palaces; there are riches, beauty, and everything mortal can want.
Our homes are magnificent, the roofs are covered with diamonds and other
gems, so that it is ever light and sparkling, the walls are of amber and
coral. Your floors are of rough, ugly rocks, ours are of mother-of-pearl.
For statuary we have the bodies of earth's most beautiful sons and
daughters, who come to us in ships, sent by the King of the Storms.
We embalm them, so that they look more lovely even than in life, with
their eyes still sparkling, their lips of ruby-red, and the delicate pink
of the sea-shell in their cheeks. Come and see for yourself how well we
care for them, and how reposeful they look in their pearl and coral homes,
with sea-plants growing around them, and gold and silver heaped at their
feet. They crossed the world to get it, and their journeys have not been
failures. Will you come, noble stranger? Come to be one of us whose
lives are all love, and sunshine, and merriment?"
"None of it's in my line, I'm thinking, my dear," said Lutey. "I'd rather
come across some of the things that have gone down in the wrecks, wines
and brandy, laces and silks; there's a pretty sight of it all gone to the
bottom, one time and another, I'm thinking."
"Ah yes! We have vast cellars full of the choicest wines ever made, and
caves stored with laces and silks. Come, stranger, come, and take all you
want."
"Well," answered the old smuggler, who was thinking what a fine trade he
could do, if only he could reach those caves and cellars, "I must say I'd
like to, 'tis very tempting, but I should never live to get there,
I'm thinking. I should be drownded or smothered before I'd got half-way."
"No, oh no, I can manage that for you. I will make two slits under your
chin, your lovely countenance will not suffer, for your beard will hide
them. Such a pair of gills is all you want, so do not fear. Do not leave
me, generous-hearted youth. Come to the mermaid's home!" They were in
the sea by this time, and the breakers they wanted to reach were not far
off. Lutey felt strangely tempted to go with this Siren; her flashing
green eyes had utterly bewitched him by this time, and her promises had
turned his head. She saw that he was almost consenting, almost in her
power. She clasped her long, wet, finny fingers more closely round his
neck, and pressed her cool lips to his cheeks.
Another instant, and Lutey would have gone to his doom, but at that moment
there came from the shore the sound of a dog barking as though in
distress. It was the barking of Lutey's own dog, a great favourite with
its master. Lutey turned to look. At the edge of the water the poor
creature stood; evidently frantic to follow its master, it dashed into the
sea and out again, struggling, panting. Beyond, on the cliff, stood his
home, the windows flaming against the sun, his garden, and the country
round looking green and beautiful; the smoke was rising from his chimney,
--ah, his supper! The thought of his nice hot meal broke the spell, and he
saw his danger.
"Let me go, let me go!" he shrieked, trying to lower the mermaid to the
ground. She only clung the more tightly to him. He felt a sudden fear
and loathing of the creature with the scaly body, and fish's tail. Her
green eyes no longer fascinated him. He remembered all the tales he had
heard of the power of mermaids, and their wickedness, and grew more and
more terrified.
"Let me go!" he yelled again, "unwind your gashly great tail from about my
legs, and your skinny fingers from off my throat, or I'll--I'll kill you!"
and with the same he whipped his big clasp-knife from his pocket.
As the steel flashed before the mermaid's eyes she slipped from him and
swam slowly away, but as she went she sang, and the words floated back to
Lutey mournfully yet threateningly. "Farewell, farewell for nine long
years. Then, my love, I will come again. Mine, mine, for ever mine!"
Poor Lutey, greatly relieved to see her disappear beneath the waves,
turned and waded slowly back to land, but so shaken and upset was he by
all that had happened, that it was almost more than he could accomplish.
On reaching the shore he just managed to scramble to the shed where he
kept many of the treasures he had smuggled from time to time, but having
reached it he dropped down in a deep, overpowering sleep.
Poor old Ann Betty Lutey was in a dreadful state of mind when supper-time
came and went and her husband had not returned. He had never missed it
before. All through the night she watched anxiously for him, but when
breakfast-time came, and still there was no sign of him, she could not
rest at home another minute, and started right away in search of him.
She did not have to search far, though. Outside the door of the shed she
found the dog lying sleeping, and as the dog was seldom seen far from his
master, she thought she would search the shed first,--and there, of
course, she found her husband.
