Moonfleet

by John Meade Falkner

  CHAPTER 2

  THE FLOODS

  Then banks came down with ruin and rout,Then beaten spray flew round about,Then all the mighty floods were out, And all the world was in the sea _--Jean Ingelow_

  On the third of November, a few days after this visit to the Why Not?,the wind, which had been blowing from the south-west, began about four inthe afternoon to rise in sudden strong gusts. The rooks had beenpitch-falling all the morning, so we knew that bad weather was due; andwhen we came out from the schooling that Mr. Glennie gave us in the hallof the old almshouses, there were wisps of thatch, and even stray tiles,flying from the roofs, and the children sang:

  Blow wind, rise storm,Ship ashore before morn.

  It is heathenish rhyme that has come down out of other and worse times;for though I do not say but that a wreck on Moonfleet beach was lookedupon sometimes as little short of a godsend, yet I hope none of us wereso wicked as to _wish_ a vessel to be wrecked that we might share in theplunder. Indeed, I have known the men of Moonfleet risk their own lives ahundred times to save those of shipwrecked mariners, as when the_Darius_, East Indiaman, came ashore; nay, even poor nameless corpseswashed up were sure of Christian burial, or perhaps of one of MasterRatsey's headstones to set forth sex and date, as may be seen in thechurchyard to this day.

  Our village lies near the centre of Moonfleet Bay, a great bight twentymiles across, and a death-trap to up-channel sailors in asouth-westerly gale. For with that wind blowing strong from south, ifyou cannot double the Snout, you must most surely come ashore; and manya good ship failing to round that point has beat up and down the bayall day, but come to beach in the evening. And once on the beach, thesea has little mercy, for the water is deep right in, and the wavescurl over full on the pebbles with a weight no timbers can withstand.Then if poor fellows try to save themselves, there is a deadlyunder-tow or rush back of the water, which sucks them off their legs,and carries them again under the thundering waves. It is that back-suckof the pebbles that you may hear for miles inland, even at Dorchester,on still nights long after the winds that caused it have sunk, andwhich makes people turn in their beds, and thank God they are notfighting with the sea on Moonfleet beach.

  But on this third of November there was no wreck, only such a wind as Ihave never known before, and only once since. All night long the tempestgrew fiercer, and I think no one in Moonfleet went to bed; for there wassuch a breaking of tiles and glass, such a banging of doon and rattlingof shutters, that no sleep was possible, and we were afraid besides lestthe chimneys should fall and crush us. The wind blew fiercest about fivein the morning, and then some ran up the street calling out a newdanger--that the sea was breaking over the beach, and that all the placewas like to be flooded. Some of the women were for flitting forthwith andclimbing the down; but Master Ratsey, who was going round with others tocomfort people, soon showed us that the upper part of the village stoodso high, that if the water was to get thither, there was no knowing if itwould not cover Ridgedown itself. But what with its being a spring-tide,and the sea breaking clean over the great outer beach of pebbles--a thingthat had not happened for fifty years--there was so much water piled upin the lagoon, that it passed its bounds and flooded all the sea meadows,and even the lower end of the street. So when day broke, there was thechurchyard flooded, though 'twas on rising ground, and the church itselfstanding up like a steep little island, and the water over the door-sillof the Why Not?, though Elzevir Block would not budge, saying he did notcare if the sea swept him away. It was but a nine-hours' wonder, for thewind fell very suddenly; the water began to go back, the sun shonebright, and before noon people came out to the doors to see the floodsand talk over the storm. Most said that never had been so fierce a wind,but some of the oldest spoke of one in the second year of Queen Anne, andwould have it as bad or worse. But whether worse or not, this storm was aweighty matter enough for me, and turned the course of my life, as youshall hear.

  I have said that the waters came up so high that the church stood outlike an island; but they went back quickly, and Mr. Glennie was able tohold service on the next Sunday morning. Few enough folks came toMoonfleet Church at any time; but fewer still came that morning, forthe meadows between the village and the churchyard were wet and miryfrom the water. There were streamers of seaweed tangled about the verytombstones, and against the outside of the churchyard wall was piled upa great bank of it, from which came a salt rancid smell like aguillemot's egg that is always in the air after a south-westerly galehas strewn the shore with wrack.

