"But now we go,
See, see we go,
To the deepest caves below."
Dibdin.
Scene: The interior of a cave on a lonely hillside; a huge fire of wood
and peat is burning in a kind of recess hewn from the solid rock. A
large cauldron is boiling over it, and the smoke and flames are roaring
up the chimney. Wild-looking men, unkempt and unshorn, are eating and
drinking on stone benches around the cave. There is a big oil lamp
hanging from the roof, and that and the firelight shed a dim uncertain
light throughout the cave.
"And so," said one of the men, who appeared to be captain of this gang
of smugglers, "Captain Bland and his fellows have promised to be here
to-night."
"That is what he told me," said another. "The lugger has been dodging
off and on the coast for days, and there is a sloop all ready down at
the steps near St. Abb's waiting to take the stuff off."
"Well," said the first speaker, "it is long past midnight, and as dark
as pitch. No bothering moon to-night to interfere with the work. We
should turn a pretty penny by this cargo. Ha! ha!" he laughed, "you
Scotchmen didn't know how to work the oracle on this hillside till we
Saxons crossed the border and showed you. Scotchmen are--"
Five men sprang to their feet in a moment, and dirks were flashing in
the lamplight.
"Hold, you scoundrels, hold!" cried a tall and handsome man in the garb
of a sailor, rushing into the cave, and throwing himself, sword in hand,
between the belligerents.
"What!" he continued, "quarrelling when we should be busy at work. I
came in good time, it seems."
The Scotchmen sheathed their dirks, but sulkily.
"Right, Captain Bland," said Rob McLure, "only Long Bill there thought
fit to insult us wi' his Saxon brag. We had the cave afore him, and did
weel in it, and we're independent yet, and fit to clear the English
bodies out o' the country, tho' we're but five and they are two to one--
ay, and give their bodies to the corbies to pick."
"Bill," said Captain Bland, "you began this unseemly squabble; it is for
you to apologise."
"I do so heartily," said Bill; "I bear no grudge against the Scotch."
"Nor I, nor I, nor I," cried half-a-dozen voices. Then hands were
shaken all round, and peace restored.
Bland pitched down his cap--long black ringlets floating over his
shoulder as he did so--and sank into a seat, as if weary.
"Give me food and drink; the long walk has quite tired me. Your
Scottish hills, McLure, are hard on Saxon legs. By the way," he added,
"two of my fellows are outside, and they've caught a couple of gipsy
creatures; they may or may not be spies. Bring them in, the little ones
may be cold and hungry."
In a minute more Leonard and poor Effie stood trembling before the
smuggler chief.
We left them about three days ago in a lovely wood, with the greenery of
trees, the song of birds, sunshine, and flowers all around them. They
had gone to the Hall, as the young ladies called their home, and had
created quite a sensation.
There was such an air of romance about the whole affair that everybody
at the great house was charmed with them. Leonard and Effie were the
hero and heroine of that evening, at all events, while Ossian made
himself quite at home on the hearthrug, very much to the disgust of a
beautiful Persian cat, whose place he had coolly usurped.
The young ladies again cross-questioned the little wanderers, in the
prettiest and most insinuating way possible, but succeeded in obtaining
no further information. But Effie read their fortunes without having
her hand crossed with either gold or silver. No prince on
gaily-caparisoned palfrey was to come riding to the Hall to beg for the
hand of either, nor soldiers with sword and spear and nodding plumes
come riding their way. Effie disposed of both in quite a humdrum
fashion, which, although it did not please the young ladies, set every
one in the room laughing at their expense. Their future spouses would
be celebrated rather for negative than positive virtues.
"For neither would be guilty of any great crime,
Such as murder, rebellion, or arson;
_One_ lady would wed with a wealthy old squire,
And the other would marry the parson."
Leonard and Effie left the Hall that night, and a powdered servant
carried a hamper to the caravan. Both insisted on bidding their kindly
entertainers good-bye that night, saying it was certain they would be
off very early next morning.
And so they were, long before a single wreath of smoke had begun to
up-curl from even the kitchen chimneys of the great Hall.
The weather had continued fine, and although the nights were very dark,
the wanderers did not mind that a bit, because they could hide their
caravan under trees, so that, although they could see no one
approaching, no one could see them. In two days' time they bivouacked
for the night near the cave in which we now find them prisoners, the
faithful dog standing guard by their side.
About sunset they had started off to climb the hill, which was very
high. They lost their way coming back, and got belated. Where they had
wandered to they never knew. But much to their sorrow they were met and
captured by these terrible men, who looked so fierce and ugly that Effie
was afraid to let her eyes rest upon them.
Captain Bland asked them many questions, which Leonard answered
faithfully and truthfully. Then a consultation was held in a corner of
the cave. Captain Bland soon returned.
"Now, young squire," he said. "We have made up our minds what we are
going to do with you."
"I hope, sir," said Leonard, boldly, "you will send Effie home, even if
you kill me."
The smuggler smiled.
"We won't have any killing in the matter, but just answer me one
question now, for you are too brave a lad to tell a lie. What do you
think we are?"
"Why, smugglers, of course," replied Leonard. "I have often read of
such people as you. Those men make whisky in the cave, and you take it
away in a ship and sell it."
"I see you know about all. Yes, I take this whisky away in a ship to
France, where they make it into brandy, and then I bring it back and
sell it. Well, you've seen so much, and know so much, that I'm going to
take you and your sister away in my ship with me."
