HOW I CAME INTO RICH TREASURE
"Carette, ma mie," I asked, as we sat in the heather on Longue Pointe, the
evening after I got home, "when shall we marry?"
"When you will, Phil. I am ready."
"As soon as may be then," and I drew her close into my arms, the richest
treasure any man might have, and thanked God for his mercies.
It was a glorious evening, with a moon like a silver sickle floating over
Guernsey. The sky was of a rare depth and purity, which changed from palest
blue to faintest green, and away to the north-west, above the outer isles,
the sun was sinking behind a bank of plum-coloured clouds which faded away
in long thin bands along the water line. The clouds were rimmed with golden
fire, and wherever an opening was, the golden glory streamed through and
lit the darkening waters between, and set our bold Sercq headlands all
aflame. And up above, the little wind-drawn clouds were rosy red, and right
back into the east the sky was flushed with colour. It was a very low tide,
too, and every rock was bared, so that from the white spit of Herm it
seemed as though a long dark line of ships sped northwards towards the
Casquets. Brecqhou lay dark before us, and the Gouliot Pass was black with
its coiling tide. A flake of light glimmered through the cave behind, and
now and again came the boom of a wave under some low ledge below. Up above
us the sky was full of larks, and their sweet sharp notes came down to us
like peals of little silver bells. And down in Havre Gosselin the gulls
were wheeling noisily as they settled themselves for the night.
I have always thought that view one of the most beautiful in the world, but
all its glories were as nothing to the greater glory in our two hearts. We
had had our cloudy days and our times of storm and strife; and now they
were past, our clouds were turned into golden glories and our hearts were
glad. We had been parted. We had looked death in the face. And now we were
together and we would part no more.
We sat there in the heather till all the glories faded save our own,--till
Guernsey and Herm and Jethou sank into the night--till Brecqhou was only a
shadow, and the Gouliot stream only a sound; and then we went down the
scented lanes close-linked, as were our hearts.
Jean Le Marchant was sitting in the kitchen with Aunt Jeanne. He was
recovered of his wound, and Martin also, but for the elder, at all events,
active life was over, and he would have to be content with the land, and
his memories.
We came in arm in arm.
"Do you see any objection to our marrying at once, M. Le Marchant?" I
asked. "We are of one mind in the matter."
"B'en!" said Aunt Jeanne, with a face like a globe of light. "We will have
it on Wednesday. You can go over to the Dean for a license, mon gars, and
I'll be all ready--Wednesday--you understand."
And Jean Le Marchant smiled and said, "At Beaumanoir Mistress Falla rules
the roost. Everyone does as she says."
"I should think so," said Aunt Jeanne, with an emphatic nod. "If they don't
I know the reason why. So we'll say Wednesday. Have you had the news,
Phil?"
"What news then, Aunt Jeanne?"
"Ah then, you've not heard. George Hamon was in from Guernsey. He says you
are to get the reward offered by the London Merchants for the upsetting of
Monsieur Torode."
"I?"
"And who better, mon gars? If it hadn't been for you, he'd be there yet
gobbling their ships at his will. Now don't you be a fool, my dear. Take
what the good God sends you with a good grace. You'll find a use for it
when the babies begin coming, I warrant you. Little pigs don't fatten on
water. Ma fé, non!"--at which bit of Aunt Jeanne, Carette only laughed,
with a fine colour in her face.
And to make an end of that, in due time the five thousand pounds was indeed
sent to me, and I put it in the bank in Guernsey for the use of Carette
"and the children" as Aunt Jeanne said--and of the interest I reserved a
portion for the provision of such small comforts as were possible to the
lonely one on the Ecréhous.
And so, by no merit of my own, I became a man of substance and not
dependent on Aunt Jeanne's bounty, which I think she would have preferred.
We were married in the little church alongside the Seigneurie at the head
of the valley, by M. Pierre Paul Secretan, and Aunt Jeanne's enjoyment
therein and in the feast that followed was, I am certain, greater than any
she had felt when she was married herself.
