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The Birthright

by Joseph Hocking · English · Gutenberg #27591 · 565,592 chars · public domain (US)

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Title: The Birthright

Author: Joseph Hocking


        
Release date: December 22, 2008 [eBook #27591]

Language: English

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/27591

Credits: Produced by Barbara Tozier, Bill Tozier, Martin Pettit and
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BIRTHRIGHT ***




Produced by Barbara Tozier, Bill Tozier, Martin Pettit and
the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
http://www.pgdp.net






THE BIRTHRIGHT

BY

JOSEPH HOCKING

AUTHOR OF "ALL MEN ARE LIARS"


NEW YORK
DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY
1897

COPYRIGHT, 1896, BY JOSEPH HOCKING

BURR PRINTING HOUSE, NEW YORK.

[Illustration: "I MADE A LEAP AT SAM LIDDICOAT."]


CONTENTS.


CHAPTER I
                                                     PAGE
TELLS HOW THE PENNINGTONS LOST PENNINGTON               1


CHAPTER II

TELLS HOW I, JASPER PENNINGTON, TRIED TO GET MY OWN    15


CHAPTER III

HOW I WAS ROBBED OF ELMWATER BARTON; HOW I FLOGGED
THE TRESIDDERS, AND WAS PILLORIED BECAUSE OF IT        28


CHAPTER IV

I ESCAPE FROM THE WHIPPING-POST, AND FIND MY WAY
TO GRANFER FRADDAM'S CAVE                              44


CHAPTER V

I SEE NAOMI PENRYN ON ROCK CALLED THE SPANISH
CAVALIER, AND RESCUE HER--WE ESCAPE FROM THE
TRESIDDERS                                             59


CHAPTER VI

I DISCOVER ANOTHER CAVE, AND HEAR A CONVERSATION
BETWEEN RICHARD TRESIDDER AND HIS SON                  74


CHAPTER VII

I HEAR RICHARD TRESIDDER TELL NAOMI PENRYN'S
HISTORY, AND AM IN DANGER OF BEING KILLED BY
SMUGGLERS                                              87


CHAPTER VIII

I GO TO KYNANCE COVE WITH CAP'N JACK TRUSCOTT'S
GANG, AND MEET HIS DAUGHTER TAMSIN                    100


CHAPTER IX

WHAT HAPPENED AT CAP'N JACK'S HOUSE--TAMSIN'S
CONFESSION, AND THE SMUGGLERS' PLANS                  114


CHAPTER X

WHAT BECAME OF THE WRECKERS' LIGHT--HOW I ESCAPED
AND ENTERED PENNINGTON                                127


CHAPTER XI

I SEE NAOMI PENRYN, AND AM GREATLY ENCOURAGED,
BUT SOON AFTER AM TAKEN PRISONER                      141


CHAPTER XII

HOW MY LOVE SAVED ME--WHEN FREE I GO TO SEA, AND
MONTHS LATER COME BACK TO BETSEY'S COTTAGE AND
HEAR BAD NEWS                                         155


CHAPTER XIII

BETSEY FRADDAM AND CAP'N JACK MEET--I GO TO
FALMOUTH AND MEET NAOMI--AFTERWARD I SEE MR.
JOHN WESLEY                                           170


CHAPTER XIV

I AM TAKEN PRISONER, AND AFTERWARD EXPERIENCE
MANY STRANGE THINGS--I AT LENGTH FIND MYSELF IN
A DUNGEON                                             185


CHAPTER XV

MY EXPERIENCE IN MY PRISON--I AM TOLD TERRIBLE
NEWS ABOUT NAOMI                                      200


CHAPTER XVI

I HEAR A STRANGE NOISE IN MY PRISON--THE SECRET
PASSAGE WHICH I FOUND--A WILD STRUGGLE, AND A
HAIRBREADTH ESCAPE                                    214


CHAPTER XVII

TELLS OF THE MANNER OF MY ESCAPE, OF THE STRANGE
MAN I MET, AND OF ELI'S STORY OF A BURIED TREASURE    228


CHAPTER XVIII

HOW I LEFT BEDRUTHEN STEPS AND, AFTER MEETING
TAMSIN TRUSCOTT, SOUGHT FOR NAOMI                     241


CHAPTER XIX

TELLS HOW I CLIMBED THE WALL OF THE MANOR HOUSE
GARDEN, AND WHAT I SAW                                254


CHAPTER XX

HOW I FELLED A HORSE WITH MY FIST, AND CARRIED
NAOMI SOUTHWARD                                       269


CHAPTER XXI

HOW I TOOK NAOMI TO MULLION PORTH AND THEN STARTED
WITH ELI TO FIND THE TREASURE                         282


CHAPTER XXII

HOW I FOUND THE SECRET OF THE TREASURE, AND WENT
TO THE SCILLY ISLES                                   295


CHAPTER XXIII

HOW WE FOUND THE IRON BOX ON ANNETTE ISLAND, AND
THE TERRIBLE ENDING TO OUR ADVENTURE                  309


CHAPTER XXIV

TELLS OF THE STRANGE REVELATION MADE BY THE MADMAN
OF BEDRUTHEN STEPS, AND OF TAMSIN TRUSCOTT'S
TREACHERY                                             323


CHAPTER XXV

HOW WE WENT TO PENNINGTON, AND HOW THE TRESIDDERS
WON THE VICTORY                                       337


CHAPTER XXVI

TELLS OF MY FORTUNES IN WINNING BACK MY
BIRTHRIGHT, AND FINISHES THE TALE                     351




THE BIRTHRIGHT




CHAPTER I

TELLS HOW THE PENNINGTONS LOST PENNINGTON


I am writing this story at the wish of many friends, who tell me it is
my duty so to do. Certain stories have been afloat, which are anything
but true, and it has been urged upon me again and again to set down in
plain terms the true history of events which have set people's tongues
wagging. I must confess that, in spite of the pleasure I have in
recalling the memories of past years, it is with great diffidence that I
at last commence my work. Not because I have any difficulty in
remembering what took place. My memory, thank God, is as good as ever,
and the principal scenes in my history are as clear to me as if they
happened yesterday. It is not that. The truth is I was never clever at
putting things on paper, and somehow, while the facts are clear enough
in my mind, I feel a great difficulty in relating those facts in a way
that is clear and understandable. You see I have lived an open-air life,
and have spent more hours with the bridle-reins in my hands than the
pen, and although I had a fair amount of schooling I was never
considered a quick learner.

Still, as John Major said to me only yesterday, it seems a duty to
clear up certain matters which are altogether misunderstood, and what is
more, to clear my name from scandal. Moreover, as he truly insisted,
there are others besides myself upon whom clouds rest, and one
especially about whom the truth ought to be told.

"People are saying," asserted John Major, "that the land you call yours
is not yours by right, and that in order to get your will you were in
league with the devil. It is also said that you broke the laws of God
and man in your dealings with your relations, and that Parson Inch
refuses to give you the right hand of fellowship until you can prove in
a fair and straightforward way that you are not the man some take you to
be."

Now I am quite aware that many things have happened to me which happen
to but few men. I know, too, that I have had experiences which, to say
the least of them, are strange, neither am I sure that I can explain
certain matters to Parson Inch's satisfaction. At the same time I am not
afraid of the light, and so I am determined to set down truthfully, to
the best of my ability, the true account of those events in my life
which are misunderstood, so that no stigma shall rest upon those who are
as dear to me as my own heart's blood.

Let it be understood, however, that I make no pretence at fine writing,
neither must it be expected that I, who never boasted great learning,
can explain that which has puzzled Parson Grigg, who was in the parish
before Mr. Inch came--aye, even puzzled the Bishop himself who came to
visit the rectory some years since. All I undertake to do is to put down
in plain, homely words the story of my life, in so far as it affects my
good name and the good name of those who are associated with me. It may
be that I shall have to touch upon matters peculiar to the part of the
country in which I was born and reared, and to which I am proud to
belong. As far as I can I will make them clear; but even concerning
these I will make no great promises.

To begin at the beginning then, for I must do this to make everything
clear, and I desire above everything to make matters plain. My father,
Jasper Pennington, died when I was nineteen, leaving me as I thought
Elmwater Barton, a farm of about three hundred acres. I am called Jasper
too; indeed, for generations back there has always been a Jasper
Pennington. Elmwater Barton is by no means a bad farm. Nearly all the
land is under cultivation, and the house is roomy and substantial. You
must not imagine, however, that the Barton is the principal place in the
parish of St. Eve. Far from it. The parish contains twelve thousand
acres, and is, on the whole, the richest parish in Cornwall, and so
three hundred acres do not count much. Up to the time of my father
living at Elmwater Barton the place had always been held by a family of
yeomen by the name of Quethiock, respectable people, of course, but not
regarded as gentry. No, the principal house in St. Eve is Pennington,
which, when my father died, was owned by Richard Tresidder. My father
was born at Pennington, and my grandfather and great-grandfather were
born there; indeed, the estate, which is a very valuable one, has been
owned by the Penningtons for many generations.

The question, therefore, naturally arises, How did a Tresidder get into
the possession of the estate which has always belonged to the
Penningtons? It is well to explain this because evil tongues have told
lies concerning it.

My father's mother died soon after his birth, when my grandfather was a
comparatively young man; and when my father was about five years old,
his father called him into the library one day, and told him that it was
his intention to give him a mother.

"A mother?" said my father, "you told me my mother was dead."

"Yes, she is," said my grandfather, "and is in heaven if ever it is
possible for a woman to get there; that is why I want to give you
another, Jasper, one who will take care of you better than I can."

"Will she be kind to me?" asked my father.

"That she will," was the reply; "but more than that, she will bring you
a brother, who is about your own age, and he will be a playfellow for
you."

My father was greatly pleased at this, and so he welcomed his new mother
very eagerly, thinking all the time, of course, of his new playfellow.

The lady my grandfather married was a widow. Her husband, Richard
Tresidder, had been a lawyer in Falmouth, but he had died of cholera
about four years after my grandmother died. Her little boy, too, was
called Richard, or Dick, as they named him for short, and in a little
while the two boys became friends.

Now the widow of lawyer Tresidder brought my grandfather no property at
all, not a pennypiece, but she brought a great deal of discord instead.
She was always jealous for her son, and she hated my father. The very
sight of him used to vex her, especially as after several years she did
not bear my grandfather a son. There were three daughters born, but no
son, which greatly disappointed my grandfather, and made his wife
exceedingly bitter toward my father.

As years went by it seemed to be the great purpose of her life to cause
quarrels between the father and son, and at the same time to show up the
excellencies of her own son, Richard Tresidder. I suppose the wisest and
best men are clay in the hands of women; at any rate, such has been my
experience in life, especially if that woman is clever, and has a will
of her own, which latter quality few women are short of. Anyhow, after
many years, she succeeded in setting my grandfather against his only son
Jasper. How she managed it I don't know, for my grandfather always had
the name for being a just man, but then, as I said, what can a man do
when a woman gets hold of him? Just before my father was twenty-one this
widow of Tresidder got her husband to make a new will. She persuaded him
to let her husband's brother be present when Mr. Trefry, the old family
lawyer, was writing the document, and a good many hard words passed even
then.

You see, Mr. Trefry couldn't bear to see my father defrauded, and yet he
had no right to interfere. The upshot was that the will gave my father
the sum of L500, while all the Pennington estates were to be held in
trust for Richard Tresidder. This of course seems very strange, but it
goes to show how a woman can twist a man around her finger when she sets
out to do it. There was a clause in the will, however, which my
grandfather, in spite of James Tresidder, who was also a lawyer, would
have inserted. I think the old man's love for justice, and perhaps his
love for his son, caused him to have a mind of his own in this case, for
in the face of lawyer Tresidder's objections and his wife's entreaties
he stood firm. The clause was to this effect--that if Jasper Pennington
or his heirs were ever in a position so to do, they could demand to buy
the Pennington estates, as they existed at the date of the will, at half
the value of the said estates. And that in the case of such an
emergency, five representatives of five county families be asked to make
the valuation. My grandfather further stipulated that none of the
Pennington lands should be sold at any time for any purpose whatever.

Now, the widow of Tresidder greatly objected to this, and even after it
was duly signed did her utmost to get my grandfather to have this clause
expunged. But the Pennington blood asserted itself, and although he had
given way to his wife in such a degree that he had almost disinherited
his son, he still held to this clause.

Not that it could be worth anything to my father. How could he, with
only L500, expect to gain many thousands?

As I said, the will was made some few months before my father was
twenty-one, and it was stipulated that he was to receive the L500 on his
twenty-first birthday.

And now comes a stranger part of the business. About a week before my
father came of age, my grandfather grew angry at what he had done. The
thought of his only son being disinherited in favour of a stranger just
because a woman had twisted him around her finger made him nearly mad.
He saw now what his wife had been aiming at for years; he saw, too, that
the quarrels he had had with my father were of his wife's making; and
anxious to do justly, he wrote a letter to Mr. Trefry telling him that
he desired his presence at Pennington, as he wanted to make a new will,
which should be duly signed and sealed before his son Jasper's
twenty-first birthday. This letter was given to a servant to take to
Truro. Now this servant, like almost every one else she had in the
house, had become a tool of the solicitor's widow, and there is every
reason to believe she saw the letter. Be that as it may, before Lawyer
Trefry reached Pennington, my grandfather, who the day previous had been
a hale, strong man, was dead, and the doctor who was called said that he
died of heart disease.

My father, however, believed that his father had been poisoned, or in
some other way killed, because the woman he had married feared that he
would make a new will in favour of his son Jasper.

And now I have told why Pennington, which had been in the possession of
the Penningtons for many generations, passed out of our hands, and
became the property of the Tresidders.

After my grandfather's funeral L500 were paid to my father, and he was
ordered with many bitter words to leave the home of his fathers. The
clause in the will to which I have referred, however, comforted him
greatly. He was young and strong, and he determined to save up enough
money to get back the Pennington estates according to the provisions
laid down. At that time Elmwater Barton was to let. Old Mr. Quethiock,
who had just died, had left one son who had a shop in Falmouth. This son
did not like farming, and he willingly agreed to let the Barton to my
father, who spent nearly the whole of his capital in stocking it.
Meanwhile, Richard Tresidder lived in state at Pennington, and sneered
at my father, who toiled hard at the Barton, and thus, if my father
hated Richard Tresidder, was it to be wondered?

Now, joining the Pennington lands are those belonging to the Lantallick
estates, which belong to the Archer family, a family as old as the
Penningtons and as greatly respected. Squire Archer had five sons and
one daughter, and my father, who was always friendly with the people at
Lantallick, visited the house often, and all the more because he loved
Mary Archer. Concerning Mary Archer I will pass no opinion. I will only
state facts. I have been told that she was a beautiful young woman, and
that my father loved her dearly. Indeed, it was generally understood
that he should marry Mary when he came of age. It has been said, too,
that Mary was simply crazy in her love for my father; but about that I
have my doubts.

Not long after my father settled down at Elmwater Barton, he asked Mary
to be his wife, and it was then that Squire Archer told him to leave the
house, and informed him, moreover, that his daughter would be shortly
married to Richard Tresidder.

"But," said my father, "Mary has promised to be my wife, promised again
and again."

"And do you think," asked the Squire, "that I would allow my only
daughter to marry a tenant farmer, a wild young scamp that his father
disinherited? Leave the house, I tell you!"

I have heard that Mary pleaded with her father, but I will not vouch for
the truth of that. Certain it is that some time after she became married
to Richard Tresidder.

Thus it was that Richard Tresidder robbed Jasper Pennington not only of
his home and lands, but his love.

Now, my father prospered at Elmwater Barton. He was a clever man, and
fortune favoured him. He began to lay by money, and he farmed the land
so well that folks said he would in a few years, by the blessing of
God, have enough to buy back the Pennington estates, according to the
terms of his father's will. This was told Richard Tresidder and his
mother one day, and they both laughed. About this time my father's
cattle began to die. No one could explain why, but die they did, until
many rumours were afloat, and people whispered that the cattle were
bewitched. Anyhow, it was asserted that Richard Tresidder had been seen
talking with Betsey Fraddam, the witch, while many delicacies had been
taken to Betsey's cottage from Pennington.

Now, as I said, there will be many things in this narrative which I, an
unlearned man, cannot explain. Still, I must tell of matters as they
occurred, this, among others, especially as my relations with Eli
Fraddam, Betsey's son, have been condemned by Parson Inch. It is said
that the Fraddam family has witchcraft in its veins. Anyhow, it is well
known that Betsey was regarded as a witch, while Eli, her son--but of
the poor gnome I will tell later on.

My father tried everything to cure his cattle, but could not, and what
was more perplexing was the fact that other people's cattle in fields
adjoining suffered not at all. In a few months he was driven to
extremities; he saw his chances of buying back his old home slipping
through his fingers, and what maddened him most was that whenever he
passed Richard Tresidder, the man who lived on his estates, laughed him
in the face.

One day my father was in a field adjoining the Pennington lands when he
saw Richard Tresidder.

"Well, farmer," said Tresidder, with a sneer, "and how are you getting
on?"

Whereupon my father accused him of having dealings with Betsey Fraddam,
and told him he was a black-hearted knave, and other things concerning
himself, which maddened Richard Tresidder so that he jumped over the
hedge that divided them and struck my father with his heavy riding-whip.

Now the Penningtons have always been a large-limbed, powerful race, and,
while they have been slow to anger, they have--thank God--always had a
strong sense of what is just, and have always been regarded as brave
men. Richard Tresidder was a slim, wiry man, and, while strong and
agile, was no match for a man who, when he hadn't an ounce too much
flesh, weighed over eleven score pounds. What my father would have done
by him I know not, but while he was in the act of thrashing him two of
Tresidder's men came up, and thus the business ended, at least for the
time. A little while later my father was summoned for attempted murder.

The affair was the talk of Cornwall for some time--at least, that part
of Cornwall--and most people thought my father would be hanged. The
magistrates, who knew the Penningtons and liked them, however, did not
allow this; but he had to pay Tresidder a sum of money which, unless he
were helped, meant his utter ruin.

Again had Richard Tresidder and his mother, who, I believe, was behind
all this, got the upper hand of my father, and again by unfair means.
Was it a wonder, then, that Jasper Pennington should regard them as
enemies? Was it any wonder that I, when I came to know about these
things, should feel bitterly?

After the sentence was passed my father, wondering what to do, went to
see Betsey Fraddam, the witch.

"Betsey," said my father, "tell the truth about my cattle. You can't
harm me, because I'm the oldest son, indeed the only son, but I can
harm you. Did Tresidder hire you to ill-wish the cattle?"

"Jasper," said Betsey, "ded 'ee bait un--ded 'ee bait un, now, right
bad? Zay you ded, now."

"Yes, I did," said my father. "I'm glad the two men came up, or I should
have murder on my conscience, and that's not right, even when the man is
your enemy."

"But you ded bait un! Aw! aw! Jasper; ther's they that can kill, an'
ther's they that can cure. Some can do both."

"You can, Betsey."

"P'raps I can, Jasper. Ave 'ee seed my boy Eli, Jasper?"

"No," replied my father.

"Then come in and zee un--come in, Jasper," and she led the way into the
cottage.

My father, who told me this years after, said he should never forget the
curious feeling that came over him as he saw Betsey Fraddam's son. He
looked even as a child like an old man, and he had a wild look in his
eyes that made him shudder.

"He 'ed'n wot you may call a purty cheeld, es a, then?" asked Betsey.

My father did not reply.

"Well, we ca'ant expect for Betsey Fraddam to 'ave purty cheldern, can
us, then?"

My father was still silent, for Betsey had a strange way with her that
made people afraid. Even I can remember that.

"You may have a son some day, Jasper."

"No," said my father.

"But you may," said Betsey, "you may; I do'ant main nothin' wrong,
Jasper. Margaret Quethiock es well off, and her father do oan the
Barton. Think about it, Jasper. And then ef you do ever have a son,
you'll tell 'im to be kind to Eli, wa'ant 'ee now, Jasper?"

"Yes," said my father, wondering all the time why he should give the
promise. And that was all the conversation they had together at that
time, for my father told me, and he was always a truthful man. But his
cattle got better from that time, and as Mr. Quethiock, of Falmouth,
lent him L300 he was able to tide over his difficulty.

A little while later my father married Margaret Quethiock, and the
fortune that her father gave her was L200, besides the L300 he had
borrowed, and Elmwater Barton rent free during her lifetime. If she died
before my father, the question of rent was to be considered. They had
been married about two years when I was born; but my mother died at my
birth, so I never knew a mother's care and love.

My grandfather Quethiock said nothing about rent after my mother's
death, but my father did not become a rich man. Somehow things were
constantly going wrong with him, and he was in endless trouble about
money matters. It was his stepmother, he told me, who was constantly
persecuting him, because she feared his getting rich, while her son, who
enjoyed my father's wealth, had all sorts of people ready to do his
will. Only for him to hint at a thing, and his satellites would do it.
Thus, one day a herd of cattle would get into a cornfield and destroy
it; and on another, without any apparent reason, a corn-mow would catch
fire. We could never trace it to them, but we always knew by the
jeering laugh on Tresidder's face when he passed us who was the cause of
our trouble.

All this shortened my father's life. When I was nineteen, at the time
when he should have been in his prime, he was a worn-out old man; and
so, when sickness overtook him, he had no strength to fight against it.
It was during this sickness that he told me some of the things I have
written, and also informed me of other matters which will be related
later.

I was with him shortly before he died, and then he said to me very
earnestly, "I leave you Elmwater Barton, Jasper, for I don't think your
grandfather Quethiock will ever charge you rent, and he told me it
should be yours completely at his death; but your real property is
Pennington, my boy. Now I want you to make me a promise."

"I will promise anything in my power, father," I said.

"Then," he replied, quietly, "I want you to promise me that you will
never rest until you get back your own. Never rest until you are back at
Pennington as master and owner. You have been robbed, my son. I have
tried to get your rights and have failed, but you must not fail."

