CHAPTER THE TWENTY-THIRD
The Price of Treachery
One stride of our magic boots takes us from Polkerran to the creek, fivemiles away, where another little drama was being enacted.
Doubledick's information to Mr. Polwhele was that the _Isaac and Jacob_might be expected to arrive at the creek from Roscoff about five o'clockin the morning. Some little time before that hour, therefore, theriding-officer took up his position in a hollow a hundred yards beyondthe stream. In order that no suspicion might be engendered in thevillage, he had not brought his usual assistants, but was accompanied bya posse of excisemen from Newquay, and a half-troop of dragoons fromPlymouth. At the same time Mr. Mildmay's cutter anchored in a shelteredcove northwards, having sailed in precisely the opposite direction onthe previous night, in order to deceive the smugglers.
Mr. Polwhele had not long posted himself when some thirty strappingfellows, fishers and farm-hands for the most part, marched down thesloping ground south of the creek, and congregated at a spot where thebank was a foot or two above the water, a convenient place for thedebarkation of the lugger's cargo. The murmur of their voices could beheard by the hidden preventive men across the stream, and Mr. Polwhelechuckled at the thought of the fine haul he was about to make. Theexcisemen with him were old hands, and knew how to keep silence, and thedragoons, although they hated this revenue work, were too welldisciplined to hazard the failure of the ambuscade. Their horses hadbeen left tethered half a mile away.
The minutes passed; five o'clock came, and both parties were on thealert for any sound from seaward. The wind blew from the north-east, sothat it was not at all surprising that the lugger should be late. Butwhen six o'clock came they began to be restless. It was tiring andcomfortless, waiting in the misty gloom of a raw December morning. Thesky was pitch dark. Neither party could see the other. The murmurs ofthe tub-carriers became louder, and the dragoons muttered and grumbledunder their breath.
The night was yielding, the outlines of the country were becomingdistinguishable, and yet the lugger did not come. Mr. Polwhele began towonder whether he had been fooled, and inwardly promised Doubledick abad quarter of an hour if this long vigil in cold and darkness provedvain. Jimmy Nancarrow, in charge of the tub-carriers, had misgivings ofa chase and capture on the sea. Now that dawn was breaking, he went tothe top of the cliff and looked out into the mist, but never a sign ofthe lugger did he see. As he descended to rejoin his men, somethingcaught his eye among the bare trees in a hollow on the opposite bank.He crouched behind a gorse bush, and watched for some minutes; then,instead of continuing on his direct course downward, he crept away at anangle, taking advantage of every depression and furze-patch thatafforded cover, and so came to his company again. He told them what hehad seen. Consternation seized them; they became suddenly silent, thenwhispered anxiously among themselves.
There could be little doubt that they had been spied by the preventives.What was to be done? On the one hand they could not depart, leavingTonkin unwarned, to fall into the hands of the revenue officers. On theother hand, they were in no mood or condition to relish a brush withdragoons, and it was certainly a dragoon's forage-cap that Nancarrow haddescried. The best course seemed to be to wait; perhaps the revenueofficers would grow weary first.
Another hour passed. Then the tub-carriers saw the nose of the revenuecutter appear round the corner of the cliff. The game was up. No runcould be made: the lugger would not put in while the cutter was insight; and Nancarrow and his men in sullen rage left their posts and setoff to trudge homeward.
In a moment Mr. Polwhele was hailed by the lieutenant from the cutter.
"Ahoy there, Mr. Polwhele!" he shouted.
The riding-officer left his place of concealment, and moved to the edgeof the cliff, within speaking distance of Mr. Mildmay.
"Tricked again!" he said, angrily. "My word! Doubledick shall sufferfor this."
At that moment an unusual sound made them both start. It was like thedistant thud of some object falling on the ground.
"A gun! Bless my life, Polwhele, what's this?" cried the lieutenant.
"Goodness knows! A ship in distress, maybe. 'Tis no use waiting hereany longer, so I'll ride back and see."
"I'll come round in the cutter as quickly as I can. She must have runon the rocks in the mist. The wind wouldn't cast her ashore--I'll comeround in the cutter."
Mr. Polwhele hastened back to his men. They, too, had heard the shot.
"Come, my men, that's a big gun," said the riding-officer. "Smugglersbe hanged! Maybe there's rescue work to do. Soldiers, get your horses;we'll dash to the village and do our duty. You others, march after us;there may be work for you, yet."
The men were thankful for the opportunity of movement, and the prospectof breakfast. The dragoons raced to their steeds, mounted, and weresoon galloping with Mr. Polwhele towards the village. In a few minutesthey overtook the disconsolate tub-carriers.
"Aha, you black-faced rascals!" cried Mr. Polwhele as he galloped by,adding jocularly: "Stir your stumps and come and fight Boney."
"Not if I knows it," muttered Nancarrow, and forthwith struck inland,followed by the farm-hands. The fishers, being of sterner stuff, andtaking Mr. Polwhele seriously, hastened their step, thinking of theirwives and children in the village, perhaps at the mercy of the CorsicanOgre.
Mr. Polwhele and the dragoons had got half-way to Polkerran when theywere met by the Vicar's messenger to Sir Bevil, and reined up.
"Pa'son sent me to fetch Sir Bevil and yeomanry, sir," said the man."The French hev landed."
"Good heavens! Is it Boney himself?" cried the riding-officer.
"No, it be Maister Delarousse from Rusco: he've come and catched MaisterJohn, and hev shet hisself in the inn."
"Delarousse, begad! Well, my men, there's a thousand pounds offered forthe capture of that rascally Frenchman. Ride on, then; we'll have thevillain!"
They galloped on, sparks flying from beneath the horses' hoofs. Whenthey came to the crest of the high ground overlooking the Towers, theysaw smoke and flame rising from the Dower House, and spurred the faster.In another minute they spied three figures making their way towards theTowers. The middle one of the three was a plump, red-faced woman in aprint dress, her bonnet askew, her ribbons flying. On the left she wassupported by a sturdy, thick-set lad, on the right by a slim and comelymaid. Each clasped the woman about the waist, their arms crossing, andthus assisted her slowly over the ground. The dragoons kissed theirhands gallantly to the maid as they flashed by.
"All safe at the Towers, Sam?" shouted Mr. Polwhele.
But Sam at that moment was too self-conscious and abashed to reply.
