Then very cautiously, moving so slowly that he hardly disturbed the bushes through which he passed, Lord Cheriton crawled a little nearer.
Now, although it was merely the difference between one grey and another, his eyes had become accustomed to the dark and he could see a small patch of sea and the sharp outlines of the cliffs falling to the rocks beneath them.
There was the sound of men’s voices giving orders, then the crunch of feet on shingle.
Lord Cheriton knew that if the boat was a lugger and too large to come right into the creek, a human chain of tub-carriers would be formed, the unlucky ones waist deep in the surf, while the tubs and the dry goods would be passed rapidly hand to hand to the shore.
The main difficulty in catching smugglers while at sea was the superb sailing ability to windward of the huge smuggling luggers.
Their great waterline length gave them a high maximum speed, then the lugsail, not being fastened at its leading edge to the thick mast, developed an ‘aerofoil’ shape.
This meant that a lugger not only could sail faster but could also sail closer to the wind.
Smaller smuggling vessels were also rigged as ‘cutters,’ with the mobility of their long bowsprits making the job of the Preventative Service even more arduous.
Now there were voices and the sound of footsteps of those coming up from the beach carrying tubs to be loaded onto the waiting ponies.
It was difficult for Lord Cheriton to see very much, since the smugglers used no lights.
They would have known by instinct and long practice exactly what to do, and he heard several men grunt as they lifted the heavy load from their shoulders onto a saddle.
Then, doubtless wiping the sweat from their foreheads, they hurried down to the boat again.
Suddenly quite near to him, Lord Cheriton heard a man speak.
It was in fact so near that it startled him and for a moment he held his breath in case he had been discovered.
Then a man said,
“I want to tell you somethin’, Jeffrey.”
It was a rough voice, and low, and yet it was perfectly audible to Lord Cheriton.
“What’s happened?”
It was obviously Farlow who was answering.
“Nothin’ bad, but somemat that might interest you.”
“What’s that?”
“The chance of earning forty thousand pounds!”
“Forty thousand pounds? How the hell could we do that, Tom?”
Now Lord Cheriton guessed who was speaking, and he was also sure that he had found the leader of the larks gang.
It was Tom Johnson, the famous smuggler who headed the list that had been compiled for Lord Cheriton in London.
“What’ve we got to do to get money like that?” Farlow asked and there was a greedy note in his voice.
“Rescue Bonaparte!”
For a moment there was silence.
Then Farlow asked incredulously,
“Are you serious?”
“Completely serious. His friends have approached me and there’s no doubt they’re prepared to pay forty thousand pounds or more if we’re successful.”
“In getting him away from Elba? Impossible!”
“Why should it be impossible?”
“Do you really mean you’re contemplating undertaking such a risk?”
“Why not? At the rate of profit we’re making with this lot, t’would take years to make as much as that.”
“That’s true,” Farlow answered, “but he’ll be guarded – heavily guarded.”
“On an island? I doubt it! They’ll rely on the sea. According to his French friends, they’re not being over arduous in watching him, seeing as how he’s been defeated.”
There was silence, then Farlow said,
“It’s certainly worth considering.”
“You’ll have to make up your mind soon. If we refuse, there’re others who’d jump at the chance of so much money.”
“If it’s possible to be done, you’re the only man, Tom, who could do it”
“That’s what I thinks myself, and on that money I’d retire.”
“And so would I,” Farlow said. “A country gentleman, highly respectable.”
He gave a low laugh as if the idea pleased him. Lord Cheriton had the idea that he was thinking of Wivina – and he longed to get his hands on Farlow’s throat.
Then Farlow asked,
“You’re coming back with me tonight?”
“No, Jeffrey. I wants to get back to France. I’ve got a meeting in Roscoff on the morrow with these people who are prepared to pay to have their Emperor back. If I clinch the deal, you’d better come over. We’ll have to build a special boat, but there’s no difficulty about that.”
“Not if they’ll pay for it.”
“They’ll do that. They’ll do anythin’ I ask of them.”
“Forty thousand quid!” Farlow said almost beneath his breath. “That’s a hell of a lot of money!”
“And a hell of a lot of risk,” Tom Johnson replied. “If you want to join in the talk, come over in the other boat.”
“They’ll cross tomorrow. They’re rested by now.”
“They’d better be. There’s no point in missing this weather. We did record time this eve.”
“I believe you. I only got here a few minutes ago.”
“I’m glad you did. I wanted to see you. You’re in agreement, then, that we try to get Bonaparte back to France?”
“Half the money down afore we start on the boat!”
“I’ll make sure of that. We might even ask for the lot!”
“Why not?” Farlow enquired.
“Why not, indeed?” Johnson replied.
Lord Cheriton thought that Tom Johnson had started to walk away, then he heard Jeffrey Farlow say,
“By the way, Tom, there’s a stranger in the village. Moved into Larks Hall.”
“Who is he?”
“He’s been an Army Officer, he says.”
“There’s plenty of them driftin’ about.”
