THE DINNER.
Captain Jackman walked down the steep street watched by the jeweller and
a hairdresser who had stepped from opposite when the captain marched
off.
'A few of him would open these cliffs and let in more houses and people.
God bless me! I never thought to sell it, and _yet_ he's got a bargain.'
'What's the article?' inquired the hairdresser.
'A bracelet. It's cost him forty-five guineas. I believe he'd have given
a hundred for it.'
'What is he, do you think?'
'A sailor, I should say.'
'Did he pay cash?'
'Bright cash.' And the jeweller, half-closing one eye, pulled out a
handful of glittering sovereigns, at which the hairdresser gazed with
admiration.
'Perhaps he's the gent that got himself lost in the Devil's Walk,' said
the hairdresser.
The jeweller smote his thigh and cried, 'That's it! And the bracelet's
gone to Miss Conway.'
Captain Jackman disappeared from their gaze. He turned the corner of the
long gap, which was scarcely made a street of by the row of houses on
top, and found on the right a short wooden wharf about whose piles the
seas were toiling. A number of fine fishing-boats lay off this wharf,
and rode the rolling comber with perfect grace to their anchors.
Westward, beyond this wharf, was a sort of natural harbour; but it was
evident that the place was only used by the men for convenience, and
that they landed their catches in other harbours.
'Well, what's doing here?' said Captain Jackman to a tall, powerfully
built seaman in the rough dress, heavy boots, belt, and hanging cap of
those times.
'There we are,' said the man, pointing to the smacks rolling broadside
on to the wharf.
'But do you fish in this part?' said the captain.
The strong man, with a face put together in pieces like masses of putty,
answered--
'We fish where we think there is anything to be caught.'
'What's the smuggler doing down here now?'
'Oh, they're all gone away to the east'ard!' answered the man, with a
note of indifference.
'But they thought well of this place once upon a time. Men must live to
learn that they're fools. Who would sail a hundred and fifty miles to
run a cargo when he may set it ashore on this coast with only the danger
of a third of the distance? Were you ever at sea as a sailor?' said the
captain.
The man smiled, and showed his immense yellow teeth, and, pulling off
his cap, combed down his grisly hair.
'I've served at sea on blue water thirty years. I've come to this
because I can earn more money by it. I've served in men-o'war and
merchantmen, and was second mate of the West Indiaman _Sirius_.'
'What's your name?' said the captain.
'Bill Hoey,' answered the man.
'Where do you live?'
The man gave his address, which Captain Jackman entered, along with the
name, in a pocket-book.
'Have you got any family?' said the captain.
'An old mother turned of ninety. I buried my sunshine twenty year ago.'
'How would you like to take a voyage with me in a fine brig?'
'On what errand?'
'Simply a voyage of discovery. We would discourse that matter on board,
when all hands were assembled.'
'How would you rate me?'
'Can you take the altitude of the sun?'
'Yes, sir.'
'You shall be my chief mate. I like your looks.'
The man grinned and said, 'How about the money, sir?'
'I am my own owner. There will be no difficulty about wages. Here's my
name and address.'
He scribbled them on a fly-leaf of his note-book, tore the leaf out, and
the man, after reading it, put it into his breast.
'If you know of other likely lads who have a fancy for a brisk and merry
voyage from London town to the Land of Romance, and who are willing to
count their pay in sovereigns instead of shillings, I shall feel obliged
to you,' said the captain.
Bill Hoey touched his cap. He was beginning to regard this gentleman
with admiration.
The captain stood bending his brows in a searching glance along the ten
or dozen men who were hanging about the wooden wharf, leaning against
the timber heads smoking and talking in growling notes; then with a
sharp 'Good day,' he whipped round and walked up the gap.
When he arrived on top of the cliffs, he turned to his left and walked a
couple of miles along the edge, pausing where a curve gave him a view of
the coast. He sought also with keen eyes inland. It was clear from his
looks, after he had turned on his heel and struck for the town, that
this place, or its vicinity, was not to his taste. He pulled out his
pipe and lighted it; but the brave wind, gushing in a blue fountain over
the edge of the cliff, made but a short smoke of it for him.
