Chapter 1

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_ CHAPTER ONE.

There was a loud rattling noise, as if money was being shaken up in a box. A loud crashing bang, as if someone had banged the box down on a table. A rap, as if a knife had been dropped. Then somebody, in a petulant voice full of vexation and irritability, roared out:

"Bother!"

And that's exactly how it was, leaving Aleck Donne, who looked about sixteen or seventeen, scratching vigorously at his crisp hair as he sat back, with his elbows resting upon those of the big wooden arm-chair, staring at the money-box before him.

"I call it foolishness," he said, aloud, talking, of course, to himself, for there was no one else in the comfortable room, the window of which opened out upon the most quaint garden ever seen. "It's all right to save up your money in a box and keep on dropping it through a slit; but how about getting it out? Here, I'll go and smash the stupid old thing up directly on the block in the wood-shed."

But instead of carrying out his threat, he leaned forward, picked up the curved round-ended table-knife he had dashed down, seized the money-box again, shook it with jingling effect, held it upside down above his eyes, and began to operate with the knife-blade through the narrow slit in the centre of the lid.

For a good quarter of an hour by the big old eight-day clock in the corner did the boy work away, shaking the box till some coin or another was over the slit, and then operating with the knife-blade, trying and trying to get the piece of money up on edge so that it would drop through; and again and again, as the reward of his indefatigable perseverance, nearly succeeding, but never quite. For so sure as he pushed it up or tilted it down, the coin made a dash and glided away, making the drops of perspiration start out on the boy's forehead, and forcing him into a struggle with his temper which resulted in his gaining the victory again, till that thin old half-crown was coaxed well into sight and forced flat against the knife-blade. The boy then began to manipulate the knife with extreme caution as he kept on making a soft purring noise, _ah-h-h-h-ha_! full of triumphant satisfaction, while a big curled-up tabby tom-cat, which had taken possession of the fellow chair to that occupied by Aleck, twitched one ear, opened one eye, and then seeing that the purring sound was only a feeble imitation, went off to sleep again.

"Got you at last!" muttered the lad. "Half a crown; just buy all I want, and--bother!" he yelled, and, raising the box on high with both hands, he dashed it down upon the slate hearth with all his might.

Temper had won this time. Aleck had suffered a disastrous defeat, and he sat there with his forehead puckered up, staring at the cat, which at the crash and its accompanying yell made one bound that carried it on to the sideboard, where with glowing eyes, flattened ears, arched back, and bottle-brush tail, it stood staring at the disturber of its rest.

"Well, I am a pretty fool," muttered Aleck, starting out of his chair and listening for a few moments before stealing across the room to open the door cautiously and thrust out his head.

There was no sound to be heard, and the boy re-closed the door and went back to the hearth.

"I wonder uncle didn't hear," he muttered, stooping down. "I've done it now, and no mistake."

As he spoke he picked the remains of the broken box from inside the fender.

"Smashed!" he continued. "Good job too. Shan't have any more of that bother. How much is there? Let's see!"

There was a small fire burning in the old-fashioned grate, and with a grim look the boy finished the destruction of the money-box by tearing it apart at the dovetailings and placing the pieces on the fire, where they caught at once, blazing up, while the lad hunted out and picked up the coins which lay scattered here and there.

"Three--four--five--and sixpence," muttered the boy. "I thought there was more than that. Hullo! Where's that thin old half-crown? Haven't thrown it on the fire, have I? Oh, there you are!" he cried, ferreting it out of the fleeces of the thick dark-dyed sheepskin hearth-rug at his feet. "Eight shillings," he continued, transferring his store to his pocket. "Well, I'm not obliged to spend it all. Money-box! Bother! I'm not a child now. Just as if I couldn't take care of my money in my pocket."

He gave the place a slap, turned to the window, looked out at the soft fleecy clouds gliding overhead, and once more made for the door, crossed the little hall paved with large black slates, and then bounded up the oak stairs two at a time, to pause on the landing and give a sharp knuckle rap on the door before him; then, without waiting for a "Come in," he entered, to stand, door in hand, gazing at the top of a big shaggy grey head, whose owner held it close to the sheets of foolscap paper which he was covering with writing in a bold, clear hand.

"Want me, uncle?"

