Deep Down, a Tale of the Cornish Mines Part 24

To the left of this scene (and ignorant of it, for the stage was so large, the actors were so numerous, and the play so grand, that few could do more than attend to their own part) a cripple might be seen with a crutch hopping actively about. He was a young man; had lost his leg, by an accident probably, and was looking about for a cast-away fish for his own supper. He soon found one. Whether it was that one had been dropped accidentally, or that some generous-hearted fish-dealer had dropped one on purpose, we cannot tell, but he did get one--a large fat one, too--and hobbled away as quickly as he could, evidently rejoicing.

The cripple was not the only one who crossed the stage thus lightly burdened. There were several halt and maimed, and some blind and aged ones there, whose desires in regard to piscatorial wealth extended only to one, or perhaps two, and they all got what they wanted. That was sufficient for the evening's supper--for the morrow there was no need to care; they could return to get a fresh supply evening after evening for many a day to come, for it was a splendid mackerel season--such as had not been for many years--so said the sages of the village.

There were other groups, and other incidents that would have drawn laughter as well as tears from sympathetic hearts, but we must forbear.

The play was long of being acted out--it was no common play; besides, it is time for _our_ actors to come upon the stage themselves.

"I see old Hitchin," exclaimed Oliver Trembath, starting suddenly out of a reverie, and pointing into the thickest of the crowd.

"How can you tell? you don't know him," said his companion.

"Know him! Of course I do; who could fail to know him after the graphic description the lawyer gave of him? See--look yonder, beside the cart with the big man in it arranging baskets. D'you see?"

"Which? the one painted green, and a scraggy horse with a bag hanging to its nose?"

"No, no; a little further to the left, man--the one with the broken rail and the high-spirited horse. There, there he is! a thin, dried-up, wrinkled, old shabby--"

"Ah! that's the man," exclaimed Tregarthen, laughing. "Come along, and let's try to keep our eyes on him, for there is nothing so difficult as finding any one in a crowd."

The difficulty referred to was speedily ill.u.s.trated by the fact that the two friends threaded their way to the spot where the cart had stood, and found not only that it was gone, but that Hitchin had also moved away, and although they pushed through the crowd for more than a quarter of an hour they failed to find him.

As they were wandering about thus, they observed a very tall broad-shouldered man talking earnestly in undertones to a sailor-like fellow who was still broader across the shoulders, but not quite so tall. It is probable that Oliver would have paid no attention to them, had not the name of Hitchin struck his ear. Glancing round at the men he observed that the taller of the two was Joe Tonkin, and the other his friend of the Land's End, the famous Jim Cuttance.

Oliver plucked his companion by the sleeve, and whispered him to stand still. Only a few words and phrases reached them, but these were sufficient to create surprise and arouse suspicion. Once, in particular, Tonkin, who appeared to be losing his temper, raised his voice a little, exclaiming,--"I tell 'ee what it is, Cuttance, I do knaw what you're up to, an' I'll hinder 'ee ef I can."

The man confirmed this statement with a savage oath, to which Cuttance replied in kind; nevertheless he was evidently anxious to conciliate his companion, and spoke so low as to be nearly inaudible.

Only the words, "Not to-night; I won't do it to-night," reached the ears of the listeners.

At this point Tonkin turned from the smuggler with a fling, muttering in an undertone as he went, "I don't b'lieve 'ee, Cuttance, for thee'rt a liard, so I'll watch 'ee, booy."

Oliver was about to follow Tonkin, when he observed Hitchin himself slowly wending his way through the crowd. He had evidently heard nothing of the conversation that appeared to have reference to himself, for he sauntered along with a careless air, and his hands in his pockets, as though he were an uninterested spectator of the busy scene.

Oliver at once accosted him, "Pray, sir, is your name Hitchin?"

"It is," replied the old man, eyeing his interrogator suspiciously.

"Allow me to introduce myself, sir--Oliver Trembath, nephew to Mr Thomas Donnithorne of St. Just."

Mr Hitchin held out his hand, and said that he was happy to meet with a nephew of his old friend, in the tone of a man who would much rather not meet either nephew or uncle.

Oliver felt this, so he put on his most insinuating air, and requested Mr Hitchin to walk with him a little aside from the crowd, as he had something of a private nature to say to him. The old man agreed, and the two walked slowly along the sands to the outskirts of the crowd, where young Tregarthen discreetly left them.