He amused himself in various ways that day, chiefly in asking questions
about the practices of the smugglers when they used these parts. He
gained a great deal of information from the bald-headed jeweller, whom
he saw leaning in his shop-door. He asked him if the bracelet had been
delivered, and they fell into conversation, watched by the hairdresser
opposite, who wished his father had bred him a jeweller.
This jeweller had much to tell of midnight affairs down on the wharf,
and landings contrived on the beach amidst a crackling of blunderbuss
and pistol. The revenue people, he said, had always been, as they still
were, as determined and heroic as their foemen.
'But,' said Captain Jackman, 'I am told that you have no revenue people
left here.'
The jeweller answered--
'There is one, I believe, paces the cliff side 'twixt----' And he named
two little places on the coast.
'That's to the east'ard,' said the captain.
'Yes, sir. For some unnameable reason, considering they had taken so
much trouble in the Devil's Walk, the whole body of the men sailed
east.'
'So that further west, and further west still,' said Captain Jackman,
'you'll scarcely find a look-out.'
'I doubt if you'd find one.'
'Why don't they run their goods west, then?' said the captain. 'No
look-out is what they want, isn't it?'
'They'd be watched and followed, sir. It is a difficult calling, full of
blood and murder. It don't seem worth while, for my part. Some comes off
with profits worth naming; but the gains on the whole are poor, and the
gibbet's rope is dangling over their heads all the time they're earning
their desperate living.'
'So it is,' said the captain, and he strolled across to his little inn.
At six o'clock the table was prepared, and Captain Jackman was awaiting
the arrival of his guests, who appeared on foot as the church clock
struck the hour. Miss Conway was rosy red; her first words were--
'Captain Jackman, I have not words to thank you. This is indeed a
glorious gift.' And throwing aside her mantle, she showed that she wore
the jewel on her left arm.
'I know not what the value of my life expresses, madam,' said Captain
Jackman, smiling as he perceived the bracelet. 'But if I had fifty lives
to save, each one, to put it prosaically, worth a thousand, that trinket
could not seem more shabby as an illustration of its worth than it now
is.'
'I did not think that our little town could have turned out so splendid
a piece of jewellery,' said the commander, looking around him,
particularly at the old prints of sea-fights. 'It is the handsomest
thing of the sort I ever saw, and my daughter should be obliged to ye.'
'She is, I assure you,' she exclaimed. 'On such charming conditions who
would object to release strangers from smugglers' tunnels?'
The landlady conducted Miss Conway upstairs, and she came down in a few
minutes, delightful in colour, stature, demeanour, and dress. She wore
her hair so that it fell thick and low on one side; the other side was
balanced by a handsome comb. A quantity of frills sat upon her neck and
shoulders, leaving exposed a portion of her white bosom, which was
further sweetened by the late beauty of an autumn flower.
They took their seats. A man waited. It was to be a good dinner, the
commander saw.
'I've been taking a look about your neighbourhood,' said Captain
Jackman. 'Very pretty, and the sea view spacious, but rather tame, I
fear.'
'Yes,' clipped in Miss Conway. 'Those who praise this place when the
summer is glowing with roses forget the seven months of winter, the
roaring chimneys, the eternal crash of sea, so cold that your marrow
hardens to it! You can't leave your house for the snow, nobody can come
to see you, and this is the life my father dedicates his only daughter
to!'
But she did not speak in temper. No swell of bosom or sparkle of eye
accompanied her words. It seemed indeed as if she merely coquetted with
the point, and Captain Jackman noticed it.
'The fact is,' said the commander, fastening his eye on Captain Jackman,
'I am too poor to live anywhere else.'
'I hate poverty,' exclaimed the captain, with a scowl; 'it is the most
detestable of human misfortunes. What is meant by being poor? To possess
all the desire without the capacity of enjoyment. Fortunately there is
no poverty at sea; money is not wanted. There is nothing to buy.'
'You shall not call yourself a poor man here, Captain Jackman,' said
Miss Conway, flashing an arch look at him.
'How is a man to make his fortune in this age,' continued the captain,
'now that the wars are ended, and there is nothing to be done in
buccaneering and the loose trades? What use, for example, can I put my
brig to?'