The head was raised, and a pair of fierce-looking eyes glared at the interrupter of the studies from beneath enormously-produced, thick, white eyebrows, and through a great pair of round tortoise-shell spectacles.

"Want you, boy?" was the reply, as the speaker held up a large white swan-quill pen on a level with his sun-browned and reddened nose. "No, Lick. Be off!"

"I'm going to run over to Rockabie, uncle. Back to dinner. Want anything brought back?"

"No, boy; I've plenty of ink. No.--Yes. Bring me some more of this paper."

The voice sounded very gruff and ill-humoured, and the speaker glared angrily, more than looked, at the boy.

"Here," he continued, "don't drown yourself."

"Oh, no, uncle," said the boy, confidently, "I'll take care of that."

"By running into the first danger you come across."

"Nonsense, uncle. I can sail about now as well as any of the fisher lads."

"Fisher? Bah!" growled the old man, fiercely. "Scoundrels--rascals, who wear a fisher's frock to hide the fact that they are smugglers--were wreckers. Nice sink of iniquity this. Look here, Lick. Take care and don't play that idler's trick of making fast the sheet."

"I'll take care, uncle."

"How's the wind, boy?"

"Just a nice soft breeze, uncle. I can run round the point in about an hour--wind right abaft."

"And dead ahead coming back, eh?"

"Yes; but I can tack, uncle--make good long reaches."

"To take you out into the race and among the skerries. Do you think I want to have you carried out to sea and brought back days hence to be buried, sir?"

"Of course you don't, uncle; but I shan't hurt. Old Dumpus says I can manage a boat as well as he can."

"He's a wooden-legged, wooden-headed old fool for saying so. Look here, Aleck; you'd better stop at home to-day."

"Uncle!" cried the boy, in a voice full of protest.

"The weather's going to change. I can feel it in my old wound; and it will not be safe for a boy like you alone to try and run that boat home round the point."

"Oh, uncle, you treat me as if I were a little boy!"

"So you are; and too light-headed."

"It's such a beautiful morning for a sail, uncle."

"Do just as well to watch the sea from the cliffs, and the carrier can bring what you want from Rockabie next time he goes."

"Uncle! I shall be so disappointed," pleaded the boy.

"Well! What of that? Do you good, boy. Life's all disappointments. Prepare you for what you'll have to endure in the future."

"Very well, uncle, I won't go if you don't wish it."

"Of course you won't, sir. There, run round and get one of the Eilygugg lads to help you with the boat."

"Please, uncle, I'd rather not. I don't like them, and they don't like me."

"Of course you don't like the young scoundrels, sir; but they can manage a boat."

"I'd rather not go now, uncle," said the boy, sadly.

"And I'd rather you did. There, go at once, while the weather's fine, and make that old man-o'-war's man help you to come back?"

"Tom Bodger, uncle? But how's he to get back?"

"I'll give him some shillings, and he can pay one of the smugglers to give him a lift home."

"Thank you, uncle," cried the boy, in an eager way, which showed plainly enough how well satisfied he was with the arrangement.

"Don't worry me. Be off!" said the old man, bending over his writing again.

Aleck needed no further orders, and hurried out into the well-kept garden, where everything looked healthy and flourishing, sheltered as it was from the fierce winds of all quarters by the fact that it lay in a depression formed by the sinking of some two or three acres of land, possibly from the undermining of the sea in far distant ages, at the end of a narrow rift or chasm in the cliffs which guarded the shores, the result being that, save in one spot nearest the sea, the grounds possessed a natural cliff-like wall some fifty or sixty feet high, full of rift and shelf, the nesting-place of innumerable birds. Here all was wild and beautiful; great curtains of ivy draped the natural walls, oak and sycamore flourished gloriously in the shelter as far as the top of the cliff, and there the trees ceased to grow upward and branched horizontally instead, so that from the level land outside it seemed as if Nature had cut all the tops off level, as indeed she had, by means of the sharp cutting winds.

