Chapter THE TENTH: The Fire Bell at the Towers (1)

Next day the escape of Jean Delarousse, smuggler and privateer, was the talk of the countryside. The dragoons had called at the Towers and roused the Squire from bed, supposing that he was a magistrate and would assist them. Then they rode for several miles across the moor until they came to Sir Bevil Portharvan's house. That gentleman promised to raise the hue and cry next day, and called up his servants to ask if any of them had seen a carriage cross the moor that evening. The groom declared that as he rode back from an errand in Truro he had seen a moving light some distance to the left, concluding that it probably proceeded from a belated carrier's cart on the way to Polkerran. On this the troopers galloped back, and seeing a light in the Dower House they called there and acquainted John Trevanion with their errand. He guessed at once that the fugitive had been in the carriage which had turned into his drive, and inwardly cursed his ill-luck in missing the opportunity of laying by the heels a man whose recapture would have rejoiced him; but having reasons of his own for not disclosing his knowledge of the man, he forbore to mention the earlier incident, and contented himself with wishing the pursuers success. When they had gone he cloaked himself and followed them down the hill, being but a few hundred yards behind Dick, whom he did not see in the darkness and the twists and turns of the road.

There was not a man in the village but suspected that the Frenchman had got away on Tonkin's lugger; but not one of them would have said a word to betray him. Delarousse was not an enemy, but a friend with whom they had profitable dealings. When Sir Bevil rode down and questioned Doubledick and others, it was clear to him from their manner that they would give no information; and guessing, when he heard that Tonkin had sailed early that morning, that the Frenchman had gone with him, he was rather relieved than otherwise, for, like all the gentry around, he bought his liquor cheap, and was never depressed when the revenue officers were outwitted.

Two days passed. Sam Pollex reported that there was a subdued air of excitement in the village. Mr. Polwhele, the riding-officer, was seen speaking to Penwarden, and the revenue cutter, which had been absent for some time, once more anchored in the little harbour. Mr. Mildmay did not come ashore: he seldom did so during the smuggling season; but one of his men trudged up the hill to Penwarden's cottage, and did not return. These facts made Dick tingle with excitement: but the Squire had forbidden him to go near the smugglers again, so that he was unable to keep watch for the run which he, like everyone else in Polkerran, expected to take place.

On the third morning, when Dick was tramping over the cliff with his gun towards a cleft where he had heard that a pair of choughs had nested, he saw Penwarden smoking on the bench beside his cottage door.

"Morning to 'ee, Maister Dick," he said.

"Good morning, Joe. You look very spry," replied Dick genially.

"Well, and I feel spry, to be sure. Haven't 'ee heard?"

"Heard what?"

"Why, how we brought up the smugglers wi' a round turn last night."

"Did you? Tell me about it, Joe. I wish I had seen it, but Father won't let me out of the house at night now."

"Why for, maister?"

"Because I got home very late the other night, and he's afraid I shall get my head broken, I think, now that the folks are so set against us."

"'Tis a very wise commandment of the Squire. Well, I'll tell 'ee. Never was they so flambustered afore. When I seed _Isaac and Jacob_ goin' off so merry t'other morning, I guessed she wouldn't come back empty, the wind favourin' and all. So what do I do but put on my considerin' cap----"

"That means a pipe and a bowl of rum, doesn't it?" said Dick with a laugh.

"I won't say but it do. Thinks I, now where will they try to run their cargo? Tonkin went off in a 'nation hurry, and the reason o't you know as well as I, but we won't speak o' that. There warn't time for him to fix up with the shoremen, leastways with many of 'em, afore he went, so thinks I, Zacky won't try to carry his kegs inland. What then? Why, she'd sink 'em somewheres off the coast, and let 'em lay till he gets a chance o' liftin' 'em. I've knowed a crop o' goods lay for a month afore they could be lifted."

"Doesn't it spoil the spirits?" asked Dick.

"It do, if the tubs lay too long. Then the spirits be stinkibus and fit for nothing. Howsomever, they'll sink 'em, thinks I, and what's to be the place? Well, I mind that ten year or more ago they dropped a big crop just beyond St. Cuby's Cove, and got 'em clean away in two nights, while Mr. Curgenven was playin' cat and mouse miles down the coast. Says I to myself, that's the very place."

"But how did you know it ten years ago?"

"By one or two things I noticed when I went a-rambling at foot of cliffs; trifles I could hardly tell 'ee of. That's the very place, says I, so I has a little talk with Mr. Polwhele, and he made it known to Mr. Mildmay, and betwixt us we hitched up a pretty scheme to circumvent 'em. And I was right, and wrong too, as you'll see.

"Well, we sent over to Plymouth for a half-troop of dragoons, and put them in Penruddock's empty farmhouse on the moor yonder. They came quiet last night, and not a soul knowed about 'em. You see, 'twas only my calcerlation as Tonkin wouldn't try a run, and 'twas best to be on the safe tack, as you may say. Wi' the dragoons on shore, and Mr. Mildmay at sea, we reckoned we'd spoil their game, whether 'twas sinkin' or runnin'. When 'twas dark, we brought the sojers down to shore, and put 'em among the rocks on each side of where I thought 'twould happen. I had a sort o' suspicion that the smugglers had a hiding-place somewhere along shore thereabouts, though I'd never been able to find it."