Meanwhile the whole population of Polkerran was gathered on the shore ofthe harbour, watching the privateer fade away into the distance, anddiscussing the extraordinary events of the past hour. Doubledick andTonkin were the centre of an excited throng, to whom they had to relateover again the tale of John Trevanion's iniquities. The Squire and Mr.Carlyon had withdrawn to the inn-parlour, where they sat conversing overtheir pipes and glasses of rum shrub. Some of the children had climbedthe hill to witness the Dower House blazing. Nobody thought of makingan attempt to save the place, which indeed would have been impossible.
"Well," said Petherick, in the midst of the crowd, "'tis the Lord'sdoin', and marvellous in our eyes. But now I axe 'ee, Zacky, where beyer boy Jake?"
"What d'ye mean, constable?" asked the fisher.
"Ah! the neighbours hev been too stirred up in their minds to tell 'ee.No one hain't seed Jake since Wednesday night, and 'tis the question weall do axe, whether he be in the land o' the livin' or not."
"Dear name! Do 'ee tell me?" cried Tonkin. "Bean't he with thecarriers?"
"Seemingly not," said one of the women. "I seed yer missis cryin' hereyes out yesterday, neighbour Zacky."
"Maybe he's took away for a sojer or sailor," suggested Doubledi
ck. "Hewented up-along to pluck mistletoe, so 'tis said, and maybe was pouncedon by some rovin' sergeant on dark lonesome moor."
At this moment a cheer was heard from the direction of the hill, andthen the ringing clatter of horses' hoofs. A boy ran up.
"Riding-officer and sojers be comin' down hill," he cried.
Tonkin darted a glance around. The horsemen were approaching at awalking pace down the steepest part of the descent. It suddenly flashedupon him that his lugger had a cargo of contraband on board, which itbehoved him to secure before the riding-officer could lay hands on it.For the moment his anxiety for Jake was eclipsed.
"Lunnan Cove an hour after sundown," he whispered to Doubledick, thenslipped away, and ran at headlong speed along the jetty. Four of thefishermen at the same moment set off with him, but instead of going onthe jetty, they hastened at the double along the beach, following itscurve towards the southern end of the reef.
All this time the lugger had lain within the reef. Pennycomequick, proudof his achievement, was waiting until, the excitement on shore havingsubsided, he could run her in and draw all eyes to himself.
On reaching the end of the jetty, Tonkin, one of the very few fishermenwho could swim, dived into the water and swam towards his vessel.Pennycomequick flung him a rope. He heaved himself on board, securedone of the smaller boats which the Frenchmen had set adrift, and made itfast by the painter to the stern of the lugger. Then he hauled up theanchor, and hoisted sail, apparently with the intention of running in tothe jetty. All his movements were deliberate.
At this moment Mr. Polwhele reached the inn. A hundred voices shoutedthat the Frenchman had got away; then catching sight of the lugger, witha sudden inspiration he galloped across to the jetty, calling on thedragoons to follow him.
"Hi, Tonkin!" he shouted, "I want to have a look at your cargo, my man."
But Tonkin, as if he had not heard the riding-officer's voice, suddenlyput up the helm and stood away towards the reef. It was ebb tide: therugged line of rocks was exposed; and as the lugger came within a fewfeet of it, a number of men could be seen jumping from rock to rock,sometimes wading in the pools between them, in the direction of thevessel. They were too far away for their features or their gait to bedistinguished, but any one counting them would have found that they werenot four, but five. Tonkin sprang into the boat, rowed to the reef andtook the men off, then returned to the lugger. All the men clambered onboard, the boat was made fast, and the vessel sailed across the bay, butin a few minutes suddenly brought up again. Once more Tonkin enteredthe small boat, this time accompanied by another man. He landed him onthe reef, rowed back to the lugger, and while this threaded the fairwaybetween the fallen rock and the cliff, the man returned to the shore anddisappeared.
Mr. Polwhele bit his lips with chagrin, observing a snigger on the facesof the crowd. Then he rode back to the inn, dismounted, and entered, tolearn the details of the recent events from the Squire, and to give inhis turn particulars of his futile errand at the creek.
A few minutes later Sir Bevil Portharvan rode down at the head of atroop of yeomanry. He, too, entered the inn, and Doubledick enjoyed abrief moment of importance when, at Mr. Carlyon's request, he explainedthe relations between Delarousse and John Trevanion. Sir Bevil's ruddycheeks turned pale with rage and mortification.
"Thank God!" he murmured.
"'Tis indeed a mercy," said the Vicar. "I sympathise with you with allmy heart, Sir Bevil."
"The scoundrel!" cried the baronet. "Trevanion, I beg your pardon. Ihave listened to that villain, and had hard thoughts of you. Goodheavens! he was to have married my daughter."
"Poor girl!" said the Squire. "I knew my cousin, Sir Bevil. I shouldhave warned you, only----"
"Only I was a fool, Trevanion. Your warning would have fallen on deafears; my mind was poisoned against you. Forgive me."
The two men shook hands, and soon afterwards left the inn with Mr.Carlyon, the riding-officer remaining behind.
"Doubledick," he said, when alone with the inn-keeper, "you had betterget away. I've got Jake Tonkin locked up in my house--caught him spyingon you the other night. I can't keep him much longer, and as soon as heis free your life won't be worth a snap, if I know his father."
The innkeeper shivered.
"For mercy sake, sir, hold him until to-morrer mornin'! I'll go awaythis very night. Hold him, sir, and I'll tell 'ee wheer Zacky do meanto run the cargo."
"A traitor to the last!" cried Mr. Polwhele. "'Tis my duty to the Kingto listen to you. Well?"
"'Tis at Lunnan Cove, sir, an hour after sun-down."
"Ha! That fellow who ran along the reef is making the arrangements, nodoubt. Well, I'll hold the boy till daylight to-morrow, but not aninstant longer. 'Tis illegal, and they may _habeas corpus_ me. So takemy warning. What about your wife?"
"She must bide here a little until I hev found a home for her. Zackywon't hurt a woman. 'Tis a terrible thing to leave the place I've dweltin for thirty year."
"You've only yourself to blame. I wish you no harm, but take my advice:live straight for the rest of your days. I shan't see you again."
He left the inn, and rode up the hill to look for the arrival of thecutter. The Dower House was still blazing, watched by an immense crowdof villagers, dragoons, yeomanry, and folk from the neighbouring farms,who had flocked in when they saw the glare. There was at present nosign of the cutter, and Mr. Polwhele, tired out by his night's vigil,rode back to his own house, to hoist on his flagstaff a signal to Mr.Mildmay, and then to have a meal and rest.
