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Cormorant Crag, a Tale of the Smuggling Days, by George Manville Fenn.
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In this excellent book of smuggling life on the south coast of England,
dating about 1830, from some of the passing comments made by the author,
we read of the adventures of two boys living on a small off-shore
island. One is the son of the local doctor, the other the son of the
squire, or owner of the land round about. The boys are friendly with an
old fisherman called Daygo. It is thought that he is of Spanish
descent, from the Armada, but despite his name and appearance, he denies
it. He likes taking the boys out fishing, but feeds then a load of
yarns about the safety of a particular part of the cliffs, saying that
vessels getting too close to it have been known to disappear. This is
actually quite true in a way because there is a huge cave, quite big
enough to accommodate a small vessel.
The boys borrow Daygo's boat, without his leave, and explore the
forbidden cave. Of course they discover all the recently smuggled
goods. But a few days later they are in there, having discovered another
way in by land, and are captured by the smugglers, who are French, and
kidnapped. After that there are all sorts of exciting and perilous
situations, and it looks likely that the boys will not come out of it
alive.
But they do, of course! A good read.
NH
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CORMORANT CRAG, A TALE OF THE SMUGGLING DAYS, BY GEORGE MANVILLE FENN.
CHAPTER ONE.
A HOME AT SEA.
"Here, you, Vince!" cried Doctor Burnet, pausing in his surgery with a
bottle in each hand--one large and the other small, the latter about to
be filled for the benefit of a patient who believed himself to be very
ill and felt aggrieved when his medical adviser told him that he would
be quite well if he did not eat so much.
"Yes, father."
The boy walked up to the surgery door at the end of the long, low
granite house.
"Upon my word!" cried the Doctor; "it's lucky we have nobody here to see
you. No one would ever take you for a gentleman's son."
"Why not, father?"
"Why not, sir! Look at your trousers and your boots."
Vincent Burnet looked down, and then up in his father's face.
"Trousers a bit tight across the knee," he said deprecatingly. "The
cloth gave way."
"And were your boots too tight at the toes, sir? Look at them."
"They always wear out there," said Vincent; and he once more looked
down, beyond the great tear across the right knee of his trousers, to
his boots, whose toes seemed each to have developed a wide mouth, within
which appeared something which looked like a great grey tongue.
"I don't think this pair were very good leather, father," he said
apologetically.
"Good leather, sir! You'd wear them out it they were cast iron.--Ah, my
dear!"
A pleasant, soft face appeared at the door, and looked anxiously from
father to son.
"Is anything the matter, Robert?"
"Matter? Look at this fellow's clothes and boots!"
"Oh, Vince, my dear, how you have torn your trousers again!"
"Torn them again!--the boy's a regular scarecrow!" cried the Doctor. "I
will not pay for good things for him to go cliff-climbing and wading and
burrowing in caves.--Here: what are you going to do?"
"Take him indoors to sew up that slit."
"No!" cried the Doctor, filling up the bottle; and then, making a small
cork squeak as he screwed it in, "Take your scissors and cut the legs
off four inches above the knees."
"Robert!" cried Mrs Burnet, in a tone of protest.
"And look here, Vince: you can give up wearing shoes and stockings; they
are for civilised beings, not for young savages."
"My dear Robert, you are not in earnest?"
"Ah, but I am. Let him chip and tear his skin: that will grow up again:
clothes will not."
"All right, father; I shan't mind," said the boy, smiling. "Save taking
shoes and stockings off for wading."
"Vincent, my dear!" cried his mother, "how absurd! You would look nice
the next time Michael Ladelle came for you."
"He'd do the same, mother. He always imitates me."
"Yes; you're a nice pair," said the Doctor. "I never saw such young
savages."
"You're too hard upon them, Robert," said Mrs Burnet, laying her arm on
her son's shoulder. "It does not matter out in this wild place, where
there is no one to see him but the fishing people; and see what a
healthy, natural life it is for them."
"Healthy! natural!" cried the Doctor sharply. "So you want to see him
grow up into a sort of Peter the Wild Boy, madam?"
"No," said Mrs Burnet, exchanging an affectionate glance with her
sun-tanned son. "Peter the Wild Boy did not have a college tutor to
teach him the classics, did he, Vince?"
"No, mother; he must have been a lucky fellow," said the boy, laughing.
"For shame, Vincent!" cried Mrs Burnet, shaking her head at the boy
reprovingly. "You do not mean that."
"I believe he does," said the Doctor angrily. "I won't have any more of
it. He neglects his studies shamefully."
"No, no, indeed, dear," cried Mrs Burnet. "You don't know how hard he
works."
"Oh yes, I do: at egging, climbing, fishing, and swimming. I'll have no
more of it; he shall go over to some big school in Germany, where
they'll bring him to his senses."
"I do everything Mr Deane sets me to do, father," said the boy; "and I
do try hard."
"Yes--to break your neck or drown yourself. Look here, sir, when are
you going to pay me my bill?"
"Your bill, father? I don't know what you mean."
"Surgical attendance in mending your broken leg. That's been owing two
years."
"When my ship comes in, father," cried Vince, laughing.
"But, I say, don't send me to a big school, father. I like being here
so much."
"Yes: to waste the golden moments of boyhood, sir."
"But I don't, father," cried Vince. "I really do work hard at
everything Mr Deane sets me, and get it all done before I go out. He
never finds fault."
"Bah! You're getting too big to think of going out to play with Mike
Ladelle."
"But you said, father, that you liked to see a fellow work hard at play
as well as study, and that `all work and no play made Jack a dull boy.'"
"Jack!" cried the Doctor, with his face wrinkling up, as he tried to
look very severe. "Yes Jack. But you're not Jack: he was some common
fisherman's or miner's boy, not the son of a medical man--a gentleman.
There, go and dress that wound in his trousers, my dear."
"And you won't send me off to school, father? I do like private study
at home so much better!"
"Humph! I don't know whether you're aware of it, sir, but you've got a
very foolish, indulgent father, who is spoiling you."
"No, he did not know that," said Mrs Burnet, smiling, as she looked
from one to the other proudly. "And it is not true, is it, Vince?"
"No, mother, not a bit of it," cried the boy.
"And I feel sure that father will not send you away if you try hard to
master all your lessons with Mr Deane."
"Well, it isn't your father who is spoiling you now, Vince," said the
Doctor. "There: I'll give you another six months' trial; and, here--
which way are you going?"
"Round by the south cliff to look for Mike Ladelle."
"Ah, I daresay he's shut up in his father's study hard at work!"
"No, father; I've been up to the house, and they said he had gone out."
"There, go and get mended; and you may as well leave this medicine for
me at James Carnach's. It will be ready for you by the time your mother
has done."
"Yes, father--I'll come," cried the boy; and he hurried out of the
surgery.
"Ah!" said the Doctor, "you undo all my work by your foolish
indulgence."
Mrs Burnet smiled.
"I should be very miserable," she said, "if I could feel that all you
say is true."
"But see what a reckless young rascal he grows."
"No, I cannot see that, dear," replied Mrs Burnet. "He is a thorough,
natural boy, and I am glad to find him so fond of outdoor life."
"And not of his studies?"
"He works very hard at them, dear; and I'm sure you want to see him grow
up manly."
"Of course."
"And not a weak, effeminate lad, always reading books over the fire."
"No, but--"
"Let him go on as he is, dear," said Mrs Burnet gently; "and show him
that you take an interest in his sports."
"Spoil him more still?"
"No: encourage him in his love of natural history."
"And making the place untidy with his messing about. I say: by the way,
have you been at that bottle of acid?"
"I? No, dear."
"Then he has, for some of his sham experiments."
"Mother!"
"Coming, my dear," cried Mrs Burnet, in answer to the call; and she
hurried into the house, leaving the Doctor to write out the directions
upon a label, so that Jemmy Carnach--fisherman when the sea was calm,
and farmer when it was rough--might not make a mistake when he received
his bottle of medicine, and take it all at once, though it would not
have hurt him if he had.
"Nice boy!" muttered the Doctor, as he made a noose in a piece of twine
and carefully tied the label to the bottle; "but I wish the young plague
had been a girl."
At that moment Vince was standing with one foot upon a stool, so that
the knee of his trousers was within easy reach of his mother's busy
fingers, while the bright needle flashed in and out, and the long slit
was gradually being reduced in extent.
"Mind, mother! don't sew it to the skin," he said laughingly; and then,
bending down, he waited his opportunity, and softly kissed the glossy
hair close to his lips.
"I say, mother," he whispered, "don't have me sent away. Father doesn't
mean it, does he?"
"I don't think so, my dear; but he wants to see you try hard to grow
into a manly, sensible lad."
"Well, that's what I am trying to do."
Mrs Burnet took hold of her son's none too clean hand, turned it over,
and held up the knuckles, which seemed to have been cracked across, but
were nearly healed.
"Well, I couldn't help that, mother," protested the boy. "You wouldn't
have had me stand still and let young Carnach knock Mike Ladelle about
without helping him?"
"I don't like fighting, Vince," said Mrs Burnet, with a sigh; "it seems
to me brutal."
"Well, so it is, mother, when it's a big, strong fellow ill-using a
small one. But it can't be brutal for a little one to stick up for
himself and thrash the big coward, can it?"
"That is a question upon which I cannot pretend to decide, Vince. You
had better ask your father."
"Oh, no! I shan't say anything about it," replied the boy, giving his
short shock-brown hair a rub. "I don't like talking about it. Nearly
done?"
"Yes, I am fastening off the thread."
There was a snip given directly after by a pair of scissors; Vince gave
his leg a shake to send the trouser down in its place, and then stooped
and kissed the sweet, placid face so close to his.
"There," he cried; "don't you tell me I didn't pay you for mending the
tear."
"Ready, Vince?" said the Doctor, entering with the bottle neatly done up
in white paper.
"Yes, father."
"Mind, sir! don't break it."
"No, father: all right."
The next minute Vince was trotting sharply down the road towards the
rough moorland, which he had to partly traverse before turning down a
narrow track to the cliff edge, where, in a gap, half a dozen
fishermen's cottages were built, sheltered from the strong south-west
wind.
"You will not send him away, Robert?" said Mrs Burnet.
"Humph! Well, no," said the Doctor, wrinkling up his brow; "it would
seem so dull if he were gone."
CHAPTER TWO.
"TWO FOR A PAIR."
"Hullo, Cinder!"
"Hullo, Spoon!"
"Who are you calling Cinder?"
"Who are you calling Spoon?"
"You. Well, Ladle then, if you don't like Spoon."
"And you have it Scorcher if you like, old Burnet."
"Burnet's a better name than Ladelle."
"Oh, is it! I don't know so much about that, Vincey. And it isn't
pronounced as if it was going into a soup tureen. You know that well
enough. It's a fine old French name."
"Of course I know your finicking way of calling it _Lah Delle_; but, if
you're English, it's Ladle. Ha, ha, ha! Ladle for frog soup, Frenchy."
"You won't be happy till I've punched your head, Vince Burnet."
"Shan't I? All right, then: make me happy," said Vince to another
sun-browned lad whom he had just encountered among the furze and
heather--all gold and purple in the sunny islet where they dwelt--and in
the most matter-of-fact way he took off his jacket; and then began a
more difficult task, which made him appear like some peculiar animal
struggling out of its skin: for he proceeded to drag off the tight blue
worsted jersey shirt he wore, and, as it was very elastic, it clung to
his back and shoulders as he pulled it over his head, and, of course,
rendered him for the moment helpless--a fact of which his companion was
quite ready to take advantage.
"Want to fight, do you?" he cried: "you shall have it then," and,
grinning with delight, he sprang upon the other's back, nipping him with
his knees, and beginning to slap and pummel him heartily.
Vince Burnet made a desperate effort to get free, but the combination of
his assailant's knees and the jersey effectively imprisoned him, and,
though he heaved and tossed and jerked himself, he could not dislodge
the lad, who clung to him like Sinbad's old man of the sea, till he fell
half exhausted in a thick bed of heather, where he was kept down to
suffer a kind of roulade of thumps, delivered very heartily upon his
back as if it were a drum.
"Murder! murder!" cried Vince, in smothered tones, with the jersey over
his head.
"Yes, I'll give you murder! I'll give you physic! How do you like
that, and that, and that, Doctor?"
Each question was followed by a peculiar double knock on back or ribs.
"Don't like it at all, Mike. Oh, I say, do leave off!"
"Shan't. Don't get such a chance every day. I'll roast your ribs for
you, my lad."
"No, no: I give in. I'm done."
"Ah! that sounds as if you didn't feel sure. As your father says to me
when I'm sick, I must give you another dose."
"No, no, don't, please," cried Vince: "you hurt."
"Of course I do. I mean it. How many times have you hurt me?"
"But it's cowardly to give it to a fellow smothered up like I am."
"'Tisn't cowardly: it's the true art of war. Get your enemy up in a
corner where he can't help himself, and then pound him like that, and
that."
"Oh!--oh!"
"Yes, it is `Oh!' I never felt any one with such hard, bony ribs
before; Jemmy Carnach is soft compared to you."
"I say, you're killing me!"
"Am I? Like to be killed?"
"No. Oh! I say, Mike, don't, there's a good fellow! Let me get up."
"Are you licked?"
"Yes, quite."
"Will you hit me if I let you get up?"
"No, you coward."
_Bang, bang_.
"Oh! I say, don't!"
"Am I a coward, then?"
"Yes.--Oh!"
"Now am I a coward?"
"No, no. You're the bravest, best fellow that ever lived."
"Then you own you're beaten?"
"Oh yes, thoroughly. I say, Mike, I can hardly breathe. Honour
bright!"
"Say, you own you're licked, then."
"Yes. Own I'm licked, and--Ah-h-ah!"
Vince gave a final heave, and with such good effect that his assailant
was thrown, and by the time he had recovered himself Vince's red face
was reappearing from the blue jersey, which the boy had tugged down into
its normal position.
"Oh! won't I serve you out for this some day, Mikey!" he cried, as the
other stood on his guard, laughing at him.
"You said you were beaten."
"Yes, for to-day; but I can't afford to let you knock me about like
this. I say, you did hurt."
"Nonsense! I could have hit twice as hard as that. Pull your jersey
over your head again, and I'll show you."
"Likely! Never mind, old chap," said Vince, giving himself a shake;
"I'll save it up for you. Phew! you have made me hot."
"Do you good," said Mike, imitating his companion by throwing himself
down at full length upon the elastic heath, to lie gazing at the
brilliant blue sea, stretching far away to where a patch of amethyst
here and there on the horizon told of other islands, bathed in the
glowing sunshine.
The land ended a hundred yards from where the two lads lay as suddenly
as if it had been cut sharply off, and went down perpendicularly some
two hundred and fifty feet to where the transparent waves broke softly,
with hardly a sound, amongst the weedy rocks, all golden-brown with
fucus, or running quietly over the yellow sand, but which, in a storm,
came thundering in, like huge banks of water, to smite the face of the
cliff, fall back and fret, and churn up the weed into balls of froth,
which flew up, and were carried by the wind right across the island.
"Where's old Deane?" said Vince suddenly.
"Taken a book to go and sit on the rock shelf and read Plutarch. I say,
what a lot he does know!"
"No wonder," said Vince, who was parting the heather and peering down
beneath: "he's always reading. I wish he was fonder of coming out in a
boat and fishing or sailing."
"So do I," said Mike. "We'd make him do the rowing. Makes us work hard
enough."
"I don't see why he shouldn't help us," continued Vince. "Father says a
man ought to look after his body as well as his brains, so as always to
be healthy and strong."
"Why did he say that?" said Mike sharply.
"Because it was right," said Vince. "My father's always right."
"No, he isn't. He didn't know what was the matter with my dad."
Vince laughed.
"What are you grinning at?"
"What you said. He knew well enough, only he wouldn't say because he
did not want to offend your father."
"What do you mean?"
"That he always sat indoors, and didn't take enough exercise."
"Pish! The Doctor did not know," said Mike sharply, and colouring a
little; "and I don't believe he wants people to be well."
"Hi! Look here!" cried Vince excitedly. "Lizard!"
A little green reptile, looking like a miniature crocodile, disturbed by
the lad's investigating hands, darted out from beneath the heath into
the sunshine; and Mike snatched off his cap, and dabbed it over the
little fugitive with so true an aim that as he held the cap down about
three inches of the wiry tail remained outside.
"Got him!" cried Mike triumphantly.
"Well, don't hurt it."
"Who's going to hurt it!"
"You are. Suppose a Brobdig-what-you-may-call-him banged a great cap
down over you--it would hurt, wouldn't it?"
"Not if I lay still; and there wouldn't be a bit of tail sticking out if
he did," said Mike laughing.--"I'm not going to hurt you, old chap, but
to take you home and put you in the conservatory to catch and eat the
flies and blight. Come along."
"Where are you going to put him?"
"In my pocket till I go home. Look here: I'll put my finger on his tail
and hold him while you lift my cap; then I can catch him with my other
hand."
"Mind he don't bite."
"Go along! He can't bite to hurt. Ready?"
"Yes," said Vince, stretching out his hand. "Better let him go."
"Yes, because you don't want him. I do. Now, no games."
"All right."
"Up with the cap, then."
Vince lifted the cap, and burst out laughing, for it was like some
conjuring trick--the lizard was gone.
"Why, you never caught it!" he said.
"Yes, I did: you saw its tail. I've got it under my hand now."
"You've dropped it," cried Vince. "Lift up."
Mike raised his hand, and there, sure enough, was the lizard's tail,
writhing like a worm, and apparently as full of life as its late owner,
but, not being endowed with feet, unable to escape.
"Poor little wretch!" said Vince; "how horrid! But he has got away."
"Without his tail!"
"Yes; but that will soon grow again."
"Think so?"
"Why, of course it will: just as a crab's or lobster's claw does."
"Hullo, young gentlemen!" said a gruff voice, and a thick-set, elderly
man stopped short to look down upon them, his grim, deeply-lined brown
face twisted up into a smile as he took off an old sealskin cap and
began to softly polish his bald head, which was surrounded by a thick
hedge of shaggy grey hair, but paused for a moment to give one spot a
rub with his great rough, gnarled knuckles. His hands were enormous,
and looked as if they had grown into the form most suitable for grasping
a pair of oars to tug a boat against a heavy sea.
His dress was exceedingly simple, consisting of a coarsely-knitted blue
jersey shirt that might have been the great-grandfather of the one Vince
wore; and a pair of trousers, of a kind of drab drugget, so thick that
they would certainly have stood up by themselves, and so cut that they
came nearly up to the man's armpits, and covered his back and chest,
while the braces he wore were short in the extreme. To finish the
description of an individual who played a very important part in the
lives of the two island boys, he had on a heavy pair of fisherman's
boots, which might have been drawn up over his knees, but now hung
clumsily about his ankles, like those of smugglers in a penny picture,
as he stood looking down grimly, and slowly resettled his sealskin cap
upon his head.
"What are you two a-doing of?" he asked. "Nothing," said Mike shortly.
"And what brings you round here?"
"I've been taking Jemmy Carnach a bottle of physic; and we came round,"
cried Vince. "Why?"
"Taking Jemmy Carnach a bottle of physic," said the old fellow, with a
low, curious laugh, which sounded as if an accident had happened to the
works of a wooden clock. "He's mighty fond o' making himself doctor's
bills. I'd ha' cured him if he'd come to me."
"What would you have given him, Daygo?"
"Give him?" said the man, rubbing his great brown eagle-beak nose with a
finger that would have grated nutmeg easily: "I'd ha' give him a mug o'
water out of a tar tub, and a lotion o' rope's end, and made him dance
for half an hour. He'd ha' been `quite well thank ye' to-morrow
morning."
Vince laughed.
"Ay, that's what's the matter with him, young gentleman. A man who
can't ketch lobsters and sell 'em like a Christian, but must take 'em
home, and byle 'em, and then sit and eat till you can see his eyes
standing out of his head like the fish he wolfs, desarves to be ill.
Well, I must be off and see what luck I've had."
"Come on, Mike," cried Vince, springing up--an order which his companion
obeyed with alacrity.
The old fellow frowned and stared.
"And where may you be going?" he asked.
"Along with you," said Vince promptly.
"Where?"
"You said you were going out to look at your lobster-pots and nets,
didn't you?"
"Nay, ne'er a word like it," growled the man.
"Yes, you did," cried Mike. "You said you were going to see what luck
you'd had."
"Ay, so I did; but that might mean masheroons or taters growing, or
rabbit in a trap aside the cliff."
"Yes," said Vince, laughing merrily; "or a bit of timber, or a sea
chest, or a tub washed up among the rocks, mightn't it, Mike? Only
fancy old Joe Daygo going mushrooming!"
"You're a nice sarcy one as ever I see," said the man, with another of
his wooden-wheel laughs. "I like masheroons as well as any man."
"Yes, but you don't go hunting for them," said Vince; "and you never
grow potatoes; and as for setting a trap for a rabbit--not you."
"You're fine and cunning, youngster," said the man, with a grim look;
and his keen, clear eyes gazed searchingly at the lad from under his
shaggy brows.
"Sit on the cliff with your old glass," said Vince, "when you're not
fishing or selling your lobsters and crabs. He don't eat them himself,
does he, Mike?"
"No. My father says he makes more of his fish than any one, or he
wouldn't be the richest man on the island."
The old man scowled darkly.
"Oh! Sir Francis said that, did he?"
"Yes, I heard him," cried Vince; "and my father said you couldn't help
being well off, for your place was your own, and it didn't cost you
anything to live, so you couldn't help saving."
A great hand came down clap on the lad's shoulder, and it seemed for the
moment as if he were wearing an epaulette made out of a crab, while the
gripping effect was similar, for the boy winced.
"I say, gently, please: my shoulder isn't made of wood."
"No, I won't hurt you, boy," growled the old fellow; "but your father's
a man as talks sense, and I won't forget it. I'll be took bad some day,
and give him a job, just to be neighbourly."
"Ha, ha!" laughed Vince.
"What's the matter?" growled the old man, frowning.
"You talking of having father if you were ill. Why, you'd be obliged
to."
"Nay. If I were bad I dessay I should get better if I curled up and
went to sleep."
"Send for me, Joe Daygo," cried Mike merrily, "and I'll bring Vince
Burnet. We'll give you a mug of water out of a tar-barrel, and make you
dance with the rope's end."
"Nay, nay, nay! don't you try to be funny, young Ladle."
"_Ladelle_!" shouted the boy angrily.
"Oh, very well, boy. Only don't you try to be funny: young doctor
here's best at that."
All the same, though, the great heavy fellow broke into another fit of
wooden chuckling, nodded to both, and turned to go, but back on the
track by which he had come.
Vince gave Mike a merry look, and they sprang after him, and the man
faced round.
"What now?"
"We're coming out with you, Joe Daygo."
"Nay; I don't want no boys along o' me."
"Oh yes, you do," said Vince. "I say--do take us, and we'll row all the
time."
"I don't want no one to row me. I've got my sail."
"All right, then; we'll manage the sail, and you can steer."
"Nay; I don't want to be capsized."
"Who's going to capsize you? I say, do take us."
The man scowled at them both, and filed his sharp, aquiline nose with a
rough finger as if hesitating; then, swinging himself round, he strode
off in his great boots, which crushed down heather and furze like a pair
of mine stamps. But he uttered the words which sent a thrill through
the boys' hearts--and those words were:
"Come on!"
CHAPTER THREE.
A DAY AT SEA.
Daygo's big boots crushed something beside the heather and little tufts
of fine golden gorse; for as they went along a slope the sweet aromatic
scent of wild thyme floated to the boys' nostrils; and the bees,
startled from their quest for honey, darted to right and left, with a
low, humming noise, which was the treble, in Nature's music, to the
soft, low bass which came in a deep whisper from over the cliff to the
right. And as the boys drew in long, deep draughts of the pure, fresh
air which bathed their island home, their eyes were full of that happy
light which spoke volumes of how they were in the full tide of true
enjoyment of life in their brightest days.
They could not have expressed what they felt--perhaps they were
unconscious of the fact: that knowledge was only to come later on, in
the lookings-back of maturity; but they knew that the moor about them
seemed beautiful, and there was a keen enjoyment of everything upon
which their eyes rested, whether it was the purple and golden-green
slope, or the wondrous lights upon the ever-changing sea.
"Hi! look! There goes a mag," cried Mike, as one of the brilliantly
plumed birds rose suddenly from among some grey crags, and went off in
its peculiar flight, the white of its breast of the purest, and the sun
glancing from the purple, gold and green upon its wings and lengthy
tail.
"Hooray!--another--and another--and another!" cried Vince, who the next
moment passed from the enjoyment of the beautiful in nature to the
grotesque; for he covered his lips with one hand to smother a laugh, and
pointed with the other to a huge square patch of drugget laboriously
stitched upon the back of the solid-looking trousers to strengthen them
for sitting upon the thwart of a boat, a rock, or a bush of furze,
which, when so guarded against, makes a pleasantly elastic seat.
But Vince's companion did not find it so easy to control his mirth; for,
as he gazed at the gigantic trousers in motion along the slope, their
appearance seemed so comic, in conjunction with Vince's mirthful face,
that he burst into a hearty laugh.
Vince gave him a heavy punch in the ribs, which was intended to mean:
"Now you've done it: he won't let us come!"
But old Daygo did not look round; he only shook his head and shouted:
"Won't do, young Ladle--_Ladelle_: you're thinking about the tar water,
but you can't be so funny as he."
The boys exchanged glances, but did not try to explain; neither speaking
till, to their surprise, the man turned suddenly to his right, and made
for a huge buttress which ran out some fifty feet from the rugged edge
of the cliff and ended in a soft patch of sheep-nibbled, velvet grass,
upon which lay, partly buried, a couple of long iron guns, while the
remains of a breastwork of stone guarded the edge of the cliff.
"I say! where are you going?" cried Vince.
"Eh? Here," said the man, sitting down astride of one of the old
cannon. "Think I was going to pitch you off?"
"No," said Vince coolly, as he went close to the edge and looked down at
the deeply-coloured purple, almost black, water at the foot of the
cliff, where there was not an inch of strand. "Wouldn't much matter if
you did: it's awfully deep there, and no rocks. I could swim."
"Swim? Wheer?" said the man sharply. "No man could swim far there.
T'reble currents and deep holes, where the tide runs into and sucks you
down if it don't take you out to sea. Nobody's safe there."
"Might go all right in a boat," said Vince, still gazing down, attracted
by the place, where he had often watched before, and noted how the
cormorants, shags, and rock-doves flew in and out, disappearing beneath
his feet--for the great buttress overhung the sea, and its face could
only be seen by those who sailed by.
"Nay, nay; no one goes in a boat along here, boy. There, I'm going to
fill my pipe and light it, and then we'll go. Which o' you's got a
sun-glass?"
"I have," said Vince quickly.
"Let's have it, then: save me nicking about with my flint and steel."
The rough black pipe was filled, and the convex lens held so that the
sun's rays were brought to a focus on the tobacco, which dried rapidly,
crisped up, and soon began to smoke, when a few draws ignited the whole
surface, and the man began to puff slowly and regularly as he handed
back the glass.
"It's nothing a boy could do," he said, with one of his fierce, grim
looks, "so don't you two get a-glowering at a pipe like that."
"Get out!" said Vince quickly. "I wasn't thinking about that. I was
wondering who first found out that you could get fire from the sun."
"Some chap as had a spy-glass," said the old fellow, "and unscrewed the
bottom same as I do when I wants a light. Might ha' fired one o' these
here with a glass if you put a bit o' tinder in the touch-hole."
"Yes," said Vince, "if the French had come."
"Tchah!" ejaculated the man contemptuously: "all fools who put the guns
about the island! No Frenchies couldn't ha' come and landed here.
Wants some one as knows every rock to sail a small boat, let alone a
ship o' war. All gone to pieces on the rocks if they'd tried."
"Same as the old Spaniards did with the Armada," said Vince.
"Spannles! Did they come?"
"To be sure they did, and got wrecked and beaten and sunk, and all
sorts."
"Sarve 'em right for being such fools as to come without a man aboard as
knowed the rocks and currents and tides. Dessay I could ha' showed 'em;
on'y there's nowhere for 'em to harbour."
"You'd better not try, if ever they want to come again," cried Vince,
with animation. "Father says you are a Spaniard."
"Me?" cried the man, starting. "Not me. I'm English, flesh and bone."
"No: father says Spanish."
"Your father knows something about salts and senny," growled the old
fellow, "but I know more about Joe Daygo o' the Crag than any man going.
English right down to my boots."
"No: Spanish descent, father says," persisted Vince. "He says he goes
by your face and your name."
"What does he mean?" said the man fiercely. "Good a face as his'n!"
"And principally by your nose. He says it's a regular Spanish one."
"He don't know what he's talking about," growled the old man, rubbing
the feature in question. "How can it be Spanish when all the rest of
me's English?"
"It's the shape," continued Vince; while Mike lay on his back, listened,
and stared up at the grey gulls which went sailing round between him and
the vividly blue sky. "He says there isn't another nose in the island a
bit like it."
"Tell him he'd better leave my nose alone. But he is right there: there
arn't a nose like it--they're all round or stunted, or turn t'other way
up."
"Then he says your name Daygo's only a corruption of Diego, which is
Spanish for James."
"Yah! It's Daygo--Joe Daygo--and not James at all. He's thinking about
Jemmy Carnach."
"And he says he feels sure your people came over with the Spanish
Armada, and you're descended from some sailor, named Diego, who was
wrecked."
"You tell your father to mix his physic," grumbled the man
sourly.--"Here, are you two going to stop here talking all day?"
"No," cried Mike, springing up, his example being followed by Vince, who
was riding on the breech of the other gun.
"Then come on," growled the man, who made off now at a tremendous rate.
Away over furze, and up and down over sunny slopes, where the
fallow-chats rose, showing their white tail coverts; in and out among
bare patches of granite, which rose above the great clumps of gorse; and
still on, till all before them was sea. Then he began to rapidly
descend a gully, where everything that was green was left behind, and
they were between two vast walls of rock, almost shut-in by a natural
breakwater stretching across, half covered by the sea and sand. Below
them, in a natural pool, lay a boat which might have been built and
launched to sail upon the tiny dock of stone; for there was apparently
no communication with the sea, so well was it shut off from where, as
the bare and worn masses of grey rock showed, the waves must come
thundering in when the west wind blew.
Old Daygo went clumping down in his heavy boots, and the boys followed,
soon to reach where stones as big as cheeses lay in a long slope,
whither they had been hurled by the storms, and were rolled over till
they were smooth and roughly round as the pebbles in a stream. Next
they had to mount a great barrier, which now hid the boat, and then
descended to its side, where it lay in the pool, only about twice as big
as itself, but which proved now to be the widening out of a huge crack
in the granite rocks, and zigzagged along to the sea, full of clear
water at all times, and forming a sheltered canal to the tiny dock.
"Some on 'em 'd like to have that bit o' harbour," said the man, with a
grin which showed his great white teeth; "but it's mine, and always will
be. Jump in."
The boys obeyed, and the man fetched a boat-hook with a very sharp, keen
point, from where it hung, in company with some well-tarred ropes, nets,
and other fishing-gear, in a sheltered nook amongst the rocks, and then
joined them, and began to push the boat along the narrow waterway.
At the first wave sent rippling outward by the movement of the boat,
there was a rush and splash a dozen yards in front, as a shoal of
good-sized fish darted seaward, some in their hurry leaping right out of
the water, to fall in again with a plunge, which scared the rest in
their flight.
The boys sprang up excitedly, and Daygo nodded.
"Ay," he said, "if we'd knowed they was there, we might ha' crep along
the rocks and dropped a net acrost, and then caught the lot."
"Mullet, weren't they?" said Vince.
"Yes: grey ones," said Mike, shading his eyes, and following the wave
made by the retiring shoal.
"Ay--grey mullet, come up to see if there was anything to eat. Smelt
where I'd been cleaning fish and throwing it into the water."
The boat went on after the shoal of fish, in and out along the great
jagged rift leading seaward, their way seeming to be barred by a
towering pyramid of rock partly detached from the main island, while the
sides of the fault grew higher and higher till they closed in overhead,
forming a roughly-arched tunnel, nearly dark; but as soon as they were
well in, the light shining through the end and displaying a framed
picture of lustrous sea glittering in the sunlight, of which enough was
reflected to show that the sides of the tunnel-like cavern were dotted
with limpets, and the soft, knob-shaped, contracted forms of sea
anemones that, below the surface, would have displayed tentacles of
every tint, studded, as it were, with gems.
The roof a few feet above their heads echoed, and every word spoken went
whispering along, while the iron point and hook of the implement old
Daygo used gave forth a loud, hollow, sounding click as it was struck
upon side or roof from time to time.
"I say," cried Vince suddenly, "we never tried for a conger along here,
Mike."
"No good," growled Daygo.
"Why?" said Vince, argumentatively. "Looks just the place for them:
it's dark and deep."
"Ay, so it is, boy; and I daresay there arn't so many of they mullet
gone back to sea as come up the hole."
"Then there are congers here?"
"Ay, big uns, too; but the bottom's all covered with rocks, and there's
holes all along for the eels to run in, and when you hook 'em they twist
in, and you only lose your line."
He gave the boat a vigorous shove, and it glided out into the light once
more, a hundred yards from the cliff, but with the rugged pyramid of
granite through which they had passed towering up behind them, and its
many shelves dotted with sea-birds lazily sunning themselves and
stretching out their wings to dry.
A few flew up, uttering peculiar cries, as the boat darted out of the
dark arch beneath them; but, for the most part, they merely looked down
and took no further notice--the boat and its little crew being too
familiar an object to excite their fear, especially as its occupants did
not land, and the egg-time was at an end.
"Now, then, up with the mast, lads!" said the old man; and cleverly
enough the boys stepped the little spar by thrusting its end through a
hole in the forward thwart and down into a socket fixed in the inner
part of the keel. Then the stays were hooked on, hauled taut, and up
went the little lug-sail smartly enough, the patch of brown tanned
canvas filling at once, and sending the boat gliding gently along over
the rocks which showed clearly deep down through the crystal sea.
"Soon know how to manage a boat yourselves," said the old man grimly, as
he thrust an oar over the stern and used it to steer.
"Manage a boat ourselves!" cried Mike. "I should think we could--eh,
Vince?"
"Should think you could!" said the old man laughing. "Ah! you think you
could, but you can't. Why, I hardly know how yet, after trying for
fifty year. Wants some larning, boys, when tide's low, and the rocks
are bobbing up and down ready to make holes in the bottom. Don't you
two be too sure, and don't you never go along here far without me."
The boys said nothing; but they felt the truth of the man's words as he
steered them in and out among the jagged masses of granite, around which
the glassy currents glided, now covering them from sight, now leaving
bare their weed-hung, broken-out fangs; while on their left, as they
steered north toward a huge projection, which ran right out on the far
side of a little bay, the perpendicular cliffs rose up grey and grand,
defended by buttresses formed by masses that had fallen, and pierced
every here and there by caverns, into which the water ran and rushed
with strange, hollow, whispering noises and slaps and gurglings, as if
there were peculiar creatures far up in the darkness resenting being
disturbed.
Every now and then the sea, as it heaved and sank, laid bare some
rounded mass covered with long, hanging sea-weed, which parted on the
top and hung down on either side, giving the stone the appearance of
some strange, long-haired sea monster, which had just thrust its head
above the surface to gaze at the boat, and once this was so near that
Mike shrank from it as it peered over the thwart, the boat almost
grating against the side.
"Wasn't that too close?" said Vince quickly.
"Nay," said the old man quietly: "if you didn't go close to that rock,
you'd go on the sharp rock to starboard. There's only just room to
pass."
A minute later, as the two lads, were gazing in at the gloomy portals of
a water-floored cave, in and out of which birds were flying, a dexterous
turn of the oar sent the boat quickly round, head to wind, the sail
flapped over their heads, and Vince seized the boat-hook without being
told, and, reaching over the side, hooked towards him a couple of
good-sized pieces of blackened cork, through which a rope had been
passed and knotted to prevent its return.
This rope Mike seized, hauled upon it, drawing the boat along, till it
was right over something heavy, which, on being dragged to the surface,
proved to be a great beehive-shaped, cage-like basket, weighted with
stones, and provided with a funnel-like entrance at the top.
"Nothing!" cried Mike; and the lobster-pot was allowed to sink back into
the deep water among the rocks as soon as it had been examined to see if
it contained bait.
Then there was another short run, and a fresh examination of one of
these trap-like creels, with better success; for a good-sized lobster
was found to be inside, and, after two or three attempts, Vince seized
it across the back, and drew it out as it flicked its tail sharply, and
vainly sought to take hold of its aggressor with its formidable,
pincer-armed claws.
Old Daygo hooked the lobster towards him with the toe of his boot,
clapped it between his knees, and cleverly tied its claws with pieces of
spun yarn before dropping the captive into a locker in the stern, half
full of water, which was admitted through holes in the side.
A couple more lobster-pots were tried, without success, as the boat
glided along by the side of the great granite cliffs, where the many
black cormorants, which made the shelves and points their home, gave
ample reason for the solitary island, far out among the rushing waters
of the fierce currents, to be named Cormorant Crag by all who sailed
that way, and avoided as the most dangerous rock-bound place off the
coast.
Then came a change, the boat being steered to a channel which ran
between a mighty mass of piled-up granite and the cliffs. This gap was
about forty yards wide, and the pent-up waters rushed through, eddying
and rippling, and taking the boat along at a rapid rate. But Daygo
steered close enough in to enable him to throw the little grapnel in the
bottom of the boat on to the rocks nearest the cliffs. The iron caught
at once, the line was checked and fastened, and the boat, swung now in
the swift race close to a little keg, from which ran a row of corks,
anchored in a calmer place across the tide.
"Down with the lug!" growled the old man. His crew lowered the sail
quickly, and stowed it out of their way, for the chief feature of the
little trip was close at hand. Old Daygo went forward now, shaking his
head at the boys' progress of hauling in the trawl-net line themselves.
"Ay," he said; "you can take out the fish if there be any." And he
methodically dragged the net, which had been stretched like so many
walls of meshes overnight right across the swift waters of the tide,
having been down long enough for the ebb and flow both to pass through
it, with the consequence that, if fish had passed that way, they would
have been pocketed or become netted among the meshes from either side.
But a good deal of the net was dragged into the boat before the
glittering scales of a fish were seen.
"Red mullet!" cried Vince, as he pounced upon two small ones, looking as
if clothed in mother-o'-pearl, speckled and stained with scarlet.
These were taken out and thrown into the locker, with the result that
the lobster flipped its tail and splashed about furiously. But by this
time there was a golden gleam in the net drawn aboard; taking his turn,
Mike dragged out a grotesque-looking, big-headed John Dory, all
golden-green upon its sides, and bearing the two dark marks, as if a
giant finger and thumb had been imprinted upon it. This, too, with its
great eyes staring, and wide mouth gaping feebly, was thrown into the
locker.
Then old Daygo began to growl and mutter: for the meshes showed the
heads only of a fine pair of red mullet, the whole of the bodies having
been eaten away; and a minute later up came the cause, in the shape of a
long, grey, eely-looking fish, which writhed and struggled violently to
get free, but only entangled itself the more tightly.
"Nay, nay! let me come," cried the old man, as he saw the boys whip out
their knives. "I don't want my net cut to pieces; I'll do it myself."
He threw the portion of the net containing the captive on one side in
the bottom of the boat, and hauled in the rest, which contained nothing
but a sickly green, mottled-looking wrasse of about a couple of pounds
weight. Then the lines, cords, and anchors were got on board, and,
leaving the boat to drift with the sharp current which carried it
onward, the old man drew a long, sharp-pointed knife from its sheath,
and cautiously turned over portions of the net.
"Oh, murder!" said Mike.
"Well, how many poor fish has it murdered?" said Vince. "Mind it don't
pike you, Joe!" he shouted.
"I'm a-goin' to, my lad; and you mind, too, when you ketches one.
They'll drive their pike at times right through a thick leather boot;
and the place don't heal kindly afterward. Ha! now I've got you," he
muttered, as, getting one foot well down over the keen spine with which
the fish was armed, and which it was striking to right and left, he held
down the head, and, carefully avoiding the threads of the net, stabbed
it first right through, and then dexterously divided the backbone just
at its junction with the skull, before, with the fish writhing feebly,
he gradually shook it clear of the net, and stood looking viciously down
at his captive.
"Won't eat no more mullet right up to the head, will he, lads?"
"No; he has had his last meal," replied Vince, turning the fish over and
displaying its ugly mouth. "Now, if it was six feet long instead of
four, you'd call it a shark."
"Nay, I shouldn't; and he would be a dog-fish still. Well, he's eat a
many in his time. Now his time's come, and something'll eat him. Hyste
the sail."
The dog-fish--a very large one of its kind--was thrown overboard, the
sail hoisted, and the boat began to glide onward toward the semicircular
bay into which they were drifting, with the huge, massive promontory
straight ahead. Then the oar was pressed down, and the boat began to
curve round.
"Hi! stop! Don't go back yet!" cried Vince.
"Eh? Why not? No more lobster-pots down."
"I want to sail across the bay, and get round by the Scraw."
"What!" cried the old man, looking at him fiercely. "You want to go
there? Well!"
He turned his eyes upon Mike, who encountered the fierce gaze, and said,
coolly enough:
"Well, all right; I want to go too. I've only seen the place at a
distance."
"Ay, and that's all you will ever see on it, 'less you get wings like
one o' they shags," said the old man, pointing solemnly at a great black
bird sunning itself upon an outlying rock. "They've seen it, p'r'aps;
and you may go and lie off, if you're keerful, and see it with a
spy-glass."
"And climb along to the edge of the cliff, and look over?" said Vince.
"What!" cried Daygo, with a look of horror. "Nay, don't you never try
to do that, lad; you'd be sure to fall, and down you'd go into the sea,
where it's all by ling and whizzing and whirling round. You'd be sucked
down at once among the rocks, and never come up again. Ah! it's a
horful place in there for 'bout quarter of a mile. I've knowed boats--
big uns, too--sailed by people as knowed no better, gone too near, and
then it's all over with 'em. They gets sucked in, and away they go.
You never hear of 'em again--not so much as a plank ever comes out!"
"What becomes of them, then?" said Vince, looking at the rugged old
fellow curiously.
"Chawed up," was the laconic reply, as the old fellow shaded his brow,
and gazed long and anxiously beyond the headland they were leaving on
their left.
"But I want to see what it's like," said Mike.
"Ay, and so has lots o' lads, and men, too, afore you, youngster," said
the old man solemnly; "and want's had to be their master. It arn't to
be done."
"Well, look here," continued Mike, for Vince sat very thoughtfully
looking from one to the other as if he had something on his mind: "steer
as close in as it's safe, and let's have a look, then."
"Do what?" roared the old man fiercely.
"Steer as close in as it's safe," repeated Mike. "We want to go, don't
we, Vince?"
The lad nodded.
"Don't I tell you it's not safe nowhere? It's my belief, boys, as
there's some'at 'orrid about that there place. I don't say as there is,
mind you; but I can't help thinking as there's things below as lays hold
o' the keel of a boat and runs it into the curren' as soon as you goes
anywhere near--and then it's all over with you, for you never get back.
Your boat's rooshed round and round as soon as you get clost in, and
she's washed up again the rocks all in shivers, and down they goes, just
as if you tied a little 'baccy-box at the end of a string, and turned it
round and round, and kep' hitting it again the stones."
"Oh! I don't believe about your things under water doing that," said
Mike--"only currents and cross currents: do you, Cinder?"
Vince did not answer, but sat gazing beyond the great headland, looking
very thoughtful.
"Ah, my lad! it's all very well for you to talk," said the old man
solemnly; "but you don't know what there is in the wast deep, nor I
don't neither. I've heerd orful noises come up from out of the Scraw
when the wind's been blowing ashore, and the roarings and moanings and
groanings as come up over the cliffs have been t'reble."
"Yes, but it isn't blowing now," said Mike: "take us in a bit, just
round the point."
"Nay," said the old man, shaking his head; "I won't say I won't, a-cause
I could never face your fathers and mothers again, for I should never
have the chance. I'm getting an old 'un now, and it wouldn't matter so
much about me, though I have made up my mind to live to 'bout a hunderd.
I'm a-thinking about you two lads, as is only sixteen or so."
"Vince is only fifteen," said Mike quickly, as if snatching at the
chance of proving his seniority.
"On'y fifteen!" cried the old man. "Think o' that now--on'y fifteen and
you sixteen, which means as you've both got 'bout seventy or eighty
years more to live if you behave yourselves."
"Oh, gently!" cried Mike; but Vince did not speak.
"And do you think I'm a-going to cut your young lives short all that
much? Nay. My name's Joe Daygo, and I'm English, and I won't do that.
