We will follow Nancy Corbett for the present. Nancy gained the summit
of the cliff, and, panting for breath, looked round to ascertain if
there was any one in sight, but the coast was clear: she waited a minute
to recover herself a little, and then set off at a brisk pace in the
direction of the hamlet of Ryde, which then consisted of a few
fishermen's huts. It was an hour and a half before she gained this
place, from whence she took a boat, and was safely landed at the Point.
The fisherman who brought her over was an old acquaintance of Nancy's,
and knew that he would have to remain to take her back, but he was well
paid for his trouble, and it was a lucky day for him when Nancy required
his services. The Yungfrau had rounded St. Helen's, and was standing
into Spithead, when Nancy landed, and the first door at which she
knocked was at the lodgings of Moggy Salisbury, with whom she was well
acquainted, and from whom she expected to be able to gain information.
On inquiry, she found that Moggy had not come on shore from the cutter,
which had sailed during the night very unexpectedly.
This information pleased Nancy, as Moggy would in all probability be
able to give her important information, and she took up her quarters in
Moggy's apartments, anxiously awaiting her arrival, for Nancy was not at
all desirous to be seen. In due time the cutter was again anchored in
the harbour, and the first order of Mr Vanslyperken's was, that Moggy
Salisbury should be sent on shore, which order was complied with, and
she left the vessel, vowing vengeance upon the lieutenant and his dog.
The informer also hastened into a boat, and pulled on shore on the
Gosport side, with a very significant farewell look at Mr Vanslyperken.
Moggy landed, and hastened, full of wrath, to her own lodgings, where
she found Nancy Corbett waiting for her. At first she was too full of
her own injuries and the attempt to flog her dear, darling Jemmy to
allow Nancy to put in a word. Nancy perceived this, and allowed her to
run herself down like a clock; and then proposed that they should send
for some purl and have a cozy chat, to which Moggy agreed; and as soon
as they were fairly settled, and Moggy had again delivered herself of
her grievances, Nancy put the requisite questions, and discovered what
the reader is already acquainted with. She requested and obtained a
full description of the informer, and his person was too remarkable for
Nancy not to recognise immediately who it was.
"The villain!" cried she; "why if there was any man in whom we thought
we could trust, it was--him;" for Nancy had, in her indignation, nearly
pronounced his name.
"Nancy," said Moggy, "you have to do with the smugglers, I know, for
your husband is one of them, if report says true. Now, I've been
thinking, that the cutter is no place for my Jemmy, and that with this
peak-nosed villain he will always be in trouble. Tell me, will they let
him in, if he volunteers?"
"I can't exactly say, Moggy; but this I can tell you, that you may be
very useful to them in giving us information, which you may gain through
your husband."
"Ay, and not only through my husband, but from every body on board the
cutter. I'm yours, Nancy--and here's my hand on it--you'll see what I
can do. The wagabond, to attempt to flog my own dear, darling duck--my
own Jemmy. Only tell me what you want to know, and if I don't ferret it
out, my name's not Moggy. But hear me, Nancy; I join you now hand and
heart, though I gain nothing by it: and when you choose to have him,
I'll bring you my little duck of a husband, and he will be worth his
weight in gold, though I say it that shouldn't say it."
"Thanky, Moggy; but you shall not work for nothing;" and Nancy laid a
gold Jacobus on the table. "This for your present information. Be
secret and cautious, and no gossiping, and you'll find that you shall
have all you wish, and be no loser in the bargain. And now, good
night--I must be away. You shall see me soon, Moggy; and remember what
I have told you."
Moggy was astonished at the sight of the gold Jacobus, which she took up
and examined as Nancy departed. "Well," thought she, "but this
smuggling must be a pretty consarn; and as sure as gold is gold, my
Jemmy shall be a smuggler."
Nancy turned down the street, and passed rapidly on, until she was clear
of the fortifications, in the direction of South Sea Beach. A few
scattered cottages were at that time built upon the spot. It was quite
dark as she passed the lines, and held her way over the shingle. A man
was standing alone, whose figure she recognised. It was the very person
that she wished to find. Nancy watched him for awhile, and observed him
pull out a paper, tear it in two, and throw it down with gesticulations
of anger and indignation. She then approached.
"What's o'clock?" said Nancy.
"Do you want the right time?" replied the man.
"To a minute," replied Nancy, who, finding that the password was given
correctly, now stopped, and faced the other party. "Is that you,
Cornbury?"
