Freda went through the secret door the second time with more bravery
then she had felt on the first occasion. For although she was bound on
an expedition the dangers of which it was impossible to deny, she had
now at least some knowledge of the risks she ran; and she was
fortified by the belief that, even if she should not see him, her
father would be about, within call perhaps, if she should run any
danger from his rough associates. So she crept down into the room in
which she had before hidden herself, very softly, listening as she
went.
She could hear no sound. Her father had disappeared, leaving the light
lowered. She crossed the floor almost on tip-toe, and peeped down
through the opening. It was quite dark down there now; she could not
even see the table round which the men had sat. She raised her head
again and looked round her. She must go into that cellar, but she
dared not go without a light. Becoming used to the silence, and
feeling more secure, she began to make a tour of the room, hunting and
groping very carefully. For, she thought, there must certainly be
lanterns about somewhere; they would be a necessary part of a
smuggler’s stock-in-trade. And truly, when she did at last stumble
upon the right quarters, she found a selection of lanterns which would
have equipped the band twice over. They were stored in a
corner-cupboard, and were of all shapes and sizes, some old, battered
and useless, some new and untried. Freda made a careful choice, fitted
her lantern with a candle which she found in a box on a shelf, and
helped herself to a box of matches. Then she returned to the opening
in the floor, threw down the rope-ladder, and began the descent.
To the lame girl, quite unaccustomed to adventures of this sort, this
part of the journey was neither easy nor pleasant. Her trembling feet
only found firm footing on each succeeding rung after much futile
swinging to and fro, desperate clinging to the swaying ropes, and
nervous fears that her protruding foot would be caught by a rough hand
from below. But she reached the cellar-floor in safety, and proceeded
to light her lantern. Then she took a survey of the room.
It was large, lofty, stone-walled, and very cold. There was an
oil-stove in one corner, but it was not burning. There were no stores
of tobacco or spirits kept here, only lumber of ship’s gear, broken
oars, coils of rope, some ends of rusty chain and such like. Freda,
after a hasty inspection, proceeded to the corner where the men had
disappeared. Here there was a large opening in the floor, from which a
damp, earthy smell rose as she stooped to examine it. Freda could have
no doubt that this was the entrance to a subterranean passage.
She drew back in horror which made her cold and wet from head to foot.
Could she dare to trust herself alone in the very bowels of the earth,
away from all hope of help if one of the rough and brutal men she had
seen that evening should meet her?
She hesitated.
Then she thought of poor John Thurley, who had been so good to her:
perhaps he was even then lying stunned or dead on the scaur, struck
down by one of her father’s servants in evil. Ashamed of her
hesitation, fired with the determination to try to save him, she
dropped on to her knees, covered her face with her hands, and prayed
for strength and courage. Then she sprang up, boldly grasped her
crutch in her right hand and her lantern in her left, and plunged into
the passage with rapid steps.
There were a few worn stone steps to begin with, then a gentle slope,
and then a long, straight run. The passage was narrow and walled with
stones, old and green with damp. At frequent intervals air and
daylight were let in through small iron gratings which seemed to be a
very long way overhead. It was not difficult to breathe, and the
passage being stoned-paved and drained, the way so far was smooth and
easy. Freda did not know how long she had been down there nor how far
she had gone, when she became aware that the ground was sloping up
again. Then came a flight of steps upwards. At the top of these steps
Freda found herself in a very small octagonal chamber, which contained
part of a broken stone spiral staircase, going upwards. Behind this
staircase there was another large hole in the ground.
Freda guessed that she must be on the ground-floor of one of the
towers of the Abbey-church. In the wall in front of her was a stout
wooden door, which was ajar. She pushed it softly, guessing from this
circumstance that there must be some one about. Putting her head
through the aperture, she saw that she was in the western tower of the
north transept of the ruined church. She thought she heard a man’s
voice softly whistling to himself, but it did not sound very near, so
she ventured to push the door open a little further and to slip
through.
A clear, white moon, not long risen, was beginning to shine on the old
pile, and to cast long lines of bright light and black shade between
the old arches. To Freda the beautiful sight gave a fresh horror. How
dared these men ply their wicked trade in the very shelter of these
holy walls? She crept out, feeling more secure while she stood on this
sacred ground, and treading with noiseless footsteps down the
grass-grown nave, peeped through the broken window through which
Robert Heritage had come to speak to her. She could trace in the
moonlight the foot-path through the meadow outside to the outer wall,
and beyond that she could just see a horse’s ears, and a whip standing
up in such a fashion as to convince her that it was in a cart. She
waited without a sound while she heard the soft whistling nearer and
nearer, and then, peeping through the loose stones, she saw stolid
Josiah Kemm, walking slowly to and fro under the church walls, with
his hands behind him. He saw her immediately, and started forward to
find out who was watching him.
Freda was ready for him, however; the risks and excitement of the
adventure had made her quick-witted. She drew herself from a crouching
attitude to her full height, and said, in a clear voice:
“Is it you, Josiah Kemm?”
