Home > Authors Index > George Manville Fenn > Cormorant Crag; A Tale of the Smuggling Days > This page
Cormorant Crag; A Tale of the Smuggling Days, a novel by George Manville Fenn |
||
Chapter 17. Pirates Or Smugglers? How To Prove It |
||
| < Previous |
Table of content |
Next > |
|
________________________________________________
_ CHAPTER SEVENTEEN. PIRATES OR SMUGGLERS? HOW TO PROVE IT "Pirates, Cinder!" Mike was down at the gate waiting for Vince to come with his roll of exercises, ready for the morning's work; and as soon as Vince came within earshot he fired off the word that he had been dreaming about all night-- "Pirates!" "Where?" cried Vince, looking sharply round and out to sea. "Get out! You know what I mean. It's pirates, not smugglers." Vince stared at him for a few moments, and then burst out laughing. "Well, you've got it this time," he said, "if you mean the cave." "And I do," said Mike quietly. "Pirates; and that's some of the plunder and booty they took from a ship over a hundred years ago. So now whose will it be?" "Stop a moment," said Vince, looking preternaturally serious; "let's be certain who it was. Let me see: there was Paul Jones, and Blackbeard, and the Buccaneers. What do you say to its having belonged to the Buccaneers?" "Ah! you may laugh, but my father said last night that he never knew of smugglers being on the island, but that there was a story about pirates having a cave here, and going out in their vessel to plunder the outward and homeward bound merchantmen." "Humph!" grunted Vince, with a sceptical look. "And look here: he said the people had a superstitious belief that the pirates used to sail towards the Crag, and then disappear." "What!" cried Vince eagerly. "Disappear quite suddenly." "Behind that line of rocks when they sailed into the little cove, Mike?" "To be sure. Now, then, why don't you laugh and sneer?" cried Mike. "Does it sound so stupid now?" "I don't know," said Vince, beginning to be dubious again. "Then I do," said Mike warmly. "I never knew of such an unbelieving sort of chap as you are. There's the cave, and there's all the plunder in it--just such stuff as the pirates would get out of a ship homeward bound." "Yes; but why did they leave it there and not sell it?" "I know," cried Mike excitedly: "because one day they went out and attacked a ship so as to plunder her, and found out all at once that it was a man-o'-war; and as soon as the man-o'-war's captain found out that they were pirates he had all the guns double-shotted, and gave the order to fire a broadside, and sank the pirate." "That's the way," said Vince, laughing; "and the pirate captain ran up the rigging with a hammer and some tin-tacks, and nailed the colours to the mast." "Ah! you may laugh," said Mike. "You're disappointed because you didn't find it out first. There it all is, as plain as plain. The people used to think the pirate vessel disappeared, because she sailed out of sight and used to lie in hiding till they wanted to attack another ship. Well, I shan't say any more about it if you are going to laugh, but there's the treasure in the cave: we found it; and half's yours and half's mine. Now then, what did the Doctor say?" "That he never heard of any smugglers ever being here." "There!" cried Mike triumphantly. "He said there was no one here to buy smuggled goods, and nothing here to smuggle." "Of course not: the other's the idea, and I vote we go down and properly examine our treasure after dinner." "That is curious," said Vince, "about the tradition of the pirate ship disappearing, because it proves that there is a channel big enough for a small ship." "Oh you're beginning to believe, then, now?" "No, I'm not; for I feel sure those are smuggled goods. But, Mike, we must get old Joe to lend us his boat, and sail along there ourselves." "He wouldn't lend it to us." "Then I know what we'll do--" "Now, gentlemen, I'm waiting," said a familiar voice. "All right, Mr Deane; we're coming," cried Mike. "Now, Cinder, what shall we do?" "Go and ask the old chap to lend us his boat, and if he won't we'll come back disappointed." "And what's the good of that?" "Slip round another way and borrow her. You and I could manage her, couldn't we?" "Why, I could manage her myself." "Of course you could. We shouldn't hurt the boat; and we could feel our way in, and see from outside whether it has been a smugglers' place or no." "That's it," said Mike; and five minutes after they were working hard with