Jack Hardy: A Story of English Smugglers in the Days of Napoleon

by Herbert Strang

  *CHAPTER II*

  *MONSIEUR DE FRONSAC*

  Jack was shown into a little snuggery, where he found a red-faced,blue-eyed gentleman sitting deep in a comfortable arm-chair, his legsperched on a smaller chair. His black hair was tied in a short queue;he had curly side whiskers: and he wore the full uniform of theDorsetshire yeomanry--a tight red coat with a high stock, white buckskinbreeches, and big Hessian boots that came to the knee.

  "A young gentleman to see you, sir," said the servant.

  "How d'ye do, Cousin Humfrey?" said Jack, advancing with a smile andoutstretched hand.

  "Who in the world are you?" said Mr. Bastable, clutching the arms of hischair, his eyelids squeezed together oddly.

  "Oh! I'm Jack Hardy. Mother said I was to be sure and call. My trapsare coming after."

  "They are, are they? You're a pretty cool young spark, aren't you? Imust take it, I suppose, that you're my Cousin Millicent's boy, eh?"

  "Of course, Cousin Humfrey. She said you'd be glad to put me up for aday or two, if I reminded you what friends you and she were, I don'tknow how many years ago."

  "She did, eh? Well, you'd better give an account of yourself. How oldare you, and what are you doing in these parts? I don't suppose youcame all the way from London to remind me of your mother."

  "I'm sixteen, sir, and just appointed to the _Fury_--you know, therevenue cutter now repairing at Wynport. I've got a few days' leave, soI've just walked over."

  "So I should suppose. Your boots look as if you'd walked through half adozen horseponds on the way."

  "Only one, cousin," replied Jack, laughing. "That was in helping afriend of yours, who tumbled over through walking backwards looking at achimney on fire: Mr. Gudgeon, the farmer."

  "A friend of mine, eh? Well, not exactly," said Mr. Bastable dryly."So his chimney was afire."

  "Yes, though I must say he took it pretty coolly; didn't seem toremember it when he got back into the house."

  "Oh! You went into the house, then?"

  "Yes, he gave me some cider, and drank some brandy himself for theflutters. He's not quite the shape for the flutters, cousin, is he?Looks pretty solid."

  "And he made himself agreeable, eh? You told him who you were, Isuppose?"

  "Oh, yes! And he as good as said he was glad the _Fury_ was gettingready for sea. Luscombe's getting a bad name for smuggling, it appears,and 'tis time some of us came along. Don't you think so, cousin?"

  "Quite time, quite time!" replied Mr. Bastable. Jack fancied he caught atwinkle in his half-closed eyes. "Father and mother quite well, eh?And how long have you been a king's officer?"

  "A couple of years, cousin. Of course I had to serve two years as avolunteer first; then two years ago I was put on the books of the_Ariadne_, second-rate frigate, Captain Bagot. Why on earth theytransferred me to the _Fury_ I can't tell--just as the _Ariadne_ wasgoing out to join Admiral Nelson's fleet, too. I call it disgusting."

  "No doubt they thought you'd be more useful to the revenue. Well, yourtraps are coming after you, you said? Get off those boots and I'llintroduce you to your cousins. I suppose they're your cousins, if I'mone. Ah! here's the first!"--as the door burst open, and a girl ran in.She wore a white muslin dress with a pink sash, and a chip hat wasswinging on her arm. Seeing a stranger she stopped, and her cheeksflushed.

  "Come, Kate," said her father, "this is your cousin, Mr. MidshipmanHardy, come to pay us a visit."

  Kate Bastable made the formal little courtesy of those days, to whichJack returned his best bow.

  "I came to tell you dinner is nearly ready, father," said the girl.

  "Goodness alive, and I haven't got out of my regimentals yet! Run andsend your mother here, Kate; she must say which room your cousin is tohave. We dine earlier than you fine London folks, my lad. You're agood trencherman, I'll be bound."

  "I'm pretty sharp set after my walk, cousin, and we fellows can usuallydo our duty with knife and fork."

