Late Harvest

by FIONA BUCKLEY

  Many farm women didn’t ride but those that did, as I did, usually rode astride. To do that in bundled-up skirts, however, meant calves badly pinched by the stirrup leathers, unless one had protection. Leggings were essential. ‘I think I can manage a few hours on Lady,’ I said. ‘It might help, having three of us.’

  William, crossing the farmyard to join us, said: ‘I fancy we’ve lost two cows for good. Over there – look. Red lumps lying on the ground.’

  ‘Your eyesight’s better than mine,’ said James. ‘But you may be right. There’s been animals killed by lightning on that there hillside before now. Iron in the ground, so I’ve heard. We’ll get over there. All right, Peggy, take Lady and go towards the coast. William and me’ll spread our net inland and hope to heaven that the lightning didn’t get more than two!’

  Foxwell was about three miles from the coast in a straight line, but who knew how far cattle might stampede when panic-stricken. It would mean crossing moorland and then going through a belt of trees called Culbone Wood. It was far more likely that our cattle had bolted in the opposite direction, since the gate they had fled through faced inland. But one never knew, so I pressed on.

  Heather doesn’t take footprints so I had no way of tracking our strays. I did come across a sheep caught by a gorse bush and silently thanked James for his good advice about carrying a knife. I released the animal, which cantered off, bleating, in thanks or relief or resentment; who knows what sheep feel? I continued towards the wood. I didn’t really expect to find any of our cattle there but I didn’t turn back. I had set out to search for them and I might as well do it thoroughly, or that is what I told myself. Now, looking back across the years, and remembering another time, much later, when once again I took a decision, suddenly and for no very good reason, because some deep instinct said do it, I am not so sure. Both times I felt as though I had in some way been summoned. I can’t put it more plainly than that.

  At any rate, I did ride on, threading my way through the trees, to emerge at last on a narrow strip of open land, where scanty grass grew on thin soil over the hard rock of the cliffs. The Bristol Channel was before me, grey and restless after the storm, with white horses here and there, but navigable again, for I could see two ships in the distance. The Welsh coast was dim and misty, the dangerous clarity gone.

  Then a sound made me turn my head, and a little way off to my right I beheld a surprising sight. Something, probably lightning, must have startled two of our Red Devons into changing direction and fleeing this way after all. For there they were. They had found their way through the trees to the cliffs. One of them was calmly grazing, though the poor grass of the exposed clifftop could hardly have been very satisfactory. The other was being held by a man who seemed to have made a rough rope halter for the purpose, while a second man, sitting beside her on an upturned bucket, was milking her.

  Beyond this surprising tableau, I could see several other men, close to the cliff edge, all staring downwards and apparently discussing something. I turned Lady towards them and realized as we approached that they were standing where a sloping pathway down the cliff began, the path that according to Ralph had been used by free traders until a landslide blocked it.

  As I came within earshot, I heard one of the men remark: ‘Still needs a bit of clearing but spades and shovels and a moonlight night, and there’s the track, good as new, ready for a pack train.’

  Another voice replied: ‘Needn’t even use a pack train. How about a good strong plough horse and a kind of trailer?’

  Then the man holding the cow’s halter saw me and called: ‘We have company!’ and they all became aware of me. They fell silent, heads turning.

  I recognized some of the faces. Luke Hatherton, lean and bleached as ever. The fisherman I had met when I stayed with the Duggans, big, slow-moving Barney Oates with the grizzled beard. Roger Hatherton was there and the fellow holding the cow by the rope halter was surely Daniel Hopton. I hadn’t seen him for years but the big ears and the dust-coloured tuft of hair sticking up above his forehead were unmistakeable.

  And then I saw Ralph.

  He knew me at the same moment and came striding towards me. ‘Peggy! What in the world brought you here?’

  ‘Whatever it was, it shouldn’t have done!’ Luke Hatherton came hurrying after him, his face as hard as rock. ‘What’re we goin’ to do about this, now? She heard! I’d take my oath on it! We weren’t whispering. Who’d have thought it, a woman turnin’ up out of the blue just as we’re …’

  ‘Don’t be daft, Luke,’ said Ralph brusquely. ‘It’s Peggy. Peggy Bright. We can trust her, same as we can trust my Harriet.’