Unlocking the door of the room in which Jake Tonkin had been confined,he was amazed and alarmed to see that it was no longer occupied. One ofthe iron bars across the window had been wrenched away after patientwork in loosening the sockets, and the prisoner had dropped sixteen feetto the ground. Mr. Polwhele called up his housekeeper, whom he hadforbidden to disclose Jake's whereabouts on pain of dismissal.
"You knew nothing of this, Mary?" he asked.
"No, indeed, sir. I neither heard un nor seed un."
"Well, say nothing about it. I want you to take a note for me at onceto Doubledick at the inn. Put on your bonnet."
By the time the woman was ready, Mr. Polwhele had scribbled a briefnote. "J. has escaped: don't wait."
"Be sure and give it to Doubledick himself," he said.
"Iss, I woll, sir," said the woman.
An hour afterwards Mr. Mildmay came up to the house.
"This is the worst slap in the face we have ever had, Polwhele," hesaid. "Why on earth didn't you collar Tonkin?"
"Why didn't you?" retorted the riding-officer angrily. "The cutter isfor chasing luggers, not my horse."
"Don't fly out at me. We are both in the same hole. The only pleasantfeature in the whole miserable business is that Trevanion will neverfreight another cargo."
"What do you suppose Delarousse will do with him?"
"Skin him, I should think. What a pair of numskulls we have been aboutthat plausible scoundrel!"
"A good riddance to the Squire, too," said the riding-officer. "But theproperty is still his, I suppose."
"Without doubt. The Dower House will be a heap of ashes, but the landand the mine are still John Trevanion's, for all they were bought withmoney villainously come by. However, the miners haven't brought upenough metal to buy their candles, and as there is no one to pay theirwages, they'll close down again, certainly. By the way, you still haveyoung Jake, I suppose?"
"No, confound it all! He escaped this morning. I fancy he must havebeen among those fellows who got along the reef to the lugger."
"Whew! Doubledick had better make himself scarce, then."
"Yes; I have sent Mary down with a note for him. I had promised him tokeep Jake till to-morrow morning, in return for a piece of information."
"What! a run after all?"
"Yes, Tonkin intends to run at Lunnan Cove to-night. We'll not let himslip this time."
&nbs
p; "By George, no! I shall enjoy my Christmas better if we've dished thatbold fellow. I'll go back to the cutter and turn in for a spell.You'll arrange with the dragoons?"
"I will. They're not in the sweetest of tempers, I assure you, and nowonder. But I told them to go and get a sleep at the inn, and made 'emswear to keep sober. Mrs. Doubledick won't give them too much to drink,however; I threatened her with pains and penalties if she did."
"Have a thimbleful before you go, Mildmay. We'll drink to success atLunnan Cove."
Mr. Polwhele's housekeeper set out with the firm intention of carryingthe note straight to Doubledick. But the sight of the blazing mansionwas too much for her resolution; so magnificent a spectacle had neverbeen seen at Polkerran before. When she reached the bridge, instead ofturning to the left towards the inn, she went straight along the road,intending to watch the fire at close quarters for a little while, andcall on Doubledick on the way back. She had put the note into herpocket.
On arriving near the Dower House, she met several acquaintances amongthe crowd, and walked with them round to the north side of the blaze, toavoid the smoke and sparks blown by the north-east wind. The wind hadbeen increasing in force since the early morning, and blew the women'sskirts about as they stood with their backs to it.
"Mind yer bonnet, my dear," said one of them to the housekeeper. "Yewouldn't like to see it blowed into the bonfire, that I'm sure of."
"Bonnet-strings be poor useless things in a wind like this," saidanother. "I'll tie my handkercher over my head, and I reckon ye'dbetter do the same, my dear."
"Iss, I think," said the housekeeper, drawing her handkerchief from herpocket.
With it came a fluttering scrap of paper. She clutched at it, but agust of wind caught it, and swept it along into the midst of the glowingbuilding.
"Drat it all!" she cried with vexation.
"'Tis to be hoped 'twas not vallyble, my dear," said one of her friends.
"If 'tis a love-letter," said another, "and ye can't hold the man to hispromise, 'twill be a gashly misfortune, to be sure, though maybe he's apoor slack-twisted feller as ye'll be glad to be rid of."
"No, 'tis not that," said the housekeeper.
"Well, ye needn't werrit, if 'tis a bill for yer maister's goods. Billscome over again, 'nation take 'em."
But the housekeeper gave nothing to the probings of neighbourlycuriosity. Afraid to meet her master lest he should question her, sheremained for several hours in the village, taking care not to returnhome until she learnt from a small boy that Mr. Polwhele had been seenriding inland towards Redruth among the dragoons.
Doubledick was on tenter-hooks all that day. His customers noticed howpale he was, and commiserated him on being "took bad" the day beforeChristmas. He jumped at the entrance of every new-comer. A great partof the day he spent in the seclusion of his cellar, gathering together afew valuables, which he placed along with his hoarded money in two stoutbags. As evening drew on he became more and more restless andirritable, and gave short answers to his customers, wishing with all hisheart that he could close his door. He dared not leave the village indaylight, for so many people were about, discussing the incidents of themorning, that he could hardly have escaped without being seen by someone. Never in all his smuggling ventures did he long for darkness as helonged for it to-day.
About six o'clock a lad ran into the inn with the news that a flare hadbeen seen towards Lunnan Cove. It was the time when Tonkin had arrangedto make the run, and Doubledick took the flare as a signal from theriding-officer to Mr. Mildmay on the cutter. The customers poured outof the inn, in anticipation of more excitement before they retired torest.
Meanwhile there had been interesting doings at the Towers. When theSquire, with Tonkin's party, pursued the Frenchmen down the hill, SamPollex slipped away and ran with all his might to the Dower House, wherethe alarm bell was clanging, while smoke poured from the lower windows.He dashed into the house, found the cook in hysterics in the kitchen,and receiving no answer from her when he demanded where Maidy Susan was,hunted through all the floors until at last he discovered her in anattic, tugging frantically at the bell-rope.
"Oh, maidy," he said, "come wi' me, or you'll be smothered in theburnin' fiery furnace. Yer maister be took; come, maidy, please."
He removed the rope from the girl's hands, put his arm about her, andled her quickly down the stairs.
"Where be Cook?" she cried, gasping, half suffocated by the rollingsmoke.
"In kitchen, hollerin' and screamin'," replied Sam.
"Oh! poor thing, we can't leave her. Come, Sam, quick."
They ran into the kitchen, and while Susan tried to calm the frenziedwoman, Sam took down her bonnet from its peg, and set it, hind partbefore, on her head. Then they lifted her, and led her out into theopen air.