The moment Oliver broached the subject of the advance of money, Hitchin frowned, and the colour in his face betrayed suppressed anger.

"Sir," said he, "I know all that you would say to me. It has already been said oftener than there is any occasion for. No one appears to believe me when I a.s.sert that I have met with heavy losses of late, and have no cash to spare--not even enough to pay my debts."

"Indeed, sir," replied Oliver, "I regret to hear you say so, and I can only apologise for having troubled you on the subject. I a.s.sure you nothing would have induced me to do so but regard for my uncle, to whom the continuance of this mine for some time would appear to be a matter of considerable importance; but since you will not--"

"_Wilt_ not!" interrupted Hitchin angrily, "have I not said _can not_?

I tell you, young man, that there is a scoundrel to whom I owe a large sum for--for--well, no matter what it's for, but the blackguard threatens that if I don't--pshaw!--"

The old man seemed unable to contain himself at this point, for he turned angrily away from Oliver, and, hastening back towards the town, was soon lost again in the crowd.

Oliver was so taken by surprise, that he stood still gazing dreamily at the point where Hitchin had disappeared, until he was roused by a touch on the shoulder from Charlie Tregarthen.

"Well," said he, smiling, "how fares your suit?"

Oliver replied by a burst of laughter.

"How fares my suit?" he repeated; "badly, very badly indeed; why, the old fellow's monkey got up the moment I broached the subject, and I was just in the middle of what I meant to be a most conciliating speech, when he flung off as you have seen."

"Odd, very odd," said Tregarthen, "to see how some men cling to their money, as if it were their life. After all, it _is_ life to some--at least all the life they have got."

"Come now, don't moralise, Charlie, for we must act just now."

"I'm ready to act in any way you propose, Oliver; what do you intend to do? Issue your commands, and I'll obey. Shall we attack the village of Newlyn single-handed, and set fire to it, as did the Spaniards of old, or shall we swim off to the fleet of boats, cut the cables, bind the men in charge, and set sail for the mackerel fis.h.i.+ng?"

"Neither, my chum, and especially not the latter, seeing that a thundercloud is about to break over the sea ere long, if I do not greatly misjudge appearances in the sky; but, man, we must see this testy old fellow again, and warn him of the danger which threatens him.

I feel a.s.sured that that rascal Cuttance means him harm, for he let something fall in his anger, which, coupled with what we have already heard from the smuggler himself, and from Tonkin, convinces me that evil is in the wind. Now the question is, how are we to find him, for searching in that crowd is almost useless?"

"Let us go to his house," suggested Tregarthen, "and if he is not at home, wait for him."

"Do you know where his house is?"

"No, not I."

"Then we must inquire, so come along."

Pus.h.i.+ng once more through the throng of busy men and women, the friends ascended the sloping causeway that led to the village, and here asked the first man they met where Mr Hitchin lived.

"Right over top o' hill," replied the man.

"Thank you. That'll do, Charlie, come along," said Oliver, turning into one of the narrow pa.s.sages that diverged from the main street of Newlyn, and ascending the hill with giant strides; "one should never be particular in their inquiries after a place. When I'm told to turn to the right after the second turning to the left, and that if I go right on till I come to some other turning, that will conduct me point blank to the street that enters the square near to which lies the spot I wish to reach, I'm apt to get confused. Get a general direction if possible, the position indicated by compa.s.s is almost enough, and _ask again_.

That's my plan, and I never found it fail."

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.

IN WHICH IS RECORDED A VISIT TO AN INFANT-SCHOOL; A WARNING TO A THANKLESS OLD GENTLEMAN; ALSO A STORM, AND A SUDDEN AS WELL AS SURPRISING END OF A MINE, BESIDES DARK DESIGNS.

Oliver Trembath's plan of "asking again" had to be put in practice sooner than had been antic.i.p.ated, for the back alleys and lanes of Newlyn were a little perplexing to a stranger.

"Let us inquire here," said Tregarthen, seeing the half-open door of a very small cottage, with part of a woman's back visible in the interior.

"By all means," said Oliver, pus.h.i.+ng open the door and stooping low as he entered.

The visitors were instantly transfixed by thirty pair of eyes--all of them bright blue, or bright black--few of them elevated much more than two feet from the ground, and not one of them dimmed by the smallest approach to a wink. Nay, on the contrary, they all opened so wide when the strangers entered that it seemed as if either winking or shutting were in future out of the question, and that to sleep with eyes wide open was the sad prospect of the owners thereof in all time coming.