Aleck followed the garden path without looking back at the vine and creeper-clad house in its shelter, and made for one corner of the garden where the walls overlapped, and, passing round one angle, he was directly after in a zigzag rift, shut in by more lofty, natural walls, but with the path sloping downward, with the consequence that the walls grew higher, till at the end of about three hundred yards from the garden they were fully a couple of hundred feet from base to summit, the base being nearly level with the sea. This latter was hidden till the lad had passed round another angle of cliff, when he obtained a glimpse of the deep blue water, flecked here and there with silvery foam, but hidden again directly as he followed the zigzag rift over a flooring of rough stones which had fallen from the towering perpendicular sides, and which were here only some thirty or forty feet apart, and completely shut out the sunshine and a good deal of the light.

Another angle of the zigzag rift was passed, and then the rugged stony flooring gave place to dark, deep water, beautifully transparent--so clear that the many-tinted fronds of bladder-wrack and other weeds could be seen swaying to and fro under the influence of the tide which rose and fell.

Here, in a natural harbour, sheltered from all dangers, lay the boat the boy sought. It was moored in a nook by a rope attached to a great ring; the staple had been sunk in a crack and sealed fast with molten lead, and no matter what storms raged outside, the boat was safely sheltered, and swung in a natural basin at ordinary tides, while at the very lowest it grounded gently in a bed of white sand.

It was well afloat upon this occasion, and skirting round it along a laboriously chipped-out ledge about a foot wide, the boy entered a crack in the rock face, for it could hardly be called a cavern. But it was big enough for its purpose, which was to shelter from the rain and rock drippings a quantity of boat gear, mast, sails, ropes, and tackle generally, which leaned or hung snugly enough about the rock, in company with a small seine, a trammel-net, a spare grapnel or two, some lobster-pots, and buoys with corks and lines.

Aleck was not long about carrying mast, yard, and sail to the boat and shipping them. Then, in obedience to an idea, he placed a couple of fishing-lines, a gaff-hook, a landing-net, and some spare hooks aboard; then, taking a little bucket, he half filled it with the crystal water of the pool, and after placing it aboard took hold of a thin line, one end of which was secured to a ring-bolt in a block of wreck lumber, while the other ran down into the pool.

A pull at the line brought a large closely-worked, spindle-shaped basket to the surface, when a commotion inside announced that the six-inch-wide square of flat cork, which formed a lid, covered something alive.

So it proved; for upon unfastening the lid an opening was laid bare, and upon the "coorge"--as the fishing folk called the basket--being laid across the bucket and turned sidewise, some ten or a dozen silvery eel-shaped fish glided out into the bucket, and began swimming round and round in search of an outlet.

"More bait than I shall want," said Aleck, covering and letting the basket go back into the pool. Then, unfastening the mooring-rope, the boy picked up a boat-hook, and by hooking on to the side rocks here and there he piloted the boat along the devious watery lane, with the mighty walls towering high on either side and whispering or echoing back every sound he produced on his way out to the open sea.

It was beautiful--solemn--grand--all in one, that narrow, gloomy, zigzag way between the perpendicular walls; and a naturalist would have spent hours examining the many-tinted sea anemones that opened their rays and awl-shaped tentacles below the water, or lay adhering and quiescent upon the rocks where the tide had fallen, looking some green, some olive, and many more like bosses of gelatinous coagulated blood.

But these were too common objects of the seashore for Aleck Donne to heed; his eyes were for the most part upon the blue and opalescent picture some two hundred yards before him, where the chasm ended, its sharp edges looking black against the sea and sky as he hooked on here, gave a thrust there, and sent the boat along till the rift grew lighter and lighter, and then was left behind, for a final thrust had sent the boat right out into the sunshine, and in full view of three huge skittle-shaped rocks standing up out of the sea, high as the wall-like cliff of which at some time or another they must have been a portion. They were now many yards away and formed the almost secure nesting-places of hundreds upon hundreds of birds, whose necks stood up like so many pegs against the sky, giving the rocks a peculiar bristling appearance. But the sense of security for the young birds was upset by the long flapping wings of a couple of great black-backed gulls which kept on sailing round and round, waiting till the opportunity came to make a hawk-like swoop and carry off some well-fatted, half-feathered young auk. One met its fate, in the midst of a rippling purring cry, just as Aleck laid in his boat-hook and proceeded to step the mast, swaying easily the while with the boat, which was now well afloat on the rising and falling sea. _

Read next: Chapter 2


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