"Wherever shall we go?" said Susan. "I declare, I've left all my thingsbehind; I must go back for them."
"Never in life!" said Sam. "I can't hold this great big female upwi'out 'ee. You must come home-along wi' me. Mistress will take 'eein: she do hev a kind heart."
Thus it happened that when Dick reached home in company with the Vicar,Sam met him at the door with a face like the rising sun, and whispered:
"She've come, Maister Dick!"
"Who has come?" asked Dick.
"Maidy Susan, to be sure. Mistress hev right-down took to her, I dobelieve. Cook be here, too, and Feyther do look tarrible low in thesperits, 'cos she told un he'd no more idee than a chiel o' three how tostir up a figgy pudden."
When Dick joined his parents, he found them discussing the future of thetwo women with Mr. Carlyon.
"We can't afford to keep them, you know, Vicar," said Mrs. Trevanion."The girl seems a pleasant, handy young thing, and I should like herabout the house much better than young Sam; but----"
"Exactly," said the Vicar. "Well now, 'tis Christmas Eve. Shall weforget all our troubles, and get our souls in tune for to-morrow? Onething makes for peace, and that is the disappearance of John Trevanion,to whom I trace all the unneighbourly feeling between the village andyou."
Thus the matter was left. After the Vicar had drunk a dish of tea, hewalked back in Dick's company to the Parsonage, his horse having not yetbeen returned to him.
When Mr. Polwhele and the dragoons were seen riding in the direction ofRedruth, they were really proceeding to a sheltered spot on the coastwhence they could watch for the flare which was to signal the approachof the _Isaac and Jacob_ to Lunnan Cove. Mr. Mildmay's cutter waslurking behind a headland not far away. As soon as the blue light wasseen, the riding-officer galloped to the spot, and saw, a littledistance out at sea, a dark shape, which from its size he knew to be thelugger. Igniting another blue light, he was surprised to find that thevessel was making no effort to escape, nor was there the bustle on boardthat might have been expected. There were no tub-carriers in sight; nodoubt, thought he, they had scattered on seeing the flare. He reined upon the beach, and waited for the cutter to appear.
In a few minutes he heard Mr. Mildmay hail the lugger, and by the aid ofanother light he saw the cutter run alongside, and a rummaging crewspring aboard the _Isaac and Jacob_, without opposition. Lamps were liton deck, and the figures of the lieutenant's men could be seendescending into the hold. Immediately afterwards there was a burst ofrough laughter, mingled with a volley of curses; the sailors emergedfrom the hatchway one by one, and Mr. Mildmay's quarter-deck voice washeard abusing something or somebody. Then he and his men returned tothe cutter, which headed for the shore, while the lugger set her sailsand stood out towards the harbour.
"Fooled again, Polwhele!" cried the lieutenant, when he came withinhailing distance. "The hold is empty, and Jake Tonkin, young Pendry,Pennycomequick, and half a dozen more are grinning their heads off."
"Confusion seize 'em!" exclaimed Mr. Polwhele. "I see it! That rascalhas betrayed us, in the hope of redeeming himself with Tonkin. Well, wedeserve it for joining in with such a scoundrel. Depend
upon it, they'vemade their run somewhere else, and are laughing in their sleeves."
The crestfallen officer dismissed the dragoons, who were chuckling athis discomfiture, and rode home.
When Jake Tonkin escaped from Mr. Polwhele's house, he took the shortestcut over the cliffs to the harbour, and reached the shore just as thefour men were running to gain the lugger by way of the reef. He joinedthem, and on meeting his father told him in a few words aboutDoubledick's treachery. Tonkin immediately sent a man back tocountermand the order to await him at Lunnan Cove, and to arrangesecretly with the tub-carriers to assemble at the spot previouslychosen, the creek five miles to the north. He had then run out to sea,and, taking advantage of the mist, made a circuit that brought himastern of the cutter, which was then returning to the harbour. He sunkhis cargo near the mouth of the creek, stepped with one man into thesmall boat he had taken in tow, and sent the rest out to sea again inthe lugger, instructing them to make for Lunnan Cove at the appointedtime.
Consequently, at the moment when the officers were condoling with eachother, Tonkin and his man were rowing into the creek, towards a largebody of tub-carriers gathered on the shore. The boat moved very slowly,and a light thrown on the scene would have revealed, attached to itsstern, a rope on which the first of a line of tubs was bobbing up anddown. When it came within a few yards of the waiting men, half a dozenof them waded out and drew it high on the beach. The rope was thenhauled in, scarcely a word being spoken, and in less than ten minutesthirty men, each carrying two tubs slung across his shoulders, weretrudging to their appointed destinations.
Tonkin was alone. As soon as the men had disappeared, he removed a plugfrom the bottom of the boat, and pushed it towards the middle of thestream, where it sank in eight feet of water. Then he set off with longstrides towards the village. His business was accomplished: now hecould deal with Doubledick.
A few minutes after the flare had been announced in the inn, Doubledick,left alone for a moment, let himself down into the cellar. Not even hiswife knew of his design. He slipped on a pair of goloshes, took up twoheavy and cumbersome sacks, slung them over his shoulders, and hurriedthrough the secret passage, which opened half-way up the narrow-steppedlane. The night was very dark; there was a blind wall on each side ofthe lane; and no one saw the laden man as he crept stealthily up thesteps. Soon he came to a similar passage at right angles to the other,leading down to the bank of the stream. He turned into this, went morequickly to the bottom, and then trudged along among the rushes in thedirection of the bridge.
Coming to that point, he did not ascend by the steps that led to theroad, but passed under the arches and continued his way along thestream. When he had walked about a quarter of a mile, he paused for aminute or two to take breath, then laboriously climbed up the steep bankwith the assistance of bushes and saplings, and came panting to the top.He was now within a few yards of the path that led past the Parsonageacross the moor, and joined the Truro road after a winding course ofnearly a mile. At this hour of the evening he had no doubt that theVicar would be in his study, and his small household engaged inpreparations for the morrow.
Doubledick had gone only a short distance, however, along the path, whenhe caught sight of a figure coming in the other direction. Instantly hestepped on to the grass on the left, and picked his way as carefully ashe could in the darkness over the rough ground and among the furzebushes. He dared not turn his head. The merest glimpse of a pedestrianwas enough to set him quaking; nor had he the courage now to make hisway back to the path. Having met one person he might meet another. Inhis state of panic-fear he saw in every dark bush a man lying in waitfor him, and the thought of tramping for miles over this desolate moorfilled him with terror. There was another way to Truro, by thehigh-road running past the Towers to the cross-road from Newquay. In afew minutes, therefore, he turned again to the left, and struck acrossthe uneven ground towards a point about midway between the Dower Houseand the Towers. Dark as the night was, he would at least see the roadand fare more easily upon it. Passers were rare at this hour, and hehoped, if he should chance to meet any one, to catch sight of him intime to slip aside on to the dark moorland.
