Captain Mugford Part 16

"What has become of Walter and the rest, it is impossible to say," added Drake. "Too probably they have been already spirited away by the smugglers. Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear!" he exclaimed, and, jumping up, ran out as if to look for them.

Juno and Clump were, it seemed, very much alarmed, both rolling their large eyes round and round till they grew bigger and bigger. Certain noises outside increased the terror of the two poor souls, but I knew that they indicated impatience on the part of my companions.

Accordingly, exclaiming that I would bear it no longer, I too jumped up, and ran after Drake. As neither of us returned, it was but natural that Juno and Clump should have supposed that we had been carried off by the smugglers. There the two poor souls sat, s.h.i.+vering and trembling with alarm, not daring to go out, for fear of finding their worst antic.i.p.ations realised. At last, Clump--who was really a brave fellow at heart, though just then overtaken by a nervous fit--got up, and, taking his old gun from over the mantelpiece, prepared to load it.

Several pair of sharp eyes had been watching proceedings from outside.

Now was the moment for action. Led by Walter, in we rushed, and then advanced with threatening gestures towards the old couple. We were afraid of uttering any sound, lest the well-known tones of our voices should have betrayed us. Juno was at first the most alarmed. She did not scream or shriek, however, but, falling on her knees, appeared as if she was thus resolved to meet her death. Poor old Clump meantime stood gazing at us with an almost idiotic stare, till Walter, advancing, gave him a slap on the back, sufficient, it must be owned, to rouse him up.

At first, the blow adding to his overwhelming terror, he rolled over, a mere bundle of blackness, into the wood-box, nothing being visible to us but two long quivering feet and five black fingers. But in a moment after, with his still unloaded gun in his hand, he sprang up like a madman, jumped over the table, and, not trying to open the door, burst through the window, smas.h.i.+ng half a dozen panes of gla.s.s.

Who should open the door just then and come in, as Clump demolished the window and went out, but Captain Mugford! Having left Mr Clare enjoying a nap on a sofa in the brig, he had come up to the house, and, hearing the frightful noises in the kitchen, rushed in there. So much was he prepared by the yells that escaped for some tragic scene of scalding or other accident, that it required two or three minutes before he could take in the meaning of the commotion. But when he recognised in the fierce smugglers a party of his young friends, and when he beheld Juno's situation, and the shattered frame through which Clump had struggled, he took the joke, and broke into the most elephantine convulsions of laughter that I ever heard or witnessed. For half a minute, at least, he shook and shook internally, and then exploded. An explosion was no sooner finished than the internal spasm recommenced, and so he went on until I really feared he might injure himself. After five minutes of such attack, he managed to draw out his bandanna and cover his face with it, and then, whilst we watched his figure shaking and quivering, we heard, like groans, from beneath the handkerchief, "Oh ur-rh-ha--ar--uh! Bless me!" When he took down his handkerchief and happened to see Juno rising from her knees, he swelled up again like a balloon, and then eased off gradually in splutterings and moans as a dying porpoise. After which, he went and pacified Juno, and tried to explain to her what a wicked trick we had been guilty of, and that the band of smugglers, after all, were only the boys she knew so well, and he proceeded to disrobe us, one by one, so that the old woman might comprehend the joke. And so she did, but she sat motionless for a time, until some portion of her usual composure returned; and then she got up with many a sigh and mutterings of "Ki! ki! tink dat's wicked--frite ole Juno so--oh Lor!" but before tea was served, I heard her chuckling slyly, and turning towards us again and again as she poured the hot milk on the toast she was dis.h.i.+ng up. We meantime were employed in peeling, and by degrees got restored to our usual appearance, and we then hurried up to our rooms to wash off the rouge and the marks of burnt cork with which our faces were covered. But the Captain sat down and shook quietly for a long while, the tears rolling down his face, and his fingers opening and closing convulsively on the handkerchief. And when tea was quite ready, he went off to hunt up Clump.

Mr Clare came in soon after, but we had, by that time, got the better of the fun, and removed all traces of the commotion. When the Captain joined us at the table, he had another laughing spasm before he could say or eat anything; but for the remainder of the evening he controlled himself pretty well, only breaking out about half a dozen times, and blowing his nose until it was very red and swollen. However, Mr Clare never heard of the way the poor negroes had been frightened by a practical joke, a thing he particularly disliked and had often spoken against.