  "As well as in other matters, eh?--catching smugglers, for instance.Well, come along; we'll find my wife and see what she can do for you inthe way of slippers."

  Jack was perfectly satisfied with his dinner, and with his new-foundrelatives. Mrs. Bastable and he became good friends at first sight.She was a pleasant, fresh-colored woman of forty, quiet in manner andspeech, but with a shrewdly humorous eye. Kate was fifteen. She saidlittle, but took stock of her new cousin as he chattered at thedinner-table. The last member of the family was Arthur, a boy oftwelve, who, Jack found afterward, was not nearly so shy as he looked.An only son, he had not been sent to school, but was tutored at home.The tutor formed the sixth at table, a slight man of about thirty, witha very swarthy skin and intensely black eyes, good features, and aglittering smile. He was introduced to Jack as Monsieur de Fronsac, aFrenchman of a noble house. He had emigrated a few years before, andsettled in England as a teacher of languages and mathematics. Monsieurde Fronsac bowed and smiled when the introduction was made, and saidthat he was charmed and delighted to meet an officer of the king's soexcellent navy.

  Jack found that he was expected to do most of the talking. His cousinsplied him with questions about the latest news in London. What washappening in India? Had Spain declared war? What did the people inLondon think of the chances of a French invasion? Jack was equal to thedemands made upon him.

  "Oh, as to India," he said, "a day or two before I left we got advicethat that Mahratta fellow, Holkar, had invaded our territories andGeneral Wellesley was after him. He'll soon settle his hash. AndAdmiral Keith is going to have a shot at those flat-bottomed boats thatBoney has got at Boulogne. They'll never cross the Channel, not they.Praams they call 'em: miserable tools; a storm would knock 'em topieces; they can't hug the wind; and the eight-pounder they've gotmounted aft is a fixture, so that if we laid a small boat alongside, thegun would be useless, and they'd only have musketry to resist with. Andthe poor wretches on board get so seasick if there's the least swellthat they lie about groaning in the hold, too weak to lift a musket.One of 'em was captured last year by a gun-brig of ours; she'd got alittle leeward of Boulogne and couldn't get back, and our brig had herby the heels as she was steering large for Calais. Our fellows don'tbelieve old Boney intends to send 'em across at all, but only wants tofrighten us. By George! I wish he would, though. We'd make ducks anddrakes of his praams, there's not a doubt about that."

  "But they might row over in a calm," suggested Mr. Bastable; "then ourcruisers would be helpless."

  "Why, if they did, cousin, there'd be a chance for you. I'd like to seethe yeomanry cavalry dashing at 'em as they landed, sabers out, cut andthrust, ding-dong, over you go. Oh, it won't be so easy as Master Boneyimagines. Don't you think he's off his chump, cousin?--Beg pardon,Cousin Sylvia, I mean cracked; that is, mad--why, 'tis said he's had amedal struck to commemorate his invasion; his own precious head on oneside and a figure of Hercules strangling the sea monster on the other.The sea monster's us, you know, Monsieur. And he's got the words'Struck at London, 1804,' on the thing--isn't that cool cheek? Betterhave waited till he got to London--don't you think so, cousin?"

  Thus he chattered on, amusing his relatives with his frank boyishconfidence, and especially pleasing Monsieur de Fronsac, as it appeared,for the French tutor was constantly showing his teeth as he smiled.

  "It is good to hear," he said once. "I like it. I do not lov disNapoleon; truly he is a monstair."

  "Makes a breakfast of babies, don't he?" said Jack.

  "That's rubbish, of course," said Mr. Bastable. "But he's a monster allthe same, as Monsieur says; and I warrant if he does manage to escapeyou blue-coated gentlemen of the navy he'll find us redcoats ready tomeet him."

  Monsieur de Fronsac retired immediately after dinner.

  "Gone to scribble poetry," said Mr. Bastable with a smile, when the doorwas shut. "He's a decent fellow, and knows a heap of mathematics. Ifancy he must have be
en crossed in love, for he's always writing poetryabout the moon or the trees or the sea--so Arthur says, for he nevershows his stuff to me. Now, we're early birds here, Jack. We'll play arubber with the ladies, if you please, and then to bed."

