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The Lost Middy: Being the Secret of the Smugglers' Gap, a novel by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 20 |
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_ CHAPTER TWENTY. The party from the sloop-of-war came twice, led by the lieutenant, and had long and patient searches with Aleck in their boat ready to follow or lead the men into one or other of the openings in the rocks where the waves ran in with a peculiarly hollow echoing rush at low water, but which were covered deeply at half tide. These chasms were examined diligently, for the lieutenant had noted that the tide was very low when the attack was made. But nothing was discovered. Aleck noted that the young officer looked very despondent on the second occasion, and the next morning when the lad went down to the smugglers' cove to meet the boat, which he had sighted from his look-out place on the cliff, where with Tom's help he had set up a spar ready for signalling, he found another officer in command of a fresh set of men. The lad met them as a matter of course, feeling that his services would be welcome, but encountered a short, sharp rebuff in the shape of an enquiry as to who he was, and, upon explaining, he was told sharply to go about his business. "Look here, sir," said the officer, "I don't want any natives to lead me on a false scent." "Very well," said Aleck, quietly, and he climbed up the cliff again, and after noting which way the boat's head was turned he went off beyond the smugglers' cove and reached the great gap, where he descended to the shelf where he had found the lanthorn and tinder-box. He had just reached it, when a figure started up and began to hurry inland, just giving him a glimpse of her face before she disappeared among the rocks, and he recognised Eben Megg's wife. "Been looking out to sea, poor thing!" thought Aleck. "I'm afraid she'll watch for a long time before she sees him coming back." He forgot the woman again directly in the business of watching the boat, which kept on coming into sight far below and disappearing again, drawing forth the mental remark from Aleck, "Labour in vain," for he felt that all the openings below where he stood had been thoroughly searched. Aleck hung about till the afternoon, and saw the boat shoot off from beyond one of the points in the direction of the sloop lying at anchor, and then went home. The next morning, when he went up to his signalling spar to direct the glass at the sloop, she was not there; but the cutter, which had been absent, lay in about the same place, and after a time the lad made out another boat coming towards the smugglers' cove. "A fresh party," he said to himself. "Well, I should like to help them find the poor fellow, but if they want help they must come and ask me; I'm not going to be snubbed again." He closed his glass and struck off by the shortest way across the head of the smugglers' cove, making once more for the high ground beyond, for it commanded the coast in two directions. But long before he reached his favourite spot he again caught sight of the fluttering blue petticoat of a woman, and saw her hurrying inland. "Poor woman!" thought Aleck. "She needn't be afraid of me." He kept an eye upon her till she disappeared, and then went on to the niche in the rock face, settled himself down with his glass, and watched the cutter's boat, which was steadily pulling in. The birds meanwhile kept on flitting down from where they sat in rows along the inaccessible shelves, skimmed over the water, dived, and came up again with small fishes in their beaks, to return to feed the young, which often enough had been carried off by some great gull, one of the many which glided here and there, uttering their peculiarly querulous, mournful cries, so different in tone from the sharp, hearty calls of the larger inland birds. There were a good many sailing about overhead, Aleck noted, and they were more noisy than usual, and this, judging from old lore which he had picked up from Tom Bodger and the fishermen, he attributed to a coming change in the weather, wind perhaps, when the sea, instead of being soft blue and calm, might be lashed by a storm to send the waves thundering in upon the rocks, to break up into cataracts of broken water and send the glittering foam whirling aloft in clouds. "No more hunts then," thought Aleck; and then aloud to a great white-breasted gull which floated overhead, watching him curiously, "Well, what are you looking at? I've not come egging now." The gull uttered a mournful cry and glided off seaward, to dive down directly after beyond the cliff, its cry sounding distant and faint. The boat came on nearer and nearer till it, too, disappeared, being hidden by the great bluff to his left. Then half a dozen more gulls rose up and came skimming along the rugged trough-like depression towards where he sat, with bird-covered ledges to left and right. When they caught sight of him they rose higher with a graceful curve, and began wheeling round, uttering their discordant cries, some of the more daring coming nearer and nearer upon their widespread spotless wings, white almost as snow, till a sway would send one wing down, the other up, giving the looker-on a glimpse of the soft bluish grey of their backs, save in the cases of the larger birds--the great thieves and pirates among the young--which were often black. There was no boat to watch now, so Aleck, after sweeping the horizon in search of the sloop-of-war, gradually turned the end of his glass inland over the sweep of down and wild moor, till, just as he was in the act of lowering it, he caught sight, some distance off and directly inland, of some object which looked like a short, pudgy, black and white bird sitting upon a rock. "What's that?" he said, steadying the glass which had given him the glimpse in passing over it; but, try he would, he could not catch the object again. "Couldn't have been a rabbit," he muttered. "Fancy, perhaps," and he lowered the glass, to begin closing it as he trusted to his unaided vision and looked in the direction of the grey weathered rocks. "Why, there it is!" he cried. "It's a black bird with a white breast. It must be some big kind of puffin sitting with its feathers stuck-up to dry." He began to focus the glass once more, and raised it to his eye; but he could not get the object in the field of the glass again, nor yet when he lowered it catch a glimpse of that which he sought with his naked eye. Turning away to look down