If I'd been what you two young fellows said--a Spannle--it might be
different, but it arn't. There--let's get back; and one on you can have
the lobster, and t'other the Dory and mullet."
"Then you won't take us round by the Scraw?"
"Right, my lad; I won't."
"Then I tell you what: Vince Burnet and I'll get a boat, and have a look
for ourselves. You're not afraid of things catching hold of the keel,
are you, Cinder?"
"No," said the lad quietly, "I don't think I am."
"Well, I've warned you both; so don't you blame me if you don't come
back," growled the old man.
"Why, how can we if we don't come back?" cried Mike merrily.
The old man shook his head, and sat gazing straight before him from
under his shaggy brows, steering carefully, as the boat now had to make
zigzag tacks among the rocks which dotted the surface away from the
cliffs. Then, in answer to a question from his companion, Vince shook
off his fit of thoughtfulness, and sat chatting about the various
objects they saw, principally about the caves they passed, some of which
were low, arched places, excavated by the sea, whose entrances now stood
out clear, now were covered by a wave which came back foaming from the
compressed air it had shut-in. Then the conversation turned upon the
birds, familiar enough to them, but always fresh and new. All along the
face of these vast cliffs, and upon the outlying rocks, was a grand
place for the study of sea-fowl. They were quite unmolested, save at
nesting-time, and then interfered with but little. This was one of
their strongholds, and, as the boat glided along back, the two lads set
themselves to see how many kinds they passed. There were the two kinds
of cormorant, both long, blackish-green birds, the one distinctive from
the other by the clear white, egg-shaped marks on its sides close to the
tail; rows of little sea-parrots, as they are familiarly called--the
puffins, with their triangular bills; the terns, with their swallow-like
flight; and gulls innumerable--black-headed, black-backed, the common
grey, and the beautiful, delicately-plumaged kittiwakes, sailing round
and round in the most effortless way, as if all they needed to do were
to balance themselves upon widespread wing, and then go onward wherever
they willed.
There was plenty to see and hear round Cormorant Crag as the boat sailed
on over the crystal water, till the archway was reached in the pyramid
of granite, when down went the sail, and the boat was thrust onward by
means of the hitcher, the tide having risen so high that in places the
boys had to bend down. Then once more they were in the long, canal-like
zigzag, and soon after in the dock, where they loyally helped the old
man carry up and spread the trammel net to dry, and turned to go.
"Here! stop a minute, youngsters," cried Daygo.
"What for?"
"Arn't got your bit o' fish."
"Oh, I don't want to take it, Joe," said Vince. "You've had bad luck
to-day."
"Never you mind about that, my lad. I get lots o' fish, and I'm dead on
some hammaneggs to-night. I said you two was to have that fish and
lobster; so which is it to be? Who says lobster?"
Nobody said lobster, and the boys laughed.
"Well, if you two won't speak out like men, I must do it myself. Am I
to divide the take, or are you?"
"You give us what you like, Joe," said Vince, who made up his mind to
ask his mother for a pot of jam as a return present, knowing as he did
that the old man had a sweet tooth.
"Right, then; I will," cried Daygo, rolling up his jersey sleeve, and
thrusting a massive arm into the locker, out of which he drew the fish,
the boat's stem having been lifted so that the water had run out.
"There, look here: Doctor Burnet said as lobsters were undo-gestible
things, so you'd better take that there one home with you, Ladle. You
take the fish, Squire Burnet; your mar likes 'em fresh, as I well know."
Mike took the lobster; and the old fellow took a little willow creel
from where it was wedged in a granite crevice, laid some sea-weed at the
bottom, and then packed in the fish.
"Thankye, Daygo," said Mike. "Shall I pay you for it?"
"If you wants to be bad friends, lad," said the old man gruffly.
"Much obliged, Joe," said Vince. "My mother will be so pleased!"
"Ah! and you're a lucky one to have such a mother," growled the great
fellow. "Wish I had."
This brought a roar of laughter from the lads, and Daygo looked fiercely
from one to the other; then the bearing of his remark began to dawn upon
him, and his countenance relaxed into a grim smile.
"Ah! I didn't see," he grumbled out. "Yes, I do look a nice sorter
youngster to have a mother to wash my face, don't I? But here, I say,"
he continued sternly, "you two didn't mean it about getting a boat and
trying to see the Scraw, did you?"
"Yes, to be sure," said Mike sharply.
"Then look here!" cried the old man, bringing his great doubled fist
down into his left palm, with the result that there was a loud crack as
of a mallet falling upon a board; "I've give you both fair warning, and
you'd better take it. You don't know what may come to you if you try
it. I tell you, once for all, that you can't get to see it from the
sea, and you can't get to see it from the shore. Nobody never has, and
nobody never can, and come back 'llve, as that there Johnny Dor'."
"I don't believe any one's had the pluck to try," said Mike stoutly.
"Ah! you're a unbelievin' young rip," growled Daygo fiercely. "But
lookye here: you don't want to upset my lady your mother, Ladle, and you
don't--"
"Look here, Joe Daygo, if you call me Ladle again I'll kick you!" cried
Mike hotly.
"Nay, don't, lad--not yet, till you've practysed a bit on the rocks,
'cause you might hurten your toes. Look here, young Physic: you don't
want to go and break your poor mother's heart, do you?"
"Of course not," said Vince.
"Then don't you go, my lad--don't you go. There--better be off, both on
you. Weather's hot, and fish won't keep. Tell 'em to put some salt in
the pot with that lobster, Ladle; and you'd better have your fish cooked
to-night, Doctor."
Vince turned round and nodded; but the ladle was sticking in Mike's
throat, and he stalked on without making a sign.
Daygo stood watching till the lads had climbed up out of his sight, and
then he went and sat down on a block of granite, and began to rasp his
nose on both sides with his rough, fishy finger, as if engaged in
sharpening the edge of a feature which was sharp enough as it was; and
as he rasped, he looked straight before him at the great rugged cliff.
But he was not thinking of it in the least; his thoughts were half a
mile away, at the most precipitous part of the coast--a spot avoided by
shore-goer and seaman alike, from the ill name it bore, and the dangers
said to attend those who ventured to go near, either climbing or in a
boat.
"Nay," he said at last; "they won't go now."
CHAPTER FOUR.
CINDER HAS DISCOVERY ON THE BRAIN.
"What are you thinking about, Cinder?" said Mike one day, when they were
out together, after a long, hard morning's work up at the Ladelles, over
algebra and Latin, with the tutor who was resident at the Mount, the
Doctor sharing, however, in the cost. "You seem to have been so moony
and stupid lately."
"Have I?" said Vince starting.
"Yes, always going into brown studies. I know: you can't recollect that
problem in Euclid."
"What, the forty-seventh? Why, that's the one I recollect best.
Guess!"
"What you were thinking about?"
Vince nodded.
"Give it up," said Mike.
"The Scraw."
"What about it? That it's guarded by water goblins and sea serpents and
things, as old Joe calls them?"
"No," said Vince quietly: "I've been thinking about it ever since we
were out with him that day in the boat."
"Well, and what do you think?" said Mike, who while he talked was trying
how far he could jerk the flat pieces of oyster-shell, of which there
were plenty near, off the cliff; but with all his skill--and he could
throw far--they seemed, in the immensity around, as if they dropped
close to the cliff foot.
"I think, as I thought that day, that old Joe doesn't want us to go
there."
Mike was about to throw another shell, but he faced round at this with
his curiosity roused.
"Why?"
"Ah! that's what I want to know; and I can't think of any reason why he
shouldn't want us to go there. It seems so queer."
"Yes, it does seem queer," assented Mike.
"Of course the fishermen believe in all kinds of old women's tales about
ghosts and goblins, and ill-wishing and that sort of nonsense, just as
the women do about old Mother Remming's being a witch; but old Joe
always seemed to me to be such a hard, solid old chap, who would laugh
at a story about the fairies coming in the night and drying any one's
cow."
"Well, I always thought something of that sort; but what he says must be
right about the horrible currents among the rocks."
"Yes; there are fierce currents, I suppose, at some times of the tide."
"Well, that means it's dangerous."
"Of course it is, sometimes; but I'm not going to believe all he said."
"Nobody's ever been there."
"Indeed!"
"Oh yes, that's right," said Mike. "I've often heard the men talk about
what an awful place it was, and say they wouldn't go on any account."
"And did that scare you?"
"Well, I don't think it did, because I always felt afterwards that I
should like to climb somewhere along there till I could look over down
to the sea. But of course you couldn't do it."
"I don't know," said Vince; "I should like to try."
"But after what old Joe Daygo said, you couldn't go there in a boat."
"Couldn't you?"
"No."
"Then how is it that old Joe himself can go?"
Mike dropped down on the cliff turf beside his companion and stared at
him. "He never did go!"
"Yes, he did, for I was up on the Gull Cliff one day watching the birds,
and I saw Joe go creeping round underneath in the boat, and sail across
the bay, and then about the great point right in towards the Scraw."
"You mean it, Cinder?"
"Yes."
"It wasn't fancy?"
"No; I'm sure."
"Then there is some reason why he doesn't want us there. I say!"
"Well?"
"Let's go and see."
"You'd be afraid."
"No; I wouldn't if you wouldn't."
"I'll go if you will."
"Then we will. But how? Boat?"
"No; I say let's have a rope and try if we can't climb round by the
cliff. It will be a jolly good adventure, and I keep feeling more and
more as if I wanted to know what it all means."
"Then we will, and I'm ready to begin whenever you are. Why, we may
find a valley of gold."
"Or get a bad tumble."
"We'll risk that."
"Then let's set to and make our plans."
The boys ceased speaking, and became very thoughtful; and, as if to
sharpen their ideas, each took out his knife--a long-hafted jack knife
such as a sailor uses, fastened by a lanyard to his waist. There was
rather a rivalry between them as to which had the biggest,
longest-bladed and sharpest knife--a point that was never decided; and
the blades had rather a hard time of it, for they were constantly being
opened and whetted so as to maintain a razor edge.
But, probably from not being expert, these razor-like edges were not
maintained, and this was partly due to the selection of the sharpener
upon which they were whetted. The sole of a boot is no doubt suitable,
but not when it contains nails, which was the case with those worn by
the lads. The rail of a gate is harmless, while a smooth piece of slate
makes a moderately good enough soft hone. But when it comes to rubbing
a blade upon a piece of gneiss, quartz crystal, or granite, the result
is most unsatisfactory, the edge of the knife being prone to look like a
very bad imitation of a miniature saw.
From force of habit each lad on opening his knife looked round for
something upon which to give his knife a whet; but up there on the soft
turf of a cliff slope whetstones were scarce. Down below on the
wave-washed strand boulders and pebbles were plentiful enough, and in
addition there was the rock; but from where they were it was a good
quarter of a mile to the nearest place where a descent could be safely
made. But the next moment Mike found an oyster-shell, upon which he
began diligently to rub his blade; while, failing this, Vince pulled his
foot across his knee, vigorously stropped his knife on the sole of his
boot, and gave a finishing touch to the edge by passing it to and fro
upon the palm of his hand.
This done, each looked out for something to cut, where there was for
some distance round nothing but grass. This Vince began to shave off
gently, with Mike watching him for a few moments; but the pursuit seemed
to him too trivial, and, after wrinkling up his forehead for a few
moments as if perplexed, an idea struck him, and he began to score the
soft turf in regular lines, as if it were a loin of pork, but with this
difference, that when he had made about a dozen strokes he commenced
cutting between the marks, and sloping his blade so that he carved out
the turf, leaving a series of ridges and furrows as he went on.
This was on his part an ingenious enough way of using the blade, out on
an island cliff on a glorious sunny day; but at the end of a minute it
became as monotonous as it was purposeless, and Vince shut his knife
with a snap, after carefully wiping the blade; while Mike, who had been
blunting the point of his by bringing it in contact with the granite,
which, where they were, only lay three or four inches beneath the velvet
turf, followed suit, after seeing that his knife point would need a good
grinding before he could consider it to be in a satisfactory state.
"Well," said Mike, after they had looked at each other for a few
moments, "how are we going to make our plans?"
"I dunno," replied Vince. "Yes, I do. You can't make plans here.
Let's go and see what the place is like."
"No; that's wrong," said Mike, wrinkling his forehead again. "A general
always makes his plans of how he'll attack a country before he starts,
and takes what is necessary with him."
"Yes, but then he has maps of the country, and knows what he will want.
We have no maps; but we've got the country, so I say let's go and see
first--reconnoitre."
"Very well," said Mike, rising slowly.
"Don't seem very ready," said Vince. "Not scared about it, are you?"
"No, I don't think so," replied Mike thoughtfully; "only doesn't it seem
rather--rather queer to go to a place that is strange, and where you
don't know what there may be?"
"Of course it does," said Vince frankly; "and I am just a little like
that. I suppose it's what the men here all feel, and it keeps them
away."
"Yes, that's it," said Mike eagerly.
"But then, you know, they believe lots of things that we laugh at.
There isn't a man or boy here in Crag would go and sit in the churchyard
on a dark night."
"Well, you wouldn't either," said Mike.
"No, I suppose not," said Vince thoughtfully. "I don't think I believe
in ghosts--I'm sure I don't; and I know that if I saw anything I should
feel it was some one trying to frighten us. But I shouldn't like to go
and sit in a churchyard in the dark, because--because--"
"You'd be afraid," said Mike, with a laugh.
"Yes, I should be afraid, but not as you mean," said the lad. "I should
feel that it was doing a mocking, boasting sort of thing toward the dead
people who were all lying asleep there."
"Dead," interposed Mike.
"No: father says asleep--quietly asleep, after being in pain and
sickness, or being tired out from growing very old."
Mike looked at him curiously, and they were both silent for a few
moments, till Mike said quickly:--
"I say, though, don't it seem queer to you that we've been here all our
lives, and grown as old as we are, without ever going to the top of the
cliff here and looking down into the Scraw?"
"Yes, that's just what I've been thinking ever since old Joe talked to
us as he did. But I don't know that it is queer."
"Well, I do," said Mike: "it's very queer."
"No, it isn't. Ever since we can remember everybody has said that you
can't get there, because nobody could climb up; and then while we were
little we always heard people talk almost in a whisper about it, as if
it were something that oughtn't to be named; and so of course we didn't
think for ourselves, and took all they said as being right. But you
know there may be whirlpools and holes and black caverns and sharp
rocks, and I dare say there are regular monsters of congers down in the
deep places that have never been disturbed."
"And sharks."
"No, I don't think there would be sharks. They live out in the open sea
more, where it's not so rough."
"I say, how big have we ever seen a conger?"
"Why, that one Carnach brought in and said he'd had a terrible fight
with: don't you remember?"
"Yes, I remember; he caught it on a dark thunderstormy day, and said
when he hooked it first, baiting with a pilchard, it came so easy that
he thought it was a little one, and swam up every time he slackened his
line till he got it close to the top. But when he went to hook it in
with his gaff he fell back over the thwart, because as soon as it saw
him it opened its mouth and came over the gunwale with a rush, and
hunted him round the boat till he hit it over the head with his little
axe."
"Yes, I remember," said Vince, taking up the narrative; "and then he
said they had a terrible fight, for it twisted its tail round his leg
and struck at him, getting hold of his tarpaulin coat with its teeth and
holding on till he got the blade of the axe into the cut he had made and
sawed away till he got through the backbone. Oh yes, we heard him tell
the story lots of times about how strong it was, and how it bruised his
leg where it hit him with its tail, and how he was beginning to feel
that, in spite of its head being nearly off, it seemed as if it would
finish him, when all at once it dropped down in the bottom of the boat
and only just heaved about. I used to believe it all, but he always
puts more and more to it whenever he tells the tale. I don't believe it
now."
"But it was a monster."
"Yes: two inches short of seven feet long, and as big round as a
cod-fish; and I don't see why there mayn't be some twice as big in the
Scraw. But I'm not going to believe in there being anything else, Mike;
and we're going to see."
"Nothing horrid living in the caves?"
"Bogies and mermen and Goblin Jacks? No: stuff!"
"But up the cliff: you don't think there's anything there that makes it
so that you can't go? I mean--"
"Dragons like father has in that old Latin book about Switzerland?"
"Yes; you've got pictures of them,--horrid things with wings, that lived
in the mountains and passes."
"All gammon!" cried Vince. "People used to believe in all kinds of
nonsense--magicians, and fiery serpents and dragons, and things that we
laugh about now. There, one can't help feeling a bit shrinky, after all
we've heard and been frightened with by people ever since we were little
bits of chaps; but I mean to go. There's nothing worse about the Scraw
than there is about other dangerous places."
"Ah! you say so now because it's broad daylight and the sun shines, but
you'd talk differently if it was dark as pitch."
"Shouldn't go if it was dark as pitch, because we shouldn't know where
we were going. I say, you're not going to turn tail?"
"No," said Mike, "I'll go with you; but one can't help feeling a bit
shrinky. I'm ready: come on."
"Let's seem as if we were not going, then," said Vince.
"We shan't see anybody if we go round by the Dolmen," said Mike. "There
isn't a cottage after you pass the one on the Crusy common."
"And nobody lives in that now."
"Why?" said Mike quickly. "Think they saw anything? It's nearest to
the Scraw Cliff."
"See anything? No. But they used to feel--the wind. Why, it's the
highest part of Crag Island! Come along."
"One minute," said Mike. "You said you thought old Joe didn't want us
to go there."
"Yes," said Vince.
"Well, wasn't it because in his rough, surly way he likes us, and didn't
want us to get hurt?"
"Perhaps!" said Vince laconically.
"Well, there couldn't be any other reason."
"Yes, there could. It might be a splendid place for fishing, and for
ormers and queens and oysters, and he don't want any one else to find it
out."
"Yes, it might be that," said Mike; and he set his teeth and looked as
if he were going upon some desperate venture from which he might never
return alive.
Vince looked a little uneasy too, but there was determination plainly
written on his countenance as the two lads, after a glance round to see
if they were observed, made off together; over the stony cliff.
CHAPTER FIVE.
WHILE THE RAVEN CROAKED.
It was getting well on in the afternoon, but they had hours of daylight
before them for their task. To reach the spot would have been a trifle
if they had possessed the wings of the grey gull which floated softly
overhead as if watching them. A few minutes would have sufficed; for,
as the boys had often laughingly said when at home in the centre of the
island, where Sir Francis Ladelle's sheltered manor-house stood, near
the Doctor's long granite cottage among the scattered dwellings of the
fisher-farmers of the place, they could not have walked two miles in any
direction without tumbling into the sea. But to reach the mighty cliffs
overhanging the Scraw was not an easy task.
The way they chose was along the eastern side of the island, close to
the sea, where from north point to south point the place was
inaccessible, there being only three places practicable for a landing,
and these lying on the west and south. There the mighty storm-waves had
battered the granite crags for centuries, undermining them in soft veins
till huge masses had fallen again and again, making openings which had
been enlarged till there was one long cove; the fissure where they had
taken boat with old Daygo; and another spot farther to the south.
The lads had not gone far before they curved suddenly to their left, and
struggled through one of the patches of woodland that beautified the
island. This was of oak trees and ilex, dwarfed by their position,
tortured into every form of gnarled elbow and crookedness by the sea
wind, and seldom visited save by the boys, who knew it as a famous spot
for rabbits.
It was hard work getting through this dwarf-oak scrub, but they
struggled on, descending now into a steep ravine quite in the
uninhabited part of the island, and feeling that they might talk and
shout as they pleased--for they were not likely to be heard. But they
were very quiet, and when hawk or magpie was started, or an old nest
seen, they instinctively called each other's attention to it in a
whisper.
After a time they were clear of the sombre wood, and had to commence
another fight in the hollow of the slope they had to climb, for here the
brambles and furze grew in their greatest luxuriance, and had woven so
sturdy a hedge that it was next to impossible to get through.
Perseverance, and a brave indifference to thorns, carried them along;
and at the end of half an hour they were at the bottom of a gigantic
precipice of tumbled-together masses of granite, suggesting that they
were at the beginning of the huge promontory which jutted out into the
sea, and round which Daygo had refused to take them; the beautiful
little rounded bay which they had skirted being to their right; and
forward toward the north, and lying away to their left, being the
situation of the unknown region always spoken of with bated breath, and
called The Scraw.
The lads stopped now, hot, panting and scratched, to stand gazing
upward.
"Tired?" said Mike.
"Yes. No," replied Vince. "Come on."
But Mike did not move. He stood looking before him at the rugged masses
of granite, grey with lichen and surrounded by brambles, reaching up and
up like a gigantic sloping wall that had fallen in ruins.
Vince had begun to climb, and had mounted a few feet, but not hearing
his companion following, he turned back to look.
"Why don't you come on?" he cried.
"I was thinking that we can never get up there."
"Not if you stand still at the bottom," said Vince, laughing; and his
cheery way acted upon Mike's spirits directly, for he began to follow.
It was strange, though, that the laugh which had raised the spirits of
one depressed those of the other; for Vince felt as if it was wrong to
laugh there in that wild solitude, and he started violently as something
rushed from beneath his feet and bounded off to their right.
"Only a rabbit," said Mike, recovering from his own start. "But I say,
Cinder, I never thought that there could be such a wild place as this in
the island. Oh! what's that?"
They were climbing slowly towards a tall ragged pinnacle of granite,
which rose up some ten or fifteen feet by itself, when all at once a
great black bird hopped into sight, looking gigantic against the sky,
gazed down in a one-sided way, and began to utter a series of hoarse
croaks, which sounded like the barkings of a dog.
"Only a raven," said Vince quickly. "Why, I say, Mike, this must be
where that pair we have seen build every year! We must find the nest,
and get a young one or two to bring up."
"Doesn't look as if he'd let us," said Mike, peering round with his eyes
for a stone that he could pick up and hurl at the bird. But, though
stone was in plenty, it was in masses that might be calculated by
hundredweights and tons.
They climbed on slowly, one helping the other over the hardest bits; the
faults and rifts between the blocks of granite, which in places were as
regular as if they had been built up, afforded them foothold; but their
way took them to the left, by the raven, which gave another bark or two,
hopped from the stony pinnacle upon which it had remained perched,
spread its wings, and, after a few flaps to right and then to left, rose
to the broken ridge above their heads, hovered for a moment, and then,
half closing its wings, dived down out of sight.
"Pretty close to the top," cried Vince breathlessly; and he paused to
wipe his streaming face before making a fresh start, bearing more and
more to the left, and finding how solitary a spot they had reached--one
so wild that it seemed as if it had never been trodden by the foot of
man.
They both paused again when not many feet from the summit of the slope,
their climb having been made so much longer by its laborious nature; and
as they stopped, the action of both was the same: they gazed about them
nervously, startled by the utter loneliness and desolation of the spot,
which might have been far away in some Eastern desert, instead of close
to the cliffs and commons about which they had played for years.
Granite blocks and boulders everywhere, save that in places there was a
patch of white heather, ling, or golden starry ragwort; and in spite of
their determination the desire was strong upon them to turn and hurry
back. But for either to have proposed this would have been equivalent
to showing the white feather; and for fear that Vince should for a
moment fancy that he was ready to shirk the task, Mike said roughly,
"Come on," and continued the climbing, reaching the top first, and
stretching out his hand, which was grasped by Vince, who pulled himself
up and sank down by his companion's side to gaze in wonder from the
rugged ridge they had won.
It was not like the edge of a cliff, but a thorough ridge, steep as the
roof of an old-fashioned house, down to where, some fifty feet below
them, the slope ended and the precipice began.
It was rugged enough, but as far as they could see to right or left
there was no way out: they were hemmed in by huge weathered blocks of
granite and the sea. There was the way back, of course; but the desire
upon both now was to go forward, for the curiosity which had been
growing fast ever since they started was now culminating, and they were
eager to penetrate the mystery of the place.
"What are we going to do next?" said Mike. "See if we can't get down to
the shore, of course;" and Vince seated himself between two rugged,
tempest-worn points of rock, and had a long, searching look beyond the
edge of the precipice below him.
First he swept the high barrier of detached rock which stretched before
him two hundred yards or so distant, and apparently shutting in a nearly
circular pool; for he and his companion were at the head of a deep
indentation, the stern granite cliffs curving out to right and left, and
seeming to touch the rocky barrier, which swarmed with birds on every
shelf and ledge, large patches looking perfectly white.
"Seems like a lake," said Mike suddenly, just as Vince was thinking the
same thing.
"Yes, but it can't be," said Vince. "Look down there to the left, how
the tide's rushing in. Looks as if a boat couldn't live in it a
moment."
"And if the tide rushes in boiling like that, there must be a way out.
Think there's a great hole right through under the island?"
"No; it looks deep and still there at the other end of the rocks, and--
yes, you can see from here if you stand up. Why, Ladle, old chap, it is
running."
Vince had risen, taken hold of one of the jagged pieces of rock, stepped
on to a point, and was gazing down to his left at the pent-in sea, which
was rushing through a narrow opening between two towering rocks,
foaming, boiling, and with the waves leaping over each other, as if
forced out by some gigantic power, but evidently hidden from the side of
the sea by the great barrier stretched before them.
"I can't see anything," said Mike.
"Climb up a bit. Here--up above me."
Mike began to climb the rugged granite, and had just reached a position
from whence he could stretch over and see the exit of the pent-in
currents which glided round the little cove or bay, one strongly
resembling the water-filled crater of some extinct volcano, when his
left foot slipped from the little projection upon which he stood, and,
in spite of the frantic snatch he made to save himself, he fell heavily
upon Vince, driving him outward, while he himself dropped within the
ridge, and for the moment it seemed as if Vince was to be sent rolling
down the steep slope and over the edge of the precipice.
But the boy instinctively threw out his hands to clutch at anything to
stop his downward progress, and his right came in contact with Mike's
leg, gripping the trouser desperately, and the next moment he was
hanging at the full extent of his arm upon the slope, his back against
the rock, staring outward over the barrier at the sea, while Mike was
also on his back, but head downward, with his knees bent over the strait
ridge upon which they had so lately been standing.
For quite a minute they lay motionless, too much unnerved by the shock
to attempt to alter their positions; while Vince felt that if the cloth
by which he held so desperately gave way, nothing could save him, and he
must go down headlong to the unseen dangers below.
There was another danger, too, for which he waited with his heart
beating painfully. At any moment he felt that he might drag his
companion over to destruction, and the thought flashed through his
brain, ought he to leave go?
This idea stirred him to action, and he made a vain effort to find rest
for his heels; but they only glided over the rock, try how he would to
find one of the little shelf-like openings formed between the blocks,
which often lay like huge courses of quarried stone.
Then, as he hung there breathing heavily, he found his voice:
"Mike!" he shouted; and the answer came in a smothered tone from the
other slope of the steep ridge.
"Hullo!"
"Can you help me?"
"No: can't move; if I do you'll pull me over."
There was a terrible silence for what seemed to be minutes, but they
were moments of the briefest, before Vince spoke again.
"Can you hold on?"
Silence, broken by a peculiar rustling, and then Mike said: "I think so.
I've got my hand wedged in a crack; but I can't hold on long with my
head down like this. Look sharp! Climb up."
"Look sharp--climb up!" muttered Vince, as, raising his left hand, which
had been holding on to a projection in the rock at his side, he reached
up, and, trying desperately, he managed to get hold of the doubled-over
fold at the bottom of his companion's trouser, cramping his fingers over
it, and getting a second good hold.
It does not seem much to read, but it took a good deal of his force out
of him, and he lay still, panting.
"Pray look sharp," came from the other side.
"Yes. Hold on," cried Vince, as a horrible sensation began creeping
through him, which he felt was preparatory to losing his nerve and
falling: "I'm going to turn over."
"No, no--don't," came faintly. "I can't hold on."
"You must!" shouted Vince fiercely. "Now!"
Clutching desperately at the frail cloth, he gave himself a violent
wrench and rolled himself right over upon his face, searching quickly
with his toes for some support, and feeling them glide over the surface
again and again, till a peculiar sensation of blindness began to attack
him. Then a thrill of satisfaction ran through his nerves, for one boot
toe glided into the fault between two blocks, and the tension upon his
muscles was at once relieved.
"I can't help it," came faintly to his ears. "You're dragging me over.
Help! help!"
_Croak_! came in a hoarse, barking note, and the great raven floated
across them not a dozen feet above their heads.
"All right!" cried Vince. "I can manage now." And he felt about with
his other foot, found a projection, and having now two resting-places
for his feet, one higher than the other, he cautiously drew himself up,
inch by inch, till his chin was level with his hands, when, taking a
deep, long breath, he forced his toe well against the rock, trusting to
a slight projection; and, calling to Mike to try and hold on, he made a
quick snatch with one hand at the lad's leg a foot higher, but failed to
get a good grasp, his hand gliding down the leg, and Mike uttered a wild
cry.
For a moment Vince felt that he must fall, but in his desperation his
teeth closed on the cloth beneath him, checking his downward progress;
and as his feet scraped over the rock in his efforts to find fresh hold,
he found his cliff-climbing had borne its fruits by hardening the
muscles of his arms. How he hardly knew, he managed to get hand over
hand upon Mike's leg, till he drew himself above the ridge, and in his
last effort he fell over, dragging his companion with him, so that they
rolled together down the inner slope twenty or thirty feet, till a block
checked their progress.
Just then, as they lay scratched and panting, there was a darkening of
the air, the soft whishing of wings, and the raven dropped on the big
pinnacle close at hand, to utter its hoarse, barking croak as it gazed
wickedly at them with first one and then the other eye.
"Ha! ha! ha!" laughed Mike, in a peculiarly hysterical tone; "wouldn't
you like it? But not this time, old fellow. Oh, don't I wish I had a
stone!"
The same memory had come to both, as they lay breathless and exhausted,
of seeing this bird or one of its relatives rise from below the cliff
edge one day as they approached; and, looking down, they saw upon a
ledge, where it had fallen, a dead lamb, upon which the great ill-omened
bird had been making a meal.
"Hurt?" said Vince at last, as he sat up and examined his clothes for
tears.
"Hurt! why, of course I am. I gave my head such a whack against one of
the stones.--Are you?"
"No," said Vince, making an effort to laugh at the danger from which he
had escaped. "I say, though, your trousers are made of better cloth
than mine."
"Trousers!" said Mike sourly: "you've nearly torn the flesh off my
bones. You did get hold of a bit of skin with your teeth, only I
flinched and got it away. I say, though--"
"Well? What?" said Vince; for the other stopped. "That's the way down
to the Scraw; but you needn't have been in such a hurry to go."
Vince shuddered in spite of his self-control. "I wonder," he said
softly, "whether it's deep water underneath or rocks?"
"I don't know that it matters," was the reply. "If it had been water
you couldn't have swum in such a whirlpool as it seems to be. So you
might just as well have been killed on the rocks. But oh! I say
Cinder, don't talk about it."
The boy's face grew convulsed, and he looked so horrified that Vince
cried eagerly--
"Here, I say, don't take it like that. It was not so bad as we thought.
It wouldn't have happened if you'd held tight instead of blundering on
to me."
"Let's talk about something else," said Mike, trying to master his
feelings.
"All right. About that cove. You see the water comes rushing in at one
side and goes out at the other, and I daresay when the tide turns it
goes the other way. I should like to get right down to it, so as to see
the water close to."
Mike shuddered. "You won't try again, will you?" he said.
"Try again? Yes. Why not? Why, we might come a million times and
never slip again."
"Yes," said Mike, but rather shrinkingly. "Shall we go back home now?"
"No; not till we've had another good look down at the place. Here--hi!
you be off, or next time we come we'll bring a gun."
_Croak_! said the raven, and it took flight--not, however, at the words,
but from the cap sent skimming up at it where it perched watching them.
"Come on," cried Vince; and his companion sprang up as if ashamed of his
weakness.
Then together they climbed back to the scene of their adventure, and had
a good look down at the shut-in cove, calmly reconnoitring the danger
through which one of them had passed; and, after gazing long at the
entrance and place of exit of the tides, they climbed along the ridge
for some distance to the right, and then back and away to the left, but
they could see nothing more--nothing but the rock-bound bay shut-in from
the sea, and whose shore, if there was any, remained hidden from their
sight by the projecting edge of cliff at the bottom of the slope below
them.
"There," said Vince at last,--"I know how I feel."
"So do I," said Mike: "that we've had all our trouble for nothing."
"No, I don't; I feel as if I shan't be satisfied till I've been right
down there and seen what it's like."
"But we can't get there. Nobody could go in a boat."
"Perhaps not. We must climb down."
Mike suppressed a shudder. "Can't be done," he said.
"How do we know till we've looked right down over the edge?"
"Must bring a rope, then?"
"Of course, and one hold it while the other creeps to the edge and looks
over."
Mike nodded, and they began to retrace their steps, talking thoughtfully
as they went.
"Shall you say anything about our--accident?" asked Mike at last.
"No: only frighten my mother."
"Nor yet about the Scraw, and what we're going to try and do?"
"No: what's the good? Let's find what there is to see first. I say,
Cinder, it will be as good as going to a foreign country seeking
adventures. Who knows what we may find?"
"Raven's nest, for one thing."
"Yes, I expect that chap has got his wife and young ones somewhere about
here. How about a rope? Have you got one at home?"
"Yes; but so have you."
"I'm not very fond of ours," said Vince thoughtfully. "It's a long time
since it was new, and we don't want to have any accidents. You bring a
coil of new rope from your boat-shed: we'll take care of it. And, I
tell you what, I'll bring that little crowbar of ours next time, and a
big hammer, so as to drive the bar into some crack. It will be better
than holding the rope."
The talk of their future plans lasted till it was nearly time to part,
and they were just arranging for their hour of meeting on the next day
when they came suddenly upon old Daygo, at the corner of the lane
leading down to his comfortable cottage.
"Art'noon," he said, with a nod, and fixing his eyes upon each of them
searchingly. "Having a walk?"
"Yes," said Vince carelessly. "When are you going to take us fishing
again?"
"Oh! one o' these fine days, my lads; but you're getting to be quite men
now, and must think more about your books. Been on the cliffs?"
"Yes," said Vince. "Come on, Mike: it's tea-time."
The boys walked on in silence for some moments, and then Vince spoke.
"I say, Mike, do you think he's watching us?"
"No," said Mike shortly. "You fancy he is, because you've got some
cock-and-bull notion that he don't want us to go to the Scraw."
"Perhaps so," said Vince thoughtfully; "but I can't help it. I do think
so."
"Well, suppose he does; he said what was right: it is a horribly
dangerous place, and all the people keep away from it because they've
got ideas like his."
"Maybe," said Vince, with his brow all in puckers. "But never mind;
we'll go and see."
CHAPTER SIX.
HAUNTED BY THE SCRAW.
The weather interfered with the prosecution of the boys' adventure for a
week, and during that time, what with wind and rain, they had nothing to
tempt them to the cliff but the sight of a large French three-masted
lugger or _chasse-maree_, which was driven by the gale and currents
dangerously near the Crag: so near, in fact, that old Daygo and nearly
every fisherman in the place hung about the cliffs in full expectation
of seeing the unfortunate vessel strike upon one or other of the rocks
and go to pieces, when all on board must have inevitably been drowned,
the height of the sea making it madness to attempt to launch a boat.
But, to the relief of all, the swift vessel was so cleverly managed that
she finally crept through an extremely dangerous passage, and then,
catching a cross current, was borne right out to where she could weather
the northern point of the island, and disappeared into the haze.
"There, young gentlemen," said old Daygo in a stentorian voice, "that's
seamanship! But she'd no business to come so near the Crag in weather
like this. Wouldn't ha' like to be aboard o' she just now, would you?"
"No," said Vince; "nor you neither?"
"Hey? Why, that's just what I've been a-wishing these two hours past,
my lad. I could ha' took her out o' danger long enough before; but them
Frenchies don't know our island like I do. Why, I feel sometimes as if
I could smell where the rocks are, and I could steer a boat by touch,
like, even if it was black as the inside of a tar-barrel in the middle
of the night."
It sounded like empty boasting, but the words were seriously received by
the rough men around.
"Ay, ay," said one fat, heavy-looking fellow; "Joe Daygo knows. I
wouldn't ha' been aboard her fer no money."
"Been thinking you'd eat no more byled lobster--eh, Jemmy Carnach?" said
Daygo, with a hoarse laugh; and the man gave him a surly look and
sauntered away.
"I say," said Mike, as soon as the lads were alone; "old Joe is really a
good sort of fellow after all. He seemed a deal more troubled about
that French boat than any one else."
"Yes; and I suppose he is a clever pilot, and knows all about the
currents and the rocks; but I don't quite understand about his being so
well off."
Mike began to whistle, and said nothing for a few moments.
"I don't see why he shouldn't be well off," he said; "he's getting old,
and he's very mean, and never spends money upon himself."
Vince nodded, and remained silent.
Then came a lovely morning after the week's bad weather, and Vincent was
just starting for Sir Francis Ladelle's rather unwillingly, to join Mike
for the day's studies, when there was a cheery whistle outside and his
fellow-pupil appeared.
"I say!" he cried, "father said it was a shame for us to lose such a
fine day, and he told Mr Deane to give us a holiday."
"Eh? What's that?" cried the Doctor. "Here, I'm off up to the house to
put a stop to that. I'm not going to pay half that tutor's expenses if
this sort of idleness is to be encouraged."
Mike looked aghast.
"It's all right," said Vince merrily; "father doesn't mean it."
"Oh, don't I!" cried the Doctor, frowning.
"No: does he, mother?"
Mrs Burnet smiled and shook her head.
"Here, you boys, don't get into any mischief."
"No, father," said Vince, and the next minute they were outside.
"Scraw?" said Vincent; and his companion nodded unwillingly, as the boy
thought, but he changed his opinion the next moment.
"I've got the hammer and bar ready, and a small rope; but we must have
yours."
"Yes, of course."
"Well, run back and get it, and meet me out by the Dolmen."
"Brought it," said Mike: "tucked it under a furze bush out on the
common."
Vince's face lit up with eagerness, and the pair were about to start
when they saw old Daygo in the distance, and they turned back, went into
the house, and waited till he had gone by.
Giving the fisherman time to get well out of sight, they sallied forth,
and went to where the coil of rope was hidden--a thin, strong line that
would have borne a couple of men hanging on its end--and as soon as this
was brought out, and a glance round taken to make sure they were not
watched, Mike cried--
"But what about the hammer and bar?"
Vince opened his jersey to show the head of the hammer on one side, the
crowbar on the other, snugly tucked in the waistband of his trousers.
"Well done! that's capital!" cried Mike. And the two lads went off in
the direction of the Scraw, but in a zigzag fashion, as if their
intentions were entirely different; and this at Vince's wish, for he had
a strong impression that old Daygo was keeping an eye upon their
movements, though Mike laughed at the idea.
"I don't feel nervous about it now, do you?" said Vince, as soon as they
were well under cover of the rugged ground.
"No; but I don't like to think about that ugly slip you had," said Mike
thoughtfully.
"I didn't have an ugly slip: you knocked me over."
"Oh, well, I couldn't help it, could I? and I did hold on till you got
out of it."
"Never mind that now," said Vince; "let's think about what we are going
to do. There'll be no danger so long as we are careful--and I mean to
be, very, and so I tell you. Wonder whether we shall see our black
friend? I say, didn't it seem as if it was on the look-out for us to
have a bad accident?"
"No: seemed as if it was on the look-out to keep us from finding its
nest."
They chatted away merrily enough till they had nearly reached the chaos
of tumbled-together rocks, when, in spite of the bright sunshine and
blue sky overhead, the wildness of the place once more impressed them
unpleasantly, and, instead of the cheery conversation and banter in
which they had indulged, they became quiet, only speaking at intervals,
and then in quite a low tone.
The bottom of the steep, rough slope was reached, and they paused to
consider their plans. They had come out some fifty yards from where
they made their former ascent to the ridge, for it was marked by the
jagged sugar-loaf upon which the raven had perched. But the sloping
wall of granite where they were presented just about the same aspect as
that portion where they had struggled up before, and there was no reason
for making a detour over very difficult ground, cumbered with huge
blocks that must have fallen from above, and tangled in the hollows
between with brambles; so they determined to climb from where they
stood, and began at once, each selecting his own route, with the
understanding that a pyramidal block eighty or ninety feet above their
heads should be the meeting-place.
"Come on, then," cried Mike. "First up!"
"No, no," said Vince. "This must be done steadily. We shall want to be
cool and fresh for anything we may have to do. One of us is sure to be
obliged to go down by the rope."
"Very well," said Mike; and they commenced the ascent, each feeling the
wisdom of the plan adopted, the climb being difficult enough, though
there was not the slightest danger.
They were glad enough to rest and wipe their brows as they stood by the
rough block, and upon which they found they could easily climb; but
there was nothing more to see than at their former visit, save that the
rocks looked far more rough, both at the torrent-like entrance and the
narrow opening on their right, while even from the height at which they
stood it was plain to see that the circular cove was in a violent state
of ebullition.
But here, close in, was the slope which ran down towards the sea--very
similar in character to that by which they had ascended, only that it
was, as it were, chopped off short. In fact, they seemed to be on the
summit of a stony ridge of granite mountains, one side of which had been
nearly all gnawed away by the sea.
"Don't seem much choice of where to go down," said Vince, after a long
scrutiny to right and left. "Shall we try here?"
"Just as well as anywhere else," said Mike. "Only what is it we are
going to do? If it means creeping down with a rope round one, and then
going over the edge to play chicken at the end of a roasting-jack, I
feel as if I'd rather not."
"It means going carefully down to the edge and looking over first,"
replied Vince. "It may only be a place where we can get down easily
enough."
"Or it may be a place where we can't," said Mike. "All right: I'll go,
if you like."
"No: I'll go first," said Vince. And he drew out his hammer and
crowbar; but a block of granite close by stood up so much like a thick,
blunt post that there seemed to be no need for the crowbar to be driven
in; so, making one end fast round the block with a well-tried mooring
knot--one which old Daygo had taught them might be depended upon for
securing a boat--they calculated how much rope would be necessary to
well reach the bottom of the broken-off slope, and at the end of this
the line was knotted round Vince's chest and he prepared to descend.
"Ease it away gently, so that I'm not checked," said the lad, as Mike
took hold close to him and knelt down ready to pay the rope out and so
as to be able to tighten his grasp at any moment if there was a slip.
"Right! I'll mind; and you'll be all right: you can't fall."
"I know," was the reply; and trusting to his companion, while
strengthened by the knowledge that at the very worst he must be brought
up short by the granite block, Vince gave a sharp look downward, and,
selecting a spot at the edge a little to his right for the point to make
for, he turned his face to the slope and began to descend, carefully
picking hand and foothold and helped by the steady strain upon the rope
which was kept up by Mike, who watched every movement breathlessly, his
eyes fixed upon his companion's head, and ready to respond to every
order which was uttered.
Vince went down as calmly and deliberately as if the level ground were
just below him till he was about two-thirds of the way, when he could
not help giving a start, for Mike suddenly exclaimed:
"Here's that old raven coming!"
"Where?"
"Off to my right--in a hurry. You must be somewhere near the nest."
Vince hesitated for a few moments, for the thought occurred to him that
the bird might make a swoop at him, as he had read of eagles acting
under similar circumstances; but the next moment he had thought of what
power there would be in the blow of a fist striking a bird in full
career, and knowing full well that it must be fatal to the raven, he
continued to descend, with the bird flying by some fifty feet overhead
and uttering its hoarse croak.
"Lower away a little more," said Vince, as he drew nearer the edge of
what might either be a precipice or an easy slope for aught he could
tell.
"I'll lower," was the reply; "but I want to feel you well."
"That's right. I must have rope enough to move quite freely."
"Yes, that's all very well; but I don't feel as if I could haul you up
if you slipped over the edge."
"Who's going to ask you to?" said Vince. "I should try and climb,
shouldn't I? If you keep me tight like that I can't get down."
"Are you all right?" said Mike anxiously, for he was by far the more
nervous of the two.
"Right?--yes; but I feel like a cow tethered to a picket, so that I
can't reach the bit of grass sward. Now then, lower away."
Mike obeyed, with the palms of his hands growing very moist, as his
companion drew closer to the brink.
"Lower away!" cried Vince.
"No: that's close enough," said Mike decidedly. "Look from where you
are, and come back. Now then, what can you see?"
"A bit of moss and a patch of sea-pink just under my nose. Don't be so
stupid! How am I to look over the edge if you hold me tight up like
this? Ah!"
"What is it?" cried Mike, holding on to the rope with all his might, and
keeping it resting on the rock, over which it had slowly glided.
"Only a loose stone gave way under my feet, and went down."
He remained silent, waiting to hear the fragment rebound and strike
somewhere, but he listened in vain. The fall of the stone, however, had
its effect, for a wild chorus of whistling and screaming arose, and an
eddy of wings came up as a perfect cloud of white and grey birds rose
into sight, and were spread to right and left.