As he came to the road, he threw a glance to the left, where the ruinsof the Dower House were smouldering, sparks now and then flyingsouthward on the wind. The sight awoke no reflections, regrets,remorse, in his soul. He was obsessed by anxiety for his own safety.
Dick, having accompanied Mr. Carlyon to the Parsonage, remained therefor an hour or two, talking over the strange events of the day, and thenstarted homeward along the path that would bring him to the bridge. Henoticed a man, bowed beneath a load, turn aside on to the moor, andchuckled at the thought that perhaps the smugglers had made their runafter all, and this was one of the tub-carriers conveying his preciousload to an expectant farmer. Well, it was no business of his. He wenton until he came to the road, turned to the right, sniffing as the windbrought pungent smoke to his nostrils, and when he came opposite to theDower House, which the spectators had now deserted, halted for a fewmoments to contemplate the empty shell, momentarily lit up as a guststirred the embers. It was little more than three months since JohnTrevanion entered into possession. How swiftly retribution hadovertaken him for the ill that he had done! In the short space of anhour his prosperity had vanished like the smoke from his burning house,and he was gone to pay the penalty, Dick could not doubt, for the fraudand trickery of years.
Turning away from the smoking ruins, Dick pursued his homeward way. Afew minutes later he was surprised to see, stepping into the road fromthe unfenced moorland, the same figure as he had seen twenty minutesbefore going in the contrary direction. The man had come from thevillage; why then had he chosen so roundabout a route? His curiositythoroughly aroused, Dick hurried on after the lumbering figure,expecting to overtake it before it reached the Towers. He was struck bythe strange fact that while his own footsteps rang on the hard surfaceof the road, he heard nothing of the movements of the man in front,though the wind was blowing towards him. Fast as he walked, thedistance between them did not appear to lessen. He was convinced nowthat the man was a smuggler, hurrying to avoid observation. Heslackened his pace; it was not worth while chasing the man, even todiscover his identity. To-morrow was Christmas; he was going to sellhis burden, so that he might have the wherewithal to make merry on thefestive day.
The man had just passed the gate leading to the Towers. In less than aminute Dick would turn into the drive and lose sight of him. Butsuddenly there was a dull thud behind, and a glare momentarily lit upthe sky. A portion of the masonry of the Dower House had fallen intothe smouldering mass below, and stirred a fitful flame. Immediatelyafterwards he heard a hoarse cry in front, then a sound of scrambling,of snapping twigs, of heavy footsteps in the field on the other side ofthe hedge in the direction of St. Cuby's Well. Dick knew that there wasa gap a few yards beyond the gate; he raced on, forced his way through,and sprinted after the retreating footsteps. Coming on to higherground, he was able to see, in the dim diffused light thrown by theflickering flames behind, two figures, separated by a short interval,rushing towards the well. One minute they were visible; the next, wherethe ground dipped, they disappeared into pitchy darkness.
Dick saw that the second figure was steadily gaining on the first.Leaving the zigzag course that had been traced by the smugglers, and wasnow followed by the fugitive, the pursuer ran in a more direct line forthe well. The former, perceiving with the instinct of a hunted animalthat he was being headed off, and could not reach the haven of theruined chapel, towards which he was hurrying, without encountering theother, suddenly swerved to the left in the direction of the cliff. Hewas followed instantly by the second man, who now seemed to leap afterhim like a wild animal after its prey. In a few moments, just as theycame to the brink of the cliff, the two men closed. Running towardsthem at headlong speed, Dick heard a furious cry, a scream of terror,and saw one of the men lifted from his feet above the head
of the other.But before the captor could summon his strength for the effort ofhurling the captive over the edge of the cliff, Dick flung himselfforward, caught the victim's feet, and tugged him violently back. Asavage oath broke from the other man's lips. He staggered backward, andattempting to recover his footing, let his burden drop with a dull thudand a jingling crash to the ground.
"Tonkin!" cried Dick, "what are you doing?"
"Out of my way!" shouted the man, throwing himself upon the prostratefigure, from which there came a piteous squeal for mercy.
Dick tried to drag the smuggler from his victim, but he might as readilyhave moved an oak.
"Tonkin, I say!" he cried in agitation, "for God's sake get up. Wouldyou commit murder, like the murderer at the well? Think! Calmyourself! 'Tis Christmas Eve."
A terrible scream rent the air. Dick caught Tonkin by the collar andexerted all his strength to pull him from the fallen body. Finding thisuseless, he flung himself on the ground beside him, and tried to loosenhis grip on the man's throat. He was in despair, when he heard a shoutnear at hand, and the next moment Penwarden rushed to the spot, carryinga lantern.
"'Tis you, Zacky Tonkin!" he cried. "Get on your feet, or I don't carewho the man is, I'll arrest 'ee in the King's name."
The light of the lantern fell on the distorted face beneath him, and forthe first time Dick saw that the victim was Doubledick.
"Think of yer wife and boy," said Penwarden. "Shall they lose 'ee forsuch as he?"
Tonkin's first frenzy of rage had spent itself. He slowly rose to hisfeet, leaving the innkeeper gasping, half-throttled.
There was silence for a space. Dick and Penwarden were held spellboundby the expression upon Tonkin's strong, rugged face. He stood like astatue, gazing down upon the huddled figure of Doubledick. Then heturned.
"You see that man!" he said, in a voice surcharged with emotion. "Hewas my friend. I trusted him. He and I hev worked together this manyyear, fair and foul, winter and summer. And now I know him for what heis, a spy, an informer, that takes money for betrayin' his true mates.Ay, and when things came to nought, he said 'twas my own son that spliton us. Look 'ee see! He carr's his wages wi' un, afeard o' the face ofan honest man. Worm that he is, let him crawl his way to everlastin'bonfire; but no price o' blood shall he take along, nor no one elseshall touch it for evermore."
He stooped, wrenched the bags from the rope, which snapped in his mightyhands like thread, and, lifting each high above his head, hurled it farout into the sea. Then, turning on his heel, he strode away, and wasswallowed up in the black night.
CHAPTER THE TWENTY-FOURTH
Peace and Goodwill
"A merry Christmas!" cried Dick, going into his parents' bedroom earlyin the morning.