"What made you suspect that?"

"Because we grappled for the sunk crop two days arter 'twas sunk, but 'twas gone; yet 'twas more than a week arterwards afore the stuff was carr'd into the country, so it must ha' been hid somewhere. Well, we had waited some hours, and the cutter had sailed away down the coast to put 'em off the scent, when just afore six bells we heard the creakin' o' the lugger's gear, and I knowed I was right. At the same time the fellers come creepin' round the cliff from the village. 'Twas to be a run arter all. Our plan was to let 'em get warm to work, and not pounce on 'em till we'd seed where their hiding-place was. Mr. Mildmay meant to fetch about and come on 'em from seaward, while the sojers took 'em from landwards.

"Drown it all, 'twas ruined--ruined, I say; but 'twas not so bad as that neither--'twas almost ruined, by a sappy landlubber of a sojer. The unloadin' was goin' on as merry as you please when this soft stunpoll of a chap let out a sneeze fit to blow yer gaff off. 'Twas all up then; no good waiting for Mr. Mildmay; the smugglers' look-outs heard the tishum and gave the alarm. Mr. Polwhele blew his whistle for the attack, and we pounced out from our lairs, sojers and tidesmen, and dashed upon 'em from two sides at once.

"Some of 'em dropped their tubs like hot taters, and slipped off in the darkness. But the rest stood their ground like men, and there was a tidy little tumble, pistols cracking, cutlasses flashing----"

"How could they flash in the dark?" said Dick.

"You could hear 'em if you couldn't see 'em, and I don't care who the man is, I call that flashin'. There was some pretty wounds dinted on both sides, but as 'ee med think, the sojers' swordplay was a trifle more learned than the free-traders', and arter some time we King's men got the better o't, and they couldn't stand against us no longer. But that sneeze: why couldn't the feller clap it under for five minutes more? We catched nine of the smugglers, and laid them tied hand and foot on the beach. But the rest got away, and drown it all, Tonkin was one of 'em. I knowed un by his size, and a sojer and I and some more had him betwixt us, but he let out with those sledge-hammer fists of his, spun a sojer this way and a tidesman that, and by long and short broke his moorings and swam out to the lugger. If that sneeze hadn't come so soon Mr. Mildmay would have been there with the cutter, and we should ha catched the whole crew. But 'twas not to be. By the time the cutter fetched up, the lugger was well out to sea, and we lost her. But we've got the nine men, who'll have to choose betwixt gaol and the King's service, and I've chalked the broad arrow on twenty-four tubs, which be now half-way to the King's store at St. Ives."

"And did you discover the hiding-place?"

"Chok' it all, we did not. Maybe there's no such thing. But 'twas a proper tit-for-tat for the knock they give me, and I reckon 'twill be some time afore they fly their colours again."

"'Tis the biggest haul you've ever made, isn't it?" asked Dick.

"We've got more tubs afore, but never so many men. I'm a deal more cheerful in my mind than I used to be. We are doing the King's work better in these parts than 'twas done in Mr. Curgenven's time, and I hope them above will remember it."

Dick went on. He was pleased for the old man's sake that he was so well succeeding in his duty; but at the same time was full of misgiving as to the hatred his energy would breed among the village folk.

When he returned later in the day from a vain quest for the choughs, Sam Pollex told him that the village was seething with rage, and everybody was asking what had become of Doubledick. He was not among the nine men who had been carted to Plymouth; search had been made for his dead body on the shore; it was known that he had been among the tub-carriers, but nobody had seen him since the fight.

The mystery was solved at nightfall. The inn-keeper, dressed as a peaceable fisherman, trudged into the village with a fat goose on his back, and declared with a wink that he had been on a short visit to his friend Farmer Nancarrow, five miles distant. His cronies knew that Doubledick had adopted this course as a blind to the revenue officers if they made an inquisitive visit to his inn. However strong their suspicions, they could not proceed against him with any chance of success. They were in the same difficulty in regard to Tonkin, whom none could swear to, his face having been blackened. Nor could it be proved even that it was his lugger which had brought the cargo. When the _Isaac and Jacob_ came into the harbour next day and was boarded by the revenue officers, it contained nothing but a few hundredweight of fish; and though grappling operations were conducted in St. Cuby's Cove, and for some distance on each side of it, no discovery of sunken tubs was made.

It was a fact, often remarked on in after days by the Polkerran folk, that the only spectator on the jetty when Tonkin's lugger put in--exclusive of the revenue officers, a toothless old fisher, Ike Pendry's sweetheart, and a handful of children--was Mr. John Trevanion. He seemed to be in the top of good humour; joked with Mr. Mildmay, gave the old fisher a plug of tobacco, favoured Marty Bream with an admiring glance, and chucked the children under the chin. When the lieutenant's examination was concluded, and Tonkin came ashore, a free man, but under suspicion, Mr. Trevanion had a word for him too, asked to see his catch, and bought some of the finest of the fish. Then with a nod to Mr. Mildmay he strolled with easy gait up the hill.