"No, father, I will not fail," I replied. "I will never rest until I
have got back Pennington."

"And never trust a Tresidder, Jasper; they are all as deep as the
bottomless pit, and as cruel as the fiend who rules there."

"I hear, father," was my reply, "and you shall be obeyed."

This was in the month of July, in the year 1737, when I was nineteen
years of age.

What I have to tell is how I tried to get back my home, of the battles
I had to fight, of the love which came into my heart, of many mysteries
which I cannot explain, and of the strange experiences through which I
passed in seeking to obey my father's will.

Whether I shall be believed or no I cannot tell, but I will tell only
the truth, strange as it may all seem. Moreover, let God be the judge
whether my quarrel with the Tresidders was not a just one, and whether I
did not fight fairly, as every honest man should.




CHAPTER II

TELLS HOW I, JASPER PENNINGTON, TRIED TO GET MY OWN


I do not think I have as yet mentioned it, but Richard Tresidder--I mean
the man who entered into my father's possessions--had three sons and one
daughter, and each of these was brought up with the thought that I was
their natural enemy. Of course, they were informed that my grandfather's
will provided the means whereby I, if I were sufficiently fortunate,
could buy back the estate at half its valued worth. And they were in
constant suspense about it. If I were to marry a rich wife it could be
done; if I were to have some stroke of fortune their home might be taken
from them, they having only a given sum of money. And thus it was to
their interest to keep me poor, as well as to damage my reputation in
the neighbourhood.

The eldest son was a year or more older than I, and was, of course,
respected as the heir to the Pennington lands, for it is strange how
people's sympathies veer around on the side of the people who are in
power. My father has told me many times how, when he was thought to be
the prospective heir of Pennington, people could not make enough of him,
while Richard Tresidder had but scant courtesy paid him. When it became
known that my father was disinherited, no matter how unjustly, these
same folks discovered that Richard Tresidder was a very mine of wit and
goodness, while my father was made a butt for fools' jokes.

And so I discovered that my being a Pennington counted but for little,
while it seemed to be forgotten that but for the wiles of a clever,
selfish woman, I should be the Squire of the parish.

When I was old enough I was sent to Tregony grammar school, my father
being determined to give me a schooling befitting the position he hoped,
in spite of his misfortunes, I should some day occupy. Now Nick
Tresidder had been attending this same school for some months when I
went. For this I was very glad, because I thought it would give me an
opportunity for testing him. I had not been in the school a week,
however, when my father came to fetch me away. The reason was that
Richard Tresidder had demanded it, as he would not allow his son to be
educated at the school where the son of a tenant-farmer was admitted. He
told the schoolmaster that he had two other sons whom he intended to
send, but that he should immediately withdraw his patronage if I were
not sent away.

All this angered me as well as my father, but there was no help for it,
and I was sent to Probus instead, where the education was as good, but
where I had no chance of meeting the Tresidders.

I have said that Elmwater Barton was a good farm, but I must confess to
looking longingly at Pennington. This was in the nature of things very
reasonable on my part, for I always looked upon it as my home. But
besides this, I doubt if the whole country can present a stretch of land
so fair, or a house so pleasantly situated. There may be bigger and more
imposing houses, but there are none more comfortable. Besides,
Pennington faces a beautiful glen that is about half a mile wide. I know
of no grass as green as that which grows there, or of trees so fine and
stately. Besides, the river which winds its way downward, and which
sometimes runs side by side with the drive leading from the house to the
main road, is the most beauteous stream of water I ever saw. Then
sloping away from this glen are wooded hills, the sight of which in the
early summer time is enough to make a man sing for joy; and in addition
to all this, while standing at the main entrance of the house you can
see the blue sea, say a mile and a half away. I, who have seen something
of the world, say there is nothing finer in the way of green and
pleasant land, while all the world knows that nowhere are cliffs so fine
and the sea so blue as that which is to be seen in this part of my
native county. Besides, all that land from the house where my father was
born right to the sea belongs to the Pennington estates, while at the
back of the house it stretches just as far, and just as fair.

One day--it was before my father died--I had climbed Trescowal Tor, just
to feast my eyes upon so much loveliness, when I saw Richard Tresidder
walking with his mother toward the Pennington woods. Now a great desire
came into my heart, not to see Tresidder, but to speak to his mother,
whom I knew to be the evil genius of my family. And so I made my way to
the woods, and stood in the pathway as they came up.

They both knew me, not only through my likeness to my father, but
because of my size, for it is well known that the Pennington family on
the male side are at least six inches taller than the ordinary run of
men.

"Do you know you are trespassing?" asked Tresidder.

"My name is Jasper Pennington," I said, proudly.

"Then get off my lands at once," he said, sternly, and with a black
look.

"Not until I have had a good look on the man and woman who have robbed
my father and me," I said--and I knew I had aroused the devil in them as
I spoke. For the woman who had robbed us fairly glared at me, while
Tresidder grasped his stick as though he would strike me. The woman was
nearing seventy, but she was strong and hale, and her eyes flashed like
those of a young girl. I saw, too, that she must have been handsome when
she was young. I marked the cruel, resolute expression of her mouth, and
I did not wonder at the difficulty my grandfather had in resisting her.

"I will have you put in the stocks, and then taken to the lockup, if you
are not gone at once," said Tresidder, savagely.

"I will give your three sons the chance of doing this," I said, with a
laugh. "Three Tresidders against one Pennington isn't bad in fair fight.
Of course, where cunning and cheatery comes in I should be nowhere. Or
perhaps," I continued, "you would like to try yourself. I am only
eighteen, and you are in the prime of your life; still, I should be
pleased to give you the chance."

But he laid no hands on me; instead, he put a whistle to his mouth and
blew.

"Yes," I said, "get some one else to do the work you are afraid to try
yourself; that's a Tresidder all over. Well, I'll go now; I've had a
good look at you both, and I shall know you again."

With that I turned and walked away, for, if the truth must be told, I
did not care about fighting with Tresidder's minions, and my father had
told me many times to be careful.

The path was very crooked, and the foliage was very thick, so that I had
not gone more than a few steps before I was out of their sight. Acting
on the impulse of the moment, I stopped and listened.

"A regular Pennington," I heard the old woman say. "You must be careful,
Richard, for he has more brains than his father. He has all the good
looks of the family, too. We must be silent about all our plans, for if
he knows he will spoil them. Remember the will."

"I do remember; that is why I am anxious about our boys. Still, there
can be no fear, and it will not be so very long before we shall get her.
That settled, and Nick will be all right."

I heard no more after that, but I wondered often what he meant. I told
my father, too, but he could give me no hint toward the solution of
Tresidder's words.

After my father's death I ceased to think so much of Pennington; for I
had Elmwater Barton to look after. I was determined to make the farm
pay, and now that all the responsibility rested on me, I made up my mind
that the Tresidders should not play fast and loose with me, as they had
done with my father. In order to do this I looked carefully around me
for a man in whom I could trust; for, be it remembered, this was a very
difficult matter. My father had engaged two hinds, and each of these had
been bribed by the Tresidders to injure his property. You see, his
enemies had almost supreme power in the parish, and they used it to his
injury. Still, I knew that the Tresidders must have enemies as well as
other people, and it was for me to find out who they were. This I had no
great difficulty in doing. A man named William Dawe had farmed a place
named Treviscoe, on the Pennington estate, and the poor fellow had
several seasons of bad luck. One year his turnip crop failed; the next
the foot and mouth disease got hold of his cattle; and the next, during
the lambing season, he lost a great number of sheep. Indeed, so bad was
his luck that he was unable to pay his rent. Perhaps Tresidder would
have been lenient with him but for two things: one was that he had
refused to take sides with him against my father, and another was that
when Nick Tresidder insulted William Dawe's daughter the farmer gave him
a thrashing. The end of all this was that William Dawe was sold up, and
even then he was not free from all his difficulties.

One of the first important things I did after my father's death,
therefore, after a serious conversation with the farmer, was to lure him
to come to Elmwater Barton, with his wife and son and daughter, in order
to manage the farm. I do not think in all my life I have ever seen a man
so grateful.

"Will you come, William?" I asked, when I told him what wages I could
afford to give.

"Come, Maaster Jasper, come! I reck'n I will! Why--" And then he caught
at my hand, and behaved in a way that made me think for the time that I
was serving him only, and not myself at all.

In a few days William was settled down at the Barton, and right well did
he arrange for the harvest, and right hard did both he and his son work
for me. Indeed, both William and his son George seemed ready to work
their arms off for me, and were both anxious to serve me night and day.
George Dawe was a strapping fellow of twenty-five, nearly as tall and
strong as myself, though not quite. This was proved one day when we
wrestled down in the calves' meadow. I had hard work to master him, for
George had taken the wrestling prize at St. Eve's Feast for three years
in succession. I was proud to have thrown him, especially as I had not
yet got my full strength, not being twenty years of age. George had had
a varied experience. He had been to sea in a trading vessel, and, if the
truth must be confessed, had done a fair amount of smuggling. Be that as
it may, George Dawe loved me like a brother, and nothing was too much
for him to do for me. Thus I regarded myself as very fortunate. Eliza
Dawe, too, was a careful, sensible woman, while Selina, her daughter,
was a strapping, healthy wench who could do as much work as two ordinary
women.

Now, I say this was a great help to me, for they all watched my
interests closely.

"Lev any ov the Trezidders try any ov their dirty capers now," said
George to me, "and we'll laive 'em knaw."

Those who know nothing about farming can have no idea what a great
amount of harm a seemingly little mistake can do. Suppose, for instance,
there are two ten-acred fields side by side. Suppose the month is early
July, when the corn has nearly reached its full height, and the heads
have all bursted ready to ripen. Well, suppose, again, that one of these
ten-acred fields has barley, or oats, or wheat, while the other is a
browsing field in which twenty or thirty head of cattle are feeding.
Then let some evil-disposed person open the gate between these two
fields, and the thirty head of cattle get into the cornfield--what
happens? Why, L20 worth of damage can be done in a single night. And
things like this were often happening in my father's days, and thus he
was kept poor.

But things changed after I got George Dawe on the Barton. His eyes
seemed to be everywhere, and always in my interests.

Let me give one example (and then I will soon get on to my story proper)
how George Dawe saved me a large amount of money, and at the same time
helped me to teach the Tresidders a lesson.

It was the June after I had got William Dawe's family to live with me.
We had had several dry weeks, so that the fields had become parched and
bare, and we were anxious lest the sheep should not have enough grass.
One field had been planted with vatches, which, as every farmer knows,
grow quickly and are cut for the horses.

"William," I said to Dawe one day, "I am afraid we shall have to
sacrifice a hay field. The browsing fields are all brown; the sheep
can't get enough to eat. We must be careful not to turn them there when
the dew is on the grass, though, or they'll get vlayed."

"I wudden trouble, Maaster Jasper; ship c'n nibble a lot on a dewy
mornin', and we sh'll git rain zoon, I reck'n."

"Well, as you think best; but I fancy we'd better turn the biggest lot
into the 'Sheeps' Close' to-night." The "Sheeps' Close" was the name of
one of the best meadows, which at this time was very bare owing to the
long spell of dry, hot weather.

Well, I had to ride to Truro that afternoon, so I did not get home till
late at night. I found George Dawe waiting up for me.

"Anything the matter, George?" I asked.

"Iss, ther es, Maaster Jasper."

"What?" I asked.

"The Trezidders be up to the ould gaame. When I wos comin' 'ome from St.
Eve two or dree 'ours agone, I 'eared young Nick plannin' ev it weth
Buddle."

"Explain, George," I said.

George told his story, with the result that we made our way to the
"Sheeps' Close" and hid behind the hedge. Just before dawn--that is,
about three o'clock in the morning--we saw two men coming toward the
gateway. We saw them unfasten the gate and open it wide, then we heard
one say to the other, "Now let's fetch up the sheep, and the fool will
be worth a bit less money in a few hours."

Then they went away, and in a little while we heard them "whishing" up
the sheep. George closed the gate, and we both waited until they came
up. There were a hundred and seventy-five sheep in the flock, and they
brought them up for the purpose of turning them into the vatches. Here
they would be knee-deep in rank vegetation, and the poor things, glad to
get to such juicy meat, would eat ravenously. The result of this would
be that they would get filled with wind and would swell horribly, and if
not immediately relieved would die a painful death. If the design
succeeded in this case I should be hundreds of pounds poorer before the
men would be at their work.

It may be imagined, therefore, that my blood was pretty hot, and that my
feelings toward the Tresidders were not those of a lover, and I will
leave it to any fair-minded man whether my anger was not reasonable.

As I said, George and I waited by the gate until they came up. The sheep
came close to the gate, as if waiting to be let in, and the two men
stood behind, not knowing, evidently, why the poor creatures did not go
to their death.

"What's the matter, Jacob?" asked young Nick Tresidder.

"Dunnaw, aw'm zure," answered Jacob, who was the eldest son of
Tresidder's "head man" and the worst rake in the parish. "Lev us go up
an' zee."

So they came up, as we expected they would.

"Why, the gaate es cloased and apsed!" cried Jacob. "The devil must 'a
'bin 'ere."

"Nonsense," said Nick, "you couldn't have opened it; you must have been
dreaming. There, open it."

"You tackle Nick Tresidder, an' I'll 'ave a go with Buddle," said George
to me, in a whisper; "he's allays a-braggin' as 'ow 'ee c'n bait me. Now
then, jump out!"

At this we both leaped forward. I took Nick Tresidder by the scruff of
the neck, while George gripped Buddle like a blacksmith's vice.

The sheep jumped away frightened, while these two blackguards cried out
as if the judgment day had come.

"Es et the devil?" asked Buddle.

"No," I roared out, "it isn't the devil; we're not related to you in any
way, and your master won't help you."

By this time they found out who we were, and began to wriggle finely.

"Look you, Nick Tresidder," I said; "the law will do nothing for us, so
we are going to take the law in our own hands."

"What do you want?" asked Tresidder.

"Nothing unfair," I said. "We are man to man. You are on my land, and
you were doing a trick worthy only of the devil, your master. We will
wrestle fair, as becomes Cornishmen, and you must show no mercy, for as
God is above me I'll show none."

Now I will do these men justice. They were not afraid of us, and when
they knew that we were people of this world and not ghosts from the
other, they showed no desire to run away. Nick Tresidder was a year
older than I, while Buddle always sneered when folks said that George
Dawe was a better man than he. Besides, they both saw that we did not
mean playing at wrestling.

But Nick Tresidder, Tresidder-like, was not fair; he jumped upon me
before I was ready, a thing always regarded as cowardly at a wrestling
match. I saw in a minute, too, that he knew the tricks of the art, and
were I not a wrestler, too, and a strong man to boot, my arm must have
been broken before I could put forth my strength. This angered me more
than I like to be angered, for now, when we were to meet man to man, I
felt not so bitter about the sheep. So I put forth all my strength and
made him let go his vantage hold, then I put my arm around his chest,
and right glad was I when I found him a strong man; so I played with him
for the pleasure of wrestling, just as any true Cornishman will. But I
was wrong in doing this. My father had told me never to trust a
Tresidder, and I did trust him to wrestle fairly, even although he had
tried to kill my sheep. While I wrestled, merely for the pleasure of
wrestling, I felt a stab at my side, and I knew that a knife had entered
my flesh just under my arm.

"You are a coward, Nick Tresidder," I said, "a coward in every way;"
then, not knowing whether I was dangerously wounded or no, I played with
him no longer, for a man cannot bear everything. I caught him in both my
arms and lifted him from the ground; then I wrestled in earnest. I heard
one of his ribs snap, but he did not cry out, then another, and he
became but a child to me; so I let him go, and he staggered away like a
drunken man.

"Now go home and tell your father what you have done," I said, "and tell
him who you found in Elmwater Barton 'Sheeps' Close.'"

Then I turned to George, who was still struggling with Buddle, and who,
just as I came to him, threw him heavily.

"George," I said, "I have been stabbed. Just tie this cloth tightly
around my chest."

"The coward!" said George, panting; "but where es a, Maaster Jasper?"

"He won't wrestle any more for a month or two," I replied; "but I would
not have hurt him so if he had not stabbed me."

So there, in the early morning light, while the birds began to sing, and
the sheep tried to find food on the dewy ground, George Dawe tied a
cloth tightly across my naked chest, and I could not help wincing at the
pain. Just as he was finishing, Jacob Buddle got slowly up from the
ground. He had been badly stunned, but no bones were broken.

"Look after your master," I said; then I saw the knife with which Nick
had stabbed me lying on the ground. "There," I said, "you know that
knife, I expect; your master used it while we wrestled."

But Buddle was dazed, and did not reply. So when I had put on my coat I
went to Nick Tresidder, who was very faint and unable to walk, so ill
had he become. Then my heart softened, and together we took him up to
Pennington, and Buddle, who was by this time better, said he could
manage him.

The next day I heard that Nick Tresidder had fallen from his horse and
broken his ribs, and Dr. Hawke, who had been called in, said that he
must remain in bed many days. But of this I am sure, although neither
George Dawe nor I said a word, Richard Tresidder knew the truth.

Now I have told this, not because I delight in such things, but because
I want it to be known how I was treated, and what I had to contend with,
for this was but a sample of the many ways in which the Tresidders had
tried to harm me. I have often wondered why they felt so evilly toward
me, seeing that they were rich at my cost, and I have come to the
conclusion that it is a law of human nature for a man to hate those whom
he has treated unjustly. But I am an unlearned man, and the heart of
man--and woman--is past finding out.

And now I must tell how, in spite of myself, I was drawn more and more
into contact with the Tresidders, with other matters which strangely
affected my life later on.




CHAPTER III

HOW I WAS ROBBED OF ELMWATER BARTON; HOW I FLOGGED THE TRESIDDERS, AND
WAS PILLORIED BECAUSE OF IT


A month after the event I have just related I was walking down toward
the sea, for my wound, which was but slight, had healed up, when,
passing by Betsey Fraddam's cottage, I saw the old woman sitting by the
door mending a garment.

"'Ere, Maaster Jasper, I want 'ee," said Betsey.

So I went toward her, not caring to offend her. Now I am not a
superstitious man, neither did I ever believe in some of the stories
told about Betsey. At the same time, I knew better than to offend her.
Even Parson Grigg was civil to her, and admitted that she had powers
which could not be trifled with. It is also a fact that she had cured
some of my cattle which had been stung by adders, by charming them,
while, on the other hand, my father believed that she had, at Richard
Tresidder's bidding, ill-wished his cows. She had on several occasions
cured terrible diseases which the doctor from Falmouth said were
incurable, and I have heard it said that when Mr. John Wesley visited
Cornwall, and was told about her, the great man looked very grave, and
expressed a belief in her power. This being so, it is no wonder I did
not like to offend her; neither had I any reason for doing so. She had
been kind to me, and once, when I had scarlet fever, gave me some stuff
that cured me even when Dr. Martin said I should be dead in a few hours.
Besides, according to my father's promise, I had been friendly with Eli,
her son. Now, Eli was several years older than I, but he never grew to
be more than about four feet high, and was the most ill-formed creature
I have ever seen. He had bow legs, a hump back, and was what was called
"double-chested." His thick black hair grew down close to his eyes,
which eyes, in addition to being very wild and strange-looking, were
wrongly set, so that no one could tell which way he was looking. He was
rather sickly-looking, too, and was thought to be very weak. But this I
know to be wrong. Eli, ill-formed as he was, was much stronger than most
men, nature having endowed his sinews with wondrous hardness and powers
of endurance. Eli did no work, but lived by poaching and begging food at
the farmhouses. As Betsey's son he was never refused, especially as some
believed he had inherited his mother's powers.

Well I entered the cottage and sat on a wooden stool while Eli sat in a
corner of the open fireplace and looked at me steadfastly with one eye,
and with the other saw what was going on out in the road.

"Well," said Betsey, "and so you found out what Nick Tresidder wanted to
do, then? An' I 'ear as 'ow you've nearly killed 'im."

"How do you know?" I asked.

"How do I knaw? How do I knaw everything? But you'll be paid out,
Maaster Jasper! Tell y' Dick Tresidder 'll pay 'ee out. I c'n zee et
comin'."

"See what coming?" I asked.

"Look 'ee, Maaster Jasper; 'ave 'ee bin to zee yer Granfer Quethiock
lately?"

"No."

"Then you be a vool, Jasper--tell y' you be a vool. Wy, 'ee's nearly
dead; he may be dead by now. What 'bout the Barton, Jasper? 'Ave 'a
willed et to 'ee?"

At this my heart became heavy. Up to now no rent had been charged, and I
hoped that my grandfather would make it over to me. My uncles, I knew,
did not like me.

"Old Mester Quethiock es dead, es dead, es dead," said Eli, in his
funny, grunting kind of voice.

"How do 'ee knaw, Eli?" asked his mother.

"I knaw, I knaw," grunted Eli, and then he laughed in his funny way, but
he would tell nothing more.

"What ought I to do?" I asked, for I felt a great fear come into my
heart, although my father had told me that my Grandfather Quethiock
meant to give me the Barton.

"Go and zee, go and zee," said Betsey.

So I went back home and saddled my mare and rode to Falmouth. When I got
into Falmouth town I saw an ironmonger whom I knew, and he looked as
though he would speak, so I stopped my horse.

"Well, and so yer poor gran'father is gone," he said.

"Is he?" I replied; "I did not know till now."

"Iss, he's gone, and a good man he wos, too. His two sons, yer uncles,
'ave been waitin' a long time to git into his shoes. Ah, there'll be a
change now! Th' ould man was the soul of generosity; but the sons, Peter
and Paul, nobody'll be able to rob one to pay the other of they two. But
I 'ear as 'ow you'm safe, Maaster Jasper. The Barton es yours, I'm
told."

This cheered me, so I rode on toward my grandfather's house. Just
before I got there I saw my two uncles coming down the street, and with
them was Richard Tresidder. I checked my horse and watched them, and saw
that they entered a lawyer's office, and the lawyer who owned it was the
son of the man who was present when Lawyer Trefry drew up my
grandfather's will.

