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Sappers and Miners; The Flood beneath the Sea, a novel by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 19. A Brutal Threat |
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_ CHAPTER NINETEEN. A BRUTAL THREAT Gwyn did not see Joe for a whole week, and he did not go over to the mine, for the Colonel had called him into his room the next morning, and had a very long, serious talk with him, and this was the end of his lesson,-- "Of course, I meant you to go and read for the army, Gwyn, my lad, but this mine has quite upset my plans, and I can't say yet what I shall do about you. It will seem strange for one of our family to take to such a life, but a man can do his duty in the great fight of life as well whether he's a mine owner or a soldier. He has his men to keep in hand, to win their confidence, and make them follow him, and to set them a good example, Gwyn. But I can't say anything for certain. It's all a speculation, and I never shut my eyes to the fact that it may turn out a failure. If it does, we can go back to the old plans." "Yes, father," said the boy, rather dolefully, for his father had stopped as if waiting for him to speak. "But if it turns out a successful, honest venture, you'll have to go on with it, and be my right-hand man. You'll have to learn to manage, therefore, better than ever I shall, for you'll begin young. So we'll take up the study of it a bit, Gwyn, and you shall thoroughly learn what is necessary in geology, and metallurgy and chemistry. If matters come to the worst, you won't make any the worse officer for knowing such matters as these. It's a fine thing, knowledge. Nobody can take that away from you, and the more you use it the richer you get. It never wastes." "No, father," said Gwyn, who began to feel an intense desire now to go on with his reading about the wars of Europe, and the various campaigns of the British army, while the military text-book, which it had been his father's delight to examine him in, suddenly seemed to have grown anything but dry. "Begin reading up about the various minerals that accompany tin ore in quartz, for one thing, and we'll begin upon that text-book, dealing with the various methods of smelting and reducing ores, especially those portions about lead ore, and extracting the silver that is found with it." "Yes, father," said Gwyn, quietly; and the boy set his teeth, wrinkled his brow, and looked hard, for Colonel Pendarve treated his son in a very military fashion. He was kindness and gentleness itself, but his laws were like those of the Medes and Persians done into plain English. But the whole week had passed, and Mrs Pendarve took him to task one morning. "Come, Gwyn," she said, "I am quite sure your father does not wish you to mope over your books, and give up going out to your old amusements." "Doesn't he, mother?" said the boy, drearily. "Of course not. What has become of Joe Jollivet? He has not been near you." "In the black books, too, I suppose," said Gwyn, bitterly. "Major's been giving it to him." "Gwyn, I will not have you talk like that," said his mother. "You boys both deserve being taken to task for your reckless folly. You forget entirely the agony you caused me when I heard of what had taken place." "I didn't want to cause you agony, mother," pleaded the boy. "I know that, my dear, but you have been growing far too reckless of late. Now be sensible, and go on as if there had been no trouble between your father and you. I wish it. Try and grasp the spirit in which your father's reproofs were given." "All right, mother, I will," said Gwyn; and his face brightened up once more. The consequence was that he went out into the yard, and unchained the dog, with very great difficulty, for the poor beast was nearly mad with excitement directly it realised the fact that it was going out with its master for a run; and as soon as they entered the lane, set off straight for the Major's gates, stopping every now and then to look round, and to see if Gwyn was going there. But half-way up the hill Gwyn turned off on to the rough granite moorland, and Grip had to come back a hundred yards to the place where his master had turned off, and dashed after him. It didn't matter to the dog, for there was some imaginary thing to hunt wherever they went; and as soon as he saw that he was on the right track, he began hunting most perseveringly. For Gwyn did not want to go to the Major's. He felt that he would like to see Joe and have a good long talk with him, as well as compare notes; but if he had gone to the house, he would have had to see the Major, and that gentleman would doubtless have something to say that would not be pleasant to him--perhaps blame him for Joe getting into difficulties. No, he did not want to go to the Major's. "Like having to take another dose," he said to himself, and he went on toward the old circle of granite stones which had been set up some long time back, before men began to write the history of their deeds. It lay about a mile from the cove, high up on the windy common among the furze bushes, and was a capital place for a good think. For you could climb up on the top of the highest stone, look right out to sea, and count the great vessels going up and down channel, far away on the glittering waters--large liners which left behind them long, thin clouds of smoke; stately ships with all sail set; trim yachts; and the red-sailed fishing fleet returning from their cruise round the coast, where the best places for shooting their nets were to be found. It was quite a climb up to the old stones, which were not seen from that side till you were close upon them, for they stood in a saucer-like hollow in the highest part of the ridge, and beyond, there was one of the deep gullies with which that part of Cornwall was scored--lovely spots, along which short rivulets made their way from the high ground down to the sea. Grip knew well enough now where his master was making for, and dashed forward as if certain that that mysterious object which he was always hunting had hidden itself away among the stones, and soon after a tremendous barking was heard. "Rabbit," muttered Gwyn; and for a few moments he felt disposed to begin running and join the dog in the chase. But he did not, for, in spite of being out there on the breezy upland, where all was bright and sunny, he felt dull and disheartened. Things were not as he could wish, for he had just begun to feel old enough to bear upon the rein when it was drawn tight, and to long to have the bit in his teeth and do what he liked. The Colonel had been pleasant enough that morning, but he had not invited him to go to the mine; and it felt like a want of trust in him. So Gwyn felt in no humour for sport of any kind; he did not care to look out at the ships, and speculate upon what port they were bound for; he picked up no stones to send spinning at the grey gulls; did not see that the gorse was wonderfully full of flower; and did not even smell the wild thyme as he crushed it beneath his feet. There were hundreds of tiny blue and copper butterflies flitting about, and a great hawk was havering overhead; but everything seemed as if his mind was out of taste and the objects he generally loved were flavourless. All he felt disposed to do was to turn himself into a young modern ascetic, prick his legs well in going through the furze, and then take a little bark off his shins in climbing twenty feet up on to the great monolith, and there sit and grump. "Bother the dog, what a row he's making!" he muttered. "I wish I hadn't brought him." Then his lips parted to shout to Grip to be quiet, but he did not utter the words, for he stopped short just as he neared the first stone of the circle, on hearing the dog begin to bark furiously again, and a savage voice roar loudly,-- "Get out, or I'll crush your head with this stone!" _ |
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