  At breakfast next morning Mr. Bastable was in particularly good humor.He had been out early, so he said; there was nothing like a ride beforebreakfast for freshening one up and improving one's appetite.

  "By the way, Jack," he added, "when I was out I heard that the smugglersmade a capital run last night--the first of the season."

  "The villains!" cried Jack; "under my very nose!"

  "Taking advantage of the _Fury's_ being laid up for repairs, you see.But no doubt you'll put a stop to it when once you get to work--eh,Jack?"

  Jack fancied there was something quizzical about his cousin's smile ashe said this, and wondered whether the squire was "smoking" him. But heanswered cheerfully:

  "We'll see, cousin. I don't know what sort of man Lieutenant Blake is:only saw him for the first time yesterday; but if he's anything of agoer we'll give the smugglers a warm time, I promise them."

  "And how will you set about it, cousin?"

  "Don't know, for my life!" said Jack with a laugh. "But there are fortyways of catching flies, and about the same number of tying knots; andwe'll find out a way, you may be sure. By the by, cousin, can you tellme how to get to the cottage of an old tar named Joe Gumley? I had achat with him yesterday as I came here, and I'd like to look him up."

  "Yes, I can tell you. He's a tenant of mine. But he won't see you."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Just what I say. He won't see you. He lives by himself and neveradmits a visitor. He's most unpopular with the village folk, and has totramp to Wynport to sell his garden stuff."

  "Why don't they like him?"

  "Ah, well! The truth is he's an oddity, a very queer fellow."

  This explanation by no means satisfied Jack, and he made up his mind tovisit Gumley as he had intended. The sailor's cottage stood somedistance farther along the cliff. After breakfast he set off alonetoward it. Within ten minutes he came to a stout wooden fence tippedwith nails, and so high that he could only just see over it. Then theview of the cottage itself was hidden by a mass of bushes and trees, thefoliage of which, though tinged with autumn brown, was still thick.There was a gate in the fence, but no latch and no bell.

  "An 'I'm-the-king-of-the-Castle' look about this," thought Jack. Helifted his cane and dealt the gate several smart raps. Immediately heheard a dog rushing down the garden, barking angrily. Standing ontiptoe he peered over, and saw an immense bulldog, thick-set,broad-chested, with an enormous and most ugly head, showing his teethviciously. The moment the dog caught sight of Jack he redoubled hisbarking and dashed forward against the fence, as if furious to get athim.

  "Good dog, good dog!" said Jack soothingly. "What's the matter with you,you son of a ten-pounder? I say, Gumley--ahoy! ahoy! Gumley!"

  He raised his voice to a singsong, and sent the call rolling toward thecottage, rather enjoying the din made by himself and the dog, with ahundred echoes from every dell and hollow in the cliff. In a minute ortwo he saw the sailor stumping round the bushes, his head bare, hisshirt open at the neck, a spade in one hand, and in the other a littlesquare board.

  "Oh, 'tis you, Mr. Hardy, sir. I was digging turnips at the back.Lor', sir, all Luscombe will know you've bin here, with this terriblerow and all."

  "I don't care if they do, and it was your dog that made the row."

  "A good dog, sir. Living alone by myself, you see, I need a watch-dog.Come in, sir, come in."

  He had removed a padlock, drawn two bolts and loosed two bars on theinner side, and thrown the gate open. Jack stepped into the garden,keeping an eye on the bulldog, which had ceased to bark as soon asGumley appeared, but walked slowly round and round the visitor, sniffingat his legs as if choosing the best place for a bite.

  "There's no cause for alarm, sir--leastways not while I'm on deck. I'dbest introduce you proper like, then you'll be safe any time, fairweather or foul. This here's Comely; and this is Mr. Hardy of the_Fury_: twiggy-voo, as the mounseers say? Now pat him, sir."

  Jack felt a little uneasy, but knowing that it is best to put a boldface on it, whether with dogs or men, he stooped and patted the massivehead. With an expression that seemed to him more sinister than ever, thedog stuck out a red tongue and licked his hand.