That Tonkin himself, an hour or two later, should carry his fish to the Dower House was natural enough, but it was not perhaps quite so natural that, having delivered them to Susan for transmission to the cook, he should have been asked to step into the house and taken to the master's own room. Nor was it likely, when he was let out at the front door by Mr. Trevanion an hour later, that the conversation which had passed between them in the interim had for its subject nothing but fish. Nobody in Polkerran knew of this visit, or some intelligent person might have suspected that it had a connection with a remarkable change that came about in the villagers' manner of regarding Monsieur Jean Delarousse. Hitherto they had looked upon him as a keen man of business, with whom it was as safe as it was honourable to have dealings of a free-trade nature. But from that day they cherished a sour distrust of him; they resolved to do business with him no longer, and to transfer their custom to another merchant of Roscoff, whose name is of no importance in this history. In this transference they followed the lead of Tonkin, blindly--all but Doubledick, who swam with the current, indeed, so far as outward appearances went; but in the privacy of his own cunning mind, buzzing still with the recollection of what he had heard through the keyhole of his parlour door, indulged in speculations of a very tantalising nature, and wondered what Maister John's little game was.

Whether the relation of cause and effect existed between this meeting of Trevanion and Tonkin, and an event that took place a few hours later at the Towers, is a matter on which the reader may presently form his own conclusion.

Dick had gone to bed a little earlier than usual, tired out after a long tramp over the moor in search of wild fowl. His room faced the sea, and he had left his window open, as his practice was except in stormy weather. In the dead of night he suddenly found himself awake, and wondered why, for he had not been dreaming, nor was he conscious of having heard a sound. But in a few seconds he was aware of an unusual smell, that appeared to be wafted through the window on the sea breeze. It was the smell of burning wood. He leapt out of bed, ran to the casement, and looked out over a row of outhouses that extended for some yards from the dwelling towards the cliff. One glance was sufficient. The tool-house at the furthermost end was on fire.

Quickly pulling on his breeches, he ran to the adjoining room, occupied by Sam, hauled the snoring boy from his bed, shook him vigorously, and cried--

"The tool-house is on fire! Run to the turret and pull the bell. Quick! The breeze is off the sea, and we shall have the whole place in a blaze."

Then he rushed to Reuben's room on the lower floor, wakened the old man, and told him to fill every bucket he could find with water from the well. Lastly, he ran to his parents, breaking the news gently so as not to terrify his mother. By this time the alarm bell was clanging its quick strokes out into the night.

Dick ran out of the house to the well-head near the dismantled stables, where Reuben already had two buckets filled and was still pumping vigorously. He caught up the buckets, hurried to the conflagration, and flung the water on the flames. But it was clear that they had got such a hold upon the shed that to extinguish them with water laboriously pumped from the well would be impossible. The wind was steadily carrying the fire toward the main building, and unless the blaze could be checked within a few minutes, the old place was doomed.

To fetch more water would, Dick saw, be a waste of time. What could be done? Between the burning tool-shed and the dwelling-house was a long wooden structure that contained the brew-house and a shed in which Reuben kept vegetables, grain for the pigs, and other materials. Dick remembered that the brew-house, though substantially built, was worm-eaten, and, like the rest of the Towers, had not been repaired within memory. Acting on an idea which had suddenly struck him, he ran at full speed to the scullery, brought thence a rope and, returning, made his way with it through the smoke into the brew-house, and attached it firmly to one of the stout timbers supporting the roof.

The Squire had now come upon the scene.

"We must pull down the brew-house, Father," cried Dick. "'Tis the only chance to prevent the flames from spreading."

Together they hauled upon the rope. The timber did not give an inch. They summoned Reuben to assist them, but the oak, worm-eaten though it was, resisted their united efforts.

"Once more! Pull all together," cried Dick in despair. The post did not move.

"Ha, Squire!" shouted a voice behind, "I see what you are about. 'Tis a good notion. Give me a hold."

"Polwhele, 'tis you. We'll be glad of your arm."

"Did you ride, sir?" cried Dick eagerly.

"I did," replied the riding-officer. "Egad! I see your meaning. My horse is hitched to the fence. I'll bring him in a second."

He ran off, returning soon with his horse, which pranced and snorted when it came within the smoke and heat. Mr. Polwhele and Dick knotted the rope to the animal's collar, while the Squire covered its eyes with his coat. They turned its head away from the flames, and smote its flanks. It started forward, almost escaping from the grasp of Mr. Polwhele, who held it by the bridle. The post, already weakened by the previous straining, gave at last, and a portion of the roof fell in with a crash. The same operation was performed on a similar post in the opposite corner. This was brought down at the first pull, and all that remained of the brew-house was a heap of laths, beams, tiles, and broken utensils.

They proceeded then to smother the ruins with water and earth, paying no heed to the blazing tool-house. After some twenty minutes the flames began to subside; they poured more water, as quickly as it could be drawn, on the glowing ruins, and had the satisfaction of seeing that the demolition of the brew-house had been effective. The fire spread no further; the Towers was saved.

Panting and perspiring with their exertions, the four men stood for a while in silence, watching the gradual dwindling of the flames.

"That bell may stop," cried Mr. Polwhele suddenly. "'Tis well pulled, whoever is doing it, but to little good, it seems. 'Pon my soul, I'm the only man that has come to its call."

"Ah! You see how things are with me," said the Squire bitterly. "Not a soul cares whether the Towers burns to the ground, and I and mine in it. I remember, forty years ago, when the place took fire, the bell brought the whole village to our help. Now they'll lie abed and laugh to think I'm homeless."