"Thank'ee, my boy," said the Squire. "'Twill be the last Christmas weshall spend within these walls, so we will be as merry as we can....Bless my life! Who is that singing?"
Through the open door came the sound of a clear young voice:
"I saw three ships come sailin' in On Christmas Day, on Christmas Day; I saw three ships come sailin' in On Christmas Day in the mornin'."
"'Tis Susan, sir, no doubt," replied Dick.
"Dear me, I had forgotten the maid. Well, 'tis a sweet voice. She ismerry enough, poor soul."
"A very nice girl," said Mrs. Trevanion. "Listen!"
"And what was in those ships all three, On Christmas Day, on Christmas Day? And what was in those ships----"
The singing was interrupted by a rippling peal of laughter.
"Oh, Sam, you'll be the death o' me!" said Maidy Susan. "If you couldonly see the face of 'ee."
"What be purticler about the face o' me?" asked Sam.
"Oh, I can't tell 'ee, only it do make me smile. What was ye thinkin'of?"
"Why, I was wishin' one o' they ships was Maister's--his ship come home,as folks do say."
"Silly boy! 'Twas thousands o' years ago:
"And what was in those ships all three, On Christmas Day in the mornin'?"
"Well, I never heerd that psalm afore. Troll it over to Pendry aforechurch; he've got a wonderful ear, and if ye sing it twice he'll play iton his fiddle bang through wi'out stoppin'. Maybe Pa'son will commandus to sing it instead of 'Aaron's Beard' or 'Now Isr'el say.'"
"I can't go to church, Sam. I must stay and help Cook."
"No; be-jowned if 'ee do. Old Feyther be man enough to help Cook, wi'sech a little small pudden and all. If we'd only knowed ye were comin'we'd ha' made it bigger, cost what it might. But you shall have myshare, Maidy, so don't be cast down in yer soul."
"Bless the boy! Do 'ee think I can't live wi'out pudden?"
"Well, then, if that be yer mind, I'll eat the pudden, and you hev twoservings o' pig--but not too much apple sauce, Maidy."
"Good now! You do talk and talk, and there's the boots to clean and thecloth to lay. We'll never be done. Be off with 'ee."
The voices ceased.
"A very nice girl," repeated Mrs. Trevanion with a sigh. "I wish wecould keep her. She would have a good influence on Sam, who is inclinedto be idle."
Dick smiled.
"When my ship comes home, my dear," said the Squire. "Upon my word,'tis cheering to hear a song in the morning, and the sun shining, too.I think the fire yesterday has burnt some of my melancholy away."
After breakfast they walked over to the church. The people assembled inthe churchyard bobbed and curtsied as the party from the Towers passedup the path, and wished them a merry Christmas, a sign of renewedfriendliness which made the Squire glow with pleasure. There was alarge congregation, and everybody expected that the Vicar would preach asermon bearing on the events of the previous day. He had indeed lookedout two old discourses, one on the text, "The wages of sin is death,"the other on "The ways of transgressors are hard"; but he replaced themin his drawer, and selected a third, on the verse, "Peace on earth,goodwill towards men."
"I won't spoil the day for them," he said to himself; "but they shallnot get off; they shall have something warming next Sunday." The worthyman did not foresee that next Sunday the church would be half empty, thepeople having concluded that he had found the iniquities of JohnTrevanion an unprofitable theme.
After church the young folks trooped into the barn, where a Christmasdinner had been spread for them, and the men flocked down to thevillage, to spend an hour while their wives prepared the meal. For thefirst time in the history of the parish they passed by the open door ofthe Five Pilchards and made their way to the Three Jolly Mariners, tothe delight of the innkeeper and the amazement of its few _habitues_.
In the afternoon someone suggested that they should row out to thefairway to see the rock which Dick had thrown down. The oldsters, aftertheir Christmas dinner, were disinclined to move; but Jake Tonkin, IkePendry, and others of the younger generation hailed the opportunity ofstretching their legs, and a procession of boats rowed out to the spot.The sun, by this time creeping to the west, lit up the face of the cliffwith a ruddy gleam, and a young miner, perched on the top of the rock,called the attention of the others to the appearance of curious streakson the rugged surface of the promontory, where the falling rock hadstruck off fragments as it bounded down.
"They look uncommon like silver," said he.
"'Tis the deceivin' sun," said Jake Tonkin. "Theer bean't neither silvernor tin worth delvin' for hereabouts."
"Maybe, but I be goin' to see," said the miner. "Gie me that boat-hook,my sonny."
He got into a boat, and was rowed to the base of the cliff, whence heclimbed with careful step. The others watched him with more interest inhis feat than in the object of it. On reaching one of the longest ofthe streaks he hacked at the rock with the hook, then suddenly lookedround, and cried--
"Daze me, my sonnies, if it bean't as good silver tin ore as ever Iseed. There's riches here, take my word for't."
"Be-jowned if I
bean't fust to tell Squire," cried Jake Tonkin,instantly pulling his boat round and making for the shore. The othersfollowed him, deaf to the entreaties of the miner to come back and takehim off. Half-a-dozen boats raced madly to the beach; a score of youthssprang out, dashed through the village, up the hill, and along the highroad. One, thinking to gain an advantage over the rest, tried to leapone of John Trevanion's fences, and fell headlong to the ground, hiscompetitors shouting with laughter, none attempting to emulate him.
Jabez Mail, the son of Simon, arrived first at the Towers, but IkePendry, only a yard behind, caught him by the tail of his Sunday coat,and while the two were wrestling, Jake Tonkin slipped past them andrushed into the house without knocking. Remembering the situation ofthe Squire's room from his last visit, he ran straight to it, followedby a dozen others, some entering with him, others crowding at the door.
Within the room sat the Squire and Dick, with the Vicar, Mr. Mildmay,and Mr. Polwhele, smoking before a huge log fire. They had started upat the sound of heavy boots clattering along the passage, and stood inamazement as the young fishers, red and blown with running, clumped in.
"What do you mean by this?" exclaimed the Squire testily. "D'you thinkthis is an inn?"
Jake, the foremost, was at once overcome by his habitual sheepishness,and stood as though glued to the floor, twisting his hat between hishands, and grinning vacantly. Ike Pendry thrust him aside.
"Please, sir, I be come----" he began.
"Scrounch 'ee, I was fust!" cried Jake, suddenly recovering his speech,and sticking his elbow into Ike's ribs.
"Now, now," said Mr. Carlyon severely, "this is very unmannerlybehaviour. What do you mean by it?"
"Please, yer reverence," said Ike, "theer be great and noble richesdown-along at Beal. We be come with all our legs to tell Squire."