'You see,' said the commander, 'being a naval man I have very little
knowledge of the merchant side of the ocean life.'
'I shall sell her, she is of no use to me,' said the captain, looking at
Miss Conway.
'Is she fit to go to sea?' asked the girl.
'She wants about three hundred pounds spent upon her, and where am I to
get it?'
The young lady looked down with a face of remorse at the beautiful
bracelet upon her wrist. It was a speech in bad taste, yet it did not
lessen the beauty of his face nor the agreeable mystery he seemed to
carry with him.
'I doubt if you will stop here long,' said the commander. 'Any
sea-faring business brought you here, may I venture to ask?'
'None. Nothing but a wish to see if the smugglers had left some booty
behind them; and to lounge about this part of the land until my finances
advised me to arrive at a decision.'
'You should always be able to get command of a ship, Captain Jackman,'
said the girl.
'Not so easy now I have been dismissed for theft.'
'Oh no!' muttered the commander, 'dismissed for a misadventure. Had it
been theft, sir, you would not have been here, nor should we be enjoying
the splendid dinner you are giving us.'
He tippled down another glass of champagne. Very good champagne it was;
his eyes beamed with it and the port, and the hardness had dissolved
from his looks, and his face expressed the smiling side of him.
'They'll all understand what my discharge means,' said the captain. 'I
had served the owners with heroic honesty, having brought off their
lumbering merchantman from a very heavy ugly pirate, right amidships of
the Atlantic. We made a running fight of it, and I brought the rogue's
foretopgallant mast down. The villain rounded to, and my good friends'
bales and tea were saved.'
'They choose to forget that,' said Miss Conway warmly.
'A shipowner,' said the captain, in a soft voice, addressing himself to
the girl, 'is by birth a scoundrel, who will not forgive you one
error--one oversight'--his forefinger flew up in seeming passion--'be
your record the most dutiful, honourable, and lucrative of them all.'
'I can believe it,' said the commander, with a loud laugh; 'and yet you
are for choosing the red flag instead of my own glorious colour.'
'How long were you at sea last voyage?' asked Miss Conway, whilst the
captain gloomily gazed at the commander.
'Twenty-four months.'
'And you have had command in other ships?' she said.
'In several,' he answered.
'You are a young man,' she exclaimed, whilst her eyes lingered upon his
face with evident delight, 'to have been in command so long.'
'Shall I tell you a secret, madam?' said he, smiling. 'In fact, shall I
tell you my age? Then learn it by this, that I was twenty when I first
took charge of a ship.'
'Very young and very creditable. It works you out at about thirty,' said
the commander.
The captain bowed as if to a sentence of kindness.
He dined them as sumptuously as the shops of that place could provide:
and after dinner they went upstairs to a spinet, where Miss Conway gave
them some music. She played very prettily, and sang also. But her
singing was not of the fine quality you would have expected in a girl
who possessed a voice. Captain Jackman's eyes were riveted to her all
the while she sat at the spinet; and he declined to give heed when the
sturdy old commander slung a question across the room to him in the
midst of his daughter's performance. A strange old room in a vanished
inn! You can dine on the site, but not in the house. It was probably
then a hundred years old, was low pitched, wainscot bright with time,
ceiling covered with carvings of flying Cupids and fruits, and the
furniture was in keeping, dull, dim, and dusty.
Thus they amused themselves till about half-past eight, during which
time the commander and Captain Jackman drank some hot whisky-and-water.
They then lighted their pipes and sallied forth, the commander pausing
in the bar to sing out in a deep bass voice--
'A very good dinner, Mrs. Davis. I would never wish to sit down to a
better.'
The good woman, who had really done her best, dropped curtseys in the
fine old English style, coming round out of the bar that she might
continue to curtsey, until the lady and gentlemen were in the street.
Commander Conway was by no means anxious that Captain Jackman should see
them home; he felt sure he must be tired; he had been on his legs all
day; it was a long walk, and then there was the walk back. The captain
said he would accompany them part of the way only, and strode on the
young lady's left, where the beautiful bracelet was. They talked
together, and the commander did not seem to greatly heed; in truth the
coming out into this strong fresh air had a little staggered his senses.
