MONT ORGUEIL
To find a tutor for the boys proved less easy than Mrs. Thayne
anticipated. There seemed a dearth of available young men in Jersey and
she had about decided to send Roger to the best school and let Win work
as he chose by himself, when Mr. Angus heard of a young Scotchman,
already acting as secretary to a gentleman in St. Helier's and who
could give the boys his afternoons.
Such an arrangement was not ideal, but Win took an instant liking to
the tall raw-boned person, who announced himself in a delightful manner
as "Weelyum Feesher."
Roger promptly dubbed him Bill Fish and refused to speak of him by any
other term, causing his mother to live in terror lest Mr. Fisher should
in some way learn of the disrespectful abbreviation. Roger was not at
all enthusiastic about Bill Fish but liked still less the two schools
he visited. To accept the tutor seemed the lesser of two evils.
The chief drawback proved that the boys were occupied at just the time
when the girls were free, with the exception of Wednesday, a holiday
for all.
The result was that Edith and Frances were thrown much together.
Frances found it fortunate that she had a companion of her own age, for
the island ladies soon called upon Mrs. Thayne and drew her into
numerous social engagements. The little community had a strong army and
navy tinge and naturally welcomed Mrs. Thayne. She would have taken far
less part in the various festivities had she been leaving her daughter
alone, but the two girls proved so congenial and Mrs. Thayne was so
well satisfied with Edith as a companion for Frances that she felt free
to indulge her own social instincts and enjoy the pleasant circle so
invitingly opened.
Whenever they went out, the girls kept a close watch for the "collie
lady" and the "beach dog." Twice Tylo came to hail them on the sands,
once apparently entirely alone. The other time he merely greeted them
and bounded away to rejoin two riders on the road. One was his lady,
her companion a slender young man of distinctly foreign aspect, dark
and distinguished-looking. Their horses were walking slowly, the riders
engaged in deep conversation and the beach dog's mistress did not see
the eager faces of the girls.
They talked a good deal about her, wondering who she was, where she
lived and whether they would ever know her. After seeing her on
horseback, they fell more and more under the spell of her charm and
began to picture her the heroine of all sorts of stories.
Day-dreams and romantic stories however, had but a small place in a
world so busily filled with lessons of various kinds. One Tuesday
evening, Frances was openly groaning over the need of writing an essay
upon Julius Caesar.
"Wouldn't you like him better if you saw something he did?" inquired
Win, hearing her lamentations. "There's a castle in Jersey, part of
which he built."
Fran's eyes opened incredulously and Roger whistled. "Is that one of
Bill Fish's yarns?" he demanded.
"Ante-dates him," replied Win. "It's Mont Orgueil, over the other side
of the island. Let's have a picnic there to-morrow, take our lunch and
stay all day. Mother, you must come. Don't say you've promised to make
calls."
"I can go perfectly well," said Mrs. Thayne. "Only there is Roger's
appointment with the dentist in the afternoon. He'll have to keep that,
but there will be plenty of time for the picnic if we start early."
"Think of having an outdoor picnic in December," exclaimed Frances.
"We'll take Edith, of course."
"Of course," assented her mother. "And Estelle, if she will go. I wish
she would. She shuts herself up so closely and seems to shrink from
seeing people, but perhaps she will go to Orgueil just with us."
Even Edith could not persuade her sister to join the party though
Estelle was touched by their regret, evidently genuine.
"If you only would, Star," begged Edith. "You would enjoy it. You don't
know how funny and nice they are to go with."
"I couldn't, little sister," said Estelle gently. "You go and tell me
about it afterwards."
Edith was not satisfied but all persuasion proved useless. She had a
vague idea that Star was worried. Just why, Edith did not see, since
the plan of letting lodgings had come out so pleasantly. Everything was
going smoothly at present; why should Star borrow trouble from the
future?
Mont Orgueil is reached by a miniature railway leading from St.