He was still sound asleep. Ann Betty, vexed at once at having been
frightened for nothing, shook him none too gently. "Here, Lutey, get up
to once, do you hear!" she cried crossly. "Why ever didn't 'ee come in to
supper,--such a beautiful bit of roast as I'd got, too! Where've 'ee
been? What 'ave 'ee been doing? What 'ave 'ee been sleeping here for?"
Lutey raised himself into a sitting position. "Who are you?" he shouted.
"Are you the beautiful maiden come for me? Are you Morwenna?"
"Whatever are you talking about? You haven't called me beautiful for the
last thirty years, and I ain't called Morwenna. I'm Ann Betty Lutey, your
own lawful wife, and if you don't know me, you must be gone clean out of
your mind."
"Ann Betty Lutey," said the old man solemnly, "if you're my lawful wife
you've had a narrow escape this night of being left a widow woman, and you
may be thankful you've ever set eyes on me again."
"Come in and have some breakfast," said Ann Betty Lutey sternly, "and if
you ain't better then I'll send for the doctor. It's my belief your brain
is turned."
Lutey got up obediently and went in to his breakfast; indeed, he was glad
enough of it, for he was light-headed from want of food. His breakfast
did him good. Before he had finished it he was able to tell his wife
about his adventure the night before, and he told it so gravely and
sensibly that Ann Betty believed every word of it, and no longer thought
his brain was turned.
Indeed, she was so much impressed by his story that before many hours had
passed she had gone round to every house in the parish spreading the news,
and to prove the truth of it she produced the pearl comb.
Then, oh dear, the gossiping that went on! It really was dreadful!
The women neglected their homes, their children, and everything else for
the whole of that week; and for months after old Lutey was besieged by all
the sick and sorry for miles and miles around, who came to him to be
cured. He did such a big business in healing people, that not a doctor
for miles round could earn a living. Everyone went to old Lutey, and when
it was found that he had power over witchcraft, too, he became the most
important man in the whole country.
Lutey had been so rude and rough to the mermaiden when he parted from her,
that no one would have been surprised if she had avenged herself on him
somehow, and punished him severely. But no, she was true to all her
promises. He got all his wishes, and neither he nor his descendants have
ever come to want. Better far, though, would it have been for him had it
been otherwise, for he paid dearly enough for his wishes in the end.
Nine years from that very time, on a calm moonlight night, Lutey,
forgetting all about the mermaid and her threats, arranged to go out with
a friend to do a little fishing. There was not a breath of wind stirring,
and the sea was like glass, so that a sail was useless, and they had to
take to the oars. Suddenly, though, without any puff of wind, or anything
else to cause it, the sea rose round the boat in one huge wave, covered
with a thick crest of foam, and in the midst of the foam was Morwenna!
Morwenna! as lovely as ever, her arms outstretched, her clear green eyes
fixed steadily, triumphantly on Lutey. She did not open her lips, or
make a sign, she only gazed and gazed at her victim.
For a moment he looked at her as though bewildered, then like one bereft
of his senses by some spell, he rose in the boat, and turned his face
towards the open sea. "My time is come," he said solemnly and sadly, and
without another word to his frightened companion he sprang out of the boat
and joined the mermaid. For a yard or two they swam in silence side by
side, then disappeared beneath the waves, and the sea was as smooth again
as though nothing had happened.
From that moment poor Lutey has never been seen, nor has his body been
found. Probably he now forms one of the pieces of statuary so prized by
the mermaiden, and stands decked with sea-blossoms, with gold heaped at
his feet. Or, maybe, with a pair of gills slit under his chin, he swims
about in their beautiful palaces, and revels in the cellars of shipwrecked
wines. The misfortunes to his family did not end, though, with Lutey's
disappearance, for, no matter how careful they are, how far they live from
the sea, or what precautions they take to protect themselves, every ninth
year one of old Lutey's descendants is claimed by the sea.
THE WICKED SPECTRE.
There was once upon a time a good old Cornish family of the name of
Rosewarne. Well-born, well-to-do gentlepeople they were, who had always
lived in their own fine old house on their own estate, and never knew what
it was to want any comfort or luxury.