“I don’t care for this man. He turned up with a man-servant and persuaded Wivina to put him up.”
Tom Johnson laughed.
“And that got under your skin, eh, Jeffrey? She’s a pretty piece. You’d best get her into bed afore someone else fancies her.”
“She’ll marry me!” Farlow said harshly.
Tom Johnson laughed mockingly, then he said angrily,
“We can’t afford to take any chances. What the hell do you mean by letting strangers into Larkswell? Get rid of them. Get rid of them both.”
“I intend to.”
“The sooner the better! You might try a little persuasion on the servant to make him talk. He’ll probably crack soon enough!”
Without waiting for Jeffrey Farlow’s reply, Tom Johnson must have walked away.
Lord Cheriton heard him ask,
“Is that the lot?”
“Aye!”
He was aware that Jeffrey Farlow was standing where Tom Johnson had left him.
Some moments passed before finally he heard him move, following the ponies, which were already going back the way they had come.
The whole operation had taken a very short time, so short that Lord Cheriton was aware that the tugmen were experts, doubtless from long experience.
What he had overheard astounded him.
Yet it was certainly a clever idea of the French that the smugglers should organise Bonaparte’s escape from the island where he had been confined.
It had always been alleged that the smugglers had regularly carried war secrets and French spies across the Channel.
There were several instances which Lord Cheriton had studied where for sufficient reward they had taken home escaped prisoners of war.
He remembered now that a West Country smuggler, Jack Rattenbury, was caught after he had agreed to take four French Officers back to France for one hundred pounds.
The Officers had been arrested at a seaside house where Rattenbur
y had hidden them, but what was so fantastic was that he had bluffed the Magistrates, doubtless because they were afraid of him, into believing that he had thought the prisoners in question were natives of Jersey.
They had therefore dismissed him with a gentle admonition to go home and not engage in any similar escapades in the future.
But transporting French Officers from England was a very different thing from liberating Napoleon from Elba. Lord Cheriton knew that if Napoleon could get back to France, it would be possible for him to rally together the remnants of his Army and lead them once again into battle.
‘The Prime Minister must know about this,’ he thought to himself, and waited impatiently until it was safe to crawl back through the bushes towards the wood.
Another thing he had learnt was that Johnson and Farlow were running two boats, one from France, one from Larkswell. He guessed that the one from France was manned by Englishmen who had reason for keeping out of their own country.
Men who were being hunted for crimes, or escaped convicts, were the type of material Johnson would find easy to recruit. Their other boat would be rowed by Larkswell men.
He had also learnt that it was Roscoff from which Johnson was operating.
When in 1767 restrictions were imposed by Whitehall on Guernsey, the small and insignificant hamlet of Roscoff on the Brittany coast became overnight an important entrepôt.
Until then an unknown and unfrequented haven harbouring only a few fishermen and their families, it grew rapidly, so that instead of small hovels, it soon comprised commodious dwellings and large warehouses occupied by English, Scottish, Irish, and Guernsey merchants.
These gave every incentive to the English smugglers while the French Government encouraged the merchants.
“A smuggler,” the Surveyor General had said, “can buy geneva or cognac for a pound per four-gallon tub which will sell in England at four pounds or more.”
“A good turnover!” Lord Cheriton remarked.
“So is tea and tobacco at sevenpence a pound which will fetch up to five shillings once it has crossed the Channel.”
Lord Cheriton crawled away towards the wood and it was a relief when he could rise to his feet and start to move quickly through the trees, finding a twisting path that he remembered using as a boy.
He was planning in his mind what he would do, when suddenly through the trees in front of him where he knew that a second later he would have his first view of Larks Hall he saw leaning against a tree the outline of a man.
Lord Cheriton stopped dead in his tracks.
He had moved through the wood far more swiftly than he had previously.
Now he knew that he had taken a foolish risk, which might have carried terrible consequences in its train.
Farlow was having Larks Hall watched!
Why he was not sure, unless it was that even before he went to meet his partner Tom Johnson, Farlow had no intention of letting two strangers leave Larkswell without his being aware of it.
Lord Cheriton thought now that while Farlow was determined that he should leave The Hall, he and Nickolls would not be allowed to get far.
If there was a so-called accident, it would not happen in the village, but in all probability outside it, perhaps in the wild uninhabited part of the land that ended in the South Downs.
Holding his breath and moving so silently that it would have been impossible for anyone to hear him, Lord Cheriton retreated.
There was always the danger that he might step on a dry twig or trip over brambles in the undergrowth, but he felt the way with each foot before he put it down, and finally, with a feeling of relief, he realised he was out of ear-shot of the watcher.
He then dropped down through the trees, keeping amongst the overgrown rhododendron bushes until he reached the kitchen garden and the shadow of its high Elizabethan walls.
He realised it would be too dangerous for him to enter the house even by the way he had left it, for, although the door was hidden, it was still a door and he must take no risks where Jeffrey Farlow was concerned.
Instead he found his way to a wing of the kitchen garden where there was a water butt and a lean-to that he had often used as a boy.