"'Tis a disgrace and a scandal," cried the riding-officer, "and I'll tell them so. The idiots, to suppose you would inform on them! I'll set that right, Squire; I blame myself for not doing it before, but I believed they would come to their senses."

"You will waste your breath, Polwhele. Don't attempt it for me. I could tell you one way to dash their enmity, but that's impossible."

"What is it?"

"Send John Trevanion where he came from. 'Tis he that is poisoning folks' minds against us; yes, 'tis he."

At this point Dick returned from the house, whither he had been to stop the ringing of the bell. Sam came with him.

"Now, young Sam," said his father wrathfully, "'twas you that started this blaze, I'll be bound, wi' yer mischief and jiggery. I'll leather 'ee, that I will."

"Be choked if I did!" was Sam's indignant cry. "Why do 'ee say it, Feyther? You think because I break a dish now and again that I do all the mischief, but I don't care who the man is, I hain't been nigh tool-house or brew-house this mortal day."

"Then who did it? Tell me that."

"I can't tell what I don't know, but if I med put a meanin' to it, I'd say 'twas done by the same hands as cut our lines and set our boat adrift, be drowned to 'em."

"By heaven, I see it!" cried the Squire, smiting one fist with the other. "'Tis part of the scheme, Polwhele. They will stick at nothing. Penwarden caught young Tonkin cutting Dick's lines, as you know, and I thrashed him. They avenge him by firing my house. I'll clap them in jail; unpopular as I am, the justices can't refuse to punish such a crime."

"You've no proof, Squire," said Mr. Polwhele. "You can't arrest the whole village on suspicion. And now I think of it, if it is as you say, there is no need to suppose your cousin is at the bottom of it. You have no proof."

The Squire was silent. Mr. Polwhele's view was no doubt that which would be taken by the majority of people. Mr. Trevanion was conscious of the weakness of his position, and regretted that in his impulsiveness and resentment he had spoken so freely. The only facts upon which his conviction of his cousin's venomous treachery depended were the purchase of the mortgages and the subsequent fencing-in of the acquired property, and neither singly nor in combination were these strong enough to justify his accusation before reasonable people.

"Well, well," said the Squire at last, "I may be wrong. I say no more about it. But this persecution has gone far enough, and 'tis time it was stopped, though how to stop it I know no more than the dead."

"I'll see what I can do, Squire. The Towers is saved, and glad I am of it. 'Tis to be hoped the wretches will try their tricks no more."

He mounted and rode away, the Squire having warmly thanked him for his assistance. The four inmates of the Towers then returned to their beds.

"You did well, Dick," said the Squire as they parted. "'Twas a good thought of yours to pull down the posts; without it we might have been burnt out. We'll hold fast to the old place a while longer, my lad."

To his wife he related all that had happened, and mentioned what Mr. Polwhele had said about his suspicion of John Trevanion.

"I've no proof, that's true; but in my heart I know it; time will show whether I'm right or wrong."

CHAPTER THE ELEVENTH

Sir Bevil Intervenes

Soon after breakfast next morning Dick and Sam went down to the shore to launch their boat for a day's fishing. The post to which it was moored being close under the cliffs, they did not come in sight of it until they reached the foot of the winding path. Then Sam, who was walking ahead, uttered a cry.

"What is it?" asked Dick, hurrying on.

"Scrounch it all, look 'ee, Maister Dick!"

The boat lay on the white sand, but it was a navigable vessel no longer. It had been sawn across in three places. The old craft, which had withstood for forty years the battering of innumerable waves and the more insidious attacks of time, and in which three generations of Trevanions had sailed upon the deep, would be launched no more. It would henceforth serve no useful end except as firewood.

Dick felt first a pang of grief, then a surge of bitter rage. His enemies could not have chosen a more galling or vindictive means of wreaking their ill-will. They had dealt with the boat as the smugglers' craft were dealt with when captured by the revenue officers. Dick saw in their act a subtle indication of the thoroughness with which they identified him with the Government men. It said: "You have joined the revenue officers; very well, we treat you as they treat us." He had no doubt that the destruction of the boat and the firing of the tool-house were parts of one scheme.

"The cowards!" he exclaimed, "to do behind our backs what they durst not do to our face."

"'Tis a miserable, dirty deed," agreed Sam. "We must tell of it to the high powers."

"Much good that will be!" cried Dick bitterly. "We can't tell who did it; Sir Bevil will only instruct Petherick, and he is too much of a fool ever to find out, if he wanted to, which is unlikely. We can do nothing, Sam."

"How can we go fishing now?" said Sam gloomily. "'Tis takin' the bread out of our mouth, that's what it is. They mean us to starve, the wretches."

The loss of the boat was indeed a serious blow to the family at the Towers. The principal source of their food supply was cut off. In the present state of war between them and the villagers it would be impossible to borrow a boat, and the only place from which the boys could now fish the sea was the head of the jetty, where they would come into awkward contact with the hostile fishermen.

Dick examined the segments, with a lingering hope that even now old Reuben, who had so often patched and caulked the boat, might be able to repair it. But the destroyers had done their work only too well; he turned away without a word, and gloomily wended his way homeward.