The family in time, though, grew larger than their income, and their pride
and their dignity were greater than either, so that in trying to support
the large family according to their larger dignity, the poor little income
got quite swallowed up and the whole family of Rosewarne became involved
in poverty and great difficulties.
Mr. Rosewarne, the father of the last of the family to live on the
property, employed for his lawyer and man of business an attorney called
Ezekiel Grosse, and, as so often happens, as fast as Mr. Rosewarne went
down in the world, his lawyer went up.
Ezekiel grew rich, no one knew how, and prospered in every way; Mr.
Rosewarne grew poor, and lost in every way. Nothing on the property paid,
and at last, to his great grief and never-ceasing regret, Mr. Rosewarne
had to sell his beloved home and everything belonging to him. Then, who
should come forward to buy it, as soon as ever it was put up for sale,
but his own lawyer, Ezekiel Grosse!
Everybody wondered, and most people declared that Ezekiel could not have
made such a large sum honestly by his business; that he must have other
and less straight methods of getting money. Anyhow, whether he made it
honestly, or dishonestly, he had enough to buy the estate he coveted, and
as soon as the old family could turn out, he himself took up his abode in
the fine old house, and a very proud man he was.
If, though, he was a proud man as he sat in the spacious library, or
wandered through the lofty rooms and noble old hall, he could not have
been a very happy one, and very little enjoyment could he have got out of
his new possession, for, from the very hour he entered and took up his
abode there, such unearthly and mysterious noises, such fearful screams
and gruesome groans worried and haunted and dogged him, as made his hair
stand on end, and nearly scared him out of his wits. A ghost, too,
appeared in the park as soon as night fell.
As Ezekiel crossed the park he would be suddenly confronted by a white,
worn face and a pair of great, ghastly, luminous eyes. It would rise up
from the ground in front of him, or pop round trees and bushes at him, or,
on raising his eyes, he would find it confronting him over a hedge. And
before very long the ghost, not content with making noises in the house,
and haunting the park, took it into his head to enter the house, and make
that his permanent home.
When Ezekiel came face to face with him indoors, he thought he was not
such a terrible ghost after all, and much of his fear left him, for the
ghost to look at seemed only an infirm old man. Indeed the lawyer found
him less terrifying than the horrible uncanny sounds which seemed to come
from nowhere, and could not be accounted for.
By and by, though, the ghost's visits were repeated so often, and he began
to make such mysterious signs and movements, that the surly lawyer soon
lost patience, and before long grew so seriously angry that he determined
to put an end to the annoyance and rid himself of his tormentor once and
for all.
The very next night as Ezekiel sat alone in his office looking over some
papers, and making up his accounts, the ghost glided into the room as
usual, and taking up his position opposite, at once began to make the
usual mysterious and extraordinary signs. The lawyer was very irritable,
he had lost an important case, and was out of spirits, he was unusually
nervous, too. For a while he bore the presence of the ghost and his
extraordinary behaviour with a certain amount of patience, then suddenly
he lost his temper.
"For pity's sake tell me what it is you want with me, and be done with it,
can't you?" he cried angrily.
The ghost immediately stopped his gesticulations, and spoke.
"Ezekiel Grosse," said he, in a hollow, ghostly voice, "Ezekiel Grosse,
follow me. I can show you buried gold, the wealth for which thou
longest."
Now no man in the world loved gold better than did the attorney, but he
was anything but a brave man, and even he himself knew that he was not a
good one, and the thought of going alone with this uncanny guide, to some
desolate spot where no one could see or hear him if he called for help,
made his teeth chatter and his knees tremble.
He hesitated, and gazed searchingly at the little old ghost, but to save
his life he could not utter a word. He nearly suffocated with longing to
possess the secret and know where the treasure lay, but he dared not ask;
and all the time the spectre stood staring at him with unwinking scornful
eyes, as if the sight of the cowardly, trembling man gave him unfeigned
pleasure.
At length, beckoning Ezekiel to follow him, he turned and walked towards
the door. Then Ezekiel, fearful of losing the secret and the wealth,
threw aside every feeling but greed, and sprang to follow--at least, he
tried to spring, but so firmly was he secured to his chair he could not
budge.
"Come," said the ghost imperatively.