It put him in reach of a window on the first floor which had had a defective catch and Lord Cheriton doubted it had ever been mended.
When he climbed up to it, he found that the catch was unnecessary as the glass had fallen from the window and the frame was broken.
He climbed in and realised that this part of the house was uninhabitable because plaster from the ceilings was all over the floor and it crunched under his feet.
He found his way to the front landing, turning not towards his own room but to the one which he knew had been allotted to Nickolls. He entered without knocking.
He could hear the sound of his servant’s deep breathing and called his name in a low voice,
“Nickolls!”
The man’s response was instantaneous, the quick alertness of a soldier used to danger.
“Sir?”
“We have to leave immediately, Nickolls! Get dressed, pack our things, and wait for me in my room.”
“Very good, sir.”
He might have been giving an order with nothing unusual about it.
It was typical of the manner in which Lord Cheriton had been served by the men who campaigned with him that they asked no questions but were ready to spring into action immediately, simply because he required it of them.
He went along the landing until he reached Wivina’s room.
Again, he entered without knocking, and now there was the fragrance of roses and lilies, which brought back vividly the memory of his mother.
He saw that the curtains were drawn back over one of the windows and by the faint light from the stars, he could see the shadowy outline of the great bed with the curtains falling from its high corona.
Lord Cheriton walked towards it and now he knew that Wivina was asleep.
He sat down on the side of the bed and put out his hand to touch hers where it lay on top of the sheet.
She awoke with a little cry.
“It’s all right, my darling,” he said softly.
“It is – you!”
Her fingers tightened on his and her voice was a little sleepy, but he could hear the love in it.
“Listen, my precious,” Lord Cheriton said. “I have to leave you.”
“Why? Are you in danger?”
She was wide awake now and she pushed herself up against the pillows, holding onto his hand with both of hers.
“I have to leave,” Lord Cheriton said, choosing his words with care, “but only for a very short time. When I return the day after tomorrow, if it is possible, I will take Richard and you away with me to safety.”
“Oh, leopard, can you do that?”
“I can and I will!” Lord Cheriton said firmly. “But, my sweet, whatever happens, you must not show that you are upset at my leaving.”
He thought for a moment, then he said,
“I will write you a conventional note thanking you for your hospitality. If Farlow thinks he has driven me away, that should please him and keep him quiet for the moment.”
“But – you will – come back?”
“Need you ask such a foolish question?”
“I shall be – afraid without you – and I shall – miss you.”
“As I shall miss you,” Lord Cheriton answered, “but I promise you, my lovely one, it will not be for long.”
He bent forward as he spoke, his lips seeking hers, and as he did so, her arms went round his neck.
He kissed her and once again there was the rapture and wonder that they had felt before.
Yet now there was an urgency and an agony in knowing that they must part, even if it was only for a short while.
Lord Cheriton held her close and kissed her eyes, her cheeks, her ears, then the softness of her neck. He felt her move against him and knew that he thrilled her.
“I
love you! I love you until it is almost unbearable to leave you!”
“Why can I not – come with you?” Wivina whispered.
“Not tonight, my darling.”
“Then it is dangerous! You are leaving because you are –in danger!”
“I am leaving because for the moment it would be more dangerous for me to stay,” Lord Cheriton replied, “and when I come back I shall bring help. I have to ensure that you and Richard can escape with me.”
“You don’t know – what they are – like,” Wivina murmured beneath her breath.
Lord Cheriton thought he knew only too well, but he had no intention of telling Wivina what had been planned, and aloud he said,
“You promised you would trust me and I want you to show the courage your father showed. Remember that you have a leopard to look after you, a leopard who can defeat the most formidable and ferocious enemy.”
“I believe that,” Wivina said. “Promise me that you will take care of yourself. If anything should – happen to you, I would – die too.”
There was a note in her voice that made Lord Cheriton kiss her fiercely, almost violently.
With an effort he laid her back against the pillows and rose.
“Goodbye, my darling,” he said. “Pray as you prayed before for yourself and also for me.”
“You know I will be doing that,” Wivina answered, “and I think because God and perhaps Papa sent you to me, we shall be – allowed to be happy together.”
“I am sure of that,” Lord Cheriton answered.
As he spoke, he moved away from the bed towards the door.
Only as he reached it did Wivina say,
“I love you! You will not forget I love you?”
“I shall remember it every second I am away from you,” he answered and went out, closing the door behind him.
When he reached his own room, it was to find that Nickolls had nearly finished packing his things in the rolled-up blankets they attached to their saddles.
Lord Cheriton did not speak, but went to the desk and wrote a note.
Rising, he made a gesture with his head that told Nickolls to follow him, and picking up his hat and riding gloves from the chair where they lay, he started down the corridor without looking back.
Nickolls blew out the candles, then carrying a rolled blanket under each arm he followed his Master along the passage to the window through which Lord Cheriton had entered the house from the garden.
Love and the Loathsome Leopard Page 9