lock-pick set, and made several attempts to breech it, yet failed. The other door to the right seemed to lead back into the mine. It was unlocked, and after a try, Riggs was able to budge it and the interior of the mine revealed itself. He peered in. It was the tin mine’s ground floor, roughly on the same level as the route they had followed.
They passed through the old rusty door and picked their way carefully through bits of rubble. The mine shafts themselves were boarded up and showed no sign of any recent use. Near the door by which they had gained entrance was the great furnace, and the bricks of the smokestack ascended into the high ceiling. Being built on the side of the cliffs, the mine was on several levels, and they found the concrete steps mostly intact. Each floor had high ceilings where the flooring still existed, and through the openings they could see the blue sky overhead. All the floors were empty, except of more rubble. They went up a couple of floors, where they could look out the windows down to the beach, and out to sea. The tide was already eroding the long strip of beach that they had used to access the landing and the cave. They clambered back down the steps, taking extreme care as they returned to the ground floor, and that was where they found something. There were signs of recent disturbance near the wall of the mine opposite the cave.
“Very curious, indeed,” he murmured, thinking back to the rough hands of the pirates and their dusty clothes.
Riggs noted fresh scratches, and paths that seemed to have been cleared. Then they discovered the door. It was half hidden behind a piece of rotting plywood that Riggs noted had been recently placed there. This door was fastened with a huge rusted lock, and as he examined it Riggs noticed scratches, and signs of recent use. Drawing his set of skeleton keys again from his pocket he went to work, and after three tries, this lock popped open. “Most helpful,” he said. He indicated the other door. “At least we know we can get back out here through the mine. The beach path will be below tide soon.”
A look of real excitement came across Kendra Danes’ face, “Do you think the famous treasure may be behind this door? I mean I’ve never—” She stopped short.
Riggs replied, “I’m not sure, but I wouldn’t be surprised. Judging from the scratches, and scrapes on the lock, it’s been used recently. It would be rather exciting finding the treasure at that, but who knows what awaits. Shall we find out?” He smiled his lopsided smile.
“After you, Inspector,” replied Kendra deferentially.
Back at the Roundhouse Fred Bellows had retired to his room to conduct a couple of experiments—one with a teacup (or coffee cup to be exact), and the other with the remains of Captain Blackjack’s feed and water tray. He was hardly surprised at the results, and, checking his notes, could conclude with some certainty he knew where this lead would take him. With the inn quiet, and most of the residents elsewhere, he decided to do some exploring on his own and made his way to the turret lookout, or studio, as Mr. ffellows referred to it. He was careful to be extra quiet when he reached the upper floors, so as not to disturb the pirates’ beauty rest. Entering the odd room, he briefly admired the view out the broad windows, before puttering about here and there. He found one of Mr. ffellows’ sketchbooks on a table and thumbed through it, surprised to see his own portrait on one of the pages, along with that of Riggs. He continued looking through the various oil paints and rags and turpentine, examining a brush here or looking in a jar there. There was green tackle box on the floor near one of the tables. Bellows knelt and checked, finding it unlocked, opened it and began examining the contents.
After thoroughly going through the box, he made some notes in his little book, and a pleasant smile came to the broad rosy cheeks of Fred Bellows. He left the room, careful to let his visit go unnoticed, and crept back down the spiral stairs. The Great Room was momentarily unoccupied, so he continued down into the cellar. Here, the stairs curved briefly, then ran down two flights, a brief landing between them, before running along the rock wall into the open cellar. Other than the floor and ceiling, it seemed to be made of the black rock itself. There was a switch on the wall, that Bellows pressed, and a couple of electric bulbs gave light to the scene. He thought the basement might smell of damp with mildew, but it was very dry he noted, and almost musty in scent, with dust, and an occasional cobweb here and there. The room had some stores, barrels, and crates about. Just past the service stairs to the outside on the land-side, were four large casks set into the rock, each almost two meters wide. Intrigued, he examined them, knocked on them, and looked about for anything strange or out of place, but he found nothing, except for a rather large mouse that startled him into a “Great galloping golly-whoppers!”
Riggs and Kendra Danes passed through the iron door and entered a tunnel, where a current of cool air instantly struck them. They continued for only a short time, until they were suddenly confronted with a new set of choices: The tunnel branched off into four directions, but the way soon became clear.
“There must be hundreds of caves, just like this all over this part of Cornwall,” remarked Riggs. “Perfect for hiding treasure or supplies. But look here.” He indicated the tunnel on which he had focused his torch. It was shored up with a manmade structure of timbers, and as he shone the light further down its depths, it revealed the glint of steel tracks. They moved further along until the tracks began.