The man did not answer; he made a step back, taken by surprise. She
continued:
“I think you must have heard of me. I am Captain Mulgrave’s daughter.”
He touched his hat rather surlily, and seemed restless, as if
uncertain what she knew, or how he ought to treat her.
“Why are you not waiting in the court-yard?” she asked with an
inspiration. “You take your cart in there generally, don’t you?”
She thought that if she could persuade him that she knew all about his
business, she could perhaps learn from him by what way she could get
down to the scaur. Her confident tone had the desired effect. After a
few minutes’ hesitation, during which Freda pretended to be
unconcerned, but felt sick with anxiety, he answered:
“Well, noa; generally is a big word. Ah do soometoimes go into t’
yard, but more often Ah weait here.” He paused, but as his hearer took
care to show no deep interest, he presently went on: “Ye see, it
depends whether Ah teake t’ stuff streight from t’ boat, or whether Ah
have to teake what’s stored in t’ Abbey.”
“I see. If you take what is stored up, the cart waits under the
gallery window in the courtyard.”
“Aye. An’ Crispin Bean brings oop t’ stuff, an’ thraws it aht.”
“While if you take it straight from the boat----?”
“Why, Ah weait here, and when they’ve hauled it oop t’ cliff and
brought it along t’ first passage, they bring it oop to me, instead o’
teaking it along t’ other passage into t’ Abbey.”
“Aren’t you afraid of people passing late, who might see your cart and
wonder why it was so often standing there?”
Kemm shook his head decidedly, with a dry laugh.
“Noa, missie. T’ fowk hereabout’s all on our soide.”
“Oh,” said Freda.
She was wondering now how she should make her escape and find the
second passage; that which, by Kemm’s account, led down to the beach.
He himself unwittingly came to her succour.
“Ah thowt Ah heerd summat!” he suddenly exclaimed.
He gave a low, long whistle, but there was no reply. So without
heeding Freda, who had succeeded in making him believe that she was in
the secrets of the gang, he got through the ruined window, and went to
the tower in the north transept. Freda hopped after him as quickly as
she could. He pushed open the door, and going to the hole under the
broken staircase, called down it, and whistled. There was no answering
sound.
“False alarm!” said he, as he stepped again out into the transept.
But Freda had disappeared. She had followed him into the tower, and
having blown out her lantern, crouched on the lowest stair until she
found herself alone again. Then, waiting until Kemm’s voice, still
calling to her, sounded a long way off, she relighted her candle, ran
to the hole, and seeing a ladder in it, went down without delay. The
underground passage into which this led her was very different from
that which led from the church to the Abbey-house. As a matter of
fact, the latter was of very ancient origin, having been carefully
built and paved, six hundred years ago, as a private way for the Abbot
between his house and the church. The passage which led from the
church to the cliff, however, was an entirely modern and base
imitation, dug and cut roughly out of the red clay and hard rock of
which the cliffs were composed, ill-drained, ill-ventilated, almost
impassable here and there through the slipping of great masses of the
soft red clay. From time to time Freda, hurrying and stumbling along
as best she could, now ankle-deep in sticky mud, now hurting her feet
against loose stones, saw a faint gleam of moonlight above her, let
in, as in the other passage, through a narrow grating, which would
pass on the surface of the ground for the entrance to a drain. At last
the passage widened suddenly, and she found herself in a low-roofed
cave, partly natural, partly artificial, with a narrow opening, not
looking straight out to sea, but towards a jutting point of the cliff.
Here Freda paused for a moment, afraid that some one might start up
from one of the dark corners. But the total silence reassured her.
There was a lantern hanging on the rough wall, and there was a bench
on which lay some clothes. On the floor a few planks had been laid
down side by side, with a worn and damp straw mat, evidently used for
removing from the boots of the gang the clay collected on the way
through the passage.
But the most noteworthy objects in the cave were a strong iron bar
which was fixed from rock to rock across the mouth, to which a rope
ladder was fastened, which hung down the surface of the cliff, and a
windlass fastened firmly in the ground, by which, as Freda guessed,
bales of smuggled tobacco and kegs of contraband spirit, were hauled
up from the scaur below. She crept to the entrance and peeped out.
The moon was not yet fully risen, but there was light enough for the
girl to make out the admirable position of this den above the water.
Not only was the opening invisible from the sea, except for a little
space close in shore where even small boats scarcely ventured, but it
was also hidden from any one on the rocky beach below or on the cliff
above by jutting points of rock; while a perpendicular slab of rock,
descending sheer to the scaur beneath it, made it quite inaccessible
from below except by the means the smugglers used.
After waiting a few minutes, and peering down on to the rocks below
without hearing the least sound except the splash of the incoming
tide, Freda resolved to descend, and take her chance of being seen.
She must find out if John Thurley was there, and if any harm had come
to him.