the tutor, as if they had nothing on their minds. That afternoon, with the sun brighter and the sea and sky looking bluer than ever, the two boys were off for their afternoon expedition, making their way along a rough lane that was very beautiful and very bad. It was bad from the point of view that the fisher-farmers of the island looked upon it as a sort of "no man's land," and never favoured it by spreading donkey-cart loads of pebbles or broken granite to fill up the holes trodden in by cows in wet weather, or the tracks made by carts laden with vraick, the sea-weed they collected for manuring their potato and parsnep fields. Consequently, in bad seasons Vince said it was "squishy," and Mike that it was "squashy." But in fine summer weather it was beautiful indeed, for Nature seemed to have made up her mind that it was nonsense for a roadway to be made there to act like a scar on the landscape, just to accommodate a few people who wanted to bring up sea-weed, sand and fish from the shore, and harness donkeys to rough carts to do the work when they might more easily have done it themselves by making a rough windlass, such as they had over their wells, and dragging all they wanted directly up the cliff face to the top--a plan which would have done in fifty yards what the donkeys had to go round nearly half a mile to achieve. As to the road being kept up solely because old Joe Daygo had a cottage down in a notch in the granite walls overlooking the sea, that seemed to be absurd. Consequently, Nature went to work regularly every year to do away with that road, and she set all her children to help. The gorse bushes hung from the sides, thrusting out their prickly sprays covered with orange and yellow blossom and encroached all they could; the heather sprouted and slowly crept here and there, in company with a lovely fine grass that would have made a lover of smooth lawns frantic with envy. Over the heath, ling, and furze the dodder wreathed and wove its delicate tangle, and the thrift raised its lavender heads to nod with satisfaction at the way in which all the plants and wild shrubs were doing their work. But there were two things which left all the rest behind, and did by far the most to bring the crooked lane back to beauty. They laughed at the two brionies, black and white; for though they made a glorious show, with their convolvulus and deeply cut leaves, and sent forth strands of wonderfully rapid growth to run over the sturdy blackthorn, which produced such splendid sloes, and then hung down festoons of glossy leaves into the lane that quite put the more slow-growing ivy to the blush, still these lovely trailing festoons died back in the winter, while their rival growths kept on. These rivals were the brambles and the wild clematis, which grew and grew in friendly emulation, and ended, in spite of many rebuffs from trampling feet, by shaking hands across the road; the clematis, not content with that, going farther and embracing and tangling themselves up till rudely broken apart by the passers-by--notably by old Joe Daygo, when he went that way home to his solitary cot, instead of walking, out of sheer awkwardness, across somebody's field or patch. "I wish father would buy old Joe's cottage," said Vince, as the two lads trudged down the lane that afternoon. "We could make it such a lovely place." "Yours is right enough," said Mike, pausing in whistling an old French air a good deal affected by the people. "Oh yes, and I shouldn't like to leave it; but I always like this bit down here; the lane is so jolly. Look." "What at?" "Two swallow-tail butterflies. Let's have them." "Shan't. I'm not going to make myself red-hot running after them if we're going out in the boat. Besides, we haven't got any of your father's pill boxes to put 'em in. I say, how the things do grow down here! Look at that fern and the bracken." "Yes, and the old foxgloves. They are a height!" "It's so warm and sheltered. What's that?" They stopped, for there was a quick, rushing sound amongst the herbage. "Snake," said Vince, after a pause; "and we've no sticks to hunt him out." "Down his hole by this time. Come along. What a fellow you are! You always want to be off after something. Why can't you keep to one purpose at a time, as Mr Deane says, so as to master it?" "Hark at old Ladle beginning to lay down the law," cried Vince merrily. "You're just as bad. I say, shall we stop about here this afternoon? Look at that gull--how it seems to watch