  This church is as large as any other I have seen, and divided into twoparts with a stone screen across the middle. Perhaps Moonfleet was once alarge place, and then likely enough there were people to fill such achurch, but never since I knew it did anyone worship in that part calledthe nave. This western portion was quite empty beyond a few old tombs anda Royal Arms of Queen Anne; the pavement too was damp and mossy; andthere were green patches down the white walls where the rains had got in.So the handful of people that came to church were glad enough to get theother side of the screen in the chancel, where at least the pew floorswere boarded over, and the panelling of oak-work kept off the draughts.

  Now this Sunday morning there were only three or four, I think, besideMr. Glennie and Ratsey and the half-dozen of us boys, who crossed theswampy meadows strewn with drowned shrew-mice and moles. Even my aunt wasnot at church, being prevented by a migraine, but a surprise waited thosewho did go, for there in a pew by himself sat Elzevir Block. The peoplestared at him as they came in, for no one had ever known him go to churchbefore; some saying in the village that he was a Catholic, and others aninfidel. However that may be, there he was this day, wishing perhaps toshow a favour to the parson who had written the verses for David'sheadstone. He took no notice of anyone, nor exchanged greetings withthose that came in, as was the fashion in Moonfleet Church, but kept hiseyes fixed on a prayer-book which he held in his hand, though he couldnot be following the minister, for he never turned the leaf.

  The church was so damp from the floods, that Master Ratsey had put a firein the brazier which stood at the back, but was not commonly lighted tillthe winter had fairly begun. We boys sat as close to the brazier as wecould, for the wet cold struck up from the flags, and besides that, wewere so far from the clergyman, and so well screened by the oak backs,that we could bake an apple or roast a chestnut without much fear ofbeing caught. But that morning there was something else to take off ourthoughts; for before the service was well begun, we became aware of astrange noise under the church. The first time it came was just as Mr.Glennie was finishing 'Dearly Beloved', and we heard it again before thesecond lesson. It was not a loud noise, but rather like that which a boatmakes jostling against another at sea, only there was something deeperand more hollow about it. We boys looked at each other, for we knew whatwas under the church, and that the sound could only come from the MohuneVault. No one at Moonfleet had ever seen the inside of that vault; butRatsey was told by his father, who was clerk before him, that it underlayhalf the chancel, and that there were more than a score of Mohunes lyingthere. It had not been opened for over forty years, since Gerald Mohune,who burst a blood-vessel drinking at Weymouth races, was buried there;but there was a tale that one Sunday afternoon, many years back, therehad come from the vault so horrible and unearthly a cry, that parson andpeople got up and fled from the church, and would not worship there forweeks afterwards.

  We thought of these stories, and huddled up closer to the brazier, beingfrightened at the noise, and uncertain whether we should not turn tailand run from the church. For it was certain that something was moving inthe Mohune vault, to which there was no entrance except by a ringed stonein the chancel floor, that had not been lifted for forty years.

  However, we thought better of it, and did not budge, though I could seewhen standing up and looking over the tops of the seats that othersbeside ourselves were ill at ease; for Granny Tucker gave such startswhen she heard the sounds, that twice her spectacles f
ell off her noseinto her lap, and Master Ratsey seemed to be trying to mask the one noiseby making another himself, whether by shuffling with his feet or bythumping down his prayer-book. But the thing that most surprised me wasthat even Elzevir Block, who cared, men said, for neither God nor Devil,looked unquiet, and gave a quick glance at Ratsey every time the soundcame. So we sat till Mr. Glennie was well on with the sermon. Hisdiscourse interested me though I was only a boy, for he likened life tothe letter 'Y', saying that 'in each man's life must come a point wheretwo roads part like the arms of a "Y", and that everyone must choose forhimself whether he will follow the broad and sloping path on the left orthe steep and narrow path on the right. For,' said he, 'if you will lookin your books, you will see that the letter "Y" is not like the Mohunes',with both arms equal, but has the arm on the left broader and moresloping than the arm on the right; hence ancient philosophers hold thatthis arm on the left represents the easy downward road to destruction,and the arm on the right the narrow upward path of life.' When we heardthat we all fell to searching our prayer-books for a capital 'Y'; andGranny Tucker, who knew not A from B, made much ado in fumbling with herbook, for she would have people think that she could read. Then just atthat moment came a noise from below louder than those before, hollow andgrating like the cry of an old man in pain. With that up jumps GrannyTucker, calling out loud in church to Mr. Glennie--

  'O Master, however can'ee bide there preaching when the Moons be risingfrom their graves?' and out from the church.

  That was too much for the others, and all fled, Mrs. Vining crying,'Lordsakes, we shall all be throttled like Cracky Jones.'