I got to know nothing by going to my grandfather's house, save to find
out the day of the funeral, which was fixed for three days later, and
which I attended. After the funeral was over the will was read, and the
lawyer who read it was Nicholas Tresidder, a bachelor after whom young
Nick was called.

Now, I do not pretend to be a learned man, but I do love honesty, and I
do say that the will was drawn up to defraud me. Neither do I believe
that my grandfather ever intended the words written down, to read as the
lawyer said they read, for he had told my father that Elmwater Barton
was to be left to me. According to Lawyer Tresidder, however, the whole
of my grandfather's property was left to his two sons, Peter and Paul
Quethiock, and it was left to their generosity as to whether I, his
grandson, Jasper Pennington, should remain at the Barton free of all
rent, and whether the land should be eventually mine. Thus, according to
the lawyer's explanation, it was left to my uncles' generosity and
judgment as to whether my grandfather's desire should be carried out. I
desired that this part of the will should be read again, but so many
words were used that I had difficulty in making head or tail of it. All
the time I noticed that my uncles looked very uneasy.

Now, I know that my grandfather was very fond of me, and in spite of
the fact that I had been robbed of my rightful heritage, he was proud
that he had a Pennington for a grandson. Thus I am sure that it was his
will that I should have the Barton for my own. But during the last few
years he had been very feeble and infirm, and thus in the hands of a
clever lawyer he could easily be deceived as to what was legal.

I will not attempt to give a lengthy account of what followed. Indeed, I
have not a very distinct remembrance. I was not long in seeing what was
in the minds of my two uncles, and I quickly realised that they had been
in league with the Tresidders; and so, feeling that it was their
intention to defraud me, I became dazed and bewildered. I have a
confused recollection of asking some questions, and of the replies
given, and after hearing them I left the house, with the consciousness
that I was not the owner of Elmwater Barton, but a tenant liable to be
dismissed by my uncles, both of whom were, I was sure, tools of Richard
Tresidder.

Still, I determined not to give up without a struggle, so I rode to
Truro that same day and saw Lawyer Trefry, the son of the old lawyer who
drew up my grandfather's will. He listened to my story very attentively,
and when I had finished declared that Nicholas Tresidder was a clever
fellow.

"I think it is possible you may have a case though, Jasper," he said; "I
think you may have a case. I will see to it at once. I will examine the
will, and if there is a chance you may depend that I will seize on it.
But remember this: Nicholas Tresidder is a clever fellow, and when he
sets his mind on a thing it's a difficult thing to find him napping."

That night I went back to the Barton with a sad heart, speaking not a
word to any one. I longed to ease my pain by denouncing the people who
sought to work my ruin, but in spite of William Dawe's anxious
solicitations I held my peace. It is true Lawyer Trefry gave me some
little hope, but I did not sleep that night, and for the next few days I
wandered around the farm like one demented. Presently I saw Lawyer
Trefry again, and I knew directly I caught the look on his face that my
case was hopeless.

"Nicholas Tresidder is a smart fellow," he said, with a grunt, "a very
smart fellow. There is no doubt but that your grandfather meant you to
have the Barton--not the slightest doubt; but then, you see, it is not
legally yours. Let us hope that your uncles will abide by your
grandfather's evident desire and make it yours."

But I had no hope of that, and I shook my head sadly. "As well expect
water from a stone," I said. "For a long time I have wondered why
Richard Tresidder should be so friendly with Peter and Paul Quethiock;
now I know. He has been for years trying to ruin me, and now he has
accomplished it."

"How old are you?" asked Lawyer Trefry, suddenly, as though a new
thought had struck him.

"Twenty next month," I replied.

"Bah! why did not old Quethiock live a month longer?" grunted the
lawyer.

"Why, what would have been the use?" I asked.

"Use? Why, if you could prove that you had held the land for twenty
years, you could lawfully claim it as yours."

And thus everything was against me, and although we talked over a dozen
things together, no ray of light came to cheer the darkness.

The next thing that happened was the event of a letter which I got from
Nicholas Tresidder, the Falmouth lawyer. This letter was to the effect
that as I was neither a lawful tenant of Elmwater Barton, nor the owner
thereof, I must immediately vacate the place, as Paul Quethiock intended
to take possession thereof immediately. I had expected this, and had
been for days trying to value the stock on the place. As I have before
stated, I was barely twenty years of age, and although my father had
appointed as my guardians two neighbouring farmers, they took but little
interest in my affairs--indeed, I do not think they understood what
their duties were. Anyhow, they took no steps to help me, neither did
they interfere with me in any way.

On the receipt of this letter, which was brought from Falmouth by
messenger, I saddled my mare, and immediately rode to see Lawyer Trefry.

He read the letter very carefully, and then asked me if I had received
nothing else.

"Nothing," I replied; "what is there else to receive? They have taken
away the farm, they have ordered me to leave it; now I am come to you to
arrange with James Trethewy and John Bassett about selling the stock. I
suppose the crops will have to be valued, too, and a lot of other
matters before I can realise on my property."

He looked very grave, but said nothing for some time.

"I will do what I can at once," he grunted, at length; "but believe me,
Jasper, my boy, Nicholas Tresidder is a clever dog--a very clever dog.
He's been set to work on this bone, and he'll leave nothing on it--mark
my words, he'll leave nothing on it."

"He _has_ left nothing," I replied; "I doubt if the stock will fetch
very little more than the L500 my father spent when he took Elmwater
Barton from my Grandfather Quethiock."

Lawyer Trefry shook his head and grunted again; but he made no remark,
and so I left, thinking that I knew the worst. I imagined that when the
stock was sold I should be worth several hundred pounds, and with this
as a nucleus, I should have something to give me a fair start.

And so the day of the sale of the stock on the Barton was fixed, but
before that day came another letter was brought by a messenger of Lawyer
Nicholas Tresidder from Falmouth. This letter stated that as no rent had
been paid since the death of Margaret Pennington, the heirs of the late
Peter Quethiock claimed six years' rent, as they were entitled to do by
the law of the land.

I knew now what Lawyer Trefry meant when he said that Lawyer Tresidder
would pick the bone clean. He had seen this coming, while I, young and
ignorant of the law, had never dreamed of it. Old Betsey Fraddam had
said that Richard Tresidder would pay me out, and he had done so now.
Six years' rent would swallow up the value of the stock, and would take
every penny I possessed. Thus at twenty I, who, but for the fraud and
deceit of the Tresidders, would be the owner of Pennington, would be
absolutely homeless and penniless. Then for the first time a great
feeling of hate came into my heart, and then, too, I swore that I would
be revenged for the injury that was done to me.

Again I went to Lawyer Trefry, and again he grunted.

"I expected this," he said; "I knew it would come. Nick Tresidder is a
clever dog; I was sure he would pick the bone clean."

"And there is no hope for me?" I asked, anxiously.

"You will have your youth, your health and strength, and your liberty,"
he replied. "I do not see how they can rob you of that; no, even Nick
Tresidder can't rob you of that!"

"But the rest?"

"It will have to go, it must all go; there is no hope for it--none at
all," and the lawyer grunted again.

I will not describe what took place during the next few weeks--there is
no need; enough to say that all I had was taken, that I was stripped of
all I possessed, and was left a homeless beggar.

As Lawyer Trefry told me, they had done their worst now, at least for
that time. Richard Tresidder had been undoubtedly working in the dark
for years to accomplish this, and in his kinsman the lawyer he had found
a willing helper. It was plain to see, too, that it would be to Peter
and Paul Quethiock's advantage to try and take the Barton from me. It
was a valuable piece of land, and would enrich them considerably. There
was no difficulty, either, in seeing Richard Tresidder's motives. He had
wronged me, and, as I said, it seems a law of life that a man shall feel
bitterly toward one he has wronged; and besides all that, his safety lay
in keeping me poor, and to this end he brought all his energies to bear.

When it was all over I think I became mad. While there was a straw to
which I could hold I managed to restrain myself, but when the last was
broken I think I gave myself over to the devil. I behaved in a way that
frightened people, until even those who were inclined to be friendly
avoided me. By and bye only one house was open to me, and that was old
Betsey Fraddam's. It was true I visited the taverns and beershops in the
neighbourhood, and formed companionships with men who years before I
despised; but Betsey Fraddam's house was the only one open to me which I
could regard as anything like a home. Even Betsey grew angry with me,
and would, I think, have bidden me leave her doors but for her son Eli,
who seemed to love me in a dumb, dog-like sort of way.

"Why doan't 'ee roust yerzelf up, Jasper?" she would say. "Spoase you be
put upon, spoase Squire Trezidder 'ave chaited 'ee--that ed'n to zay you
shall maake a maazed noodle of yerzelf. Roust yerzelf up, an' begin to
pay un back."

"How can I do it, Betsey?"

"'Ow? Better do a bit a smugglin' than do nothin'."

"Yes; and isn't that what Tresidder wants? If he can get me in the
clutches of the law that way it will just please him. Mad I am, I know,
but not mad enough for that."

"Then go to Plymouth, or go to Falmouth, my deear cheeld. Git on board a
shep there, an' go off to some furrin country and make a fortin."

"There are no fortunes to be made that I know of, Betsey; besides, I
don't want to get away from St. Eve. I want to stay here and keep my eye
upon Tresidder."

"And what good will that do? You ca'ant 'urt 'ee by stayin' 'ere. 'E's
too clever for you; he c'n allays bait 'ee while you stay 'ere,
especially when you do behave like a maazed noodle."

"Very well, Betsey. I will leave your house," I said after she had been
talking to me in this fashion one day; "I can manage to live somewhere."

"Jasper mus'n't go 'way," said Eli; "Jasper stay with me. Ef Jasper go
'way, I go 'way. I help Jasper. I knaw! I knaw!" and then the poor gnome
caught my hands and laughed in a strange way which was half a cry.

And so, because Betsey loved Eli with a strange love, and because Eli
clung to me with a dog-like devotion, I made Betsey's cottage my home.
Plan after plan did I make whereby I might be able to make Richard
Tresidder and all his family suffer for their behaviour to me, but I saw
no means. What could I do? I had no friends, for when I left Elmwater
Barton William Dawe and his family left the parish. For a long time I
could not make up my mind to ask for work as a common labourer in a
parish where I had been regarded as the owner of a barton. It seemed
beneath me, and my foolish pride, while it did not forbid me to idle
away my days and live in anything but a manly way, forbade me to do
honest manual work. But it would have made no difference even if I had
been less foolish, for when I on one occasion became wiser, and sought
work among the farmers, I was refused on every hand. The fact was, every
one was afraid to offend Richard Tresidder, and as every tenant farmer
in the parish was in his power, perhaps their conduct was reasonable.

And thus it came about that my manhood slipped away from me, and I
became a loafing outcast. I would have left the parish but for a
seemingly unreasonable desire to be near Richard Tresidder, who day by
day I hated more and more. I know I was mad, and forgot what was due to
my name in my madness.

When a year had gone, and I was nearly twenty-one years of age, there
were few more degraded sights in the parish than I. My clothes had
become worn out, and my whole appearance was more that of a savage than
of anything else. People said, too, that the look of a devil shone from
my eyes, and I saw that people avoided me. And as I brooded over this,
and remembered that I owed it all to the Tresidders, I vowed again and
again that I would be revenged, and that all the Tresidder brood should
suffer a worse hell than that through which I passed.

Nothing cheered me but the strange love of Eli Fraddam, who would follow
me just as a dog follows its master. When I could get a few pence I
would go to the alehouse and try and forget my sorrow, but I nursed my
anger all the time, and never once did I give up my dreams of harming
the Tresidders. I write all this because I want to tell my story
faithfully, and because I will give no man the chance to say that I
tried to hide the truth about my feelings toward my enemies.

The day before my twenty-first birthday I was loafing around the lanes
when I saw Richard Tresidder and his son Nick drive past me. They took
the Falmouth road, and, divining their destination, I followed them in a
blind, unreasoning sort of way. As I trudged along plans for injuring
them formed themselves in my mind, one of which I presently determined I
would carry into effect. It was the plan of a savage, and perhaps a
natural one. My idea was to wait outside the town of Falmouth, to waylay
them, and then to thrash them both within an inch of their lives. I
remember that I argued with myself that this would be fair to them. They
would be two to one, and I would use nothing but my fists.

When I got into Falmouth I spent the few pence I possessed in food, and
then I made inquiries about the time they would return. I discovered
that they intended to leave the George Inn about five o'clock in the
evening, so I spent the time loafing around the town, and repeating to
myself what I would do with them both that night.

About three o'clock in the afternoon, however, my plans became altered.
As I stood at a street corner, I saw Richard Tresidder, with his son
Nick, besides several other gentlemen, coming down the street. Scarcely
realising what I did, for the very sight of him made me mad, I went
toward them, and as Richard Tresidder came up I spat in his face.

"Who's a thief? Who's a cheat? Who got Pennington by cheatery and
lying?" I shouted.

"Get out of the way, you blackguard," cried Nick Tressider, the lawyer.

"I'll not get out of the way," I cried; "I'll tell what's the truth. He
killed my grandfather; he hocussed him into making a false will, and he
and you have robbed me. Ah, you lying cowards, you know that what I say
is true!"

Then Richard Tresidder lifted his heavy stick and struck me, and before
the bystanders knew what had happened there was a street brawl; for I
struck Richard Tresidder a heavy blow on the chin which sent him reeling
backward, and when his son Nick sprang upon me I threw him from me with
great force, so that he fell to the ground, and I saw the blood gush
from his nose. After that I remember nothing distinctly. I have a dim
recollection of fighting madly, and that I was presently overpowered and
taken to the lock-up.

I remained in the lock-up till the next morning, when I was taken
before the magistrates. I don't know what was said, and at the time I
did not care. I was angry with myself for not biding my time and
flogging the Tresidders in the way I had planned, and yet I was pleased
because I had disgraced Tresidder--at least, I thought I had--before the
whole town. I have an idea that questions were asked about me, and that
one of the magistrates who knew my grandfather said it was a pity that a
Pennington should come to such a pass. Richard Tresidder and his friends
tried to get an extreme sentence passed upon me, but the end of it all
was that I was sentenced to be pilloried for six hours, and then to be
publicly flogged.

Soon after I was taken to the market-place, where the pillory was set
up, and I, in face of the jeering crowd, was tied to a pole. Then on the
top of this pole, about six feet from the platform on which I stood, a
stout piece of board was placed, which had three hollow places cut out.
My neck was pressed into one socket and my wrists in the two others.
Then another stout piece of board, with hollow places cut out to
correspond with the other, was placed on the top of it. This pressed my
neck very hardly, and strained it so that I could hardly breathe; it
also fastened my hands, and hurt my wrists badly. I know of nothing
nearer crucifixion than to be pilloried, for the thing was made
something like a cross, and my head and arms were crushed into the piece
of board which corresponds with the arms of a cross in such a way that
to live was agony.

And there I stood while the jeering crowd stood around me, some howling,
some throwing rotten eggs at me, and others pelting me with cabbage
stumps and turnips. After I had stood there about three hours some one
came and made the thing easier, or I should not have lived through the
six hours, and after that time, the mob having got tired of pelting me,
I was left a little time in peace.

When the six hours were nearly up, I saw Nick Tresidder come to the
market-place with two maidens. One I saw was his sister, the other was a
stranger to me. I knew they had come to add to my shame, and the sight
of them made me mad again. I tried to speak, but the socket was too
small, and I could not get enough breath to utter a word. Still, anger,
I am sure, glared from my eyes as I looked at Nick and his sister; but
when I looked at the other maiden, a feeling which I cannot describe
came over me. She was young--not, I should think, quite eighteen--and
her face was more beautiful than anything I have ever seen. Her eyes
were large and brown, while her hair was also brown, and hung in curls
down her back. Her face, thank God! was not like that of the Tresidders;
it was kind and gentle, and she looked at me in a pitying way.

"What has he done?" she asked, in a voice which, to me, was as sweet as
the sound of a brook purling its way through a dell in a wood.

"Done!" said Nick Tresidder. "He is a blackguard; he nearly killed both
me and my father."

She looked at me steadfastly, and as she did so my heart throbbed with a
new feeling, and tears came into my eyes in spite of myself.

"Surely no," she replied; "he has a kind, handsome face, and he looks as
though he might be a gentleman."

"Gentleman!" cried Nick. "He will be flogged presently, then you will
see what a cur he is."

"Flogged! Surely no."

"But he will be, and I wish that I were allowed to use the whip. Why, he
belongs to the scum of the earth."

By this time I felt my degradation as I had never felt it before, for I
felt that I would give worlds, did I possess them, to tell her the whole
truth. I wondered who she was, and I writhed at the thought of Nick
poisoning her mind against me.

Seeing them there others came up, and I heard one ask who this beauteous
maiden was.

"Don't you know?" was the reply. "She is Mistress Naomi Penryn."

"What is his name?" asked this maiden, presently.

"Can't you see?" replied Nick. "Ah! the eggs have almost blotted out the
name. It is Jasper Pennington, street brawler and vagabond."

And this was the way I first met Naomi Penryn.




CHAPTER IV

I ESCAPE FROM THE WHIPPING-POST, AND FIND MY WAY TO GRANFER FRADDAM'S
CAVE


No words can describe the shame I felt at the time. Before Naomi Penryn
came there and looked upon me I was mad with rage and desire for
vengeance. I longed to get to a place where I could meet the whole
Tresidder brood face to face. But now a new feeling came to me. Had I
not after all been a brute, and had I not acted like a maniac? For the
look on her face made me love goodness and beauty. I could do nothing,
however; my hands were numb, and my tongue was dry and parched. All I
was capable of at this moment was to listen and to look into the fair
maid's face, and feel a great longing that she might not despise me as
Nick Tresidder evidently intended that she should.

The crowd did not pelt me while she stood there; I think it was because
there was something in her presence that hindered them. Every one could
see at a glance that she was different from the host of laughing things
that cared nothing for my disgrace.

I waited eagerly for her to speak again; her words seemed to ease my
pain, and to make me feel that I, too, was a man in spite of all I had
suffered.

"Jasper Pennington," she said, presently; "why, Pennington is the name
of your house, Nick!"

"Yes," replied Nick, savagely.

"He's young, too," she continued, looking at me curiously, and yet with
a pitying look in her eyes.

Then I remembered I was twenty-one that day, and that my father had been
dead barely two years. Thus, on my twenty-first birthday, I was
pilloried as a vagabond and a street brawler, while this beauteous girl
looked at me.

"Where does he live?" she asked again, as though she were interested in
me.

"Up to a year ago he lived in St. Eve's parish," replied Nick. "He
managed to stay by fraud on Elmwater Barton; he was a brute then, and
tried to kill me. He would have succeeded, too, but for Jacob Buddle. I
hope the man who flogs him will lay it on hard."

She gave me one more look, and in it I saw wonder and pity and fear.
Then she said, "Let us go away, Nick. I do not care to stay longer."

"No, we will not go yet!" cried Nick; "let us see him get his lashes. He
will be taken down in a few minutes. There, the constables are coming."

I saw the tears start to her eyes, while her lips trembled, and at that
moment I did not feel the sting of the lies Nick had told.

The whipping-post was close to the place where the pillory had been set
up, and I saw that the constable held the rope with which I was to be
tied. Then two men came and unfastened the piece of wood which had
confined my head and hands. At first I felt no strength either to hold
up my head or to move my hands, but while they were untying my legs the
blood began to flow more freely, and I knew that my strength was coming
back. The ropes being removed I was allowed to stand a minute, so that
my numbed body might become sensitive to the lash of the whip, but I
thought not of it. I kept my eyes steadily on Naomi Penryn, and fed upon
the look of pity on her face. I knew that she must think of me as a
savage brute, and yet she felt kindly toward me. She did not ask to go
away again; she seemed to be held by a strange fascination, and watched
while the rope was fastened to the ring in the whipping-post. Then I saw
Richard Tresidder come up. He had a scar on his cheek, and from his eyes
flashed a look of anger, as though he gloated over the thought of my
shame and suffering. No sooner did she see him than she came to him and
asked that I might be spared the whipping, but Tresidder would not
listen to her.

"He deserves to be hanged, my dear," he said; "if such low fellows as he
are allowed to bully gentlemen in the streets, what is to become of us?"

Now this was hard to bear, for as all the world knows the Pennington
family is one of the best in the county, but I saw that he wanted to
embitter her mind against me.

Then I saw Lawyer Trefry come up, and two justices with him, and while
my old friend did not speak to me, I knew that he thought of me kindly.

"The lad hath been much provoked," he said. "I have known him as a good
lad for years, and but for unfair treatment, matters would be reversed."

At this two of the justices nodded their heads, while Richard Tresidder
called out for the constables to do their work, for he saw that people
began to sympathise with me.

Again I turned to Naomi Penryn, and as I saw the look on her face I
determined that I would not bear the lash. Not that I feared the pain of
body, but I could bear the degradation no longer. Then they lifted me
from the platform on which I had been standing, and the people could see
that my neck was cruelly discoloured, while my hands were blue.

"He hath suffered much," I heard it whispered, "and Squire Tresidder
hates him. He's a Pennington, and his father was robbed. Isn't he a
fine, strapping fellow; no wonder they are afraid of him."

This and other things I heard, until I knew that Lawyer Trefry had been
making the mob friendly; for I have noticed again and again that
ignorant people are easily changed from one state of feeling to another.

Now when I came to the whipping-post I began to look around for a means
of escape, and to think how I should deal with the two constables that
held me.

"Fasten him tight!" cried Richard Tresidder; then, just as the
constables released my hands in order to put the rope on me, I gave a
desperate struggle, and feeling great strength at that moment, I threw
the constables from me, and made a great leap through the crowd. Not a
man laid hands on me in spite of Richard Tresidder's commands, for which
I knew I had to thank Lawyer Trefry, who with others had changed the
feelings of the people. So I quickly got away from the town, and ran as
hard as I was able to the River Fal. I knew that I should be followed,
for I had not undergone my full penalty, and the law was on Richard
Tresidder's side, so I determined that I would get among the woods that
slope up westward from the river, and hide as best I might.