  I was glad Ralph was there, for the rest of them made me nervous. I said: ‘Our cows got out last night. We’re out looking for them and that’s two of them you’ve got there. What’s Mr Hopton doing, milking one?’

  ‘I’d intended to milk them both,’ said Daniel. He put down his pail and came over to me. ‘We fancied some refreshment and when these cows came wandering by, well, why not? We’d be doing them a favour as well as ourselves.’ His voice had a harsh note that it hadn’t had in the old days. He had changed, I thought, as he grew older.

  ‘That milk belongs to Foxwell,’ I said. ‘I’ll milk them when I get them home. What is all this?’

  I slipped out of Lady’s saddle, handed her reins to Daniel, who took them automatically, and walked forward. Ralph said sharply: ‘Careful! Keep back from the cliff edge.’

  Luke growled: ‘Might be just as well if it crumbled,’ and got a savage glance from Ralph.

  But I had already stopped. From where I stood, I could see enough, for to my right, the cliff curved a little. The blocked path was blocked no longer but continued, as far as I could see, free of obstructions, down and down and out of sight.

  ‘The boulder’s gone!’ I said. ‘The one that’s always been there – it’s vanished!’

  ‘Last night’s rain seems to have brought down another landslide and it took the boulder into the sea with it. There’s some rubble left on the path but that’s all.’

  ‘But what … I mean, why are you all …?’ Then I understood. I looked at Ralph and blurted out: ‘You’re going to start smuggling again, aren’t you? And using that path.’ Then I wished I hadn’t spoken, for the appalled and angry expressions on the faces of Ralph’s companions were frightening.

  ‘Christ!’ muttered Barney Oates. ‘Now we’re on the rocks, good and proper!’

  ‘Come with me.’ Ralph took my arm. Luke said: ‘Don’t tell her any more, Duggan.’

  ‘Leave this to me,’ said Ralph over his shoulder. ‘Come over here, Peggy. I tell you, Luke, we can trust her! Daniel, tether that mare to that outcrop there, well away from the cliff edge.’

  He led me back towards the trees to where a fallen trunk made a seat. ‘There’s no point in hiding anything from you now,’ he said. He spoke quite roughly and I looked at him, startled.

  ‘You have wide scared eyes,’ he said, more gently, his own eyes searching mine. ‘Yes, you’ve seen what you’ve seen and you’ve a brain in your skull. The old path is clear again now except for the rubble and we’ll soon get rid of that. The path goes right down to the shore and the cave I once pointed out to you. At low tide there’s a landing place below it. That cave is where we hid Philip, as a matter of fact, till we could get him embarked for Antigua. One could always get there by sea – only while that great big boulder was in the way there was no getting anything up the cliff. There’re rocks in the sea, of course, but there’s a safe way in for something smallish, and that’s still there, right enough.’

  I remembered, with pain, sailing with Ralph in the old Bucket. I remembered the sweetness of his company. I remembered how it was to be young, and in love, with the promise ahead of years in which to go on being in love.

  ‘But now you can use the cave,’ I said. ‘Well, James won’t be one of your customers. Don’t approach him, whatever you do. He’s not like Father. And he’s mad
e friends with the Riding Officer, Benjamin Hartley. You’d better know.’

  ‘Thank you. So – you won’t tell James all about meeting me here and what you found me doing, and with whom?’

  His voice was without emotion, but his eyes, eyes that had once been so full of love, love for me, seemed to be burning holes in me. I stared back, however, knowing that though he had defended me to his associates, he did doubt me at heart. I resented it. ‘Of course I shan’t tell James, or anyone else! What do you take me for? I shall just say I found two of our cows. I’ll take them home.’

  Ralph drew in a long breath. ‘Thank God. I believed we could trust you. I thought so. I hoped so! But it’s been years … people change … James disapproves and you’ve been his wife for all that time …’

  ‘I haven’t changed,’ I said, and yes, there was a double meaning there and we both knew it. ‘I wish you wouldn’t do this,’ I told him, ‘because it’s so dangerous, more than it was before the war. The Revenue keep too vigilant a watch! You could get transported! I’d never do anything to harm you.’ The idea made me shudder. ‘Never,’ I said. ‘For your sake and for Harriet’s.’