Helier's to the fishing village of Gorey. By this time the young people
were all well accustomed to the absurd little narrow gauge tramways
with their leisurely trains. But if the train into St. Helier's
crawled, the one to Gorey snailed, to quote Roger. Time was ample to
note the pretty stuccoed houses, pink, cream or brown, with gardens and
climbing vines that even in December made them spots of beauty. They
passed under the frowning cliffs of Fort Regent and saw several lovely
turquoise-blue bays with shining sandy beaches. Farther on farms
succeeded the villas, stone farmhouses with tiled or thatched roofs,
some with orange or other fruit trees trained against their southern
walls. Suddenly Frances rose to her feet.
"What on earth are those?" she demanded. "Just look at those cabbages
on top of canes."
The others looked and saw something answering exactly to Fran's graphic
description.
"Oh, yes" said Mrs. Thayne, "those are the cow cabbages of Jersey. They
are common in the interior of the island. It's a peculiar kind of
cabbage growing five or six feet high. The farmers pick the leaves on
the stalk and leave just the head on top. These stalks are made into
the canes we have seen in shops."
"I saw them," said Win, "but I didn't realize what they were. Look,
there's a Jersey cow among the cabbages."
"The Jersey cattle are so pretty," said Frances admiringly.
"They are very valuable," said Edith. "The farmers coddle them like
children."
Gorey proved a picturesque village with many schooners and boats of
different kinds drawn up on the beach and in every direction fish nets
drying. Above and behind towered the ruined castle of Orgueil, rising
more than three hundred feet sheer from the sea.
Mrs. Thayne sent Roger to find and engage a donkey which Win mounted
without protest, after one glance at the climb before him, though he
insisted on swinging the boxes of luncheon before him on the little
animal's neck. Its owner was dismissed, Roger agreeing to pull the
beast up the hill.
Mont Orgueil forms the crest of a lofty conical rock and looks down
like a grim giant upon the blue waters that stretch away to the coast
of France. Tier after tier the fortifications mount the cone, crowned
at the apex by a flagstaff.
At the castle entrance, gained after a steady climb, a small boy
appeared, sent by the castle keeper to act as guide. He tied the donkey
to an iron post and led the way into the interior.
"This is the oldest part," he began shyly. "They do say this tower was
built by Julius Caesar."
"Gracious, that's some story!" whistled Roger, looking with all his
might.
"I believe it is true," said Mrs. Thayne. "Win, you were reading about
the castle before we started."
"Yes," said Win. "That's straight about Caesar. That's why I wanted
Fran to see it. And most of the place was built a thousand years ago.
Is it ever used now!"
[Illustration: ABOVE AND BEHIND TOWERED THE RUINED CASTLE OF ORGUEIL]
"In summer the signal service is quartered here," replied the boy.
"This is the well, ninety feet deep."
As he spoke, he dropped a pebble over a low parapet. Some seconds later
came a hollow splash.
The guide showed them a cell where condemned prisoners were once kept,
a ruined chapel with a very old crypt, and above the chapel a room
reached by winding stairs. The girls entered with a simultaneous shriek
of delight.
"What a love of a room!" said Edith.
"Mother, isn't this too sweet for words?" demanded Frances.
"This is the Cupola room," explained their guide. "Charles the Second
stopped here during his exile from England."
"Prince Charles!" exclaimed Win, his imagination fired at once. "Oh, I
read that in the guide book, but this--his room--"
Win's voice trailed into silence. To read a fact in a book was
different from standing under the very roof that had once sheltered
bonnie Prince Charlie. He looked about him, trying to picture to
himself those far past days.
The ceiling rose in a huge dome and one immense window framed a
wonderful view. From a little sally-port leading to a platform one
could look sheer down to the rocks or across fourteen miles of tossing
water to beautiful France. By using a little imagination the girls
agreed that they could detect the spire of the cathedral of Coutances
easily visible in clear weather.