Ezekiel tried again, but great as was his longing to find the gold, he
could not obey.
"Gold," whispered the ghost in a whining, craven tone, "don't you hear me,
man? Gold!"
"Where?" gasped the lawyer, making another desperate struggle.
"Come with me, and you shall see," answered the spectre, moving further
through the doorway; and the lawyer struggled like a madman to get free
from the chair and to follow.
"Come, man, come," shrieked the ghost in a perfectly awful voice.
"Ezekiel Grosse, I command thee." And with that Ezekiel, by a power
stronger than his own, was forced to rise and to follow the old man
wheresoever he led him.
Out through the hall they went, down through the park, and on and on by
ways the attorney did not know, until at last they arrived at a little
dell. The night was pitchy dark, and nothing could Ezekiel see but the
ghostly figure gliding along ahead of him, all lit by a weird
phosphorescent light. In the dell was a small granite cairn, and here the
ghost stopped and looked around for the attorney.
"Ezekiel Grosse," said he, when Ezekiel had come up and was standing on
the other side of the cairn. "Ezekiel Grosse, thou longest for gold.
So did I! I won the prize, but I found no pleasure in it. Beneath those
stones lies treasure enough to make thee richer than thou hast ever
dreamed of. Dig for it, it is yours. Obtain it and keep it all to
yourself, and be one of the rich men of the earth, and when thou art
happiest I will come and look upon you."
With that the spectre disappeared, and Ezekiel, overcome with fright and
amazement, was left alone by the cairn.
"Well," he said at last, recovering his courage, "I don't care if you are
ghost or devil, I will soon find out if you are telling me lies or not!"
A harsh laugh sounded through the darkness, as though in answer to his
brave words, and once again the attorney trembled with fear.
He did not begin his search that night, but taking careful note of the
exact spot, he returned to his house to think over all that had happened;
and what he decided was that he was not going to let any squeamishness
stand in the way of a fortune.
"I'll tip over that old cairn," he said, with a great show of coolness,
"and I'll search every foot of ground under it and around it, and it shall
not be my fault if the treasure is not found!"
So, a night or two later, armed with a crowbar and other tools, away he
started secretly, and found his way again to the lonely dell, where he
soon dispersed the stones of the cairn and began his digging. The ground
was hard and flinty, and the work anything but easy, but he had not far to
dig before he came across something, something hard and round, which
increased his excitement until it nearly suffocated him.
Feverishly he dug and dug, and cleared away the earth until at last he had
laid bare a large metallic urn sunk deep in the ground, an urn so large
and heavy that though he used his utmost strength, and his strength by
that time was almost that of a madman, he could not move it, much less
carry it home with him; and having brought no light he could not even
examine it. So all he could do that night was to cover it over again with
earth, and replace the stones on the top so that no one, coming upon it,
should guess that the cairn had been touched. Ezekiel scarcely knew how
to live through the next twenty-four hours, and as soon as it was dark on
the following evening he crept out of his house, with a dark lantern
concealed beneath his cloak.
He knew his way to the dell so well now that he reached there very
quickly, and with very little trouble he threw down the cairn and laid
bare the urn again. By the light of the lantern he soon forced open the
lid, in spite of the trembling of his eager, covetous fingers. The lid
off he went to plunge his hand in boldly, when to his unspeakable delight
he found the thing full to the brim of gold coins of all sorts and sizes,
and from all countries, coins of the rarest and most valuable description!
Glancing round every now and then to see that he was not followed, or that
no one had come upon him accidentally, he loaded every pocket in his
clothing with his treasure, then he buried the urn, rebuilt the cairn, and
hurried back to his house anxious to conceal his wealth in a place of
safety.
From that time forward, whenever he could get out without arousing the
suspicions of his servants, he went night after night to the cairn, until
he had brought away every coin, and had them all carefully hidden in
Rosewarne House.
And now, his treasure safe, himself the richest man in the county,
Ezekiel Grosse began to feel perfectly happy. He built new wings on to
the old house, he laid out the gardens, and made improvements everywhere;
even in his own clothing and his personal appearance.