"Hadn't you better come back now?" said Mike anxiously.
"If I do it will be to make you come down instead. Why, you're worse
than I am, Mike! Now then, lower away! I only want about a fathom
more, and then you may hold on tight."
"Very well, then," said the lad: "I'll give you just six feet, and not a
bit more. Then you shall come up."
"Say seven," cried Vince merrily.
"No: six. That's what you said; so make much of it."
"Lower away, then!" cried Vince; and he carefully descended, after a
glance over his left shoulder, creeping cautiously down, and edging to
his left till he was just over the block at the edge which he had marked
out for his goal.
"That's four feet, mind!" cried Mike: "only two more."
"Good little boy!" said Vince merrily. "Four and two do make six. I'll
tell Mr Deane to-morrow. He was grumbling the other day about the
muddle you made over your algebra."
"You look after your climbing, and never mind my algebra," said Mike
huskily.
"Now, Mikey!" cried Vince; "hold on--tight as you can."
"Yes. Don't you want the other two feet?"
"Of course I do; but I'm going to turn over."
"No, no, I say--don't!" cried Mike. "Do think where you are! Have a
good look, and then come up."
"Here, I say, you'd better come down instead of me. I can't see out of
the back of my head if you can. Now, no nonsense. This is what I want
to do: I'm going to turn over, with my back to the cliff, and then
shuffle down that other two feet, with my legs on each side of that
piece of stone."
"But it's at the very edge," said Mike. "Good boy again! How well you
can see, Ladle! It is just at the edge; and, once I'm there, I can see
down either way."
"But it isn't safe, Cinder. I can't help being anxious. Suppose the
stone's loose, and gives way?"
"Why, then it will fall down and frighten more birds. Now then, don't
fidget. If the stone goes, you'd still hold on by the rope, and I
should be left sitting there all the same. I shouldn't do it if I
didn't feel that I could. I'm not a bit nervous, so hold on."
"Very well," said Mike breathlessly: "I've got you."
"Ready?"
"Yes."
Vincent Burnet did not hesitate, but, with a quick movement, turned
himself right over, dragging heavily upon the rope, though, and making
his companion draw in his breath through his closed teeth with a hissing
sound.
"There I am," said Vince coolly. "I could slip down into the place if I
liked, but I won't try; so just ease the rope, inch by inch, as I
shuffle myself lower. That's the way. Easy as kiss my hand. A little
more, and a little more, and there we are. Why, Mike, old chap, it's
just like sitting in a saddle--only it's so hard."
"Are your legs right over the side?"
"Yes, and the wind's blowing up the legs of my trousers like anything.
Oh! you can't think what a sharp draught there is."
"Never mind the draught."
"No use to," said Vince.
"Oh, I say, do have a good look down, and then come up again. Now,
then: does the cliff slope from where you are?"
"Yes, right down to the water."
"Steeply?"
"Yes."
"Could we climb down?"
"Yes, if we were flies: Mike, old chap, it's just awful!"
"What!" cried Mike breathlessly.
"Yes: that's it--awful," said Vince quietly, as he rested his hands on
the block he bestrode, and looked over to his left. "It slopes down;
but the wrong way. It goes right in as far as I can see, and--Yes, it
does just the same on the other side. If I were to go down now I should
plump right into black water, that's boiling up and racing along like it
does where there's a rocky bottom, I do wish you were here to see."
"I don't," whispered Mike. "There--that'll do," he continued aloud.
"Come up."
"Wait a bit. I must see a little more, now I am here. I say, it's
awful!--it's grand! The rocks, as far as I can see, are as smooth as
can be, and all sorts of colours, just as if they were often breaking
away. Some are dark and some are browny and lavender, and there's one
great patch, all glittering grey granite, looking as new as new."
"Yes, it must be very beautiful; but come back."
"Don't you be in such a hurry," said Vince. "You won't catch me sitting
here again. I'll let you down if you like, but once is quite enough for
me. I want to have a good look, though, so as to tell you all about it
before I do come, for, on second thoughts, I shan't lower you down
here--it's too horrid. I say: wherever I can see there are thousands of
birds, but there are not many places where they can sit. I can see one
raven, too--there are two of them sailing about just under me, with
their backs shining in the sun. Oh, Mike: look at the cormorants! I
never knew there were so many about the island. Big gulls, and puffins,
and terns, and--I say, what a cloud of pigeons flying right out from
under me: Why, there must be a cavern going right in. Hold tight! I
want to lean out more to try and see."
"No!" shrieked out Mike. "Don't--don't! It's a hundred times worse
kneeling here and seeing you than doing it oneself."
"But I only want to see if there is a cave."
"If the pigeons keep flying out there must be."
"Well, there they go, and here are some more coming, and they've flown
right in somewhere, so I suppose there is. Want to hear any more about
the place?"
"No, no. Come up now."
"All right, old chap; then I will, after one more look round and down
below. The water is wild, though, and the rocks are grand; but old Joe
is as right as can be: it's a terrible place, and unless any one likes
to hang at the end of a three-hundred-feet rope he cannot get to the
bottom here nor anywhere else along this cliff. It's just three parts
of a round, and goes in all of a hollow below, where I am. There--
that's all; and now I'm coming up."
"Hah!" ejaculated Mike, in a tone full of thankfulness; and as Vince
shuffled himself a little way--not much, for there was not room--the
rope tightened about his chest, giving him so strong a support that he
leaned back, pressed his hands down on either side of him to steady
himself, and drew up one leg till he could plant his heel on the stone
where he had been seated. A steady draw up of the other leg, and it was
beside its fellow; then, getting well hold of the nearest projections on
either side, he shouted up to his companion to haul hard--shouted,
though in the immensity of the place his words, like those which had
preceded them, sounded weak and more like whispers.
"Right!" said Mike; and then he uttered a wild cry, for as Vince thrust
with feet and hands together, straightening himself out, the rope
tightened at the same moment, and then the lad hung motionless against
the slope.
The rain and frost had been hard at work upon the edge of that
precipice, as its sharply gnawed-off edge showed and the huge stone
which the venturous lad had stridden was only waiting for the sharp
thrust which it had received, for with a dull crack it was separated
from the side, with an enormous mass beneath it, and went rushing down,
leaving a jagged curve, as if the piece had been bitten out, just below
the lad's feet.
Vince did not stir even to feel for a place to plant his hands, but
remained motionless for some moments. Then there was a dull splash
echoed from the barrier rock which shut-in the cove, and the rushing
sound of wings, as the startled birds rose in clouds from their
resting-places all around.
At last the full sense of his perilous position came to the boy, and
with it his coolness; and he grasped the rock as well as he could, and
called up to his companion.
"Grip hard, Ladle!" he cried. "I'm going to try and turn face to you."
There was no reply; but a thrill seemed to come down the fibres of the
rope, and the strain upon the boy's chest to increase.
It was no easy task, for it was hard to find a resting-place on either
side of the gap for his feet; but, full of trust in Mike's hold of the
rope, and strengthened by the knowledge that it was secured to the
granite block as well, Vince gave himself a quick writhe, and turned
upon his face. Then, after a scrambling slip or two, his toes found a
ledge, as his hands already had, and he climbed steadily up.
That task was not difficult, for the foothold was easy to select, the
rope tightening still, and giving him steady help, while the distance,
long as it had taken him to descend, was only short.
In another minute he was over the ridge, looking down on Mike, who,
instead of hauling in the rope as he came up, had let himself glide down
like a counterpoise, and as soon as he saw his companion in safety, he
drew himself in a crouching position and stared up with his lips apart.
"It's all right," said Vince huskily. "Why, your face is white as
white, and your hair's all wet."
"Yes," gasped Mike hysterically, "and so's yours. Oh, Cinder, old chap,
I thought you had gone! Let's get away from this horrid place. Old
Joe's right: there is something terrible about it after all."
"Wait a bit," said Vince, rather feebly, as he too crouched down upon a
piece of rock. "I don't feel as if I could move much for a bit. I am
so stiff and weak, and this rope's cut into my chest. Yes: old Joe's
right; there's no getting down there. But it was awfully grand, Ladle,
and I should have liked you to see it."
"And do you want to lower me down?" said Mike fiercely.
"No!" cried Vince sharply. "I wouldn't have you feel what I felt when
that stone broke off and left me hanging there for all the riches in the
world!"
CHAPTER SEVEN.
THE PANGS OF COLD PUDDING.
"A burnt child fears the fire." So says the old proverb; and therefore
it was quite reasonable for a couple of big lads to feel a certain
sensation of shrinking when they talked about their adventure while
trying to investigate the mysteries surrounding the portion of Crag, or
Cormorant Island, as it was called, known as the Scraw.
For they did talk about it a great deal. Then, too, Vince had some
_very_ unpleasant dreams about hanging over a tremendous gulf. One
night in particular he was especially bad.
It happened in this way: Mike came over to the Doctor's cottage one
evening after tea--though this was no novelty, for he was always coming
over to the cottage after tea, when Vince was not going over to Sir
Francis Ladelle's quaint, semi-fortified house, which had stood there
for hundreds of years, being repaired by its various occupants, but very
little altered. In fact, when the little island was for sale, many
years before this story commences, and the baronet became the purchaser,
he was so pleased with the old place that he determined to keep up the
traditions of the past, in spite of low ceilings, dark windows, and what
Mike described to Vince as "the jolly old ghosts," which, being
interpreted, meant rats.
So Mike came over one evening, after Vince had eaten a tremendous meal,
and the two lads went out for a stroll to the cliff edge, where there
was always something to see, returning after dusk by the light of the
moon and glowworms, of which there were abundance. Then Vince had to
see Mike up to the gates of the old house; and, to make things straight,
Mike said he would walk back a few yards with him, the few yards being
so elastic that they stretched out to five hundred, more or less.
At last Vince reached home and had his supper, which had been put out
for him, and when he had finished, found that the sea air and exercise
had made him ravenous.
"I must have something else to eat," he said to himself, and he was
going into the parlour to speak upon this important subject to Mrs
Burnet; but as he reached the door he could hear her pleasant voice, and
he knew what was going on, though he could not see through the panels.
For the picture rose plainly before his mind's eye of his father lying
back in his easy chair, tired out with his round of the island and
gardening, while by the light of a pair of mould candles--
_What_? You don't know what mould candles are? The happier you!
People did fifty years ago, and they were largely used by those who
could not afford wax or spermaceti; and they did what Vince heard the
Doctor do from time to time--took up the old-fashioned, scissor-like
snuffers from their plated tray, snuffed the candles, and laid them back
with a sharp click. And let me tell you that there was an art in
snuffing a candle which required practice and a steady hand. For if you
of the present generation of boys who live in the days of gas, electric
lights, spirit lamps, and candles ingeniously made after the analytical
experiments of chemists on a material very different from the
old-fashioned Russian tallow--if you, I say, were to try and snuff an
old candle, the chances are that you would either cut the cotton wick
too much or too little, if you did not snuff the light out. After a
time these sources of light would grow lengthy of black, burnt wick, a
curious mushroomy, sooty portion would grow on the top, and the flame of
the candle would become dull yellow and smoky. Then, if you cut too
little off, the light would not be much improved; if you cut too low
down, it was worse; if lower still, you put the light out. But the
skilful hand every few minutes cut to the happy medium, as the Doctor
did, and the light burned up fairly white and clear; so that, according
to the custom at the cottage, Mrs Burnet could see well to continue
reading aloud to her weary husband, this being his one great enjoyment
in the calm life on the island.
Now, it seems rather hard on Vince to keep him waiting hungrily at the
door while the writer of this little history of boy life runs away from
his narrative to begin prattling in print about candles; but what has
preceded these lines on light, and the allusion to chemistry, does ask
for a little explanation, for many of you who read will say, What can
chemistry have to do with tallow candles?
A great deal. I daresay you have read a little chemistry, or heard
lectures thereon. Many of you may have been bitten by the desire to try
a little yourselves, as I was, and tried making hydrogen and oxygen
gases, burning phosphorus, watch-spring and sulphur in the latter; and
even tried to turn the salts of metals back into the metals themselves.
But that by the way. Let us return to the candle--such a one as Vince
had left burning, smoking and smelling unpleasantly, in the flat brass
candlestick upon the little hall table, for it was time he was off to
bed. Now, the chemists took the candle, and pulled it to pieces, just
as the candle-makers took the loose, fluffy cotton wick metaphorically
to pieces, and constructed another by plaiting the cotton strands
together and making a thin, light wick, which, as it burned, had a
tendency to curl over to the side of the conical flame where the point
of the wick touched the air and burned more freely--so freely, in fact,
from getting more oxygen from the air than the other part, as to burn
all away, and never need snuffing. That is the kind of wick you use in
your candles to-day; and the snuffers have gone into curiosity cases in
museums along with the clumsy tinder-boxes of the past.
But that is to do with the wick, though I daresay some chemist or
student of combustion gave the first hint to the maker about how to
contrive the burning away of the unpleasant snuff.
Let us go back to the candle itself, or rather to the tallow of which it
was made.
Now, your analytical chemist is about the most inquisitive person under
the sun. Bluebeard's wife was a baby to him. Why, your A C would have
pulled the Blue Chamber all to bits, and the key too, so as to see what
they were made of. He is always taking something to pieces. For
instance, quite lately gas tar was gas tar, and we knew that it was
black and sticky, good for palings and horribly bad for our clothes,
when, on hot, sunny days, we climbed over the said palings. But, all at
once, the A C took gas tar in hand to see what it was made of, and the
result is--what? I must not keep Vince and you waiting to tell all--in
fact, I don't know, but may suggest a little. Gas tar now means
brilliant aniline dyes, and sweet scents, and flavours that we cannot
tell from pears and almonds, and ammonia and carbolic preparations good
for the destruction of disease germs. But when the A C attacked the
tallow of the candle he astonished us more.
For, so to speak, he took the tallow, and he said to himself, Now,
here's tallow--an unpleasant animal fat: let's see what it is made of.
Years ago I should have at once told him that it was grease, obtained by
melting down the soft parts of an animal. But the A C would have said
to me: Exactly; but what is the grease made of?
Then he began making tests and analysing, with the result that out of
candle fat he distilled a beautifully clear white, intensely sweet
fluid, and made a name for it: glycerine, from the Greek for "sweet,"
for which, as Captain Cuttle would have said, consult your lexicon.
Then our friend the chemist tested the glycerine, and tried if it would
burn; but it would not burn in the least, and he naturally enough said,
Well, that stuff is no good for candles, so it may be extracted from the
tallow. To make a long dissertation short, that was done at once, and
the result was that, instead of the new tallow candles being soft, they
were found to be hard, and to burn more clearly. Then chemicals were
added, and they became harder still, and were called composites.
That was the beginning of the improvements, which subject I must carry
no further, but return to our hungry lad, who, hearing the reading going
on, would not interrupt his mother, but took up his candle and went to
the larder to investigate for himself.
There was bread and butter, and bread and cheese, and a small piece of
mutton--but this last was raw; and Vince was about to turn to the bread
and cheese when his eyes lighted upon a wedge of cold apple dumpling,
which he seized upon as the very thing, bore off to his bedroom, after
putting his head in at the parlour door to say good-night, ate with the
greatest of gusto, and then, thoroughly drowsy, tumbled into bed.
The next minute, as it seemed most vividly to Vince, the new rope that
Mike took with them to the tempest-torn ridge above the Scraw was
cutting into his chest and compressing it so that he could hardly
breathe. But he would not complain, for fear his companion should think
it was because he was too cowardly to go on down that steep slope of
thirty or forty feet to look over the edge of the precipice. So he went
on lower and lower, suffering horribly, but more and more determined to
go on; and as he went the rope stretched out, and the slope lengthened,
till he seemed to have descended for hours. Flocks of ravens came down,
flapping their wings about him and making dashes with their great beaks
at his eyes; while stones were loosened, rattled down into the gulf and
startled clouds upon clouds of birds, which came circling up, their
wings beating the air, till there was a noise like thunder.
Down to the stone at last; and upon this he sat astride, gazing at the
vast gulf below, where the cove spread out farther than eye could reach,
while the waters rushed by him like many cataracts of Niagara rolled
into one. At last Mike's voice came to him, in imploring tones,
sounding distant, strange and familiar, begging him to come up; and he
drew himself up once more, and, with the rope tightening, gave that
great thrust with his heels which sent the block upon which he had
ridden falling down and down, as if for ever, into space, while he hung
motionless, with the line compressing his chest so that he could not
breathe. He could not struggle, he could not even stir--only hang there
suffocating, till his senses were leaving him fast, and a burning light
flashed into his eyes. Then the rope parted, the terrible tension about
his chest was relieved, and he began falling more and more swiftly, with
a pleasant feeling of restfulness, till a voice said loudly:
"Vince, Vince! What is it, boy? Wake up!"
Vince not only woke up, but sat up, staring at his father and mother,
who were standing in their dressing-gowns on either side of his bed.
"He must have something coming on," said Mrs Burnet anxiously.
"Coming on!" said the Doctor, feeling the boy's temples and then his
wrist; next, transferring his hand to where he could feel the pulsation
of the heart, "Nightmare!" he cried.
"What's the matter?" said Vince confusedly. "Fire?"
"Any one would have thought so, and that you were being scorched, making
all that groaning and outcry. What's the matter with you?"
"Nothing," said Vince, whose dreaming was all hidden now by a mental
haze. "Is anybody ill, then?"
"I'm afraid you are, my dear," said Mrs Burnet anxiously; and she laid
her cool hand upon her son's forehead. "His head is very hot and wet,
dear," she added to the Doctor.
"Yes, I know," he said gruffly. "Here, Vince!"
"Yes, father."
"What did you have for your supper?"
"Oh! only a couple of slices of bread and butter, with a little jam on,"
said Mrs Burnet hastily. "I cut it for him myself."
"Nothing else?" said the Doctor.
"No, dear."
"Yes, I did, mother," said Vince, whose head was growing clearer now.
"I was so hungry I went into the larder and got that piece of cold
pudding."
"Wurrrh!" roared the Doctor, uttering a peculiar growling sound, and, to
the astonishment of mother and son, he caught up the pillow and gave
Vince a bang with it which knocked him back on the bolster. "Cold
pudding!" he cried. "Here! try a shoe-sole to-morrow night, and see if
you can digest that. Come to bed, my dear. Look here, Vince: tell Mr
Deane to give you some lessons in natural history, and then you'll learn
that you are not an ostrich, but a boy."
The next minute Vince was in the dark, but not before Mrs Burnet had
managed to bend down and kiss him, accompanying it with one of those
tender good-nights which he never forgot to the very last.
But Vince felt hot and angry with what had passed.
"I wish father hadn't hit me," he muttered. "He never did before. I
don't like it; and he seemed so cross. I wonder whether he did feel
angry."
Vince lay for some minutes puzzling his not quite clear brain as to
whether his father was angry or pretending. There was the dull murmur
of voices from the next room, as if a conversation were going on, but he
could not tell whether his mother was taking his part or no. Then, all
at once, there came an unmistakable "Ha, ha, ha!" in the Doctor's gruff
voice, and that settled it.
"He couldn't have been cross," thought Vince, "or he wouldn't laugh like
that. And it was only the pillow after all."
Two minutes later the boy was asleep, and breathing gently without
dreams, and so soundly that he did not hear the handle of the door creak
softly, nor a light step on the floor. Neither did he hear a voice say:
"Asleep, Vince?" nor feel a hand upon his forehead, nor two soft, warm
lips take their place as a gentle voice whispered: "God bless my darling
boy!"
CHAPTER EIGHT.
A RANDOM SHOT.
"How about the cold pudding?"
"Look here, Ladle, if you say any more about that it means a fight."
"Ha, ha! Poor old Cinder riding the nightmare, and dreaming about the
Scraw! Wish I'd been sleeping at the cottage that night. I'd have woke
you up: I'd have given you cold pig!"
"Lucky for you that you weren't," said Vince. "I'd have given you
something, my lad. But, I say, Ladle, drop it. I wouldn't have told
you about that if I'd known you were always going to fire it off at me."
"Well it does seem so comic for a fellow to go stuffing himself with
cold pudding, and then begin dreaming he was hanging at the end of our
rope."
"Look here," said Vince sharply, "if you'd felt what I did that day,
though I didn't say much, I'll be bound to say you'd have dreamed of it
after."
"I felt bad enough," said Mike, suddenly growing serious, as they walked
together over the heathery land, unwittingly taking the direction of the
scene of their adventure; "and I don't mind telling you, Cinder, that
I've woke up four nights since with a start, fancying I was trying to
hold the rope, and it kept slipping through my fingers. Ugh! it was
very horrid."
He laid his hand on Vince's shoulder, and his companion followed his
example, both walking along very silently for a few minutes before Vince
said quietly:
"I say, you won't grin if I tell you something?"
"No: honour bright."
"Well, let's see: it was last Thursday week we went, wasn't it?"
"Yes."
"I've been thinking about it ever since."
"So have I: not about the rope business, you know, but about that place.
It's just as if something was always making me want to go."
Vince let his hand drop, shook himself free, and faced his companion.
"But that's just how I feel," he said. "I keep on thinking about it and
wanting to go."
"Not to try and get down with a rope?" said Mike excitedly.
"Brrrr! No!" exclaimed Vince, with a shudder. "I don't say I wouldn't
go down with a rope from the cliffs if it was to help some poor chaps
who were wrecked and drowning, because that would seem to be right, I
suppose, and what one would expect any fellow to do for one if being
drowned. Why, you'd go down then, Ladle."
"I d'know. I shouldn't like to; but when one got excited with seeing a
wreck, perhaps I should try."
"There wouldn't be any perhaps about it, Ladle," said Vince gravely.
"Something comes over people then. It's the sort of thing that makes
men go out in lifeboats, or swim off through the waves with ropes, or,
as I've read, go into burning houses to get people out."
Mike nodded, and they went on very thoughtful and dreamy over the purple
heather and amongst the golden furze till they reached the edge of the
scrub oak wood, where they stopped short and looked in each other's eyes
again.
"What do you say? shall we go and have another look at the place?"
"I feel as if I should like to," replied Mike; "and at the same time I'm
a bit shrinky. You won't do anything risky, will you?"
"That I just won't," said Vince decisively.
"Then come on."
They plunged into the wood eagerly, and being more accustomed to the way
they got along more easily; and decided as they walked that they would
go to the southern end of the slope and then try and get up to have a
look over the ridge from there, while afterwards they would make their
way along the landward side of the jagged serrations of weather-worn
granite points right to the northern end if they could get so far, and
return at the bottom of the slope.
"That'll be more than any one in the Crag has ever done," said Vince,
"and some day we'll bring Mr Deane, and see what he'll say to it."
Little more was said, but, being of one mind, they steadily went on
fighting their way through the difficulties which beset them on all
sides, till, hot, weary and breathless, they neared the slope some
considerable distance from the spot where they had approached it first.
Then, after a short rest, they climbed up, over and among the fallen
rocks, with nothing more to startle them than the rush of a rabbit or
two, which went scuttling away.
Half-way up they saw a couple of those fast disappearing birds, the
red-legged choughs, and startled a few jackdaws, which went off shouting
at them, Mike said; and then the top was won, and they had a long survey
of the cove from another point of view.
But there was nothing fresh to see; all beneath them was entirely hid
from view, and though they looked again and again as they continued
their course along the ridge their patience and toil were not rewarded,
for, save that they were from different standpoints, the views they
obtained of the rocks and rushing waters were the same.
They continued along the ridge by slow climbing for a considerable
distance, and then as if moved by the same spirit they stopped and
looked at each other.
"I say," said Mike, "it don't seem any good to go any farther."
"No," was the reply, given in a very decisive tone. "The only way to
see that place down below is to get there in a boat."
"And old Joe Daygo says it's not right to go, and we should never get
back; so we shall never see it."
"I don't believe that," said Vince shortly.
"Well, I don't want to, but it seems as if he's right, and the more one
looks the more one believes in him."
"I don't," said Vince. "The more I look the more I seem to want to go
and have a thorough good search, and I can't help thinking he knows
why."
"Shall we try him again?"
Vince thoughtfully shook his head, as he gazed down once more from
between two pieces of granite that the storms of centuries had carved
till they seemed to have been set upon edge.
"Might offer him some money."
"I don't believe he'd like it, and you know Jemmy Carnach once said
that, though he always dressed so shabbily and never spent anything, he
always was well off."
"Well, then, what are we to do? I want to see the place worse than
ever. It looks so tempting, and as if there's no knowing what we might
find."
"I don't think we should find anything about it but that it would be a
good place for fishing. It must be if no one ever goes there. Why,
Ladle, all the holes among the rocks must swarm with lobsters, and the
congers must be as big as serpents."
Mike nodded.
"But how are we to get there to fish for them?"
"Don't know, unless we try it ourselves with a boat."
"Would you risk it?"
Vince did not answer for a few moments, but stood clinging to the rock,
gazing down and searchingly examining the opening through which the tide
poured.
"I'm not sure yet," he said; "but I begin to think I would. That narrow
passage would look wider when you were right in it, and the way to do it
would be to come in when the tide was high,--there wouldn't be so much
rushing and tumbling about of the water then; and the way to get out
again would be at high water too."
"But that would mean staying till the tide had gone down and come up
again--hours and hours."
"Yes," said Vince, "that would be the way; but it would want ever so
much thinking about first."
"Yes," replied Mike; "it would want ever so much thinking about first.
Ready to go back?"
"May as well," said Vince; and he stepped down, after a farewell look
down at the sheltered cove, fully realising the fact that any one
passing it a short distance from the shore would take the barrier of
rocks which shut it in for the continuation of the cliffs on either
side; and as the place had a terrible reputation for dangerous reefs and
currents, in addition to the superstitious inventions of the people of
the Crag, it seemed highly probable that it had never been approached
unless by the unfortunate crew of some doomed vessel which had been
battered to pieces and sunk unseen and unheard.
"Shall I go first?" said Vince.
"Yes: you lead."
"Mean to go along among the bushes at the bottom, or would you like to
slope down at once?"
"Oh, we'll go back the way we said, only we shan't have done as much as
we promised ourselves."
Vince started off down the slope, and upon reaching the trough-like
depression at the bottom he began to work his way in and out among the
fallen blocks, leaping the hollows wherever there was safe landing on
the other side. At times he had to stop to extricate himself from the
brambles, but on the whole he got along pretty well till their way was
barred by a deeper rift than they had yet encountered, out of which the
brambles and ferns grew luxuriantly.
The easier plan seemed to be to go round one end or the other; but it
only appeared to be the simpler plan, for on trying to put it to the
test it soon proved itself to be the harder, promising as it did a long,
toilsome climb, whichever end they took.
"Jump it," said Mike: "there's a good landing-place on the other side."
"Yes, but if I don't reach it I shall get a nice scratching. Look at
that blackthorn covered with brambles."
"Oh, never mind a few thorns," said Mike, grinning. "I'll pick them all
out for you with a packing needle."
"Thankye," said Vince, eyeing the rift he had to clear: "you'll have
enough to do to pick out your own thorns, for if I go down I'm sure you
will. Stand aside and let's have a good start."
There was no running, for it was a standing jump from one rugged block
to another a little lower; and after taking a good swing with both arms,
the lad launched himself forward, drawing his feet well up, clearing the
mass of tangled bushes below, and just reaching the other side with his
toes.
An inch or two more would have been sufficient; as it was, he had not
leaped quite far enough, for his boots grated and scratched down the
side facing him, the bushes below checked him slightly, and he tried to
save himself with his hands and clung to the rough block for a few
moments. Then, to Mike's great amusement, he slipped suddenly lower,
right in among the brambles which grew from out of a rift, and looked
matted enough together to support him as he hung now by his hands.
"Scramble up, Cinder!" cried Mike. "You are a jumper!"
"Wait till you try it, my lad," was the reply; and then, "Must drop and
climb out at the end."
As Vince spoke his hands glided from their hold, and he dropped out of
sight among the bushes, and at the same moment, to Mike's horror, there
was the rushing noise of falling stones, increasing to quite an
avalanche, and sounding hollow, echoing, and strange, as if descending
to a terrific depth.
Mike's heart seemed to stand still as he craned forward, gazing at the
slight opening in the brambles which his companion had made; and as he
listened intently he tried hard to speak, but his mouth felt dry, and
not a word would come.
It was horrible. They had both imagined that they were about to leap
over a hollow between some masses of stone, probably two, perhaps three
feet deep; but the bushes and brambles which had rooted in the sides had
effectually masked what was evidently a deep chasm, penetrating to some
unknown distance in the bowels of the earth.
What to do? Run for help, or try to get down?
Before Mike could decide, in his fear and excitement, which, he drew his
breath heavily, with a gasp of relief, for a voice sounding hollow and
strange came up through the bushes and ferns.
"Mike!"
"Yes. Hullo, are you hurt?"
"Bit scratched," came up.
"How far are you down? Tell me what to do. Shall I go for a rope?"
"Steady!" came up: "don't ask so much at once. Not down very far. I
can see the light, and it's all of a slope here, but awful lower down.
Did you hear the stones go with a rush?"
"Yes, yes; but Vince, old chap, tell me how I am to help you."
"I can't: I don't know. I think I can climb out, only I hardly like to
stir for fear of a slip. Here goes, though. I can't stay like this."
Mike stood gazing down at the bushes, trembling with anxiety as he heard
a rustling and scraping sound beneath, which made him long to speak and
ask questions about how his companion got on, but he feared to do so
lest he should take his attention from the work he had on hand. Then
came the rattle of a falling stone going slowly down, as if there were a
good, steady slope; and the boy listened for its plunge into water far
beneath, but the falling of the stone ceased to be heard, while the
rustling and scraping sound made by the climber increased. Then all at
once the bushes began to move and a hand appeared at the far end.
"Take care! pray take care!" cried Mike. "Don't--pray don't slip back!"
"Oh, it's all right now," said Vince, to the watcher's great relief.
"It's all of a slope here, as if it had once been a place where water
ran down. Wait a moment till I get out my knife."
There was a pause, during which Mike climbed round to the end where
Vince was trying to get out; and he was there by the time his companion
began hacking at the brambles with his big knife, first his arm
appearing and soon after his head, as he chopped away, getting himself
free, and seizing the hand extended to him from where Mike knelt and
reached down.
"Hah!" cried Vince, as he climbed on to one of the rugged blocks, "that
wasn't nice. It slopes down from here, so that where I fell through I
must have dropped a dozen feet; but I came down standing, and then fell
this way on my hands and stopped myself from sliding, when a lot of
stones that had been waiting for a touch went down."
"But are you hurt?" cried Mike anxiously.
"Not much: bit bruised, I suppose. But I say, isn't it rum? There must
have been water running to make a place like that. It must have come
all along the bottom, where we've been creeping, and run down here,
eating its way, like your father and mine were talking about one
evening."
"I'd forgotten," said Mike. "But if it ran down there, where did it go
to?"
"Down to the sea, of course, and--I say, Mike, don't you see?" cried
Vince excitedly.
"See? See what?" said the lad, staring.
"What I said."
"How could any one see what you said!" cried Mike, ready enough to laugh
now that his companion was out of danger.
"Oh, don't be stupid at a time like this!" grumbled Vince excitedly.
"Once water begins to eat away, it goes on eating a channel for itself,
like it does at the waterfall over the other side of the island. Well,
this must have cut itself a way along. It's quite a big, sloping
passage, and it must go down to the shore. Can't you see now?"
"I don't know. Do you mean that hole leads down to the shore?"
"Yes, or into some cavern like the great holes where the stream runs out
into the sea."
"Then it would be a way down into the Black Scraw?" cried Mike
excitedly.
"Of course it would. Why, Mikey, we've found out what we were looking
for!"
"You mean you tumbled upon it," said Mike, laughing.
"Tumbled into it," cried Vince, whose face was flushed with eagerness.
"Come on down, and let's have a look if I'm not right."
"What, down there?"
"Yes, of course."
"But isn't it dark?"
"Black enough lower down; but you can see the top part, because the
light shines through all these brambles and thorns."
"But hadn't we better wait till I've got a lanthorn and the rope?"
"Why, of course, before we try to explore it; but we might go and look a
little way. You're not afraid?"
"No, I don't think I'm afraid," said Mike.
"Then come on."
Without a moment's hesitation Vince began to lower himself down where he
had so lately emerged, and Mike followed; but in a few minutes they had
decided that they could do nothing without a light. All they could make
out was that there was a rugged slope, very steep and winding, going
right away in the direction of the sea. They picked up the loose stones
beneath their feet, and threw them into the darkness, and listened to
hear them go bounding down, striking the sides and floor; but there
seemed to be no precipitous fall, and at last, thoroughly satisfied with
their discovery, they climbed back into daylight, and sat down on the
stones to rest and think.
"I've got it!" said Mike suddenly. "It isn't what you think."
"What is it, then?"
"An old mine, where they bored for lead in the old, old days."
"No," said Vince stubbornly, "it's what I say--the channel of an old
stream; and you'll see."
"So will you, my lad, when we bring a lanthorn. I say you'll find the
walls sparkling with what-you-may-call-it--you know--that glittering
lead ore, same as we've got specimens of in the cabinet at home."
"No," said Vince; "you'll find that it'll be all smooth, worn granite at
the sides, where the water has been running for hundreds of years."
"Till it all ran away. Very well, then: let's go back at once and get a
lanthorn and the rope."
Vince laughed. "We've got to get home first, and by the time we've done
that we shan't want to make another journey to-day; but I say to-morrow
afternoon, directly after dinner. Are you willing?"
"Of course."
"And you'll bring the rope?"
"To be sure; and you the crowbar and hammer?"
Vince promised, and sat there very thoughtful, as he gazed down at the
hacked-away brambles.
"Let's put these away or throw them down," he said.
"Why?"
"Because if Old Daygo came along here, he'd see that some one had found
a way down into the Scraw."
"Daygo! What nonsense! I don't believe he ever was along here in his
life."
"Perhaps not; but he may come now, if he sees us spying about. I'm sure
he watches us."
"And I'm sure you've got a lot of nonsense in your nut about the old
chap. Now then, shall we go?"
"Yes; I'm willing. Think we can find it again?"
"Easily," said Mike. "Look up yonder: we can take those two pieces of
rock up on the ridge for our bearings. They stand as two ends of the
base A B, as Mr Deane would say, and if you draw lines from them they
will meet here at this point, C. This hole's C, and we can't mistake
it."
"No. But look here: this is better still. Look at that bit of a crag
split like a bishop's mitre."
"Yes: I see."
"We've got to get this laid-down rock in a line with it, and there are
our bearings; we can't be wrong then."
"No," cried Mike. "Who wouldn't know how to take his bearings when he's
out, and wants to mark a spot! Now then, is it lay our heads for home?"
It was a long while before either of them slept that night for thinking
of their discovery, and when they did drop off, the dark, tunnel-like
place was reproduced in their dreams.
CHAPTER NINE.
STUDY VERSUS DISCOVERY.
"Dear, dear, dear, dear!" in a tone full of reproach, and then a series
of those peculiar sounds made by the tongue, and generally written
"tut-tut-tut-tut!" for want of a better way--for it is like trying to
express on paper the sound of a Bosjesman's _click cluck_ or the crowing
of a cock.
The speaker was Mr Humphrey Deane--a tall, pale, gentlemanly-looking
young university man, who, for reasons connected with his health, had
arranged with Sir Francis Ladelle and the Doctor to come and stay at the
Mount, where he was to have a comfortable home and the Doctor's
attendance, a moderate stipend, and, in exchange, to help on the two
lads in their studies every morning, the rest of the day being his own.
The plan had worked admirably; for Mr Deane was an earnest, able man,
with a great love of learning, and always ready to display a warm
friendship for boy or man who possessed similar tastes. The lads liked
him: he was always firm, but kindly; and he possessed that wonderful
power of imparting the knowledge he possessed, never seeming at a loss
for means to explain some puzzling expression in classic lore, or
mathematical problem, so as to impress it strongly upon his pupil's
mind.
The morning he uttered the words at the beginning of this chapter he was
seated with the two boys in the long, low library at the Mount, whose
heavy windows looked out upon a great, thick, closely-cropped yew hedge,
which made the room dark and gloomy, for it completely shut off all view
of the western sea, though at the same time it sheltered the house from
the tremendous gales which swept over the island from time to time.
It was the morning after the discovery in so unpleasant a manner of the
hole at the foot of the slope, and their projected visit of
investigation in the afternoon so filled the lads' heads that there did
not seem to be any room for study; and, in consequence, after patiently
bearing the absence of mind and inattention of his pupils for a long
time, the tutor began to be fidgety and, in spite of his placid nature,
annoyed.
The Latin reading and rendering went on horribly, and the mathematics
worse. Vince tried hard; but as soon as he began to write down _a_ +
_b_--_c_ = the square root of _x_, his mind wandered away to the rocks
over the Black Scraw. For that root of _x_ was so suggestive: _x_
represented the unknown quantity, and the Black Scraw was the unknown
quantity of which he wanted to get to the root; and, over and over
again, when the tutor turned to him, it was to find the boy, pen in
hand, but with the ink in it dried up, while he sat gazing straight
before him at imaginary grottoes and caverns, lit up by lanthorns which
cast the black shadows of two explorers behind them on the
water-smoothed granite floor.
But this did not apply only to Vince, for Mike was acting in a similar
way; and at the end of an hour Mr Deane could bear it no longer, for it
had happened at a time when he was not so well as usual, and it required
a strong effort of will to be patient with the inattentive lads when
suffering pain.
And so it was that at last he uttered the "dear dears" and "tut tuts,"
and roused the two boys from their dreams about what they would see in
the afternoon.
"Are you unwell, Vincent Burnet?" he said.
"Unwell, sir?--oh no!" said the lad, colouring a little.
"You seem so strange in your manner this morning; and Michael Ladelle
here is the same. I hope you are not both sickening for something."
"Oh, I'm quite well, sir," said Mike hurriedly. "Perhaps it's the
weather."
"Perhaps it is," said Mr Deane drily. "Now, pray get on with those
problems."
"Yes, of course," cried Vince; and he began to work away most
industriously, till, as the tutor was resting his head upon his hand and
looking down at the paper upon which he was himself working out the
problem he had set the boys, so as to be able to show them, step by
step, how it was best done, Mike scribbled something on a scrap, shut it
in a book, and passed it to Vince, after glancing across the table and
then giving him a nudge.
Vince glanced across too; but Mr Deane was apparently intent upon the
problem, his delicate right-hand guiding the new quill pen, and forming
a long series of beautifully formed characters which were always looked
upon by the boys with envy and surprise.
Vince opened the book at the scrap of paper and read:
"I say: let's tell old Deane, and make him go with us."
Vince turned the paper over and wrote:
"What for? He'd spoil it all. Want to knock all the fun out of our
discovery?"
The scrap was shut up in the book and pushed back to the sender; the
work continued, and then came another nudge and the book once more, with
a fresh scrap of paper stuck in.
"I say, I can't get on a bit for thinking about the Black Scraw."
Vince wrote on the back:
"More can I. Get on with your work, and don't bother."
This was forwarded by library table post, and then there was nothing
heard but the scratching of the tutor's pen. But Mike's restlessness
increased: he fidgeted and shuffled about in his chair, shook the table,
and tried all kinds of positions to help him in solving his algebraic
problem, but without avail. Scrub oaks, ravens and red-legged choughs
danced before his eyes; great dark holes opened in the rocks, and the
desire to finish work, get out in the bright sunshine, and run and
shout, seemed more than he could bear.
At last, to relieve his feelings a little, he took a fresh piece of
paper, laid it over his pluses and minuses and squares and cubes, and
then wrote enigmatically:
"Lanthorn and rope."
This he blotted, glanced at the hard-working student across the table,
and then thrust it sidewise to Vince, who took it, read it, and, turning
it over, wrote:
"You be hanged!"
He was in the act of blotting it when the pen dropped from Mr Deane's
fingers; he sat up, and extended his hand as he looked sternly across
the table.
"Give me that piece of paper, Vincent," he said.
Vince hesitated; but the tutor's eyes gazed firmly into his, and wrong
yielded to right.
He passed the paper across to Mr Deane, and then nearly jumped out of
his chair, for Mike gave him a violent kick under the table.
"To be paid with interest," thought Vince.
"Oh! you jolly sneak, to give it up!" thought Mike, as the tutor read
the paper on both sides.
"I am very sorry," he said, after coughing to clear his voice--"very
sorry to have to exercise my authority towards you two, who have been
acting this morning like a pair of inattentive, idle schoolboys; but
when I undertook to act as your tutor, it was with the full
understanding that I was to have complete authority over you, and that
you were both to treat me with proper respect."
The boys sat silent and feeling horribly guilty. If Humphrey Deane had
been an overbearing, blustering personage, they might have felt ready to
resent his words; but the injured tone, the grave, gentle manner of the
invalid went right home to both, and they listened, with their eyes upon
their scanty display of work, as the tutor went on.
"You both know," he said, "that my health will not permit of much
strain, but so long as you both work with me and try your best, it is a
pleasure to me, and no one could feel more gratification than I do when
you get on."
"Mr Deane," began Vince.
"One moment, and I have done," continued the tutor. "You well know that
I try to make your studies pleasant."
"Yes, sir," said Mike.
"And that when the morning's work is over I am only too glad to join you
in any amusement or excursion. I ask you, then, is it fair, when you
see I am unwell, to make my endeavours to help you a painful toil, from
your carelessness and inattention?"
"No, Mr Deane," said Vince quickly; "it's too bad, and I'm very sorry.
There!"
"Thank you, Burnet," said the tutor, smiling. "It's what I expected
from your frank, manly nature."
"Oh, and I'm sorry too," said Mike quickly; but he frowned slightly, for
the speaker had not called him frank and manly.
"I have no more to say," said the tutor, smiling at both in turn; "and I
suppose I ought to apologise for insisting upon seeing that paper. I am
glad to find that it was not of so trifling a nature as I thought for on
Michael Ladelle's part, though I am sorry that you, Burnet, treated the
note he passed you in so ribald a way. `You be hanged!' is hardly a
gentlemanly way of replying to a historical memorandum or query such as
this: `Lanthorn and rope.' Of course, I see the turn your thoughts had
taken, Michael."
The boys stared at him wonderingly. While they had been suspecting old
Joe Daygo of watching them, had Mr Deane been quietly observing them
unnoticed, and had he divined that they were going to take lanthorn and
rope that afternoon?
"Of course, history is a grand study," continued the tutor, "and I am
glad to see that you have a leaning in that direction; but I like to be
thorough. When we are having lessons on history let us give our minds
to it, but when we are treating of algebra let us try to master that.
There--we will say no more. I am glad, though, that you recall our
reading; but try, Michael, to remember some of the other important parts
of French history, and don't let your mind dwell too much upon the
horrors of the Revolution. It is very terrible, all that about the
excesses of the mob and their mad hatred of the nobility and gentry--_A
bas les aristocrates_! and their cry, _A la lanterne_! Yes: very
terrible those ruthless executions with the lanthorn and the rope. But
now, please, I have finished that compound equation. Pray go on with
yours."
The two lads bent down now earnestly to their work, and with a little
help mastered the puzzle which had seemed hopeless a short time before.
Then the rest of the morning glided away rapidly, and Vince hurried off
home to his midday dinner, after a word or two about meeting, which was
to be at the side of the dwarf-oak wood, to which each was to make his
way so as not to excite attention, and in case, as Vince still believed,
Daygo really was keeping an eye upon their movements.
"I thought as much," said Vince aloud, as he reached the appointed
place, with a good-sized creel in his hand, the hammer and crowbar being
in a belt under his jersey, like a pair of hidden weapons. "I'd go by
myself if I had the rope."
"And lanthorn," said Mike, raising his head from where he had been lying
hidden in a clump of heather.
"Hullo, then!" cried Vince joyously. "I didn't see you there. But, I
say: lanthorn and rope! I felt as if I must burst out laughing."
"Yes: wasn't it comic?"
"I felt that I must tell him--poor old chap!--and as if I was trying to
cheat him."
"Oh no, it wasn't that! We couldn't help him taking the wrong idea.
I'd have told him at once, only it seems to spoil the fun of the thing
if everybody knows. But come on."
"Wait a minute," said Vince, sitting on a stone. "I want to look all
round first without seeming to. Perhaps old Joe's watching us."
"If he is," said Mike sagely, "you won't see him, for he'll be squatted
down by some block of stone, or in a furze bush. He's a regular old
fox. Let's go on at once. But where's the lanthorn?"
"Never you mind about the lanthorn: where's the rope?"
"Lying on it. Now, where's the light?"
"In the creel here," was the reply. Then without further parley they
plunged into the wood, and, profiting by former experiences, made their
way more easily through it into the rocky chaos beyond; threaded their
way in and out among the blocks, till at last with very little
difficulty they found their bearings, and, after one or two misses in a
place where the similarity of the stones and tufts of furze and brambles
were most confusing, they reached the end of the opening, noted how the
old watercourse was completely covered in with bramble and fern, and
then stepped down at once, after a glance upward along the slope and
ridge, to stand the next minute sheltered from the wind and in the
semi-darkness.