"In the French revolution the governor of Jersey signalled to the army
of the Vendée by means of a flagpole held in place by chains," said
Mrs. Thayne.
"Yes," said their small guide. "The chains are still on the wall but
the pole is new. The naval men use it in summer."
"Do they sleep here?" asked Win.
"Down in the chapel, sir."
"I'd stay here," said Win. "Say, how much would you rent this room for?"
"Three and six a week, sir, with the platform thrown in," replied their
small guide so gravely that they all looked to see whether he was
really in earnest.
"That's cheap enough, considering the view," said Mrs. Thayne, smiling.
Fascinated by the picturesque old castle, Win wandered off by himself,
deciphering the inscriptions placed on the many doors. There is no
guard in the guard-room, no stores are kept in the storeroom, and the
chapel never hears a sermon save those preached by its own stones to
those who have ears to hear. But the sunlight falling on the green
platforms, the pigeons cooing on the walls, the blue sea stretching to
the shining cliffs of France, the glamour of old-world romance struck
impressionable Win. Dreamily he recalled that whether Caesar built the
tower or not, no reasonable doubt exists that Orgueil was occupied if
not built by the mighty Prince Rollo, grandfather of William the
Conqueror. Over the main entrance to the castle-keep his coat of arms
survives the centuries. For centuries to come, Orgueil will remain
gathering more legendary charm as the slow years pass.
Win shook off the feeling of awe gently creeping over him and joined
the others, investigating a tiny cell where Prynne the Puritan leader
was confined for three years. Roger was immensely impressed by the
ruins of a secret staircase, connecting a dungeon where the criminals
were executed, with the keep and sally-port.
"There's a many secret stairs in the old Jersey houses," volunteered
their guide, noticing his interest.
"Where can we see them?" demanded Roger at once, but this their small
informer could not tell.
"Gentry lives in those houses," he volunteered. "They'se not open to
trippers."
"To what?" demanded Roger.
"Visitors, strangers like," explained the boy.
"I like that," said Roger, flushing indignantly.
"Hush, Roger," interposed his mother. "No offense was meant. What are
these chains? They seem very old."
"They were used long time ago to hang criminals. They do say they put
'em there alive and left 'em to the corbies."
"Corbies? Oh, crows," interpreted Win. "Nice custom! Mother, look at
the heaps of rocks exposed by the tide."
"There's more this side," said their guide, turning a corner of the
rampart with Roger close at his heels. The rest were about to follow
when suddenly Mrs. Thayne gave an exclamation.
"Listen!" she said. "That must be a skylark."
From somewhere in the blue above fell a rain of happy music, so liquid
and so sweet that it scarcely seemed to come from any earthly bird.
"Where is it?" asked Frances excitedly, peering into the air and
dropping on her knees the better to look up. Mrs. Thayne did the same
and both stared into the sky, trying to detect the tiny spot of
feathered joy, the source of all this melody. Presently Edith and Win
joined them.
Back around the corner came Roger and the guide, both stopping short at
sight of the rest of the party down on their knees on the daisy-starred
turf.
"Whatever are they doing?" ejaculated the boy.
"Oh, it's a skylark!" exclaimed Frances enthusiastically. "Come and
see."
Mouth open in amazement, their small guide stood rooted to the spot. "A
skylark!" he muttered, staring at the four in their attitude of
devotion. "Lookin' at a skylark!" he repeated as though unable to
credit the testimony of his own eyes.
Win burst out laughing and rose to his feet. "Take this," he said,
producing a shilling. "Thank you for showing us about. We'll stay a
while longer and eat lunch here."
The boy pocketed the coin and withdrew, his face still a picture of
incredulous astonishment over the actions of this singular and
apparently insane group of excursionists. At last sight, he was still
slowly shaking his head and murmuring, "Lookin' at a skylark!"
[Illustration: "LOOK, THERE IS A JERSEY COW AMONG THE CABBAGES."]