The people round could not help noticing the changes that were taking
place, the money that was being spent, and the improvements that were
being made. You may be quite sure, too, that the attorney took care to
parade his wealth, for, having money, a fine house, fine clothes, and
carriages and servants, indeed, everything but friends, he began to want
friends too, and people to whom to show off his grandeur.
And before very long, though everyone knew his character, and what he had
been and what he had done, the neighbouring gentry began to seek his
acquaintance, and many of them declared themselves his friends.
After that the attorney broke forth in quite a new way, he began to give
entertainments more lavish and splendid than anything of the kind ever
known in the county. Everyone flocked to him, people plotted and
struggled to get invitations from him. They quite ignored the fact that
but a little while before he had been a poor rogue of an attorney whom
they all despised, and that he had come by his wealth by means which no
one had been able to fathom. They all seemed to be bewitched, to be under
some spell.
High revels were constantly held at Rosewarne House, now, and the gayest
and liveliest of all the people gathered there was the master himself.
He was as happy at this time as a man could be, and a great part of his
happiness was due to the fact that he had never set eyes on his ghostly
visitor since the night he conducted him to the treasure in the dell.
Months went by, the feastings and gaieties grew more and more splendid,
the hospitality more and more profuse, those who had not his acquaintance,
craved it, and everyone bowed before the 'Lord of Rosewarne,' as in time
he came to be called.
Indeed, he went about as though he were the lord of the whole county, and
everyone his inferior. He travelled always in a chaise and four, he kept
numberless carriages, horses, servants. He was elected to every high
position in the county, and he was never tired of preaching of the beauty
of honesty and uprightness, and our duty to our poorer brethren.
So things went on until one Christmas Eve, when there was gathered at
Rosewarne a large company of the most beautiful and well-born of all the
families in Cornwall. Such a gathering had seldom been seen as was
gathered that night in the great hall for the ball Ezekiel Grosse was
giving; and in the kitchen was an equally large party engaged in the same
form of enjoyment.
Food and wine were provided in lavish profusion, everything was on a most
sumptuous scale. Merriment ran high, everyone was in the gayest of
spirits, and gayest of all was Ezekiel. Now he felt the power of wealth,
now he was positive that all other things were as nothing to it; for had
it not made him the most popular, the most important, the most welcomed
and sought-after man in the county?
All had just reached the very highest pitch of mirth and excitement that
could be reached, when a sudden chill, as though the hand of death were on
them, fell on the company! The dancing ceased, no one quite knew why, and
the dancers looked at each other uneasily, each frightened by the other's
pallor.
Then, suddenly, whence, or how come, no one knew,--in the middle of the
hall they saw a little old man standing gazing at the host with eyes from
which darted a hatred which was perfectly venomous. Everyone wanted to
ask who he was, and how he had come, but no one dared. They looked at
Ezekiel Grosse, expecting him in his usually haughty way to demand what
right he had there;--but Ezekiel Grosse stood like a figure hewn out of
stone.
It all took place in about a minute, and then the old man vanished in the
same mysterious way that he had come.
As soon as he had gone, the host, who a moment before had been petrified
with terror, as quickly recovered himself, and burst into uproarious
laughter. It was forced laughter, though, unnatural mirth, as most of
those present could not help feeling.
"Ha, ha! my friends. What do you think of my little surprise? How do you
like my Father Christmas? Cleverly managed, was it not? But you all look
rather alarmed by his sudden movements. I hope my little joke has not
frightened you. Hand round the wine and punch there, then we will on with
the dancing again!"
Try as he would, though, he could not put new life into the evening's
festivities, the mirth was dead, the pleasure overcast, for there was
still that strange deathlike chill in the air. The guests, frightened,
and convinced that something was wrong, made various excuses and one by
one took their departure.
From that evening everything was changed. Ezekiel Grosse and his
entertainments were never the same again. He never acknowledged any
difference, and he gave more parties, and issued more invitations than
ever, but at every feast, every dance, every entertainment of any sort,
there was always one uninvited guest, a little wizened, weird old man, who
sat back in his chair and never spoke to anyone, but gazed all the time at
Ezekiel with stern, uncanny eyes which frightened all who caught sight of
them. Indeed, the effect he had on the guests was extraordinary; under
the chill of his presence they could not talk, or eat or drink, or keep up
any appearance of enjoyment.