CHAPTER TEN.
A VENTURESOME JOURNEY.
"Mind how you go," said Mike in a subdued voice, for the darkness and
reverberation following the kicking of a loose pebble impressed him.
"All right: it's only a stone. It was just down there that I slipped
to. Ahoy!"
He shouted softly, with one hand to his mouth, and his cry seemed to run
whispering away from them to echo far beneath their feet.
"I say, don't do that," said Mike excitedly.
"Why not? Nobody could hear."
"No; but it sounds so creepy and queer. Let's have a light."
It did sound "creepy and queer," for the sounds came from out of the
unknown, which is the most startling thing in nature, from the fact that
our busy brains are always ready to dress it up in the most weird way,
especially if the unknown lies in the dark.
But no more was said, for Vince was busy opening his basket, out of
which he drew an old-fashioned horn lanthorn and gave it to Mike to
hold, while he took something else out of the creel, which rattled as it
was moved.
"Why, you've only brought half a candle," said Mike, who had opened the
lanthorn, and held it so that the rays which streamed down through the
brambles overhead fell in its interior. "What shall we do when that
burns out?"
"Light one of the pieces I've got in my pockets," said Vince coolly, as
he sat down on the water-worn granite, and placed a round, flattish tin
box between his knees. "Didn't bring a cushion with you, did you?"
"Cushion? No; what for?"
"One to sit on: this is precious hard."
And then _scratch, scratch_: a rub of a tiny wax match upon the sanded
side of a box, and a flash of red, dim light followed by a clear white
flame?
Nothing of the kind: matches of that sort had not been invented fifty or
sixty years ago. Whoever wanted a light had to go to work as Vince
prepared to do, after placing a thin slip of wood sharpened at each end
and dipped in brimstone ready to hand. Taking a piece of steel or iron
bent round so as to form a rough handle to be grasped, while the
knuckles were guarded by the edge of the steel, this was held over the
tin box, which was, on the inner lid or press being removed, half full
of burned cotton ash now forming the tinder that was to catch the
sparks.
Vince was pretty handy at the task from old experience, and gripping the
box tightly between his knees he made the hollow, cavernous place echo
again as he struck the steel in his left hand with a piece of
sharp-edged flint held in his right.
_Nick, nick, nick, nick_--the nearly forgotten sound that used to rise
in early morning from the kitchen before a fire could be lit--and _nick,
nick, nick, nick_ again, here in the narrow opening, where the rays of
sunshine shot down and made the sparks which flew from flint and steel
look pale as they shot downward at every stroke the lad gave.
Mike felt nervous at the idea of penetrating the depths below them, and
to hide this nervousness he chattered, and said the first thing that
came to his lips in a bantering tone:
"Here! you are a fellow to get a light. Let me have a try."
But as he spoke one spark fell upon the tinder and seemed to stay, while
as soon as Vince saw this he bent down and blew, with the result that it
began to glow and increase in size so much that when the brimstoned
point of the match was applied to the glowing spot still fanned by the
breath the curious yellow mineral began to melt, sputter, and then burst
into a soft blue flame, which was gradually communicated to the wood.
This burned freely, the candle in the lanthorn was lit, the door shut,
and the tinder-box with flint and steel closed and smothered out and
returned to the creel.
"You'd have done it in half the time, of course," said Vince, rising and
slinging the creel on his back. "Now then, are you going to carry the
lanthorn?"
"I may as well, as I've got it," said Mike.
"All right: then you'll have to go first."
Mike felt disposed to alter the arrangement, but he could not for very
shame.
"You take the rope, then. But, I say, you needn't carry that creel as
well," he said.
"I don't want to; but suppose the candle goes out?"
"Oh, you'd better take it," said Mike eagerly. "Ready?"
"Yes, if you are."
Mike did not feel at all ready, but he held the lanthorn up high and
took a step or two forward and downward, which left the sunlit part of
the place behind, and then began cautiously to descend a long rugged
slope, which was cumbered with stones of all sizes, these having
evidently fallen from the roof and sides, the true floor of the
tunnel-like grotto being worn smooth by the rushing water which must at
one time have swept along, reaching in places nearly to the roof just
above the boys' heads.
The way was very steep, and winding or rather shooting off here and
there, after forming a deep, wonderfully rounded hollow, in which in
several cases huge rounded stones lay as they had been left by the
torrent, after grinding round and round as if in a mill, smoothing the
walls of the hollow, and at the same time making themselves spherical
through being kept in constant motion by the water. These pot-holes, as
a geologist would call them, are common enough in torrents, where a
heavy stone is borne into a whirlpool-like eddy, and goes on grinding
itself a deeper and deeper bed, the configuration of the rock-walls
where it lies having prevented its being swept down at the first, while
every year after it deepens its bed until escape becomes impossible.
Again and again, as they went on, places of this kind were met with;
while twice over they had to pause at spots where the water must have
sprung from a shelf ten or a dozen feet down into a basin which it had
hollowed for itself in the course of time.
Upon the first of these sudden drops presenting itself Mike stopped with
the lanthorn.
"Here's the end of it," he said. "Goes down into a sort of bottomless
pit, black as ink. Let's go back."
Vince stepped close to his side and gazed down into the black depths
with a feeling of awe, the place looking the more terrible from the fact
that the tunnel had narrowed until there was only just room for them to
stand between the smooth granite walls.
"Looks rather horrid," said Vince. "Worse than a big well. Let's see
how deep it is."
He stepped back and picked up a stone that had fallen from the roof,
returning to where Mike held up the lanthorn for him to see.
Down went the block of stone, and they prepared themselves to hear it go
bounding and echoing far away in the bowels of the earth; but it stopped
instantly with a loud clang, and Vince cried,--
"Why, it isn't deep at all! I can see it."
A ring or two of the rope was cast loose, passed through the handle of
the lanthorn, and upon lowering it down block after block presented
itself sufficient to enable them to descend into what proved to be quite
a hollow, from which the stream must have leapt into another and again
into another, each being a fall of only a few feet. After which there
was another great pot-hole, like a vast mortar with a handleless pestle
of rock remaining therein.
Beyond this the water had carved out a rugged trough, steep enough to
form a slide if they had felt disposed to trust themselves to it, and
Vince laughingly suggested that they should glide down.
"Only it wouldn't do," he added. "We can't tell what's at the bottom.
Might mean a bad fall. Had enough of it?"
"Yes, ever since we started," replied Mike.
"Then you want to go back?"
"Oh no, I don't," retorted Mike. "One can't help feeling that one must
keep on and see where it goes to, even if it does make you turn creepy.
Doesn't it you?"
"Well, yes, I suppose so," replied Vince thoughtfully; "and I wouldn't
go on, only it's so easy to climb back, and the air feels fresh and
sweet, so that except that it's dark there's nothing to mind."
"But suppose the candle went out. How much is there left?"
As Mike spoke, he opened the door of the lanthorn and looked at the
light anxiously, but they had not burned an inch.
"We could easily get another light," said Vince; "and we must go on now.
Here, shall I go down first?"
"No; I'll keep to it," cried Mike. "I'm not going to have you jeering
at me afterwards and telling me I was afraid. But look here, Cinder:
you can't walk down--it really is too steep."
"Let's try the rope: I'll fasten it, and then you can hold on."
"Nothing to fasten it to."
"Soon get over that," said Vince; and, taking out the iron bar and the
hammer, he found a crack in the rock directly, into which he drove the
narrow edge till it was perfectly firm, the roof just overhead echoing
the blows of the hammer so rapidly that in a short time it sounded as if
a dozen smiths were at work.
"Stop a moment," cried Mike, as he held the light, and Vince began to
tie the end of the rope to the strong iron peg he had formed.
"What for?"
"Suppose when we get down we want the rope for another place, what
should we do if we leave it here?"
Vince took the lanthorn and held it out before him, so that he could
examine the trough-like slope.
"I shouldn't like to trust myself to slide down here," he said; "but
there's nothing to prevent our climbing up. Let's double the rope and
hook the middle over the bar; then, when we're down, we can pull one end
and get it free."
This was done, and, tying the lanthorn to his neck by means of his
kerchief, Mike secured the doubled rope and let himself down, his
companion soon after seeing him standing some thirty feet lower.
A minute later Vince was by his side, and they looked about them, but
there was nothing fresh to see. The roof was only a foot above their
heads. The width of the place averaged six or seven feet, and there was
this to encourage them--no branches occurred to form puzzling
labyrinths. If they had been overtaken by darkness there was nothing to
prevent their feeling their way back into the sunshine. So, growing
accustomed to the place, familiarity, if it did not breed contempt, made
them cooler and more ready to go on descending over similar obstacles to
those they had previously encountered, till all at once Mike stopped
short, and held up the lanthorn beneath which he peered.
"What is it?" said Vince anxiously.
"Hark! What's that?" said Mike, in a whisper full of awe.
A dull rushing sound smote upon their ears, but in a muffled, strange
way, that puzzled them to make out what it might be.
"I know," said Vince at last: "it's water."
"Think so?" said Mike dubiously.
"Yes. I've been puzzling ever so long to make out how it was that water
could have run along here, and for there to be none now, but I see now
it is. This was once the channel of the stream, till it ate its way
down through the rock to a lower one, and that's it we can hear running
somewhere below."
"Perhaps," said Mike; but his words implied doubt, and, after once more
examining the candle in the lanthorn, he led on, but very cautiously and
slowly now, though the passage was easier, and the slope less broken by
step-like faults in the granite, over which the water must once have
flowed.
At the end of a dozen yards Mike stopped again, and Vince quite as
willingly, for the dull rushing sound continued, and they looked at each
other by the light of the lanthorn.
"How far down are we, do you think?" said Mike.
"I dunno. Must be a long way below the sea."
Mike nodded, and Vince continued:
"I thought it led down into the Scraw cove, but we must be lower than
that."
"Yes, ever so much; and it strikes me that we might go on down and down
for hours. Haven't we done enough for this time?"
"Well, yes," said Vince, in a hesitating tone; "only I should have liked
to find out something better than going on and on, just like in one of
the caverns on the shore stretched out a tremendous way."
"Yes, I should have liked to see something more; but this is a curious
place. Old Deane would like to come down here and see those round
stones in the holes."
"We'll bring him some day," said Vince. "Well, suppose we'd better go
back, for it seems to be all like this."
"Can't be all like this, because there's water rushing somewhere down
below."
"Well, let's go on till we come to the water, and then turn back."
"But if it's very dangerous?"
"We won't go into danger. You keep the lanthorn well up, so that you
can see where you go, and then you can stop."
"Suppose you lead now," said Mike: "my arm aches awfully with holding up
the light."
"All right: I'll go first, then."
"But I'm not afraid to!" cried Mike hastily.
"Well, I am, Ladle," said Vince frankly; "and I shall go very slowly and
carefully, I can tell you. Here, you carry the rope and hammer. Stop a
minute, though: how's the light?"
He opened the lanthorn door now, and was surprised to see how little the
candle was burned down, but there was a tremendously long snuff with a
fungous top.
"I thought it was very dull," he said; and, moistening his fingers, he
snuffed the candle.--"Now we shall have a better light."
But unfortunately he had moistened his fingers too much, and the result
was that the shortened wick hissed, sputtered, burned blue, and then
without further warning went out.
"Oh!" cried Mike, in tones of horror, as they stood there in profound
darkness.
"Oh!" was echoed along the passage, and prolonged as if in a groan.
CHAPTER ELEVEN.
THE SEA PALACE.
For a few moments neither of the boys spoke, but stood listening to the
dull roaring sound. Then Vince started, for he felt himself touched;
and he nearly uttered a cry of horror, but checked it by setting his
teeth hard as he grasped the fact that the touch came from Mike's hand,
which he seized and found to be cold and damp.
"Let's get back--quick, somehow," gasped the lad.
"Yes: come on. We can feel our way," replied Vince. "Keep hold of
hands. No, that would make it harder. Here, give me a piece of the
rope, and I'll put it round my waist, then you can hold on by that and
follow me. I think I can recollect exactly how it goes."
"Be quick!" said Mike, in an awe-stricken whisper, as he passed several
yards of the rope to his companion in misfortune; and this Vince
fastened round his waist, and then uttered an ejaculation.
"What is it?" cried Mike: "don't say something else is wrong."
"Wrong? No," cried Vince, whose hands had come in contact with the
creel: "I forgot the tinder-box."
"Ah!" cried Mike joyfully; and he pressed close to Vince, as the latter
sat down, took out the box, and began nicking away with the flint and
steel, making the scintillating sparks flash and send their feeble light
in all directions.
"Oh, do make haste!" panted Mike; "that dreadful roaring's coming
nearer."
"I can hear it," muttered Vince, as he kept on nicking; but not a spark
took hold of the tinder.
"Here, let me try," cried Mike.
"No, not yet: I'll do it. The tinder must have got damp."
"Turn it over, then," cried Mike piteously. "Oh, do make haste."
Vince thrust his fingers into the tinder-box to follow out his
companion's instructions, and uttered an impatient sound.
"What is it now?"
"Such an idiot!" cried Vince. "I never took the tin off the top of the
tinder."
And so it was that after the disk, which damped out the sparks after a
light had been obtained, was removed, the first blow of the flint on the
steel sent down a shower, a couple of which caught at once, and were
blown into an incandescent state, the match was applied, began to melt,
and after a little trouble the sputtering candle once more burned
brightly behind the semi-transparent horn, while the roaring sound did
not now seem to be so loud.
"I say," said Vince, with a forced laugh, "isn't it easy to feel scared
when you're in the dark?"
"Scared? It was awful!"
"But we're not going to give up till we've seen where the water runs?"
Mike remained silent.
"We must do what we meant to do?"
"Very well," said Mike, drawing a deep breath, which was followed by a
gasp.
"Come on, then, and let's get it over."
Setting his teeth firmly, Vince once more attacked the unknown, and came
upon another sharp turn, where the water must have eddied round, and was
reflected almost back upon itself, and then turned away, after another
rounded hollow, almost at right angles.
Here the slope became a little more inclined, still not enough to make
progress difficult; but as soon as the two windings had been passed,
they knew that the goal they had marked out for themselves was at hand,
for the noise suddenly became louder, and was unmistakably caused by
water rushing over stones.
"Take care!" cried Mike warningly. "You're close to it."
"Yes," cried Vince excitedly; "we are close to it;" and he stopped and
held up the lanthorn, so that his hand struck against the roof. "Look
there!"
Mike pressed close, and looked at the object which had taken his
companion's attention; but for a few moments he realised nothing save
that the passage had grown more contracted, and that the roof seemed to
be formed by two huge pieces of glistening granite leaning together.
Then he looked down and saw that the floor, which was smoother than
ever, ran down suddenly, while a faint, damp, salt odour of sea-weed
struck upon his nostrils as a puff of air was suddenly wafted up.
"Mind, mind!" he shouted. "Ah!"
For the lanthorn was once more darkened, but not by the candle being
extinct. On the contrary, it was burning brightly still, but hidden by
Vince drawing his jersey suddenly over the sides.
"It's all right," cried Vince, for there before him was the shape of the
end of the passage marked out by a pale, dawn-like light. "Can't you
see? We've been fancying we've come down such a tremendous depth, and
all the time we were right: the hole has led us to the shore."
But Vince was not quite right, for, upon his drawing the lanthorn out--
and none too soon, an odour of singed worsted becoming perceptible--they
found that the sudden sharp slope of the granite flooring went down some
twenty feet, and upon lowering the light by means of the rope the
lanthorn came to rest in soft sand.
"It isn't very light down there," said Vince, whose feelings of
nervousness were being rapidly displaced by an intense desire to see
more; "but light does come in, and there's the waves running in and out
round here. You don't want to go back now, do you?"
"No," said Mike quickly. "Who's to go down first?"
"I will, for I found out what it was."
"All right," said Mike; "but we shall want the rope. How are we to
fasten it?"
"There's plenty," said Vince, "and we'll go back and tie it round that
last great stone in the hole."
This was done, Mike lighting him; and then, upon their returning, the
rope coil was thrown down.
"Here goes!" cried Vince. "Hold the light high up."
Mike raised it on high, and leaned forward as far as he could; while,
sitting down and grasping the rope, Vince let himself glide, and the
next moment his feet sank deep in soft sand.
"Come on!" he shouted back to where Mike was anxiously watching from
twenty feet or so above him. "It's easy as easy. Never mind the
lanthorn."
He looked round as he spoke, to see that he was in a large cavern,
floored with beautifully smooth, soft sand, and lit up by the same soft
grey dawn that had greeted him at the end of the passage, but how it
entered the place he could not make out, for no opening was visible, and
the rushing, roaring sound of the water came from the lofty roof.
Vince's was only a momentary glance, for Mike was coming slowly down the
smooth shoot, sliding on his back, but lowering himself foot by foot, as
he held on to the rope.
"There!" cried Vince, as his companion stood beside him, gazing at the
rugged walls and lofty roof of the great dry channel; "wasn't this worth
coming to see?"
"Why, it's grand," replied Mike, in a subdued voice. "I say, what a
place!"
"What a place? I should think it is. I say, Ladle, we've discovered
this, and it's all our own. You and I ought to come and stay here when
we like. I say, isn't it a size? Why, it must be thirty feet long."
He paced across the rugged hollow, tramping through the soft sand.
"Twelve paces," he cried from the other side. "It's splendid; but I
wish it was a bit lighter. There must be somewhere for the light to
come in. Yes, I see!"
Vince pointed up at the side farthest from him where he stood, and a
little closer investigation showed that the pale soft light appeared to
be reflected upward against the roof, coming from behind a screen of
rock.
Crossing to this spot, they found that they could pass round the rocky
screen, which reached half-way to the ceiling, and they now stood in a
narrow passage lit by a soft green light, which came through a low arch,
and on reaching and passing through this the boys uttered a shout of
delight, for before them was another cavern of ample dimensions, whose
low flattened roof was glorious with a lovely, ever-changing pattern,
formed by the reflection of the sunlight from the waves outside. They
were fascinated for the time by the appearance of the roof, which seemed
to be all in motion--lights and shadows, soft as silken weavings,
chasing each other, opening, closing, and interlacing in the most
wonderful way, till they grew dazzled.
"It's too much to see at one time," whispered Mike at last. "I say!
look at the arch with ferns hanging all round like lace."
"Yes, and what a colour the sea is!"
"And the anemones and limpets and coral! Look at those pools, too,
among the rocks."
"Yes, and outside at the sea-birds. I say, Ladle! did you ever see
anything like it?"
"Never thought there was such a beautiful place in the world," replied
Mike softly. "Shall we go any farther?"
"Go any farther? I should think we will! Why, Mikey, this is all our
own! Two beautiful caverns, one opening into the other, and all a
secret, only known to ourselves. Talk about luck! But come on."
They passed under the arch, and stood in a cavern opening by another
arch upon the sea, which rippled and played amongst the sand below, the
mouth of the place being protected by ridge after ridge of rock just
level with the surface, and sufficient to break the force of the wild
currents, which boiled as they rushed by a short distance out. This
cavern appeared as if, at some distant period, it had been eaten out of
soft or half-decayed strata by the waves; and its peculiarity was the
great extent of low, fairly level roof, which in places the lads could
touch by tiptoeing and extending their fingers. It ran in at least a
hundred feet; and apparently, from the state of the sand, was never
invaded by the highest tides, which were pretty exactly marked by the
living shells and sea-weed at the mouth.
Everywhere the place was carpeted with soft sand, through which stood up
smooth blocks with flattened tops, readily suggesting tables, chairs and
couches of the hardest and most durable nature.
They were not long in examining every cranny and crevice inward, fully
expecting to find some low arch leading into another or a series of
caverns; but they found nothing more, and did not spend much time in
examining the place, for the great attraction was the mouth, through
which, as if it were a frame, they gazed out at the glittering cove and
the barrier of rock, dotted with sea-birds, which hid the open sea
beyond.
Making their way, then, to the mouth, and hastily taking off shoe and
stocking, they tucked up and began to wade, so as to get outside; but
the huge buttresses which supported the rugged arch completely shut them
in, running out as they did to where the sea swirled along with
tremendous force, and looked so deep and formidable, that the two lads
grasped in a moment what the consequences of a slip would be,--no
swimmer could have stemmed such a rush.
"It's jolly--it's grand--it's splendid!" cried Vince at last, after they
had been paddling about for some time in the shallow water, and stepping
on to the low ridges of rock which barred the entrance; "but it's
precious disappointing."
"Yes," said Mike; "for we can't see much now, shut-in like this."
It was quite true; for when they had stepped from rock to rock as far as
they dared go, they were still in the mouth of the cave, which projected
far out over them like a porch, and completely hid the cove on either
side and the precipice extending upward to the ridge.
"I want to get round there to the left," said Vince, after gazing
thoughtfully along the foot of one large buttress. "It looks shallow
there, for the water's pale green. I can't see from here, but I don't
believe it's up to one's knees."
"We'll try," said Mike, springing on to the rock, flush with the water,
upon which Vince stood, with none too much room.
"Mind what you're doing!"
"Oh my! how sharp the rock is!" shouted Mike, who stood on one leg to
pet and comfort an injured toe.
"I shall go along there," said Vince, "and then keep close to the wall."
"But you'll mind and not get in the current. It would take you away
directly."
"Just as if it was likely I should risk it, with my clothes on!" said
Vince scornfully. "Do you suppose I want a soaking? I think, you know,
that if I get along there I shall be able to hold on and look up at this
part of the cliffs. 'Tis a pity there isn't a narrow shore, so that you
could walk right round."
"Well, take care," said Mike. "Mind, I'm not coming in after you, to
get wet."
Vince laughed, and, picking his way, he stepped from stone to stone,
till he was only a short distance from the massive wall of the buttress,
and not far from where the sun shone upon the water.
"Why, it's as shallow as shallow!" he cried. "I thought it was, it
looked so pale and green. I don't believe it's a foot deep, and it's
all sand, just like a garden walk; you can wade right out here, Mike,
and round by the corner, and I dare say all round the cove like this."
"Oh, do mind!" cried Mike.
"Of course I'll mind. Don't suppose I want to drown myself, do you?
What are you afraid of?"
"I'm not afraid."
"Yes, you are. You keep thinking of old Joe's nonsense about the place
being full of water bogies and things, when all the time there's nothing
but some dangerous rocks, and the sharp eddies and currents. Why, I
haven't even seen a fish!"
"Well, I have," said Mike. "I can see the mullet lying down here in the
still black water, so thick that they almost touch one another."
"You can? Well, I'll come and have a look presently. Here goes for a
wade."
Vince gave the bottoms of his trousers an extra roll, so as to get them
as high as possible above his knees, and leaning forward from where he
stood upon a detached block of stone, he rested his hands upon the side
of the great buttress, and lowered one foot into the water over ankle,
calf, and knee; and then he uttered a cry, and nearly went headlong, but
making a violent effort, he wrenched himself back, thrusting the rock
with all his might, and came down in a sitting position upon the great
stone.
CHAPTER TWELVE.
LOST IN THE DARKNESS.
"What was it?" cried Mike excitedly: "something get hold of your leg?"
"No," replied the boy, with a shiver, as his face turned clayey-looking.
"Yes."
"What was it--crab or a conger?"
"Something ever so much worse," said Vince, with a shiver. "It looks
quite hard down there, and all as tempting as can be; but it's loose
quicksand, and my foot went down into it just as if it was so much
sticky oil. There's no getting along there."
"Lucky you hadn't let go," said Mike sympathetically. "Good job we
found out as we have. It might have been much worse."
"Worse? Why, I nearly went right in. And then I should have been
sucked down. Ugh!"
Vince shuddered; but the colour began to come naturally again into his
cheeks, and after a bit he laughed as they waded back into the cavern--
being particularly careful, though, in spite of the roughness, to plant
their feet on the pieces of shell-dotted stone beneath the surface.
"Yes, it's all very well to laugh," said Mike, in an ill-used tone; "but
you're always running risks and getting into some hobble."
"Not such a good little boy as you, Ladle. You never do wrong, and--
There, see what you've done now!" cried Vince, as he stood now in the
soft, dry sand, and nestled his feet in it to take the place of a towel.
"What have I done now?"
"Come down and left the candle burning. I know you did; and it will
have burned into the socket and melted it. How will you like going back
in the dark?"
Mike stared at him aghast.
"You did forget, now, didn't you?"
"You never told me to put it out."
"I didn't tell you to eat your dinner to-day, did I?"
"No; but--"
"Where's your common sense? Now we shall have to go all through that
dark hole like a couple of worms."
"No, we shan't," cried Mike. "I've got common sense enough to know you
said you had some bits of candle in your pocket."
"Humph!" grunted Vince, whose eyes were wandering in all directions
about the beautiful cave. "What's the good of candles without something
to stick them in? That socket's melted off, I know."
"Soon manage that," said Mike, picking up a large whorled shell.
"There's a natural candlestick; and if we hadn't found that, our fists
would have done, or we could have stuck the candle on to the lanthorn
with some of the grease."
"My word, he is a clever old Ladle!" cried Vince jeeringly. "I say,
isn't this dry sand jolly for your legs? Mine are as right as can be."
"Capital," said Mike, who was pulling on his grey knitted socks. "I
say, though, we have found out a place. I vote we come often."
"Yes," said Vince. "After a bit we shall be able to step through that
dark hole as easily as can be."
"Yes, and in half the time. It's all very well to bounce, but it was
queer work coming down."
"I don't bounce, Ladle; I felt squirmy enough. Of course you couldn't
help feeling creepy when you didn't know where you were going next."
"Well, I daresay you felt so too."
"Of course I did," continued Vince. "I expected to put my foot in a
great crack every minute, and fall right through to Botany Bay."
"Yes," said Mike seriously. "There's something about being in the dark
that is queer."
"Till you get used to it," said Vince, jumping up, with his boots laced.
"Now, then, look sharp. I want to have another good look round."
"Ready," said Mike. "I say, let's make a fireplace here, and bring
wood, and get a frying-pan and a kettle, and cook fish and make tea and
enjoy ourselves."
Vince nodded assent.
"Yes," he said; "might sleep here if you came to that. Sand would make
a jolly bed and bed-clothes too. I say, we've found a place that some
boys would give their heads to have. Why, there's no end to the fun we
can have here. We can fish from the mouth."
"Yes, and I found some oysters--put my foot on them."
"And we can bring things by degrees: potatoes and apples and flour.
Why, Ladle, old chap, we can beat old Robinson Crusoe all to nothing,
and smugglers and robbers and those sort of people. But we must keep it
a secret. If any one else knew of this place being here it would be
spoiled at once. I say, what's that?"
"What?" said Mike.
"That dark bit there?" and Vince nodded to a spot in the gloomiest part
of the cavern, right up in one corner, where the roof rose highest.
"Crack in the rock. There's another just beyond."
"Yes, a regular split. Hope it don't mean that the roofs going to
tumble in."
"Not just yet," said Mike, gazing up curiously at the fault in the
granite stratum. "We might try where it goes to."
"Want a ladder," said Vince; "and you may carry it, for I'm not going to
try and bring that sort of thing down here. I say, there's the place to
make a fire, just by the mouth, and then the smoke will all go up
outside; and we can wash our fish and keep the place clean. Those pools
will be splendid. There's one deep enough to bathe in."
"There, I tell you what," said Mike; "we've got about as splendid a
place close to home as any fellows could find if they went all over the
world. I say, though, how we could laugh at old Joe if we brought him
down and showed him the Scraw has about as beautiful a cave as there is
anywhere!"
"I say, don't talk about it. I wouldn't have any one know for the
world; and do be careful about smuggling things down here."
"Don't you be afraid of that," said Mike. "Hi, look! There's a shoal
of fish out there. Mackerel, I think."
"Oh, the place teems with fish, I'm sure," said Vince, as he watched the
shimmering of the surface just in a smooth patch beyond where the sea
was troubled. "Now, then, shall we go and look at the other place
before we go back?"
"Yes," said Mike, but his tone suggesting no. "I feel as if I could sit
down in the sand and look out at the sea and the birds on the rocks
there opposite for ever."
"Without getting hungry, I suppose," said Vince. "Come on. It won't be
long before we come down again. I say, Ladle, what a place to come to
on wet days!"
"Splendid; and I shan't be satisfied till you and I have sailed round
here to see if there isn't a way of getting into the bay with a boat."
"We might; but I daresay there isn't. Very likely it's such a race and
so full of rocks that we should be upset directly. Come on."
They went down and peered through the low arch into the narrow way
between the rocks, and onward into the other chamber, which looked black
and dark to them as they entered from the well-lit outer cavern. But in
a few minutes their eyes were accustomed to the gloom, and the place
seemed filled with a soft, pearly light which impressed Mike, who was
the poetical lad of the pair.
"I say," he said softly, "isn't this one beautiful?"
"Not half so beautiful as the other," said Vince bluntly.
"Oh yes, it is so soft and grey. It's just as if it was the inside of a
great oyster-shell."
"And you were a pearl," cried Vince, laughing. "Never mind; it is very
jolly, though, and if ever we slept here this place would do for
bedroom, but I don't think that's very likely. Well, I suppose we'd
better go. We've been here a precious long time, and I shall be late
for tea."
"Never mind: come home and have tea with me. I don't feel in much of a
hurry to go up through that black hole."
"We shan't mind it if it hasn't tumbled in since we came, and shut us
up."
"I say, don't!" cried Mike, with a look of horror. "That might be true,
you know."
"Yes; but pigs might fly," cried Vince, laughing. "I say, what a chap
you are to take fright! Puzzle a stone place like that to tumble in. A
few bits might come off the roof, but even then we could crawl over
them, for they must leave a hole where they come from. Ready?"
"Yes," said Mike unwillingly, and they walked to the foot of the slide.
"I'll go first," cried Vince; and, seizing the rope, he held on by it,
and, shortening his hold as he went, contrived to walk right up to the
top, in spite of the great angle at which it stood.
"Try that way, Mike: it's as easy as easy."
The boy tried, and after a slip or two managed to reach the top pretty
well. Here it was found that the candle had burned right out, but
without injuring the socket; and a fresh piece having been set up, a
light was soon obtained, and they started back, after deciding to leave
the rope where it was, ready for their next visit, as they did not
anticipate any difficulty about climbing back up the various step-like
falls.
There was plenty to have detained them during their return journey, for
the passage of the little underground river presented a wonderfully
different aspect from the new point of view, and often seemed dimly
mysterious by the feeble yellow light of the horn lanthorn; but there
were no difficulties that a couple of active lads ready to help each
other did not readily surmount; and they went on turning curves and
loops and corners, mounting places that were once waterfalls, and
steadily progressing, till Mike was horrified by one of his companion's
remarks.
It was just as they had paused breathless before beginning to climb one
of the great step-like impediments.
"I say, Ladle," he cried, "suppose the water was to come back all of a
sudden, and begin rushing down here! What should we do?"
But Mike recovered his balance directly.
"Pooh!" he cried; "how could it? I don't believe there has been water
along here for hundreds of years."
He began to climb, and they went on again, till it struck Vince
seriously that they were a very long time getting out, and he cried, in
alarm,--
"I say, we haven't taken a wrong turning, have we?"
His words struck a chill through both, and they stood there speechless
for some moments, gazing in each other's dimly seen faces.
"Couldn't," cried Mike at last. "We did not pass a single turning."
"Didn't see a single turning?" said Vince. "No, we did not; but we
might easily have passed one going sharply off to right or left, and
come along it without noticing."
"I say, don't say that," whispered Mike hoarsely; "it sounds so
horrible. Why, we may be going right away from the daylight into some
horrible maze of a place underground."
"Seems as if that's what we are doing," said Vince sadly, "or we should
have got out by now. We must have borne off to right or left, and--here
we are."
"Yes; here we are," chorused Mike, rather piteously; "but it's no use to
be dumpy, is it? Let's go back to the cave and start again, unless we
can find out where we turned off as we go."
Vince did not reply, but opened the lanthorn, and raised his finger and
thumb to his lips to moisten them before snuffing the candle, which was
long-wicked, and threatened to gutter down.
"Mind!" cried Mike warningly, as he thought of their former fright.
"Well, I am minding. Didn't you see that I wouldn't wet my fingers?
There! that's right."
He cleverly snuffed the candle, which flashed up brightly directly, and
seemed to illumine the boy's brain more clearly, as well as the
glittering roof and sides of the water-worn passage, for he spoke out
sharply directly after.
"Look here, Ladle," he cried, "I don't believe we can have come wrong."
"Don't be obstinate," replied Mike; "we must have come wrong, or we
shouldn't be here now."
"I don't know that."
"But I do. See what a while we have been climbing back."
"Yes; because it has all been uphill, and we had so much to think of
going that we did not notice how far we went."
"But we've been hours coming back."
"Not we. You were tired, and that's made it seem so long. Come on: the
way must be right."
"No; let's turn back. I'm tired, and don't want to do it, but it's the
best way."
"But it will take so long," cried Vince.
"It'll take longer if we're going on walking we don't know where," said
Mike ominously.
"Oh, come, I say, don't go on like that," cried Vince. "Fellows who are
mates ought to try and cheer one another up, and you're doing nothing
but cheer one down."
"I must speak the truth," said Mike gloomily.
"Here! do leave off! Why, you're as bad as that old raven out over the
Scraw--all croak, croak, croak!"
"I don't want to croak; I only want for us to find the way out. Let's
go back and make a fresh start."
"I shan't," said Vince: "we're right now, I'm sure, only we went wrong
just now."
"There! I knew it! How far was it back?"
"Just where we took fright and began to fancy we were wrong. Now then,
forward."
"No," said Mike firmly; "we'll go back. You are always so rash, and
will not think."
"Yes, I will; I'm thinking now!" cried Vince warmly, "and I think that
you're about the most pig-headed fellow that there ever was. Now, look
here, Ladle, don't be stupid. I'm as sure as sure that we are going
right after all, and all we've got to do is to go straight on."
"And I'm sure that we ought to go back."
"I shan't go back!"
"And I shan't go forward!" cried Mike angrily.
"All right, then: I shan't go back. Only mind how you go, old chap:
those places where we had to creep down are rather awkward, and you may
take the skin off your nose."
"What do you mean by that?" cried Mike.
"Only that I've got the candle," said Vince, laughing. "I'll come and
see you to-morrow, and bring you something to eat, for you'll never find
your way out again in the dark."
"But I'm not going in the dark, old clever!" cried Mike, snatching the
lanthorn suddenly from his companion. "How now?"
"So how!" cried Vince, springing at him, and seizing the light structure
of tin and horn.
Then there was a sharp struggle, the two lads swaying here and there in
the narrow place, till Vince flung his companion heavily against the
wall, giving him so violent a jar as he clung to the lanthorn that the
candle was jumped out of its socket, fell over against the side, and
before the boys could even think of getting the door open, the light
flashed upon their startled faces and went out.
"You've done it now," cried Mike, in a dolorous tone.
"Oh, come, I like that," said Vince. "Who snatched the lanthorn away?
Wait till we get out, and you'll see what I'll give you."
"Get out the tinder-box quickly," said Mike.
"What for? Suppose I want you to snatch it away? I'm going on in the
dark, same as you're going back."
"Don't be an idiot," cried Mike, who was growing desperate. "Get out
the tinder-box and strike a light."
"Good-night," replied Vince tauntingly; "I'm off. Shall I tell them
you'll be home to-morrow?"
For answer Mike sprang at him and grasped him tightly.
"No, you don't play me that trick," he cried. "Get out that tinder-box
at once."
"Not I," cried Vince.
"Get out that tinder-box at once!"
"Do you want to make me savage?" growled Vince. "I don't care what I
make you now," cried Mike. "You're going to strike a light, so that we
can find our way out."
"I'm not going to strike a light and go back to please you, Ladle, and
so I tell you," said Vince, holding his companion at arm's length, with
his teeth set, and a strong desire rising in him to double his fists and
strike. "Give me the flint and steel," cried Mike fiercely. For answer
Vince wrenched himself free, thrust out his hands, and, guiding himself
by the wall, backed softly away and stood motionless, listening to
Mike's movements. Then, stooping, he picked up a stone and pitched it
over where he supposed Mike to be standing, with the result that it
clattered down on the floor.
His anger had evaporated, and his face relaxed into a grin, for his ruse
took effect directly. Judging that the noise was made by Vince backing
from him, and in his horror and confusion mistaking his way, Mike thrust
out his hands and went in the direction of the sound, while, under cover
of the noise made, Vince backed still farther, moving as silently as he
could.
"Now then," cried Mike, from fully thirty yards away, "it's of no use,--
I have you. No more nonsense: take out that box and strike a light."
Vince turned aside to smother his laughter, then turned back to listen.
"Do you hear me?" cried Mike, in a hoarse, excited tone. "You'll be
sorry for this. See if I come out with you again!"
Vince remained perfectly still, listening while he heard Mike make a
short dash or two in the darkness as if to seize him, kicking up the
stones on the floor and once more threatening what he would do when he
got hold of his companion again.
Then he shouted louder, his voice echoing along the passage; and at last
from far back in the darkness he groaned out:
"Vince! Vince, old chap, don't leave me here all alone!"
That appeal went home to Vince's heart at once.
"Who's going to?" he cried rather huskily. "Come on. This way, old
obstinate. Mr Deane's quite right: he always said you would have your
own way, even if you knew you were wrong."
"But I am so sure, Cinder--I am indeed," cried the lad, piteously. "It
is this way--it is indeed! Oh, do strike a light!"
"There now! I'm going to show you how wrong you are," said Vince
triumphantly.
"Not now: let's get out of this dreadful place."
"'Tisn't a dreadful place; it's only you scaring yourself about nothing,
same as I did. It's this way. Come along."
"Yes, I'll come," said Mike meekly; "only don't go far, and then let's
get back. But do strike a light."
"What for? There's no need. Come along, close up to me."
Mike came, blindly feeling his way, till he touched his companion, and
his hands closed tightly upon Vince's shoulder and arm.
"There!" cried Vince, "look straight before you. What can you see?"
Mike uttered a cry of joy, for right upward, and apparently at a great
distance, there was a feeble light, and a minute or two later the two
lads were beneath the matted roofing of brambles, through which the
bright evening glow was streaming. Directly after, they were out upon
the surrounding stones, carefully scanning the ridge, to see if they had
been observed. But the place was absolutely solitary, and, after hiding
the lanthorn down in the rift, the lads started for home in silence,
Mike feeling annoyed and aggrieved, while Vince's breast was full of
triumphant satisfaction.
"I say," he said, as they reached at last a little opening in among the
scrub oak trees, "are we two going to have it out before we go home?"
"No," said Mike shortly.
"Oh! all right, then; only you didn't speak or make any apology when you
knew you were wrong."
"Yes," said Mike, after an interval, "I know I was wrong. I'm very
sorry, Vince."
"So am I," said the latter, "and something worse."
Mike looked at him wonderingly.
"Yes, ever so much: I'm about half-starved."
Mike made no reply, but walked on in silence for some time, and it was
not until they were near home that he turned again and held out his
hand.
"I'm very sorry, Vince," he said.
"What about?" cried Vince.
"That we had such a row."
"Oh, bother! I'd forgotten all about it. Don't make any more fuss
about that. I say, what a bit of luck! We must keep it quiet, though,
eh?"
"Quiet? I wouldn't have any one know for the world!"
CHAPTER THIRTEEN.
A STARTLING DISCOVERY.
The two lads were such close companions, and so much accustomed to
wander off together of an afternoon, fishing, cliff-climbing, and
collecting eggs, insects, minerals, or shells, that their long absences
were not considered at all extraordinary, though they were noticed by
both Mrs Burnet and Lady Ladelle, and one evening formed the subject of
a few remarks at dinner.
The Doctor and his wife often dined at the old manor-house, and upon
this occasion Mike's mother asked her visitors if they did not think
they wandered too much.
"No," said Sir Francis, taking the answer out of his guests' mouths
laughingly. "Mrs Burnet doesn't think anything of the kind, so don't
you put such ideas in her head."
"But they are often so late, my dear."
"Well, it's summer-time, and cooler of an evening. Pleasantest part of
the day. If they work well, let them play well. Eh, Burnet?"
"Certainly," said the Doctor, "so long as they don't get into mischief.
But do they work well?"
"What do you say, Mr Deane?" said the baronet.
"Admirably," replied the tutor; "but I must say that I should like them
to have a couple of hours' more study a day--say a couple of hours in
the afternoon."
"No," said the Doctor emphatically. "You work them well with their
English and classics and calculations every morning: let them have some
of Nature's teaching of an afternoon, and strengthen their bodies after
you've done strengthening their heads."
"I side with you, Burnet," said the baronet. "Let them go on as they
are for a year or two, and then we'll see."
The tutor bowed. "I only thought I was not doing enough for them," he
said apologetically.
"Plenty, my dear sir--plenty. I like to see them bringing home plenty
of litter, as the servants call it."
"Yes," said the Doctor, "all's education. I see Lady Ladelle fidgets
about her boy, just as my wife does. They'll be all right. They can't
go very far from home."
"But I always dread some accident," said Mrs Burnet.
"Yes, my dear, you are always inventing something, and have been ever
since Vince broke his leg."
"Through going into dangerous places," said Mrs Burnet.
"Well, yes, that was from a cliff fall; but he might have done it from
tumbling off a wall or over a chair."
Just when this conversation was taking place the boys were slowly
trudging home from their "retreat," as they called it--coming by a
circuitous way, for the fact was very evident that old Daygo did spend a
good deal of time in watching the boys' proceedings, and Vince was
strongly of opinion that he suspected their discovery.
But Mike was as fully convinced to the contrary.
"He has no idea of it, I'm sure; but he is curious to know where we go.
The old chap always talks as if the island belonged to him. He'd better
not interfere with it if he does find out; but, I say, fancy old Daygo
scrambling down through that passage. I should like to see him."
"I shouldn't," said Vince, "especially after all we've done."
For a month had glided away, and they had been pretty busy, during their
many visits to the place, carrying all kinds of little things which they
considered they wanted, with the result that the lanthorn and a supply
of candles always stood in a niche a short distance down the passage;
short ropes were fastened wherever there was one of the sharp or sloping
descents, so that they could run down quickly; and in several places a
hammer and cold chisel had been utilised so as to chip out a foothold.
In the caverns themselves there was a fireplace, a keg which they kept
supplied with water, a small saucepan, a little frying-pan, and a common
gridiron, all of which had been bought and brought for them by the
skipper of the little smack which touched at the island like a marine
carrier's cart once a week.
Then they had an axe and saw, and stored up driftwood for their fire;
fishing lines and a good supply of hooks; a gaff and many other objects,
including towels--for the pools in the outer cavern's mouth were now
their regular places for bathing.
As the time went on the novelty of possessing such a curious secret
place did not wear off. On the contrary, the satisfaction it afforded
them grew, the more especially that the journey to and fro had become
much more simple, for they had picked out the easiest way through the
oak wood, knew the smoothest path among the granite blocks, and were
always finding better ways of threading the rugged chaos at the bottom
of the ridge slope.
As far as they could see ahead it seemed to them that there was nothing
more to discover, and they might go on keeping the place entirely to
themselves till they were grown up.
But at sixteen or so we do not know everything. It was the day after
the conversation at the old manor-house that, after a long morning with
Mr Deane, the two boys met as usual, and started in the opposite
direction to that which they intended to take, for they had not taken
many steps before Vince kicked out sidewise and struck Mike on the boot.
"What did you do that for?" said the other angrily.
"'Cause I liked;" and a tussle ensued, half serious on one side, jocular
on the other.
"Now," whispered Vince, "break away and run towards that bay, and I'll
chase you."
"What for? What's come to you this afternoon?"
"Don't look round. Old Daygo's sitting under a stone yonder smoking his
pipe."
Mike obeyed, running off as hard as he could go, chased by Vince, till
they were well out of sight, and then, by making a _detour_ of a good
half-mile, they reached the oak wood a long way north of their customary
way of entrance, and began to plod onward towards their goal.
"That's what they call throwing dust in any one's eyes, isn't it?" said
Mike, laughing.
"Yes," said Vince, "and we shall have to make it sand with old Joe.
He's getting more and more suspicious, though I don't see why it matters
to him. You see, we never go near him now to ask him to take us out
fishing, or into one of the west bays to shell, and he thinks we have
something else on the way."
"Well, so we have, and--Hullo, Joe! you there?"
"Yes, young gentleman, I'm here," said Daygo gruffly, as he suddenly
came upon them in a little opening in the wood. "I thought you'd gone
down to the west bays."
"Well, we did think of going; but it's cooler and more shady here. The
sun does come down so strongly there under the cliffs. Seen any
rabbits?"