“Well, well, well… left over from the old mine, no doubt, but look here.” He bent down and using the light from his torch carefully examined the track. It had some recent use in the form of clean scratches. They followed the tracks, becoming increasingly aware of the strange clammy coolness, and a slight chill descended upon them. They came to another juncture, where the track switched to two directions, one veering left, the other right. Riggs chose the right track, but no sooner had they gone three paces before the track ended in a boarded-up wall. The tracks ran unmistakably under the wood, and a quick examination by Riggs revealed it to be a door. He pushed through it, and they entered into a small natural rock chamber with the track running through it. There was an oil torch in a bracket on the wall, so as to save his torch battery Riggs fumbled in his pocket for some matches. He reached up to light the nearest one, and as his match filled the chamber with flickering light, behind him Kendra Danes screamed in terror.
7
But after they heard her busy in the kitchen, curiosity got the better of them, and they decided to help by cleaning out the cage. They peeked under the black hood. Sergeant Bellows had removed the feed trough and water tin to examine for traces of poison, but a batch of sullied newspaper covered the floor of the cage. Michael removed the paper and let out an exclamation. Lying under the paper, wrapped in oilcloth was a flat square parcel tied with a thin rough rope. Gingerly he removed the article. “Mandy, Jen, come and look!” Mandy retrieved her little sister, and they gathered round the cage. No one else was about, so they set the package on the great table, and carefully undid the sailor’s knot of hemp that bound it. They gasped at what was inside: A browning piece of heavy vellum, which they immediately saw to be a map!
Michael looked wide-eyed at his sisters, exclaiming in a hushed tone, “Remember what Captain Blackjack said! ‘The map, you fool, the map!’”
“Do you really think that’s what this is?” gasped Mandy in astonishment.
“Open it! Open it!” cheered on Jen.
And that was all there was to it.
They undid the twine with great care, though it was tied with a simple slipknot. The old paper crackled slightly as they spread the map out and examined it minutely. They thought of perhaps copying the map and putting it back, but a bustle of activity from the kitchen made them stop. They quickly folded it back into the oilskin packet and made their plans in huddled whispers.
“It’s the map!”
“Oh, we can’t tell a soul! Not anybody!
“But we’ve got to go and tell Inspector Riggs!
“No! We’ve got to find the treasure!”
The children looked at each other in growing excitement. If they could but find the treasure, they would be heroes! Perhaps they might even get to keep it!
“We’ve got to keep it a secret!”
“Well, well, young friends, you’ve ‘got to keep a secret’ about what if I may be so bold as to ask?” It was Sergeant Bellows, appearing at the top of the cellar stairs where he’d undoubtedly been for several minutes.
“We, we found a, s-short-cut…” stammered Mandy.
“Found a shortcut, what and where?” asked Sergeant Bellows.
“Why, a, uh, shortcut to, to…” she trailed off sheepishly.
“We found it on the map!” blurted Jen excitedly.
“What map?”
“Jen!” said Michael in exasperation. But now the secret was exposed, and they poured out their story. Their discussion lasted only a little time before Sergeant Bellows, after carefully examining the map, took out his ever-present notebook, and pencil, and began to copy the map. His sketch was quick though precise in every detail, and then he announced, “This requires looking into. Perhaps you’d like to accompany me?” The words were barely out of his mouth before the children dashed to gather up their coats, and Sergeant Bellows took out a big rubber torch from his own coat pocket. He recovered the cage with the black shroud and called to Mrs. Potter that they were, “Going out.” But they did not hear Mrs. Potter’s caution, “Don’t get lost! And be careful!”
As they took off across the bridge, they were quite a sight to be sure, Mandy having picked up a small garden spade, and Jen a garden bucket; Michael following bravely just behind Sergeant Bellows as he led the way, the copy of the map in hand. They experienced a giddy thrill as the bridge swayed slightly, creaked a warning groan. Guided by the Bellows’ drawing, they quickly found the almost completely hidden entrance to a small footpath—a shortcut in fact—half behind a rock that split off the cliff face, just beyond the landing to bridge. It had natural, rock steps leading up to it, and went off to the left, winding and cutting around the craggy rocks, gradually rising, as the cliffs grew higher. The path was not manmade, and formed millions of years ago by wind, salt, and sea, like a small scar in the side of the cliff face. There were many loose rocks, and scraggly bushes, evidence the path had not been used for quite some time—perhaps years. Single file they traveled, due to the narrow width of the trench-like footpath, the sea was surging sixty meters below.