I knew I should be safe for the night, for the woods there were very
thick, and night would soon be upon me. My only fear was that my
strength would not hold out, for having eaten nothing for many hours I
was hungry and faint.

After more than an hour's running I reached the woods, and, as far as I
knew, little trouble had been taken to follow me, so having hidden
myself among some very thick branches I laid down and rested. Could I
have obtained some food I think I should have been fairly contented, for
I felt neither so angry nor friendless as I had felt in the morning.
Presently I heard a rustling among the bushes, and I fancied that my
pursuers must be near me, so I lay very quiet and listened, but could
hear no sound of human voices. So I became curious to know what made the
noise, and to my delight I saw a cow that had evidently strayed away
from its field, having probably got into the wood to be under the shade
of the trees, and away from wasp-flies. At first she was frightened at
me, but I had been used to cattle all my life, so I soon quieted her,
and she let me approach her. I saw that it was time for her to be
milked, so, making the palm of my hand into a cup, I got enough milk to
refresh me considerably and to give me strength to carry out any plans I
could make.

Scheme after scheme passed through my mind, but every one of them was
driven away by the memory of Naomi Penryn's face and the kind words she
had spoken. I knew that in going back to St. Eve I was going back to
danger, and yet I determined I would go. I wanted to be close to the
Pennington lands. I wanted to watch Richard Tresidder. Besides, I
remembered that Naomi Penryn was probably a guest at Pennington. Then I
began to ask myself why she should be with the Tresidders, and what
relationship she bore to them. For I did not know her at all. The name
of Penryn was well known in the county, but I did not know to what
branch of the family she belonged. What connection had she with Nick
Tresidder? Why should he bring her to see me that day? And what were the
Tresidders' plans concerning her?

It came to me suddenly. She was intended for Nick Tresidder. I
remembered the conversation I had heard between Richard Tresidder and
his mother, and I thought I understood its meaning. Then my heart gave a
wild leap, while hot blood rushed madly into my head, for I knew then
that a new life had entered mine. I felt that I loved Naomi Penryn with
a great love, and that this love would never leave me while my heart
continued to beat. For I had not been given to walking out with maidens;
my life had been filled with other things, and so the love I felt was
new to me--it filled my whole life, and every breath I drew increased
it.

For a long time I lay and dreamed of my love; I did not think of the way
in which she must have regarded me, neither did I for a long while
remember my degradation. I lived in happy forgetfulness of everything,
save the love-joy that filled my life. The birds fluttered hither and
thither on the twigs which grew so thickly around, and finally settled
to rest, while the insects ceased to hum as the night descended, but I
scarcely heeded them. I lay among the ferns, my head pillowed on a
moss-covered stone, and thought of Naomi Penryn. I did not care who she
was; I did not think. Why should I? For I believe that when God sends
love into our hearts, it does not matter as to name and lineage. I had
seen the flash of her eyes, and remembered the tear drops that
glistened. I had seen the beauteous face, so full of tenderness and
truth; I had heard her voice, sweeter than the sighing of the night wind
as it played among the wild flowers, and I cared for nothing else. Hour
after hour passed away, the woods became darker and darker, but I could
still see Naomi's face. Then the eastern sky became streaked with golden
light, and the birds sang to welcome the advent of day, but their songs
were not so sweet as the memory of Naomi's voice. For my love was the
gift of God, and I thought then only of what was beautiful and true.

But with the dawn of day other memories came to me. I thought of my
shame; I remembered that she had been told to regard me as a vagabond
and a street brawler. I knew that Nick Tresidder would seek to poison
her mind against me, and that even now I was being searched for that I
might be degraded by the lash of a whip; and then a great pain and
bitterness filled my heart, for I felt that my love was hopeless. While
I had rejoiced in loving I thought not of this, but after a time my love
became a desire, an overmastering desire to woo Naomi Penryn, to make
her love me as I loved her.

And this was hopeless. Had she not seen me pilloried as a shameful
vagrant? Had she not seen me persecuted, tormented--the byeword, the
laughing-stock for the offals of Falmouth town? Had I not been pelted by
refuse? Was I not made hideous by disfigurement? How could I win her
love? Then I hated the Tresidder tribe more than ever. They had robbed
me of my home, my heritage, my all, and now through them I must be
loathed by the one, the light of whose eyes burned into my heart like
fire. But more than all this she would be with Nick Tresidder day by
day. He would walk with her, ride with her, talk with her. They would
roam among the woods and pluck the wild flowers that should be mine,
while I--I was hiding from the men who held a whip to lash me.

These thoughts kept me from lying still any longer, so I got up and
walked along under the great trees until I came down to the river.
Perhaps the world can show more beauteous sights than the river which
runs between Truro and Falmouth, but I have my doubts. Nature here is at
the height of her loveliness and spreads her riches with no niggard
hand. For the clear water coils its way through a rich countryside,
where green woods and rich meadows slope down to the river's bank. Here
the flowers come early in the springtime, and scent the air through the
summer; and here, too, winter is tardy in making its appearance, as if
loth to shrivel the shining leaf, or to cause the gaily-painted flower
to wither and die.

Even I, as I stood by the river's bank at early sunrise, torn as my mind
and heart were with conflicting passions, was soothed by the blessedness
of the scene, for my heart lost something of its bitterness and love
became triumphant. But the feeling was not for long. As I stood by the
still water I saw the reflection of myself, and the sight made me more
hopeless than ever. I saw in the water a tall, wild-looking youth, with
bare head, save for a mass of unkempt hair; a face all scratched and
bruised, and made to look savage and repulsive by vindictiveness; the
clothes were dirty, bedraggled and torn, while the riding boots were
torn and muddy.

And Naomi Penryn had seen me thus--ay worse. I went to the river and
washed, and then looked at myself again. My face was still scratched and
bruised, but I had the Pennington features. After all, there was nothing
mean and cunning about them. The eyes were wild, and perhaps fierce, but
they were honest and frank still. The clothes were much worn and torn,
but the body they covered was strong and shapely. There was nothing weak
or shambling in those six feet three inches.

Then I remembered what I had been a year before, and what I had become
through injustice. Could I not make myself worthy? But how? I faced, or
tried to face, facts truthfully. I was without home or friends, if I
except the friendship of Eli Fraddam the gnome, who was at once despised
and feared on every hand. I had no money, I had no clothes. Moreover, I
had no means of getting any. I had no trade; I had no thorough knowledge
of anything save farming, and no farmer dared to hire me. It was true I
had some little experience of fishing, and could manage a boat fairly
well, but not well enough to gain a livelihood by such work.

And yet a love had come into my life for one who was tenderly nurtured,
one doubtless accustomed to abundant riches; I, who was an outcast, a
beggar. And I owed my poverty, my disgrace, to the Tresidders. Let God
who knows all hearts judge whether there was not an excuse for my
hatred. And yet, although the Tresidders had made my very love a seeming
madness, that same love made me see beauty, and led me to hope with a
great hope.

I turned my face toward Pennington, wondering all the while if I should
see Naomi again. For I called her Naomi in my own heart, and to me it
was the sweetest name on earth. I repeated it over to myself again and
again, and the birds, who sang to me overhead, sang to me songs about
her. And as I trudged along, I tried to think again how I should buy
back Pennington, not for revenge, but because of my love. But no ray of
light shone to reveal to me the way. I could see nothing for it but that
I, poor and friendless, must forever remain poor and friendless still.
And yet all the while birds sang love songs and told me of Naomi Penryn.

When I at length saw Elmwater Barton, I began to think of the steps I
must take for my immediate future. I had determined that I would live
within sight of Pennington, but how? Even Betsey Fraddam would be afraid
to give me shelter when she had heard the truth, for Betsey knew Richard
Tresidder's power. For let me tell here that while Betsey was much
sought after, she was hated by many. Betsey admitted to being a witch,
but claimed only to be a white witch. Now as all Cornish folks know,
there is a difference between a white witch and a black witch. A white
witch is one who is endowed by nature to cure by means of charms, and
passes and strange signs. She can also read the future, and find out
secrets about those who do evil. Thus a white witch is looked up to, and
her calling is regarded as lawful, even by the parsons, save of a very
few who are narrow in their notions. A black witch, on the other hand,
is said to have dealings with the evil one, and her power is only gained
by a signed compact with the king of darkness.

Now if Betsey were suspected of the evil eye, and of being a black
witch, her life might be in danger, and if Richard Tresidder as the
chief man in the parish were to turn against her, 'twould go hard with
her. Thus I knew that while Betsey did not love Tresidder she would do
nothing to offend him. Only her love for Eli caused her to give me a
home during the past months, and I knew that now she would not dare to
have me in her house.

Thus I made many plans as to what I should do, and presently I had made
up my mind. My plan was to go into a cave which I knew of, and spend my
days there, and by night I would go to Betsey's house and get food. I
should thus have shelter and food, and I should be near Pennington. I
should also have means of finding out whether Naomi Penryn stayed at
Pennington, as well as other matters which lay near to my heart. What I
should do when winter came on I knew not, neither could I tell how I
could make myself worthy of my love. I felt sure that Richard
Tresidder's great desire was to drive me from Cornwall, and thus be
freed from the sight of one who must always remind him of his fraud. As
for my getting back the home of my fathers, it was out of all question.

So I made my way to the cave. It was called Granfer Fraddam's Cave,
because he died there. Granfer Fraddam had been a smuggler, and it was
believed that he used it to store the things he had been able to obtain
through unlawful means. He was Betsey Fraddam's father, and was reported
to be a very bad man. Rumours had been afloat that at one time he had
sailed under a black flag, and had ordered men to walk a plank
blindfolded. But this was while he was a young man, and no one dared to
reproach him with it even when he grew old. When Granfer was alive the
cave was a secret one, and none of the revenue officers knew of its
existence. Only a few of Granfer's chosen friends knew how to find it.
It was said, too, that he died there while hiding from the Preventive
officers, and that ever since he had haunted the place, and that his
voice might be heard at night calling for food and water, and praying
for vengeance on the King's servants. Rumour also reported that he died
a terrible death, because no clergyman or man of God could get near to
help him from the clutches of the Evil One. As far as I was aware, its
whereabouts was a secret when I was young, although it was generally
supposed to be in what was known as Granfer's Cove, although some said
it fell in at Granfer's death. Anyhow, no one visited it--indeed, such
was my belief at the time, neither was it a pleasant place to reach.
When the tide was up it was difficult to reach by water because of the
great rocks which abounded; besides, you might be within six feet of it
and not see it, because its mouth was so curiously covered.

Eli Fraddam, who seemed to know everything, took me to it by the upper
way; by that I mean the way of the cliff. He also showed me how I might
know it from the beach, and by what rocks I could distinguish it. I did
not enter the cave at the time, at least very far; but I remember that
it was large, and that my voice echoed strangely when I spoke. I
remember, too, that a strange fear was upon me, especially as in the dim
light I saw Eli's strange form and face, and caught the gleams of his
wild cross eyes.

It was to this spot that I determined to go now, and for the time, at
least, rest free from Richard Tresidder's persecutions. I think I should
have gone away altogether at this time, and perchance have tried to
obtain a post as a common sailor, but I remembered Naomi Penryn; and the
yearning that was in my heart to see her again and, if possible, to
speak to her, was so strong, that I was willing to brave anything to be
near her.

Granfer Fraddam's Cave was very lonely. There was not a house within a
long distance of it, and, with the exception of two cottages, Pennington
was the nearest dwelling. I was, therefore, able to get there
unmolested. No one had seen me on my journey, because I had kept to the
woods and fields. I took with me some swede turnips to eat, and when I
had eaten, not thinking of the strange stories told about Granfer's
Cave, I lay down on the shingle and fell asleep and dreamt that I was
the owner of Pennington, and that I went to an old house on the cliffs
to woo Naomi Penryn.

When I awoke I knew not where I was. My mind was strangely confused, and
there was a sound like unto many thunders roaring in my ears. I had a
choking sensation, too, and felt it hard to breathe. Then I felt myself
to be covered with water, while pebbles pelted my face. I struggled to
my feet, and my senses coming to me, I understood the reason. I had not
thought of the tide, which was now rushing into the cave with terrific
force. A great fear got hold of me, and, as fast as I was able, I fled
into the interior of the cavern. It was very dark, but in the darkness I
fancied I saw strange, moving creatures; and at that moment all the
stories told about Granfer Fraddam's evil spirit were true to me. A mad
desire to escape possessed me, but how to do so I did not know. I heard
the waves thundering up the cave, while a terrible wind blew, which
drove me further into the darkness. I dared not venture to go seaward,
so, keeping my hand against the side of the cavern, I allowed myself to
follow the strong current of air. Presently the cave began to get
smaller; indeed, so narrow was it that I could feel both sides at the
same time by stretching out my hands. All the while the wind blew
tremendously. At this I wondered much, for it seemed strange to me that
I should feel the wind when I was so far away from the mouth of the
cave. As I became calmer, I began to understand this. I knew that the
waves as they rushed into the aperture must carry with them a great
force of wind, and that naturally they would force the air inward. Thus
the strong current which blew me further from the sea would indicate
that there was an outlet somewhere. So, unmindful of danger, I followed
the wind-current, and shortly I found myself ascending. The road was
slimy and hard to climb; but I struggled on, and erelong found myself in
a coppice. I looked around me, and remembered the place well. On one
side of the coppice was a meadow which belonged to a fisherman named
Ikey Trethewy--a strange, silent man who spoke but little, and who
possessed a fast-trotting horse. On the other side the coppice sloped up
to the spongy headland, where a curious kind of grass grew, and where
rabbits dug their holes, and frolicked on summer nights.

I had passed by the place often, and had never thought much of it. The
little patch of trees and thick undergrowth which grew in a kind of
sheltered gully seemed of no importance; but now the place possessed a
strong interest for me.

The coppice was much sheltered, but the wind, as it came up the hole
through which I had passed, made a wild, moaning sound, which explained
many of the stories I had heard. It was very dark by this time, and,
although it was summer, the sky was covered with black clouds, and I
heard the wind and sea roaring furiously. By the time I got to the
headland I knew that a storm of great violence was raging. For some time
a feeling of indecision possessed me; then I made my way toward Betsey
Fraddam's cottage.




CHAPTER V

I SEE NAOMI PENRYN ON ROCK CALLED THE SPANISH CAVALIER, AND RESCUE
HER--WE ESCAPE FROM THE TRESIDDERS


When I entered Betsey's cottage, she was sitting with her son beside the
open fireplace, watching a crock which steamed over a wood fire, and
from which came a strange smell.

"'Twas cowld and wet at Granfer's caave, I spoase?" was her first
greeting, after looking at me very carefully.

Now how she knew I had been in the cave I know not, neither will I
pretend to explain; at the same time, I felt rather fearful at the
thought that she should have been aware of the place where I had spent
the day, when no one had told her.

"How do you know where I have been?" I asked.

"How do I knaw?" sneered Betsey; "how do I knaw everything?"

So I said no more, but looked toward a loaf of bread which lay on the
table.

"Iss, you've 'ad nothin' but a swede turmut, and that ed'n rastlin'
mait," said Betsey. "You do look vine and faint, too. 'Ere's summin
that'll do 'ee good, my deear," and going to a cupboard, she took a
two-gallon jar, and poured out a tumbler full of liquor. "There, drink
that," she said, putting it before me.

It was raw spirits, and when I had swallowed one mouthful I could take
no more, it was too strong for me.

"Aw, aw!" laughed Betsey; "'tes nearly as strong as the broth I do make,
ed'n et, then? Here, Eli, put some milk in the pan, and het it for 'un.
He was in the pillory yesterday, and he seed Richard Trezidder and Neck
Trezidder and Emily Trezidder, and another maid, a very purty one. Then
'ee runned away, and after that he got to Granfer Fraddam's Cave. Make a
good quart of eggiot for 'un, Eli. That'll be better'n sperrits. He's
too waik for that."

Then Eli got the milk, and began to beat up eggs in a basin, grunting
strangely, while he watched me with his strange, wild-looking eyes. But
I did not speak, for Betsey made me afraid; besides, I felt cold and
ill.

"I knaw what you be thinking," said Betsey; "you be wonderin' how I got
so much sperrits. Well, p'raps I shall tell 'ee zoon. We sh'll zee,
Jasper, we sh'll zee." And with that the old crone chuckled.

Then Eli came to me, and felt me, and fondled me. He smoothed my wrists
where they had been bruised the day before, and got some ointment which
he rubbed around my neck. Then, when the milk and egg was ready, he
poured it in a huge basin, and put it before me.

"I'd 'a killed 'un ef you wos dead," he repeated many times, until I
wondered at his apparent love for me.

When I had drunk what Eli had prepared I felt better. My head began to
get clear again, and my strength came back to me.

"Naow," wheedled Betsey, when I had finished, "tell me oal about et.
Tell me, Jasper, my deear."

"You know everything," I replied.

"No, not everything; tell me, for ould Betsey'll ave to 'elp 'ee, my
deear."

So I told her everything, save my love for Naomi Penryn; of that I could
not speak to her, it was a secret for my own heart, and I vowed that I
would never tell of it until I poured the words in the sweet maid's own
ears. At that time I felt sure that the story of my love would remain
forever untold.

"Do 'ee knaw what this do main, Jasper?" said Betsey, when I had
finished.

"He bait 'em boath, boath!" laughed Eli, gleefully.

"Now, Eli," said Betsey, "hark to Jasper, and hark to me. Now tell me,
Jasper."

"I think I know," I said.

"He mustn't knaw that you've come back to St. Eve," said Betsey. "I tell
'ee, you musn't show yer faace. 'Ee'll never rest till you'm out ov the
way. You'll jist be found dead some day, tha's wot'll 'appen. Ef 'ee
caan't do et with the law 'ee'll do et wi'out."

"Yes," I said.

"Well, wot be 'ee goin' to do?"

"I'll go back to Granfer Fraddam's Cave. No one can find me there."

"Tha's true, but what 'bout yer mait?"

"I'll bring 'un mait," said Eli. "I'll bring 'un mait. I knaw, I knaw!"
And the poor gnome laughed joyfully.

"But that caan't last," said Betsey. "Two months more an' winter'll be
'ere. Besides, you caan't git back Pennington by stayin' in a cave. You
knaw what you promised your vather, Jasper; you zaid you wudden rest
night nor day 'till you got back Pennington."

"I remember," I said.

"Bezides," cried Betsey--then she stopped, and looked at me steadily.
She had keen, whitey-gray eyes, which shone very brightly. "Do'ee knaw
who thicky maid wos that you zeed in Fa'muth 'esterday?"

I shook my head.

"Purty, ed'n she?" sniggered Betsey. "She's for Nick Trezidder, my
deear, tha's wot she's for. Her vather an' mawther's dead, my deear, and
she've got piles o' money, an' Richard Trezidder es 'er guardian, an'
they main 'er to marry Nick. Her vather was Squire Penryn, my deear, an'
'ee was killed, an' 'er mawther died a bit agone, so the Trezidders 'ev
got 'er body and soul."

"How do you know?" I asked.

"'Ow do I knaw!" sneered Betsey. "'Ow do I knaw everything?" and this
was the way she always answered when I asked her such a question.

"Where is her home?" I asked.

"Where? Up the country somewhere on the north coast. A big 'ous cloas to
the say, my deear."

"But Penryn is close to Falmouth."

"'Nother branch ov the fam'ly, my deear; but ther', she nothin' to you.
She's good, she's purty, an' she's rich, but she's for Nick Trezidder.
Thews Trezidders do bait the Penningtons, don't 'em?" And Betsey laughed
again.

But I held my tongue. I determined that I would not tell the secret of
my heart, although Betsey's words hurt me like knife-stabs.

"Well, an' when winter do come, what be 'ee goin' to do then, Jasper,
an' 'ow be 'ee goin' to git 'nough to buy back Pennington?"

"I must think, Betsey," I said. "I must think. But I'll do it--I'll do
it!"

"Aisy spok, but not so aisy done. How?"

"I'll help 'un," said Eli.

"You! 'Ow can you 'elp 'un?"

But Eli only hugged himself and laughed, as though he were tickled.
After that but little was said that I can remember.

Before daylight came I went back to the cave. I was sure that neither
Betsey nor Eli would tell of my hiding-place. I was glad for this,
because I knew that if Dick Tresidder knew where I was I should be taken
back to the whipping-post, and perhaps imprisoned. Besides, I was sure
that he feared me, and that he would do everything in his power to make
me suffer. So I determined to stay in Granfer Fraddam's Cave as long as
I could, and I knew that Eli would find out everything about what went
on at Pennington and tell me. Looking back now, my conduct seems foolish
in the extreme. I could do no good by staying in the cave, I could not
get an inch nearer my purpose. It would have been far more sensible to
have sailed to some distant land and sought for fortune. And I will
admit that I was tempted to do this, and should have left St. Eve, but
for a strange longing to stay near Pennington, knowing as I did that
Naomi Penryn was there, and that, although I had never spoken to her, I
loved the dear maid every hour of my life more and more.

One day, I think it was about a week after I had taken up my abode in
the cave, I was sitting at its mouth and looking across the narrow bay,
and watching the tide come up, when I was strangely startled. I remember
that in dreaming of Naomi Penryn a feeling of despair had come into my
heart, for I saw no chance whatever of ever seeing her again, much less
speaking to her. Besides, even if it were possible for me to win her
love I had no right to do so. Pennington seemed further from my grasp
than ever, while Richard Tresidder's hold on it grew stronger day by
day. I was thinking of these things when I saw, two or three hundred
yards out at sea, standing on a rock, a woman's form. The rock was a
large one, and went by the name of "The Spanish Cavalier." It rose from
the beach to the height of fifteen feet, and was never covered save at
high tides. There was, moreover, a curious place in the rock, not unlike
an arm-chair, in which one might sit and watch the shining waves. All
around it was grouped a number of smaller rocks, which boatmen always
avoided, because driving on them was dangerous.