'Ours, Captain Jackman, has been a strange meeting,' said the girl. 'I
shall never cease praising my judgment for taking a walk on the sands
that morning.'
'I owe my life to you,' said he, in a low, somewhat impassioned voice,
'and mean to keep it for you. Let you marry whom you will, I marry no
one but you.'
At this extraordinary speech she walked a little fast, so as to carry
her ahead; but she fell back easily into her place, whilst her father on
the other side of the captain was singing, 'The Bowline's Hauled.'
'I would rather not talk of anything of this sort at present,' said the
girl, after a prolonged pause. 'You are not, I hope, returning _very_
soon?'
'Not too soon,' he answered.
'What's that light out there?' shouted the commander, pointing to the
dark and troubled slope of sea.
'A flare of distress,' answered the captain.
They stood looking, talking about the light, which presently
disappeared, and when they walked on all three chatted. The conversation
was general until Captain Jackman bade farewell to them about half a
mile distant from the commander's house.
'I don't like him. I can't make up my mind to like him,' said the
commander, as he trudged with a roll forward towards the square shadow
where his own square shadow lived. 'He is liberal with his gifts, and
gives a good dinner.'
'And for that he is to be abused!' exclaimed the girl. 'Considering he
is a sailor, he is the most perfect gentleman I ever met; much more so
than the rough and cursing creatures you meet with in the navy. He has a
beautiful face, and his attention to me that night in the tunnel never
shall I forget while my heart beats. You don't seem either to much value
the life of your child in your abuse of the man.'
The commander trudged on more rapidly. He was sleepy, and besides, Miss
Conway, imperious, sarcastic, overbearing, always conquered the square
little fellow, whatever might prove the discussion.
Now for the next two days nothing was seen of Captain Jackman. Miss
Conway was mortified and astonished. Could it be possible that the giver
of the magnificent bracelet, the partner in their tragic experience
under earth, the man who had cleverly run acquaintance into friendship
in a single day through a hospitable and sparkling occasion; could this
man, after what he had said to her last night, have slunk away on the
coach for a fresh destination, contenting himself with having made a
fool of another girl and paid a fair price for his valuable life?
She walked down the one street, and in and out of it. She walked on to
the wharf. She strolled where she thought she would meet him.
If it is false that a girl cannot fall in love at sight with a handsome
man, then this tale is a lie, for assuredly Miss Conway could not have
been more in love with Captain Jackman had they been betrothed a year.
On the third day, however, she was standing at her bedroom window, which
gave a clear view of the reach to the crazy rail of the smugglers' hole,
when she saw a figure wrapped in a cloak pass the house within gunshot.
He did not seem to notice the house, but walked straight on, making
apparently for the Devil's Walk. Her heart beat a little fast. She knew
him. Should she go out and meet him, and challenge his reason for not
calling and proving himself as friendly as he was on the first day?
She was a young woman with a character as hard as the rock she dwelt on,
and she was perfectly fearless in the execution of her ideas. She had
been pining for this man. He was out yonder walking. She wanted him; so
she put on her hat, left the house, and followed him.
As she stepped into the road Mrs. Porter came along. Mrs. Porter was a
tall, stately, stout lady, the widow of an admiral. She was the very
last person that Ada could have wished to see just then.
'Ah, my dear Miss Conway,' she cried, 'I have been on the look-out for
you, and meant to have called this very afternoon. What can you tell me
about your wonderful night in the Devil's Walk? And what has become of
the beautiful young man you were locked up with? Oh, fie!'
She shook her head with a succession of odd smirks, and continued--
'They're all saying, if he is a gentleman and can support you, you must
marry him.'
'If you knew how I detest the opinions of people you would not force
them upon me,' said Ada Conway, looking very darkly at stout Mrs.
Porter, and then casting a glance of blazing impatience in the direction
of the cloaked figure that seemed to be making for the smugglers' trap.
'But wasn't it shocking?' continued Mrs. Porter, 'without a light, alone
with a man whom you had not seen!'
'But you know the story,' said Ada, with a trifle of arch sarcasm in her
tone; 'why do you want it over again, good Mrs. Porter?'
'We love to drink from the original spring, that was the admiral's
favourite saying. Never trust a story or a report, he would say; go and
talk to the man who figured in it.'