As he walked towards the house, he saw a horseman riding down the road towards the village. At a second glance he recognised him as Sir Bevil Portharvan. When he reached home his father told him that Mr. Polwhele had ridden over to Portharvan House very early, and informed Sir Bevil of the night's occurrence. That gentleman had never been on more than speaking terms with Squire Trevanion; it is not easy for a wealthy man to be cordial with one who has gone down in the world and yet retains his pride. Sir Bevil disapproved of the Squire's attitude to his cousin, which seemed to him the outcome of sheer envy. But he was sufficiently loyal to his class to be greatly incensed at the criminal action of which the riding officer told him, and he promised to exert his influence as a magistrate to prevent any further proceedings of the same kind.

He rode to the Towers, learnt the particulars from the Squire's lips, and, having coldly expressed his sympathy, went on. As he came to the Dower House it occurred to him to see John Trevanion, whom he had met often of late, and ask him to use his efforts to put down the persecution. Trevanion's attitude was admirably correct. He acknowledged that he was on bad terms with the Squire; deplored the breach, which was not of his making; and promised to let it be known in the village that he disapproved of such violent measures as the people had recently taken. That was as much as he could do. Sir Bevil went away feeling that John Trevanion was an excellent fellow, and regarding his own errand even more in the light of a troublesome duty than he had done before.

From the Dower House he went straight to the inn, which was the focus of the village life, and the place from which his views would radiate with every man who left it after drinking his ale, cider, or brandy. Reining up at the door, he called Doubledick forth.

"Good mornin', yer honour," said the innkeeper, rubbing his hands deferentially as he obeyed the great man's command.

"Look here, Doubledick," said Sir Bevil bluntly, "I've heard of what went on at the Towers last night. That sort of thing won't do, you know; it must be stopped, and you can tell your customers I say so. Free-trading is all very well, but arson is an ugly word and a hanging matter; and, egad! if any man is caught playing such low tricks, and brought before me, he'll get no mercy, I promise you. Make that clear, will you?"

"Iss sure, Sir Bevil," replied the innkeeper. "'Twas a cruel deed, the Squire bein' so cast down and all. I'll tell the folks yer very words, sir, that I will."

"That's right. I saw Mr. John Trevanion on the way down, and he agreed with me, so there will be an eye on the village nearer than mine."

"Oh, if you seed Maister John, Sir Bevil, 'tis as good as seein' the Lord High Constable o' the county, I warrant 'ee. Folks think a deal o' Maister John, they do."

A keener observer than Sir Bevil might have detected a spice of irony in Doubledick's remark. But the baronet was satisfied, and after yielding to the innkeeper's invitation to take a glass to help him on his homeward journey, he rode off with the comfortable sense of having done his duty.

When Dick went to the Parsonage that afternoon for his usual lesson, he told Mr. Carlyon all that had happened. On the next Sunday the vicar preached an excellent sermon from the text, "Cursed be he that removeth his neighbour's landmark," which the women listened to without understanding, the men going to sleep as usual.

The loss of the boat caused something like consternation among the inmates of the Towers. The Squire could not afford to buy a new one; how was the necessary fishing to be carried on? This problem taxed the wits of Dick, who lay awake for two nights pondering and puzzling. Then the thought came to him, why not build a boat? He had never attempted such a ticklish piece of work, but he was pretty handy with tools, and the idea of setting his wits against the machinations of the enemy fixed his resolution.

He remembered sorrowfully that with the burnt tool-house had perished his tools and the carpenter's bench at which he had been accustomed to work. But he could borrow the necessary implements from Petherick, the sexton, who did all the repairs required at the church and the Parsonage. There was no lack of timber in the planking of the ruined portion of the Towers. The most formidable obstacle was his absolute ignorance of the art of boat-building, but a means of overcoming that soon suggested itself.

The Polkerran fishers obtained their boats from St. Ives, fifteen or sixteen miles away. A tramp of that distance was nothing to a healthy lad, so, early one morning, taking some bread and cheese in a wallet, and telling no one of his intention, Dick set off. It was a raw November day; the road was wet and muddy, and as Dick passed under the trees along the route his face and neck were bespattered by the drippings from their bare boughs. But he made light of such ordinary discomforts of winter; the swinging pace at which he walked set his blood coursing, and by the time he arrived at St. Ives his whole body was in a healthy glow. He entered an inn and moistened his dry fare with a glass of ale, then found his way to the principal boat-builder's yard, and stood looking on as the workmen sawed and planed and hammered. The builder had no secret to guard; his yard was open to any one who cared to visit it. He gave Dick a friendly greeting; the men threw a glance at him, and went on with their work and their gossip as unconcernedly as though he were not there.

Having spent several hours thus, strolling through the town to warm himself while the men were at dinner, he set off in the afternoon on his long tramp homeward, going over in his head the details of the operations he had witnessed. Next day he appeared in the yard at the same time. The master-builder himself was absent, and there was a shade of surprise in the men's expression of face as they saw him enter; but, as before, they paid no attention to him, and showed neither interest nor curiosity.

On the third day, however, when he again made his appearance, their rustic stolidity was penetrated at last.

"Mornin' to 'ee, sonny," said the foreman builder, a cheerful-looking veteran of sixty; "you be as regular as church-clock, to be sure."

Dick smiled and returned the man's greeting.

"You will know a boat from keel to gunwale," continued the foreman.

"That's what I've come for," said Dick.