"Yes, Nancy," replied the man, who was the same person who went on board
of the cutter to give the information.
"I have been seeking you," replied Nancy. "There has been some
information laid, and the boats were nearly surprised. Alice desires
that you will find out what boats entered the cove, whom they belonged
to, and, if possible, how they obtained the information."
"Boats nearly surprised!--you don't say so," replied Cornbury, with
affected astonishment. "This must indeed be looked to. Have you no
idea--"
"None," replied Nancy. "There was no vessel to be seen the next
morning--the fog was too thick. Have you seen Wahop?"
"No; I thought he was on the Isle."
"He ought to have been, but has not come; I have been at the oak-tree
for three nights running. It's very strange. Do you think that he can
have played false?"
"I never much liked the man," replied Cornbury.
"Nor I either," replied Nancy; "but I must go now, for I must be back at
the crags before daylight. Find out what you can, and let us know as
soon as possible. I shall be over again as soon as the cargo is run; if
you find out anything, you had better come to-morrow night."
"I will," replied Cornbury; and the parties separated.
"Traitor!" muttered Nancy, when she was once more alone. "If he comes,
it shall be to his death;" and Nancy stooped down, picked up the pieces
of paper which Cornbury had torn up, and put them in the basket she
carried on her arm.
It will be observed, that Nancy had purposely thrown out hints against
Wahop, to induce Cornbury to believe that he was not suspected. Her
assertion that Wahop was not on the island was false. He had been three
days at Ryde, according to the arrangement. The bait took. Cornbury
perceiving that the suspicion was against Wahop, thought that he could
not do better than to boldly make his appearance at the cave, which
would remove any doubts as to his own fidelity.
Nancy hastened down to the Point, and returned that night to Ryde, from
whence she walked over to the cave, and was there before daylight. She
communicated to Alice the intelligence which she had received from Moggy
Salisbury, and the arrangements she had proposed to her, by which the
motions of the cutter could be known.
"Is that woman to be trusted, think you, Nancy?" inquired Alice.
"Yes, I believe sincerely she may be. I have known her long; and she
wishes her husband to join us."
"We must reflect upon it. She may be most useful. What is the
character of the officer who commands the vessel?"
"A miser and a coward. He is well known--neither honour nor conscience
in him."
"The first is well, as we may act upon it, but the second renders him
doubtful. You are tired, Nancy, and had better lie down a little."
Nancy Corbett delivered the pens to Lilly and then took the advice of
her superior. The day was remarkably fine, and the water smooth, so
that the boats were expected that night. At dusk two small lights, at
even distances, were suspended from the cliff, to point out to the boats
that the coast was free, and that they might land. Alice, however, took
the precaution to have a watch on the beach, in case of any second
surprise being attempted; but of this there was little fear, as she knew
from Nancy that all the cutter's boats were on board when she entered
the harbour. Lilly, who thought it a delight to be one moment sooner in
her father's arms, had taken the watch on the beach, and there the
little girl remained perched upon a rock, at the foot of which the waves
now only sullenly washed, for the night was beautifully calm and clear.
To a passer on the ocean she might have been mistaken for a mermaid who
had left her watery bower to look upon the world above.
What were the thoughts of the little maiden as she remained there fixed
as a statue? Did she revert to the period at which her infant memory
could retrace silken hangings and marble halls, visions of splendour,
dreamings of courtly state, or was she thinking of her father, as her
quick ear caught the least swell of the increasing breeze? Was she, as
her eye was fixed as if attempting to pierce the depths of the ocean,
wondering at what might be its hidden secrets, or as they were turned
towards the heavens, bespangled with ten thousand stars, was she
meditating on the God who placed them there? Who can say?--but that
that intellectual face bespoke the mind at work is certain, and from one
so pure and lovely could emanate nothing but what was innocent and good.
But a distant sound falls upon her ear; she listens, and by its measured
cadence knows that it is the rowers in a boat: nearer it comes and more
distinct, and now her keen eye detects the black mass approaching in the
gloom of night. She starts from the rock ready to fly up to the cave to
give notice of an enemy, or, if their anticipated friends, to fly into
the arms of her father. But her alarm is over, she perceives that it is
the lugger, the boat dashes into the cove, and the first who lands
strains her to his bosom.
"My dearest Lilly, is all well?"
"Yes, all is well, father; but you are well come."