As I said, I saw on "The Spanish Cavalier" a woman's form, and above the
sound of the breakers I heard a cry for help. I did not hurry to the
rescue, for the delay of a few seconds could make no difference, the
rock was now several feet under water; besides, I was not sure what it
meant. At first I could not discern who the woman was, and fancied it
might be one of the Misses Archer, or perhaps Richard Tresidder's
daughter. But then, I thought, they would know the coast, and would not
allow themselves to be caught by the tide in such a way. On looking
again, however, my heart gave a great leap--the woman on the rock was
Naomi Penryn. A feeling of joy surged through me. At last I had my
chance, I should be able to speak to her without let or hindrance. As I
have before stated, the cave had but few houses near. Ikey Trethewy's
cottage stood at some little distance away from the coppice where the
land entrance to the cave had been made, but it was not visible from
"The Spanish Cavalier;" another cottage stood further along the coast,
but that was more than a mile away; while the other house was
Pennington, which was nearly two miles off. Seemingly, there was no
other help than my own near, and I rejoiced that it was so. There was no
real danger, but she needed my help, and that was all I cared for. So I
plunged into the water and was able to wade nearly all the way to the
rock. She saw me coming toward her, and I think my presence gave her
confidence.

"Do not be afraid," I said, as I came up; "there is no danger. I can
easily take you to the shore."

By this time, only my head was visible above the water, but she
recognised me. I saw that she shrank from me, too, as though she were
afraid. At this a coldness crept into my heart, for I remembered where I
stood at the only time she had seen me before.

"I will not hurt you," I said; "I know my way among the rocks, and I can
take you easily."

She looked at me again, doubtfully. Most likely she remembered what the
Tresidders had said about me.

"I will be very careful," I went on; "and you had better come quickly,
for the tide is rising every minute. I know you distrust me, for the
Tresidders hate me; but if I did not desire to help you I should not
have let you see me, for when they know where I am I shall be in
danger."

She lifted her head proudly as though I had angered her, then she looked
at me again steadily, and came toward me.

"Is the water very deep?" she asked.

"It is over five feet here," I replied, "but it is shallower a few
yards nearer the shore."

"You are sure you can swim with me to shore?" she said.

"I shall not try," I said. "If you will let me, I will hold you above my
head. You are not heavy and I--" Then I hesitated, for I did not want to
boast.

"Yes, I know you are very strong," she laughed, half fearfully I
thought; "but how can you do this?"

"Look," I said; "if you will stand on my shoulders so"--and I placed my
back against the rock. "I am afraid your feet will have to be wet, just
a little, for my shoulders are in the water. There, that is it; now hold
my hands," and I lifted my hands as high above my head as I could.

She did as I bade her; thus we both stood with our faces toward the
shore, she standing on my shoulders and stooping a little in order to
hold my hands tightly.

It was joy unspeakable to feel the little fingers in mine, for this was
the first time that my flesh touched hers, and with the touch a thrill
of gladness, the like of which I had never felt before, passed through
my whole being.

I carried her safely. At that time rocks and roaring breakers were
nothing to me, the buffeting of the waves against my body I felt not one
whit! I think she must have felt my great strength, for when I had
carried her a few yards she laughed, and the laugh had no fear.

"You feel quite safe?" I asked presently, when I had got away from the
rocks.

"Quite safe," she said, and so I carried her on until I stood on the
smooth yellow sands, and although the waves still broke, I felt their
force not at all, for the thought of her trusting me made my sinews
like willow thongs.

Right sorry was I when the water no longer touched my feet, and I must
confess that I lingered over the last part of the journey, so pleasant
was my burden, and so glad a thing was it to feel her fingers fastening
themselves around mine. Perhaps she regarded me as she might regard a
fisherman who might have rendered her a similar service, but it did not
matter. I, whom she had seen pilloried as a vagrant and a street
brawler, held her fast, and my love grew stronger minute by minute.

When I put her on the sands, only her feet were wet, and no one could
tell of the position in which she had been.

I shook myself after I had put her down, and I was almost sorry I had
done so immediately afterward, for I could see that my condition made
her sorry for me, and I did not want to be pitied.

"You must get dry clothes at once," she said.

"I have none," I said, unthinkingly, "save my jacket and waistcoat,
which lie on yon rock."

"But you will be very cold."

I laughed gaily. "It is nothing," I said, "the sun will not go down for
three hours yet, and before that time my rags will be dry."

"I am very thankful to you," she said; "I cannot swim, and but for you I
should have been drowned."

"Oh, no," I replied; "you could have climbed to the top of the rock, and
waited till the tide went out again."

"No, I should have been afraid. You have been very kind and very good to
me. I was very foolish to get there, but it was very tempting to climb
on the rock and sit and watch the sea. I must have fallen asleep in the
sun, for I remembered nothing until I felt the cold water beat on me."

"I was not kind or good," I said, roughly. "I thought first it was Emily
Tresidder. Had it been, I should not have gone."

"Yes, you would," she said; "you have a kind face. Besides, you should
not hate the Tresidders. Mr. Tresidder is my guardian."

"I am sorry for you," I said.

She looked at me steadily, but did not speak.

"I know what you are thinking about," I said. "I was pilloried at
Falmouth when you saw me before, and I just escaped being flogged before
the crowd. Even now, I suppose, I am being searched for."

"Indeed you are. Do you think you are safe in staying here?"

"It doesn't matter, I suppose; I shall soon be taken."

"Why do you think so?"

"You will, of course, tell Tresidder where I am, and then my liberty
must soon come to an end."

I hated myself for speaking so, for I saw her lips tremble, as though I
had pained her.

"Is not that unkind?" she said, presently, "and do you not judge the
Tresidders wrongly? Have you not provoked them to anger?"

"They have told you about me, then; they have told you that I am a
thief, a vagabond, a bully?"

She did not reply, but I knew from the look on her face that I had
spoken the truth.

For a second there was a silence between us, then she said, "I thank you
very much, and now I must go back to Pennington."

"Not until you hear my story," I said, eagerly.

"Why should you tell me?" she asked.

"Because I do not wish you to judge me wrongly," I said; "because you
have known me only as one who is evil and revengeful. Let me tell you
the truth."

She did not speak, but she looked at me as if expecting me to go on. So
I told her my story eagerly, told it truly, as I have tried to tell it
here, only in fewer words.

"And this is true?" she asked, eagerly. "That is," she said, correcting
herself, "you are sure you are not mistaken?"

"As God lives, it is true," I replied. "Is it any wonder, then, that I
hate the Tresidders, is it any wonder that I should thrash them as I
would thrash a yelping, biting cur?"

"Is it brave for a strong man to pounce upon a weaker one?" she asked.

"They were two to one," I replied; "besides, the street was full of
people, and he has everything on his side, and I am alone, an outcast, a
beggar in my own parish."

"But he has the law on his side."

"Yes; and he has twisted the law to serve his own ends. He and his
mother have used vile tools to cheat me."

"And if you could save up half the worth of Pennington you could buy it
back."

"I could demand to buy it back. Lawyer Trefry has the copy of the will.
I have seen it. That is why they have tried to ruin me."

"And do you say that Nick tried to stab you?" she asked, anxiously.

"I have the knife yet," I replied. "His name is on it. I trusted him to
wrestle fair, even though he sought to ruin me. Perhaps I was wrong to
hurt him, but I was mad with pain. The mark of the wound is on my chest
now. Look," and I showed her the scar.

She shuddered, then she said, "Hate always brings misery, and love
always brings joy. You should love your enemies."

"Yes; if a man will fight openly and fairly, I will not hate him. If I
wanted to touch an adder with my hand I would not catch him by the tail
so that it could curl around and sting my hand; I would catch it just
behind the head. It might writhe and wriggle, but I should know that it
could not bite me. That is how I want to treat the Tresidders. You
despise me," I went on; "you see me now a thing that has to hide like a
rabbit in burrow. Well, perhaps it is natural--you live with the
Tresidders."

"No, I do not despise you," she said. "I feel for you; I am an orphan
just as you are. Of course, Mr. Tresidder is very kind to me, but
Pennington is not like home--that is--" Then she stopped as though she
had said more than she had intended. "I felt sorry for you when I saw
you in Falmouth. Did--did you see me?"

"I saw you--I--I--look, there is Nick Tresidder and his father coming
now. I must away!"

We were only partially hidden by the rock, at the side of which we
stood. I could see them with sufficient clearness for me to recognise
them. They could see us, but I did not think it would be possible for
them to tell who we were.

"They are searching for me," she cried. "I have been away from the house
a long time."

"Well, go to them," I said.

"But they have seen that there are two of us. Do you think they know us
from this distance?"

"No, we have been partly hidden."

"But if I go, they will ask who has been with me."

"Do you not wish to tell them?"

"If I do you will be in danger. If they know you are near you will be
hunted down. They think you have left the country."

"You can save me if you will," I cried, eagerly.

"I will do what I can!"

"Come, then--there, keep behind these rocks until we get to the cliffs.
Go quickly."

She obeyed me eagerly, and a few seconds later we stood behind a great
jagged promontory.

"Did they see us, do you think?"

"Yes, they saw us, but they could not have recognised us; or I fancy
not," I added, for I had my fears; "but come, walk on the shingle so
that they cannot trace your footsteps. That is it."

We came close to the cave where my clothes lay. These I picked up with a
feeling of relief.

"We are safe now," I said.

"No," she cried; "they will soon come up, and can easily find us."

For she had not seen the mouth of Granfer Fraddam's Cave, although it
was close to her. I was glad of this, for it told me how safe my
hiding-place was, and showed that the opening was so curiously hidden
that a stranger might pass it a hundred times and not see it. So I
helped her to climb up the cliff until I got to a small platform, and
afterward passed along the fissure between the rocks and drew her after
me, and then, when she had followed me a few steps, she saw how
cunningly Nature had concealed the place, and fearful as she was, she
uttered a low exclamation of pleased surprise. For from this place we
could see without being seen, even although we were not inside the cave
itself.

Excited as I was, for my heart was beating fast and my head throbbed at
the same rate, I wondered at my good fortune in making her my friend.
For her willingness to come with me, rather than to expose me to the
Tresidders, showed that she was my friend, and my gladness at the
thought was beyond all words. At the same time I could not help fearing
for her. If either Nick Tresidder or his father had recognised her, she
would be exposed to many awkward questionings, which would be hard for
her to answer; neither did I desire that she should have to suffer for
me. I marvelled greatly, too, that she should have understood the
situation so easily, and that, in spite of all my enemies must have
said, she seemed to trust me so implicitly. I remembered, however, that
she would, perhaps, feel grateful to me for rescuing her from her
awkward position on "The Spanish Cavalier," and that she would be
anxious that my action should not bring any harm to me. And while this
thought did not bring me so much pleasure as it ought, it showed me that
the Tresidders had not altogether poisoned her mind against me.

Although it has taken me some minutes to write down these thoughts, they
passed through my mind very rapidly.

"They cannot see us here," she said, questioningly, "neither can they
find us?"

"Not unless they know the cave," I replied.

"Oh, I hope not," was her response, and although Tresidder was her
guardian and Pennington was her home, it did not feel strange at that
moment that she should be hiding with me, who was being sought for by
the minions of the law.

The sea was by this time getting nearer the foot of the cliff, and there
was now only twenty feet of shingle between water and land. So I stood
and watched, but I could not as yet see them, for the promontory, behind
which we had first hidden, stood between us and them.

"Do you see them?"

"Not yet," I replied, "they have had scarcely time to get here yet, but
I think they will soon be here."

As I spoke I looked on her face, the most beauteous I had ever seen, and
when I remembered what she had done to shield me my love grew more
fervent. For I had no claim on her, who was a stranger, save that I had
carried her to the shore, which of course was nothing. By that I mean to
say it was nothing for which she should serve me; rather it was I who
owed gratitude to her, for my joy at serving her made my heart leap in
my bosom, until I could even then have sung aloud for gladness.

"Are they coming?" she asked again, presently.

"Yes, they are close to us," I replied, for at that moment they had
passed the rock by which we had at first stood.




CHAPTER VI

I DISCOVER ANOTHER CAVE, AND HEAR A CONVERSATION BETWEEN RICHARD
TRESIDDER AND HIS SON


"I am sure I saw a man and woman," I heard Nick Tresidder say.

"I thought I did, too," replied his father; "but we must have been
mistaken, I suppose. Of course, they could have got behind Great Bear
and then kept along under the cliff."

"Then they must have gone past, for they are nowhere to be seen."

"Perhaps they wanted to hurry to be before the tide."

"Yes; I suppose that must be it," replied Nick, doubtfully.

"Still, I don't know that it matters. We should not have troubled at all
if we hadn't thought it might be Naomi."

"No; where can she be, I wonder?"

"She's a strange girl, Nick. She doesn't seem to feel happy at
Pennington, neither does she make friends with Emily. She's always
roaming among the woods or along the beach. I shouldn't wonder at all if
she hasn't lost herself among the woods. You must be careful, my lad."

"Oh, it's all right, there's no danger. I say, do you know that Jacob
Buddie told me he believed he saw Jasper Pennington in the lane outside
Betsey Fraddam's house last night?"

"I don't believe it; we've got rid of him effectually. But we must hurry
on, Nick, we've just time to get to Granfer Fraddam's path before the
tide gets in."

"Yes, it's a good way on. Isn't Granfer Fraddam's Cave here somewhere?"

"I've my doubts whether there is such a place. There may have been such
a cave in the old man's time, but lots of ground has fallen in during
the past fifty years. Anyhow, I've often searched along the coast and
could never find it."

"But it's around here that the noises have been heard. You know people
say it's haunted by the old man's ghost."

"Well, I've never been able to find it."

They hurried on, and I gave a sigh of relief.

"Are they gone?" asked Naomi.

"Yes, they are gone; they don't know anything. It will take them a long
while to get home. It's a long way to Pennington by Granfer Fraddam's
path. The cliff is steep, too."

"But I must go now," she said, anxiously.

"You shall get home before they can," I said, eagerly.

"I will take you through another opening. You will know another secret
of this cave then. You see, I trust you wholly, and you will know my
hiding-place almost as well as I know it myself."

"But do you live here?"

Then I told her what I had to do, and how Eli Fraddam brought food to
me, and how when winter came I should have to make other plans.

She listened quietly, and said no word, but allowed me to lead her up
the cave until we reached the copse of which I have spoken. We were
still hidden from sight, for the bushes grew thick, and the trees were
large and had abundant foliage. She held out her hand to say good-bye.

"I shall remember your kindness," she said.

"And do not think too hardly about me," I pleaded, "remember what I have
had to suffer."

"I shall think of you very kindly," was her response; "not that it
matters to you," she added. "We are strangers, most probably we shall
never meet again, and the opinion of a stranger cannot help you."

"It is more than you can think," I answered, eagerly. "When I saw that
look of sympathy on your face when I stood in the pillory at Falmouth it
made everything easier to bear. Besides, you say you will stay at
Pennington, and I look upon Pennington as my home."

"Yes; but surely you will not stay here. It cannot be right for a man to
idle away his time as you are idling it; besides, you can never win back
Pennington thus. If I were you I would find work, and I would honourably
make my way back to fortune."

"But the Tresidders will not allow me," I replied, stung into shame by
her words, "they have always put obstacles in my path."

"Then I would go where the Tresidders could not harm me," she cried, and
then she went away, as though I were the merest commonplace stranger, as
indeed I was.

I mused afterward that she did not even tell me her name, although she
had no means of knowing that I had found it out, neither did she tell me
that she would keep the secret of my hiding-place from my enemies. And
more than all this, she bade me leave St. Eve, where I should be away
from her, although my longings grew stronger to stay by her side. All
this made me very weary of life, and I went back to the mouth of the
cave and sat watching the sea as it rose higher and higher around "The
Spanish Cavalier," and wondered with a weary heart what I should do.

When night came on Eli Fraddam brought me food, and sat by me while I
ate it, looking all the while up into my face with his strange wild
eyes.

"Jasper missuble," he grunted, presently.

"Yes, Eli," I said, "everything and everybody is against me."

"I knaw! I knaw!" cried Eli, as though a new thought had struck him,
"I'll 'elp 'ee, Jasper; I'll vind out!"

"Find out what, Eli?"

But he would not answer. He hugged himself as though he were vastly
pleased, and laughed, in his low guttural way, and after a time took his
departure.

When I was left alone, I tried to think of my plans for the future, for
Naomi's words kept ringing in my ears, "If I were you I would find work,
and I would honourably make my way back to fortune." I saw now that for
a year I had acted like a madman. Instead of meeting my reverses
bravely, I had acted like a coward. I had sunk in the estimation of
others as well as in my own. I had loafed around the lanes, and had made
friends with the idle and the dissolute. Even my plans for vengeance
were those of a savage. I, Jasper Pennington, could think of no other
way of punishing my enemies than by mastering them with sheer brute
force. Besides, all the time I had made no step toward winning back my
home, and thus obeying my father's wishes. I felt this, too; I had
deservedly lost the esteem of the people. I had become what the
Tresidders said I was. I saw myself a vagrant and a savage, and although
my fate had been hard, I deserved the punishment I was then suffering. I
had forgotten that I was a Pennington, forgotten that I was a gentleman.

But what could I do? Houseless, homeless, friendless, except for the
friendship of Eli Fraddam and his mother, and practically outlawed, what
was there that I, Jasper Pennington, could put my hand to? I could not
tell. The possibility of honourably making my way back to fortune seemed
a dream impossible to be fulfilled.

For a long time I sat brooding, while the candle which Eli had brought
burnt lower and lower, and finally went out. The darkness stirred new
thoughts within me. Hitherto I had not troubled about Granfer Fraddam's
ghost haunting the cave. The wind which wailed its way up through the
cave till it found vent in the copse above explained the sounds which
had been heard. But now all the stories which I had heard came back to
me. Did Granfer Fraddam die there? and did his ghost haunt this dreary
cavern? Even then I might be sitting on the very spot where he had died.

I started up and lit another candle. I looked around me, and shuddered
at the black, forbidding sides of the cavern, then leaving the candle to
cast its ghostly light around I crept toward the entrance. I saw the sea
lapping the black rocks around, and heard its dismal surge. Then I heard
a rushing noise whir past me, and it seemed as though a ghostly hand had
struck my face. Directly afterward I heard a cry which made the blood
run cold in my veins. Most likely it was only a seagull which I had
frightened from its resting-place among the rocks, but to me it was the
shriek of a lost soul.

Trembling, I found my way back to the cave again, where the candle still
burnt, and cast its flickering light around. I was afraid to stay there
any longer, and determined to get out by way of the copse. I had gone
but a few steps in this direction, when I saw what had hitherto escaped
my notice. It was a hole in the side of the cave, large enough for
anybody to pass easily. For a moment curiosity overcame my fears, and I
made my way toward it. Holding my candle close to the hole, I found that
I was out of the current of air, and I saw that this was the entrance to
another cave. But it was different from the one in which I had been
hiding. It looked as though it had been hollowed out by the hands of man
rather than by nature. This fact lessened my ghostly fears, and I
entered it, and in doing so thought I detected a strange smell. A minute
later, and my astonishment knew no bounds. Lying at my feet in this
inner cave were casks of spirits and wines. There were, I afterward
discovered, many other things there too. There were great packages of
tobacco, and bales of stuff which at that time I did not understand. It
was evident that Granfer Fraddam's trade was not abandoned, although it
was thought that smuggling was not carried on to any extent in the
neighbourhood of St. Eve. It is true that many things were obtained in
the neighbourhood which the Preventive officers could not account for,
but that was understood to be owing to Jack Truscott's gang, who defied
the law, and did many wild deeds down by the Lizard and at Kynance. At
Polventor the Preventive men were very keen, so keen were they that the
dozen or two fishermen who lived there were not, as far as I knew, in
any way suspected of unlawful deeds. And Polventor was the only fishing
village within three miles of our parish where it seemed possible for
smuggling to be carried on.

Not that we thought hardly of the smugglers, even of Jack Truscott and
his men. We all regarded the law as very unjust, and owing to the fact
that many things were obtained in the parish very cheaply by them, we
winked at their doings, and looked sourly on the Preventive men and
their doings. At the same time, as far as I knew, no one dreamed of
smuggling being carried on near the coast of St. Eve. Thus it was that
Granfer Fraddam's Cave was a mere tradition, and many people thought
that the King's officers ought to be removed to some other part of the
coast, where there would be some necessity for their existence.

I thought long of these things, and presently came to the conclusion
that this cave was used as a kind of storage-place by some smuggler's
gang. Probably this was one of Jack Truscott's many hiding-places, and
would be used by him when the Government spies were busy watching
elsewhere.

Anyhow, my discovery made me think of the cave more as the home of the
living than the dead, and thus fears were dispelled. It is true my
solitude might at any time be broken by a gang of desperate men, but
that did not trouble me. So I fetched the blanket which old Betsey had
lent me and took it into this inner cave, and after a while went to
sleep.

Eli Fraddam brought some food to me again in the morning, but I did not
tell him what I had discovered through the night, neither did I
encourage him to stay. Usually he had sat with me for hours, and had
talked with me in his strange disconnected way, but this morning he saw
that I wanted to be alone, so, after patting and fondling my hands
lovingly, he left me. All through the day I tried to make up my mind
what to do, but no feasible plan came into my mind. I did not fear any
difficulty in getting food and clothes, but how to raise money to buy
back Pennington I knew not.

Toward evening I left the cave and clambered down the rocks until I got
to the beach. I had scarcely done so when a package lying by a rock
caught my eye. I tore off the wrapper, wondering what it was, and soon
discovered that it contained food. I eagerly examined it, and presently
saw a scrap of clean white paper. On it was written these words:


     "To stay where you are must be useless. Search has not been
     abandoned, for you have been seen. There can be no hope of success
     while you remain in St. Eve. You saved me, and I would help you.
     Good-bye."