"I was fust," added Jake.
"You're a liard," said young Mail, thrusting his way to the front. "Iwas fust, only Ike Pendry catched me by the tail o' my coat, which hecouldn' ha' done if 'twere a common day."
"Well, then, Jabez," said the Vicar, "as you seem to have best commandof your breath, perhaps you will tell us the meaning of these antics."
"Iss, fay, that I woll," said the lad. "We pulled out to the Beal, tosee wi' our own eyes the rock as Maister Dick tumbled down, and TimSolly, the miner, says, says he, 'Be-jowned, my sonnies, if it bean'tthe noblest silver tin as ever I seed.' 'Twas the rock, yer reverence,and genelum all, had strook away the ground as covered it, and theer'tis, bidin' to be dug out."
The Squire's face, as he listened to this, flushed and paled by turns.
"This is most extraordinary," said the Vicar. "I think we had betterall go down to the Beal and see for ourselves."
"We will," said Mr. Polwhele. "Come along, Squire."
"'Tis pure fancy," murmured the Squire. "The ore would have beendiscovered long ago if it existed. My old mine comes within a few yardsof the Beal."
"We can but see," said Mr. Mildmay. "Let us go at once, before the sunis down."
They hurried forth, the messengers following, Sam being now among them.As they went, the crowd was increased by many more of the villagers, whohad poured out of their houses when they heard of the stampede. In afew minutes they reached the Beal, at the spot where the fallen rock hadstood.
"Hi!" shouted a voice from below; "up or down, I don't care which it be,but I can't bide here all the cold night."
"Don't 'ee werrit, my son," said Tonkin, who had joined the throng."Fling up a mossel o' that shinin' rock they tell about."
"Mind yer head, then, my dear, or 'twill hurt 'ee."
Up came a jagged knob of rock, which Tonkin deftly caught and handed tothe Squire. A breathless silence fell on the crowd as he turned it overin his trembling hands. He passed it to Mr. Polwhele, and he in turn tothe foreman of Trevanion's mine, who stood by.
"'Tis tin ore, gentlemen, without doubt," he said, "and, I think, veryrich in metal. You will do well, sir, to bring an assayer to test it."
His words were received with a joyous shout. Caps were flung into theair; a hundred lusty throats roared cheers for the Squire. Mr. Carlyongrasped his old friend's hand.
"'Hold fast the rock by the western sea!'" he said. "Wonderful!Wonderful!"
"Let us keep our heads," said the Squire. "It may be a false hope."
"Hi!" shouted the miner. "When be I a-comin' up-along?"
"Never, my son," cried Tonkin. "We can't heave 'ee up wi'out doin' adeal o' damage to yer mortal frame. Bide quiet, and we'll fetch 'ee ina boat."
"I'll never disbelieve in witches again," said the Vicar. "Dick! Whereis the boy? 'Twas an inspiration--upon my word it was."
Dick was not to be found. He was running like a deer to tell his motherthe great news. Sam followed, hopelessly outstripped, eager to pour thestory into the ears of Maidy Susan. The Squire and his friends returnedmore slowly to the house, and the people, giving him a parting cheer,hurried to the village.
When a mixed crowd of fishers, farmers, and miners entered the taproomof the Three Jolly Mariners, they found Joe Penwarden comfortablysettled in the place nearest the fire. As an excise-man, he had neverfrequented the smugglers' haunt at the Five Pilchards, but occasionallydropped in for a glass at the other inn. Observing Tonkin, Pendry, anda dozen more free-traders among the newcomers, he shook the ashes out ofhis church-warden, gulped down his grog, and rose to go. It was againstthe rules of the service to consort with smugglers, known or suspected.
"Bide where ye be, Maister," said Tonkin, heartily. "'Tis peace andgoodwill to-day, and though some may hate 'ee like a toad o' commondays, we'll treat 'ee like a true Christian to-day; what do 'ee say,neighbours all?"
"Ay, Maister," said Pendry, "set 'ee down and hark to the noble historywe've got to tell 'ee. 'Tis rum-hot all round--eh, souls?"
They pressed Penwarden into his chair, and, all speaking together,poured into his ears the story of the great discovery.
"Well," he said presently, "'tis the noblest Christmas box as ever mangot in this weary world."
"Iss, sure," said Petherick, adding in his ecclesiastical manner, "'Tis'My soul doth magnify' for Squire and parish too, I don't care who theman is."
"True," said Penwarden, "and little small fellers like we must gie themabove the credit o't. Theer be doin's in high parts as we cannot makehead or tail of. Squire's cousin comes here, a right-down villain,a-deceivin' high and low from Sir Bevil himself down to small fry like'ee."
"That no man can deny," said Tonkin.
"And yet," pursued Penwarden, enjoying his unaccustomed _role_ asoracle,--"and yet, if he hadn' a-come, theer'd 'a been no Frenchy pokinghis nose in Polkerran, and no call for Maister Dick to shift a stonethat has held to the same moorings maybe since the beginnin' o' theworld. Ay, the Almighty do say a word sometimes to us miserable worms."
The old man's solemnity caused a hush to fall on the assembly. For somemoments no one spoke. The room filled with clouds of smoke. ThenPenwarden took his pipe from his mouth, and, in a different tone, said:"It minds me o' Lord Admiral Rodney."
"What do mind 'ee of him, Maister?" asked Simon Mail, whose arm was in asling.
"Why, a high person speakin' to a low. Did 'ee never hear how the LordAdmiral once upon a time spoke special to me?"
"Never in life, Maister," said Mail. "Spet out the story for the goodof us all."
"Well, 'twas on Plymouth Hoe. Theer was I, takin' a spell ashore, andcruisin' about: ah! I had a good figurehead in them gay young days.Daze me if Lord Admiral Rodney didn' run athwart my course, convoyingtwo spankin' fine craft in the shape of females. The sight took thewind out o' my sails, I assure 'ee, and I fell becalmed full in thefairway, as ye med say. 'Get out o' my way, you cross-eyed son of asea-cook,' says the Lord Admiral, and the two handsome females laughedlike waves dancin' in the sun. 'Twas a wonderful honour for a greatman-o'-war like Lord Admiral Rodney to speak to a humble and lowlyfeller like me."
&nbs
p; "'Twas a gashly scornful name to call 'ee, I b'lieve," saidPennycomequick, the village wet-blanket.
"Ah! but you should ha' heerd what he called the swabbers aboard,"replied Penwarden, lighting another pipe.