We continued to live with her at Beaumanoir, and she gave me of her wisdom
in all matters relating to the land and its treatment, as she did also to
Carette in household matters and the proper bringing up of a family, about
which latter subject she knew far more than any mother that ever was born.
In me she found an apt pupil, and so came to leave matters more and more in
my hands, with sharp criticism of all mistakes and ample advice for setting
things right.
Carette drank in all her wisdom--until the babies came, and then she took
her own way with them, and, judging by results, it was an excellent way.
George Hamon still brought me word from time to time of the exile on the
Ecréhous.
We were sitting over the fire, one cold night in the spring, Carette and I,
Aunt Jeanne having gone to bed to get warm, when a knock came on the door,
and when I opened it George Hamon came in and stood before the hearth. He
looked pinched and cold, and yet aglow with some inner warmth, and his
first word told why.
"He is dead, Phil. I found him lying in his bed as if asleep, but he was
dead."
I nodded soberly. He was better dead, but I was glad he had not died by my
hand.
"I have got him here--" said Uncle George.
"Here?" and I jumped up quickly.
"In my boat down in Port du Moulin."
"But why?"
"Because--" and he stood looking at us, and Carette nodded understandingly.
And at that he went on quickly--"Because I have waited over twenty years,
Phil, and I am going to wait no longer," and I understood.
"You are going to tell her?" I asked.
"Yes--now. I must. But not all, I think. We will see. But not all if we can
help it. It will open the old wound, but, please God, I will heal it and
she shall be happy yet."
"Yes," I said. "I think you can heal the wound, Uncle George. What do you
want me to do?"
"Come with me, if you will;" and I kissed my wife and followed him out.
"You understand," he said, as we went across the fields to Belfontaine. "He
was among Torode's men. I recognised him, and we smuggled him off so that
he should not be hanged;" and on that understanding we knocked on the door
and went in.
My grandfather was reading in one of his big books, my mother was at her
knitting, and Krok was busy over a fishing-net.
"Ah, you two!" said my mother. "What mischief are you plotting now? It is
like old times to see you with your heads together. But, ma fé, you seem to
have changed places. What trouble have you been getting into, George?"
"Aw then, Rachel!--It is out of trouble I am getting. I bring you strange
news;" and she sat looking up at him with deep wonder in her eyes.
Perhaps she saw behind his face into his thoughts--into his heart. For, as
she gazed, a startled look came over her, and her face flushed and made
her young again.
"What is it?"
"Paul Martel died yesterday."
"Paul?" and her hand went quickly to her heart, as though to still a sudden
stab of pain, and for the moment her face whitened and then dyed red again.
Krok had eyed Uncle George keenly from the moment he entered. Now he did a
strange thing. He got up quietly and took down a lantern and went to the
fire to light it. Perhaps it had been an understood thing between them. I
do not know.
My mother looked at Krok and then at Uncle George, and my grandfather stood
up.
"Yes," said Uncle George with a grave nod. "I have got him here--in my boat
in Port du Moulin, for I knew you could not credit it unless you saw him
yourself."
"But how--?" she faltered.
"He was among Torode's crew--he was wounded. I recognised him, and we got
him away lest--well, you understand? He has been living on the Ecréhous,
and he died there yesterday. Will you see him?" and he looked at her very
earnestly, and she knew all that his look meant.
Her silence seemed long, while Uncle George looked at her entreatingly, and
she looked at the floor, and seemed lost in thought.
"Yes," she said at last, and Went towards the door.
"Put on a shawl. The night is cold," said Uncle George, and it seemed to me
that there was something of a new and gentle right in his tone, something
of proprietorship in his manner.
And so we went along the footpaths past La Moinerie and down the zigzag
into Port du Moulin, the only bay along that coast into which my mother
could possibly have gone by night, and that was why Uncle George had
brought him there.
I do not think a word was spoken all the way. Krok held the lantern for my
mother's feet. Uncle George walked close behind her, and at times before
her, in the descent, and helped her down, and so we came at last to the
shingle and crunched over it to the boat.