Now this comforted me greatly, for it told me that Naomi Penryn had not
forgotten me, and that she felt friendly toward me. The food, delicate
as it was compared with what I had been eating, I cared not for, except
only because she had brought it. My excitement took away all desire to
eat, and again I went back to the cave to think of what I should do. For
this thought came constantly into my mind, the Tresidders intended her
for Nick, and my determination was that she should never marry a
Tresidder. Moreover, I fancied, from her own words, and from what I had
heard Richard Tresidder say to his son, she was not happy at Pennington.
If I went away I should be powerless to help her if she needed help.
She was but a girl of eighteen, and she was wholly under the control of
the Tresidders. Yet how could I help her by remaining where I was; nay,
rather, it was impossible for me to do this.

After some time I settled on a plan; I would leave my cave before it was
light, and would walk to Fowey. When there, I would try and get a place
as a sailor. I thought I knew enough of a sailor's duties to satisfy the
captain of a trading ship. Then, by the time the first voyage was over,
I should no longer be sought by the Tresidders, and the affair at
Falmouth would be forgotten. I would then come back and see if Naomi
Penryn needed help. I should not be away more than a few months, and I
did not think that Nick Tresidder or his father would seek to carry out
their plans concerning her for at least a year.

I had scarcely settled this in my mind when I heard voices outside the
cave. Wondering what it might mean I crept to the opening, and, looking
out, saw Richard Tresidder and his son, Nick, standing and talking with
two Preventive men. A great rock hid me from their sight, besides which
I was at least twelve feet above them.

"You say you've searched all around here for a cave?" asked Richard
Tresidder.

"All round, sur," replied one of the officers. "Ther's smugglin' done
'long 'ere right 'nough, but I've my doubts 'bout Granfer Fraddam's
Caave as et es called. Ther's not an inch 'long the coast here that we
'ain't a-seed; we've found lots of caaves, but nothin' like people do
talk about. As for this cove, where people say et es, why look for
yerself, sur, ther's no sign of it. We can see every yard of the little
bay here, but as fer Granfer Fraddam's Caave, well, that's all wind,
I'm a-thinkin'."

"I'm of the same opinion myself. Still, I thought we'd better come and
make sure, that was why I asked you to come."

"That's oal right, sur, glad are we to do anything to 'elp 'ee. But
ther's plaaces furder down, sur, and they must be watched."

"Do you not think you are mistaken?" I heard Richard Tresidder say;
"there has been no smuggling done here since Granfer Fraddam's days.
There is plenty of it done at the Lizard, and at Kynance, and right down
to St. Michael's Mount to Penzance Harbour, but there is none here."

"But there es, Maaster Tresidder. Not a week agone a boat-load of
sperits was landed at Polventor."

"At Polventor! Why, I thought you kept a sharp look-out there. Besides,
only fisher folk live there."

"'Iss, but tes they fishermen that do do et. Ye see, they go out so they
zay to catch fish, and then afore mornin' they do come across the big
smugglers' boats, and taake the things to the coves they do know 'bout.
They be all of a piece, Maaster Tresidder."

"Well, keep a sharp look-out, Grose, and bring them before me, and I'll
see that they don't do any more smuggling for a few months."

"I'm glad we've 'ad this 'ere talk, sur, you bein' a majistraate. But we
must be off, sur."

"Good-afternoon. By the way, if you call at Pennington to-night about
ten I shall be glad to see you. You will perhaps be able to report
progress by that time."

"Thank 'ee kindly, sur. Good afternoon."

Richard Tresidder and his son Nick then sat down on a rock near, and
both began to smoke, and then, when the Preventive officers were out of
sight, they laughed merrily.

"I wonder if they know that the grog they have drunk at Pennington was
made of smuggled brandy?" asked the father.

"Not they. Why, you are noted for your hardness on law-breakers."

"Just so. By the way, you have heard no more about Jasper, I suppose? I
heard last night he was hiding in Granfer Fraddam's Cave, that was why I
got those fellows to search for the place."

"Nothing definite. It's believed that he's around here somewhere, but
where I don't know. The fellow is mad, I think. It would be better for
him to clear off altogether. The sentence is a flogging and then another
trial, isn't it?"

"Yes; but nothing is being done. I believe if he were caught he would be
allowed to go free. I don't believe they want to catch him."

"You see, the people think he's been badly treated, and Lawyer Trefry
has blabbed about old Pennington's will. Everybody says now that you've
done your utmost to keep him poor. Why in the world didn't grandmother
get him to give it you out and out? If the beggar should have a stroke
of luck he might get it for a few thousands."

"But where can he get them now? His last chance is gone. What can a lad,
without money, home, or friends, do? That's settled all right."

"I don't know about that. He's clever and he's determined. Why did he
continue to stay around here? He must have something in his mind."

"He's a fool, that's all. He has a savage sort of idea that by watching
me he's taking care of his own interests. That shows what a
short-sighted fellow he is. If he'd brains he'd have acted otherwise.
You will see, he'll get himself in the clutches of the law again, and
then--I'll manage him."

"But if we can't find him? I tell you Jasper isn't a fool, and he knows
our purposes by this time."

"Well, Nick, you've got your chance. A rich wife and three years to win
her in, my boy. I'm her guardian till she's twenty-one, and I'll take
care no one else gets her. A pretty girl is Naomi, too; rather awkward
to manage, and a bit fiery, but all the better to suit you."

"And she doesn't like me," replied Nick.

"Make her like you, my boy. Be a bit diplomatic, and play to win.
Besides, you must win!"

"Did you notice how funny she was last night? I asked her where she had
been, and she seemed to regard my question as a liberty. And did you see
how eager she was when we were talking about Jasper afterward?"

"But she knows nothing about him. She never saw him."

"Yes, she saw him pilloried in Falmouth. She thinks him treated badly.
She has all sorts of funny ideas about justice."

"Of course, all silly girls have; that's nothing. At the same time,
Nick, this shows you must play carefully. I don't want any complications
in getting her money, and mind you, that money I must have, or we are
all in deep water."

"What do you mean?"

"This. We can't raise sixpence, that is legally, on Pennington. There
are simply the rents. Well, this split up into several parts is very
little. So--" he hesitated.

"So what?" asked Nick, eagerly.

"I've speculated."

"On what?"

"On mines. So far, they've turned out badly. I'm involved in a heavy
outlay. At first the affair seemed certain. It may turn out all right
now, I don't know, but I tell you I'm neck deep--neck deep. I can hold
on for a year or so, and you must get Naomi's money, or I'm done for."

"But you've got her money?"

"Yes, and, as her guardian, I'll have to give an account of it."

"Look here, father, tell me all about it. I don't like acting in the
dark. How and why did Naomi come to Pennington, and what is the true
condition of affairs? I want to know."

"Another time, Nick."

"No, now."

"Very well, I may as well tell you now."




CHAPTER VII

I HEAR RICHARD TRESIDDER TELL NAOMI PENRYN'S HISTORY, AND AM IN DANGER
OF BEING KILLED BY SMUGGLERS


Richard Tressider slowly filled his pipe again, and seemed to be
collecting his thoughts before telling his son what was in his mind.

"Her home, as you know, is at Trevose, not far from Trevose Head," he
said, presently. "The house is a funny old place--as lonely as a
churchyard and as bleak as a mountain peak. It seems a strange idea to
build a big house like that on a rocky eminence, but the Penryns have
always been a strange people. However, it is said that the Penryn who
built the house back in Oliver Cromwell's days kept ships for strange
purposes, and that he had curious dealings with 'gentlemen of fortune.'"

"Pirates do you mean?"

"Better let them be unnamed. Anyhow, from the tower of the house you can
see many miles up and down the coast--as far as Bude Harbour on the one
hand, and Gurnard's Head on the other. There is some very good land
belonging to the estate, too."

"Much?" asked Nick.

"More than belongs to Pennington by a long way, my boy. The rents are
handsome, I can assure you."

"Well, go on."

"The Penryns have always been a hot-tempered, impatient race, and
Naomi's father was no exception to the rule. He was the only child, too,
and from what I can gather spoiled. Well, he waited until he was over
thirty before he got married; indeed, both his parents were dead before
he saw Naomi's mother. By the time a man is thirty his habits are
settled, and he's generally unfit for marriage; people should marry at
twenty-five at latest."

"And who was Naomi's mother?"

"She was a widow of a cousin of mine, George Tresidder of Lelant."

"Well?"

"Well, she had what most women possess, a nasty, rasping, irritating
tongue, and a temper that would have done credit to Beelzebub's wife, if
there is such a lady. I know that, because I've had several interviews
with her. I've managed a good many women in my day, but never one who
was so difficult as she. Anyhow, John Penryn and she lived a cat-and-dog
life. John, I suppose, was a fine fellow in his way, but imperious,
impatient, and at times unreasonable. He couldn't bear being crossed,
and she was everlastingly crossing him. He was the soul of generosity,
and directly after his marriage made a most generous will. He left
everything unconditionally to his wife."

"Go on, you are awfully slow," cried Nick.

"They had been married about seven months when a terrible thing
happened. You were very young at the time, and would, of course, know
nothing about it. Penryn had a fearful quarrel with his wife. It was
simply terrible, and the servants were very much frightened, especially
as John's wife was expected to become a mother. Anyhow, she taunted him
with being unfaithful to her, and irritated him so with invective and
abuse that, forgetting everything, he tried to crush her by brute force.
Of course, in her state this was a mad thing to do, especially as she
was very weak and delicate; anyhow, she fell like one dead on the floor.
A doctor was sent for, and he declared that life was extinct. I suppose
the poor fellow's anguish was terrible; anyhow, when he heard of the
doctor's words, he seemed to lose his senses altogether. That night he
committed suicide."

"Suicide! Whew!" cried Nick.

"Yes; he threw himself over the cliffs at Trevose Head. When his body
was discovered it was much bruised and battered. Of course the affair
was hushed up, and it was made out to be an accident, but no one was
deceived."

"But about the woman?"

"Well, I suppose she lay like one in a trance for some considerable
time, and it is said that all arrangements were made for her funeral.
Presently, however, she gave signs of life, and in course of time Naomi
was born."

"And the mother lived?"

"My dear Nick, you'll find that it'll take a great deal to kill a woman.
Yes, she lived and enjoyed a fair amount of health. I suppose, too, that
her conduct improved, at least I was told so; still, as I said, I found
her difficult to manage."

"But you did manage her?"

"When I set my mind on a thing I generally do get my own way; but I
think it would have been impossible in this case but for mother."

"What, granny?"

"Yes, she took the matter in hand, and together we got on fairly well."

"Yes, but by what means did you establish a claim on her sympathies? She
had other relations!"

"It would take a long time to tell. Indeed, it has been a work of years.
I've had to visit Trevose many times, and have suffered more abuse than
I care to tell about. However, before she died the will was made all
right."

"How?" asked Nick, eagerly.

"Well, in this way. Everything is given to Naomi, and I am constituted
her sole guardian. She cannot marry until she's twenty-one without my
consent."

"I see."

"If she dies everything comes to me."

"What!"

"Yes, mother worked that. I despaired of reaching that point; but you
know what your granny is. She pleaded that I was a cousin, and a hundred
other things. Besides, mother has a strange power over people."

"Then it seems to me everything is safe."

"Yes, if matters go right. She is now eighteen; if you marry her before
she's twenty-one all's well, but if not, then when she arrives at that
age the lawyer who has to do with the estates will naturally want
everything accounted for. Naomi's a sharp girl, and I shall have to give
an account of my stewardship."

"Her mother was a Catholic, I suppose?"

"Yes, that was a difficult point. Still we promised that Naomi's
religious views should not be interfered with, and also that a priest
shall visit the house occasionally."

"He will want her to marry a Catholic."

"Undoubtedly; but, honestly, I don't believe Naomi troubles about the
fine distinction in religious beliefs. The priest wanted to persuade her
mother that the child ought to be placed in Mawgan Convent, and her
property given to the Church. I thought once the wily rascal would have
succeeded, but fortunately mother was in the house at the time."

They sat for some little time without speaking; then Richard Tresidder
spoke again.

"You are a bit in love with her, arn't you, Nick?"

"More than a little bit, and she knows it, too."

"Well, be careful, my boy, be very careful. If we can get Trevose--well,
it's a nice thing, isn't it? But we must be careful. You are no fool,
Nick; Naomi has her little weaknesses like other folks; find 'em out and
humour 'em. Now you know how things are, and we must be going or we
shall be caught by the tide. There'll be a high tide to-night, too."

Then they went away, leaving me to think over what they had said, and I
must confess that my mind was much disturbed by their words. I do not
pretend to have the lawyer-like power of seeing where many things lead
to, but I did see, or rather I fancied I saw, the meaning of the
conversation I had heard, and which, according to the best of my
ability, I have faithfully described. I saw that Naomi was brought to
this house because of her money. I saw, too, that every sort of pressure
would be brought to bear upon her to make her marry Nick Tresidder, and
I felt assured that did not fair means succeed, foul ones would be used.
And what troubled me most was that I could do nothing. Evidently the
Tresidders were still searching for me, and, if I were caught, they
would, in spite of the friends I still possessed, try to render me more
helpless than ever.

Besides, how would the poor, helpless maid be able to resist the
pleadings of Nick Tresidder, backed up as they would be by the cunning
and stratagem of the woman who had caused my grandfather to disinherit
his own son? These questions, as may be imagined, greatly exercised my
mind, so much so that I forgot all about my plans to travel through the
night to Fowey and to try and get a berth as a sailor on a trading
vessel.

Presently night came on, and I felt faint and weak. Then I remembered
that I had eaten nothing for many hours, and so I turned with great
gladness of heart to the food which I believe Naomi had brought with her
own hands to the rocks which stood at the foot of the cliff under the
mouth of my hiding-place. When I had eaten I went into the inner cave,
and lay a-thinking again and again of what I must do. I recalled to mind
the words that had passed between Naomi and me, of the joy I had felt
when she was by my side, and especially of the time when I held her
hands in mine; and then I thought of what I had heard spoken between
Tresidder and his son, and not being, as I have said, quick at thinking,
my mind presently became a blank, and I fell asleep.

How long I slept I know not, but I was awoke by the sound of voices, and
of footsteps near me, but the first thing of which I have a clear
recollection was a kick on the shin, and a voice saying, "Bless my soul
'n body, what es this?"

I jumped to my feet and saw two men before me in rough seamen's clothes,
and with high jack-boots. I did not know them at all, and so I concluded
that they were strangers to our part of the county. They were not
altogether ill-favoured men, although I could not help feeling that
there was a kind of reckless expression on their faces which was not
common among Cornish fisherfolk.

"And who might you be?" asked one presently, after staring at me for
some time as if in blank astonishment.

By this time I had mastered the amazement which for the moment had
overcome me, and had surmised who they were. Undoubtedly they were the
smugglers who infested the coast, and who knew the secret of Granfer
Fraddam's Cave. Probably they belonged to Jack Truscott's famous gang,
and had brought a cargo of goods that very night. I heard the swish of
the waves rushing up the cave, so I knew the tide was high.

I measured the men, too, from a wrestler's standpoint, and calculated
their strength from the size of their bare arms, and the breadth of
their chests. All the fear that had come into my heart left me. Living
men did not frighten me.

"I might as well ask who you are," I replied coolly.

"Oh, tha's yer soarts, es et? Well, I think we may, so we'll tell 'ee,
es you'll never go out of this 'ere place a livin' man."

"Never go out a living man. Why, pray?"

"Well, 'cos you do knaw too much, tha's why. This caave es wot you call
convainient. See, matey? Well, ef other people wos to knaw 'bout et,
twudden be convainient."

"I quite understand. You are smugglers, and wreckers most likely.
Perhaps even worse than that. Perhaps you belong to Jack Truscott's
gang. Ah, I see you do. Well, your idea is to kill me because I have
found your hiding-place."

"That's ev et. Generally we be'ant cruel men, we be'ant. But some things
must be done. You zee, dead men kip their saicrets well; livin' ones
do'ant. You be a curyus-looking cove, ragged 'nough for a vuss cutter,
but you be'ant owr soart."

"No," I said, coolly, "I'm not your sort."

"And you'd splet on us the fust fair chance you got, I spect?"

"Probably."

"Well, that settles et, and so--" He drew his finger across his throat
significantly.

I must confess that a curious sensation came into my heart; but I did
not betray any fear, and after a few seconds I was able to speak
steadily.

"You've done that kind of thing before, I expect?" I said, watching the
spokesman's face closely.

"Sam have done et a vew times," he said, looking significantly at his
companion, "I do'ant do et oftener than I can 'elp."

The man called Sam grinned, as though he was proud of his distinction.

"In cold blood?" I queried. I kept on asking these questions, because I
wanted to gain time. I had heard of many bloody deeds being done off the
Lizard, but, as I said, the coast of St. Eve had been regarded as quiet
and free from violent men and violent deeds ever since Granfer Fraddam
died.

"We'd ruther do et in hot fight," said the man, with a curious twitch of
his lips, "a good bit ruther. Et _do_ come aisier that way; but there,
we ca'ant allays pick and choose."

I have not inserted the epithets with which they garnished their words,
neither can I describe the careless way in which they spoke of murder.
But in my heart came a great loathing for them, and a desire to be even
with them.

Both of them stood between me and the outer cave, one of them holding a
smuggler's lantern in his hand, and the man called Sam whispered
something in the other's ear.

"Do you knaw what Sam's bin sayin'?" said the smuggler to me presently.

"No."

"He ses, 'Bill Lurgy,' ses 'ee, 'tha's a daicent fella, an' we do'ant
want to cut hes windpipe. Git 'im to jine us.'"

"To join you!" I said with a sneer, for I thought of Naomi just then.

"Oh, I zee. I thot zo. Well, then, that settles et."

"Settles what?"

"This business. You zee, we mus' be olf. I spoase you knaw oal 'bout
this caave?"

"Yes."

"Saicret way out?"

I nodded.

Sam took a huge knife which hung in a sheath by his side.

"I'm right sorry for this, matey," said Bill Lurgy. "If you'd a promist
to jine us, we cud a kipt 'ee ere till the Cap'n comed, an' then 'ee
might 'ave tooked 'ee on. Besides, ther's a special cargo comin' in
d'reckly, defferent to this," he added, looking at the ankers of spirits
in the cave; "in fact, it's a fortin to we pore chaps."

"And I'm to be killed?" I said.

"You mus' be. Sam Liddicoat 'll 'ave to do et," he said, as coolly as
though I were a chicken he intended to kill for a dinner.

"Then I tell you, I'm not," I said, quietly.

"How be 'ee goin' to git away, my sonny? It's 'bout wawn o'clock in the
mornin' now. Nobody 'll come 'ere but chaps like we."

I made a leap at Sam Liddicoat suddenly, and struck him a stunning blow,
which sent him with great force against the side of the cave. Then I
turned to Bill Lurgy. My idea was to master him before Sam should
recover, and then escape up the secret way to the copse. Bill leapt on
me like a mad bull. "Oa, tha's yer soarts, es et?" he cried. "Well, I
zed I'd ruther do et in 'ot fight."

I had not been struggling with Bill Lurgy more than a few seconds before
I had mastered him. As I said, the Penningtons are a large race, and
Bill Lurgy, strong man as he was, became but a child in my hands. He
went on the floor of the cave with a thud, and then I fastened my hands
around his throat. I felt mad at the moment, and, remembering that time,
I can quite understand how men, when driven to extremities, can forget
the sacredness of human life. But in mastering Bill I had forgotten Sam
Liddicoat, whom I had struck down before he was aware of my intentions.

Hearing a sound behind me, I turned, and saw Sam with his knife
uplifted. Whether I should have been able to save myself or no, I know
not; I have sometimes thought it would have been impossible. Anyhow, Sam
did not strike. He was startled, as I was, by a voice in the cave.

"No, Sam, no!"

We both turned and saw a man about fifty years of age. He was below the
medium height, and although hardy and agile, apparently possessed no
physical strength above the average. He had a large head, well shaped,
while his features were clearly cut and, I thought, pleasing. His face,
too, was cleanly shaved, and he was dressed with some amount of care.
The only thing that was strange about him was the curious colour of his
eyes. They were light gray, so light that sometimes they looked white.

He entered the inner cave as though he knew it well, and spoke very
quietly.

"What, Sam," he said, in a honeyed voice, "wud you 'ave done a thing
like that? Strick un down in a moment wethout givin' ev'n a chance to
say hes prayers and to make hes paice, so to spaik? No, Sam; that wud
never do!"

"He nearly killed me, cap'n," grunted Sam.

"Iss, an' what ef a did? Remember the Scripters, an' turn the other
cheek, so to spaik."

By this time Bill Lurgy had got up, and, seeming to understand the
situation, slunk to the entrance of the inner cave.

"An' wad'n you to blaame, too?" he said, turning to me. "Never be rash,
young man, an' remember that a soft answer turneth away wrath."

I must confess that I was at a loss to understand this mild-spoken man,
and had not Sam called him "Cap'n," I should have thought him one of
those foolish people converted by the Methodists.

"Are you Cap'n Jack Truscott?" I asked.

"Well, and what if I be, sonny? Law, I bean't pertikler, ye knaw.
Spoase some people do call me Cap'n Jack Truscott, or spoase others do
call me Jack Fraddam, what do I care? I'm a man as es friends weth
everybody, my deear--tha's what I be. An' you, you be Jasper Pennington,
who've been robbed of yer rights, my deear."

"How do you know?"

"How do I knaw? Oa, I pick up things goin' about. I do--lots ov things.
I knawed 'ee as soon as I zee'd 'ee tackle they two chaps. Why, 'twud
'a' gone to my 'art for Sam to 'ave knifed 'ee, my deear. You was born
to live a good ould age, and die in bed at Pennington, in the best room,
my deear, with yer cheldern and grancheldern cal around 'ee, ould an'
well stricken in eres. Tha's your lot, Maaster Jasper. Besides, I'm a
man of paice, I be: I love paice 'n' quietness; I like love an'
brotherly 'fection, I do!"