In a quarter of an hour they had gained the moor, leaving the cliff face and the footpath, where they paused to rest, and look at Sergeant Bellows’ copy of the map. Accordingly, not far from where they now stood, showed a large black dog howling at the moon. It was marked Howling Rock, and crudely depicted near it was a skull and crossbones. Indeed, about fifty meters inland from the edge of the cliff, there was a small outcropping of dark rock standing out by height, if nothing else, from the other rocks that dotted the grassy plain. They moved closer and sure enough, from one side the tumble of rocks greatly resembled the black dog that had been on the map.
Sergeant Bellows read, “’From the Howling Rock, go eighteen paces inland following the tumbled rocks. Find the sixth rock from the left’ and we should be there.” The eighteen paces turned to twenty-five because of Michael’s shorter stride, and after several minutes of searching, they discovered the ‘tumbled rocks.’ Bellows’ and the children’s excitement grew as the approached them. Two, three, four, five… to the sixth one! They scrambled up over the lichen-covered boulders to the sixth rock, helping Sergeant Bellows along the way. Sure enough, as they climbed over its edge, and looked behind it, they found a small opening between it and the rock above it. The lichen made it easy to slide down into the opening, which was a scant distance from the top edge.
The smell of moist earth and clay reached their nostrils as Bellows turned on the torch and consulted his copy of the map. It indicated they should go straight. They entered a small cavern that became larger as it gently descended. It was cooler, with a slight breeze inside the cave. After only a few paces they found a surprise that thrilled them straight down to their very souls. Sergeant Bellows’ torch picked up a fragment of splintered timber. As they drew closer, they could see the faded lettering painted on it that partially read: Fancy Anne.
8
WHEN KENDRA DANES SCREAMED, Riggs turned, startled to see The Ivory Grin worn by a huge skeleton clothed in brightly colored rags rushing toward them, brandishing a great cutlass above his head. Riggs responded immediately, wielding his stick and shielding Kendra Danes. The skeleton suddenly rattled to a stop just before reaching them, and they realized it seemed to run on some kind of track, suspended in a giant cobweb of sorts, dripping with greenish moss.
“Well, I’ll be,” exclaimed Riggs, his adrenalin pumping. Kendra Danes was clutching her violin case to her bosom, shaking and stammering. He grabbed her by the shoulder and shook her. “Come, come, lass, get a hold of yourself, it’s just some sort of prank.” Kendra Danes shuddered and began to breath in deeply. “There you go, now that’s it, just breathe deeply.”
Kendra took some deep steady breaths that seemed to calm her. “It’s all right, I think I’m better now. Sorry for acting like a violinist instead of a detective. I guess I’m not all that brave after all.”
“Never fear, think of it as your initiation,” said Riggs as he began to examine the strange contraption.
The skeleton had been rigged so that anyone passing in the dark would trip a wooden lever crudely releasing a long perpendicular arm that swung out toward the victim. Suspended from the arm was a simple track down which, pulled by gravity hung the skeleton. The “cobweb” was made of hemp and sailor’s netting, the skeleton hung from a hook on an old rusty chain. On closer examination Riggs discovered the bones carefully wired together with new bailing wire and fishing line.
“D
esigned to discourage visitors, so obviously we’re on the right track. There’s something somebody wants to keep hidden.” Riggs carefully moved the skeleton back in place and reset the lever. The rail track ran through the cavern and off to the left, whist an opening on the right was located just past the hanging skeleton.
“This looks like the obvious way. Are you all right to keep going?”
Kendra Danes replied in the affirmative, so Riggs took her hand, and they eased past the skeleton contraption, and into the next tunnel. They continued on for several minutes, the tunnel twisting and turning, Riggs’s light picking up footprints and evidence of human traffic.
They had just rounded a bend, when up ahead they thought they saw a strange light playing off the rock. Riggs doused his torch. Yes indeed, it was some kind of light. He whispered, “Someone is up there. Do you want to go on?” Even in the darkness he perceived the nod of her pale face, and felt her eyes go wide. They proceeded cautiously down the tunnel. Suddenly shrieks pierced the cold air of the cave. They went running as fast as they dared.
The children were filled with the excitement of their discoveries, the first being the map, the second being the scrap of wood bearing the name Fancy Anne. They had only passed a short way into the cool passage, close behind Sergeant Bellows, who, having just rounded a tightish bend, sprang back into the children, who cried out so loudly their screams echoed down the cavern walls.