"Well, now, think o' that!"

"Didn't I tell 'ee so, gaffer?" remarked one of the men.

"True, you did, and a clever seein' eye you have got, Ben."

"And _I_ said 'a was not a common poor man," said another. "That's what _I_ said, bean't it, Ben?"

"Iss, fay, they was yer very words."

"Well, sir," said the foreman, "seein' that these clever fellers have seed so far into ye, maybe you'll tell what's your hidden purpose in lookin' at we."

"I'm learning how to build a boat," replied Dick.

"Good now! You never thought o' that, Ben, clever as ye be, I warrant 'ee. Well, sonny--sir, I mean--I've been nigh fifty year larnin' to build a boat, and I bean't done larnin' yet."

"That's bad news, because I want to build one in a week or two."

"Well, I won't say but you can make some sort of a tub in the time, but 'twill be a wambly figure o' fun, and be very useful for givin' ye a sea-bath. Ha! ha!"

"There's no harm in trying, though," said Dick, good-humouredly. "Perhaps if you'd let me try my hand I might pick up a notion or two."

"I don't mind if I do. Just set they thwarts in the splines; that's a little small job, and we'll see how 'ee do set about it."

Dick stripped off his coat, rolled up his sleeves, and proceeded to perform the task given him, the foreman watching him critically the while.

"Not so bad," he said when the job was finished. "I won't say but Maister will cuss when he do see it, but 'tis not so bad for a young feller; what do 'ee say, my sonnies?"

The men left their work and inspected Dick's, twisting their necks, pressing their lips together, and showing other marks of solemn consideration. They pronounced the work pretty good, and declared they wouldn't have believed it.

The foreman gave Dick other little jobs to do, and being more pleased with the lad's handiness than he had admitted, he took pains to instruct him. Dick learnt about ribs and splines; how to steam the ribs and give the necessary "flare"; the difficulty of getting the planking to "fly" to a true curve without "shramming"; and many other technical details which dashed his hope of being able to build a boat in a week.

"Don't 'ee go and set up for a boat-builder, though," said the foreman pleasantly. "Maister will werrit if he do think the bread 'll be took out of his mouth."

"No fear of that," replied Dick laughing. "I only want to build a boat for myself, to replace an old one I lost."

"Well, I will say 'tis a right good notion to build one yerself instead o' buyin' one, though 'twouldn't do for we if everybody was so handy."

Dick's journeys to and fro between Polkerran and St. Ives extended over ten days. His absences greatly puzzled Sam, but Dick gave no explanation until he felt that he had learned enough to make a start, and decided to visit the boat-builder's no more. He was not so foolish as to suppose that he had mastered the trade, but believed he knew enough to enable him to construct a boat that would serve his simple purpose. Then one morning he set Sam to collect a number of sound planks from the floors and wainscoting in the unused rooms at the Towers, and having borrowed from Petherick the tools necessary to supplement those that Reuben had, he began his task.

Day by day for a fortnight the lads worked steadily, using the dilapidated stables for their workshop. Occasionally the Squire and Reuben stood by and criticised; old Penwarden, too, looked in and offered a more or less impracticable suggestion. Once when Dick was at a loss how to proceed, he trudged to St. Ives to consult the foreman.

"What, Maister, has she sunk a'ready?" said the man with twinkling eyes, as Dick entered.

He obtained the information he desired, and within a few days afterwards the boat was finished. Nobody at the Towers, except her makers, believed that she would float. How to get her down to the water was at first a baffling problem. She was too heavy and cumbersome to be carried down the cliff-path by the boys, and they would not seek assistance from the villagers. It was Mr. Carlyon that solved the difficulty. He suggested that the boat should be conveyed on a farmer's wagon to a dell about four miles northward, where a stream flowed into the sea. This was done early one morning, the farmer, a friend of the Vicar's, being bound to secrecy. They launched the boat on the stream, and Sam gave a whoop of delight on seeing that she rode fairly upright. With a couple of spare sculls from their nook on the Beal, they pulled her out to sea, and Dick was pardonably proud of his handiwork when she proved quite seaworthy, if somewhat lumbering.

"She's not very pretty, but she's strong," he said to Sam, "and that is all we need trouble about."

During the weeks in which Dick had been thus occupied, no further annoyance was suffered from the villagers. Sir Bevil's warning had apparently taken effect. Penwarden reported that two more serious checks had been given to the smugglers. Once they had been interrupted in the act of running a cargo at Lunnan Cove, some miles to the south, and a hundred tubs had been seized by Mr. Mildmay. A few days later, the cutter had gone in chase of a lugger in a stiff gale, and the seamanship of the smugglers being at least equal to that of the King's men, the quarry had escaped. But her crew, not daring to run the cargo while the revenue officers were on the alert, had sunk the tubs, which were always carried ready slung to meet such an emergency, in five fathoms of water beyond St. Cuby's Cove. In their hurry, however, the work was not done so carefully as usual, with the result that one of the tubs was chafed off the sinking rope, drifted about, and next morning was descried by Penwarden from the cliff. He informed Mr. Mildmay. The shallow water along the shore was systematically searched, and the whole cargo was hooked up by means of "creeps," as the grapnels were called. Rumour, reaching the Towers by way of the Parsonage, said that on both these occasions Tonkin was the freighter, so that his loss by the successive failures was probably not far short of L300.