I looked at him again in amazement, for I had heard of deeds which
Captain Jack Truscott had done that were terrible enough to make one's
blood run cold. It was reported that he had a house in a gully which
runs up from Kynance Cove, which was the meeting-place for the wildest
outlaws of the county. Folks said, moreover, that he owned a vessel
which hoisted a black flag.

"Ah, I zee, my deear," said Captain Jack, pathetically; "people 'ave bin
'busin' me. I allays 'ave bin 'bused, my deear, but I do comfort myself,
I do, for what do the Scripters say?--'Blessed are they that are
abused.' I ain't a-got the words zackly, but the mainin', my deear, the
mainin' es right, and that's the chief thing, ed'n et, then?"

In spite of myself the man fascinated me. There was a mixture of mockery
and sincerity in his voice, as though he half believed in his pious
sayings; moreover, he was very cool and collected. His white eyes
wandered all over the cave, and exchanged meaning glances with the two
men with whom I had been struggling, but I knew that he was watching me
all the time. He must have known that he was in danger of being taken by
the Preventive men, but he spoke with the calm assurance of an innocent
man.

"Well," I said, "what do you intend doing with me? You are three to one,
and I am unarmed."

"There you be spaikin' vexed now. Wha's the use of that?"

"No wonder, when your men were trying to kill me, and would, perhaps, if
you hadn't come just then."

"No; they wouldn't, my deear. I was watching; I zeed the man they'd got
to dail weth--fresh as paint, my deear, and shinin' like a makerl's
back. Plenty of rail good fight; and I like that, though I be a man of
paice, Jasper Pennington, my deear."

I waited for him to go on, and although I was much excited, and scarcely
expected to live until morning, I managed to meet his white eyes without
shrinking.

"Spoasing you go out, Bill and Sam, my sonnies," said Cap'n Jack. "Don't
go fur away, my deears; we cudden bear that, could us, Jasper? Do 'ee
smok' then, Jasper? I zee you do. Lots of baccy 'ere, an' pipes too.
Well, this es oncommon lucky. Well, lev us load up, I zay."

Thinking it well to agree with him, I filled a pipe with tobacco and lit
it while Cap'n Jack, with evident satisfaction, smoked peacefully. He
sat opposite me, and I waited for him to speak.




CHAPTER VIII

I GO TO KYNANCE COVE WITH CAP'N JACK TRUSCOTT'S GANG, AND MEET HIS
DAUGHTER TAMSIN


"This ed'n bad bacca, es it, then?" remarked Cap'n Jack, after he had
smoked peacefully for a few seconds.

"No," I replied; "as far as I'm a judge, it's very good." I spoke as
coolly as I could, although to be truthful I might as well have been
smoking dried oak leaves. I could not help realising that my case might
be desperate. I had heard that Cap'n Jack's gang were governed by no
laws, legal or moral, save those which this man himself made. If I
failed, therefore, to fall in with his plans, in all probability Sam
Liddicoat and Bill Lurgy would be called in to complete the work which
they had attempted a little while before. I could not understand a
smuggler, a wrecker, and probably a pirate with pious words upon his
lips; the idea of a man whose hands were red with crime talking about
peace, mercy, and loving-kindness was, to say the least, strange, and I
could not repress a shudder.

After his remark about the quality of the tobacco Cap'n Jack continued
puffing away in silence, occasionally casting furtive glances at me. The
place was very silent, save for the swish of the waves, as they poured
into the outer cave, and rolled the pebbles as they came. It was now
past midnight, but the month being September, there would be no light
for several hours.

At length Cap'n Jack looked at a huge silver watch, which he had taken
from his pocket, and seemed to be making some mental calculations.

"Fine and loanly, ed'n et, Jasper?" he remarked.

"Very."

"This es a very loanly caave. I thot nobody knawed anything 'bout et,
'ciptin' our chaps and Betsey and Eli."

"Betsey?"

"Iss, aw Betsey do knaw everything. Besides, Granfer Fraddam was--you
zee et do run in the family!"

I said nothing, but I called to mind many things I had heard Betsey say.

"Anything might be done 'ere, an' nobody the wiser," he said with a
leer.

"Yes."

"But I'm a man of paice, I be. A stiddy, thinkin' sort ov man as you may
zay. I shudden like for nothin' to 'appen to you, Jasper. Tha's wy I
stopped 'em jist now. 'ow be 'ee thinkin' to git the money to buy back
Pennington, Jasper? 'T'll be a stiff job, I tell 'ee."

I did not reply.

"I've 'eerd oal 'bout et, Jasper. Ah, I've knowd they Tresidders for a
good long while. Deep, deep, sonny, you ca'an't git 'em nohow. Besides,
'twas 'ard that you shud zee thicky purty maid for the fust time when
you was covered with mud, and egg yuks, and fastened on to that gashly
thing, wad'n et then?"

I gave a start, and I felt my face crimson.

"I shud like to be a friend to 'ee, Jasper, I shud. Betsey 'ave told me
'bout 'ee, and I like 'ee, Jasper. Besides, I'm allays a friend to the
oppressed I be, allays. I shud like to put 'ee in the way of spitin'
they Tresidders, and buyin' back the 'ome that es rightfully yours,
that I shud. Now, Jasper, my sonny, I could put 'ee in the way of
gittin' 'nough in a year or two to get yer oan. A clain off chap like
you, with schullership, one as can read ritin' an' knows figures like,
why, you could, with a bit of tittivatin', git on anywhere, that is,
with the blessin' of Providence, so to spaik."

"How?" I asked.

"Put yerself in my 'ands, Jasper."

"You mean become a smuggler, a wrecker, and a general law-breaker."

"Law?" cried Cap'n Jack. "Now what's law, Jasper? Es et fair now? The
law 'ave put you in a nice pickle, and tho' Pennington ought to be
yours, an' the Barton ought to be yours, an' shud be yours ef I, a fair
an' honest man, cud 'ave the arrangin' ov things, they've been tooked
from 'ee by law. An' you might wait till you was black an' blue, and the
law wudden give et back. What 'ave you got to do with law? Well, dodgin'
the Preventive men is 'ginst the law, I know et, but what ov that? You
c'n make a bit ov money that way--a good bit, Jasper. In three year or
so, with me to 'elp 'ee, you cud git 'nough to buy back Pennington,
there now."

"And what do you offer?" I asked.

"I'll take 'ee on, tha's what I'll do. I'll taich 'ee a vew things. I'll
make a man ov 'ee, Jasper. You are a vine big man, sonny, a match for
two ord'nary men, with schullership, an' a knowledge of figgers thrawed
in. You'd zoon be my 'ead man, an' do a big traade."

"If smuggling were all," I stammered.

"Tha's oal I ask ov 'ee, Jasper. A bit ov smugglin'. But spoase you
doan't. Well, look at that now. Spoase you doan't now. Nick Tresidder
'll git that maid es sure as eggs--while you--"

"I shall be murdered, I suppose."

"Jasper, I never like violence on a eldest son. It do main bad luck, my
deear, es a rule; still we've got to go 'ginst bad luck, sometimes. But
for the fact of your bein' the third of the family of the same naame--"

"More than the third," I interrupted.

"More than the third ef you like, my deear, but you be the third, an'
oal the world do knaw it's a bad thing to kill a man who's the third of
the same naame. But for that I mightn't 'ave come in time. You zee,
Jasper, I'm a religious man, do send a present to the passon every year
for tithes, I do."

At that time I did not believe in Cap'n Jack's words, but afterward I
found that all his gang were afraid to do that which was considered
unlucky. All Cornish people, I suppose, have heard the rhyme about
killing an eldest son who is the third in succession to bear the same
christened name. I know, too, that Cap'n Jack believed implicitly in the
legend, and I have heard him repeat it very solemnly, as though he were
repeating a prayer at a funeral, while his gang became as solemn as
judges. And I have little doubt now that the jargon which I will write
down--for I who have had a fair lot of schooling do call it jargon--had
a great deal to do with saving me from Sam Liddicoat's knife.


     "For if a man shall strike him dead,
     His blood shall be on the striker's head,
     And while ever he draws his breath,
     His days shall be a fearful death;
     And after death to hell he'll go,
     With pain and everlasting woe."


"An' so, you zee," said Cap'n Jack, "I do'ant want no violence weth
'ee, being a merciful and religious man."

Now I must confess that I was in sore straits what to do; for be it
remembered all my plans seemed poor and almost worthless, and at the
same time I loathed the thought of accepting Cap'n Jack's offer. Had I
been sure I should have to do nothing but help in the smuggling I would
not have minded so much, for it is well known that smuggling is not
regarded by many as wrong, even the parsons at St. Mawes, and
Tresillian, and Mopus having bought smuggled goods. Besides, I knew that
many had gained wealth in this way, and were thought none the worse of
for doing it. But Cap'n Jack was known to be worse than a smuggler, and
almost desperate as I was this hindered me. For I remembered that in
spite of everything I was still a Pennington, and I thought of what
Naomi Penryn would think of me.

"Besides," went on Cap'n Jack, "you needn't 'ave nothin' to do with this
part of the country. I do a biggish traade down the coast, Jasper, my
deear. Ther's Kynance, now, or a cove over by Logan Rock, and another by
Gurnard's Head. Nobody 'ere need to knaw where you be."

"Let me have time!" I stammered.

"To be sure, Jasper, my deear," wheedled Cap'n Jack; "then it's settled.
You shall come to my plaace at Kynance this very night, you shall. The
boys 'll soon be 'ere now. A special cargo, Jasper, 'nough to make yer
lips water. Things I bot from a Injun marchant, my deear--cheap. And
this es a clain off plaace to put et for a vew days."

"Are you sure it's safe here, Cap'n Jack?" I said, for already I began
to be interested in the smuggler's plans.

"Saafe, who do knaw about this plaace?"

"Betsey Fraddam and Eli."

"Iss, for sure--I knaw they do, else _you_ wudden a knawed. But who
besides?"

"Do you think Ikey Trethewy hasn't found out, living where he has lived
all these years?"

"Ikey! Iss, Ikey do knaw. Aw, aw!"

I saw his meaning, and suspected then what I afterward found to be true.
Cap'n Jack's business was very extensive, and he employed people up and
down the coast on both sides of the county. Moreover, several pedlars
who carried jewelry, laces, and fine silks, obtained their supplies from
Cap'n Jack.

"The Preventive men are busy watching you," I said.

"The Preventive men, aw, my deear. Iss, they be watchin', but how do you
knaw?"

I told him what I had heard between them and Richard Tresidder.

"Iss, iss," said Cap'n Jack, with a grunt of satisfaction; "tha's all
right, and they'll never vind out, no, they'll never vind out, and now
you've zaid oal, my booy?"

"No, I haven't; there's another who knows."

"Who?"

He looked at me in such a way, that before I had time to think his white
eyes seemed to drag the words from me.

"Miss Naomi Penryn," I said.

Never did I see such a change in any one. He no longer had the
appearance of a mild and inoffensive man. The look of harmless
indecision was gone, and all his pious sentiments were flung to the
wind. He burst out with a string of oaths such as I had never heard
before, and which made my flesh creep.

"Tell me all you know of this, Jasper Pennington," he said, presently,
"everything."

I could not disobey him at that time, and I told him what I have written
here, save but for the story of my love--that I kept in my own heart.

"She came in here to keep you from bein' found, did she?"

"Yes."

Then he became a little mild-mannered man again. He had grasped the
situation in a minute, and he had seen more than had come into my mind.
He commenced smoking again and continued for a few minutes, then he
started up suddenly.

"Sam, Bill, sonnies, come in there."

Instantly the two men entered.

"They're comin', be'ant 'em?"

"Iss, Cap'n."

A few seconds later I heard the sound of voices, and presently I knew
that several men were entering the cave.

"All safe, sonnies?" asked Cap'n Jack.

"Iss, Cap'n."

"Ah, Providence es very good. It's a vallyable cargo ef I did buy et
cheap."

The men laughed.

A number of bales of goods were brought into the inner cave, but I could
not discover what they were. I could see that the men were eyeing me
keenly, and I thought unpleasantly; but no word was spoken until the
cargo was unloaded, and safely stowed away.

"Nobody seed, I spoase."

"A dark night, Cap'n. No moon, no stars."

"Ah, Providence es very good, sonnies," repeated Cap'n Jack, then,
turning to me, he said, "You'll be wantin' to know who this es?"

There was an expression of assent.

"Some ov 'ee do knaw un, I reckon. Ah, Ikey Trethewy, I see you do, and
so do you, Zacky Bunny. This, sonnies, is Maaster Jasper Pennington.
You've 'eerd me spaik about un. Well, 'ee's a-goin' to jine us,
laistways, 'ee's a-goin' to Kynance to-night jist to zee, ya knaw.
There, you'd better be off, 'cipt Ikey Trethewy. He's near 'ome, 'ee is.
Wait outside a minnit, my deears, we'll be out in a minnit."

All left the inner cave except Ikey Trethewy, who stood watching us as
if in wonder.

Cap'n Jack hunted around the cave for a few seconds until he found an
inkhorn and a pen. "I do like to kip things handy," he said; "nobody do
knaw what'll 'appen." Then, turning to Ikey Trethewy, he said, "You do
knaw of a young woman who do live up to Pennington--a young woman jist
come there, called Penryn, I speck, Ikey, my deear?"

Ikey nodded.

"Have 'ee got a bit ov paper, sonny?"

"No, Cap'n."

"Ah, tha's awkard. This 'll do, I 'spect--a bit of the prayer-book. I
allays like to carry a prayer-book weth me, 'tes oncommon lucky. There,
Jasper Pennington, write."

I dipped the pen into the inkhorn, and put the paper which he had torn
from the prayer-book on a flat, smooth piece of slatestone. "What?" I
asked.

"Write what I shall tell 'ee, now then:

"_To Miss Naomi Penryn. If you breathe one word about, or come near
Granfer Fraddam's Cave, I am a dead man!_"

I wrote the words as he spoke them. "Is that all?" I asked.

"Sign yer naame, sonny."

I did as he told me.

He took the paper from me and spelt out the words carefully. "Ah, 'tes a
grand thing to be a schullard," he said, admiringly. Then he turned to
Ikey Trethewy. "This must be put in that young woman's hands at once,
an' nobody must knaw 'bout et. Mind!"

"Iss, Cap'n," responded Ikey.

"Now we'll go," said Cap'n Jack. "Good-night, Ikey. Ah, 'tes a good
thing to be a man of paice, and full of love for one's fella cretters.
Now then, Jasper."

Two men waited for us in the outer cave, and a few seconds later I was
in a boat bound for Kynance Cove.

Morning was breaking as we passed the Lizard, and, strangely
circumstanced as I was, I could not help feeling awed as I looked upon
the great headland. Little wind blew, but the long lines of white
breakers thundered on the hard yellow sands, while the low-lying rocks
churned the sea into foam.

"Purty, ed'n et, Jasper?" remarked Cap'n Jack. "'Ave 'ee ever zeed the
Lizard afore, Jasper?"

"Never, Cap'n Jack."

"Ah, I'll make a man ov 'ee. I've a cutter ov my oan, sonny; not sa big,
but a purty thing. She do want a cap'n, Jasper; one as knaws figgers,
an' can larn navigation. I do want a gen'lman by birth, an' a great
lashin' chap like you, Jasper--wawn as can taake a couple ov andy-sized
men and knock their heads together. Oa, ther's providence in things,
Jasper."

I said nothing, but my heart felt sad. I felt as if I were drifting away
from Naomi, and that in spite of myself I was cutting the rope that held
me to her.

Meanwhile the boats skirted the headland, and I saw the rocky coves of
Kynance in the near distance.

"Well, we be near 'ome, sonnies," said the captain, "after a safe
journey. Spoasin' somebody stricks up a bit of song now. Fishermen
agoin' 'ome ov a mornin', we be. We've toiled oal night an' caught
nothin', as the scripters say. Strik up now, 'Lijah Lowry, you've a fine
and purty voice. Now, then, sweet and stiddy, my booy."

So Elijah Lowry started a song, and the rest joined in the chorus.

"Zing, Jasper," cried Cap'n Jack, when one verse was completed. "Jine in
the cheerful song; let the people zee wot a contented, 'appy,
law-abidin' lot we fishermen be. Now, then, chorus:


     "Thrice the thunderin' seas did roar,
       Thrice the thunderin' winds did blow,
     While the brave sailors were rockin' on the top,
       And the landlubbers layin' down below.
     Below, below, below, below, bel--o--o--o--w!
       And the landlubbers layin' down below!"


"Now, then, peart and stiddy oal," cried Cap'n Jack. "An' seein' as 'ow
Providence 'ave bin sa kind, I do want 'ee to come up to my 'ouse
to-night for supper. Ya knaw wot a good cook my maid Tamsin es. Well,
she'll do 'er best fur to-night. Hake an' conger pie, roast beef and
curney puddin', heave to an' come again, jist like kurl singers at
Crismas time, my deears. Now, then, Jasper, you come long wi' me."

I walked with Cap'n Jack up a deep gully. On either hand the sides of
the chasm shot up, steeper than the roof of a house, while in some
places they were perpendicular.

"Nice'n lew 'ere, Jasper, my deear. Zee 'ow the things do graw. See the
'sparagus twigs, my deear. Like little fir-trees, be'ant 'em then. Aw,
'tes a keenly plaace, this es. Do 'ee zee thicky 'ouse up there, Jasper.
Tha's mine--an' Tamsin 'll be waitin' for me. Providence took away 'er
mawther, but left Tamsin; an' Providence was kind, Jasper, for her
mawther _'ad_ a tongue, my deear. Jaw! ah, but Tamsin's mawther 'ad a
speshul gift for jawin'! I caan't zay as 'ow I liked et, but I caan't
deny that she was a gifted woman."

I could not but admit that Cap'n Jack spoke the truth about his house.
It was situated on the side of the gorge, well sheltered from the winds,
yet so placed that from the gable windows a broad expanse of sea could
be seen. It was a well-built house, too, substantial and roomy. In the
front was a garden, well stocked with flowers and vegetables. In this
garden were two figureheads, supposed to represent Admiral Blake and Sir
Walter Raleigh.

"Godly men, both of 'em," remarked Cap'n Jack; "an' both of 'em down on
Popery. I be oal for a sound, solid religion, I be. Sir Walter brought
baccy, and the Admiral, well 'ee polished off the Spaniards and took a
lot of treasure from the Spanish ships. Some would call 'im a pirate,
Jasper, my deear, but I be'ant that kind of a man. No, no, thews furrin
chaps ca'ant 'spect we to laive 'em go wethout payin' toll. 'Ere we be,
Tamsin, my deear!"

The latter remark was addressed to a stout, buxom girl of twenty, who
greeted her father warmly, looking at me curiously all the while.

"Now, Tamsin, my deear, we waant some breakfast. Wot'll 'ee 'ave,
Jasper? 'Am rasher, my deear, or a few pilchers? Or p'raps Tamsin 'ave
got some vowl pie? This es my maid, Tamsin, this es, by the blessin' of
Providence--my one yaw lamb, tha's wot she es. As spruce a maid as there
es in the country, my deear. An' I forgot, you dunnaw Jasper, do 'ee,
Tamsin? This es Jasper Pennington, a godly young man who, like Esau of
ould, 'ave bin rubbed of his birthright an' hes blessin'. He's a-goin'
to jine us, Tamsin, 'n' then 'ee'll git back the birthright, an' laive
Nick Trezidder 'ave the blessin'. Aw! Aw! Now, then, Jasper, haive too,
my deear."

We sat down to breakfast, and I must confess to eating with a good
appetite. When I lifted my eyes from my plate I saw that Tamsin was
watching me curiously, as though she could not quite make me out.
Certainly I was not very presentable. My clothes were stained and torn,
and my appearance altogether unkempt. I felt ill at ease, too, and did
not care to talk much. Besides, in spite of my strange position, I was
tired and sleepy. This Cap'n Jack presently noted.

"You'll want to slaip, Jasper. Well, Tamsin shall give 'ee a bed, oal
down, my deear--make 'ee sleep when you do'ant want to. I do veel like
that, too. After we've 'ad a slaip, Jasper, we'll talk a bit avore the
booys do come up to supper. A slap-bang supper now, Tamsin, mind that!"

Tamsin left the room to prepare a bed for me, while Cap'n Jack pulled
off his boots.

"A clain off maid, Jasper, clain off. Spruce as a new pin, an' fresh as
a new painted boat. Temper like a lamb, Jasper. Ah! she'll be a grand
wife fur somebody, an' not short of a fortin neither. I've been a savin'
man, sonny, an' 'ave bin oncommon lucky in traade. I spoase Israel
Barnicoat do want 'er, an' Israel's a braavish booy, but Tamsin doan't
take to 'im. No, she doan't. Ah, there she es. Es Jasper's bed ready?
That's yer soarts."

He gave his daughter a sounding kiss, and went upstairs singing:


     "Her eyes be as blue as the sea,
       Her 'air like goulden grain,
     An' she'll stick to me, and only me
       Till I come back again.
       Again, again, again,
       Till I come back again."


"There, Jasper, thicky's the room, and tha's the bed, oal clain an'
purty, my deear."

How long I slept I do not know, but it was a long time, for I was very
tired. It was a long time since I had slept in a soft clean bed, and I
did not fail to appreciate the one Tamsin had prepared. I awoke at
length, however, and heard a tap at the door.

"Your new clothes are at the door." It was Tamsin who spoke.

On getting up and opening the door, I found a pile of clothes lying, and
on examining them I found them to be well made, and of good material.
They fitted me, too, and I must confess that I looked at myself with
considerable satisfaction when I had dressed myself. I saw, too, on
entering the kitchen that Tamsin approved of my changed appearance.

"Father's gone down to the cove," she said.

She spoke correctly, and her voice was low and musical.

"He'll not be back for half an hour," she continued; "when he comes I
expect he'll bring the men back to supper. I want us to have a talk now.
I want you to tell me why you are here. I want to know if you realise
what you are doing. Father will tell me nothing; but I cannot believe
you know what joining his gang means."