the deep depression, he began to watch the birds again, when he was impressed by the cry of one which seemed to have settled, after passing overhead, somewhere on the open beyond the ridge in which lay the niche containing the old lanthorn. "Ahoy-oy-oy!" he cried, softly, trying to imitate, but with very poor success, the gull's querulous cry. "Tah! tah! That's a jackdaw," said Aleck, half aloud. "Plain enough; but that mournful wail! It must be a different kind of gull. Black-backed perhaps, with a bad cold through getting wet. I wonder whether a gull could be taught to talk! I don't see why not. Let's see, parrots can be taught, of course, and cockatoos learn to say a few words. So do jackdaws and starlings, but very few. Oh, yes! then there's the raven. Uncle said he knew of one at an old country inn that used to say 'Coming, sir,' whenever anyone called for the ostler. Then there are those Indian birds they call Mynahs. Uncle says that some of them talk beautifully. Hallo! There he goes again! It's just like 'Ahoy-oy-oy-oy!' Plain enough to deceive anyone if it came off the sea. I'll wait till I catch sight of the gull that makes that noise, and next nesting-time I'll watch for some of the same kind and get two or three of the young ones to bring up. If they can say what sounds something like 'Ahoy!' so plainly it ought to be possible to teach one to say more." Aleck sat and mused again, running over in his mind such gulls as he knew, and coming to the conclusion that unless it was some unusual specimen, of great vocal powers, it could not be the black-backed nor the lesser black-backed, nor the black-headed herring gull or kittiwake. "I don't know what it is," he said, "but, whatever it may be, it's a good one to talk," and as he listened he heard the peculiar, weird, wailing cry again, sounding something like "Ahoy!" "Gone now," said Aleck, half aloud, as he keenly watched in the direction of the cry, which had now ceased. "It might as well have flown over this way instead of down over the cliff. Hooray! There it goes!" He shaded his eyes to follow the steady regular course of a large bronze black bird flying close down the trough-like depression, as close to the bottom as it could keep clear of the rocks, till it reached the end, where it dipped down towards the sea and disappeared. "Well, I'm a clever one," cried the lad, with a scornful laugh; "lived ever since I can remember close to the sea, and been told the name of every bird that comes here in the winter and in the summer to nest, and didn't know the cry of an old shag. Well, say that cry, for it was very different from the regular croak I know. He had been fishing, having a regular gorge, and ended by swallowing a weevil. The little wretch set up its spines, I suppose, as it was going down and stuck, making the old shag come up there to sit and cough to get rid of it. If ever I'm along with anyone who hears that noise and wants to know what it is I can tell him it's a shag or a cormorant suffering from sore throat." Aleck began to use the glass again, for the cutter's boat came into sight for a few minutes, before gliding along close in once more, to be hidden by the perpendicular cliffs. "Gone," he said to himself. "Well, they will not find the poor fellow, for I don't believe they can search any better than we did. It's very dreadful. Nice, good-looking chap; as clever as clever. Cocky and stuck-up; but what of that? Fellow gets into a uniform and has a cocked hat and a sword, it makes him feel that he is someone of consequence. How horrible, though! Comes along with the boat ashore over that press-gang kidnapping business, and the boat goes back without him. I wonder whether he was better off than I am, with a father and mother! They'll have to know soon, and then I wonder what they'll say!" Aleck gave another look round, sweeping the sea, and carrying his gaze round to the land, and then starting. "There it is again!" he said, eagerly, as his eyes rested upon the distant black and white object inland. "Come, I can get a shot at you this time," he muttered, as, carefully keeping his eyes fixed upon the squat-looking object amongst the rocks, he slowly raised the glass. "I believe it must be a black and white rabbit. There are brown and white ones sometimes, for I've seen them, so I don't see why there shouldn't be black and white. Got you at last, my fine fellow. Ha, ha, ha," he laughed. "How absurd! Why, it's Eben Megg's wife; just her face with the patch of black hair showing above that bit of rock she's hiding behind. Why, she must be watching me. I know; poor thing, she's watching for me to go away so that she can come and look out to sea again for poor Eben." Aleck closed his glass and rose to make his way back along the cliff and leave the place clear, a feeling of gentlemanly delicacy urging him to go right off and not intrude his presence upon one who must be suffering terribly from anxiety and pain. "It seems so dreadful," he mused, as he went right on without once turning his head in the woman's direction; "but somehow it only seems fair that both sides should suffer. She's all in misery because her husband has been dragged away. Yes, he said he'd come back to her, but it's a great chance if she ever sees him again, and it's as great a chance whether that poor young middy's friends ever see him again. I don't like it, and it's a great pity there's so much trouble in the world. Look at poor uncle! Why, I don't know what real trouble is. I might have gone off to sea all in a huff after what uncle said, and then might have come back as badly off as poor old Double Dot. Well, I'm very, very sorry for poor Eben's wife, and--there I go again with my poor Eben. Why should I talk like that about a man who has the character of being a wrecker as well as a smuggler? He was never friendly to me and I quite hate him. But whether the King wants men or whether he doesn't, I just hate Eben so much that if he wanted to escape back to his wife and asked me to help him I'd do it; and just the same, if the smugglers had caught that young middy and were going to ill-use him--kill him perhaps--why, I'd help him too. It's very stupid to be like that perhaps, sort of Jack o' both sides, but I suppose it's how I was made, and it isn't my fault. Why, I say, it must be near dinner-time. How hungry I do feel!" The coast was clear for Eben Megg's wife, and as soon as the lad was out of sight she once more made her way towards the cliff. _ |
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