'Well, I shall be seeing you this afternoon perhaps, Mrs. Porter;
meanwhile I'm off for a walk, far beyond your ambling paces; so
farewell.'
She blew the old lady a kiss in the most gracious style of that age,
then swept away without another word.
The commander, standing in his window, caught sight of her, and rushed
round out of doors slap into the arms of Mrs. Porter.
'Why, commander,' began the lady, 'this is an unexpected pleasure
indeed.'
'Hi! Ada, where are you going?' shouted the old seaman, in his roughest
voice.
Ada half turned her face and made an ironic flourish of farewell, but
spoke no word.
'She's after that man,' said the commander, with a black look in the
direction of the becloaked figure. 'She's fallen head over heels in love
with him, and he must either be forced out of the place or----'
'What, Captain Conway--do say what?' cried Mrs. Porter.
'Or battened down in the Devil's Walk to cry again from help for another
pretty woman.'
'Give that out, and the sands will not want paraders,' said humorous
Mrs. Porter.
They stood conversing. The commander was detained by the lady who would
have hindered Ada. So even Mrs. Porters have their uses. Meanwhile the
girl, whose heart her father knew, rough old seaman as he was, was
stepping out briskly, literally in chase of the man she was determined
to have a meeting with. She was only slightly vexed that her father had
seen him pass; she would rather her father had been asleep in an
armchair, or shaving himself in his bedroom, which did not overlook
Captain Jackman. Jackman took the ground with an actor's tread; her
pursuit carried the sound of her footsteps to his ears; he turned,
looked, started with pleasure and astonishment, and ran forward to meet
the young lady.
'I am surprised,' she cried, with her face red as fire, 'that you should
think it friendly to stay away from our house for two days, never to
inquire how I was after that barbarous night underground, and now to
give the go-by to our home.'
He held her hand whilst she spoke, and answered, 'I was away yesterday,
madam; but in any case I should not have called. I saw dislike in your
father's face.'
'My father dislikes everything that is not aged and rotten. He buys old
books, and if they're printed in characters he can't read, so much the
better. He believes in the ships of a hundred years ago, and laughs with
a sneer at the line-of-battle ships of to-day. He has lived for years a
stagnant life; it is a pond on which all sorts of ugly weeds grow and
blow. Do not concern yourself with his dislike. Where are you going?'
'I was going merely for a stroll as far as the entrance to the Devil's
Walk. Frankly, in expectation of meeting you,' he answered, with his
eyes filled with active love fastened upon hers.
The colour sank out of her face when she noticed that look. She was
loved, and the truth went to her heart.
'We will walk as far as the smugglers' hole and then return,' said she,
taking possession of him with an easy spirit that made him adore her
grace, and wonder where she had learnt her engaging airs.
'Where did you go yesterday?'
'To a little village ten miles down the coast,' he answered. 'Did you
notice the other night as we walked home the light of a flare upon the
sea?'
'Yes.'
'Well, it proved, as I suspected, a distress signal. It was burnt on a
roughly constructed raft which managed, by dint of boards and other
contrivances, to strand itself in safety. They were eight men. I heard
the tale in your town. They were smugglers who had lost their vessel by
a butt-end starting. They trudged to the little village and were put up
there, and are still there.'
'Are you a smuggler?' she exclaimed, looking with vivid keenness into
his face.
'I am Captain Jackman,' he answered, bowing and laughing. 'No smuggler,
but no scorner of the trade. I went yesterday to see those men, and
think that I have secured the services of five of the stoutest of them.'
'What! for smuggling, Captain Jackman?'
'No, for a sweeter, swifter, and richer pursuit, madam, which I would
whisper in your ear with feverish delight, sure of your sympathy and
approval, if this hand'--he took it--'were mine.'
She began to tremble. She was being made love to in reality. She was a
little frightened. Greatly she enjoyed the situation she had placed
herself in, and said, with her head hanging down--
'My father must know what we do.'
'You want me to consult with him about our marriage?'
'Oh, not so fast, Captain Jackman,' she exclaimed, colouring with
delight at his impetuosity.
'He will never give his consent,' he said. 'He doesn't like merchantmen.