us." Vince threw back his head to gaze up at the beautiful, white-breasted bird, which was keeping them company, and sailing about here and there some twenty feet overhead, watching them all the time. "Bother the gull!" said Mike. "Let's go on and speak to old Joe about the boat." "Oh, very well," said Vince; "but what's the hurry? I hate racing along when there's so much to see. Here, Ladle: look--look! My! what a chance for a seine!" They had just reached a turn in the lane where they could look down at an embayed portion of the deep blue sea, in which a wide patch was sparkling and flashing in the most dazzling way, and literally seeming to boil as if some large volcanic fire were at work below. "Mackerel," said Vince. "Pilchards," said Mike. "'Taint: it's too soon. It's mackerel. What a chance!" "Have it your own way," said Mike; "but a nice chance! Ha! ha! Why, if they surrounded them they'd get their nets all torn to pieces. There's sand all round, but the middle there is full of the worst rocks off the coast." "Yes I s'pose it would be rocky," said Vince thoughtfully. "Well, do come on." Mike turned upon him to resent the order, feeling that it was nice to be accused of delaying their progress; but the mirthful look on Vince's face disarmed him, and after a skirmish and spar to get rid of a little of their effervescing vitality, consequent upon the stimulating effects of the glorious air, they broke into a trot and went past a large patch where a man was busy hoeing away at a grand crop of carrots, destined for winter food for his soft-eyed cow, tethered close at hand; and soon after came in sight of a massive, rough chimney-stack of granite, apparently level with the road. But this latter made a sudden dip down into a steep hollow, and there stood the comfortable-looking cottage inhabited by the old fisherman, with its goodly garden, cow-shed, and many little additions which betokened prosperity. The door was open, and, quite at home, the boys walked into the half parlour, half kitchen-like place, with its walls decorated with fishing-gear and dried fish, with various shells, spars, and minerals, which the old man called his "koorosseties," some native, but many obtained from men who had made long voyages in ocean-going ships. "Hi, Joe! where are you?" cried Vince, hammering on the open door. But there was not a sound to be heard; and they came out, climbed up the rocks at the back till they were above the chimneys, and looked round, expecting to find that he had gone off to the granite-hedged field where he tethered his cows. But the two sleek creatures were browsing away, and no one was in sight but the man, some hundred yards or so distant, hoeing the weeds from his carrots. "How tiresome!" said Mike. "All right: he'll know," cried Vince; and they trotted to where the man was very slowly freeing his vegetables from intruders. "Hi, Jemmy Carnach!" shouted the lad, "seen Joe Daygo?" "Ay,--hour ago," said the man, straightening himself slowly, and passing one hand behind him to begin softly rubbing his back: "he've gone yonder to do somethin' to his boat." "Come on, Mike; we'll cut straight across here and catch him. It's much nearer." "Going fishing, young sirs?" said the man. "Yes, and for a sail." "If you see that boy o' mine--" "What, Lobster?" said Vince. "Eh? lobster?" said the man eagerly. "Ay, if you ketch any, you might leave us one as you come back. I arn't seen one for a week." "All right," said Mike, after a merry glance at Vince; "if we get any we'll leave you one." "Ay, do, lad," said the man. "Good for them as has to tyle all day. If you see my boy, tell him I want him. I'm not going to do all the work and him nothing." "We'll tell him," said Vince. "And if he says he won't come, you lick him, mind. Don't you be feared." The boys were pretty well out of hearing when the last words were spoken; and after a sharp trot, along by the side of the cliff where it was possible, they came to the rugged descent leading to old Daygo's tiny port. This time they were not disappointed, for they caught sight of the old man's cap as he stood below with his back to them, driving a wooden peg into a crack in the rock with a rounded boulder, ready for hanging up some article of fishing-gear. "You ask him," said Mike: "he likes you best." "All right," said Vince; and, putting his hands to his lips, he shouted out, "Daygo, ahoy!" "Ahoy!" cried the old man, without turning his head; and he kept on thumping away