Tidings came, also, by the local carrier, of renewed activity on the part of the _Aimable Vertu_ in the Channel. A revenue cruiser had fought an action with her off the Lizard, and was worsted, her commander being wounded, and the vessel only escaping by running in shore to shallow water, where the privateer could not follow. The authorities, already deeply incensed by the escape of Delarousse from Plymouth, were furious at this recurrence of his depredations, and had offered a high price for information of his movements, and a still higher reward to any officer who should capture him.

For a few days Dick laid up his new boat, when fishing was done, in the mouth of the little stream on which he had launched it, tramping back with Sam over the four miles to the Towers. But this became irksome, and he tried to think of some means of keeping the craft nearer home without running the risk of its destruction by the smugglers. After a good deal of anxious consideration he hit upon the idea of building a shed for it on the beach at the foot of the cliff.

"Jown me if I see the good o' 't," said Sam, when Dick explained his plan. "They'll break into the shed, or fire it, if they want to, and we'll lose our boat and our labour too."

"But I've thought of a way of preventing that, Sam. They won't interfere with it in daylight: 'tis only the night we need fear. Well, we'll make 'em give us warning of any trick they play."

"I don't see how, unless they be born fools."

"They're not fools: far from it: but they might be a trifle sharper in the wits, perhaps. If it comes to scheming, I think we can beat 'em, Sam. We'll build the shed close under the house. Now listen. We'll make the door to open outwards, and tie a strand of sewing thread to the bottom, running it through hooks along the wall and out at the back of the shed. There we'll tie it to a fishing-line, and round a pulley up to the cliff-top, taking care to keep it off the rock by making it run through notches in sticks of wood. At the top we'll have another pulley, and at the foot of the house wall another, and so carry it into my bedroom. There we'll fasten it to a weight--a poker will do; which we'll sling up beside the window. We'll put a tea-tray underneath it, d' you see? so that if the shed door is pulled open the thread will break, the poker will fall, and make such a clatter that we are bound to hear it all over the house."

Sam broke into laughter.

"Ha! ha! it do mind me of the old 'ooman and little crooked sixpence," he cried. "Do 'ee mind, Maister Dick? 'Cat began to kill the rat, rat began to gnaw the rope,' and so on till th' old 'ooman got home at last. My life, 'tis a noble notion! What a headpiece you have got, to be sure! But, scrounch it all, won't they see the line?"

"I don't think so. 'Tis so much the colour of the rock that it will escape notice."

"True. But s'pose we do hear a clatter-bang. That won't stop 'em from hauling out the boat, and we couldn' get down the cliff in time to save her."

"I'd thought of that. We'll fix up a booby-trap over the door."

"Never heerd o't. What be a booby-trap?"

"'Tis a thing that Mr. Carlyon told me of, a trick he used to play when he was a young fellow at college. You fix above the doorway something that will tumble down when the door is opened, and come plump on the head of any one entering. That will stagger them, and while they are recovering their wits we shall have time to run down. You may be sure they'll run away before we get to them, for if we recognize them they'll have Sir Bevil to reckon with."

"Ha! ha!" laughed Sam. "That 'ud be a funny sight to see. We'll do it, Maister Dick, and 'tis my wish I bean't too sleepy to tumble up when they tries their tricks."

It was a full day's work, from daybreak to long past sunset, to erect the shed from materials carefully prepared beforehand. Dick felt the necessity of completing the apparatus before another day dawned, lest their proceedings should be spied from a passing boat and reported in the village before they were ready. He obtained permission from his father to remain out, telling him frankly what his purpose was, but without giving details, and toiled on, by the light of a screened lantern, until the whole contrivance wis finished. The booby-trap consisted of a pail nicely balanced on a bar running across the shed, and filled with water deeply coloured with indigo. It was connected by a thread with a loose board in the floor beneath, so that a trespasser stepping across the threshold would snap the thread, cause the pail to turn on its axis, and receive its contents on his head.

"The parson used flour, he told me," said Dick, "but 'tis too good to waste on those rascals."

"Ay, and a dousin' will make 'em cuss more," said Sam. "Oh, 'twill grieve me tarrible if I be asleep!"

Three days passed. Apparently the shed had not been discovered by the villagers. The boys tested their invention and found it successful. They took the boat out each morning, and restored it to its place when the day's fishing was done, fastening the door from the inside, connecting it with the booby-trap, and leaving the shed by a small door, just large enough to crawl through, at the back.

On the third evening Mr. Carlyon came to the Towers to join the Trevanions in a game of whist, as he did frequently during the winter months. It was a still, clear night, with a touch of frost in the air; but the cold did not penetrate to the Squire's room, where a blazing wood fire threw a rosy radiance on the panelled walls, and woke smiling reflections in the glasses and decanters that stood on a table near that at which the party of four were absorbed in their game. The house was quiet; Reuben and Sam had retired to rest, for the Vicar would need no attendance when he mounted his cob to ride home.

The Squire was in the act of shuffling the pack, when suddenly the silence of the house was shattered by a tremendous crash in one of the rooms above. Mrs. Trevanion pressed her hand to her side; the Squire missed his cast, and let the cards fall to the floor; Mr. Carlyon put down the glass which he had just raised to his lips, so hastily that the fluid spilled on the baize. Dick sprang up.