  I meant that, in all honesty. If things had been otherwise, if Ralph and I had married, if Harriet could have married someone else, she and I might have been friends. We had been robbed of that just as Ralph and I had been robbed of each other.

  I said: ‘How did you know, about the boulder going over the edge? What happened?’

  ‘Yesterday,’ said Ralph, ‘I and my friends, that you see here, were wondering if the cave could be used sometimes for temporary storage, especially now that the Revenue’s so suspicious and so vigilant and other landing places aren’t safe. The Revenue keeps an eye on shipping; the officers often guess when consignments are likely, and then most of the regular landing places are watched. But we could dump barrels in the cave, Luke Hatherton said. They wouldn’t be watching that. Then we could bring the things properly ashore somewhere else, sometime when the Revenue aren’t expecting a landing. So me and Hopton landed yesterday to take a look, see if the cave and the landing were still the same. We didn’t know how long we’d take and we’d seen the Waterguard hanging about so we didn’t leave our ship anchored nearby …’

  ‘Is she still the old Bucket?’ I asked suddenly, overcome by nostalgia.

  ‘No, the Bucket started leaking badly years ago. I’ve a better ship now, much bigger, called the Moonlight. Carries extra sail, for speed. Can’t bring her in close because of the rocks, she’s too big, but we got into the gig while we were still well out and Luke Hatherton sailed on. Said he’d be back to fetch us in a couple of hours, assuming the coast was clear. But while he was gone, the weather changed and we knew that Luke probably couldn’t get back for us. Well, we’re always prepared for that sort of thing. We had food and cider with us and a few rugs. We slept in the cave last night, or tried to.’

  ‘It must have been frightening,’ I said.

  ‘It was bloody dangerous!’ said Ralph forcefully and without apology. ‘The sea can’t normally get into that cave – it’s well above the high-water mark. It used to be quite a business sometimes, hauling heavy barrels up to the cave mouth. But last night nothing was normal and the tide came surging up with great big waves half as high as a house and they smashed right in. Luckily, the cave goes well back and slopes upwards. We huddled there just out of reach of the water. And then,’ said Ralph, ‘there was a noise like the end of the world that frightened us half to death. It wasn’t till later, when the light began to come and the sea dropped, that we saw. We went to the cave mouth and looked round and we saw that that old boulder was gone off the path. In fact, we could see it sticking out of the sea, away to the left.’

  ‘Ralph!’ I found myself trembling, horrified to think how near death he and all his companions must have been.

  He grinned. ‘So now,’ he said cheerfully, ‘we have a cave with a safe approach and an outlet to the land above, only the Customs men don’t know about it. They know the cave’s there, of course, but they’ve long assumed that it is useless as a landing place. It’ll take time before they realize what’s happened. And meanwhile … well, we all came along together this morning and took a look and we liked what we saw.’

  There was laughter in his voice, the ring of adventurousness that had always filled me with love and joy. I had missed this so much. Ralph had always had this side to him, this eager reaching out to exploit new things. He had stimulated my mind as well as my senses. James was honest and decent and attentive to his land but he rarely spoke of anything not connected with the farm or our family or, sometimes, local people or events. Part of me, an untamed, unwomanly part, an inner wildness that had once sent me out in the night to get rid of Philip’s tell-tale pony, had gone hungry for many, many years.

  Ralph was still talking. ‘Anyhow, we mean to make good use of our cave. As you are now aware.’

  ‘Yes,’ I said seriously. ‘You can trust me but I still wish I didn’t know. What does Harriet think about all this?’

  ‘She knows I’m hoping to start free trading again. She doesn’t like it but she knows she can’t stop me, and she won’t betray me. Harriet’s a good woman.’

  ‘Your freedom, maybe your life; they’re in her hands,’ I said slowly. ‘And now, perhaps, in mine.’