"Two on 'em," said the man; "but you won't ketch them. Dog couldn't do
it, let alone you. Ounce o' shot's only thing I know that runs fast
enough to ketch them."
It was an awkward predicament, and both lads had the same feeling that
they would like to go off at once in another direction, only that they
shrank from leaving the old fisherman, for fear he should find the way
down into the caves.
They wandered on in his company for a few minutes, and then Vince took
the initiative and cried,--
"I say, I'm sick of this; it's dreadful. Come out on the common
somewhere, so that we can get down to the sea."
"I don't think you can get down anywhere near here. Can you, Joe?"
asked Mike.
"Oh yes," said the old man; "easy enough. I'll show you a place if you
like."
"Come on, then!" cried Vince eagerly.
"Off here, then," said Daygo; "on'y I ought to tell you that you won't
enjy yourselves, for it'll take Doctor Burnet all his time to pull you
both together again."
The old fellow burst into a fit of chuckling at this, and looked from
one to the other, thoroughly enjoying their disgusted looks.
"There, I knew he was making fun of us. Of course there's no way down,"
grumbled Mike. "Come on out of this scrimble-scramble place. What's
the good of tiring ourselves for the sake of seeing a rabbit's white
cotton tail."
Vince was about to follow his companion, but turned to shout after
Daygo.
"I say, when are you going to take us fishing again?"
"When you two young gents likes to come; on'y you've both been so mortal
proud lately. Never come anigh to me, and as to wanting a ride in a
boat, not you. Got one of your own somewheres, I suppose. Hev yer?"
Mike shook his head, and they went on in silence for a few minutes
before Mike whispered,--
"What shall we do: creep back and watch him?"
"No. If we did we should come upon him directly. He's watching us, I'm
sure. Let's go to the cliff edge somewhere for a bit, and then go to
the other side of the island. We shan't get down to the cave to-day."
As far as they could tell they were unobserved the next afternoon, and
after exercising plenty of caution they reached the mouth of the little
river tunnel and dropped down out of sight one after the other in an
instant. In fact, so quick was their disappearance that it would have
puzzled the keenest searcher as to where they had gone. For one moment
they were standing upon a piece of lichen-covered granite, the next they
had leaped in among the brambles, which parted for them to pass through
and sprang up again, the lads dropping on to the old stream bed, which
they had carefully cleared of stones. They left no footmarks there, and
they were careful to preserve the thin screen of ferns and bramble, so
that a watcher would have credited them with having ducked down and
crept away.
This ruse, trifling as it may seem, added to their enjoyment of their
hiding-place, and as soon as they were in darkness they struck a light
and went on down to the caves, had a look round, and Mike immediately
began to get down the fishing lines which hung from a wooden peg driven
into a granite crack.
"Never mind the fish to-day," said Vince, who was busily fixing a fresh
piece of candle in the lanthorn.
"Why? We're not hungry now, but we shall be before we go back. Hullo!
what are you going to do?"
"Wait a bit, and you'll see," replied Vince, who now took a little coil
of rope from where it hung, and then asked his companion's assistance to
extricate something which he had placed in the belt he wore under his
jersey.
"Why, whatever have you got here?"
"Grapnel," was the reply; and Vince began to rub the small of his back
softly. "I say, how a thing like that hurts! It's worse than carrying
a hammer. I'm quite sore."
Mike laughed, and again more heartily upon seeing Vince begin to secure
the grapnel with a sea-going knot to the length of rope.
"Let those laugh that lose," cried Vince sententiously; "they are sure
to who win."
"Enough to make any one laugh," cried Mike. "What are you going to bait
with?"
"You, if you like," said Vince sharply, "Wonder what I should catch?"
"Here! no nonsense," cried Mike: "what are you really going to do?"
"What we've been talking about so long. Try and get up through that
crack up there."
Mike whistled.
"Why, of course," he said. "What a good idea! But I don't believe it
goes in above a foot or two."
"Oh yes, it does," said Vince decisively. "I thought so a little while
ago, but last time we came I found out that it goes ever so far, and so
I brought this hook."
"And never told me."
"Telling you now, aren't I?"
"But how did you know?"
"Saw a pigeon fly out."
"Well, that proves nothing. It only flew in to settle for a bit, and
then came out again."
"That's what I fancied," said Vince, trying his knot by standing upon
the grapnel and tugging hard with both hands at the rope; "but I watched
while you were lying on your back asleep and saw others go in and come
out."
"Well, that only shows that there are several nests there instead of
one. I say, let's bring some paste next time we come and make a pigeon
pudding of young ones. I'll get our cook to make us some. I'll tell
her what we want it for, and she'll think we are going to make a sort of
picnic dinner under a rock somewhere."
"Wait a bit, and let's try first," said Vince. "There, I'm ready now.
We did talk about examining that great crack when we came, but I thought
it wasn't worth the trouble till yesterday. I fancy it leads into
another cave."
"Hope it does," said Mike. "Make this place all the more interesting."
"Couldn't," said Vince shortly. "Come along and let's see if I can
catch a big fish without a bait."
They went to the darkest corner of the outer cave, where the roof was
highest, and after laying the rope ready, Vince took hold of it about
two feet from the large triple hook, swung it to and fro several times,
and then sent it flying upward towards the roof, where it struck the
edge of the jagged crack ten feet or so above their heads and came down
with a loud clang.
"One," said Mike. "Three offers out."
"All right: you shall have your innings then," said Vince, picking up
the hook, aiming more truly, and again sending it flying up.
This time it passed right up out of sight and fell back, striking the
bottom of the crack and glancing off again to the floor, falling
silently into the sand.
"Two," cried Mike. "He won't do it."
"Wait a bit," said Vince, and he swung the hook upward. There was a
click, and it stayed just within the crack; while the lad laughed.
"Now," he cried, "can't I do it?"
"No!" said Mike triumphantly, for at the first jerk of the rope the iron
fell back into the sand.
"You don't know how to throw a grapnel," said Mike, picking up the rope.
"There, stand aside and I'll show you."
Vince drew back, and after a good deal of swinging, Mike launched the
grapnel upward, so that it passed right into the hole some distance from
the length of rope which followed; then came a click, and the rope hung
swinging from the sloping roof.
"There!" cried Mike.
"It'll come away as soon as you pull it."
Mike gave the rope a tug, then a sharp jerk, and another, before,
raising his hands and grasping it as high as he could, he took a run,
and then, raising his legs, let himself swing to and fro.
"Bear anything," he cried. "There, you'd better go first."
"You fastened it," said Vince, "so you've got first go."
"No, it was your idea. Up with you! but you've scared the pigeons
away."
Vince seized the rope as high as he could reach, twisted it about his
leg, pressing the strong strands against his calf with the edge of his
shoe-sole, and then began to climb slowly, drawing himself up by the
muscular strength of his arms, while the rope began to revolve with him
slowly.
"Meat's burning," cried Mike, grinning. "Wants basting;" and he picked
up handsful of sand to scatter over the climber's back.
But Vince was too busy to heed his interruption, and by trying hard he
soon drew himself right into the narrow crack, and the next minute only
his boots were visible, and they were drawn out of sight directly after.
"Well?" cried Mike; "what have you found?"
"Grapnel," panted Vince; for climbing a single thin rope is hard work.
"Yes, but what else?"
"Big crack, which goes right in. Light the lanthorn and fasten, it to
the end of the rope."
This was soon done and the light drawn up.
"I say, play fair!" cried Mike, as the lanthorn disappeared; "don't go
and do all the fun yourself."
For answer Vince threw him down the rope, which he had freed from the
lanthorn.
"Come up," he said shortly; and Mike, who began to be deeply interested,
his curiosity now being excited, seized the rope and began in turn to
climb.
He was as active as his companion, and as much accustomed to rope work,
the pair having often let themselves down portions of the cliff and
climbed again in their search for eggs; so that in another minute he too
was in the crack, dimly lit by the lanthorn, which Vince had set low
down, where the fracture in the rock began to close in towards where it
was again solid.
"Don't seem much of a place," said Mike, rising upright, but having to
keep himself in that position by resting a foot on either side of the
rift. "Goes in, though."
"Yes," said Vince, "and I was right, for the pigeons must have flown
through."
"No," said Mike, looking about: "nests somewhere on one of the ledges."
"Are no ledges here," said Vince: "the top goes up to a point. Shall we
go on?"
"Of course," said Mike; and, taking up the lanthorn, Vince began to
shuffle himself along the narrow, awkward place, till, at the end of a
dozen yards, in darkness which grew thicker as he went, the great crack
turned suddenly right off to the right, and again directly after to the
left.
"Why, it looks just the same shape as a flash of lightning," cried Mike.
"Does it get any bigger?"
"Doesn't seem to," was the reply; "but there's plenty of room to walk
along."
"Walk? I don't call this walking? I'm going along like a lame duck
striddling a gutter. I say, think there's ever been water along here?"
"Sure there hasn't," said Vince, holding the light low down. "Why, you
can see. The rock isn't worn a bit, but looks as sharp as if it had
only lately been split."
"But what could split it? The lightning?"
"No: father says these rocks crack from the water washing the stuff away
from beneath them, and then the tremendous weight does the rest. But I
don't know. I say, though, I shouldn't wonder if this goes on into
another cave. Look here."
Mike pressed forward, and found, as his companion held up the light,
that the fault in the rock shot off sharply now to the left, and sloped
up at an angle of some forty-five degrees.
"Looks awkward," said Mike. "Are we going up there?"
"Of course. Why not? We can climb it."
"Oh yes, I can get up there; but it isn't very good for the boots."
Good or bad, Vince did not hesitate, but, lanthorn in hand, commenced
the ascent by climbing right in the narrow part of the rift, where each
foot became wedged between the sides of the opening, and had to be
dragged out again as the next foot was brought over and placed in front.
"Awkward travelling," said Vince; "but you can't slip."
"Begin to feel as if I can," replied Mike--"right out of my shoes. I
say, it is awkward."
The distance they had to traverse here, however, was but short, and the
next angle showed that the fault was at a much easier slope, while the
opening was wider, so that they got along more pleasantly. But at the
end of another twenty yards the walls began to close in, and the place
looked so uninviting that Mike stopped. "Hadn't we better go back?" he
said. "What for?" replied Vince. "Let's see the end of it. We can't
make any mistake in going back. There's no roof to fall, and no pits or
holes to drop into."
"But it may go on for ever so long; and, I say, I don't believe a pigeon
ever flew through here."
"Well, I don't know," said Vince. "It seemed to me as if they did,
and--Hurrah, Ladle! I can see light."
"Light? So there is. Look! it must come from round the next corner.
That's reflection we can see."
And so it proved: for upon passing the next sharp angle Vince found
himself facing the sea, which was visible through a great arch, far
larger and more rugged than that in their own cavern mouth. Going on a
little farther, he found himself at the end of the singular zigzag
passage, which was an opening in the roof of another and larger cavern,
and into which they looked down as from a window.
It was lighter and loftier than their own, and, like it, beautifully
carpeted with sand; but, to the amazement of the lads, instead of this
being smooth and wind-swept, as that of their own place when they first
discovered it, the floor was covered with footmarks leading from the
mouth inward to where the great cave grew dim and obscure. There were
sails, too, and ropes. Several small yards and spars lay together by
the side of the wall, and farther in were sails and three or four oars.
But what most took their attention was the fact that, dimly outlined in
the higher part of the cave there were little stacks, which looked as if
they were built up of packages or bales, side by side with which,
carefully stacked in the sand, were dozens upon dozens of small kegs.
As their eyes grew more familiar with the gloom at the upper end, they
realised that there were a great number of these bales and kegs, the
former being of three kinds, varying a good deal in shape and size.
They neither of them spoke, not daring even to whisper, for the feeling
was strong upon them that the next thing they would see must be the
figure of some fierce-looking smuggler in big boots, belted, carrying
cutlass and pistols, and crowned with a scarlet cap.
Then they started back in alarm, for there was the sharp whirring of
wings, and half a dozen pigeons darted out of the cavern, seeming to
come from far back beyond the stacks of kegs and bales, and rushing out
into the bright light beneath the arch.
It was nothing to mind; but their nerves were on the strain, and they
breathed more freely as soon as the birds were gone. It seemed to
signify that no human beings were in the higher part of the cavern, and
the solemn silence of the place encouraged them at last to speak, but
only in whispers.
"Wish we'd brought the rope," said Vince; "we might have got down."
"Ugh! It wouldn't be safe. They might come and catch us."
"Who might?"
"The smugglers."
"Smugglers? There are no smugglers on the Crag."
"Well, those must be smuggled goods, anyhow," said Mike.
"Can't be."
"What are they, then? I'll be bound to say that those little kegs have
all got `Hollands' or French spirits in them, and the packages are silk
and velvet, and the other parcels laces and things--perhaps tobacco."
"But we never heard of smuggling here. Who can it be?"
"Well, that's what they are, for certain," said Mike. "It's just like
what one's read about. They must be ever so old--a hundred years,
perhaps--and been put here and forgotten."
"Perhaps so," said Vince.
"Then we'll claim them for ours," said Mike decisively. "They can't
belong to anybody else now. Nobody can be alive who brought them a
hundred years ago."
"No," said Vince; "but I don't see how we can claim them. I say,
though, it shows that boats can get into the cove."
"Or could at one time."
"Place wouldn't alter much in a hundred years. I do wish, though, we
had brought the rope. Perhaps as soon as we touch those bales they'll
all tumble into dust."
"And all the kegs have gone dry," said Mike.
"And all we can see before us only so much dust and touchwood. I say,
Mike, we shan't be very rich from our find. I do wish we had brought
the rope. Let's go back and get it."
"Let's go back soon," replied Mike; "but I don't think we'll come again
to-day. My head feels all of a whizz."
"Yes, it is exciting," said Vince thoughtfully. "Perhaps you're right:
we won't come back to-day." And, contenting themselves with a long,
searching inspection from the window-like place they occupied, they soon
after returned, and, after placing the grapnel so that it could be
jerked out, went down the rope, got the iron hooks loose, and seated
themselves to think.
That evening they got home early, each so full of the great discovery
that, when they went to bed, it was long before they slept, and then
their brains were busy with strange dreams, in which one was fighting
for his life against a host of well-armed men, the victor taking a
vessel with the treasure of valuable silks and spices, and making his
parents rich people to the last.
But an idea was dominant with both when they woke, soon after sunrise.
They must go back to the cavern soon, and probe the mystery to the very
end.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN.
DAYGO DESCRIBES HORRORS.
"Er-her! Going to school! Yer!"
Vince, who had some books under his arm, felt a peculiar twitching in
the nerves, as he turned sharply upon the heavy-looking lad who had
spoken the above words, with the prologue and epilogue formed of jeering
laughs, which sounded something like the combinations placed there to
represent them.
The speaker was the son of the Jemmy Carnach who was, as the Doctor
said, a martyr to indigestion--a refined way of expressing his intense
devotion to lobsters, the red armour of which molluscs could be seen
scattered in every direction about his cottage door, and at the foot of
the cliff beyond.
As Jemmy Carnach had thought proper to keep up family names in
old-fashioned style, he had had his son christened James, like his
father, grandfather and great-grandfather--which was as far as Carnach
could trace. The result was a little confusing, the Crag island not
being big enough for two Jemmy Carnachs. The fishermen, however, got
over the difficulty by always calling the father Jemmy and his son Young
'un; but this did not suit Vince and Mike, with whom there had always
been a feud, the fisherman's lad having constantly displayed an intense
hatred, in his plebeian way, for the young representatives of the
patricians on the isle. The manners in which he had shown this, from
very early times, were many; and had taken the forms of watching till
the companions were below cliffs, and then stealing to the top and
dislodging stones, that they might roll down upon their heads; filling
his pockets with the thin, sharply ground, flat oyster-shells to be
found among the beach pebbles--a peculiarly cutting kind of weapon--and
at every opportunity sending them skimming at one or other of the lads;
making holes in their boat, when they had one--being strongly suspected
of cutting two adrift, so that they were swept away, and never heard of
again; and in divers other ways showing his dislike or hatred--
displaying an animus which had become intensified since Mike had called
in Vince's help to put a stop to raids and forays upon the old manor
orchard when the apples, pears and plums were getting ripe, the result
being a good beating with tough oak saplings.
Not that this stopped the plundering incursions, for Carnach junior told
the two lads, and probably believed, as an inhabitant of the island,
that he had as good a right to the fruit as they.
Of course the many assaults and insults dealt out by Carnach junior--for
he was prolific in unpleasant words and jeers, whenever the companions
came within hearing--had results in the shape of reprisals. Vince was
not going to see Mike Ladelle's ear bleeding from a cut produced by a
forcibly propelled oyster-shell, without making an attack upon the young
human catapult; and Mike's wrath naturally boiled over upon seeing a
piece of rock pushed off the edge of the cliff, and fall within a foot
of where Vince was lying on the sand at the foot. But the engagements
which followed seemed to do no good, for Carnach junior was so extremely
English that he never seemed to realise that he had been thrashed till
he had lain down with his eyes so swollen up that there was hardly room
for the tears to squeeze themselves out, and his lips so disfigured that
his howls generally escaped through his nose.
"I never saw such a fellow," Vince used to say: "if you only slap his
face, it swells up horribly."
"And it's of no use to lick him, it doesn't do any good," added Mike.
"Why, I must have thrashed him a hundred times, and you too."
This was a remark which showed that either Mr Deane's instructions in
the art of calculation were faulty, or Mike's mental capacity inadequate
for acquiring correctness of application.
Still there must have been some truth in Mike's words, for Vince, who
was a great stickler for truthfulness, merely said:
"Ah! we have given it to him pretty often."
Vince and Mike did not take to Young 'un or Youngster, as a sobriquet
for Carnach junior, and consequently they invented quite a variety of
names, which were chosen, not for the purpose of distinguishing the fat,
flat-faced, rather pig-eyed youth from other people, but it must be
owned for annoyance, and by way of retaliation for endless insults.
"You see, we must do something," said Mike.
"Of course," agreed Vince; "and I'm tired of making myself hot and
knocking my knuckles about against his stupid head; and besides, it
seems so blackguardly, as a doctor's son, to be fighting a chap like
that."
"Oh, I don't know," said Mike thoughtfully: "I shall be a Sir some day,
I suppose."
"What a game!" chuckled Vince--"Sir Michael Ladelle!"
"I don't see anything to laugh at," said Mike; "but, as I was saying, if
we don't lick him every now and then there'll be no bearing it. He'll
get worse and worse."
So it was to show their contempt for the young lout that they invented
names for him--weakly, perhaps, but very boylike--and for a time he was
James the Second, but the lad seemed rather to approve of that; and it
was soon changed for Barnacle, which had the opposite effect, and two
fights down in a sandy cave resulted, at intervals of a week, one with
each of his enemies, after which the Barnacle lay down as usual, and
cried into the sand, which acted, Vince said, like blotting paper.
Tar-pot, suggested by a begrimed appearance, lasted for months, and was
succeeded by Doughy, and this again by Puffy, consequent upon the lad's
head having so peculiar a tendency to what home-made bread makers call
"rise," and as there was no baker on Cormorant Crag the term was
familiar enough.
A whole string of forgotten names followed, but none of them stuck, for
they did not irritate Carnach junior; but the right one in the boys'
eyes was found at last, upon a very hot day, following one upon which
Vince and Mike had been prawning with stick and net among the rock pools
under the cliffs,--and prawning under difficulties. For as they climbed
along over, or waded amongst the fallen rocks detached from the towering
heights above, Carnach junior, who had watched them descend, furnished
himself with a creel full of heavy pebbles, and, making his way to the
top of the cliffs, kept abreast and carefully out of sight, so as to
annoy his natural enemies from time to time by dropping a stone into, or
as near as he could manage to the little pool they were about to fish.
Words, addressed apparently to space, though really to the invisible
foe, were vain, and the boys fished on; but they did not take home many
prawns for Mrs Burnet to have cooked for their tea.
The very next day, though, they had their revenge, for they came upon
the lad toiling homeward, shouldering a couple of heavy oars, a boat
mast and yard, and the lug-sail rolled round them, and lashed so as to
form a big bundle, as much as he could carry; and, consequent upon his
scarlet face, Vince saluted him with:
"Hullo, Lobster!"
That name went like an arrow to the mark, and pierced right through the
armour of dense stupidity in which the boy was clad. Lobster! That
fitted with his father's weakness and the jeering remarks he had often
heard made by neighbours; and ever after the name stuck, and irritated
him whenever it was used.
It was used on the morning when Vince was thinking deeply of the
discovery of the previous day, and going over to Sir Francis Ladelle's
for his lessons with Mike. As we have said, he was saluted with coarse,
jeering laughter, and the contemptuous utterance of the words "Going to
school?"
Being excited, Vince turned sharply upon the great hulking lad, and his
eyes began to blaze war, but with a laugh he only fell back on the
nickname.
"Hullo, Lobster!" he cried: "that you?" and went on.
Carnach junior doubled his fists, and looked as if he were going to
attack; but Vince, strong in the consciousness that he could at any time
thrash the great lad, walked on with his books, heedless of the fact
that he was followed at a distance, for his head was full of kegs and
bales neatly done up in canvas, standing in good-sized stacks.
"I wonder how many years it has been there," he kept on saying to
himself; and he was still wondering when he reached the old manor gates,
went into the study, and there found Mike and their tutor waiting.
Both lads tried very hard to keep their discovery out of their minds
that morning, but tried in vain. There it was constantly, and
translated itself into Latin, conjugated and declined itself, and then
became compound algebraic equations, with both.
Mr Deane bore all very patiently, though, and a reproachful word or two
about inattention and condensation of thought upon study was all that
escaped him.
At last, to Vince's horror, things came to a kind of climax, for Mike
suddenly looked across the table at the tutor, and said quickly:--
"I say, Mr Deane!"
The tutor looked up at once.
"I want to ask you a question in--in--something--"
"Mathematics?" suggested the tutor.
"N-no," said Mike: "I think it must be in law or social economy. I
don't know, though, what you would call it."
"Well: let me hear."
"Suppose anybody discovered a great store of smuggled goods, hidden in
a--some place. Whom would it belong to?"
"To the people who put it there, of course." Vince's eyes almost blazed
as he turned them upon the questioner.
"Yes," continued Mike; "but suppose there were no people left who put it
there, and they had all died, perhaps a hundred years ago?"
"Oh, then," said the tutor thoughtfully, "I should think it would belong
to the people upon whose ground it was discovered,--or no: I fancy it
would be what is called `treasure trove,' and go to the crown."
"Crown--crown? What, to a public-house?"
"No, no, my dear boy: to the king."
"Oh, I see," said Mike thoughtfully. "Is that all?"
"Yes, sir; that's all."
"Well, then, wasn't it rather a foolish question to ask, just in the
middle of our morning's work? There, pray go on: we are losing a great
deal of time."
The boys tried to get on; but they did not, for Mike was conscious of
being kicked twice, and Vince was making up a tremendous verbal attack
upon his fellow-student for letting out the discovery they had made.
It came to words as soon as the lessons were over, and Mike took his cap
to accompany Vince part of the way home, and make their plans for the
afternoon.
"I couldn't help it--'pon my word I couldn't," cried Mike. "I felt like
that classic chap, who was obliged to whisper secrets to the water, and
that I must speak about that stuff there to somebody."
"And now he'll go and talk to your father about it, and our secret place
will be at an end. Why, we might have kept it all quiet for years!"
"So we can now. I put it so that old Deane shouldn't understand. I
say, if he's right we can't claim all that stuff: it'll belong to the
king."
"I suppose so," said Vince.
"Never mind: we'll keep it till he wants it. Hullo! what's old Lobster
doing there?"
Vince turned in the direction pointed out; and, sure enough, there was
Carnach junior sunning himself on a block of granite, which just peeped
up through the grass.
"Got nothing to do, I suppose," said Vince. "I saw him when I was
coming. But never mind him. And I say, don't, pray don't be so stupid
again."
"All right. I'll try not to be, if it was stupid," said Mike. "Well,
how about this afternoon?"
"I'll come and meet you at the old place, about half-past two."
This was agreed to; and, full of anticipations about the examination of
the farther cave, they parted, leaving Carnach junior apparently fast
asleep upon the grey stone.
Just as Vince reached home he came upon Daygo, who gave him a nod; and
the lad flushed as he thought triumphantly of the discoveries they had
made, in the face of the old fisherman's superstitious warnings of
terrible dangers.
"Morn'--or art'noon, young gen'leman," said Daygo, by way of salutation.
"Lookye here: I'm going out 'sart'noon to take up my pots and nets, and
if you and young squire likes to come, I'll take you for a sail."
"Where will you take us?" said Vince eagerly.
"Oh, round and about, and in and out among the rocks."
"Will you sail right away round by the Black Scraw?"
"No, I just won't," growled the old man fiercely. "What do you want to
go round about the Scraw for?"
"To see what it's like, and find some of the terrible currents and
things you talked about, Joe."
"Lookye here, my lad," growled the old fellow, "as I told you boys
afore, I want to live as long as I can, and not come to no end, with the
boat bottom uppards and me sucked down by things in the horrid
whirlypools out there. Why, what would your mars and pars say to me if
I took you into dangers 'orrible and full o' woe? Nay, nay, I arn't a
young harem-scarem-brained chap, and I shan't do it: my boat's too good.
So look here, if you two likes to come for a bit o' fishing, I'll take
the big scrarping spoon with me, and go to a bank I know after we've
done, and try and fish you up a basket o' oysters. If you comes you
comes, but if you arn't wi' me soon arter dinner, why, I hystes my sail
and goes by myself. So what do you say?"
"I can't say anything without seeing Mike Ladelle first. Look here: I'm
going to him this afternoon, and if he'll come, we'll run over to the
little dock where your boat is."
"Very good, young gen'leman; on'y mind this: if you arn't there
punctooal, as folks call it, I'm off without you, and you'll be sorry,
for there's a powerful lot o' fish about these last few days."
"Don't wait if we're not there directly after dinner," said Vince.
Old Daygo chuckled.
"You needn't be afraid of that, my lad," he said; "and mind this,--if
you're late and I've started, I'm not coming back, so mind that.
D'reckly you've had your bit o' dinner, or I'm gone."
"All right, Joe," cried Vince; and he hurried in, feeling pulled both
ways, for he could not help nursing the idea that, once out a short
distance at sea, he might be able to coax the old fisherman into taking
them as close as he could safely get to the ridge of rocks which hid the
little rounded cove from passers-by.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN.
A SPY ON THE WAY.
Punctual to the time the lads met; and Vince, who was full of old
Daygo's proposal, laid it before his companion.
"What!" cried Mike; "go with him, when we've got such an adventure
before us! You wouldn't do that!"
"Why not? We can go to the caverns any day, and this will be a chance
to sail round and see what the outside of the Scraw is like."
"Did he say he would take us there?" cried Mike eagerly.
"No; but we'd persuade him."
"Persuade him!" cried Mike, bursting into a mocking laugh. "Persuade
old Joe! Why, you do know better than that."
Vince frowned and said nothing, for he did know better, and felt that he
had let his desires get the better of his judgment.
"Very well," he said. "You'd rather not go?"
"Well, wouldn't you rather go and have a look at those old things than
see a few fish in a net?"
"Yes, if Joe wouldn't sail round where I want to go."
"Well, he wouldn't, and you know it. Why, this is a chance. You felt
sure he was watching us; and he'll be off to sea, where he can't."
"Off, then!" said Vince; and, full of anticipations, they made for the
oak wood, and were soon at the opening, into which, without pausing to
look round, they leaped down quickly; and, after lighting the lanthorn,
descended as rapidly as they could to the rope.
The place looked as beautiful as ever, as they slid down to the sandy
floor of the inner cavern, and more than ever like the interior of some
large shell; while the outer cave, with its roof alive, as it were, with
the interlacing wavings and quiverings reflected from the sunny surface
of the sea, would have made any one pause.
But the boys had no eyes for anything that day but the wonders of their
new discovery; and, quickly getting to work with the rope and grapnel,
Mike threw it up.
"Got a bite!" he cried. "No: he's off."
For, after catching, the grapnel gave way again.
The second time he missed; but the third he got another hold, and told
Vince to climb first.
This he did, and in a very few seconds he was two-thirds of the way up,
when with a scrape the grapnel gave way, and Vince came down flat on his
back in the sand, with the iron upon him.
"Hurt?" cried Mike.
"Not much," said Vince, rubbing one leg, which the iron had struck.
"Try again."
Mike threw once more, got a hold, and, to prove it, began to climb, and
reached the opening safely. Then the lanthorn was drawn up, Vince
followed, and this time taking the rope with them, they went along
through the peculiar zigzag free from doubts and dread of dangers
unknown, so that they could think only of the various difficulties of
the climb.
Upon nearing the open end of the fissure they kept back the lanthorn and
advanced to peer down cautiously; but, save a few pigeons flying in and
out, there was no sign of life. Everything was just as they had seen it
before; the footprints all over the trampled sand, which had probably
been made ages before, so they thought; the boat mast, sails, and ropes,
were at the side, and in the shadowy upper part there were the stacks of
bales and the carefully piled-up kegs.
"Well?" said Mike; "shall we go down?"
"Of course."
"But suppose there is any one there?"
"We'll soon see," said Vince; and, placing his hands to his mouth, he
gave vent to a hullo! whose effect was startling; for it echoed and
vibrated about the great cave, startling a flock of pigeons, which
darted out with a loud whistling of wings.
Then the sound came back in a peculiar way from the barrier of rocks
across the bay, for there was evidently a fluttering there among the
sea-birds, some of which darted down into sight just outside the mouth
of the cave.
"Nobody at home," said Vince merrily, "and hasn't been lately. Now
then: may I go first?"
"If you like," said Mike; and, after securely hooking the grapnel in a
crevice, Vince threw the rope outward from him into the cavern, where it
touched the sand some twenty feet below.
"There we are!" he said; "that's easier than throwing it up."
"Yes, but look sharp down. I want to have a good look."
"After me," said Vince mockingly; and, taking the rope, he lowered
himself out of the crack, twisted his leg round the hemp, and quickly
dropped hand over hand to the flooring of the cave.
"Ever so much bigger than ours, Mike," he shouted, and then turned
sharply round, for a voice said plainly:
"Ours, Mike."
"I say, what an echo!"
"Echo!" came back.
"Well, I said so."
"Said so."
"Hurrah!" cried Mike, as he too reached the floor, and a soft "Rah" came
from the other side.
Their hearts beat fast with excitement as they stood in the middle of
the cave, looking round, and pretty well taking in at a glance that it
was far larger and more commodious than the one they had just quitted,
especially for the purpose of a store, having the hinder part raised, as
it were, into a dais or platform, upon which the little barrels and
packages were stored; while behind these they were able now to see
through the transparent gloom that the place ran back for some distance
till flooring and roof met. Instead, too, of the entrance being barred
by ridge after ridge of rocks, there was only one some little distance
beyond the mouth to act as a breakwater, leaving ample room for a boat
to come round at either end and be beached upon the soft sand, which lay
perfectly smooth where the water slightly rose and fell.
There was a fine view of the rounded cove from here; and the boys felt
that if they were to wade out they would be able to get beyond the
archway sufficiently to look up the overhanging face of the cliff; but,
with the recollection of the quicksands at the mouth of their own cave,
neither of them felt disposed to venture, and they were about to turn
back and examine the goods stored behind them, when on their right there
was a loud rush and a heavy splash, and Mike seized his companion's arm
just as a head rose out of the water, and for a moment it seemed as if a
boy was watching them, the face being only faintly seen, from the head
being turned away from the light.
"Seal," said Vince quietly. "Shows how long it is since any one was
here, for things like that to be about!"
He caught up a couple of handfuls of sand and flung it toward the
creature, which dived directly, but rose again to watch them, its
curiosity being greatly excited.
"Won't come ashore and attack us, will it?" said Mike.
"No fear. I daresay it would bite, though, if we had it in a corner,
and it couldn't pass. Look! one must have come ashore there."
He pointed to a smooth channel in the sand, where one of the curious
animals had dragged itself a few feet from the water, going back by
another way, and so forming a kind of half-moon.
"Let it watch us: it don't matter," said Mike. "Come and have a look at
the packages."
They walked up to the pile of kegs, and Vince took one down, to find
that it was peculiar in shape and hooped with wood.
"Empty," he said; "it's light as can be."
"Try another," said Mike; and Vince put the one he held down, and tried
one after another--at least a dozen.
"The stuff has all run out or evaporated," he said. "Hark here!"
He tapped the end of one with his knuckles, but, instead of giving forth
a hollow sound, the top sounded dead and dull.
"They're not empty," he said, giving one a shake: "they must be packed
full of something light. And I say, Mike, they look as if they couldn't
be many years old."
"That's because the cavern's so clean and dry. Let's look at the
packages. I say, smell this one. There's no mistake about it--cloves!"
Vince nodded, and they tried others, which gave out, some the same
unmistakable odour, others those of cinnamon and nutmeg.
Further examination of some small, heavy, solid packets left little
doubt in the lads' minds that they were dealing with closely folded or
rolled pieces of silk, and they ended their examination by trying to
interpret the brands with which some of the packages were marked.
"One can't be sure without opening them," said Vince eagerly; "but I
feel certain that these are silk, the other packages spice, and the kegs
have got gloves and lace in them. There are two kinds."
"Yes; some are larger than the others. Shall we open a few of them, to
see if they've been destroyed by time?"
"No, not yet," replied Vince thoughtfully. "Let's go and have a look at
that boat sail and the oars. Those oars ought to be old and
worm-eaten--ready to tumble to pieces--and the sail-cloth like so much
tinder!"
Mike nodded, and followed him rather unwillingly; for the keg nearest to
his hand fascinated him, and he longed intensely to force out the head.
It was not many steps to where the boat gear stood and lay, and Vince
began to haul it about after the first glance.
"Look here, Ladle!" he cried; "these things are not so very old. The
canvas is as strong as can be, and it can't be so many years since these
oars were marked with a hot iron."
"Oh, nonsense!" said Mike, who did not like to give up his cherished
ideas; "it's because they're so dry and safe here."
"It isn't," said Vince impetuously; "and look here, at all these
footmarks!"
"Well, what's to prevent them from being just the same after a hundred
years?"
"The wind," cried Vince. "If those marks were old the sand would have
drifted in and covered them over quite smooth, same as the floor was in
our cave before we walked about it. Mike, all these things are quite
new, and haven't been put here long."
"Nonsense! who could have put them?"
"I don't know; but here they are, and if we don't look out some one will
come and catch us. This is a smugglers' cave."
"But there are no smugglers here. Who ever heard of smugglers at the
Crag!"
"I never did; but I'm sure these are smuggled goods."
"Well, I don't know," said Mike. "It seems very queer. The cave can't
be so dangerous to come to, if boats can land cargoes. Old Daygo's all
wrong, then?"
"Of course he is; so are all the people. Every one has told us that the
Black Scraw was a terrible place, and looked as if they thought it was
haunted by all kinds of sea goblins. Let's get away."
"Think we'd better?"
"Yes; I keep expecting to see a boat come round the corner into sight.
I shouldn't like to be here when they did come."
"But it's so disappointing!" cried Mike. "I thought we were going to
have all this to ourselves."
"I don't think I did," said Vince thoughtfully.
"But I don't believe you're right, Cinder. These things can't have been
put here in our time, or we must have known of it. See what a little
place the Crag is."
"Yes, it's small enough, but the Scraw has always been as if it were far
away, and people could come here and do what they liked."
"But they wouldn't be so stupid as to come here and leave things for
nobody," said Mike. "Is there anybody here who would want them?"
"No," replied Vince; "but smugglers might make this a sort of
storehouse, and some bring the things here from France and Holland and
others come and fetch them away. There, come on, and let's get up into
the crack. I don't feel safe. It has regularly spoiled our place,
though, for whoever comes here must know of the other cave."
"Well," said Mike, as they stood by the rope, and he gazed longingly
back at the rich store he was about to leave behind, "I'll come; but I
don't believe you're right."
"You'll soon see that I am, Ladle; for before long all these things will
be taken away--perhaps by the time we come again."
"If it's as you say we shan't be able to come again," replied Mike
rather dolefully; and then, in obedience to an impatient sign from his
companion, he took hold of the rope and climbed slowly up, passing in at
the opening, and being followed by Vince directly after.
Then the rope was drawn up and coiled, and both took a long and envious
look at the cargo that had been landed there at some time or other,
before making their way along the fissure to their own place.
"I don't believe any one would do as we've done, and come along there,"
said Mike, as soon as they were safely back. "Perhaps, if you're right
about that stuff being new, these smuggling people don't, after all,
know of this cave."
"They must have seen it when they were going and coming in their boat,
and would have been sure to land and come in."
"Land where?" said Mike scornfully. "No boat could land here, and
nobody could wade in, on account of the quicksands. But I'm right,
Cinder. These things are awfully old, and they'll be ours after all."
"Very well: we shall see," said Vince. "But I don't feel disposed to
stop here now. Let's get back home."
"Yes," said Mike, with a sigh, "let's get back home;" and, after setting
up a fresh bit of candle, they started for the inner cave, ascended the
slope, and made their way along the black passage to the spot where they
put out and hid their lanthorn.
This done, with the caution taught by the desire to keep their
hiding-place secret, Vince stepped softly on to the opening, and was
about to pass along to the end, but he paused to peer out through the
briars to see if all was right, and the next moment he stood there as if
turned to stone. Mike crept up to him and touched his shoulder, feeling
sure from his companion's fixed attitude that something must be wrong.
The answer to his touch was the extension of Vince's hand, and he
pointed upward and toward the side of the deep rift.
Mike turned his head softly, and gazed in the indicated direction. For
some moments he could see nothing for the briars and ferns; but at last
he bent a trifle more forward, and his fists clenched, for there, upon
one of the stones beside the entrance to their cave, with his hand
shading his eyes, and staring upward apparently at the ridge, was
Carnach junior.
"Spying after us," said Mike to himself; "and he does not know that we
are close to his feet."
CHAPTER SIXTEEN.
SOME DOUBTS ABOUT THE DISCOVERY.
Certainly Lobster did not know how near the two boys were, and he soon
proved it by coming closer, looking down, and then turning to
reconnoitre in another direction.
Vince stared at Mike, and their eyes simultaneously said the same thing:
"He must have been watching us, and seen us come in this direction."
It was evident that he had soon lost the clue in following them,
although, judging from circumstances, he must have tracked them close to
where they were.
They recollected now that they had not exercised their regular caution--
though, even if they had, it is very doubtful whether they would have
detected a spy who crawled after them, for the cover was too thick--and
a feeling of anger troubled both for allowing themselves to be outwitted
by a lout they both held in utter contempt.
They stood watching their spy for nearly a quarter of an hour, and were
able to judge from his actions that he had seen them disappear somewhere
in this direction; and in profound ignorance in this game of hide and
seek that he was having, Carnach scanned the high slope and the ridge,
and the bottom where the stones lay so thickly again and again, ending
by ensconcing himself behind one of them, after plucking some fern
fronds, and putting them on the top of his cap to act as a kind of
screen in case those he sought should come into sight somewhere
overhead.
The two boys hardly dared stir, but at last, with his eyes fixed upon
Carnach to see if he heard their movement, Vince pointed softly back
into the dark passage, and Mike crept away without making the slightest
sound. Then, as soon as he was satisfied of the coast being clear
behind him, Vince began to back away till he felt it safe to turn, and
followed his companion some fifty yards into the darkness, which now
seemed to be quite a refuge to them.
"Where are you?" whispered Vince.
A low cough told him that he was not yet far enough; and, keeping one
hand upon the wall, he followed until he felt himself touched.
"I say," he whispered, "this is nice: smugglers at one end and that
miserable Lobster at the other! What are we to do?"
"I don't know," said Mike dolefully. "He must have seen us go out of
sight, and feels sure that we shall come back again, and he'll wait till
we do."
"No, no; he'll soon get tired."
"Not he," said Mike; "he's just one of those stupid, heavy chaps who
will sit or lie down and wait for us for a week."
"But I want to get home. I'm growing hungry."
"Let's go back and fish, and light a fire and cook it."
"What, for him to smell the frying? He would, as sure as could be. No;
we must wait."
"I say, Cinder," whispered Mike, "what an unlucky day we are having!
Everything seems to go wrong."
"It'll go worse still if you whisper so loud," said Vince; "the sound
runs along the walls here, and gets stronger, I believe, as it goes."
"Well, I can't help it; I feel so wild. I say, couldn't we creep out
without being seen, and get home?"
"Yes, when it's dark; not before."
"But that means waiting here for hours, and I feel as if I can't settle
to anything now. Let's go back down to the cave. The smugglers can't
come to-day. It would be too bad."
"Better wait here and watch till Lobster goes," said Vince; but,
yielding at last to his companion's importunity, he was about to follow
him back, when there was a loud rustling, a heavy thud, and then a
dismal howl.
The Lobster had slipped and fallen into the rift while backing so as to
get a better view of the ridge.
"Oh my! Oh my! Oh, mother! Oh, crikey! Oh my head--my head! Oh, my
arm! Oh, it's broke! And I'm bleeding! Won't nobody come and help
me?"
The above, uttered in a piteous, dismal wail, was too much for Vince's
feelings; and, pushing his companion aside, he was about to hurry to the
lad's help, but Mike seized him by the arm, and at the same moment they
heard Carnach junior jump up and begin stamping about.
"Here, who did this?" he roared. "What fool's been digging stone here
and left this hole o' purpose for any one to fall in? Wish he'd tumbled
in himself, and broke his stoopid old head. Yah! Oh my, how it hurts!"
He stamped about in the hollow, and they heard him kick one of the
stones with his heavy boots in his rage.
"Wish them two had tumbled in 'stead o' me. Oh dear, oh! Here's a mess
I'm in! Making a great hole like this, and never leaving no stuff
outside. Might ha' been deep, and killed a chap. It aren't broke
through," he grumbled, after a pause. "Wonder where they've got to. Oh
dear! oh dear! what a crack on the head! That comes o' going backwards.
Yah!"
This last ejaculation was accompanied by the rattle of stones, as the
great lad evidently kicked another piece that was in his way; and,
feeling now that there was nothing serious in the fall, Vince gave
Mike's hand a squeeze as they stood listening and expecting every moment
to hear the young fisherman say something in the way of surprise as he
saw the dark hole going downward. But they listened in vain,--full of
anxiety, though, for it was like a second blow to find that their secret
place was becoming very plain, known as it evidently was to people at
the sea entrance, and now from the landward side discovered by the
greatest enemy they had.
Vince felt this so strongly that, in spite of the risk of being heard,
he put his lips to Mike's ear and whispered: "This spoils all."
Mike responded in the same way: "I say, what's he doing? Shall I go and
see?"
"No, I will," whispered back Vince.
"Take care."
Vince's answer was a squeeze of the hand. Then, going down upon all
fours, he crept silently and slowly up the slope till he could see the
lad, expecting to find him peering about the mouth of the passage, and
trying to see whether they were there.
But nothing of the kind. There was the young fisherman seated upon a
piece of stone, with the light shining down upon him through the
brambles, busily tying his neckerchief round his head, making it into a
bandage to cover a cut somewhere on the back, and tying it in front over
his forehead. Then, picking up his cap, which lay beside him, he drew
it on over the handkerchief, having most trouble to cover the knot, but
succeeding at last.
Then he stood up and began to examine his hands, which appeared to be
scratched and bleeding; and making Vince start and feel that he was
seen, for the boy turned in the direction of the dark passage and cried
viciously:
"All right, Doctor: I'll let yer have it next time I ketches yer--and
you too, old Squire. Oh my! how it smarts, though! Wonder wherever
they got."
Those last words came like a fillip to Vince's spirits, for he felt now
that there was nothing to mind, as he could not give the Lobster credit
for knowing that they were close at hand and acting his part so as to
make believe he was in ignorance.
Just then a light touch told Vince that Mike had crawled silently up
behind him; and they both crouched there now, in the darkness, watching
the lad, till he suddenly seemed to become impressed by the fact that
the hole went right in underground, and he stood staring in till the two
boys felt that he was looking at them and seeing them plainly.
"Goes right in," he said aloud--"ever so far, p'r'aps. Well, let it. I
aren't going to get myself all wet and muddy. Oh! how it do hurt!"
He raised his hand to the back of his head; but he remained staring in,
the boys hardly daring to breathe, as each doubled his fists, and
prepared for an encounter.
"He must see us," thought Vince; and when he felt most certain, his
heart gave a throb of satisfaction, for a slight movement on the lad's
part brought his face more into the light, and Vince could see that
there was a vague look in the lad's eyes, as if he were thinking; and
then he turned slowly round and began to look about for the best way out
of the trap into which he had fallen, proceeding to drag at the brambles
in one spot where an exit seemed easiest; but a sharp prick or two made
him snatch away his hands with an angry ejaculation, and, looking about
again, he noticed that there was a simpler way out at the end--that used
by the two boys for returning, their entries always now being by a
sudden jump down through the pendent green shoots.