CHAPTER NINETEEN.

LAST DAYS ON THE CAPE--A TERRIBLE NIGHT.

And now, the time of our stay on the cape was drawing to a close. Only three days more remained, and they were to be occupied in collecting our books, packing trunks, and all the unpleasant little duties that become so tedious and dispiriting when, like a drop curtain, they announce the end of the play.

Perhaps if the days of our cape life had been prolonged, we should have regretted the detention from home, and yearned for our dear parents, looking on the cape, that had already lost some of its attractions, as soon to become a dreary point beaten by winter winds and seas and drifted across by the snow. But because we _must_ go, therefore it was hard to go. What cannot be done, cannot be had, cannot be reached--that is just what the boy wants. As we could not yet actually realise the desolateness and barrenness of winter there, but only remember the delights and beauties of summer and autumn, we lost cheerfulness over the boxes and trunks, and sighed because of the brick walls, narrow streets, and toilsome school-work that were soon to bound our lives.

On a Wednesday we had been for our last afternoon's shooting on the moor. Our tutors had walked round to return their guns to the lenders over in the town. We strolled to the house through the fast fading afternoon light, talking of the memorable events in our half-year just closing.

"Now, I think," said Drake, "that our boat-race was the best fun of all."

"I don't," Alf answered, "though we had a good time then, I know; but what is there to compare with the cruise and s.h.i.+pwreck?--the excitement lasted so long and came out all right."

"Yes, it came out all right, but there was only a tight squeak that it did not go all wrong. I tell you what, fellows, I was horribly frightened that night, before we struck on Boatswain's Reef," said Harry.

Each of us but Walter added, "So was I."

"Walter, now you were frightened, too. Own now!" continued Harry.

"No, I was not, really!" answered Walter. "Somehow I never feel afraid on the water; and I think it must be because I was born at sea, you know, when our father and mother were returning from the West Indies.

Now if I had been behind a pair of runaway horses, instead of aboard a good boat, I might have got shaky, I daresay."

"Well, my opinion is," said I, "that just the best time of all was finding the smugglers' cave; but I am afraid that, after we are gone, they may come down hard on Clump and Juno, and when we have--"

Walter interrupted me with "Nonsense, those fellows will know enough to keep hid or give the cape a wide berth after this. But talking about the good times we have had, I have enjoyed our shooting best of all, and so has Ugly, I'll bet--haven't you, Ugly?"

To which our bright little dog answered as well as he could by barking an a.s.sent, and jumping before us to wag his tail energetically.

"Hallo!" Harry exclaimed, stopping, as he spoke, to look off to sea; "there's a rakish-looking lugger--don't you see?--just there, to the south-east, near Ba.s.s Rocks. I wonder what she is after."

"After?" answered Drake, "why, probably running down to Penzance."

"I don't know about that," said Harry, who continued to watch the vessel with much interest; "it looks to me as if she were running close in, to anchor."

"Well, let her anchor if she likes. There's nothing strange in that, when there's not wind enough to fly a feather;" and after a few moments more, in which we resumed our way to the house, Drake continued--

"Haven't our tutors proved splendid fellows? I think the Captain is the finest old chap that I ever came across; and when Mr Clare is a clergyman I should like to go to his church--shouldn't feel a bit like going to sleep then."

To which we all gave a cordial a.s.sent, and, having reached the house, turned in there with the prospect of having some fun with Clump and Juno before our tutors should return. I stood at the door a few minutes.

Sure enough Harry was right. Though it was too dark now to distinguish anything more than a hundred yards away, I heard the running out of a cable and then the lowering of the sails. "An odd place to anchor for the night," thought I, and so did Ugly, who was beside me, for he gave a low, uneasy howl.

Juno was laying the plates for tea, as I went in. After teasing her for awhile I joined the other boys. Soon Juno came out to the kitchen, and when she commenced to fry the hasty-pudding, we induced Clump to tell us some of his sea adventures, in the middle of which Ugly set up a furious barking, and a moment afterwards there came a heavy rap at the front door. It was the first time there had been a knock at a door of our old house since we had been in it.