"Run up, dearest, and let the women be ready to assist. We have that
here which must soon be out of sight. Is the Father Innis here?"
"Since Thursday last."
"'Tis well, dear; you may go. Quick, my lads, and beach the cargo:--see
to it, Ramsay; I must at once unto the cave." Having given these
directions, the father of Lilly commenced his ascent over the rough and
steep rocks which led up to the cavern, anxious to obtain what
information could be imparted relative to the treachery which had led to
their narrow escape two nights preceding.
He was met by Alice, who cordially embraced him; but he appeared anxious
to release himself from her endearments, that he might at once enter
upon matters to him of more serious importance. "Where is the Father
Innis, my dear?" said he, disengaging himself from her arms.
"He sleeps, Robert, or, at least, he did just now, but probably he will
rise now that you are come. But in the meantime, I have discovered who
the traitor is."
"By all the saints, he shall not escape my vengeance!"
Alice then entered into the particulars related by Nancy Corbett, and
already known to the reader. She had just concluded when Father Innis
made his appearance from the cave.
"Welcome, thrice welcome, holy father."
"Welcome, too, my son. Say, do we start to-night?"
"Not till to-morrow night," replied the husband of Alice, who having
ascertained that, in all probability, Cornbury would come that night,
determined, at all risks, to get possession of him; "we could well be
over before daylight, and with your precious person I must not risk too
much. You are anxiously expected."
"And I have important news," replied the priest; "but I will not detain
you now; I perceive that your presence is wanted by your men."
During this colloquy the women had descended the ladder, and had been
assisting the men to carry up the various packages of which the boat's
cargo consisted, and they now awaited directions as to the stowing away.
"Ramsay," said the leader, "we do not return to-night: take the men, and
contrive to lift the boat up on the rocks, so that she may not be
injured."
An hour elapsed before this was effected, and then the leader, as well
as the rest of the smugglers, retired to the cave to refresh themselves
with sleep after their night of fatigue. As usual, one woman kept
watch, and that woman was Nancy Corbett. The ladder had been hauled up,
and she was walking up and down, with her arms under a shawl, to a sort
of stamping trot, for the weather was frosty, when she heard a low
whistle at the west side of the flat.
"Oh, ho! have I lured you, you traitorous villain?" muttered Nancy; "you
come in good time;" and Nancy walked to the spot where the ladder was
usually lowered down, and looked over. Although the moon had risen, it
was too dark on that side of the platform to distinguish more than that
there was a human form, who repeated the whistle.
"What's o'clock?" said Nancy, in a low tone.
"Do you want the right time to a minute?" replied a voice, which was
recognised as Cornbury's. Nancy lowered down the ladder, and Cornbury
ascended the platform.
"I am glad you are come, Cornbury. Have you heard anything of Wahop?"
"No one has seen or heard of him," replied the man, "but I have found
out what boats they were. Did the lugger come over to-night?"
"Yes," replied Nancy, "but I must go in and let Mistress Alice know that
you are here."
Nancy's abrupt departure was to prevent Cornbury from asking if the boat
had remained, or returned to the French coast; for she thought it not
impossible that the unusual circumstance of the boat remaining might
induce him to suppose that his treachery had been discovered, and to
make his immediate escape, which he, of course, could have done, and
given full information of the cave and the parties who frequented it.
Nancy soon reappeared, and familiarly taking the arm of Cornbury, led
him to the eastern side of the platform, asking him many questions. As
soon as he was there, the leader of the gang, followed by half-a-dozen
of his men, rushed out and secured him. Cornbury now felt assured that
all was discovered, and that his life was forfeited. "Bind him fast,"
said the leader, "and keep watch over him; his case shall soon be
disposed of. Nancy, you will call me at daylight."
When Cornbury had been secured, the men returned into the cave, leaving
one with a loaded pistol to guard him. Nancy still remained on the
watch.
"Nancy Corbett," said Cornbury, "why am I treated thus?"
"Why?" replied Nancy, with scorn; "ask yourself why. Do you think that
I did not know when I sought you at the beach that you had sailed in the
cutter, had brought the boats here, and that if it had not been for the
lieutenant taking his dog in the boat, and its barking, you would have
delivered us all into the hands of the Philistines?--wretched traitor."
"Damn!" muttered Cornbury; "then it is to you, you devil, that I am
indebted for being entrapped this way."