"I'll let 'em have it for this when I do find 'em," grumbled the lad.
"Must ha' gone home'ards some other way." And they could hear him
muttering and grumbling as the twigs and strands rustled where he
passed, till they knew that he was well outside, for they heard him give
a stamp on one of the blocks of granite.
Vince rose silently.
"Come on," he said,--"the brambles will screen us;" and he crept forward
carefully, till he was close to the hole, and then cautiously advanced
his head, to peer upward, raising his hand warningly to Mike, who was
just behind. For the lad had not gone away, but was standing at the
edge with his back to them, and his eyes sheltered, gazing upward at the
ridge.
He remained there watching intently for quite ten minutes without
moving, and then went off out of sight, the only guide to the direction
he took being the rustling of displaced bushes and the musical clink of
a loose block of stone moved by his passing feet.
They did not trust themselves to speak for some time after the last
faint sound had died out, and then they began to discuss the question
whether they could escape unseen.
"Must chance it," said Vince at last. "I'm tired of staying here. Come
on."
Mike was evidently quite as weary, for he showed his agreement by
following at once. They were both cautious in the extreme, going out on
all fours, and then crawling in and out between the blocks of granite--a
pleasant enough task so long as the growth between was whortleberry,
heath or ferns, but as for the most part it was the long thorny strands
of the blackberry, the travelling became more and more painful. At
last, after progressing in this way some three hundred yards, a horribly
thorny strand hooked Vince in the leg of his trousers and skin as well,
with the result that he started to his feet angrily.
"Here, I've had enough of this," he cried. "Hang the old cavern! it
isn't worth the trouble."
"Hist!" exclaimed Mike, seizing him by the leg and pointing straight
away to their right.
Vince dropped forward, with his arms stretched over the nearest block of
grey stone, staring at the object pointed out, and seeing Carnach junior
right up close to the highest part of the ridge.
For a few moments he could not be sure whether the young fisherman was
looking in their direction, or away; from them; but a movement on the
part of the lad set this at rest directly after, and they saw him go
slowly on, helping himself by clutching at the saw-like row of jagged
stones which divided one slope from the other; and, satisfied that they
had not been seen, they recommenced their crawl, till they reached the
cover of a pile of the loose rocks, which were pretty well covered with
growth.
Placing this between them and the lad, now far away upon the ridge, they
made for the cover of the stunted oaks, and there breathed freely.
Mike was the first to speak, and he began just as if his companion had
the moment before made his impatient remarks about the adventure not
being worth the trouble.
"I don't know," he said. "This is the first time we have had any
bother, and I don't see why we should give such a jolly place up just
because that thick-headed old Lobster came watching us."
"Ah! but that isn't all," said Vince. "We can't go down there any more,
on account of the smugglers."
"But I don't believe you are right. Those things looked new, I know;
but they must be as old as old, for if any smuggling had been going on
here we must have seen or heard of it."
"But the sand--the sand! Those footprints must be new."
"I don't see it," said Mike, rather stubbornly. "Because the wind blows
into one cave and drifts the light sand all over, that's no reason why
it should do so in another cave, which may be regularly sheltered."
"It's no good to argue with you," said Vince sourly, for he was weary
and put out. "You can have it your own way, only I tell you this,--
smugglers don't stand any nonsense; they'll shoot at any one who tries
to stop them or find out where they land cargoes, and we should look
nice if they suddenly came upon us."
"People don't come suddenly on you when they've been dead a hundred
years," replied Mike. "Now, just look here: we must do it as if we took
no interest in it, but you ask your father to-night, and I'll ask mine,
whether they ever heard of there being smugglers in the Crag."
"Well, I will," said Vince; "but you must do the same."
"Of course I shall; and we shall find that it must have been an enormous
time ago, and that we've as good a right to those things as anybody, for
they were brought there and then forgotten."
"Well, we shall see," said Vince; and that night, at their late tea, he
started the subject with--
"Have you ever known any smugglers to be here, father?"
"Smugglers? No, Vince," said the Doctor, smiling. "There's nothing
ever made here that would carry duty, for people to want to get it into
England free; and on the other hand, it would not be of any use for
smugglers to bring anything here, for there is no one to buy smuggled
goods, such as they might bring from Holland or France."
Somewhere about the same time Mike approached the question at the old
manor house.
"Smugglers, Mike?" said Sir Francis. "Oh no, my boy, we've never had
smugglers here. The place is too dangerous, and perfectly useless to
such people, for they land contraband goods only where they can find a
good market for them. Now, if you had said pirates, I could tell you
something different."
"Were there ever pirates, then?" cried Mike excitedly. Sir Francis
laughed.
"It's strange," he said, "what interest boys always have taken in
smugglers, pirates, and brigand stories. Why, you're as bad as the
rest, boy! But there, I'm running away from your question. Yes, I
believe there were pirates here at one time; but it is over a hundred
years ago, and they were a crew of low, ruffianly scoundrels, who got
possession of a vessel and lived for years by plundering the outward and
inward bound merchantmen; and being on a fast sailing vessel they always
escaped by running for shore, and from their knowledge of the rocks and
currents they could sail where strangers dared not follow. But the
whole history has been dressed up tremendously, and made romantic. It
was said that they brought supernatural aid to bear in navigating their
craft, and that they would sail right up to the Crag and then become
invisible: people would see them one minute and they'd be gone the
next."
"Hah!" ejaculated Mike, and his father smiled. "All superstitious
nonsense, of course, my boy; but the ignorant people get hold of these
traditions and believe in them. Mr Deane here will soon tell you how
in history molehills got stretched up into mountains."
"Or snowballs grew into historical avalanches," said the tutor.
"Exactly," said Sir Francis. "I fancy, Mike, that those people may have
had a nest here. One of the men--Carnach I think it was--told me that
they had a cave, and only sailed from it at night."
"Did he know where it was, father?"
"I remember now he said it was `sumwers about,' which is rather vague;
but still there are several holes on the west coast which might have
been made habitable; though I have never seen such a cave on the island,
nor even one that could have been serviceable as a store."
Mike winced a little, for he fully expected to hear his father say "Have
you?" But then Sir Francis went off to another subject, and the boy
nursed up his ideas ready for his next meeting with Vince, which was on
the following day.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.
PIRATES OR SMUGGLERS? HOW TO PROVE IT.
"Pirates, Cinder!"
Mike was down at the gate waiting for Vince to come with his roll of
exercises, ready for the morning's work; and as soon as Vince came
within earshot he fired off the word that he had been dreaming about all
night--
"Pirates!"
"Where?" cried Vince, looking sharply round and out to sea.
"Get out! You know what I mean. It's pirates, not smugglers."
Vince stared at him for a few moments, and then burst out laughing.
"Well, you've got it this time," he said, "if you mean the cave."
"And I do," said Mike quietly. "Pirates; and that's some of the plunder
and booty they took from a ship over a hundred years ago. So now whose
will it be?"
"Stop a moment," said Vince, looking preternaturally serious; "let's be
certain who it was. Let me see: there was Paul Jones, and Blackbeard,
and the Buccaneers. What do you say to its having belonged to the
Buccaneers?"
"Ah! you may laugh, but my father said last night that he never knew of
smugglers being on the island, but that there was a story about pirates
having a cave here, and going out in their vessel to plunder the outward
and homeward bound merchantmen."
"Humph!" grunted Vince, with a sceptical look.
"And look here: he said the people had a superstitious belief that the
pirates used to sail towards the Crag, and then disappear."
"What!" cried Vince eagerly.
"Disappear quite suddenly."
"Behind that line of rocks when they sailed into the little cove, Mike?"
"To be sure. Now, then, why don't you laugh and sneer?" cried Mike.
"Does it sound so stupid now?"
"I don't know," said Vince, beginning to be dubious again.
"Then I do," said Mike warmly. "I never knew of such an unbelieving
sort of chap as you are. There's the cave, and there's all the plunder
in it--just such stuff as the pirates would get out of a ship homeward
bound."
"Yes; but why did they leave it there and not sell it?"
"I know," cried Mike excitedly: "because one day they went out and
attacked a ship so as to plunder her, and found out all at once that it
was a man-o'-war; and as soon as the man-o'-war's captain found out that
they were pirates he had all the guns double-shotted, and gave the order
to fire a broadside, and sank the pirate."
"That's the way," said Vince, laughing; "and the pirate captain ran up
the rigging with a hammer and some tin-tacks, and nailed the colours to
the mast."
"Ah! you may laugh," said Mike. "You're disappointed because you didn't
find it out first. There it all is, as plain as plain. The people used
to think the pirate vessel disappeared, because she sailed out of sight
and used to lie in hiding till they wanted to attack another ship.
Well, I shan't say any more about it if you are going to laugh, but
there's the treasure in the cave: we found it; and half's yours and
half's mine. Now then, what did the Doctor say?"
"That he never heard of any smugglers ever being here."
"There!" cried Mike triumphantly.
"He said there was no one here to buy smuggled goods, and nothing here
to smuggle."
"Of course not: the other's the idea, and I vote we go down and properly
examine our treasure after dinner."
"That is curious," said Vince, "about the tradition of the pirate ship
disappearing, because it proves that there is a channel big enough for a
small ship."
"Oh you're beginning to believe, then, now?"
"No, I'm not; for I feel sure those are smuggled goods. But, Mike, we
must get old Joe to lend us his boat, and sail along there ourselves."
"He wouldn't lend it to us."
"Then I know what we'll do--"
"Now, gentlemen, I'm waiting," said a familiar voice.
"All right, Mr Deane; we're coming," cried Mike. "Now, Cinder, what
shall we do?"
"Go and ask the old chap to lend us his boat, and if he won't we'll come
back disappointed."
"And what's the good of that?"
"Slip round another way and borrow her. You and I could manage her,
couldn't we?"
"Why, I could manage her myself."
"Of course you could. We shouldn't hurt the boat; and we could feel our
way in, and see from outside whether it has been a smugglers' place or
no."
"That's it," said Mike; and five minutes after they were working hard
with the tutor, as if they had nothing on their minds.
That afternoon, with the sun brighter and the sea and sky looking bluer
than ever, the two boys were off for their afternoon expedition, making
their way along a rough lane that was very beautiful and very bad. It
was bad from the point of view that the fisher-farmers of the island
looked upon it as a sort of "no man's land," and never favoured it by
spreading donkey-cart loads of pebbles or broken granite to fill up the
holes trodden in by cows in wet weather, or the tracks made by carts
laden with vraick, the sea-weed they collected for manuring their potato
and parsnep fields. Consequently, in bad seasons Vince said it was
"squishy," and Mike that it was "squashy." But in fine summer weather
it was beautiful indeed, for Nature seemed to have made up her mind that
it was nonsense for a roadway to be made there to act like a scar on the
landscape, just to accommodate a few people who wanted to bring up
sea-weed, sand and fish from the shore, and harness donkeys to rough
carts to do the work when they might more easily have done it themselves
by making a rough windlass, such as they had over their wells, and
dragging all they wanted directly up the cliff face to the top--a plan
which would have done in fifty yards what the donkeys had to go round
nearly half a mile to achieve. As to the road being kept up solely
because old Joe Daygo had a cottage down in a notch in the granite walls
overlooking the sea, that seemed to be absurd.
Consequently, Nature went to work regularly every year to do away with
that road, and she set all her children to help. The gorse bushes hung
from the sides, thrusting out their prickly sprays covered with orange
and yellow blossom and encroached all they could; the heather sprouted
and slowly crept here and there, in company with a lovely fine grass
that would have made a lover of smooth lawns frantic with envy. Over
the heath, ling, and furze the dodder wreathed and wove its delicate
tangle, and the thrift raised its lavender heads to nod with
satisfaction at the way in which all the plants and wild shrubs were
doing their work.
But there were two things which left all the rest behind, and did by far
the most to bring the crooked lane back to beauty. They laughed at the
two brionies, black and white; for though they made a glorious show,
with their convolvulus and deeply cut leaves, and sent forth strands of
wonderfully rapid growth to run over the sturdy blackthorn, which
produced such splendid sloes, and then hung down festoons of glossy
leaves into the lane that quite put the more slow-growing ivy to the
blush, still these lovely trailing festoons died back in the winter,
while their rival growths kept on. These rivals were the brambles and
the wild clematis, which grew and grew in friendly emulation, and ended,
in spite of many rebuffs from trampling feet, by shaking hands across
the road; the clematis, not content with that, going farther and
embracing and tangling themselves up till rudely broken apart by the
passers-by--notably by old Joe Daygo, when he went that way home to his
solitary cot, instead of walking, out of sheer awkwardness, across
somebody's field or patch.
"I wish father would buy old Joe's cottage," said Vince, as the two lads
trudged down the lane that afternoon. "We could make it such a lovely
place."
"Yours is right enough," said Mike, pausing in whistling an old French
air a good deal affected by the people.
"Oh yes, and I shouldn't like to leave it; but I always like this bit
down here; the lane is so jolly. Look."
"What at?"
"Two swallow-tail butterflies. Let's have them."
"Shan't. I'm not going to make myself red-hot running after them if
we're going out in the boat. Besides, we haven't got any of your
father's pill boxes to put 'em in. I say, how the things do grow down
here! Look at that fern and the bracken."
"Yes, and the old foxgloves. They are a height!"
"It's so warm and sheltered. What's that?"
They stopped, for there was a quick, rushing sound amongst the herbage.
"Snake," said Vince, after a pause; "and we've no sticks to hunt him
out."
"Down his hole by this time. Come along. What a fellow you are! You
always want to be off after something. Why can't you keep to one
purpose at a time, as Mr Deane says, so as to master it?"
"Hark at old Ladle beginning to lay down the law," cried Vince merrily.
"You're just as bad. I say, shall we stop about here this afternoon?
Look at that gull--how it seems to watch us."
Vince threw back his head to gaze up at the beautiful, white-breasted
bird, which was keeping them company, and sailing about here and there
some twenty feet overhead, watching them all the time.
"Bother the gull!" said Mike. "Let's go on and speak to old Joe about
the boat."
"Oh, very well," said Vince; "but what's the hurry? I hate racing along
when there's so much to see. Here, Ladle: look--look! My! what a
chance for a seine!"
They had just reached a turn in the lane where they could look down at
an embayed portion of the deep blue sea, in which a wide patch was
sparkling and flashing in the most dazzling way, and literally seeming
to boil as if some large volcanic fire were at work below.
"Mackerel," said Vince.
"Pilchards," said Mike.
"'Taint: it's too soon. It's mackerel. What a chance!"
"Have it your own way," said Mike; "but a nice chance! Ha! ha! Why, if
they surrounded them they'd get their nets all torn to pieces. There's
sand all round, but the middle there is full of the worst rocks off the
coast."
"Yes I s'pose it would be rocky," said Vince thoughtfully. "Well, do
come on."
Mike turned upon him to resent the order, feeling that it was nice to be
accused of delaying their progress; but the mirthful look on Vince's
face disarmed him, and after a skirmish and spar to get rid of a little
of their effervescing vitality, consequent upon the stimulating effects
of the glorious air, they broke into a trot and went past a large patch
where a man was busy hoeing away at a grand crop of carrots, destined
for winter food for his soft-eyed cow, tethered close at hand; and soon
after came in sight of a massive, rough chimney-stack of granite,
apparently level with the road. But this latter made a sudden dip down
into a steep hollow, and there stood the comfortable-looking cottage
inhabited by the old fisherman, with its goodly garden, cow-shed, and
many little additions which betokened prosperity.
The door was open, and, quite at home, the boys walked into the half
parlour, half kitchen-like place, with its walls decorated with
fishing-gear and dried fish, with various shells, spars, and minerals,
which the old man called his "koorosseties," some native, but many
obtained from men who had made long voyages in ocean-going ships.
"Hi, Joe! where are you?" cried Vince, hammering on the open door. But
there was not a sound to be heard; and they came out, climbed up the
rocks at the back till they were above the chimneys, and looked round,
expecting to find that he had gone off to the granite-hedged field where
he tethered his cows.
But the two sleek creatures were browsing away, and no one was in sight
but the man, some hundred yards or so distant, hoeing the weeds from his
carrots.
"How tiresome!" said Mike.
"All right: he'll know," cried Vince; and they trotted to where the man
was very slowly freeing his vegetables from intruders.
"Hi, Jemmy Carnach!" shouted the lad, "seen Joe Daygo?"
"Ay,--hour ago," said the man, straightening himself slowly, and passing
one hand behind him to begin softly rubbing his back: "he've gone yonder
to do somethin' to his boat."
"Come on, Mike; we'll cut straight across here and catch him. It's much
nearer."
"Going fishing, young sirs?" said the man.
"Yes, and for a sail."
"If you see that boy o' mine--"
"What, Lobster?" said Vince.
"Eh? lobster?" said the man eagerly. "Ay, if you ketch any, you might
leave us one as you come back. I arn't seen one for a week."
"All right," said Mike, after a merry glance at Vince; "if we get any
we'll leave you one."
"Ay, do, lad," said the man. "Good for them as has to tyle all day. If
you see my boy, tell him I want him. I'm not going to do all the work
and him nothing."
"We'll tell him," said Vince.
"And if he says he won't come, you lick him, mind. Don't you be
feared."
The boys were pretty well out of hearing when the last words were
spoken; and after a sharp trot, along by the side of the cliff where it
was possible, they came to the rugged descent leading to old Daygo's
tiny port.
This time they were not disappointed, for they caught sight of the old
man's cap as he stood below with his back to them, driving a wooden peg
into a crack in the rock with a rounded boulder, ready for hanging up
some article of fishing-gear.
"You ask him," said Mike: "he likes you best."
"All right," said Vince; and, putting his hands to his lips, he shouted
out, "Daygo, ahoy!"
"Ahoy!" cried the old man, without turning his head; and he kept on
thumping away till the boys had reached him, when he slowly turned to
face them, and threw down the great pebble.
Vince was too thorough to hesitate, and he opened the business at once,
in his outspoken way:
"Here, Joe!" he cried; "we want you to lend us your boat to go for a
sail."
"To lend you my boat to go for a sail?" said the old man, nodding his
head softly.
"Yes; and we shan't be very long, because we must be back to tea."
"And you won't be very long, because you must be back to tea?"
"Yes; and we won't trouble you. We can get it out ourselves."
"And you won't trouble me, because you can get it out yourselves?"
"That's right."
"Oh, that's right, is it, Master Vince? That's what you thinks," said
the old fisherman.
"But you'll lend it to us, won't you?"
"Nay, my lad--I won't."
"Why?"
"Why?" said Daygo, beginning to rasp his nose, according to custom, with
his rough forefinger. "He says why? Mebbe you'd lose her."
"No, we wouldn't, Joe."
"Mebbe you'd run her on the rocks."
"Nonsense!--just as if we don't know where the rocks are. Know 'em
nearly as well as you do."
Daygo chuckled.
"Oh, come, Joe, don't be disagreeable. We'll take plenty of care of it,
and pay you what you like."
"Your fathers tell you to come to me?"
"No."
"Thought not. Nay, my lads, I won't lend you my boat, and there's an
end on it. I'm not going to have your two fathers coming to ask me why
I sent you both to the bottom."
"Such stuff!" cried Vince angrily. "Just as if we could come to harm on
a day like this."
"Ah! you don't know, lad; I do. Never can tell when a squall's coming
off the land."
"Well, I do call it disagreeable," said Vince. "Will you take us out?"
"Nay, not to-day."
"Oh, very well. Never mind, but I shan't forget it. Did think you'd
have done that, Joe. Come on, Mike; let's go and get some lines and
fish off the rocks."
"Ay, that's the best game for boys like you," said the old man; and,
stooping down, he picked up the boulder and began to knock again at the
wooden peg without taking any notice of his visitors.
"Come on, Vince," said Mike; and they walked back up the cliff, climbing
slowly, but as soon as they were out of the old man's sight starting off
quickly to gain a clump of rocks, which they placed between them and the
way down. Here they began to climb carefully till they had reached a
spot from whence they could look down upon the little winding channel
leading from the tunnel to Daygo's natural dock.
They could see the old man, too, moving about far below, evidently
fetching something to hang upon the great peg he had finished driving
in; and, after disappearing for a few minutes, he came into sight again,
and they saw him hang the something up--but what, at that distance, they
could not make out.
At the end of a few minutes the old man went down to his boat, stayed
with it another five minutes or so, and then stood looking about him.
"It's no go, Cinder," said Mike, in a disappointed tone; "we shan't get
off to-day, and perhaps it's best. We oughtn't to take his boat."
"Why not? It's only like borrowing anything of a neighbour. He was
sour to-day, or else he'd have lent it."
"But suppose he finds out?"
"Well, then he'll only laugh. You'll see: he'll be off directly."
Mike shook his head as they lay there upon their breasts, with their
heads hidden behind tufts of heather; but Vince was right as to the old
man soon going, for directly after they saw him begin to climb
deliberately up to the level, look cautiously round, and then, bent of
back, trudge slowly off in the direction of his home; while, as soon as
he was well on his way, the boys crept downward till they were at the
foot of the rocks, when Vince cried:
"Now then: lizards!" and began to crawl at a pretty good rate towards
the way down to the natural dock, quite out of sight of the old man if
he had looked back.
The rugged way down was reached, and here they were able to rise erect
and begin to descend in the normal way, Vince starting off rapidly.
"Come on!" he cried; "old Joe will never know. I say, we have
`sarcumwented' him, as he'd call it."
"Yes, it's all very well," said Mike, whose conscience was pricking him,
"but it always seems so precious easy to do what you oughtn't to."
"Pooh!" cried Vince; "this is nothing."
"Some one is sure to say he has seen the boat out."
"Well, I don't care if he does. Joe ought to have lent us the boat; I'm
sure we've done things enough for him. There, don't talk; let's get
her. He might come back for something, and stop us."
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.
A RISKY TRIP.
But the old fisherman did not return, and they took down mast, sail,
oars, and boat-hook, cast the little craft loose, jumped in, and
skilfully sent her along the channel, without startling any mullet this
time. Then the tunnel was reached, passed through, a good thrust or two
given, and the boat glided out over the transparent waves, Mike
thrusting an oar from the stern and sculling her along till they were
well out from the shelter of the rocks, when he drew in his oar and
helped to step the little mast and hoist the sail. In a few minutes
more they were gliding swiftly along, with Vince cautiously holding the
sheet and Mike steering.
"As if we couldn't manage a boat!" cried Vince, laughing. "Starboard a
little, Ladle. Rocks."
Mike knew the sunken rocks, though, as well as he, and carefully gave
them a wide berth; while, as they reached out farther from the land and
caught the full power of the soft south-westerly breeze, the boat
careened over, the water rattled beneath her bows, and away they went,
steering so as to clear the point and get well abreast of the Scraw
before going in to investigate, and try if there was an easy way of
reaching the sheltered rounded cove.
For some time every rock and point was perfectly familiar; they knew
every cavern and rift, and talked and chatted about the days when they
had fished here, gone egging there, and climbed up or descended yonder;
but after a time the rocks began to look strange.
"Good job for us that Joe's place is on the other side of the island,"
said Vince cheerily. "I say, what a game if he saw the boat going
along, and took out his old glass to try and make out what craft it
was?"
"But he isn't this side," said Mike. "I say, think there are any rocks
out here?--because I don't know them."
"I don't think there can be," said Vince. "Remember coming out here
with your father a year ago?"
"Yes," said Mike; "but we were half a mile farther out, because he said
something about the current."
"Well, of course I don't know," said Vince; "but the water looks smooth
and deep. We should soon see it working and boiling up if there were
any rough rocks at the bottom."
"Or near the top," said Mike thoughtfully. "Now, look: oughtn't we to
be seeing the ridge over the Scraw by this time?"
"Not yet," replied Vince, who was carefully scanning the coast now.
"We've only just passed the point; and it must be yonder, farther
along."
They both scanned the cliffs very carefully, but they all looked much
the same--grey, forbidding, and grand, as they towered up from the
water, nowhere showing a place where any one could land.
"I say," cried Vince suddenly, "we're going along at a pretty good rate,
aren't we?"
"Yes, I was thinking so. Too fast: take in a bit of canvas."
Vince did not speak for a few moments, but gazed from the sail to the
surface of the smooth sea and back again two or three times.
"'Tisn't the sail that carries us along so," he said at last; "she only
just fills, and hardly pulls at the sheet at all. Ladle, old chap,
we're in a current that's carding us along at a tremendous rate."
Mike looked at him in alarm, but Vince went on coolly.
"There's nothing to mind, so long as we keep a sharp look-out for rocks.
The old boat would crush up like an egg if she went on one now. Here,
Ladle, quick! Look there!"
"What at?"
"The rocks. I mean the cliffs. Ah! port! port!--quick."
Mike obeyed, and none too soon, for as Vince was calling his attention
to the shape of the cliffs ashore, a rough, sharp pinnacle of rock rose
some ten feet out of the water just in front, with others to right and
left, and the boat just cleared the principal danger by gliding through
a narrow opening and then racing on upon the other side.
Here they found rock after rock standing out, some as much as twenty
feet, whitened by the sea-birds, while others were just level with the
surface and washed by foam.
The way was literally strewn with dangers, and prudence suggested
lowering the sail; but prudence was wrong--quick sailing was the only
way to safety, so that they might have speed enough to insure good
steering in the rapid current.
"We must keep on going," said Vince, "or we shall be on the rocks, as
sure as we live. I say, can you keep an eye on the shore?"
"No: I'm obliged to mind the rocks ahead. You look."
"I can't," said Vince; "it's impossible, with all these shoals about.
Look out! here's quite a whirlpool. Port a little more--port!"
The eddy they had to pass was caused by a couple of rocks close to the
surface; and in avoiding these they went stern over another, which
appeared to rise suddenly out of the clear sea, and was so close that
the wonder to them was that they did not touch it. But the little boat
drew very little water, and probably they were a few inches above it as
they glided on into deep water again.
"That was a close shave," cried Vince. "I say, it's impossible to try
and find the way in there while we have to dodge in and out here."
"Think there would be less current closer in?" said Mike.
"No, I don't. Look for yourself: it's rushing along, and there are
twice as many rocks. I say, Ladle, we had better get out of this as
soon as we can."
Mike said nothing, but he evidently agreed, and sat there steering with
his oar over the stern, his teeth set and his brow knit, gazing straight
ahead for the many dangers by which they had to pass, before, to their
great relief, the last seemed to be past, and they had time to turn
their attention toward the shore.
"It's easy enough now," said Vince. "Why, that's North Point, and the
Scraw must be half a mile behind!"
The current was now setting right in, as if to cross the most northern
point of the island; and knowing from old experience that it was
possible to get into a return current close beneath the north cliffs,
they steered in, and, the breeze freshening a little, they gradually
glided out of the swift race which had been bearing them along, and in a
few minutes were about a hundred yards from the cliffs, in deep water,
and were being carried slowly in the opposite direction--that is, back
towards the place they sought to examine.
"Well, that's right enough," said Vince; "it's a regular backwater, and
just what we wanted. We shall do it this time."
"Think there's any danger?" said Mike.
"Not if it keeps like this," replied Vince. "We'll go on, won't we?"
Mike nodded; and making short tacks, helped by the gentle current which
was running well inside the rocks, about which they could see the tide
surging, they by degrees approached the range of cliffs which they felt
must be the outer boundary of the little cove.
"This is grand," said Vince, as they drew nearer. "Why, it's as easy as
can be, and any one might have done it if they'd thought of coming here.
I say, isn't it deep? This is a regular channel, and I shouldn't be
surprised if it takes us straight to the way in, for it's perfectly
plain that it can't be out there. No boat could get in--big or little."
"Yes, this seems to be right," said Mike. "See any rocks?"
"Only outside, and they keep off the tide. I say, Mike, there ought to
be some good fishing here. I wonder nobody comes."
"Look!" cried Mike; "that is the ridge of rocks we can see across the
cove."
"How do you know?"
"Because it's so covered with cormorants and gulls. Then there ought to
be an opening somewhere a bit farther--"
"Look out, Mike! Starboard!--hard, or we shall be on that great snag."
As he spoke Vince seized the sail and swung it across, so as to send the
boat upon another tack, and as he did so there was a jerk which nearly
threw them overboard, a strange scraping, jarring sensation, and the
boat's head was swung round, and she was borne rapidly along once more
by the current which they had experienced before.
For the fierce race suddenly swept about the rock they had grazed,
catching the boat and treating it as if it had been a cork, leaving the
boys to devote all their energies to steering, to avoid the rocks which
studded their course.
"Just the same game over again," said Vince, "only we're about a hundred
yards nearer in, and the rocks are closer together."
Their experience of half an hour before was being repeated, but with
added perils in the shape of larger rocks, while, to make matters worse,
water was rapidly rising in the boat, one of whose planks had been
started when they struck.
Vince was seaman enough to know what to do, and, warning his companion
to keep a sharp look-out ahead, he took off his jacket, and then dragged
the jersey shirt he wore over his head. Kneeling in the bottom of the
boat, he proceeded to stuff the worsted garment into a jagged hole,
through which the clear water came bubbling up like some spring.
Mike had glanced at the bubbling water once, and shuddered slightly; but
he did not speak then, for there was a great rock right in front,
towards which the boat was rushing, with the sail well-filled, and
having the leeward gunwale low down by the surface.
But Mike did not even wince. The current was racing them along, while
the wind was fresher now, and as the boy pressed down the blade of the
oar he could feel that the boat was fully under his control--that it was
like some great fish of which he was the tail, and that he had only to
give one good stroke with the oar blade to send the prow to right or
left as he willed.
And, as Vince patted and stuffed the woollen jersey as tightly as he
could into the place where the water rushed up, Mike sat fast, till with
a rush they glided by the dangerous rock, and the boy strained his eyes
to catch the next danger.
Nothing was very near, and he spoke.
"Will she sink, Cinder?" he said; and it seemed a long time, in his
terrible anxiety, before his companion spoke.
"No. There's a lot of water in, but if you can look out and steer, I
can hold the sheet and bale."
He handed the sheet to Mike, crept forward, opened the locker in the
bows, and took out an old tin pot kept for the purpose, crept back and
took the sheet again, as he knelt down in the water and began to bale,
scooping it up, and sending it flying over the side, but without seeming
to make much impression.
"Another rock," said Mike.
"All right; you know how to pass it," said Vince, without ceasing his
work, but sending the water flying to leeward; and for the next quarter
of an hour he did not cease--not even turning his head when they went
dangerously near rock after rock.
It was only when, with a deep, catching sigh, Mike said that the current
did not seem so strong, that he looked up and saw that the rocky point
of the island was nearly a couple of miles away.
"Which way shall I steer?" said Mike; and Vince stood up to take in
their position.
"If we go round the point with the tide we shall have to fight against
the wind and the current that sets along the west shore," he said.
"That won't do. We must go back the way we came."
"What, against that mill race?" cried Mike in dismay.
"No: couldn't do it. We must stand out more to sea."
"Out to sea!" cried Mike, aghast: "with the boat filling with water?"
"Well, we can't go the other way. Besides, if we did old Joe would see
us pass by, and there'd be a row."
"Well, he must know. He'll see the hole in the bottom,--if we get
back," Mike muttered to himself. "But, Vince," he cried, "hadn't we
better run ashore somewhere?"
"Yes: where's it to be?" said the boy, with a curious laugh. "Nonsense!
We should only sink her at once. There, I must go on baling. It's the
only thing we can do, Mikey. Turn her head to it, and run right across
the tide. It's getting slacker here. Keep her head well to it. I
won't let her sink."
Mike groaned.
"Hullo!" cried Vince cheerily, "is it hard work?"
There was no reply, but the boat careened over as from the fresh
pressure of the oar the sail caught the full force of the wind, and they
began to run swiftly towards the south-east, right out to sea, but with
the intent of running back after reaching well out to south of the
island.
It seemed like madness, with the boat leaking as she did, but Vince was
right. It was their only chance; and after a few minutes he said, as if
to himself:
"I'm going to do a stupid thing. I ought to hold that sheet in my hand,
but I want both for baling. Be on the look-out, Ladle. Mind you throw
her up in the wind if she goes over too much."
As he spoke he made the sheet fast, rolled up his sleeves, and, taking
the pot in both hands, began to make the water fly over the side.
"I say, Ladle," he cried, "when I'm tired you'll have to take a turn;
but don't she go along splendidly with all this water ballast in her?"
"Yes," said Mike huskily. "Are you getting it down?"
"Yes, a little. Not much; but if you sail her well we shall run in all
right."
"Aren't we going out too far to sea?"
"No; just right. Now, then, don't talk. I want all my breath for
working."
Setting his teeth, the boy baled away, and by slow degrees lowered the
water a good deal; but he could not cease for a moment, for it surged in
through the leak, nor did he dare to push the jersey farther, for fear
of loosening the plank more and making a bigger hole.
This went on for fully half an hour, with the island getting more and
more distant, and Mike twice over asked if it was not time to make for
the shore.
But Vince shook his head, after a glance back at the south point, and
worked away at the baling.
"Now," he said suddenly, "I want to go on, but I'm getting slow. Be
ready to jump into my place and scoop it out. I'll catch hold of the
oar. Ready?"
"Yes."
"Now then."
The exchange was quickly effected, the water sent flying with more
energy, and Vince pressed upon the oar as he rested himself, and sent
the brave little boat faster through the sea.
"You're giving it to her too hard," remonstrated Mike, as the gunwale
went down dangerously near the surface.
"No, I'm not. You hold your tongue and bale," said Vince fiercely.
"Keep it down."
Mike worked as he had never worked before, but he could not get the
water an inch lower than Vince had left it. Still he never slackened
his pace, though he felt sure that it was gaining upon him, and that
before long the boat would begin to sink.
At last he could contain himself no longer, and with a hoarse gasp he
cried:
"It's of no use, Vince; she's going down."
"No, she isn't," said the boy quietly; "and she can't go down if we
pitch out those two big pieces of iron ballast. She'll go over on her
side, and we shall have to hold on if it comes to the worst; but I think
I can send her in, Ladle, if you can keep on baling."
"Yes, I can keep on," said Mike faintly.
"Tell me when you're beat out, and I'll begin again."
Mike nodded.
"But keep on till you're ready to drop, so as to give me all the rest
you can, for my arms feel like bits of wood."
Mike jerked his head again, and the water went on flying out, looking
like a shower of gold in the late afternoon sunshine, till Vince shouted
to his companion, in regular nautical parlance, to stand by with the
sail.
Mike sprang up and loosened the sheet, standing ready to swing the yard
over to the other side. Vince threw the boat up in the wind, the sail
swung over, filled for the other tack, and they both began to breathe
freely as they glided now toward the south point of the island, where a
jutting-up mass of rock, looking dim in the distance, showed where the
archway and tunnel lay which led into old Joe's little natural dock.
"Shall we do it, Cinder?" said Mike faintly, as he made fast the sheet
on the other side.
"Do it?--yes, of course," cried Vince stoutly. "There, my arms are not
so numb and full of pins and needles now. Come here and steer."
"No, I can do a little more," said Mike.
"No, you can't. Obey orders always at sea," cried Vince fiercely; and
the exchange of position was made; but there was a full two inches more
water in the boat, and as Vince began to bale he did so from where he
could at any time seize the pieces of pig iron and tilt them over. In
fact, several times he felt disposed to do so, but shrank from it as
being a last resource, and from dread lest the act should in any way
interfere with the boat's speed.
Over went the water in the sunshine; and as the boy baled, from looking
golden, it by slow degrees grew of an orange tint, and sparkled
gloriously, but a deadly feeling of weakness fixed more and more upon
Vince's arms, and as he toiled he knew that before long he must give up
to his companion once again. But still he kept on, though it was more
and more slowly; and the despair that he had kept to himself was not
quite so terrible, for the south point gradually grew nearer, and he had
the satisfaction of feeling that he could manage a boat at sea, and well
too, for the course they were steering was dead for the tunnel rock,
and, could he keep the boat afloat for another twenty minutes or half an
hour, they would be safe.
"Come and steer now?" said Mike.
"No," was grunted out; and Vince baled away till the pot dropped from
his hands, and he rose and took the oar, pressing it to his chest, and
steering by the weight of his body.
Once more the water flew out faster; but Mike was only making a spurt,
and his arm moved more and more slowly, till, with a groan, he said
feebly:
"I can't do it any longer."
Vince made no reply, but gazed straight before him, seeing the
jutting-up rock as if through a mist, while the water bubbled in through
the leak, and rose, and rose, without an effort being made to lower it
now.
Would she float till they were close in?--would she float till they were
close in?--would she float till they were close in? It was as if some
one kept on saying this in Vince's ears, as they rushed on, with the
rock nearer and nearer, as if coming out of the mist, till it stood out
bright in the setting sunlight, and the mental vapour was dispersed by
the feeling of exultation which surged through the steersman's breast.
For all at once it seemed that safety was within touch; and, turning the
boat head to wind, she glided slowly up to the opening in the rock,
while the sail flapped and the two boys quickly lowered and furled it,
unstepped the mast, and then thrust her in with the boat-hook, reaching
the little dock as if in a dream.
Vince staggered as he stepped out on to the granite stones to make the
boat fast, and Mike was in little better condition; but by degrees the
suffocating sensation which oppressed them grew less painful, and they
slowly and laboriously carried oars, spars and sail up to their place of
stowage. Then Vince returned to the boat, thrust down his hand and drew
out his jersey, Mike taking hold of one end to help him wring it out.
They had neither of them spoken for some time; but at last Vince said:
"We shall have to pay old Joe for the mending of the boat."
"I say, Vince," said Mike, in a low, husky tone, "oughtn't we to be
thinking about something else? It was very near, wasn't it?"
"Yes," said Vince, with a passionate outburst, "I was thinking of
something else;" and he threw himself down upon a huge piece of
wave-worn granite and hid his face on his arm.
Half an hour later, the two lads walked slowly home, feeling as grave
and sober as a couple of old men, knowing as they did that, though the
evening sunshine had been full in their eyes, the shadow of death had
hovered very near.
CHAPTER NINETEEN.
HAVING IT OUT WITH THE ENEMY.
The two boys were very quiet the next morning, on meeting, and their
tutor rubbed his hands with satisfaction twice in the course of their
lesson.
"Now, that is what I like," he said; "and how much happier you must feel
when you have given your minds thoroughly to the work we have in hand!"
That was the only time during the study hours that anything approaching
a smile appeared on Vince's face; but he did cock his eye in a peculiar
way at Mike, only to receive a frown in return.
At last the lessons were over, and the boys went out into the garden,
strolled into the small shrubbery and patch of woodland which helped to
shelter the house from the western gales, and then, marvellous to
relate, instead of running off to get rid of some of their pent-up
vitality, they sat down upon a prostrate tree-trunk, which had been left
for the purpose, and Vince began to rub his shins, bending up and down
in a peculiar seesaw fashion.
"I am stiff and tired this morning as can be," he said.
"Oh! I'm worse," said Mike. "I feel just as if I were going to be ill.
Haven't caught horrible colds through kneeling in the water so long,
have we?"
"Oh no; it's only being tired out from what we did. I say, feel
disposed to have another try to find the way in?"
"No," said Mike shortly: "I wouldn't go through what we did yesterday
for all the smugglers' caves in the world."
"Well, I don't think I would!" said Vince thoughtfully. "I'm sure I
wouldn't. I don't want all the smugglers' caves in the world. But it
was risky! Every time I went to sleep last night I began dreaming that
the boat was sinking from under me, and then I started up, fancying I
must have cried out."
"I got dreaming about it all, too," said Mike, with a shudder. "It was
very horrible!"
They sat thinking for some time, and then Vince tried to rouse himself.
"Come on," he said.
"No; I want to sit still."
"But you might walk half-way home with me."
"No," said Mike; "I feel too tired and dull to stir. Besides, if I come
half-way with you, I shall have as far to walk back as you have to go.
That's doing as much as you do. I'll come with you as far as the
corner."
"Come on, then," said Vince; and they started, after groaning as they
rose. "I feel stiff all over," sighed Vince, "and as if my head
wouldn't go."
They parted at the corner, with the understanding that they were to meet
as usual after dinner, and at the appointed time Vince came along the
roadside to where Mike lay stretched upon the soft turf.
But there was not the slightest disposition shown for any fresh
adventure, and the only idea which found favour with both was that they
should stroll as far as the cliff known to them as Brown Corner, and sit
down to go over the seascape with their eyes, and try and make out their
course on the previous afternoon.
Half an hour later they had reached the edge of the cliff, sat down with
their legs dangling over the side, and searched the sea for the rocks
they had threaded and for signs of the swift current.
But at the end of some minutes Vince only uttered a grunt and threw
himself backward, to lie with his hands under his head.
"I can't make anything of it, Ladle," he said impatiently; "and I'm not
going to bother. It looked horribly dangerous when we were in it
yesterday, but it only seems beautiful to-day."
"Yes," said Mike; "it's because we're so far off, and things are so much
bigger than they look. But it was dangerous enough without having the
boat leak."
"Horribly," said Vince. "I wonder we ever got back. Won't try it
again, then?" he added, after awhile.
"No, I won't," cried Mike, more emphatically than he had spoken that
day.
"Well, I don't think I will, Ladle; only I feel as if I had been
beaten."
"So do I: as sore all over as sore."
"Tchah! I don't mean that kind of beating: beaten when I meant to win
and sail right into the cove in front of the caves. I say, it wasn't
worth taking old Joe's boat for and making a hole in the bottom."
"No; and we haven't said a single word about it yet."
"Felt too tired. I don't care. He'll kick up a row, and say there's
ten times as much damage done to it as there really is, and it's next to
nothing. Five shillings would more than pay for it. I'll pay part:
I've got two-and-fourpence-halfpenny at home; but it's a bother, for I
wanted to send and buy some more fishing tackle. Mine's getting very
old."
"Well, I'll pay all," said Mike. "I've got six shillings saved up."
"No, that won't be fair," said Vince; "I want to pay as near half as I
can."
"Well, but you want to buy some hooks and lines, and I shall use those
as much as I like."
"Of course," said Vince, as Mike followed his example and let himself
sink back on the soft turf, to lie gazing up at the blue sky overhead;
"but it won't be the same. I helped poke the hole in the boat, and I
mean to pay half. I tell you what: we'll pay for the damage together,
and then you'll have enough left to pay for the fishing lines, and I can
use them."
"Well, won't that be just the same?"
"No; of course not," said Vince. "The lines will be yours, and you
won't be able to bounce about, some day when you're in an ill-temper,
and say you were obliged to pay for mending the boat."
"Very well; have it that way," said Mike.
"And we ought to go over and see the old man, and tell him what we did."
"He doesn't want any telling. He has found it out long enough ago.
There was the sail rolled up anyhow, too. I was too much fagged to put
it straight. When shall we go and see him?"
"I dunno. I don't want to move, and I don't want to have to tell him.
He'll be as savage as can be."
The boys lay perfectly still now, without speaking or moving; and the
gulls came up from below, to see what was the meaning of four legs
hanging over the cliff in a row, and then became more puzzled apparently
on finding two bodies lying there at the edge; consequently they sailed
about to and fro, with their grey backs shining as they wheeled round
and gazed inquiringly down, till one, bolder than the rest, alighted
about a dozen yards away.
"Keep your eyes shut, Ladle," said Vince. "Birds are coming to peck 'em
out."
"They'd better not," said Mike.
"I say, couldn't we train some gulls, and harness them to a sort of
chair, and make them fly with us off the cliff? They could do it if
they'd only fly together. I wonder how many it would take."
"Bother the old gulls! Don't talk nonsense. When shall we go and see
the old man?"
"Must do it, I suppose," said Vince. "Yes, we ought to: it's so mean to
sneak out of it, else we might send him the five shillings. I hate
having to go and own to it, but we must, Ladle. Let's take the dose
now."
"Do what?" said Mike lazily.
"Go and take it, just as if it was salts and senna."
"Ugh!"
"Best way, and get it over. We've got to do it, and we may as well have
it done."
"Yes."
"But I say, when are you going to the cave again? Not to-day?"
"No."
"To-morrow?"
"No."
"Next day?"
"Well, p'r'aps. See how I feel."
"Ready?"
"What for?"
"To go and see old Joe Daygo."
"Haven't got the money with me now."
"We'll go and fetch it, and then go to him."
Mike grunted.
"There, it's of no use to hang back, Ladle; we've got it to do, so let's
get it done."
"Yes; you keep on saying we've got it to do, but you don't jump up to go
and do it."
"I'm quite ready," said Vince; "and I'll jump up if you will. Now then,
ready?"
"Don't bother."
"But we must go, Ladle."