Krok put down his lantern on a rock, and he and Uncle George got in and
pulled out to the lugger which was anchored about twenty yards out.
They came back presently, and lifted out the body and laid it gently on the
stones, and Krok brought his lantern. My mother's face was very white and
pinched as she knelt down beside it, and at first sight she started and
looked quickly up at Uncle George as though in doubt or denial. And
presently Uncle George bent down and with his hand lifted the moustache
back from the dead man's mouth, and my mother gazed into the dark face and
said quietly, "It is he," then she seized my grandfather's arm suddenly and
turned away. They were stumbling over the rough stones when Krok ran after
them with the lantern and came back in the dark.
We laid the body in the boat again, and Krok lifted in some great round
stones, and we rowed out to the black loom of the lugger. Uncle George lit
his own lantern, and by its dim light Krok set to work preparing my
father's body for its last journey.
Whether he was simply anxious to get done with the business, or whether he
felt a gloomy satisfaction in performing these last rites for a man whom he
had always hated for his treatment of my mother, I do not know. But he
certainly went about it with a grim earnestness which was not very far
removed from enjoyment.
He stripped the mizzen-mast of its sail, and Uncle George said no word
against it. If Krok had required the lugger itself as a coffin he would not
have said him nay.
He wrapped the body carefully in the sail, with great smooth stones from
the beach, and with some rope and his knife he sewed it all tightly
together, and pulled each knot home with a jerk that was meant to be final,
and his hairy old face was crumpled into a frown as he worked.
We ran swiftly up Great Russel under the strong west wind, until, by the
longer swing of the seas, we knew we were free of the rocks and islands
north of Herm.
Then Uncle George turned her nose to the wind, and under the slatting sail,
with bared heads, we committed to the seas the body of him who had wrought
such mischief upon them and in some of our lives.
"Dieu merci!" said Uncle George, as the long white figure slipped from our
hands and plunged down through the black waters. Then he clapped on his cap
and turned the helm, and the lugger went bounding back quicker than she had
come, for she and we were lightened of our loads.
We ran back round Brecqhou into Havre Gosselin, and climbed the ladders and
went to our homes.
Uncle George and my mother were married just a month after our little Phil
was born, and I learned again, from the look on my mother's face, that a
woman's age is counted not by years but by that which the years have
brought her.
They have been very happy. There is only one happier household on the
Island, and that is ours at Beaumanoir, for it is full of the sound of
children's voices, and the patter of little feet.
THE FORTY MEN OF SERCQ IN THE YEAR 1800
EAST SIDE
No. Name of House. Tenant.