Clump, leaving his story unfinished, took a candle, and Drake and I followed him into the dining-room, which he had to cross to get to the front door. But by the time we had entered the dining-room a stranger had walked into the hall, and had also proceeded to open the door opposite us. Ugly, who was greatly incensed, jumped forward and took hold of a leg of the stranger's trousers.

Our visitor was a small, rough, ugly man, with a terrible squint in his eyes and a voice as unpleasant as his face. He had no collar, only a handkerchief about his neck, and wore a large, s.h.a.ggy flus.h.i.+ng jacket.

His first act was to kick Ugly halfway across the room, with the salutation: "Take that, you d.a.m.ned cur, for your manners, d.a.m.n you!"

Ugly made at him again fiercer than ever, but I caught him in time and held him.

"Wat will you 'ab, sir?" asked Clump in a dignified voice.

"What will I have, ay? I'll have that cur's life if he comes at me agin, and I want to know, old n.i.g.g.e.r, if,"--here the rough customer spit some tobacco-juice on the floor--"I want to know if you kin 'commodate four or five gents for the night, ay?"

All of Clump's spirit was aroused, and he stammered as he replied--

"No, mon; n-o-o-o! We dussen keeps no ho-o-o--hotel 'ere, we dussen.

You'se find tabben ober end de town. Dis am Ma.s.sa Tre-gel--Tre-gel-- Ma.s.sa Tregellin's privet mansion."

"Ho! ho!" answered the man, slapping his hat down on his head and spitting again. "_Ma.s.sa_ Tregellin's house, is it? Look here, boys, you just tell your dad, when you see him, that he has got a foolish, consequential n.i.g.g.e.r and a mean, tumbledown affair of a hut, if it can't 'commodate some poor sailors. Howsumever, I'll go back to my lugger, and bad luck to your _mansion_! Old nig, look 'er here--perhaps we'll see each other again." He looked slowly all round the room, and went out, slamming the doors after him.

Fifteen minutes afterwards our tutors came in, and when they heard of our visitor Captain Mugford waxed wroth.

"I wish I had been here," he exclaimed; "if I wouldn't have put that scoundrel off soundings in about half a splice! The impudent fellow, to attempt to lord it in that style in a gentleman's house. What do you think of it, Mr Clare, eh?"

"Oh, not much, Captain Mugford. The man was probably tipsy, and was of course a bully, or he would never have talked so before boys and a poor old negro. I am glad neither Walter nor Harry was in the room."

"So am I, sir," said Walter; "we were in the kitchen and came in when we heard the loud talking, just as the man slammed the doors in going out.

We could have done nothing more than order him out."

After tea we boys went into the kitchen again, leaving our tutors playing at chess, which Mr Clare was trying to teach Captain Mugford.

That kitchen was a favourite resort of ours in the evenings, and Clump and Juno liked to have us there. There was a famous fire--three or four fresh logs singing over a red ma.s.s of coal; plenty of ashes; and a whistled tune with a jet of smoke right from the heart of each stick.

The bra.s.s fire-dogs were extra bright, reflecting the blaze on all sides. Some chestnuts and potatoes were roasting in the ashes, and Clump had provided some cider to treat us to, this last night of ours on the cape. So we pulled our chairs close around the fire, Clump sitting at one end, almost inside the chimney-place, smoking his pipe, and Juno at the other end, also almost inside the chimney-place, and smoking, too, her pipe. Hi! How they grinned, and chatted, and smoked. After awhile, when we had had a full hour of real fun, quizzing the old folks, telling stories, eating chestnuts and potatoes, drinking cider, and listening to stories of the West Indies, Walter and Harry got up to clean their guns.

"Wen you'se c.u.m 'ere nudder time, 'spect dese ole black folks be gwine 'way--be gwine 'crost de ribber Jordan?"--exclaimed Juno, with a long sigh.

"Now, don't talk in that way," said Harry; "why, marm Juno, you and Clump will live to dance at my wedding; see if you don't; and now, Juno, just give us a kettle of hot water, will you, to rinse out these gun-barrels with."

When the guns were washed, dried, and rubbed off with oil, I said to Clump, "Have you got any bullets or buckshot?"

"Don't know, Ma.s.sa Bob--'spects so, en my ole tool-box."

"Why," asked Drake, "what are you going to do, Bob, with bullets and buckshot?"