"Well, I know that; but I haven't got the money, and it's so far to
fetch it, and I ache all over, and I don't want to see old Joe to-day,
and--"
"There, you're shirking the job," interrupted Vince.
"No, I'm not, for I want to get it over."
"Then don't stop smelling the stuff; hold your nose, tip it up, and you
shall have a bit of sugar to eat after it if you're a good boy."
"Oh, Cinder, how I should like to punch your head!"
"No, you wouldn't. Come on and take your physic."
"I won't till I like. So there."
"`Cowardy, cowardy, custard, Ate his father's mustard,'" said Vince. "I
say, I don't see that there was anything cowardly in eating his father's
mustard. It was plucky. See how hot it must have been; but I suppose
he had plenty of beef and vegetables with it. He must have had,
because, if he hadn't, it would have made him sick."
"What, mustard would?" said Mike, who was quite ready to discuss
anything not relating to the visit to old Daygo.
"Yes; mustard would."
"Nonsense. How do you know?"
"Father says so, and he knows all about those sort of things, including
salts and senna. So now, then, old Ladle, you've got to get up and come
and take your dose."
"Then I shan't take it to-day."
"And have old Joe come to us! Why, it would be disgraceful. You've got
to come."
"Have I?" grumbled Mike; "then I shan't."
"'Day, young gen'lemen!"
Mike leaped to his feet in horror, and Vince pulled himself up in a
sitting position, to stare wonderingly at the old fellow, who had come
silently up over the yielding turf.
"You?" said Mike: "you've come?"
"Nay, I arn't, so don't you two get thinking anything o' the sort. I
won't let you have it to go out alone."
"You--you won't let us have it to go out alone?" faltered Vince.
"That's it, my lad," said the old man.
"Then he hasn't found out yet," thought Vince; and he exchanged glances
with Mike, who looked ready to dash off.
"Why, yer jumped up as if yer thought I was going to pitch yer off the
cliff, Master Ladelle. Been asleep?"
"No, of course not," said Mike; and he looked at Vince, whose lips moved
as if he were saying--"I'm going to tell him now."
"Might just as well have said `yes' to you, though," grumbled Daygo.
"Just as well," assented Vince.
"Nice sort o' condition she's in now. One streak o' board nearly out.
Cost me a good four or five shilling to get it mended, for I can't do it
quite as I should like."
Four or five shillings! Just the amount Vince had thought would be
enough.
"If I'd let you have it," continued the old man, "that wouldn't ha'
happened. But I know: they can't cheat me. I'm a-goin' over to Jemmy
Carnach to have it out with him, and first time I meets the young 'un
I'm going to make him sore. See this here?"
Daygo showed his teeth in a very unpleasant grin, and drew a piece of
tarry rope, about two feet long, from out of his great trousers, the
said piece having had a lodging somewhere about his breast.
"Do you think Lobster--" began Vince.
"Ay, that's it: lobster," said Daygo. "Lobster it is: Jemmy Carnach
would sell himself for lobster, but he arn't a-going to set his pots in
my ground and go out to 'zamine 'em with my boat. I don't wish him no
harm, but it would ha' been a good job if she'd sunk with him and his
young cub. They're no good to the Crag--not a bit. Ay, I wish she'd
sunk wi' 'em, only the boat's useful, and I should ha' had to get
another."
Old Daygo ceased speaking, and after giving the rope a fierce swish
through the air, as if he were hitting at Lobster's back, he put the end
inside the top of his trousers, just beneath his chin, and gradually
worked it down out of sight.
Vince coughed, and he was about to begin, after looking inquiringly at
Mike, who shook his head, and turned it away. But Vince somehow felt as
if it would be better to wait till the whole of the rope had
disappeared, and Daygo had given himself a shake to make it lie
comfortably. Then his lips parted; but the old man checked him by
saying,--
"On'y wait till I meet young Jemmy. I've on'y got to slip my hand in
here, and it's waiting for him. Yes, young gen'lemen, I'm a-going to
make that chap sore as sore as sore."
"No, you're not, Joe," said Vince firmly.
"What? But I just am, my lad. If I don't lay that there piece on to
his back, and make him lie down and holloa, my name arn't Daygo."
"But you are not going to thrash him, Joe," said Vince.
"Who'll stop it?"
"I will," said Vince. "It wasn't Jemmy Carnach and his boy."
"Eh? Oh yes, it was. Lobstering they were arter. I know."
"No, you do not, Joe. They didn't take it."
"What!" cried the old man. "Then who did?"
"Mike Ladelle and I."
"You did!" cried the old man, staring. "Why, I told you I wouldn't let
you have it, and saw you both go home."
"But we didn't go home," said Vince. "We went and hid in the rocks, and
watched till you'd gone away, and then we crept down to the boat and got
her out."
"You did--you two did?" cried the old man; and his hand went into the
top of his trousers.
"Yes," said Vince desperately, "and we had a long sail."
"Well!" growled the old man,--"well! And I thought it was him!"
"We're very sorry we scraped a rock, and made her leak."
"Made her leak!" roared the old man: "why, she's spyled, and I shall
have to get a new boat."
"No, she isn't, Joe: you said it would cost four or five shillings to
mend the hole."
"Eh? Did I?"
"Yes, you did; and Mike and I will give you five shillings to get it
done."
The old man thrust out his great gnarled hand at once for the money.
"We haven't got it here, Joe," said Vince; "but we'll bring it to you
to-night. Eh, Mike?"
"Yes; after tea."
"Honour?"
"Yes: honour."
"Honour bright--gen'leman's honour?"
"Yes," said Vince emphatically.
"Let him say it too," growled Daygo.
"Honour bright, Joe," said Mike.
"Oh, very well, then; I s'pose I must say no more about it," grumbled
the old man; "but I'm disappynted--that I am. I thought it were they
Carnachs, and I'd made up my mind to give it the young 'un and make him
sore. It's such a pity, too. I cut them two feet o' rope off a ring
a-purpose to lay it on to him. I owe him ever so much, and it seemed to
be such a chance."
"Save it for next time, Joe," said Vince, as Mike looked on rather
uneasily, for the old man kept on playing with the end of the rope.
"Eh? Save it for next time?" he said thoughtfully. "Well, I might do
that, for the young 'un's sure to give me a chance, and then it won't be
wasted. Yes, I'll hang it up over the fireplace at home, ready agen
it's wanted. But you two'll bring me that five shilling to-night?"
"Yes, of course."
"Ay, course you will," said the old man slowly.
"There's one thing I likes in a gen'leman. Some chaps says they'll do
something, or as they'll pay yer, and they swear it, and then most times
they don't; but if a gen'leman says he'll do anything, there yer are,
yer knows he'll do it--without a bit of swearing too. But, haw--haw--
haw--haw!"
The boys stared, for the old man burst out into a tremendous roar of
laughter, and kept on lifting one leg and stamping it down.
"Why, what are you laughing at?" said Mike, gaining courage now that the
trouble was so amicably settled.
"What am I laughin' at?" roared the old fellow, stamping again: "why, at
you two! Comes to me and wants to borrow my boat, and boasts and brags
and holloas about as to how you knows everything. We can sail her, says
you; we knows how to manage a boat as well as you do, and, haw, haw,
haw! you helps yourselves and goes out, and brings her back with a hole
in her bottom. Here! where did you go?"
"Oh, along where you took us," said Vince quickly.
"And which rock did you run on?"
"Oh, I don't know what rock it was, only that it was just under water."
"'Course not. Says to me, says you, that you knows all the rocks as
well 's me, and goes and runs her on one on 'em fust time."
"Well, it was an accident, Joe."
"Ay, my lads, it were an accident; but you've got to think yourselves
very lucky as she didn't founder. Did you have to bale?"
"Yes, all the way home, as hard as ever we could go."
"Ay, you would, with a hole in her like that. Well, I arn't got no time
to stand a-talking to you two here; but I just tells you both this: that
there boat, as soon as she's mended and fresh pitched, 'll be a-wearing
a great big padlock at her stem and another at her starn.--I shall be at
home all evening waitin' fer that five shilling."
He gave them both a peculiar wink, stood for a few moments shading his
eyes and looking out to sea, and then, giving his head a solemn shake,
he went off without another word.
"Feel better, Mike?" said Vince, as soon as the old man was out of
hearing.
"Better? Ever so much. I'm glad we've got it over. I say, Cinder,
nothing like tipping off your dose of physic at once."
"But I had to take it," cried Vince. "You wouldn't do your share."
That evening after tea they kept their word. Vince handed Mike his
two-and-fourpence-halfpenny, and Mike gave him the five shillings which
he was to pay.
They found the old man standing outside his cottage, with his old
spy-glass under his arm, waiting for them, and apparently he had been
filling up the time by watching three or four vessels out in the offing.
"Let's have a look, Joe," said Vince, as soon as the business was over
and the money lodged in a pocket, access to which was obtained by the
old man throwing himself to the left nearly off his balance, and
crooking his arm high up till he could get his fingers into the opening.
The telescope was handed rather reluctantly, and Vince focussed it to
suit his sight as he brought it to bear on one of the vessels.
"Brig, isn't she, Joe?" said Vince.
"Ay, my lad; looks like a collier."
"Schooner," said Vince; and then, running the glass along the horizon,
he took a long look at a small, smart-looking vessel in full sail, her
canvas being bright in the evening glow.
"Why, she's a cutter!" said Vince, rather excitedly: "Revenue cutter."
"Nay, nay, my lad, only a yawrt."
"I don't think she is, Joe; I believe it's a king's ship."
"Tchah! what would she be doing yonder?"
"I don't know," said Vince.
"Done with my glass?" growled the old man.
"Directly," replied Vince; and he swept the sea again.
"Hullo!" he said suddenly: "Frenchman."
"Eh? Where?" said Daygo quickly.
"Right away, miles off the North Point."
The old man took the glass, altered the focus again, and took a long,
searching look.
"Bah!" he exclaimed; "that's not a Frenchman, my lads," and he closed
the glass with a smart crack. "I say, lookye here."
He led the way to the door, grinning tremendously, and pointed in to
where, hanging over the fireplace, was the piece of well-tarred rope,
hanging by a loop made of fishing line.
"Ready when wanted--eh?"
The boys laughed and went off soon after towards home.
"Five shillings worse off," said Mike, when they parted for the night;
"but I'm glad we got out of all that so easily.--I say, Cinder!"
"Well?"
"It would have been rather awkward if he'd taken it the other way and
been in a rage."
"Very," said Vince, before whose eyes the two feet of rope seemed to
loom out of the evening gloom.
"And it would have been all your fault."
"Yes," said Vince shortly. "Good-night: I want to get home."
They parted, and as he walked back Vince could not help thinking a good
deal about the previous afternoon's experience, and he shook his head
more than once before beginning to think of the cavern.
CHAPTER TWENTY.
FRESH PULLS FROM THE MAGNET.
A week elapsed; the weather had been stormy, and a western gale had
brought the sea into a furious state, making the waves deluge the huge
western cliffs, and sending the churned-up foam flying over the edge and
inland like dingy balls of snow.
And the boys were kept in by the gale?
Is it likely? The more fiercely the wind blew, the more heavily the
huge Atlantic waves thundered against the cliffs and sent the spray
flying up in showers, the more they were out on the cliffs searching the
dimly seen horizon, watching to see if any ship was in danger.
But it was rare for a ship to be seen anywhere near Cormorant Crag when
a sou'-wester blew. Its rocks and fierce currents were too well known
to the hardy mariner, who shook his head and fought his way outward into
deep water if he could not reach a port, sooner than be anywhere near
that dangerous rock-strewn shore.
Vince and Mike had long known that when the wind was at its highest, and
it was hard work to stand against it, there was little danger in being
near the edge of some perpendicular precipice, and that there, with the
rock-face fully exposed to the gale, and the huge waves rushing in to
leap against the towering masses with a noise like thunder, they could
sit down in comparative shelter, and gaze with feelings akin to awe at
the tumult below.
Why? For the simple reason that, after striking against a high, flat
surface, the swift current of air must go somewhere. It cannot turn
back and meet the winds following it, neither can it dive into the sea.
It can only go upward, and sweeps several feet beyond the edge of the
cliff before it curves over and continues its furious journey over the
land, leaving at the brink a spot that is undisturbed.
These places were favoured always by the boys, who would generally be
the only living creatures visible, the birds having at the first
breaking out of the storm hastened to shelter themselves on the other
side of the island.
"Sea's pretty busy cave-making to-day," said Vince, on one of these
stormy mornings. "I wonder what it's like in the cave in front of our
place."
"All smooth, of course," said Mike. "It's on the other side, and it's
shut-in, so I daresay it doesn't make a bit of difference there. I say,
oughtn't we to go there again?"
"You want to open some of those packages," said Vince, as he reached his
head a little way over the side of the cliff to gaze down at an enormous
roller that came plunging through the outlying rocks a couple of hundred
feet below. "Well, what of that?"
"Phew! My!" cried Vince, drawing back breathlessly and wiping the
blinding spray from his face. "You can't do that, Ladle. I believe you
might try to jump down there and find you couldn't. The wind would
pitch you up again and throw you over into the fields."
"Shouldn't like to try it," said Mike drily. "But I say, why shouldn't
I want to open the bales and kegs and see what's in them?"
"Because they belong to somebody else, as I told you before."
"If they belong to anybody at all they belong to my father, and he
wouldn't mind my opening them."
"Don't know so much about that," said Vince stolidly. "I'll ask him."
"No, no; don't do that," cried Mike, in alarm; "you'll spoil all the
fun."
"Very well, then: you ask him what he thinks, then we should know."
"There's plenty of time for that. I never did see such a fellow as you
are, Cinder. What's the matter with you?"
"Wet," said Vince. "It was just as if some one with an enormous bucket
had dashed water into my face."
"Then you shouldn't have looked over. You might have known how it would
be. But look here: never mind the sea."
"But I do mind it. Hear that? Oh, what a tremendous thud that wave
came with!"
"Well, of course it did."
"Wonder how many years it will be before the sea washes the Crag all
away."
"What nonsense!"
"It isn't. I was talking to Mr Deane about it the other day, and he
says it is only a question of time."
"What, before the Crag's washed away? I should think it would be. I'll
tell you the proper answer to that--Never."
"Oh, indeed," said Vince: "then how about the caves in under here?
Haven't they all been hollowed out, and aren't they always getting
bigger? That's how those on the other side must have been made. I
shouldn't wonder if they are full of water now."
"What, with all those things in!" said Mike, in alarm. "Oh, I don't
believe that. When shall we go and see?"
"It would be horrible to go across the common on a day like this, and we
should be soaked getting through the ferns and brambles."
"Yes; it wouldn't be nice now. But will you come first fine afternoon?"
"Well, I don't know."
"Oh, I say," cried Mike reproachfully--"you are getting to be a fellow!
You thought the caves grand at first."
"So I did, when we could go there and fish, and cook our tea, and eat
it, and enjoy ourselves like Robinson Crusoe; but when it comes to
finding the other cave and all that stuff there, it makes one
uncomfortable like, and I don't care so much about going."
"Why?"
"I don't know. I can't explain it, but it seems queer, and as if we
ought to tell my father or yours. I felt like you do at first, and it
seemed as if we'd found a treasure and were going to be very rich."
"So we have, and so we are," said Mike. "I don't see why you should
turn cowardly about it."
"I didn't know that it was cowardly to want to be honest," said Vince
quietly.
"Only hark at him!" cried Mike, as the waves came thundering in, and the
wind roared over them. "You are the most obstinate chap that ever was.
Why won't you see things in the right light? Don't those things belong
to my father?"
"I don't know."
"Yes, you do. If they were brought and hidden there a hundred years
ago, and everybody who brought 'em is dead, as they're on father's land,
mustn't they be his?"
"Or the king's."
"The king don't want them, I know. By rights they're my father's, but
he won't mind our doing what we like with them, as we were the finders.
Now then, don't be snobby; will you come first fine afternoon?"
Vince was silent.
"I won't ask you to meddle with anything--only to keep it all quiet."
Vince picked up a stone and threw it from him, so that it should fall
down into the raging billows below, but he made no reply.
"I say, why don't you speak?" cried Mike.
"Who's to talk here in this noise, with the wind blowing your words
away?"
"You could just as easily have said you would come as have said that,"
shouted Mike.
"All right, then, I'll come," said Vince; and Mike gave him a hearty
slap on the back. "But look here, Mikey," he continued, "don't you ever
think about it?"
"About what?"
"The caves, and all that."
"Of course I do: I hardly think of anything else."
"Yes; but I mean about that young Carnach watching us and old Joe
hanging about after us."
"Thought it rather queer once or twice, but of course it was only
because we were so suspicious. If we hadn't had the cave and been
afraid of any one knowing our secret, we might have met them a hundred
times and never thought they were watching us."
"Yes, we might," said Vince thoughtfully. "I don't know, though: they
certainly did watch us."
"Then, if they did, it was because we looked as if we wanted to hide
something."
"Yes, that sounds right," said Vince. "I never looked at it in that
way, and it has bothered me a good deal. Why, of course that is it!
I'm all right now, and I'll go with you whenever you like; only we ought
to tell them soon. We have known it all to ourselves for some time
now."
"Very well, then, we'll tell them soon; and I know my father will say
that all the treasure there is to be divided between us two."
"Will he?" said Vince, laughing, for he was far from taking so sanguine
a view of the case as his companion; and the matter dropped. They
stopped watching the roll and impact of the waves till they were tired,
and then went home to wait for the fair weather, which was to usher in
their next visit to the caves.
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.
THE MYSTERY UNROLLS.
Four more days passed before the weather broke, and then two more when
they were not at liberty. But at last came one when their tutor
announced that they could have the whole day to themselves, and it was
not long before each announced at home that he was off out for a good
long cliff ramble.
This meant taking a supply of provisions, with which each was soon
furnished, so as not to break into the holiday by having to come back to
dinner.
No questions were asked, for it was taken for granted, both at the Mount
and at the Doctor's cottage, that they would be going fishing or
collecting; and the boys set off in high glee, meaning to supplement
their dinner with freshly cooked fish, and plenty of excitement by
climbing about the rocks at the entrance of the caves.
Everything seemed gloriously fresh and bright after the late rains: the
birds were circling overhead, and the sea was of a wonderfully vivid
blue. In fact, so bright was the day that Vince said,--
"I say, isn't it a shame to go and bury ourselves underground?"
"Not a bit of it," cried Mike; "it's glorious! Why, it's a regular
treat, after being away so long. Have you enough wood for cooking?"
"Plenty."
"And what about water?"
"We took a big bottle full last time."
"That's right. I say, keep your eyes open. See anything of old Joe
Daygo? Don't seem to be looking on purpose."
They both kept their eyes well open, but there was no sign of the old
fisherman; and before long the reason why was plain, for on their coming
a little nearer to the cliff edge, on their way to where they struck off
for the oak wood, Vince suddenly pointed outward:--
"There he goes."
"Who?" said Mike.
"Old Joe. He has got his boat mended, then."
"That can't be his boat."
"It is. Why, look at that patch on the sail. It's a long way off, but
I'm sure it's the boat. He's gone out a long way, seemingly."
"Yes: going out to the sands, I suppose, to try if he can't get some
soles."
"Well, we shan't have him playing the spy to-day," said Vince, who was
in capital spirits. "Now, if we could see old Lobster going too, we
should be all right."
"I dare say his father's got him hoeing carrots or something. We shan't
see him."
They did not see Jemmy Carnach's hopeful son, nor any other living being
but a cow, which raised its soft eyes to gaze at them sadly, and
remained looking after them till they plunged into the scrub-wood, and,
once there, felt safe. Then, after their usual laborious work beneath
the trees, they reached the granite wilderness, clambered in and out and
over the great blocks, keeping an eye as much as they could on the ridge
up to their right, in case of the Lobster being there, and finally
reached the opening, jumped down through the brambles, and at once made
for the spot where the lanthorn and tinder-box were stowed.
"I say, isn't it jolly?" cried Mike eagerly. "Just like old times,
getting back here again. What a while it seems!"
"Yes, it does seem a good while," said Vince, beginning to strike a
light. "I hope nothing has happened since we were here."
"Eh?" cried Mike excitedly. "What can have happened?"
"Sea washed the place out, and taken all our kitchen and parlour things
away."
"Nonsense!" said Mike contemptuously. "Oh, it might, you know; there
would have been no waves, but there might have been a high tide. There
must have been tremendously high tides down there at one time, so as to
have washed out those caves."
"Ah! it's a precious long time since they've been washed out, I know,"
said Mike, laughing. "They don't ever get swept out now."
"No, but they're kept neat, with sand on the floor," said Vince,
snapping to the door of the lanthorn and holding it up for the soft
yellow light to shine upon the granite walls. "I say, Mike, don't you
think we're a pair of old stupids to make all this fuss over a hole in
the ground?"
"No: why should we be?"
"Because it doesn't seem any good. Here we take all this trouble hiding
away and going down the hole like worms, so as to crawl about there in
the sand."
"And what about the beautiful caves, and the rocks where we sit and
watch the sea-birds?"
"We could see them just as well off the cliffs."
"But the cove with the great walls of rock all round, and the current
racing round like a whirlpool?"
"Plenty of currents and eddies anywhere off the coast."
"But the fishing?"
"We could fish in easier places," said Vince, talking loudly now they
were well down in the passage. "Why, we've had better luck everywhere
than here."
"Oh, you are a discontented chap!" said Mike. "You ought to think
yourself wonderfully well off, to be able to come down to such a place.
See what jolly feasts we've had down here all alone."
"Yes, but it seems to me sometimes like nonsense to be cooking potatoes
and frying fish down in a cave, when we could sit comfortably at a table
at your house or ours, and have no trouble at all."
"Well, you are a fellow!" cried Mike. "You said one day that the fish
we cooked down there tasted twice as good as it did at home."
"Yes, I did one day when we hadn't got it smoky."
"We don't often get it smoky," protested Mike. "But I say, don't talk
like that. You were as eager to make our little secret place there as I
was. You don't mean to say you're getting tired of it?"
"I don't know," said Vince. "Yes, I do. No, I'm not getting tired of
it yet, for it does seem very jolly, as you say, when we do get down
here all alone, and feel as if we were thousands of miles from
everywhere. But I shall get tired of it some day. I don't think it's
half so good since we found the way into the other cave."
"I do," said Mike. "It's splendid to have made such a discovery, and to
find that once upon a time there were pirates or smugglers here."
Meanwhile they were slowly descending the bed of the ancient underground
rivulet, so familiar with every turn and hollow that they knew exactly
where to place their feet when they reached the little falls, and never
thinking of stopping to examine the pot-holes, where the great rounded
boulders, that had turned and turned by the force of the falling water,
still remained. Vince's light danced about in the darkness like a large
glowworm, and Mike followed it, humming a tune, whistling, or making a
few remarks from time to time; but he was very thoughtful all the same,
as his mind dwelt upon the packages in the far cavern, and he felt the
desire to examine them increase, till he was quite in a state of fever.
"Pretty close, aren't we?" said Mike at last, to break the silence of
the gloomy tunnel.
"Yes, we shall be there in five minutes now. But, I say, suppose we
find that some one has been since we were here?"
"Well, whoever it was, couldn't have taken the caves away."
"No; but if Lobster has found out the way down?--and I dare say he has,
after tumbling into the front hall."
"'Tisn't the front hall," said Mike laughingly; "it's the back door.
Front hall's down by the sea, where the seal cave is."
"Have it which way you like," said Vince, giving the lanthorn a swing,
"but it seems to me most like the back attic window. I say, though, if
Lobster has found it out, he'll have devoured every scrap we left there,
and, I daresay, carried off the fishing tackle and pans."
"A thief! He'd better not," cried Mike.
"Ha--ha--ha!" laughed Vince. "I do call that good."
"What? I don't know what you mean."
"Your calling him a thief for taking away the things he discovered
there."
"Well, so he would be. They're not his."
"No," said Vince, laughing; "and those things in the far cavern aren't
ours, but you want to take them."
"That's different," said Mike hastily. "We only put our things there a
few weeks ago; those bales and barrels have been there perhaps hundreds
of years."
"Say thousands while you're about it, Ladle," cried Vince cheerily.
"Hold hard. _Puff_!"
The candle was blown out through a hole in the lanthorn, and the latter
lowered down to the usual niche close to the cavern wall, where they
were accustomed to keep it.
"Down with you!" cried Vince; and Mike required no second telling, but
glided down the slope so sharply that he rolled over in the sand at the
bottom.
"Below!" shouted Vince; and he charged down after him, sitting on his
heels, and also having his upset. "I say, though, I hope no one has
been."
They walked across the deep, yielding sand, with the soft pearly light
playing on the ceiling; peered through into the outer cave; and then
Mike, who was first, darted back, for there was a loud splash and the
sound as of some one wallowing through the water at the cave mouth.
"Only a seal," cried Vince. "There goes another."
He ran forward over the sand in time to see a third pass out of a low,
dark archway at the right of the place where the clear water was all in
motion from the powerful creatures swimming through.
"I say, Mike, why don't we take the light some day and wade in there to
see how far it goes?" said Vince, as he looked curiously at the doorway
of what was evidently a regular seal's lurking-place.
"Because it's wet and dark; and how do we know that we could wade in
there?"
"Because you can see the rock bottom. It's shallow as shallow."
"And how do you know that it doesn't go down like a wall as soon as you
get in?"
"We could feel our way with a stick, step by step; or, I know, we'd get
the rope--bring a good long one--and I'd fasten it round your waist and
stand at the door and send you in. Of course I'd soon pull you out if
you went down."
"Thank you," cried Mike, "you are kind. My mother said you were such a
nice boy, Cinder, and she was glad I had you for a companion, as the
Crag was so lonely. You are a very nice boy, 'pon my word."
"Yes; I wouldn't let you drown," said Vince.
"Thank ye. I say, Cinder, when you catch me going into a place like
that, just you tell me of it, there's a good fellow."
Vince laughed.
"Why, who knows what's in there?" said Mike, with a shiver.
"Ah! who knows?" said Vince merrily. "I tell you what it is, Ladle:
that must be the place where the things live that old Joe talked about."
"What things?"
"Those that take hold of a boat under water, and pull it along till it
can't come back and is never heard of again."
"Ah, you may grin, Cinder," said Mike seriously; "but, do you know, I
thought all that when we were out yonder in the boat. It felt just as
if some great fish had seized it and was racing it along as hard as it
could, and more than once I fancied we should never get back."
"Did you?" said Vince quietly.
"Yes, you needn't sneer. You're such a wooden-headed, solid chap,
nothing ever shakes you; but it was a very awful sensation."
"I wasn't sneering," said Vince, "because I felt just the same."
"You did?"
"Yes, that I did, and though I wanted to laugh at it because it was
absurd, I couldn't then. But, I say, though, we might try and get to
the end of that cave, just to see how far it goes."
"Ugh! It's bad enough going through a dark hole with a stone floor."
"Till you're used to it. See how we came down this morning."
"Yes, but we weren't wading through cold, black water, with all kinds of
live things waiting to make a grab at you."
"Nonsense! If there were any things there they'd soon scuttle out of
our way."
"Ah, you don't know," said Mike. "In a place like this they grow big
because they're not interfered with. Those were the biggest seals I
ever saw."
"Yes, they were tidy ones. The biggest, I think."
"Yes, and there may be suckers there. Ugh! fancy one of those things
getting one of his eight legs, all over suckers, round you, and trying
to pull you into his hole."
"Take out your knife and cut the arm off. They're not legs."
"I don't know what they are: just as much legs as arms. They walk on
'em. Might be lobsters and crabs, too, as big as we are. Think of one
of them giving you a nip!"
"Wish he would," said Vince, with a grin. "We'd soon have him out and
cook him."
"Couldn't," said Mike. "Take too big a pot."
"Then we'd roast him; and, I say, fancy asking Jemmy Carnach down to
dinner!"
"Yes," cried Mike, joining in the laugh. "He'd eat till his eyes would
look lobstery too, and your father would have to give him such a dose."
"It don't want my father to cure Jemmy Carnach when he's ill," said
Vince scornfully. "I could do that easy enough."
"And how would you do it, old clever?"
"Tie him up for two or three days without anything to eat. Pst! Hear
that?"
"Yes," said Mike, in a whisper, as a peculiar hollow plashing sound
arose some distance down the low dark passage, and the water at the
mouth became disturbed. "Shoal of congers, perhaps--monsters."
"Pooh! It was another seal coming out till it saw or heard us, and then
it gave a wallop and turned back. Look here, I'll wade in this
afternoon if you will."
Mike spun round on his heels. "No, thank you," he cried. "Come on, and
let's look round to see if all's right."
A few minutes proved that everything was precisely as they had left it;
and as soon as they had come to this conclusion, they found themselves
opposite the fissure which led into the other cavern.
Mike glanced at the rope and grapnel, and then back inquiringly at his
companion.
"No!" said Vince, answering the unspoken question that he could plainly
read in Mike's eyes; "we can have a good afternoon without going there."
"How? What are we going to do?"
"Fish," said Vince shortly.
"But I should like to go and see if everything is there just the same as
it was."
"If it has been there for a hundred years, as you say, it's there all
right still. Come on."
"But I should just like to have a peep in one or two of the packages,
Cinder."
"Yes, I know you would; but you promised not to want to meddle, or I
wouldn't have come. Now didn't you?"
"All right," said Mike sulkily; "but I did think you were a fellow who
had more stuff in you. There, you won't do anything adventurous."
"Yes, I will," cried Vince quickly: "I'll get the lanthorn and go and
explore the seal's hole, if you'll come."
"And get bitten to death by the brutes. No, thankye."
"Bitten to death! Just as if we couldn't settle any number of seals
with sticks or conger clubs!"
"Ah, well, you go and settle 'em, and call me when you've done."
"No need to. You wouldn't let me go alone. Now then, we'll get some
fish, and have a good fry."
Vince ran to the wall, where their lines hung upon a peg; and now they
noticed, for the first time, that there had been a high tide during the
late storm, for the sand had been driven up in a ridge at one side of
the cave mouth, but had only come in some twenty or thirty feet.
Their baits, in a box pierced with holes to let the water in and out,
were quite well and lively; and putting some of these in a tray, they
went cautiously out from rock to rock in the wide archway till there was
deep water just beyond for quite another twenty feet; then rocks again,
and beyond them the gurgling rush and hurry of the swift currents, while
the pool before them, though in motion, looked smooth and still, save
that a close inspection showed that the surface was marked with the
lines of a gentle current, which apparently rose from below the rocks on
the right.
It was an ideal place for sea-fishing, for the great deep pool was free
from rocks save those which surrounded it, and not a thread of weed or
wrack to be seen ready to entangle their lines or catch their hooks;
while they knew from old experience that it was the sheltered home of
large shoals, which sought it as a sanctuary from the seals or large
fish which preyed upon them.
In addition, the place they stood upon was a dry, rocky platform, shut
off from the cave by a low ridge, against which they could lean their
backs, whilst another much lower ridge was just in front, as if on
purpose to hide them from the fish in the crystal water of the great
pool.
Partly behind them and away to their right was the entrance to the
seals' hole, from which came a hollow splashing from time to time, as
something moved; every sound making Mike turn his head quickly in that
direction, and bringing a smile to Vince's lips.
"Ah! it's all very well," said Mike sourly, "but everybody isn't so
brave as you are."
"Might as well have lit our fire before we came here," said Vince,
ignoring the remark.
"What's the good of lighting the fire till we know whether we shall get
any fish?" said Mike. "We didn't catch one last time, though you could
see hundreds."
"To boil the kettle and make some tea," replied Vince; and he rose to
get hold of the bait, pausing to look back over the ridge which shut him
off from the cave, and hesitating.
"I think I'll go back and light the fire," he said, as he fixed his eyes
on the dark spot which they made their fireplace, it looking almost
black from the bright spot they occupied, which was as far as they could
get out towards the open cove.
"No, no; sit down," said Mike impatiently. "We didn't catch any last
time because you would keep dancing about on the rocks here, and showing
the fish that you were come on purpose to hook them. We can get a good
fire in a few minutes. There's plenty of wood, and we're in no hurry."
"You mean you kept dancing about," retorted Vince. "Very well," he
added, seating himself, "it shan't be me, Ladle: I won't stir. But it's
the wrong time for them. If we were to come here just before daylight,
or to stop till it was dark, we should be hauling them out as fast as we
could throw in our--our"--_splash_--"lines."
For as Vince spoke he had resumed his seat, deftly placed a lug-worm on
his hook and thrown the lead into the water, where it sank rapidly,
drawing after it the line over the low ridge of rock.
"There," said Vince, as his companion followed his example, "I won't
move, and I won't make a sound."
"Don't," said Mike: "I do want to catch something this time."
"All right: I won't speak if you don't."
"First who speaks pays sixpence," said Mike.
"Agreed. Silence!"
The fishing began, but fishing did not mean catching, and the time went
on with nothing to take their attention but an unusual clamouring on the
part of the sea-birds, which, instead of sitting about preening and
drying their plumage, or with their feathers almost on end, till they
looked like balls as they sat asleep in the sun, kept on rising in
flights, making a loud fluttering whistling as they swept round and
round the cove, constantly passing out of sight before swooping down
again upon the great rocks which shut out the view of the open sea.
Lines were drawn up, rebaited, and thrown in again, with the faint
splashes made by the leads, and they tried close in to the side, to the
other side, to right and left; but all in vain,--the baits were eaten
off, and they felt that something was at their hooks, but whether they
struck directly, or gave plenty of time, it was always the same, nothing
was taken and the hours passed away.
They were performing, though, what was for them quite a feat, for each
boy had fully made up his mind that he would not have to pay that
sixpence. They looked at each other, and laughingly grimaced, and moved
their lips rapidly, as if forming words, and abused the fish silently
for not caring to be caught, but not a word was spoken; till all at
once, after a tremendous display of patience, Vince suddenly struck and
cried:
"Got him at last!"
"Sixpence!" said Mike.
"All right!" said Vince quietly: "I was ready to pay ninepence so as to
say something. I've got him, though, and he's a big one too."
"Be steady, then. Don't lose him, for I'm sick of trying, and I did
want for us to have something for tea."
"Oh, I've hooked him right enough; but he don't stir."
"Bah! Caught in the bottom."
"Oh no, I'm not. He was walking right away with the bait, and when I
struck I felt him give a regular good wallop."
"Then it's a conger, and it's got its tail round a rock."
"May be," said Vince. "Well, congers aren't bad eating."
"B-r-r-ur!" shuddered Mike. "I hate hooking them. Line gets twisted
into such a knot. You may cut it up: I shan't."
"Yes, I'll cut him in chunks and fry him when I get him," said Vince.
"He's coming, but it isn't a conger. Comes up like a flat fish, only
there can't be any here."
"Oh, I don't know," said Mike. "I daresay there's plenty of sand down
below."
"Well, it is a flat fish, and a heavy one too," said Vince, as he hauled
in cautiously, full of excitement, drawing in foot after foot of his
line; and then he cried, with a laugh, "Why, it's a big crab!"
"Then you'll lose it, for certain. 'Tisn't hooked."
"Shall I lose him!" said Vince, with another laugh, as he lifted out his
prize for it to come on to the rock with a bang. "Why, he has got the
line twisted all round his claw, and--Ah! would you bite! I've got him
safe this time, Mike."
Safe enough; for, after the huge claws of the monstrous crab had been
carefully tied with a couple of bits of fishing line, it was quite a
task to disentangle the creature, which, in its eagerness to seize the
bait, had passed the line round and under its curious armoured joints,
and in its struggles to escape, made matters worse.
"This is about the finest we've seen, Mike," said Vince. "Well, I'm
sorry for him, and we'll try and kill him first; but his fate is to be
cooked in his own shell, and delicious he'll be."
"I should like to take him home," said Mike, as he wound up his line.
"So should I; but if either of us did we should be bothered with
questions as to where we got it, and we couldn't say. We shall have to
cook it and eat it ourselves, Ladle. Come on; we don't want any more
fish to-day."
They stepped back over the rocks, and while Mike hung up the lines Vince
thrust his prize into the big creel they had close to the place they
used for their fire, and then hurried towards the inner cave to fetch
the tinder-box and a portion of the wood they had stored up there for
firing, as well as the extra provisions they had brought with them that
day.
"It strikes me, Mikey, that we're going to have a regular feast," said
Vince. "Lucky I caught that fellow!--if I hadn't we should have come
short off."
"Hark at him bragging! I say, why didn't you catch a lobster instead?"
_Phew_! came a soft whistle from the opening into the passage--a whistle
softened by its journey through the subterranean place; but sounding
pretty loudly in their ears, and as if it had been given by some one
half-way through.
"Lobster!" ejaculated Vince excitedly. "Why, there he is coming down."
"Oh, Vince!" cried Mike, "that spoils all. I felt sure he would, after
falling in as he did. He saw the hole, and he is searching it."
"Yes, and he'll come right on, feeling sure we're here."
"What shall we do? I know: frighten him."
"Frighten him? How?"
"Go up and stand at the bottom of one of the steep bits, and when he
comes up, throw stones at him and groan."
"Bah!" ejaculated Vince contemptuously; "that wouldn't frighten him.
He'd know it was us. I say, it's all over with the place now."
"Yes, for he'll tell everybody, and they'll come and find the outer cave
with all the treasure in it."
"Yes, that won't do, Ladle. There's no help for it now; there'll be no
secret caves. You must tell your father to-night, and he'll take proper
possession of the place. If he don't, every one in the island will come
and plunder."
"Yes, that's right," said Mike; "but it's a horrible pity. I am sorry.
But what shall we do now?"
"There's only one thing I can think of now--yes, two things," whispered
Vince: "either go up and stop him, fight for it and not let him come; or
hide."
"Hide?" said Mike dubiously.
"Yes, down here in the sand. It's dark enough. We could cover
ourselves."
"Or go and hide in the other cave," said Mike. "Yes, we'll get the rope
and grapnel, and get up into the great crack, pull the rope up, and we
can watch from there."
"That's it," said Vince. "We only want to gain time till Sir Francis
knows."
"And your father," said Mike. "Fair play's a jewel, Cinder. Look
sharp! Come on!"
They listened in the gloom of the inner cave for a few moments, and then
Mike led the way to the opening between the two caves, passing behind
the rock, and as he did so he turned to whisper to his companion--
"Perhaps he won't find this way through."
Then he stepped on over the deep, soft sand, and was about to pass
through into the outer cavern, when he saw something which made him dart
back, to come heavily in collision with Vince; but not until the latter
had seen that which startled Mike.
For there, standing in the sand, gazing up at the fissure, was a heavy,
thick-set, foreign-looking man, with short black hair, a very brown
skin, and wearing glistening gold earrings, each as far across as a
half-crown piece. The glance taken by the boys was short enough, but
they saw more than that, for they caught sight of a rope hanging down
and a man's legs just appearing.
"_Vite! vite_!" cried the foreign-looking fellow. "_Depechez_; make you
haste, you slow swab you."
There was a growl from above, and something was said, but the boys did
not hear what. They heard the beating of their hearts, though, and a
choking sensation rose to their throats as they stood in the narrow way
between the two caverns, asking themselves the same question--What to
do?
For they were between two fires. The caves were in foreign occupation,
that was plain enough; and the whistle had not come from young Carnach,
but from some one else.
There could be no doubt about it: these were not strangers, but the
smuggling crew come to life again after being dead a hundred years, if
Mike was right; a crew of the present day, come to see about their
stores, if Vince's was the right version.
Whichever it was, they seemed to be quite at home, for a second whistle
came chirruping out of the long passage, as the boys hurried into the
gloomy inner cave for safety, and this was answered by the Frenchman,
who roared:
"Ah, tousan tonderres! Make you cease if I come;" but all the same an
answering whistle came from the outer cave.
What to do? Where to hide? They were hemmed in; and it was evident
that either the party in the long passage was coming down, and might
even now be close to the slope, or the Frenchman and the others were
going to him.
It took little time to grasp all this, and almost as little to decide
what to do. The boys had but the two courses open to them--to face it
out with the foreign-looking man, who seemed to be leader, and his
followers; or to hide.
They felt that they dared not do the former then, and on the impulse of
the moment, and as if one spirit moved them both, they decided to hide--
if they could!
The inner cavern was gloomy enough, and they could only dimly make out
the top of the opening above the slope; all below was deep in shadow,
for the faint pearly light only bathed the roof. But still they felt
sure that if they entered from the upper entrance or from below they
must be seen, unless they did one thing--and that was, carried out the
idea suggested for hiding from young Carnach.
They had no time for hesitation; and any hope of its being still
possible to escape by the upper passage was extinguished by a clinking
noise, as of a big hammer upon stone, coming echoing out of the opening,
suggestive of some novel kind of work going on up there; so, dashing to
the darkest part of the cave--that close down by where the slope came
from above--the boys thrust the lanthorn and tinder-box on one side and
began to scoop away at the deep, loose sand near the wall. Then,
shuffling themselves down something after the fashion of a crab upon the
shore, they cast the sand back over their legs and then over their
breasts and faces, closing their eyes tightly, and finally shuffling
down their arms and hands.
Anywhere else the manoeuvre would have been absurd to a degree; but
there, in the gloom of that cavern, there was just a faint chance of any
one passing up or down the slope without noticing that they were hiding,
while all they could hope for now was that the heavy, dull throb, throb,
of their hearts might not be heard.
Vince had covered his face with sand, but a few laboured breathings
cleared his nostrils, and one of his ears was fully exposed; and as he
lay he longed to do something more to conceal both himself and his
companion; but he dared not stir, for the people in the outer cave were
moving about, and their leader could be heard in broken English cursing
angrily whoever it was that had dared to come down into his cave.
They heard enough to make them lie breathlessly, almost, waiting, while
the moments seemed to be terribly prolonged; and at last Vince found
himself longing for the time to come when they would be discovered, for
he felt that if this terrible suspense were drawn out much longer he
must spring up and shout aloud.
Possibly the two lads did not lie there much more than two minutes, but
they were to Vince like an hour, before he heard the rough, domineering
voice in the outer cavern cry out--
"Now, _mes enfans_, forvard march!" And there was a dull sound
following, as of men's heavily booted feet shuffling and ploughing up
the sand.
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO.
TWO BOYS IN A HOBBLE.
Five men, headed by the heavy fellow who spoke in broken English, passed
silently before the boys through the soft sand, their figures looking
black against the beautiful light which seemed to play on the ceiling of
the place. Then the leader stopped, and he gazed sharply round for a
few minutes, his eyes seeming to rest for some time upon the sand which
the boys had strewed over themselves and burrowed into as far as they
could get.
Vince shivered a little, for he felt that it was all over and that they
must be seen; but just as he had come to the conclusion that the best
thing he could do would be for them to jump up and throw themselves upon
the man's mercy, the great broad-shouldered fellow spoke.
"Dere sall not be any mans here. Let us go up and see vat they do--how
they get on."
Apparently quite at home in the place, he walked to the foot of the
slope, and for the first time saw the rope, and was told that it was not
theirs.
"Aha!" he cried, "it vas time to come here and look. _En avant_!"
He seized the rope, and in spite of his size and weight he went up
skilfully enough, the others following as actively as the boys would
have mounted; and while Vince and Mike lay perspiring beneath the sand,
they heard the next order come from the opening on high.
"Light ze lanthorn," said the Frenchman sharply; and, trembling now lest
the light should betray their hiding-place, the boys lay and listened to
the nicking of the flint and steel, heard the blowing on the tinder, saw
the faint blue gleam of the match, and then the gradually increasing
light, as the wood ignited and the candle began to burn; but throwing
the rays through into the cavern, they passed over the corner where the
boys lay, making it intensely dark by contrast, and they breathed more
freely as the dull sound of the closing lanthorn was heard and the
Frenchman growled out--
"_Vite! vite_! I have to lose no time."
People seemed to be doing something more, far in the passage, which
evoked the sharply spoken words of their leader; but what it was the
boys could not make out, though they heard a strange clinking, as of
pieces of iron being struck together, and then there was a loud clang,
as if a crowbar or marlinspike had fallen upon the stony floor.
"_Ah, bete_ with the head of an _Anglais cochon_--pig! You always have
ze finger butter. Now, _en avant_, go on--_depechez_, make haste."
There was the sound of footsteps, the shuffling over stones, as if the
men were not accustomed to the way; and then the light rapidly grew more
feeble, and finally died out.
"Phew!" sighed Vince, expiring loudly and blowing away the sand which
had trickled about his lips, but not without first more firmly closing
his eyes.
"Hist!" whispered Mike; and then he sputtered a little and whispered the
one word "Sand."
There was no need to say more; the one word expressed his position, and
Vince knew all he suffered, for the sand was trickling inside his jersey
round the neck, and if he had not raised his head a little it would have
been in his eyes, of which he naturally had a horror.
The two boys lay perfectly still in their corner, listening with every
sense upon the strain; and for some little time the movements of the men
could be heard very plainly, every step, every stone that was dislodged
sending its echo whispering along the narrow passage as a voice runs
through a speaking tube.