He hates poor men, and so I do. He'll talk of our three or four days of
acquaintanceship, and heap every objection he can find and create.'
'And then,' said the girl, speaking firmly, with her face of beauty
improved with an expression of decision almost feverish in its impulse,
'there is a second road.' She looked at him boldly.
'Why not take that second road at once?' he exclaimed softly, passing
his arm through hers; and the love-sick girl let it lie there, and
cherished it.
'No, Captain Jackman----'
'Walter.'
'Walter, then, we will be truthful and above-board; you shall go and
ask my father's consent and answer his questions. He may not refuse.
That would be so much better. For him now, and for memory for us in
after years.'
'I would do whatever you wish. I have no queen but you,' answered
Captain Jackman, who certainly was as much in love with the girl as she
with him.
'How long are you stopping in this place?' she asked.
'I am at your service,' he replied.
'Well,' said she, speaking rapidly, 'we must be seen together for some
days. You must call upon the commander and talk of anything but me. Then
come when I am in the house by pre-arrangement, and the matter can be
dealt with. Meanwhile I should like to know your reason for picking up
sailors.'
'I have a scheme in my head,' he answered.
'So I suppose,' she replied; 'and I engage that it concerns your brig.'
'You are a witch, miss,' he exclaimed, smiling at her. 'Of course, the
knowing that I am here seeking sailors did not put that into your head.'
'I knew nothing about that until just now,' she answered; 'but fancies
rose in my head when you talked of the brig whilst we were together.'
They approached, and stood at the broken rail that fenced the stone.
'I hope you are not going below!' cried Miss Conway, flashing her eyes
with command upon him. 'If you do, I protest I will bolt you down and
leave another to release you. How many candles have you got?'
'I am not going to enter those caverns, believe me,' he answered. 'At
the same time, I am wondering whether I could find an abandoned cave
along this cliff with an outlet to the sea. There should be plenty. I do
not want to go east; I mean to give the Downs, with the shipping and the
men-of-war, a wide berth. Have you ever heard of such a cave?'
'Never. It may be found,' she answered. 'So you are going to turn
smuggler? I could not marry a man whose body might be hanging in air
within a month of the wedding.'
'I vow I am not going to turn smuggler. I purpose something infinitely
more noble and more shining. I am a decayed gentleman, and a decayed
gentleman must live. They won't find me a berth ashore, so I must go to
sea, where I intend, in my brig, in a week or ten days, or say three
weeks, to make a fortune.'
'Father can never object to that scheme,' exclaimed the girl; 'he
admires commercial adventures, and would greatly respect you for loading
your ship and sailing in search of fortune.'
They continued to converse as they walked in the direction of the
commander's house. Captain Jackman was mysterious, but his looks were
eloquent. Ada's eyes dredged the captain's face for a hint, but got no
idea. Suddenly he paused, and said--
'Here we must part.'
'In view of my father's house! Certainly not. You will step in, Walter,
and dine with us.'
He seemed to shrink, with smiles full of courtesy.
'Oh,' said she, lightly catching hold of his cloak and bearing him
towards the cottage, 'you are refusing a lady. I know you have no other
engagement. Pray step in, and dine with us.'
Almost unconsciously the stouthearted, manly, handsome Captain Jackman
found himself in the commander's garden, walking towards the commander's
house; and now there was the commander himself approaching them from his
back garden, wearing carpet slippers and holding a broom, with which he
had been attending to his fowls.
'Oh, good morning, Captain Jackman,' he shouted, as if he were hailing
the mast-head of a ship. 'Those Devil's Walks of ours seem to have
exercised a pleasant fascination over your mind.'
'What do you think, father? Captain Jackman was actually passing this
house not long ago without intending to call.'
'Captain Jackman's ideas of reserve may be different from yours,' said
the commander.
'Yes,' she cried quickly; 'and after luncheon I am going to show him
about the place.'
'The place' was to be viewed, every street and alley, in an hour, and
Captain Jackman had now been some three or four days in these parts
exploring. The commander stared at the cool turn his daughter gave to
things, and muttering, 'Oh yes, sir; you'll stop to lunch, I hope,
you'll stop to lunch,' he shuffled out on his slippered feet to put away
his broom.