  "Now all's snug and shipshape, sir. Comely's your friend for life."

  "Queer name that."

  "True, sir. It was like this. I had a notion of calling him Handsome,'cos handsome is as handsome does, and he does most uncommon handsome.But thinking it over between watches, as you may say, it seemed likepoking fun at the poor beast that couldn't hit back, and I cast aboutfor a name that would mean the same but not quite so strong. I tackedabout for a time without catching a fair breeze, sir. Then all at onceI remembered a word in my Bible: 'black but comely.' Comely's a goodname, thinks I, and his muzzle's black, and my name's Gumley, so Comelyit shall be: and Comely it is, sir. We're a pair, I can tell you,Comely and Gumley."

  "A capital match," said Jack laughing. "But I say, why do you barricadeyourself in like that?" Gumley had replaced padlock, bolts and bars."Any one would think you were making ready to stand a siege."

  "Well, sir, I won't say 'tis to be ready for Boney's landing, and Iwon't say 'tisn't."

  He was now stumping up the path toward the cottage, and said no more.Jack saw that he did not mean to enlighten him, and changed the subject.

  "I say, Gumley, why didn't you help Mr. Gudgeon out yesterday? You wenton and left me to do it."

  "Ay, ay, sir. The truth is, Mr. Gudgeon and me bean't, so to say, onspeaking terms."

  Jack felt that there was something puzzling about all this. Gumley wasnot popular with the villagers, Mr. Bastable had said; the old sailorhad confessed to a feud or at least a coolness between himself and hisneighbor on the opposite cliff. There was an honest look about hisweather-beaten face; he did not seem to Jack morose or ill-tempered.What was at the bottom of this strange attitude of antagonism, shown bythe man's somewhat elaborate defenses? Well, after all, it did notmatter to Jack; his leave would be up in a few days, and then his dutywould take him to sea.

  He sat for some time in Gumley's trim little parlor, where everythingbespoke the handy Jack Tar, chatting about sea life in general and the_Ariadne_ in particular. Then the talk came round to Jack's new vessel,the _Fury_, and brought up the question of smuggling.

  "Mr. Gudgeon said that a good deal goes on about here," said Jack, "andby George! my cousin, Mr. Bastable, told me that the villains ran acargo ashore only last night. I suppose he met the riding-officer as hewent for his morning canter. Did you hear anything of it?"

  "Not a word, sir. I keep myself to myself."

  "Yes, Mr. Gudgeon said much the same thing, I remember. But I supposeyou hear talk in the village sometimes?"

  "Never bin into the village since I gave up fishing, sir. I get all myvictuals from Wynport, and often don't set eyes on the village folk fromweek-end to week-end, except at Church at Wickham Ferrers on Sunday."

  "Why you're quite a hermit--almost as bad as Congleton."

  "True, sir, but I've never bin crossed in love, 'cos I never seed a maidI fancied afore I lost my leg, and there's ne'er a maid would take afancy to a poor chap with a stump like this. And I'm afeard of goinglike Congleton, sir."

  "Yes, but, Gumley, never mind about that. Tell me straight out, man; arethe people in Luscombe below there smugglers or not--the whole crew of'em, I mean?"

  "Well, since you put it plain, sir, I wouldn't be surprised if some of'em think a sight more of French brandy than of Jamaica rum."

  "That's no answer, you old rascal. Well, I'm going down to the villageto have a look round. I saw some neat little smacks at the jettyyesterday, and one of 'em put out pretty smartly, too: was uncommonlywell handled."

 
"Well, sir, you be a fine, mettlesome young gentleman; but if so be as Imight advise you, I'd say keep your weather-eye open. If so be they area smuggling lot below--well, they won't be exactly main pleased to see aking's officer."

  "Bless you, they won't know me. I'm not in uniform, you see. Nobodyknows who I am but my cousins and you and Mr. Gudgeon."

  "True, sir; and me and Mr. Gudgeon keeps ourselves to ourselves, to besure."