"'Tis the alarm!" he cried. "They are at my shed!"

He dashed out of the room, to meet Sam in shirt and breeches tumbling down the stairs. Dick seized a cutlass hanging on the wall, Sam the parson's riding-whip, and throwing open the door they sallied out into the night.

"It dinged me out of a lovely dream," said Sam. "Dash my buttons, 'twas a noble noise."

They scampered along the cliff to the zigzag path. Meanwhile the Squire hurriedly explained the matter to the astonished Vicar.

"Bless my life, I must go too," cried Mr. Carlyon. "The impudence of the scoundrels! Is this the result of Sir Bevil's intervention? Come along, Squire; bring your pistols. Man of peace as I am, I will give you absolution if you wing one of those fellows!"

The two hastened forth less than a minute after the boys. Both were active men, in spite of their years, and they scrambled down the path with no more stumbles than were excusable in elderly gentlemen a little short in the wind. Before they got to the bottom they saw a boat just pulling off from the shore, and the boys knee-deep in water, trying to give a parting salutation with their weapons to the disturbers of the peace. Sam had the satisfaction of hearing a bellow from the man in the stern of the boat as the whip-thong slashed his face; but Dick's cutlass was not long enough for effective use, and in a few seconds the marauders were out of reach.

The four met on the beach and hastened up towards the shed. To their surprise the door was only half open.

"They must have heard the noise," said Dick. "My window is open. I daresay they waited to see what it meant, and then heard us coming down, for when we got to the foot of the path they were beginning to shove the boat off."

"The neatest contrivance I ever heard of. I congratulate you on your ingenuity," said the Vicar heartily. "But we may as well see that the villains have done no mischief."

As he spoke he pulled the door fully open, and before Dick could check him, set his foot on the threshold. Instantly there was a splash; the worthy man gasped and spluttered, and came out with a spring, shaking his head like a dog emerging from a bath.

"God bless my soul!" cried the Squire, looking with amazement at the dark shower pouring from his friend on to the sand. "What on earth is this?"

"Ho! ho!" laughed Sam, prancing with delight, his veneration for the Church quite eclipsed by his joy at a fellow mortal's misadventure. "I ha' seed it arter all. Ho! ho!"

Dick, overwhelmed with dismay, shook Sam by the arm and bade him be silent. What excuse, what reparation could he make to the venerable gentleman who had suffered so untoward an accident?

"I didn't think--I tried to--I'm dreadfully sorry, sir," he stammered.

"Ha! ha!" came the parson's rolling laugh. "'Pon my life, he's an apt pupil, Squire. The young dog! Ha! ha!"

"Explain this--this--" began the Squire angrily.

"This booby-trap, Squire," cried Mr. Carlyon. "'Tis I am the booby. I taught Dick, in a reckless burst of confidence, how we young rantipoles at Oxford used to deal with each other--and our tutors too, I'm bound to say. I wish I hadn't. But, you young rascal, I told you that we used flour: what is this horrible stuff?"

"Only a solution of indigo, sir; it won't do you any harm," replied poor Dick.

"Won't do me any harm? Only make me black and blue, eh? Ha! ha! I'm glad 'tis no worse. But 'tis a thousand pities those ruffians escaped the shower. Well, well, the rain falls on the just and the unjust, we're told, and----bless me, Squire, it takes me back forty years, when we had rigged up a trap for a freshman, and it toppled on the reverend head of the dean himself. Ha! ha!"

"Ha! ha!" laughed the Squire, his vexation giving way to his sense of humour.

"Ho! ho!" roared Sam. "Drown me if it bean't the----"

"Shut up!" growled Dick. "Why must you laugh at the Vicar in that idiotic way?"

"'Cos he laughs at hisself," said Sam, highly aggrieved. "I wouldn' laugh at him with his nightgown on in church, not I; but when he be just like a simple common man, daze me if I can keep it in."

The two elders were now climbing the path. Dick stayed to retie the thread, though he did not expect that the marauders, after the alarm they had had, would make a second attempt that night. Having closed the door, he accompanied Sam up the cliff, greatly relieved when he heard, far above, the Vicar's hearty laugh, as he related to the Squire sundry other pranks and escapades of his younger days.

CHAPTER THE TWELFTH

Penwarden Disappears

As Dick hoped, the scare given to the enemy by his prompt sally from the Towers proved effectual; no further attempt was made to interfere with the boat. Rumours of the contrivance for giving an alarm spread among the villagers, and Mr. Carlyon, without revealing his own misadventure, took care to explain to Petherick, sexton, beadle, and constable, that the intruders would have suffered material damage if they had had the courage to enter the shed. Petherick duly reported this, as the parson intended, adding on his own account that the young monkeys had invented an instrument of torture for all who dared to molest them. The parson's housekeeper discussed with Petherick a strange stain upon her master's stock, and Petherick himself, despatched one day to the Truro perruquier with a parcel carefully tied, was amazed when the tradesman, opening it in his presence, revealed a wig, not iron grey, but mottled blue in colour. These matters were a topic of conversation in Polkerran for many a day, and there were some who offered explanations, and some who shook their heads and looked profoundly wise, but discreetly held their tongues. The truth was never known outside the Towers, Dick threatening Sam with excommunication if he breathed a word of it.