At last all seemed so still that they took heart to whisper to each
other.
"What shall we do, Cinder?" said Mike.
"I don't know, unless we go through into the other cave."
"What's the good of that?--they'll come back soon and find us."
"Unless we can hide somewhere among the bales, or right up in the back,
where it's dark."
"That might do," said Mike. "But, I say, what have they gone after?"
"To try and find us."
"But they don't know us."
"Well, the people who are using this cave, and they must know of the way
up to the top. Ah! that's it."
"Yes; what?" cried Mike excitedly.
"Hist! don't speak so loudly. They've gone up there to loosen some of
the stones and block the way, so as to put an end to any one coming
down; or else to lay wait and trap us."
Mike drew a long, deep breath; and it sounded like a groan.
"Oh dear!" he said; "whatever shall we do? Perhaps we had better get
through into the other cavern. They'll search this thoroughly, perhaps,
when they come back; but they mayn't search that."
"That's what I thought," said Vince. "Yes, it's the only thing for us
to do, unless we go into the seals' cave and try and hide there."
"Ugh!" said Mike, with a shudder. "Why, it may be horribly deep, and we
should have to swim in ever so far in the darkness before we touched
bottom; and who knows what a seal would do if it was driven to bay?"
"Better have to fight seals than be caught by these men, Ladle," said
Vince. "But we ought to have something to fight the seals with.
There's the big stick in the other cavern, and your knife."
"And yours."
"Yes; there's mine," said Vince thoughtfully. "Ah! of course there's
the conger club with the gaff hook at the end."
"To be sure. But, oh no, we couldn't do that. It would be horrible to
wade or swim into that hole without a light."
"We'd take a light," said Vince.
"Yes, but we'd better try the other cave," said Mike hurriedly. "I feel
sure we could hide in the upper part. Draw a sail over us, perhaps:
they'd never think we should hide in an open place like that, where they
landed."
"Very well, then: come on. Here's the lanthorn and the tinder-box."
Vince secured these from where they lay half buried in the sand; and
then, rising quickly out of their irritating beds, and scattering the
loose fine dry grit back, they hurried into the outer cave, seized the
rope and grapnel, and Mike was swinging it to throw up into the opening,
when his arm dropped to his side, and he stood as if paralysed, looking
wildly at his companion.
For that had occurred upon which they had not for a moment counted.
They had seen the party of men pass them, and it never struck either
that this was not all, till they stood beneath the opening in the act of
throwing the grapnel. Then, plainly heard, came a boisterous laugh,
followed by the murmur of voices.
They looked at each other aghast, as they saw that their escape in that
direction was cut off. There was no seeking refuge among the bales, and
in despair the grapnel was thrown down in its place; while, in full
expectation of seeing more of the smuggler crew come through the
fissure, they were hurrying back to the inner cave, when Vince turned
and caught up the conger club and the heavy oaken cudgel, holding both
out to Mike to take one, and the latter seized the club.
Enemies behind them and enemies in front, they felt almost paralysed by
their despair and dread, half expecting to find the party that had
ascended already back. But on reaching the dark cave all was perfectly
still for a few moments, during which they stood listening.
"Think we could find a better place to hide in here?" said Mike, in a
husky whisper.
"No; they had that lanthorn with them."
"But if we shuffle down in the sand again?"
"It's of no use to try it," said Vince sharply. "Once was enough. We
must try the seal cave."
"Then why did you come in here?" whispered Mike petulantly.
"Because you were afraid to go into that black hole in the dark."
"And so were you," said Mike angrily.
"That's right, Ladle--so I am," whispered Vince coolly; "and that's why
I came in here for the moment, to think whether we could possibly hide."
"Hist! I can hear them coming."
Vince stood listening to the murmur of voices coming out of the opening
above them.
"Ever so far back yet," he whispered; and he dropped upon his knees and
opened the tinder-box and the lanthorn, which he had placed before him
on the sand.
"No, no; don't do that," protested Mike, who was half wild with alarm.
"Can't help it: we must have a light," said Vince; and the cavern began
to echo strangely with the nicking of the flint and steel.
"Then come in the other cavern," said Mike, as he stood holding the club
and cudgel.
"Don't bother me. Other fellows would hear me there, and the wind blows
in."
And all the time he was nicking away, and in his hurry failing to get a
spark to drop in the tinder.
"Oh! it's all over," said Mike. "They're close here."
"No, they're not. Ah! that's it at last."
For a spark had settled on the charred linen, and was soon blown into a
glow which ignited the brimstone match; but, quick as Vince was in
getting it to burn and light the candle, it seemed to both an
interminable length of time before he could close the door of the
lanthorn and shut the half-burned match in the tinder-box.
This last he was about to hide in a hole he began to scratch in the
sand; but on second thoughts he thrust the flat box, with its rattling
contents, under his jersey, and caught up the lanthorn, which now feebly
lit the cavern.
"Yes," said Vince; "they're pretty close now, for the voices sound very
distinct. Come on."
He turned into the narrow passage to enter the outer cave, and they
stopped short in horror as they stood in the full light there, for a
loud chirruping whistle came suddenly from the fissure before them and
up to the left; and it had hardly ceased echoing when it was answered
from the inner cave behind them, and was followed by a shout, which
sounded as if the men were sliding down the rope and close at hand.
"Not much time to spare," said Vince, in a hurried whisper. "Come on,
Ladle." And, lanthorn in hand, the light invisible as he hurried to the
mouth of the cave, he stepped into the water, and, wading to the low
arch on their right, stooped low and went in, closely followed by Mike;
and, as they passed on, with the lanthorn light showing them the
dripping walls and root of the place, covered with strange-looking
zoophytes, there was a loud flopping, rushing, and splashing, which sent
a wave above their knees, and made Mike stop short and seize his
companion.
"Only a seal. Come on," said Vince; and he pressed forward, with the
water getting deeper instead of more shallow, and a doubt rising in his
mind as to whether they would be able to get in far enough to be safe.
"Hist! Quiet!" he whispered, for the sound of voices came to where they
stood, and Vince felt that if sound was conveyed in one direction it
certainly would be in the other.
"Mustn't say a word, or they'll hear us and be in and fetch us out in no
time. Come on, or they'll see the reflection of the light."
"Can't," whispered back Mike faintly. "I've got my boot down a crack,
wedged in."
Vince seized him sharply by the shoulder, and Mike nearly fell back into
the water; but this acted like a lever, and the boot was wrenched free,
just as another whistle was heard and its answer, both sounding
strangely near.
Quite certain that if they did not get in farther the reflection from
the lanthorn must be seen, Vince waded on, with the water rising from
his knees to his thighs, and then, feeling terribly cold, nearly to his
waist.
"We mustn't go any farther," said Mike in an excited whisper, "or we
shall have to swim."
"Very well, then, we must swim," said Vince, holding the light well up
above the water, and looking anxiously along the dark channel ahead, the
roof not being two feet above their caps.
Deeper still--the water above their waists--but the cavern went nearly
straight on, and Vince was about to open the door and blow out the
light, when Mike caught his arm.
"Don't do that," he whispered: "it would be horrible here, with those
beasts about. There, you can hear one swimming, and we don't know what
else there may be."
"But they'll see the light."
"Well, let them," said Mike desperately. "I'd rather wade out."
"I'll risk it, then," said Vince; and then he drew a breath of relief,
for at the end of a couple of yards the depression along which they had
passed was changing to a gradual rise of the cavern floor, and the water
fell lower and lower, till it was considerably below their waists, and
soon after shallow in the extreme.
They went on with mingled feelings, satisfied that they were getting
where they would not be discovered, and also into shallow water, that
promised soon to rise to dry land; but, on the other hand, they kept
having hints that they were driving back living creatures, which made
known their presence by wallowing splashes, that echoed strangely along
the roof, and made the boys grasp club and cudgel with desperate energy.
To their great joy, now, on looking back they found that they could not
see the daylight shining in from the mouth upon the water, and as, in
consequence, any one gazing into the cave was not likely to see the dim
rays of their lanthorn, the boys paused knee-deep, glad to find that
they need go no farther along the narrow channel--one formed, no doubt,
by the gradual washing away of some vein of soft felspar or steatite.
"Pretty safe now," whispered Vince.
_Plash_!
"Ugh!" ejaculated Mike. "What's that?"
"Seal or some big fish," said Vince: "something we've driven in before
us."
"I don't want to be a coward, Cinder," whispered Mike; "but if it's a
great conger, I don't know what I should do."
"Hit at it," replied Vince. "I should, even if I felt in a regular
squirm. But we needn't mind. The things we've driven up before us are
sure to be in a horrible flurry, and all they'll think about will be of
trying to get away."
"Think so?"
"Why, of course. You don't suppose there are any of the things that old
Joe talked about, do you?"
"No, of course that's nonsense; but the congers may be very big and
fierce, and isn't this the sort of place they would run up?"
"I dunno. S'pose so," said Vince. "They get in holes of the rocks, of
course; but I don't know whether they'd get up such a big, long cave as
this. Wonder how far it goes in? Pst!"
Vince grasped his companion's arm tightly, for they were having a proof
of the wonderful way in which sound was carried along the surface of the
water, especially in a narrow passage such as that in which they had
taken refuge.
For all at once the murmur of voices sounded as if it were approaching
them, and their hearts seemed to stand still, as they believed that they
were being pursued.
But the next minute they knew that the speakers were only standing at
the mouth of the cave and looking in, one of the men apparently
whispering close to them, and with perfect distinctness:--
"Seals," he said. "I came and listened last time I was here, and you
could hear 'em splashing and walloping about in the water. Like to go
on in?"
"No," said another voice. "Get 'em up in a corner and they'll show
fight as savage as can be; and they can bite too."
"Good polt on the head with a club settles them, though, soon enough."
"Ay, but who's to get to hit at 'em, shut up in a hole where you haven't
room to swing your arm? 'sides, they're as quick as lightning, and
they'll come right at you."
"What, attack?"
"Nay, I don't say that: p'r'aps it's on'y trying to get away; but if one
of they slippery things comes between your legs down you must go."
"Think there's any in now?"
"Bound to say there are. They comes and goes, though. Listen: p'r'aps
you'll hear one."
As it happened, just then there was a peculiar splashing and wallowing
sound from some distance farther in, and it ended with an echoing
report, as if one of the animals had given the surface of the water a
heavy blow with its tail.
"No mistake--eh?" said one of the voices.
"Let's get the lanthorn and go in," said one eagerly.
"Nay, you stop wheer you are. Old Jarks is wild enough as it is about
some one being here. If he finds any of us larking about, he'll get
hitting out or shootin', p'r'aps."
"I say," said another voice--all sounding curiously near, and as if
whispering for the two fugitives to hear--"think anybody's been
splitting about the place?"
"I d'know. Mebbe. Wonder it arn't been found out before. My hye! I
never did see old Jarks in such a wax before. Makes him sputter finely
what he does blaze up. I don't b'lieve as he knows then whether he's
speaking French or English."
"Well, don't seem as if we're going to ketch whoever it is."
"What! Don't you be in a hurry about that. If old Jarks makes up his
mind to do a thing, he'll do it."
"Think he'll stop?"
"Stop? Ay, for a month, but what he'll ketch whoever it is. Bound to
say they've been walking off with the silk and lace at a pretty tidy
rate."
"They'll be too artful to come again, p'r'aps."
"Ah! that's what some one said about the mice, but they walked into the
trap at last."
"What'll he do if he does ketch 'em?"
"Well, there, you know what old Jarks is. He never do stand any
nonsense. I should say he'd have a haxiden' with 'em, same as he did
with that French _douane_ chap. Pistol might go off, or he might take
'em aboard and drop 'em--"
_Murmur, murmur, murmur_--and then silence.
The speakers had evidently turned away from the mouth of the seal hole,
and the boys did not hear the end of the sentence.
"Oh!" groaned Mike faintly.
"I say, Ladle, if you make a noise like that they'll hear you, and come
and fetch us out."
"I couldn't help it. How horrid it sounds!"
"Yes," said Vince very softly, "but he has got to catch us yet. Who's
old Jarks? Here, I know: they mean the Frenchman: Jacks--Jacques, don't
you see?"
"Yes, I see," said Mike dismally.
"He's the skipper, of course. French skipper with an English crew.
They must be a nice set. I say, do you feel cold?"
"Cold? I don't feel as if I had any feet at all."
"We must have some exercise," said Vince grimly; and he uttered a faint
chuckling sound. "I say, though, Mike don't be down about it. He's
only a Frenchman, and we're English. We're not going to let him catch
us, are we?"
"It's horrible," said Mike. "Why, he'll kill us!"
"He hasn't caught us yet, I tell you, lad. Look here: we know
everything about the caves now, and we can go anywhere in the dark,
can't we?"
"Yes, I suppose so," said Mike dismally.
"Very well, then; we must wait till it's dark, and then creep out and
make for the way out."
"Is no way out now: it's either stopped up or watched."
"Well, then, we'll get out by the mouth of the smugglers' cave, and
creep up on to the cliffs somewhere."
"Current would wash us away; and if we could get to the cliffs you know
we shouldn't be able to climb up. We're not flies."
"Who said we were? Well, you are a cheerful sort of fellow to be with!"
"I don't want to be miserable, Cinder, old chap, but it does seem as if
we're in a hole now."
"Seem? Why we are in a hole, and a good long one too," said Vince,
laughing softly.
"Ah, I can't see anything to joke about. It's awful--awful! Cinder, we
shall never see home again."
"Bah! A deal you know about it, Ladle. That French chap daren't shoot
us or drown us. He knows he'd be hung if he did."
"And what good would it do us after he had killed us, if he was hung? I
shouldn't mind."
"Well, you are a cheerful old Ladle!" said Vince. "Why don't you cheer
up and make it pleasanter for me?"
"Pleasanter?" said Mike. "Oh!"
"Be quiet, and don't be stupid," said Vince. "Look here: don't forget
all you've read about chaps playing the hero when they are in great
difficulties."
"Who's going to play the hero when he's up to his knees in cold water?"
cried Mike bitterly.
"Well, he has a better chance than if he was up to his neck; same as
that fellow would have a better chance than one who was out of his
depth."
"I say," cried Mike excitedly, "does the tide run up here and fill the
cave?"
"No. It was high water when we came in, wasn't it? We never saw it
more than half-way up the arch. Now look here, Ladle: we're in a mess."
"As if I didn't know!"
"And we've got to get ourselves out of it, because nobody knows anything
about this place or our having come here. Think Lobster will say he has
seen us come this way once? He's sure to hear we're missing and that
they're looking for us."
"I don't suppose he will," said Mike dismally. "If they came this way
they wouldn't find the hole. They'll think we've gone off the cliff and
been drowned. What will they say! what will they say!"
These words touched Vince home, and for a few minutes a peculiar feeling
overcame him; but the boy had too much good British stuff in him to give
way to despair, and he turned angrily upon his companion:
"Look here, Ladle," he said: "if you go on like this I'll punch your
head. No nonsense--I will. I don't believe that French skipper dare
hurt us, but we won't give him the chance to. We can't see a way out of
the hobble yet, but that's nothing. It's a problem, as Mr Deane would
say, and we've got to solve it."
"Who can solve problems standing in cold water? My legs are swelling
already, same as Jemmy Carnach's did when he was swept out in his boat
and nearly swamped, and didn't get back for three days."
"You're right," said Vince. "I can't think with my feet so cold. Let's
get into a dry place."
"What, go out?"
"No," said Vince; "we'll go in."
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.
A STRANGE NIGHT'S LODGING.
Mike shrank from attempting to penetrate farther into the narrow hole;
but Vince's determination was contagious, and, in obedience to a jog of
the elbow, he followed his companion, as, with the lanthorn held high
enough for him to look under, the cudgel in his right-hand, he began to
wade on, finding that the passage twisted about a little, very much as
the tunnel formed by the stream did--of course following the vein of
mineral which had once existed, and had gradually decayed away.
To their great delight, the water, at the end of fifty yards or so, was
decidedly shallower; the walls, which had been almost covered with sea
anemones, dotted like lumps of reddish green and drab jelly, only showed
here, in company with live shells, a few inches above the water, which
now, as they waded on, kept for a little distance of the same depth, and
then suddenly widened out.
Vince stopped there, and held up the lanthorn, to see the darkness
spread all around and the light gleaming from the water, which had
spread into a good-sized pool.
"Mind!" cried Mike excitedly: "there's something coming."
He turned to hurry back, but Vince stood firm, with his cudgel raised;
and the force of example acted upon Mike, who turned towards him,
grasping the conger bat firmly, as the light showed some large creature
swimming, attracted by the light.
But the boys did not read it in that way. Their interpretation was that
the creature was coming to attack them; and, waiting till it was within
reach, Vince suddenly leaned forward and struck at it with all his
might.
The blow only fell upon the water, making a sharp splash; for the lad's
movement threw the lanthorn forward, and the sudden dart towards the
animal of a glaring object was enough. The creature made the water
surge and eddy as it struck it with its powerful tail, and went off with
a tremendous rush, raising a wave as it went, and sending a great ring
around to the sides of the expanded cavern, the noise of the water
lapping against the walls being plainly heard.
This incident startled, but at the same time encouraged the lads, for it
gave them a feeling of confidence in their own power; but as soon as
they recommenced their advance, there was another shock,--something
struck against Vince's leg, and in spite of his effort at self-command
he uttered a cry.
There was no real cause for alarm, though; and they grasped the fact
that the blow was struck by one of a shoal of large fish, or congers,
making a rush to escape the enemies who had invaded their solitude, and
in the flurry one of them had struck against the first object in its
way. "I'm sure they were congers," whispered Mike. "I felt one of them
seem to twist round me."
"Never mind: they're gone," replied Vince. "Come on. I fancy there
must be a rocky shore farther on, as it's so shallow here, and it's all
sand under foot."
"Not all: I've put my feet on rock several times," whispered Mike.
"Well, that doesn't matter. There's plenty of sand. Look out!"
There was a tremendous splashing in front, and the water came surging by
them, while they noticed now that the sides of the place were once more
closing in as they advanced.
"Shall we go back?" said Vince; for the sudden disturbance in front,
evidently the action of large animals, or fish, had acted as a check to
him as well as his companion.
Mike was silent for a few moments. Then he said hoarsely: "I'll stick
to you, Cinder, and do what you do."
"Then come on," said the boy, who felt a little ashamed of his feeling
of dread.
"Can't be sharks, can it?" whispered Mike, as, in addition to the
lapping and sucking noises made by the water, there was a peculiar
rustling and panting.
"Sharks, in a cave like this? No. They're seals, I'm sure, four or
five of them, and they've backed away from us till they've got to the
end. Hark! Don't you hear? There is a sort of shore there, and they
are crawling about."
He waded forward two or three steps, holding up the light as high as he
could; but the feeble rays, half quenched by the thin, dull horn, did
not penetrate the gloom, and at last, as the strange noises went on, the
boy lowered the lanthorn, opened the door, and turned the light in the
direction just before them.
They saw something then, for pairs of eyes gleamed at them out of the
darkness, seen vividly for a moment or two, and disappearing, to gleam
again, like fiery spots, somewhere else.
Mike wanted to ask if they really were seals; but in spite of a brave
effort to be firm, his voice failed him, the surroundings were so
strange, and, standing there in the water, he felt so helpless. Every
word about the horrors of the Black Scraw told to them by old Daygo came
to him with vivid force, and his tongue clove to the roof of his mouth,
and there was a sensation as of something moving the roots of his hair.
Then he started, for Vince closed the lanthorn with a snap and said
hoarsely:--
"Hit hard, Mike. They must go or we must, and I'm growing desperate."
"Go on?" faltered Mike.
"Yes, and hit at the first one you can reach. They're lying about
there, on the dry sand."
His companion's order nerved Mike once more; and, drawing a deep breath,
he whispered "All right," though he felt all wrong.
"Don't swing the club, or you may hit me," said Vince. "Strike down,
and I'll do the same. Now then, both together, and I'll keep the
lanthorn between us. Begin."
They made a rush together through the water, which, after a few steps,
grew rapidly shallow; and then they were out upon soft sand, striking at
the dim-looking objects just revealed to them by the light; and twice
over Vince felt that he had struck something soft, but whether it was
seal or sand he could not tell. Violent strokes had resounded from the
roof of the echoing cavern, as Mike exerted himself to the utmost,
hitting about him wildly in despair, while every few moments there was a
loud splashing. Then Mike fell violently forward on to his face, for
one of the frightened creatures made a dash for the water. The panting,
scuffling, splashing, and wallowing ceased, and Vince held up the light.
"Where are you?" he cried, forgetting the necessity for being silent.
"Here," said Mike, rising into a sitting position on a little bank of
coarse sand, which was composed entirely of broken shells.
"Hurt?"
"Yes;--no. I came down very heavily, though."
"Fall over one of the seals?"
"No, it went between my legs, and I couldn't save myself. Well, we've
won, and I'm glad we know now they were only seals. It was very stupid,
but I got fancying they were goodness knows what horrible creatures."
"So did I," said Vince, with a faint laugh. "Old Joe's water bogies
seemed to be all there, with fiery eyes, and I hit at them in a
desperate way like. I say, you can't help feeling frightened at a time
like this, specially when one of them fastens on you like a dog."
"What!"
"Yes," said Vince quietly, and without a tinge of boasting in his
utterances. "I was whacking about at random, when one came at me, and
made a sort of snip-snap and got hold, and for a bit it wouldn't leave
go; but I whacked away at it as hard as I could, and then it fell
gliding down my leg, and the next moment made another grab at me, but
its head was too far forward, and it only knocked me sidewise. Such a
bang on the thigh: I nearly went down."
"But where are you bitten?" cried Mike excitedly.
"Here," said Vince, laughing, and holding the lanthorn to his side.
"Only my jacket, luckily. Look, it tore a piece right out. What
strength they've got! I felt it worrying at it, wagging its head like a
dog. I say, Mike!"
"Yes."
"I was in a stew. I wasn't sorry when the brute dropped down."
"It's horrible," said Mike.
"Oh, I don't know. I don't feel a bit scared now. I tell you what,
though: it has warmed me up. I'm not cold now. How are you?"
"Hot."
"Then let's have a look round."
Raising the lanthorn, the two prisoners cautiously advanced for about
twenty feet, and then were stopped by solid rock, forming a sharp angle,
where the two walls of the cave met. Their way had been up a slope of
deep, shelly sand, which crushed and crunched beneath their feet, these
sinking deeply at every step. Then the light was held higher, with the
door open; and by degrees they made out that the pool was about fifty or
sixty feet broad, and touched the rock-walls everywhere but out by this
triangular patch of sand, which was wet enough where the seals crawled
out, the hollows here and there showing where one had lain; but up
towards the angle it was quite dry, and the walls were perfectly free
from zoophyte or weed--ample proof that the water never rose to where
they stood.
"Well," said Vince, setting down the lanthorn close to the wall, "we've
won the day, the enemy is turned out of its castle, and the next thing,
I say, is to get off our wet, cold things."
"I can't take matters so coolly as you do," said Mike bitterly. "I was
only thinking of getting away out of this awful place."
"Oh, it isn't so awful now you know the worst of it," said Vince coolly,
though a listener might have thought that there was a little peculiarity
in his tone. "One couldn't help fancying all sorts of horrors, but when
you find there is nothing worse than seals--"
"And horrible congers: I felt them."
"So did I," said Vince; "but I've been thinking since. The congers
wouldn't live in a place where seals were. There'd be fights, and
perhaps the seals would get the best of them."
"But don't I tell you I felt one swim up against me and lash its great
body half round my leg?"
"I believe those were young seals, swimming for their lives to get out
to sea. There, take off your wet things and wring them out. I'm going
to fill my boots with fine sand. It's not cold in here, and I dare say
the things will dry a bit."
"But suppose the seals come back."
"They won't come back while we're here, Ladle--I know that. They're
full of curiosity, but as shy as can be. They can see in the dark,
and--"
"Dark!" cried Mike.
"To be sure. We mustn't go on burning that candle."
"But--"
"Look here, old chap," said Vince quietly: "there are only about two
inches of it left. That wouldn't last long, and I'm sure it's better to
put it out and save it for some particular occasion than to burn it
now."
"But there's just enough to light us to the mouth of this terrible
hole."
"And give ourselves up to old Jarks, as that fellow called him, whose
pistol might go off by accident, or who might take us on board his
vessel and let us fall overboard."
"That was only what the man said," argued Mike petulantly. "If we go
boldly up to this smuggler captain and tell him that we only found out
the caves by accident, and that we haven't touched any of the smuggled
goods--"
"Pirates!"
"Smuggled."
"You stuck out it was pirates."
"But I didn't believe it then. Well, if we go to him and say that we
have always kept the place a secret, and that we'll go on doing so, and
swear to it if he likes, he will let us go."
"Go out boldly to him, eh?" said Vince.
"Yes, of course."
"Ah, well, I can't. I don't feel at all bold now. It all went out of
me over the fight with the seals. That one which fastened on my jacket
finished my courage."
"Now you're talking nonsense," said Mike angrily.
"Very well, then, I'll talk sense. If that captain was an Englishman
perhaps we would do as you say; but as he's a Frenchman of bad
character, as he must be, I feel as if we can't trust him. No, Ladle,
old chap, I mean for us to escape, and the only thing we can do now is
to wait till it's dark and then try. We mustn't run any risks of what
Mr Jarks might do. Now then, you do as I've done before I put out the
light."
"You're not going to put out the light."
"Yes, I am."
"I won't have it. It shall burn as long as I like. Besides, you
couldn't light it again."
"Oh yes, I could. I've got the tinder-box, and it has always been too
high up to get wet."
"I don't care," said Mike desperately; "it's too horrible to be here in
the dark."
"Not half so horrible as to be in the dark not knowing that you could
get a light if you wanted to. We could if I put it out. We couldn't if
it was all burned."
"I don't care, I say once more--I say it must not be put out."
"And I say," replied Vince, speaking quite good-humouredly, while his
companion's voice sounded husky, and as if he were in a rage--"and I say
that if you make any more fuss about it I'll put it out now."
As Vince spoke he made a sudden movement, snatched the lanthorn from
where it stood by the wall, and tore open the door.
"Now," he cried, catching up a handful of sand, "you come a step nearer,
and I'll smother the light with this."
Mike had made a dart to seize the lanthorn, but he paused now.
"You coward!" he cried.
"All right: so I am. I've been in a terrible stew to-day several times,
but I'm not such a coward that I'm afraid to put out the light."
Mike turned his back and began to imitate his companion in stripping off
his wet lower garments, wringing them thoroughly, and spreading them on
the dry sand, with which he, too, filled his saturated boots.
Meanwhile Vince was setting him another example--that of raking out a
hole in the softest sand, snuggling down into it and drawing it over him
all round till he was covered.
"Not half such nice sand as it is in our cave, Ladle," he said.
There was no answer.
"I say, Ladle, don't I look like a cock bird sitting on the nest while
the hen goes out for a walk?"
Still there was no reply, and Mike finished his task with his wet
garments.
"Sand's best and softest up here," said Vince, taking out the tinder-box
from the breast of his jersey and placing it by the lanthorn.
Mike said nothing, but went to the spot Vince had pointed out, scraped
himself a hollow, sat down in it quietly, and dragged the sand round.
"Feels drying, like a cool towel, doesn't it?" said Vince, as if there
had been no words between them.
"You can put out the light," said Mike, for answer.
"Hah, yes," replied Vince, taking the lanthorn; "seems a pity, too. But
we shan't hurt here. Old Jarks won't think we're in so snug a spot."
Out went the light, Vince closed and fastened the door, and then,
settling himself in his sandy nest, he said quietly,--
"Now we shall have to wait for hours before we can start. What shall we
do--tell stories?"
Mike made no reply.
"Well, he needn't be so jolly sulky," thought Vince. "I'm sure it's the
best thing to do.--Yes, what's that?"
It was a hand stretched out of the darkness, and feeling for his till it
could close over it in a tight, firm grip.
"I'm so sorry, Cinder, old chap," came in a low, husky voice. "All this
has made me feel half mad."
There was silence then for a few minutes, as the boys sat there in total
darkness, hand clasped in hand. Then Vince spoke.
"I know," he said, in a voice which Mike hardly recognised: "I've been
feeling something like it, only I managed to stamp it down. But you
cheer up, Ladle. You and I ought to be a match for _one_ Frenchman.
We're not beaten. We must wait."
"And starve," said Mike bitterly.
"That we won't. We'll try to get right away, but if we can't we must
get something to eat and drink."
"But how?"
"Find where those fellows keep theirs, and go after it when it's dark.
They won't starve themselves, you may be sure."
Mike tried to withdraw his hand, for fear that Vince should think he was
afraid to be in the dark; but his companion's grasp tightened upon it,
and he said softly,--
"Don't take your fist away, Ladle; it feels like company, and it's
almost as good as a light. I say, don't go to sleep."
"No."
Mike meant to sit and watch and listen for the fancied splash that
indicated the return of the seals. But he was tired by exertion and
excitement, the cavern was warm and dry, the sand was become pleasantly
soft, and all at once he was back in the great garden of the fine old
manor-house amongst the flowers and fruit, unconscious of everything
else till he suddenly opened his eyes to gaze wonderingly at the thick
darkness which closed him in.
Vince had fared the same. Had any one told him that he could sleep
under such circumstances, in the darkness of that water den, the
dwelling-place of animals which had proved to him that they could upon
occasion be desperate and fierce, he would have laughed in his face; but
about the same time as his companion he had lurched over sidewise and
fallen fast asleep.
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR.
GETTING DEEPER IN THE HOLE.
For some moments Mike sat up, gazing straight before him, dazed,
confused, not knowing where he was. Time, space, his life, all seemed
to be gone; and all he could grasp was the fact that he was there.
At last, as his brain would not work to help him, he began to try with
his ringers, feeling for the information he somehow seemed to crave.
He touched the sand, then a hand, and started from it in horror, for he
could not understand why it was there.
By degrees the impression began to dawn upon him that he had been
awakened by some noise, but by what sound he could not tell. He could
only feel that it was a noise of which he ought to be afraid, till
suddenly there was something or somebody splashing or wallowing in the
water.
That was enough. The whole tide of thought rushed through him in an
instant, and, snatching at the hand, he tugged at it and whispered
excitedly,--
"Cinder--Vince!--wake up. They've come back."
"Eh? What's the matter? Come back? What, the smugglers? Don't speak
so loud."
"No, no--the seals. Light the lanthorn. Where did you put the club and
stick?"
"Stop a moment. What's the matter with you? I've only just dropped
asleep. Did you say the seals had come back?"
"Yes: there, don't you hear them?"
"No," said Vince, after a few moments' pause, "I can't hear anything.
Can you?"
"I can't now," said Mike, in a hoarse whisper; "but they woke me by
splashing, and then I roused you."
"Been dreaming, perhaps," said Vince. "I suppose we must have both
dropped asleep for a few minutes. Never mind, we can keep awake better
now, and--Hullo!"
"What is it?"
"Here: look out, Mike--look out!"
There was no time to look out, no means of doing so in the darkness, and
after all no need. Vince had placed his hand upon something hairy and
moist, and let it stay there, as he wondered what it was, till that
which he had felt grasped the fact that the touch was an unaccustomed
one, and a monstrous seal started up, threw out its head and began to
shuffle rapidly away from where it had been asleep. The alarm was taken
by half a dozen more, and by the time the two boys were afoot and had
seized their weapons--_splash, splash, splash_!--the heavy creatures had
plunged back into the pool from which they had crawled to sleep, and by
the whispering and lapping of the water on the walled sides of the cave
the boys knew that the curious beasts were swimming rapidly away towards
the mouth.
"Nice damp sort of bedfellows," said Vince, laughing merrily. "I say,
Mike, I'm all right. I don't know, though--I can't feel my legs very
well. Yes, they're all right."
"What do you mean?" said Mike. "I meant they haven't eaten any part of
you, have they?"
"Don't talk stuff," said Mike, rather pettishly. "How could we be so
foolish as to go to sleep?"
"No foolishness about it," said Vince quietly. "We were tired, and it
was dark, and we dropped off. I say, I'm hungry. Think we've been to
sleep long?"
"I don't know. Perhaps. There's only one way to find out: go to the
mouth of the hole."
"Yes--that's the only way," said Vince; "and now the use of the candle
comes in. I don't know, though: it seems a pity to light the last bit.
Shall we go and see?"
Mike suppressed a shiver of dread, and said firmly,--"Yes."
Another point arose, and that was as to whether they should put on their
clothes again.
It seemed a pity to do so and again get them wet; but both felt
repugnant to attempting to wade back without them, and they began to
feel about, half in dread lest the seals which had visited them in the
night should have chosen their clothes for a sleeping place.
They were, however, just as they had been left, and, to the astonishment
of both, they were nearly dry.
"Why, Mike," cried Vince, "we must have slept for hours and hours."
"We can't. The cave's warm, I suppose, and that accounts for it. How
are your trousers getting on?"
"Oh, right enough, only they're very gritty. Glad to get into them,
though."
In a very short time they were dressed, and it being decided that they
would not return here if it were possible to avoid it, the lanthorn and
tinder-box were taken, and they made up their minds to make the venture
of wading back in the dark.
Mike was rather disposed to fight against it, but he yielded to his
companion's reasoning when he pointed out that before long they would be
able to see the light, and their lanthorn would be superfluous.
Vince rose, and starting with the cudgel outstretched before him, he
stepped down into the water and began to wade.
His first shot for the opening in front proved a failure, for he touched
the wall across the pool, but finding which way it trended he was not
long in reaching the place where it gradually narrowed like a funnel--
their voices helping, for as they spoke in whispers the echoes came back
from closer and closer, the water deepened a little, and then Vince was
able to extend the cudgel and touch the wall on either side.
Once only did he feel that they must have entered some side passage, and
he stopped short with the old feeling of horror coming over him as the
thought suggested the possibility of their wandering away utterly and
hopelessly lost in some fearful labyrinth, where they would struggle
vainly until they dropped down, worn out by their exertions, to perish
in the water through which they waded.
"What's the matter?" said Mike, in a quick, sharp whisper; and Vince
remained silent, not daring to speak, for fear that his companion should
detect his thoughts by the tremor he felt sure that there would be in
his voice.
"Do you hear? Why don't you speak?" said Mike. "Don't play tricks here
in the dark."
"I'm not playing tricks," replied Vince roughly, after making an effort
to overcome his emotion. "I'm leading, and I must think. Are we going
right?"
"You ought to know. I trusted to you," said Mike anxiously, "and you
wouldn't light the candle."
"Yes, it is all right," said Vince; and, mastering the feeling of scare
that had come over him, he passed his hand along the wall, feeling the
slimy cold sea anemones and the peculiar clinging touch of their
tentacles. Then he pressed steadily on, till all at once there was a
faint dawning of light. They turned one of the bends, and the dawn,
became bright rays, which rapidly increased as they softly waded along,
being careful now to speak to each other in whispers, and to disturb the
water as little as possible; till at last there in the front was the low
arch of the cave, framing a patch of sunny rock dotted with grey gulls,
and an exultant sensation filled Vince's breast, making him ready to
shout aloud.
The sensation of delight was checked by feeling Mike's hand suddenly
upon his shoulder tugging him back, and at the same moment he saw the
reason. For there, in the opening, evidently standing up to his
shoulders in water, was some one gazing straight into the narrow cavern,
and Vince felt that they must have been heard and a sentry placed there
to watch for their coming out.
"But it is impossible for him to see us," thought Vince; and he stood
there pondering on what it would be best to do, while a feeling of hope
cheered him with the idea that perhaps after all they had not been
heard, and that it was by mere accident that the man was gazing in.
The next moment he felt again ready to utter an exultant cry, for there
was a sudden movement of the watching head, a dive down, and the water
rose and fell, distinctly seen against the light.
"Bother those old seals!" he said: "they're always doing something to
scare us. I really thought it was a man."
"Looked just like it," said Mike, making a panting sound, as if he had
been holding his breath till he had been nearly suffocated.
"That chap must have been able to see us though we are in the dark.
What wonderful eyes they have!"
"Perhaps the light shines on us a little," replied Mike.
"Very likely; but it's curious what animals can do. I wonder at their
coming and lying down so near us."
"That was because we lay so still, I suppose. But we oughtn't to talk."
"No; come along: but what are we going to do? We shan't be able to
stand in the water very long."
They waded very slowly on, hardly disturbing the surface, and straining
their ears to catch the slightest sound; but the faint roar of the
currents playing among the rocks, and the screams and querulous cries of
the sea-birds which flew to and fro across the mouth of the cavern were
all they could hear.
They were pretty close to the entrance now, but they hesitated to go
farther, and remained very silent and watchful, till a thought suddenly
struck Vince, who placed his lips close to Mike's ear.
"I say," he said, "oughtn't it to be this evening?"
"Of course."
"Then it isn't. It's to-morrow morning."
"Nonsense!"
"Well, I mean it's morning, and we've slept all night."
"Vince!"
"It is, lad. Look--the sun can't have been up very long; and oh, Mike,
what a state they must have been in at home about us!"
Mike uttered a faint groan.
"It's horrid!" continued Vince passionately. "What shall we do?"
Mike was silent for a few minutes, and then said sadly,--"They won't
have slept all night."
"No," said Vince wildly; "and they've been wandering about the place
with people searching for us. Mike, it's of no use, we mustn't try to
hide any longer. That Jarks daren't hurt us, and we had better go out
boldly."
"Think so?"
"Yes. You see, we can't stay here standing in the water, and if we go
back to the sand in there--"
Mike shuddered. "I can't go back there," he said.
"That's just how I feel," said Vince, speaking in a low, excited tone.
"I didn't say much, but I couldn't help being horribly frightened."
"It was enough to scare anybody there in the dark, not knowing what
might happen to us next," sighed Mike. "We can't go back. If we do we
should soon starve. Think we could go to the mouth here and wade out,
and then swim to that opening we saw?"
"No," said Vince decidedly, as he recalled the aspect of the turbulent
cove from where he sat astride the stone; "no man could swim there, and
I don't believe that a small boat could live in those boiling waters."
"Then we must go boldly out," said Mike. "Who's this fellow? He has no
right to come here. Why, my father would punish him severely for daring
to do it!"
"If he could catch him, Ladle, old fellow. But the man knows it, and
that's what frightens me--I mean, makes me fidgety about it. But we
must go."
"There is one chance, though," said Mike eagerly: "he may have taken
fright and gone with all his smuggled stuff."
"Of course he may," said Vince eagerly. "Why, here are we fidgeting
ourselves about nothing. While we've been sleeping in this seal cavern,
he has had his men working away to carry off all that stuff to his ship.
Poor old Ladle! He won't even get enough silk to make his mother a
dress. Well, are you ready?" he continued, with forced gaiety. "I'm
hungry and thirsty, and my poor feet feel like ice."
Mike hesitated.
"We must go," said Vince, changing his tone again. "Mike, old chap,
it's too horrid to think of them at home. Come on."
Mike did not speak, but gave a sharp nod; and, summoning all their
resolution, and trying hard to force themselves to believe that the
smugglers had gone, they waded carefully on, now breathing more freely
as they reached the mouth, with the bright light of morning shining full
in to where they were, and sending a thrill of hope through every fibre
and vein.
They paused, but only for a few minutes; and then, after a sign to Mike,
Vince took another step or two, and leaned forward till he could peer
round the side of the low arch and scan the interior of the outer cave.
Then, slowly drawing back, after a couple of minutes' searching
examination, he spoke to Mike in a whisper.
"There isn't a sign of anybody," he said; "and I can't hear a sound.
Come on, and let's risk it."
Their pulses beat high as, bracing themselves together, they stepped
right from the low archway, moving very cautiously, so as to gaze out as
far as they could command at the cove.
They fully expected to see some good-sized vessel lying there, or at
least a large boat; but there were the sea-birds and the hurrying
waters--nothing more. "They must have gone," whispered Vince. "Unless
they are where we can't see--round by their cave."
"I believe they've gone," said Vince; and they stepped in on to the
soft, loose sand, to find everything belonging to them untouched. Then,
gaining confidence, Mike stepped boldly inward, right up to the
right-hand corner beneath the fissure, and stood listening, but there
was not a sound.
"Right," he whispered, as he stepped back: "they have gone."
But the boy's heart beat faster as he led the way now to the entrance of
the inner cave; for there was the possibility of the passage being
blocked, and, another thing, it was early morning, and the smugglers
might be sleeping still in the soft sand.
Vince whispered his fears, and then, going first, he passed into the
narrow passage without a sound, and stole cautiously along it till he
could crane his head round and look.
For some moments he could see nothing, but by degrees his eyes grew
accustomed to the soft gloom, and the walls and roof and sandy floor
gradually stood out before his eyes, and the next minute, to his great
joy, he could see the rope running up into the dark archway and
disappearing there.
Nothing more: no sound of heavy breathing but his own--no trace of
danger whatever.
He drew back again and placed his lips to his companion's ear.
"It's all right," he whispered; "they must have gone. Shall we step
back and go to the far cave and see?"
"No," said Mike decisively. "Home."
"Yes: home!" said Vince. "Come on."
Leading once more, he stepped into the cavern, whose interior now grew
plainer and plainer to their accustomed eyes, and, crossing at once to
the bottom of the slope, he seized the rope and gave it a sharp tug.
"Will you go first?" he whispered.
"I don't mind," replied Mike. "No,--you;" and Vince tightened the rope
again, feeling that in a very short time they would be able to set the
anxieties of all at rest.
"Father won't be so angry when he knows," thought the boy; and, hanging
there to the rope, he was about half-way up when he let go and dropped
to the sand, for a figure suddenly appeared in the dark opening over his
head, and before he could recover from his astonishment a piercingly
shrill whistle rang through the inner cave.
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE.
TRAPPED BIRDS.
"Quick back to the seal hole!" whispered Vince; and the boys darted to
the dark passage leading to the outer cave, and then stopped short, for
the way was blocked by a man with a drawn cutlass, and two others were
running up, while another was in the act of sliding down a rope from the
fissure.
Directly after, _thud, thud, thud_ came the sound of men dropping down
into the inner cave, and in another moment there was a rude thrust from
behind which drove Mike against Vince, and the two boys were forced
onward through the opening to the outer cave, the man with the cutlass
giving way sufficiently to let them enter, but presenting the point at
Vince's chest, while one of his comrades performed the same menacing act
for Mike, the other two taking up a position to right and left, and
effectually cutting off escape.
The next instant the figure of the big, broad-chested leader came out
into the light, and upon the boys facing round to him his features were
pretty well fixed upon their brains as they noted his smooth,
deeply-lined brown face, black curly hair streaked with grey, dark,
piercing eyes and the pair of large gold earrings in his well-formed
ears. "Aha!" he cried, showing his white teeth, "_bonjour_, _mes amis_.
Good-a-morning, my young friends. I hope you sal have sleep vairy vell
in my hotel. Come along vis me: ze brearkfas is all vaiting."
This address, in a merry, bantering tone, so different from the fierce
burst of abuse which he anticipated, rather took Vince aback; and he was
the more staggered when the man held out his hand naturally enough,
which Vince gripped, Mike doing precisely the same.
"Dat is good, vairy good," said the man, while his followers looked on.
"You vill boze introduce yourself. You are--?"
He looked hard at Mike.
"Michael Ladelle," said the owner of the name.
"And you sall be--?"
"Vincent Burnet."
"Aha, yaas. I introduce myself--Capitaine Jacques Lebrun, at your
sairvice, and ze brearkfas vait. You are vairy moshe ready?"
"Yes," said Vince boldly; "I want my breakfast very badly."
"Aha, yaas; and _votre ami_, he vill vant his. You do not runs avay?"
"Not till after breakfast," said Vince, smiling.
"No? Dat is good. You are von brave. Zen ve vill put avay ze carving
knife and not have out ze pistol. _En avant_! You know ze vay to ze
_salle-a-manger_. You talk ze Francais, bose of you. Aha?"
"I can understand that," said Vince. "So can he. _N'est-ce pas_,
Mike?"
A short nod was given in response, and the French captain clapped them
both on the shoulders, gripping them firmly and urging them along.
"It is good," he said. "I am so _bien aise_ to see my younger friend.
Up vis you!"
"Come along, Mike," said Vince, in a low voice; "it's all right."
Mike did not seem to think so, but he followed Vince up the rope into
the fissure, after one of the armed men; the captain came next, and he
kept on talking in his bantering tone as they crept along the awkward
rift.
"Vairy clever; vairy good!" he cried. "I see you know ze vay. It is
_magnifique_. You see, I find I have visitor, and zey do not know ven
ze _dejeuner_ is _pret_, so I am oblige to make one leetle--vat you call
it--trap-springe, and catch ze leetle bird."
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