"Yes, to me," replied Nancy, with scorn. "And, depend upon it, you will
have your deserts before the sun is one hour in the heavens."
"Mistress Nancy, I must beg you to walk your watch like a lady, and not
to be corresponding with my prisoner any how, whether you talk raison or
traison, as may happen to suit your convanience," observed the man who
was guard over Cornbury.
"Be aisy, my jewel," replied Nancy, mimicking the Irishman, "and I'll be
as silent as a magpie, any how. And, Mr Fitzpatrick, you'll just be
plased to keep your two eyes upon your prisoner, and not be staring at
me, following me up and down, as you do, with those twinklers of yours."
"A cat may look at a king, Mistress Nancy, and no harm done either."
"You forget, Mr Fitzpatrick," replied Nancy, "that I am now a modest
woman."
"More's the pity, Mistress Nancy: I wish you'd forget it too, and I
dying of love for you."
Nancy walked away to the end of the platform to avoid further
conversation. The day was now dawning, and as, by degrees, the light
was thrown upon the face of Cornbury, it was strange to witness how his
agitation and his fear had changed all the ruby carbuncles on his face
to a deadly white. He called to Nancy Corbett in an humble tone once or
twice as she passed by in her walk, but received no reply further than a
look of scorn. As soon as it was broad daylight, Nancy went into the
cave to call up the leader.
In a few minutes he appeared, with the rest of the smugglers.
"Philip Cornbury," said he, with a stern and unrelenting countenance,
"you would have betrayed us for the sake of money."
"It is false," replied Cornbury.
"False, is it? you shall have a fair trial. Nancy Corbett, give your
evidence before us all."
Nancy recapitulated all that had passed.
"I say again, that it is false," replied Cornbury. "Where is the woman
whom she states to have told her this? This is nothing more than
assertion, and I say again, it is false. Am I to be condemned without
proofs? Is my life to be sacrificed to the animosity of this woman, who
wishes to get rid of me, because--"
"Because what?" interrupted Nancy.
"Because I was too well acquainted with you before your marriage, and
can tell too much."
"Now, curses on you, for a liar as well as a traitor!" exclaimed Nancy.
"What I was before I was married is well known; but it is well known,
also, that I pleased my fancy, and could always choose, I must, indeed,
have had a sorry taste to be intimate with a blotched wretch like you,
sir," continued Nancy, turning to the leader, "it is false; and whatever
may be said against me on other points, Nancy Dawson, or Nancy Corbett,
was never yet so vile as to assert a lie, I put it to you, sir, and to
all of you, is not my word sufficient in this case?"
The smugglers nodded their heads in assent.
"And now that is admitted, I will prove his villany and falsehood.
Philip Cornbury, do you know this paper?" cried Nancy, taking out of her
bosom the agreement signed by Vanslyperken, which she had picked up on
the night when Cornbury had torn it up and thrown it away. "Do you know
this paper, I ask you? Read it, sir," continued Nancy, handing it over
to the leader of the smugglers.
The paper was read, and the inflexible countenance of the leader turned
towards Cornbury--who saw his doom.
"Go in, Nancy Corbett, and let no women appear till all is over."
"Liar!" said Nancy, spitting on the ground as she passed by Cornbury.
"Bind his eyes, and lead him to the western edge," said the leader.
"Philip Cornbury, you have but a few minutes to live. In mercy, you may
see the holy father, if you wish it."
"I'm no damned papist," replied Cornbury, in a sulky tone.
"Lead him on then."
Cornbury was led to the western edge of the flat, where the cliff was
most high and precipitous, and then made to kneel down.
"Fitzpatrick," said the leader, pointing to the condemned.
Fitzpatrick walked up to the kneeling man with his loaded pistol, and
then the others, who had led Cornbury to the edge of the cliff, retired.
Fitzpatrick cocked the lock.
"Would you like to say, `God have mercy on my treacherous sinful sowl,'
or anything short and sweet like that?" said Fitzpatrick; "if so, I'll
wait a couple of seconds more for your convanience, Philip Cornbury."
Cornbury made no reply. Fitzpatrick put the pistol to his ear, the ball
whizzed through his brain, the body half raised itself from its knees
with a strong muscular action, and then toppled over, and disappeared
down the side of the precipice.
"It's to be hoped that the next time you lave this world, Master
Cornbury, it will be in a purliter sort of manner. A civil question
demands a civil answer, anyhow," said Fitzpatrick, coolly rejoining the
other men.