"And Ossian?" said Effie, anxiously.
"Well, he can go too. I couldn't make you into brandy," he continued,
laughing, "else I would, but we will turn you into gold."
"Oh, sir!" said Effie, with round wondering eyes.
"Don't be afraid, little Red Riding-Hood. I'm not going to eat you, and
you won't be hurt, and in good time I trust you will be landed once
again at your father's house. Now keep your minds easy. There is a
room in there with plenty of skins and plaids, and a lamp burning, where
you can sleep soundly and safely till morning."
"Pray, sir, what about Don and our caravan?"
"I'm going to send one of our brave and gallant fellows back with it to
your father's house."
"Oh! tell him to haste then, and to be so good to Don," Effie implored.
"There, there, my little maiden, go to bed, and all will be right."
The apartment into which this robber captain showed them was well
removed from the larger cave. The passage that led to it was so
concealed by a door, painted and fashioned so as to resemble the rocks,
that no one could have guessed at its existence.
Having bade them good-night, and wished them sound repose and pleasant
dreams, Captain Bland left them, and they now began to gaze around them
and wonder. Although lofty, it was by no means a very large apartment,
but it was furnished in a style of luxuriance that quite astonished our
little wanderers. The walls were draped all round with tapestry, the
floor covered with thick soft carpets; there were chairs and couches,
and a library of books, near which stood a harp, while the light from
coloured lamps diffused a soft radiance around. Nor had creature
comforts been forgotten, for here, on a little sideboard, stood a joint
of meat, a game pasty, and cruets of wine.
"You heard what the robber captain said, didn't you, Effie? We are
quite safe, and I'm hungry. Sit in, Eff, and have some supper. This
pasty tastes splendid."
For a time, however, Effie could not be prevailed upon to eat, but she
finally relented so far as to taste a tiny morsel. Then, as eating only
wants a beginning, she allowed Leonard to help her freely.
In about half an hour the door of the apartment was opened after a
knock, the curtain that hid it was drawn aside, and Captain Bland
himself came in.
"Ha!" he said, "I'm glad to see you enjoying yourselves. I'm going
away."
Effie's face fell, and he noticed it.
"Not for long, my little Red Riding-Hood," he said, kindly. "I'll be
back early in the morning. I only came to tell you that if you want
anything, you are to go to the door at the other end of the passage, and
knock. Don't be afraid. You are quite safe. Good-night, again."
"Leonard," said Effie, "that is a good robber, and I'm sorry he has
gone. He puts me in mind of the story of the good robber in the Babes
in the Wood. I hope there isn't a bad robber, though, who will want to
kill us."
"We must say our prayers, Eff, and never fear."
"I wish though, Leonie, that we had not come away so far from home
gipsying. Poor papa and mamma--what will they think?"
About two hours afterwards, when both were sound asleep, they were
suddenly awakened by a noise in the room. They started from their
couches and looked about, Effie terribly frightened, and Leonard just a
little. It was a stone dropped from the roof, and there it lay.
"Hist!" cried a voice from above, in a loud whisper, "are you asleep?"
"No," from Leonard. "Who is it, and where are you?"
"Don't be afraid; it's only Zella, the little gipsy lass you saw in the
woods when her granny was dying. I am up here outside on the hill,
talking down to you through a little hole."
"Can you take us away out of this place?" asked Leonard.
"No, no, no. I could not even come to you, and if they found me here
they would kill me."
"Well, why did you come?"
"To help you, if possible."
"What can you do?"
"I can take your donkey and cart, and drive away to your home--I know
where it is--and get assistance."
"But they are going to take us away in a ship."
"Well, you are safe, so far, only don't say I came."
"Oh no!" said Leonard. "We are so thankful. Take poor Don, and hurry
away. He will be safe with you."
"Yes, and I'll be so good to him."
"Good-night."
"Good-night."
The strangest part, reader, about this little interview, if so it could
be called, was that Ossian had never even barked or growled, but lay
looking very wise and wagging his long tail.
"I'm sure," said Effie, "she is a good girl, else Ossian would have been
angry."
They slept again more soundly now, and it was far into the next day
before they awoke. Perhaps they would not have wakened even then, had
not a knocking at the door aroused them.
"Are you all alive, little ones? Breakfast is waiting."
It was Captain Bland's voice.
"Yes, thank you," cried Leonard; "we'll soon come out."
Having finished their toilets, with all speed they hastened to the large
cave.
"My men have all gone--only myself here," said the robber chief, as
Effie called him. "Now, dears, eat heartily; you have a long journey
before you. By-the-bye, your donkey wandered away somewhere by himself
last night. Very likely some farmer has found him. But my men have
been sent to look everywhere about, and it is sure to be all right."
The journey was indeed a long one, for it was nearly evening before they
arrived at a little village near the sea. The captain took them into an
inn there, and they had an excellent supper, the smuggler chief telling
them stories that made them laugh.
"I suppose," said Leonard, quite bravely, "there is not much chance of
our escaping?"
"Not much," said Captain Bland, laughing. "You're going to kidnap us,
aren't you?"
"Well, I daresay that is just the word, young sir. And now, if you're
finished, we'll march; the boat is waiting."
Once on board the lugger, sail was set immediately, with neither noise
nor shouting, and away southward through the darkness, with the stars
overhead and the black waves all around, went the smuggler's lugger
_Sea-horse_.
Book 1--CHAPTER SEVEN.