1. Le Fort Thomas Hamon.
2. Le Grand Fort Jean Le Feuvre.
3. La Tour Amice Le Couteur (Sénéchal).
4. La Genêtière Philippe Guille.
5. La Rade Thomas Mauger.
6. La Ville Roussel Pierre Le Feuvre.
7. La Ville Roussel Abraham De Carteret.
8. La Ville Roussel Jean Vaudin.
9. La Ville Roussel Philippe Guille.
10. La Ville Roussel Jean Drillot.
11. Le Carrefour Elie Guille.
12. La Valette de Bas Elie Guille.
13. La Valette Robert De Carteret.
14. Vaux de Creux Pierre Le Pelley (Seigneur).
15. La Friponnerie Martin Le Masurier.
16. La Colinette Jean Falle.
17. Le Manoir Pierre Le Pelley (Seigneur).
18. La Vauroque Thomas De Carteret.
19. La Forge Thomas De Carteret.
20. La Pomme du Chien Pierre Le Pelley (Seigneur).
21. Dixcart Thomas Godfray.
22. Grand Dixcart Henri Le Masurier.
23. Petit Dixcart Eliza Poidestre.
24. La Jaspellerie William Le Masurier.
25. Clos Bourel Abraham Guille.
PETIT SERCQ
26. La Sablonnerie Philippe Guille.
27. La Moussie Nicholas Mollet.
28. La Friponnerie Philippe Baker.
WEST SIDE
PETIT SERCQ
29. Du Vallerie Jean Hamon.
30. La Pipetterie Helier Baker.
SERCQ
31. Dos d'Ane Abraham Guille.
32. Beauregard Philippe Slowley.
33. Beauregard Pierre Le Masurier.
34. Le Vieux Port Philippe Tanquerel.
35. Le Port Edouard Vaudin.
36. La Moignerie Jean Le Feuvre.
37. La Rondelrie Thomas Mauger.
38. La Moinerie Abraham Baker.
39. L'Ecluse William De Carteret.
40. La Seigneurie Pierre Le Pelley.
And for the purposes of this story--
Belfontaine Philip Carré.
Beaumanoir Peter Le Marchant (Jeanne Falla).
_Printed by_ MORRISON & GIBB LIMITED, _Edinburgh_
Illustrations:
Map of SERCQ.
THE WEST COAST OF SARK AND BRECQHOU. The standing rocks are the
AUTELETS. The first bay on the left is SAIGNIE; the next, PORT DU
MOULIN; then behind the great rock TINTAGEU is PORT A LA JUMENT. The
GOULIOT PASS seperates SARK from BRECQHOU; the house on BRECQHOU was in
the dip just above where the white waves are breaking. The GALÉ de JACOB
is close to the first cave.
THE CREUX ROAD, Which leads straight up to the life and centre of the
Island.
HAVRE GOSSELIN, and "The Cottage above the Chasm," which Paul Martel
built for Rachel Carré.
TINTAGEU. The great detached rock in foreground is TINTAGEU; to the
left, the altar rock on which Phil used to lie; the bay behind is PORT A
LA JUMENT with BELFONTAINE in the cliffs at the head of it; in the
foreground THE GOULIOT ROCKS and PASSAGE; on the right BRECQHOU.
THE LADY GROTTO. "We knew every rock and stone, and every nook and
cranny of the beetling cliffs." This is the LADY GROTTO near THE
EPERQUERIE.
A QUIET LANE. "The quiet gray lane, with its fern-covered banks and
hedges of roses and honeysuckle."
THE EPERQUERIE. Above the shoulder of the hill to the left, JETHOU just
appears; the larger island with the long painted beak is HERM, with her
string of islets like a fleet of ships speeding to the north. The lower
of the two out-jutting headlands is where the Herm men landed. The
higher is BEC DU NEZ, the most northerly point of SARK.
IN THE CLEFT OF A ROCK.
BELOW BEAUMANOIR. "And in Sercq, the headlands were great soft cushions
of velvet turf, the heather purpled all the hillsides, and, on the gray
rocks below, the long waves shouted aloud because they were free." This
is the slope below "BEAUMANOIR," looking into PORT ES SAIES.
BRECQHOU FROM THE SOUTH. "I looked across at BRECQHOU as I came in sight
of the Western Waters." This shows BRECQHOU from the south. The dark
gash near the head is THE PIRATES' CAVE. The island behind BRECQHOU is
HERM. The end of JETHOU just shows on the left. GUERNSEY lies beyond
them.
THE COUPÉE. Leading from SARK to LITTLE SARK. At the time of the
story, the path was much narrower than now, there were no supporting
walls, and it was continually breaking away. The pinnacles of the
buttresses were also much higher. The Island to the left is LE TAS or
L'ETAC.
THE CHASM OF THE BOUTIQUES. "The tide was still churning among its slabs
and boulders."
THE WATER CAVE. "The roof and walls were studded with anemones of every
size and colour."
EPERQUERIE BAY. Showing the bluff from which the men of SARK fired down
on the men of HERM as they landed the boats.
DIXCART BAY. Where the Herm men landed, is in the centre of the picture,
right below the ruined mill on HOG'S BACK. The straight-walled cliff on
the right of the bay is where the Sark men took their stand. The
out-stretching point on the right is DERRIBLE.
CREUX TUNNEL. Cut by Helier de Carteret in 1588 as an entrance to the
Island. Here PHIL fought the Herm men single-handed.