In the Roar of the Sea Part 74

"I reckon it wouldn't be amiss, mate," responded Wyvill. To Oliver's astonishment and annoyance, the boat was turned to run across to a little tavern, at what was called "The Rock."

He remonstrated. This was injudicious and unnecessary.

"Onnecessary," said Wyvill. "Why, you don't suppose fire-arms will go off wi'out a charge? It's the same wi' men. What's the good of a human being unless he be loaded--and what's his proper load but a drop o'

spirits."

Then one of the rowers sang out:

"Water-drinkers are dull a.s.ses When they're met together.

Milk is meat for infancy; Ladies like to sip Bohea; Not such stuff for you and me, When we're met together."

Oliver was not surprised that so few captures were effected on the coast, when those set to watch it loved so dearly the very goods they were to watch against being imported untaxed.

On reaching the sh.o.r.e, the man Samson and another were left in charge of the boat, while Wyvill, Will, and the rest went up to the Rock Inn to have a gla.s.s for the good of the house, and to lade themselves with an anker of brandy which, during their wait in the cave, was to be distributed among them. Oliver thought it well to go to the tavern as well. He was impatient and thought they would dawdle there, and, perhaps, take more than the nip to which they professed themselves content to limit themselves. Pentyre Point had to be rounded in rough water, and they must be primed to enable them to round Pentyre.

"You see," said Wyvill, who seemed to suppose that some sort of an explanation of his conduct was due. "When ropes be dry they be terrible slack. Wet 'em and they are taut. It is the same wi' men's muscles. We've Pentyre Point to get round. Very strainin' to the arms, and I reckon it couldn't be done unless we wetted the muscles. That's reason. That's convincin'."

At the Rock Tavern the Preventive men found the clerk of S. Enodoc, with his hands in his pockets, on the settle, his legs stretched out before him, considering one of his knees that was threadbare, and trying to make up his mind whether the trouser would hold out another day without a thread being run through the thin portion, and whether if a day, then perhaps two days, and if perchance for two days, then for three. But if for three, then why not for four! And if for four, then possibly for five--anyhow, as far as he could judge, there was no immediate call for him to have the right knee of his trouser repaired that day.

The s.e.xton-clerk looked up when the party entered, and greeted them each man by name, and a conversation ensued relative to the weather.

Each described his own impressions as to what the weather had been, and his antic.i.p.ations as to what it would be.

"And how's your missus?"

"Middlin'--and yours?"

"Same, thanky'. A little troubled wi' the rheumatics."

"Tell her to take a lump o' sugar wi' five drops o' turpentine."

"I will, thanky"--and so on for half an hour, at the end of which time the party thought it time to rise, wipe their mouths, shoulder the anker, and return to the boat.

No sooner were they in it, and had thrust off from sh.o.r.e, and prepared to make a second start, than Oliver touched Wyvill and said, pointing to the land, "Look yonder."

"What!"

"There is that clerk. Running, actually running."

"I reckon he be."

"And in the direction of Pentyre."

"So he be, I reckon."

"And what do you think of that?"

"Nothing," answered Wyvill, confusedly. "Why should I? He can't say nothing about where we be going. Not a word of that was said while us was there. I don't put no store on his running."

"I do," said Oliver, unable to smother his annoyance. "This folly will spoil our game."

Wyvill muttered, "I reckon I'm head of the consarn and not you."

Oliver deemed it advisable, as the words were said low, to pretend that he did not hear them.

The wind had somewhat abated, but the sea was running furiously round Pentyre. Happily the tide was going out, so that tide and wind were conflicting, and this enabled the rowers to get round Pentyre between the Point and the Newland Isle, that broke the force of the seas. But when past the shelter of Newland, doubling a spur of Pentyre that ran to the north, the rowers had to use their utmost endeavors, and had not their muscles been moistened they might possibly have declared it impossible to proceed. It was advisable to run into the cove just after dark, and before the turn of the tide, as, in the event of the Black Prince attempting to land her cargo there, it would be made with the flow of the tide, and in the darkness.

The cove was reached and found to be deserted. Oliver showed the way, and the boat was driven up on the s.h.i.+ngle and conveyed into the smugglers' cave behind the rock curtain. No one was there. Evidently, from the preparations made, the smugglers were ready for the run of the cargo that night.

"Now," said Will, one of the Preventive men, "us hev' a' labored uncommon. What say you, mates? Does us desarve a drop of refreshment or does us not? Every man as does his dooty by his country and his king should be paid for 't, is my doctrine. What do y' say, Gearge?

Sarve out the grog?"

"I reckon yes. Sarve out the grog. There's nothing like grog--I think it was Solomon said that, and he was the wisest of men."

"For sure; he made a song about it," said one of the coast-guard. "It begins:

"'A plague of those musty old lubbers, Who tell us to fast and to think.

And patient fall in with life's rubbers, With nothing but water to drink.'"

"To be sure," responded Wyvill, "never was a truer word said than when Solomon was called the wisest o' men."

CHAPTER L.

PLAYING FORFEITS.

"Here am I once more," said Mr. Scantlebray, walking into Oth.e.l.lo Cottage with a rap at the door but without waiting for an invitation to enter. "Come back like the golden summer, but at a quicker rate.

How are you all? I left you rather curtly--without having had time to pay my proper _conge_."

Judith and Jamie were sitting over the fire. No candle had been lighted, for, though a good many things had been brought over to Oth.e.l.lo Cottage for their use, candles had been forgotten, and Judith did not desire to ask for more than was furnished her, certainly not to go to the Glaze for the things needed. They had a fire, but not one that blazed. It was of drift-wood, that smouldered and would not flame, and as it burned emitted a peculiar odor.

Jamie was in good spirits, he chattered and laughed, and Judith made pretence that she listened, but her mind was absent, she had cares that had demands on every faculty of her mind. Moreover, now and then her thoughts drifted off to a picture that busy fancy painted and dangled before them--of Portugal, with its woods of oranges, golden among the burnished leaves, and its vines hung with purple grapes--with its glowing sun, its blue glittering sea--and, above all, she mused on the rest from fears, the cessation from troubles which would have ensued, had there been a chance for her to accept the offer made, and to have left the Cornish coast for ever.

Looking into the glowing ashes, listening to her thoughts as they spoke, and seeming to attend to the prattle of the boy, Judith was surprised by the entry of Mr. Scantlebray.

"There--disengaged, that is capital," said the agent. "The very thing I hoped. And now we can have a talk. You have never understood that I was your sincere friend. You have turned from me and looked elsewhere, and now you suffer for it. But I am like all the best metal--strong and bright to the last; and see--I have come to you now to forewarn you, because I thought that if it came on you all at once there would be trouble and bother."

"Thank you, Mr. Scantlebray. It is true that we are not busy just now, but it does not follow that we are disposed for a talk. It is growing dark, and we shall lock up the cottage and go to bed."

"Oh, I will not detain you long. Besides I'll take the wish out of your heart for bed in one jiffy. Look here--read this. Do you know the handwriting?"

He held out a letter. Judith reluctantly took it. She had risen; she had not asked Scantlebray to take a seat.

"Yes," she said, "that is the writing of Captain Coppinger."

"A good bold hand," said the agent, "and see here is his seal with his motto, _Thorough_. You know that?"