CHAPTER IX

WHAT HAPPENED AT CAP'N JACK'S HOUSE--TAMSIN'S CONFESSION, AND THE
SMUGGLERS' PLANS


As I looked into Tamsin Truscott's eyes, I could not help thinking what
a good-looking maid she was. I was sure she spoke earnestly, too.
Evidently she regarded me as different from the gang of men of which her
father was captain, and wanted to know the reason of my coming among
them.

Now I have before said I have never regarded myself as a clever
man--none of my race have ever been. Honest men the Penningtons have
always been; brave men, too, although I, perhaps, am not the man to say
it, but not men who understand things quickly. Often after I have had
dealings with people, it has come to my mind what I might have said and
done, how I might have left some questions unanswered while others I
could have answered differently. Lawyer Trefry once told me I should
never get a living with my brains; I had too much body, he said. I am
not ashamed to say this. Nay, I have no faith in men who are clever
enough to give lying answers instead of true ones. Give me a man who
speaks out straight, and who knows nothing of crooked ways. The men that
the country wants are not clever, scheming men, who wriggle out of
difficulties by underhanded ways, but those who see only the truth, and
speak it, and fight for it if needs be. I am glad I had a fair amount of
schooling, as becomes one who ought to have been the squire of a parish,
but I am more thankful because I stand six feet four inches in my
stockings, and measured forty-six inches around the naked chest even at
twenty-one, and that I know next to nothing of sickness or bodily pain.
But more than everything, I am proud that although I have been badly
treated I have told no lies in order that truth may prevail, neither do
I remember striking an unfair blow. No doubt, I shall have many things
to answer for on the Judgment Day, but I believe God will reckon to my
account the fact that I tried to fight fairly when sorely tempted to do
otherwise.

I say this, because it may seem to many that I was foolish in telling
Tamsin Truscott the truth about myself. But as I said just now, I am not
clever at answering people, neither could I frame answers to her
questions which would hide the truth from her. Before we had been
talking ten minutes I had told her all about myself, except my love for
Naomi. I dared not speak about that, for I felt I was not worthy to
speak of her, whose life was far removed from unlawful men and their
ways. Moreover I could not bear that the secret of my heart should be
known. It should be first told to the one who only had a right to hear
it, even although she should refuse that which I offered her.

"And so," said Tamsin, "my father has promised that you shall win enough
money to buy Pennington if you will work with him."

"That he has," was my reply.

"And do you know the kind of life he lives?"

"I have heard," I replied.

"And would you feel happy, Jasper Pennington, if you bought back your
home, got by such means?"

"As for that," I replied, for I did not feel comfortable under her
words, "what harm is there in smuggling? I know of several parsons who
buy smuggled goods."

"If smuggling were all!" she said, significantly.

"But is it not all?" I queried. "Your father told me that this was all
he required."

"Do you think you could gain enough by smuggling? Bill Lurgy has been
with my father for years; does he look like one who could buy back
Pennington?"

"He is but a paid man," I replied. "Your father has promised that I
shall have shares in his profits."

A look of scorn flashed from her eyes, which I could not understand, and
she seemed to be about to say some words which caused her much feeling,
when her eyes looked straight into mine, and I saw the blood course up
into her face, until her very brow became crimson. Her hands trembled,
too, while her lips twitched so that she was unable to speak.

Now, I could not understand this, especially as a few seconds before she
had been so eager to talk.

"Would you advise me to ask your father to release me of my promise,
then?" I asked. "I cannot go at once without his consent, for I have
given my word I will stay with him for one month."

For answer she caught my hands eagerly. "No, no, stay!" she said. "I
will see to it that you are fairly treated. You must not go away!"

This puzzled me much, but I had no time to ask her what she meant, for
just then her father and several of his men came into the room.

There was great carousing that night at Cap'n Jack's house. A great
deal of grog was drunk, and many strange things said, and yet I could
not help feeling that a kind of reserve was upon the party. I noticed
that when some story was being told Cap'n Jack coughed, whereupon the
eyes of the story-teller were turned upon me, and the yarn remained
unfinished. I could see, too, that many of the men did not like me, and
I grew uneasy at the ugly looks they gave me. Moreover, I could not help
remembering that in spite of all I was a Pennington, and was no fit
company for such as they. And yet I could not escape, for I was hemmed
in on every side.

At the end of a month I began to feel more at home among my
surroundings, and up to that time was not asked to do anything
particularly objectionable. It is true I helped to bring several cargoes
of smuggled goods ashore, but that did not trouble me. Moreover, I
learnt many things about the coast of which I had hitherto been
ignorant. At the end of two months I knew the coast from Gurnard's Head
to Kynance Cove, and had also spent a good deal of time in learning
navigation, which Cap'n Jack assured me would be essential to my getting
back Pennington. I had no rupture with any of the men, and yet I saw
they did not like me. Especially did Israel Barnicoat regard me with a
great deal of disfavour. I thought at the time that he was jealous of
the favour which Cap'n Jack showed me, for I knew no other reason why he
should dislike me. It was true that until I came he was regarded as the
strongest man in Cap'n Jack's gang, and was angry when he heard some one
say that I could play with two such as he.

"I would like to try a hitch with you, Squire," he said one day, when
Cap'n Jack had been chaffing him.

We were standing on the little green outside the Cap'n's house, and
several of us were together. I did not want to wrestle with him, for it
is ill playing a game of strength with a man who cannot keep his temper.
So I told him I would rather let him be regarded as the strongest man
that Cap'n Jack had. Whereupon he swore loudly and called me a coward,
so that I was obliged to accept his challenge. I had no sooner thrown
off my coat than Tamsin came to the door, and when Israel saw her his
arms became hard, and a strange light shone from his eyes.

"Throw off your shoes, Israel," I said. "We won't go in for kicking like
the up-country fellows, let's play like true Cornish lads."

Then I took off my heavy boots, and he did likewise, although I could
see he was not pleased. After that I waited quietly and let him get his
hitch on me first. But he was no match for me; try as he would, he could
not throw me, although he could see I did not put forth my strength.
Then, when I had let him do his utmost, I slipped from his grasp, put my
loins under his body, and threw him on the sward.

"Bravo!" cried Tamsin. "Ah, Israel, you are but a baby in his hands,"
and she laughed gleefully.

"It was a coward's throw," shouted Israel. "He struck me in the wind
with his knee--a coward's kick!"

"Coward!" I cried. "Nay, Israel Barnicoat, I could play with two such as
you. Let your brother come with you, and I'll throw you both."

With that Micah Barnicoat came up, and both together they leaped upon
me; but I caught them like I have seen the schoolmaster at Tregorny
catch two boys, and knocked their heads together; then with a little
trick I laid them both on the sward.

I do not write this boastingly, because I had nothing to do but to use
the strength which God gave me. I could not help it that I came of a
large-boned, strong race. My forefathers had been mighty men, and
although I am told I am far smaller and weaker than they, Israel
Barnicoat and his brother seemed like children in my hands. Neither
would I have written this save that it has to do with the story of my
life, which I am trying to tell truthfully, although, I am afraid, with
but little skill.

Israel looked at me more evilly than ever as he rose to his feet, but he
said no word, even though the men laughed loudly, and Tamsin rejoiced at
my success. I liked it not, however, when that same evening I saw Israel
eagerly talking with a group of men, each of whom held their peace as I
came up. This set me thinking, and finally a conviction laid hold of me
that Israel was my enemy, and that he would do me evil if he had the
chance.

After I had gone to bed that night I heard the sound of voices in the
garden, and presently, as if by arrangement, Cap'n Jack went to them.

"Where's the Squire?" I heard Israel Barnicoat say--they had called me
Squire from the first.

"Been in bed more'n an hour," was the reply.

"Look 'ere, Cap'n Jack," said Israel; "we want to spaik plain. Why is he
to be put afore we? Here 'ee es, livin' at your 'ouse as ef 'ee was yer
son. He ain't got to do no dirty work. Oal we want es fair play. Laive
'ee do loustrin' jobs same as we do."

"Anything else?" asked Cap'n Jack.

"I do'ant bleeve in makin' fish o' waun and flesh of t'other. All
alike, I zay."

"Be I cap'n?" asked Cap'n Jack.

"Iss, you be; but we chaps 'ave got our rights, tha's wot I zay. Wot's
ee more'n we?"

"Be I a fool, Israel Barnicoat?" asked Cap'n Jack. "Caan't I zee wot's
good fur us oal? He's larnin' navigation--wot fur? Ain't us got a ship
that 'll need navigation? We want a man as knaws figgers an's got
schoolin'; 'ave you got et? We want somebody as can play the genleman;
can you do et? Billy Coad es too ould to taake command ov the _Flyin'
Swan_ much longer; well, wot then? Who's to do et? You knaw we caan't
'ford to 'ave outsiders. 'Sides, ef 'ee once gits in weth we--well,
we've got un, ain't us?"

"Well, wot then?"

"He'll buy back Pennington."

"Wot's the use o' that to we?"

"Be 'ee a fool, Israel Barnicoat? Caan't 'ee zee that eff he's one o'
we, and he gits back his rights, that we'm as safe as eggs, an' shell
allays have a squire an' a magistrate on our side? Tha's wot I be
humourin' 'im for. I do'ant want to drive un away fust thing."

A good deal of murmuring followed this, some of the men evidently
agreeing with their captain, others feeling with Israel that I had had
too many favours shown me. Then they talked too low for me to hear,
except now and then fragments of sentences about the "queer-coloured
flag on the _Flying Swan_," and "Billy Coad makin' many a man walk the
plank."

All this opened my eyes to many things which had not hitherto been plain
to me, and I listened more eagerly than ever, in order to understand
their plans concerning me; but I could make nothing out of the orders
which Cap'n Jack was giving. At last, just before they left him, one
asked a question in a low voice: "When is the _Flying Swan_ expected?"

"A couple ov months, sonny. We must humour un a bit, and git un in our
ways. We ca'ant 'ford to be fullish jist now."

Presently they all left with the exception of Israel Barnicoat, who
spoke to Cap'n Jack eagerly.

"'Tes oal very well to talk, Cap'n," he said, "but 'ee's stailin' away
Tamsin from me."

"Did you ever 'ave Tamsin to stail, sonny?" asked the Cap'n.

"Well, I 'ad a chance at wawn time, but now she's tooked on weth he.
Mind, Cap'n, ef he do git Tamsin ther'll be somebody missin'!"

"Doan't be a fool, Israel," replied Cap'n Jack. "Go away 'ome, sonny,
and be ready for yer work in the mornin'."

"But mind, Cap'n, the Squire must obey oarders saame as we, else ther'll
be mutiny."

"Well, 'ee shell, ther' now. Good-night, Israel; good-night, sonny, and
by the blessing of Providence you'll be a rich man yet."

I turned over all this many times in my mind, and, as may be imagined, I
was sore driven what to think. Up till now I had not been asked, beyond
smuggling, to do anything unlawful, but now I saw that I was intended
for wild work. Moreover, I knew not how to get out of it, for Cap'n Jack
had, in a way, got me in his power. I had heard of several who had once
belonged to his gang, and who had come to an untimely end, and this not
by means of the law, but by unknown ways. I also called to mind one of
his stories concerning one Moses Rowse, who, because he wanted to "turn
religious," was found on the beach one day with his head broken, while
another went away from home and never came back again.

All this, I say, wrought upon me strangely--so much so that I did not
sleep that night, and I formed many plans as to how I might escape,
until my brain was weary.

The next day I noticed that Cap'n Jack was eagerly looking at the sea,
as though he saw something of interest, although I, who looked in the
direction toward which his eyes were turned, could see nothing.

"I reckon ther'll be some work to-night, Jasper, my sonny," he remarked,
after looking steadily a long time. "It do come dark early thaise
November days, an' it'll be a baisly muggy night to-night, tha's wot
't'll be. I must go down to the cove and zee the booys."

When he was gone Tamsin came to me.

"What are you so stand-offish for?" she asked.

I did not reply, for my heart was sad.

"And what did you think of the talk between father and the men last
night?" she asked.

"What do you know about it?" I asked.

"I know you were listening," she replied; "but never mind, it's all safe
with me; and, Jasper, you mustn't think that I care about Israel
Barnicoat, I don't like un a bit."

"He's the strongest man in your father's gang," I said.

"No, Jasper, he's no man at all when you are near. How could I look on
Israel Barnicoat now I've seen you?" She said this with a sob, and then
I knew that Tamsin Truscott loved me. She caught my great brown hand
and kissed it. "Jasper," she cried, "I know where father keeps his
money, love me, and I will get it for you; more than enough to buy back
Pennington. No one knows how rich father is. I know, I know!"

The maid spoke like one demented, and, for the moment, I knew not how to
answer her. Not that I despised her for saying what always ought to be
said by the man, for I believe that her heart was as clean as a
wind-swept sky. For a moment, too, wild, unnatural thoughts came into my
mind which I will not here set down. But even as they came the picture
of Naomi's face came before me, and they departed with the swiftness of
lightning. For I have found this to be true: a true love ever destroys
baser and poorer loves. Let a man love truly a true, pure woman, and all
womanhood is sacred to him. And because I loved Naomi truly no other
love could come into my life.

So I did not reply to Tamsin's words, but walked away toward the cove
instead. Still her words had their effect--they determined me to leave
Cap'n Jack's gang as soon as possible. I saw now that it would be wrong
to stay at Kynance Cove, wrong to Tamsin, wrong to myself. It would be
unworthy of my love for Naomi. For two months I had not realised what
lay before me, now I understood. How could I go to her with words of
love upon my lips, when I sought to win back the home of my fathers by
such means as Cap'n Jack hinted in his talk with his followers the night
before? And so again and again I planned how I might get away.

Early in the afternoon Cap'n Jack came to me. "I want us to crake a bit,
sonny," he said. I did not reply, but I sat down near him in the open
chimney.

"It's time we come to bisness," he said. "You've bin loppin' 'bout for
two months, doin' nothin' much. Well, the booys be jillus, Jasper, and
they want things clear."

"I've done all you've asked me," I replied.

"Iss, so you 'ave, sonny, but I want to maake a man ov 'ee. I've got a
purty boat, Jasper, called _The Flying Swan_. She'll be 'ome soon from
what I 'ope will be a prosperous voyage. I want you to go on 'er as a
soart of maate, to taake command laater on."

"What do you mean?" I asked. "What is this _Flying Swan_ of which you
are the owner? Is she a trading vessel? What does she carry? Besides,
why choose me? I know nothing about sea life."

"I'll tell 'ee," he said. "The _Flyin' Swan_ is used for smugglin' on a
biggish scale. She's manned by as braave a lot of chaps as ever clained
the seams of a deck. Her cap'n es Billy Coad, a man you may 'ave 'eer'd
on, and wawn you would like to knaw. A man of rare piety, Jasper. He and
me be the main owners, by the blessin' of Providence. Ah, it would do
yer 'art good to hear 'im give his Christian experience."

"Smuggling on a biggish scale. What do you mean by that?" I asked.

"Well, dailin' direct weth the furrin' poarts, and at times, when Billy
do see a vessel in the open say, wot do carry the flag of a Papist
country, say the Spanish, well, I doan't deny--but there."

"You mean that the _Flying Swan_ is but little better than a pirate
ship."

"Never call things by ugly naames," replied Cap'n Jack; "besides, I do
look upon this as your main chance of buyin' back Pennington."

"Suppose I refuse?" I suggested.

"You wa'ant refuse, sonny."

"Why not?"

"Well, twudden pay 'ee. We doan't never have that sort wi' we. I'm a man
of paice, I be; but thaise be loanely paarts, my sonny. Nearer than
Lezard Town ther's 'ardly a 'ouse. You wudden be missed much."

"But suppose I were to leave you?"

"Laive us; no, sonny, you ca'ant do that now. You knaw too much."

"How can you keep me? Suppose I were to leave the house now, ay, leave
the county, who could stop me?"

"I could, sonny. Do you think I'm a cheeld? I've got the county
ringed--I've got men everywhere. Cap'n Jack Truscott's gang is a big
affair, my son, an' I telly this, ef you tried to git away to-night
you'd be a dead man afore to-morrow, for oal I'm a man of paice, and
send presents to the passon in place of tithes; I doan't stand no
nonsense, mind that, my son."

His white eyes shone with a strange light, and I knew he had his fears
about my loyalty.

"The truth es, Jasper," went on Cap'n Jack, "you've come wi' we, and wi'
we you must stay; that es, till you git 'nough to buy back Pennington.
Aw, aw!"

"And if I do?"

"I shell 'ave a squire for my friend, and--well, you'll still be one o'
we. You see, my sonny, we've got many ways o' doin' things, an' when I
once gits 'old ov a chap, well, I sticks. But theer, sonny, wot's the
use ov angry words. I'm a paicable man, and wen you knaw us better,
you'll knaw 'ow we stick to aich other through thick and thin. I like
'ee, Jasper, an' I've got need ov 'ee. A strong fella you be--Israel
Barnicoat and his brother Micah was just like little babbies to 'ee. A
schullard, too, and knaw figgers. Iss, a year on the _Flyin' Swan_ on an
expedishan I'm a thinkin' on will buy back Pennington, and then, well,
we shall see, Jasper. Why shudden I be the squire's father-in-law, eh,
sonny? An' Tamsin es a grand maid, ed'n she then?"

Slowly my mind grasped his meaning, but I did not speak.

"Still, tho' you be a fav'rite ov mine, Jasper, the booys be jillus,
that ev it. An' ther's a bit of work on to-night, sonny. There's a craft
a few miles out, an' to-night will be baisly and black. Well, the booys
insist on your takin' our ould mare, an' tyin' a lantern on to her neck,
an' leadin' 'er on the cliff toward the Lizard. It'll do thou'll mare
good, and be a light to the vessel."

"Such a light would lure her on to the rocks!" I cried.

"Wud et, Jasper? Well, some wud blaame Providence for these things. But
it must be done."

"And suppose the Preventive men see me?"

"Wot be a couple of sich chaps to you? You could knack their 'eads
together like you ded by Micah and Israel."

"And if I refuse?"

He looked at me steadily for a minute with his white eyes gleaming
strangely in the firelight; then he said, slowly, "Ef you refuse this
time, my sonny, you'll never refuse no more in this world."

All the same I made up my mind that I would escape from Cap'n Jack's
gang that very night, and that I would take no part in luring a vessel
on to destruction.




CHAPTER X

WHAT BECAME OF THE WRECKERS' LIGHT--HOW I ESCAPED AND ENTERED PENNINGTON


An hour later a number of men were in the kitchen of Cap'n Jack's house,
and from the way they talked I knew they meant that the vessel which
they had been watching should that night be destroyed. Never until then
did I realise the utter heartlessness of the gang. They seemed to care
nothing for the lives of those on the ship which they had decided to
wreck. In their lust for gain nothing was sacred to them. As far as I
could gather, their plan was that I should lead Cap'n Jack's horse along
the edge of the cliffs with a lantern fastened to its neck. This to a
ship at sea would seem like the light of another ship. The false light
would thus lead the captain to steer his vessel straight upon the rocks.
Outside was a wild, high sea, the clouds overhead were black as ink, and
not a star appeared, thus the doomed vessel would be at the mercy of the
wreckers. It was Cap'n Jack's plan to have his men in readiness to seize
upon all the valuables of the ship, and that the crew should be drowned.
They had made out that the vessel was bound for Falmouth, but that in
the blackness of the night the crew would lose their whereabouts, and
would eagerly steer toward what they would believe to be the light of
another vessel.

Why I had been chosen to show the false light I knew not, except that
such a deed, by exposing me to the vigilance of the Preventive men,
would bind me more securely. They did not seem to think that I should
fail in doing this. As Cap'n Jack had said, to fail to obey the commands
of the gang meant an untimely death, while to try and escape would bring
upon me the same punishment.

Every man was well primed with brandy, and Cap'n Jack saw that while
each one had enough to excite him to wild deeds, no man was allowed to
drink to such a degree that he became in any way incapacitated for the
work before him.

During the conversation, however, I noticed that Israel Barnicoat spoke
no word. Instead, he kept his eyes upon me. When the conference was
ended, however, and all their plans, which I have barely hinted at,
because in my ignorance and excitement I could only dimly understand
them, Israel spoke aloud.

"Cap'n," he said; "the Squire have never done a job like this afore,
he'll need somebody weth un."

"We ca'ant spare more'n one man for sich a job," was the response.

"It'll need another, I tell 'ee," replied Israel.

"Then thee c'n kip un company," was Cap'n Jack's reply.

"Oal right," cried Israel, but he kept his eyes away from me as he
spoke.

"Tell 'ee where we'll begin," continued Israel, still looking away from
me. "We'll take old Smiler right to the Lizard, jist off Carligga Rocks,
we'll kip on cloase by Polpeor, an' on to Bumble. I reckon by that time
she'll be on the rocks. You c'n board 'er there, ef needs be, and we'll
mit you in the saicret caave in Honsel Cove."

"Iss, that'll do very well, sonny," was Cap'n Jack's reply. "By coose we
mayn't git 'er afore she do git to the Devil's Fryin' Pan or Cadwith,
and ef you fail theer, you must git to Black Head as fast as yer legs
can car'ee. But kip away from Ruan Minor, Israel, my sonny. The
Preventive men be strong there."

"Trust me," laughed Israel.

Cap'n Jack went out and looked seaward, anxiously. "You must start in a
'our or a 'our and haalf, Israel, my sonny, and the rest of us must git
doun to the Cove to once," he said, when he came back.

"Oal right, Cap'n," replied Israel, "I jist want to go and spaik to
mauther, while the Squire do git the oull mare ready."

I went out as he spoke, and then acting on sudden impulse, determined to
follow him. A minute later I was glad I had done so, for I saw that he
was going away from his mother's house. He hurried rapidly along the
Helston road until he came to a little beer-house, or as the folks
called it a kiddleywink, which he entered. When I had ar

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