The result of the assayer's tests was more satisfactory than the mostsanguine had dared to anticipate. The ore was particularly rich inmetal, and the lode appeared to extend through the lower part of theBeal seaward. A careful examination of the ground explained the reasonwhy the discovery had not been made earlier. Between the old mine andthe new lode extended several yards of granite, by what is known ingeology as a "fault."
When the assayer declared that in all probability the tin-bearingstratum stretched for thousands of yards under the sea, the question tobe debated was whether the Squire should sell the land, or attempt towork it himself. There was little doubt as to what his decision wouldbe. His long-vanished ideas of restoring the fortunes of his familyreturned with double force, and it scarcely needed the persuasiveness ofMr. Carlyon and Dick to fix his determination. The ground having beenthoroughly surveyed, his new lawyer in Truro had no difficulty innegotiating a loan which furnished him with enough capital to startworking. Plant was soon on the spot, miners were engaged, and within afew months the yield was sufficient to pay the interest on the loan, aportion of the capital sum, and a contribution towards the increasedexpenditure at the Towers. Now that the tide had turned towardsprosperity, the Squire put in hand the repairs long needed there, andMrs. Trevanion decided to retain Cook and Maidy Susan in her employment.
The question of Dick's future came up. Mr. Carlyon urged that he shouldcontinue his studies and go to Oxford; but Dick's inclination was for amore strenuously active life. He worked for a time as a common miner inorder to learn the details of the trade, visited other mines to widenhis knowledge, and ultimately became his father's manager, in whichcapacity he showed a genius for organisation and the control of men.
Sam Pollex, basking in the continual sunshine of Maidy Susan's smile,became the Squire's gardener, and was very proud of the results of hishandiwork. He grew a few inches, and by the time he was twenty stood alittle higher than Susan's shoulder. Convinced that he would grow nomore, he asked her to marry him, pointing out that though she was olderin years, he was older in knowledge: that she looked younger than shewas, and he older. They made a match of it, Susan's wedding dress beingfashioned out of a blue silk recovered from the cave.
A month or two after the day of the great discovery, the Collector atPlymouth paid a visit to Polkerran, and decided that Penwarden was tooold for his post. This gave deep offence to the old man. "Too old, beI?" said he; "we'll see about that." The Squire offered him the post ofoverseer at his new mine, which he accepted. His indignation at theslight put upon him in the King's name scarcely diminished with thelapse of time, and a village tradition asserts that, during the next tenyears, the smuggler who caused the most trouble and annoyance to therevenue officers was Joe Penwarden, once exciseman. But no one who knewthe old man's strong sense of duty, and had heard him speak of hisservice under Admiral Rodney, could ever believe that the actions of hislater life so far belied his principles.
About six months after John Trevanion's disappearance, a billposter camefrom Truro and posted notices on the fences of the desolate grounds ofthe Dower House, and Petherick, as village crier, rang his bell andproclaimed the approaching sale of "all that messuage and tenement," etcetera. It was already known, through the resumption of businessrelations between Tonkin and Delarousse, that the latter had thrownTrevanion into prison, and lodged a claim against him for therestitution of large sums of money which he had obtained by a systematiccourse of fraud. When the day of the sale came, it was remarked thatnone of the neighbouring land-owners put in an appearance except SquireTrevanion. Sir Bevil Portharvan had, in fact, personally persuaded hisfriends to absent themselves, and leave the bidding to the Squire. Asis generally the case with forced sales, the bids were low, and theestate was knocked down to Mr. Trevanion of the Towers, at aridiculously small figure. The proceeds of the sale did not suffice toclear John Trevanion, who remained in prison until his death of fever ayear later. The Squire told Mr. Carlyon that as soon as Dick set aboutseeking a wife, he would rebuild the Dower House. But Dick did notmarry until after his father's death, sixteen years later, and the siteof the Dower House was then a picturesque ruin.
Doubledick was never again seen in Polkerran, nor was anything directlyheard of him by his former associates. The inn lost all its customers,who transferred their favours to the Three Jolly Mariners. In threemonths, Mrs. Doubledick was on the brink of ruin, and one day shemounted the carrier's cart, with a few bundles, and departed, no oneknew whither.
Some few years afterwards, the landlord of a low public-house in theprecinct of Whitefriars, London--a haunt of thieves, coiners, and otherbad characters--was discovered in an alley behind the house, dead, witha bullet-wound in his temple. He went by the name of Brown, and wasbelieved to be a West-countryman. It was rumoured that his murderer wasone of a gang whom he had betrayed to the police. No one came forward toclaim relationship with him, and he was buried by the parish.
For many years rare visitors to the village wondered at a dilapidatedbuilding that stood near the jetty, its windows broken, its doorblistered by the sun, the fragment of a signboard creaking on a rustypole whenever the wind blew in from the sea--a mournful symbol ofneglect and decay. If any stranger was curious enough to inquire intothe history of this unpicturesque ruin, he would always find a small boyready to conduct him to the house of one of the Tonkins, who related,with the exactitude of personal knowledge, the lamentable story ofDoubledick the informer.
BRADBURY, AGNEW, & CO. LD., PRINTERS, LONDON AND TONBRIDGE.
* * * * * * * *
STORIES BY HERBERT STRANG
UNIFORM WITH THIS VOLUME
"The best of living writers for boys."--_Manchester Guardian_.
"The majority of writers of boys' books are content to provide theiryoung friends with mere reading. Herbert Strang offers themliterature."--_Glasgow Herald_.
HUMPHREY BOLD: His Chances and Mischances by Land and Sea. A Story ofthe Time of Benbow
"Mr. Strang's work is astonishingly vivid and alive, and he imparts hisvaried and wide knowledge with the easy mastery of anartist."--_Publishers' Circular_.
ROB THE RANGER: a Story of the Fight for Canada.
"A stirring story of the Fight for Canada, bringing into relief theromantic side of the great struggle, and showing the author's keenobservation, rapid and lucid narration, and clever construction at theirbest."--_Educational Times_.
ONE OF CLIVE'S HEROES: a Story of the Fight for India.
"An absorbing story ... The narrative not only thrills, but also weavesskilfully out of fact and fiction a clear impression of our fiercestruggle for India."--_Athenaeum_.
PALM TREE ISLAND: a Story of the South Seas.
"For desperate daring and resourceful ingenuity Harry Brent and BillyBobbin will be hard to beat, and many will be the boy who finds thisstory of their trip to the South Seas full of fascination andinterest."--_Army and Navy Gazette_.
*PRICE SIX SHILLINGS EACH*
The Adventures of Dick Trevanion: A Story of Eighteen Hundred and Four Page 23