Devon Boys Part 62

"Yes, father," I said; "there must be, and we don't want to do it; but if anyone comes breaking into the mine premises to steal, they must take the consequences."

"Yes, Sep," said my father sternly, "they must, for I have enough of the old fighting-man left in me to make me say that I should not give up quietly if I was put to the proof."

I thought a good deal about my father's words, but though I regularly made Bigley my confidant, and told him pretty well everything, I did not tell him that, for I knew it would make him very uncomfortable, and besides it seemed such a horrible idea for us to have to be fighting against his father--our men against his.

The time went on, and we kept on hearing about the French war, but we seemed to be, away there in our quiet Devon combe, far from all the noise and turmoil, and very little of the news excited us.

We knew when there was a big fight, and when one side got the better of the other; but to read the papers we always appeared to get the victory.

But, as I say, it did not seem to concern us much, only when the country traffic was a bit disturbed, and our lead began to acc.u.mulate for want of the means of sending it away.

"I don't so much mind the lead, Sep," my father used to say; "what I mind is the silver."

This was when the store beneath the counting-house became charged with too valuable a collection of ingots; and the second time this happened my father suddenly altered his arrangements.

"I can't rest satisfied that all is safe," he said, "when I am away at the Bay, and this place is only depending upon locks and keys."

"What shall you do then, father?" I asked. "Have a watchman!"

He nodded.

"Who? Old Sam?"

"No," he said; "ourselves, Sep, my lad. It will not be so comfortable, but while the country is so disturbed we will come and live over here."

No time was lost, and in two days the upper rooms of the counting-house and store had been filled with furniture, and Kicksey came over for the day, and went back at night, after cooking and cleaning for us.

As my father said, it was not so comfortable as being at home, but we were ready enough to adapt ourselves to circ.u.mstances; and any change was agreeable in those days.

Bigley was delighted, for it robbed his rather lonely life of its dulness, and he never for a moment realised why the change had been made.

But though we were always on the spot, my father relaxed none of his old preparations. Every other day there was an hour's drill or sword practice. Sometimes an evening was taken for the use of the pistols; and, by degrees, under my father's careful instructions, the little band of about twelve men had grown into a substantial trustworthy guard of st.u.r.dy fellows, any one of whom was ready to give a good account of himself should he be put to the test.

At first my father had been averse to Bigley drilling with us, but he raised no obstacle, for he said to me, "We can let him learn how to use the weapons, Sep, but it does not follow that he need fight for us."

"And I'm sure he would not fight against us, father," I said laughing.

So Bigley grew to be as handy with the cutla.s.s as any of the men, and no mean shot with the pistol.

As for Bob Chowne, he came over and drilled sometimes, and he was considered to be our surgeon--that is, by Bigley and me--but he was not with us very often, for his father kept him at work studying medicine, meaning him to be a doctor later on; but, as Bob expressed it, he was always was.h.i.+ng bottles or making pills, though as a fact neither of these tasks ever came to his share.

Four months--five months--six months had gone by since the adventure with the cutter, and Bigley had only had two or three letters sending him money, and saying that his father was quite well, but there was not a word of returning; and it struck me old Jonas must have had means of knowing that his son was still in the old cottage, or he would not have gone on sending money without having an answer back.

The rumours about the war seemed to affect us less than ever, and I was growing so accustomed to my busy life that I thought little of my old amus.e.m.e.nts, save when now and then I went out for an evening's fis.h.i.+ng with Bigley, the old boat having been brought over from Ripplemouth, none the worse for its trip.

The mine went on growing more productive, and, in spite of the great expenses, it seemed as if my father would become a wealthy man. Lead was sent one way, silver another, and when the latter acc.u.mulated, as we were on the spot, my father dismissed his anxiety, and we were gradually becoming lulled into a feeling of repose, save when Bigley talked about his father, and then once more a little feeling of doubt and insecurity would slip in, as might have been the case in the olden times when the people near sh.o.r.e learned that some Saxon or Danish s.h.i.+p was hovering about the coast.

CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT.

THE LANDING OF THE FRENCH.

It was nine months now since the scene, at the little bay, when one soft spring evening Bigley and I were walking slowly back to the Gap, after seeing Bob Chowne part of the way home to Ripplemouth. The feeling of coming summer was in the air, the birds were singing in the oak woods their last farewell to the day, and from time to time we startled some thrush and spoiled his song.

Every now and then a rabbit gave us a glance at his furry coat as he sprang along, but soon it grew so dark that all we saw after each rustle was the speck of white which indicated his cottony tail, and soon even that was invisible.

The thin sharp line of the new moon hung low in the west, and the sea had quite a steely gleam in the dying day, while the stars were peeping out and beginning to look at themselves in the gla.s.sy surface of the sea.

Here and there we could see the coasting vessels going up and down the Channel, and just beneath the sinking moon there was a larger vessel coming up with the tide, but it was getting too dark to make out what it was. We kept along by the cliff path, and as we came to the descent that led to the cottage Bigley and I parted, little thinking what an eventful night it was to prove.

"You'll come up by and by," I shouted, when he was about half-way down; and he sent back a cheery reply that he would, as I went on along the Gap.

I found my father seated before his books entering some statement by the light of a candle, and as I came in he thrust the book from him wearily.

"Oh, there you are, then," he said good-humouredly. "Look here, young fellow, I don't see why I should go on worrying and toiling over this mine just to make you well off. I was happy and comfortable enough without it, and here am I wearing myself out, getting no pleasure and no change, and all for you."

"Sell it then, father," I said. "I don't want you to work so hard for me. I don't want to be rich. Give it up."

"No," he said smiling; "no, Sep. It gives me a great deal of care and anxiety, but I do not mind. The fact is, Sep, I was growing fat and rusty, and loosing my grip on the world. A do-nothing life is a mistake, and only fit for a pet dog, and him it kills. I wanted interesting work, and here it is, and I am making money for you at the same time."

"But I don't think I want much money, father," I said.

"Maybe you will when you grow older."

"I wish I could help you better," I said.

"Help me? Why, I am quite satisfied with you, my boy. You help me a great deal. There, put away those books, and let us have some supper.

I find we have nearly eight thousand ounces of silver down below here, and it's far too much to have in our charge. We must get it away, Sep, as soon as we can."

"What would eight thousand ounces be worth?" I said.

"Somewhere about two thousand pounds, my lad. But there, let's have some supper, and then I should like to have a pipe for half an hour in the soft fresh air."

A tray was already waiting upon a side-table, and bringing it to occupy the place where the books had lain, we sat down and ate a hearty meal before we had done, after which I lifted the tray aside, and handed my father the tobacco jar.

In a few minutes he began to fill his pipe, and when he had lit it, I sat watching him and noticed how the soft thin smoke began to curl about his face, and float up between me and the row of cutla.s.ses and pistols with the belts that were arranged along the wall.

"Now, let's have ten minutes' fresh air before we go to bed," he said rising. "You don't want to come, I suppose."

"Oh, yes, I'll come," I replied, and I stepped out with him into the soft transparent night.

"Ah, that's delicious!" he exclaimed as we walked a little way down the Gap, and then struck up the path leading to the high cliff track.

It was very dark, but at the same time clear; and as we paused after a time there were the lights below us in the new cottages, while above the stars shone out brilliantly and twinkled as if it was about to be a frost.

"What a calm peace there is over everything!" said my father thoughtfully. "Why, Sep, my very weariness seems to be a pleasure, it is so full of the promise of rest."

"I'm tired too," I said. "I've been walking a good way to-day. How plainly you can hear the sea!"