  So in a minute there were none left in the church, save and except Mr.Glennie, with me, Ratsey, and Elzevir Block. I did not run: first, notwishing to show myself coward before the men; second, because I thoughtif Blackbeard came he would fall on the men rather than on a boy; andthird, that if it came to blows, Block was strong enough to give accounteven of a Mohune. Mr. Glennie went on with his sermon, making as thoughhe neither heard any noise nor saw the people leave the church; and whenhe had finished, Elzevir walked out, but I stopped to see what theminister would say to Ratsey about the noise in the vault. The sextonhelped Mr. Glennie off with his gown, and then seeing me standing by andlistening, said--

  'The Lord has sent evil angels among us; 'tis a terrible thing, MasterGlennie, to hear the dead men moving under our feet.'

  'Tut, tut,' answered the minister, 'it is only their own fears that makesuch noises terrible to the vulgar. As for Blackbeard, I am not here tosay whether guilty spirits sometimes cannot rest and are seen wanderingby men; but for these noises, they are certainly Nature's work as is thenoise of waves upon the beach. The floods have filled the vault withwater, and so the coffins getting afloat, move in some eddies that weknow not of, and jostle one another. Then being hollow, they give forththose sounds you hear, and these are your evil angels. 'Tis very true thedead do move beneath our feet, but 'tis because they cannot helpthemselves, being carried hither and thither by the water. Fie, Ratseyman, you should know better than to fright a boy with silly talk ofspirits when the truth is bad enough.'

  The parson's words had the ring of truth in them to me, and I neverdoubted that he was right. So this mystery was explained, and yet it wasa dreadful thing, and made me shiver, to think of the Mohunes all adriftin their coffins, and jostling one another in the dark. I pictured themto myself, the many generations, old men and children, man and maid, allbones now, each afloat in his little box of rotting wood; and Blackbeardhimself in a great coffin bigger than all the rest, coming crashing intothe weaker ones, as a ship in a heavy sea comes crashing down sometimesin the trough, on a small boat that is trying to board her. And thenthere was the outer darkness of the vault itself to think of, and theclose air, and the black putrid water nearly up to the roof on which suchsorry ships were sailing.

  Ratsey looked a little crestfallen at what Mr. Glennie said, but put agood face on it, and answered--

  'Well, master, I am but a plain man, and know nothing about floods andthese eddies and hidden workings of Nature of which you speak; but,saving your presence, I hold it a fond thing to make light of suchwarnings as are given us. 'Tis always said, "When the Moons move, thenMoonfleet mourns"; and I have heard my father tell that the last timethey stirred was in Queen Anne's second year, when the great storm blewmen's homes about their heads. And as for frighting children, 'tis wellthat heady boys should learn to stand in awe, and not pry into what doesnot concern them--or they may come to harm.' He added the last words withwhat I felt sure was a nod of warning to myself, though I did not thenunderstand what he meant. So he walked off in a huff with Elzevir, whowas waiting for him outside, and I went with Mr. Glennie and carried hisgown for him back to his lodging in the village.

  Mr. Glennie was always very friendly, making much of me, and talking tome as though I were his equal; which was due, I think, to there being noone of his own knowledge in the neighbourhood, and so he had as lief talkto an ignorant boy as to an ignorant man. After we had passed thechurchyard turnstile and were crossing the sludgy meadows, I asked himagain what he knew of Blackbeard and his lost treasure.

  'My son,' he answered, 'all that I have been able to gather is, that thisColonel John Mohune (foolishly called Blackbeard) was the first to impairthe family fortunes by his excesses, and even let the almshouses fall toruin, and turned the poor away. Unless report strangely belies him, hewas an evil man, and besides numberless lesser crimes, had on his handsthe blood of a faithful servant, whom he made away with because chancehad brought to the man's ears some guilty secret of the master. Then, atthe end of his life, being filled with fear and remorse (as must alwayshappen with evil livers at the last), he sent for Rector Kindersley ofDorchester to confess him, though a Protestant, and wished to make amendsby leaving that treasure so ill-gotten from King Charles (which was allthat he had to leave) for the repair and support of the almshouses. Hemade a last will, which I have seen, to this effect, but withoutdescribing the treasure further than to call it a diamond, nor sayingwhere it was to be found. Doubtless he meant to get it himself, sell it,and afterwards apply the profit to his good purpose, but before he coulddo so death called him suddenly to his account. So men say that he cannotrest in his grave, not having made even so tardy a reparation, and neverwill rest unless the treasure is found and spent upon the poor.'