till the boys had reached him, when he slowly turned to face them, and threw down the great pebble. Vince was too thorough to hesitate, and he opened the business at once, in his outspoken way: "Here, Joe!" he cried; "we want you to lend us your boat to go for a sail." "To lend you my boat to go for a sail?" said the old man, nodding his head softly. "Yes; and we shan't be very long, because we must be back to tea." "And you won't be very long, because you must be back to tea?" "Yes; and we won't trouble you. We can get it out ourselves." "And you won't trouble me, because you can get it out yourselves?" "That's right." "Oh, that's right, is it, Master Vince? That's what you thinks," said the old fisherman. "But you'll lend it to us, won't you?" "Nay, my lad--I won't." "Why?" "Why?" said Daygo, beginning to rasp his nose, according to custom, with his rough forefinger. "He says why? Mebbe you'd lose her." "No, we wouldn't, Joe." "Mebbe you'd run her on the rocks." "Nonsense!--just as if we don't know where the rocks are. Know 'em nearly as well as you do." Daygo chuckled. "Oh, come, Joe, don't be disagreeable. We'll take plenty of care of it, and pay you what you like." "Your fathers tell you to come to me?" "No." "Thought not. Nay, my lads, I won't lend you my boat, and there's an end on it. I'm not going to have your two fathers coming to ask me why I sent you both to the bottom." "Such stuff!" cried Vince angrily. "Just as if we could come to harm on a day like this." "Ah! you don't know, lad; I do. Never can tell when a squall's coming off the land." "Well, I do call it disagreeable," said Vince. "Will you take us out?" "Nay, not to-day." "Oh, very well. Never mind, but I shan't forget it. Did think you'd have done that, Joe. Come on, Mike; let's go and get some lines and fish off the rocks." "Ay, that's the best game for boys like you," said the old man; and, stooping down, he picked up the boulder and began to knock again at the wooden peg without taking any notice of his visitors. "Come on, Vince," said Mike; and they walked back up the cliff, climbing slowly, but as soon as they were out of the old man's sight starting off quickly to gain a clump of rocks, which they placed between them and the way down. Here they began to climb carefully till they had reached a spot from whence they could look down upon the little winding channel leading from the tunnel to Daygo's natural dock. They could see the old man, too, moving about far below, evidently fetching something to hang upon the great peg he had finished driving in; and, after disappearing for a few minutes, he came into sight again, and they saw him hang the something up--but what, at that distance, they could not make out. At the end of a few minutes the old man went down to his boat, stayed with it another five minutes or so, and then stood looking about him. "It's no go, Cinder," said Mike, in a disappointed tone; "we shan't get off to-day, and perhaps it's best. We oughtn't to take his boat." "Why not? It's only like borrowing anything of a neighbour. He was sour to-day, or else he'd have lent it." "But suppose he finds out?" "Well, then he'll only laugh. You'll see: he'll be off directly." Mike shook his head as they lay there upon their breasts, with their heads hidden behind tufts of heather; but Vince was right as to the old man soon going, for directly after they saw him begin to climb deliberately up to the level, look cautiously round, and then, bent of back, trudge slowly off in the direction of his home; while, as soon as he was well on his way, the boys crept downward till they were at the foot of the rocks, when Vince cried: "Now then: lizards!" and began to crawl at a pretty good rate towards the way down to the natural dock, quite out of sight of the old man if he had looked back. The rugged way down was reached, and here they were able to rise erect and begin to descend in the normal way, Vince starting off rapidly. "Come on!" he cried; "old Joe will never know. I say, we have 'sarcumwented' him, as he'd call it." "Yes, it's all very well," said Mike, whose conscience was pricking him, "but it always seems so precious easy to do what you oughtn't to." "Pooh!" cried Vince; "this is nothing." "Some one is sure to say he has seen the boat out." "Well, I don't care if he does. Joe ought to have lent us the boat; I'm sure we've done things enough for him. There, don't talk; let's get her. He might come back for something, and stop us." _ |
||