  ‘They were in your hands from the moment you rode up to us,’ said Ralph. ‘It’s as well I was there to defend you. You know, back in the days when we were engaged, my father said I wasn’t to tell you any details about our … side business until we were married. I would have been open with you from the start. I wanted to give you my trust as a second betrothal ring.’

  ‘How very romantic.’ Luke Hatherton had come up to us quietly, from the side, and because we were looking into each other’s faces as we talked, we hadn’t seen him. We turned sharply, realizing that he had probably overheard a good deal. ‘If she’s to be privy to our secrets,’ he said, ‘she’d better take our oath. How about it?’

  ‘What oath is this?’ I asked. Ralph looked uncomfortable.

  ‘It’s an oath everyone used to take who joined our little band of free traders,’ said Luke, answering for him. ‘We’ve revived it.’

  ‘Harriet hasn’t taken it,’ said Ralph.

  ‘She’s your wife. Mrs Bright isn’t.’

  ‘What does it involve?’ I asked.

  They told me, and I flinched inwardly, for it was a heavy commitment, even for someone who wasn’t going to take any active part in the business.

  But although Ralph himself demurred, I agreed, and it was mainly for his sake. In trusting me, he had risked the trust that his confederates had in him. I wanted to secure it for him.

  And that was how I came to stand there on the clifftop, with my right hand – I felt somewhat absurdly – raised in the air. ‘We don’t carry Bibles around with us,’ Luke said, acidly humorous. ‘Now, Mrs Peggy Bright – is Peggy your right name? It’s mostly a pet name for Margaret.’

  ‘I was christened Margaret,’ I told him.

  ‘All right. Mrs Margaret Bright, repeat after me. I, Margaret Bright …’

  ‘I, Margaret Bright …’

  ‘Do solemnly swear loyalty to all in our band of traders …’

  I repeated it.

  ‘I swear never to betray any of them to the law, nor to risk their safety by careless talk, in my cups or otherwise …’

  I repeated this, too, noticing as I did so that Luke had given Ralph a fierce glance. Clearly he considered that in talking freely to me, Ralph had been guilty of carelessness.

  ‘I also swear that if I learn of danger to any of us, I will warn those in peril if I possibly can.’

  This was a frightening one but I had gone too far to draw back. I said the words, as steadily as I could.

  ‘And if I fail in any point and harm comes to any of us because of it, may God strike me dead.’

  I said that too.

  ‘And so say we all.’ The
men around me spoke the words together. Then it was over and even Luke looked happier. I sat on the grass and drank cider with them, before I mounted Lady once again. Daniel had taken the halter off the cow he had been milking, and I set about chivvying the two Red Devons towards the path through the wood, helped by Ralph, on foot.

  At the moment of parting, we were among the trees, out of sight of the others. I leant down to shake Ralph’s hand in farewell, but Lady, being an Exmoor pony, was under thirteen hands. Ralph rose on his toes, bringing himself within easy reach, and kissed me goodbye. The warm heady taste of him, as familiar as the taste of bread and as intoxicating as strong wine, was still with me when I reached Foxwell, herding my recaptured cows ahead of me.

  Perilous Knowledge

  ‘Two cows killed by lightning,’ said James, as he sat in the basket chair in the kitchen, pulling off his muddy boots. He had been out all day. ‘And four calves aborted. Could’ve been worse. We needn’t waste the cows we’ve lost. We can eat fresh beef and salt some too. Might sell one carcass whole. John in bed?’

  ‘Yes, earlier than usual. He needs sleep,’ I said. ‘None of us got much last night and he’s only six. I got a little rest after I came home. I was fairly worn out myself.’

  ‘I saw Fred just now. He says the two you brought back were found right out on the cliff beyond Culbone Wood. It’s a wonder they didn’t go straight off the cliff in all that darkness and wind. What made ’ee push on so far?’

  I was stirring the stockpot, while Annie chopped ham to go into a chicken and ham pie and Rose rolled pastry. I peered into the depths of the pot, as if concerned that something might have stuck to the bottom. I had wondered myself why I had ridden on through Culbone Wood, even though I thought the cows weren’t likely to have plunged on under the trees. They would already have come far enough to tire them and wear out their panic.