  I thought much over what Mr. Glennie had said and fell to wondering whereBlackbeard could have hid his diamond, and whether I might not find itsome day and make myself a rich man. Now, as I considered that noise wehad heard under the church, and Parson Glennie's explanation of it, I wasmore and more perplexed; for the noise had, as I have said, somethingdeep and hollow-booming in it, and how was that to be made by decayedcoffins. I had more than once seen Ratsey, in digging a grave, turn uppieces of coffins, and sometimes a tarnished name-plate would show thatthey had not been so very long underground, and yet the wood was quitedecayed and rotten. And granting that such were in the earth, and somight more easily perish, yet when the top was taken off old Guy's brickgrave to put his widow beside him, Master Ratsey gave me a peep in, andold Guy's coffin had cracks and warps in it, and looked as if a soundblow would send it to pieces. Yet here were the Mohune coffins that hadbeen put away for generations, and must be rotten as tinder, tappingagainst each other with a sound like a drum, as if they were still soundand air-tight. Still, Mr. Glennie must be right; for if it was not thecoffins, what should it be that made the noise?

  So on the next day after we heard the sounds in church, being theMonday, as soon as morning school was over, off I ran down street andacross meadows to the churchyard, meaning to listen outside the churchif the Mohunes were still moving. I say outside the church, for I knewRatsey would not lend me the key to go in after what he had said aboutboys prying into things that did not concern them; and besides that, Ido not know that I should care to have ventured inside alone, even if Ihad the key.

  When I reached the chur
ch, not a little out of breath, I listened firston the side nearest the village, that is the north side; putting my earagainst the wall, and afterwards lying down on the ground, though thegrass was long and wet, so that I might the better catch any sound thatcame. But I could hear nothing, and so concluded that the Mohunes hadcome to rest again, yet thought I would walk round the church and listentoo on the south or sea side, for that their worships might have driftedover to that side, and be there rubbing shoulders with one another. So Iwent round, and was glad to get out of the cold shade into the sun on thesouth. But here was a surprise; for when I came round a great buttresswhich juts out from the wall, what should I see but two men, and thesetwo were Ratsey and Elzevir Block. I came upon them unawares, and, lo andbehold, there was Master Ratsey lying also on the ground with his ear tothe wall, while Elzevir sat back against the inside of the buttress witha spy-glass in his hand, smoking and looking out to sea.

  Now, I had as much right to be in the churchyard as Ratsey or Elzevir,and yet I felt a sudden shame as if I had been caught in some bad act,and knew the blood was running to my cheeks. At first I had it in my mindto turn tail and make off, but concluded to stand my ground since theyhad seen me, and so bade them 'Good morning'. Master Ratsey jumped to hisfeet as nimbly as a cat; and if he had not been a man, I should havethought he was blushing too, for his face was very red, though that cameperhaps from lying on the ground. I could see he was a little put about,and out of countenance, though he tried to say 'Good morning, John', inan easy tone, as if it was a common thing for him to be lying in thechurchyard, with his ear to the wall, on a winter's morning. 'Goodmorning, John,' he said; 'and what might you be doing in the churchyardthis fine day?'

  I answered that I was come to listen if the Mohunes were still moving.

  'Well, that I can't tell you,' returned Ratsey, 'not wishing to wastethought on such idle matters, and having to examine this wall whetherthe floods have not so damaged it as to need under-pinning; so if youhave time to gad about of a morning, get you back to my workshop andfetch me a plasterer's hammer which I have left behind, so that I cantry this mortar.'

  I knew that he was making excuses about underpinning, for the wall wassound as a rock, but was glad enough to take him at his word and beat aretreat from where I was not wanted. Indeed, I soon saw how he wasmocking me, for the men did not even wait for me to come back with thehammer, but I met them returning in the first meadow. Master Ratsey madeanother excuse that he did not need the hammer now, as he had found outthat all that was wanted was a little pointing with new mortar. 'But ifyou have such time to waste, John,' he added, 'you can come tomorrow andhelp me to get new thwarts in the _Petrel_, which she badly wants.'

  So we three came back to the village together; but looking up at Elzevironce while Master Ratsey was making these pretences, I saw his eyestwinkle under their heavy brows, as if he was amused at the other'sembarrassment.

  The next Sunday, when we went to church, all was quiet as usual,there was no Elzevir, and no more noises, and I never heard theMohunes move again.