No one was there.
And then suddenly I saw that a long slip of paper was protruding through
the slit of the door. I held it to the light. In rude but vigorous
handwriting the message ran:—
“Put them out on the doorstep and save your skin.”
“What do they want?” I asked, as I read him the message.
“What they’ll never ’ave! No, by the Lord, never!” he cried, with a fine
burst of spirit. “’Ere, Enoch! Enoch!”
The old fellow came running to the call.
“Enoch, I’ve been a good master to you all my life, and it’s your turn
now. Will you take a risk for me?”
I thought better of my uncle when I saw how readily the man consented.
Whomever else he had wronged, this one at least seemed to love him.
“Put your cloak on and your ‘at, Enoch, and out with you by the back
door. You know the way across the moor to the Purcells’. Tell them that
I must ’ave the cart first thing in the mornin’, and that Purcell must
come with the shepherd as well. We must get clear of this or we are
done. First thing in the mornin’, Enoch, and ten pound for the job. Keep
the black cloak on and move slow, and they will never see you. We’ll
keep the ’ouse till you come back.”
It was a job for a brave man to venture out into the vague and invisible
dangers of the fell, but the old servant took it as the most ordinary of
messages. Picking his long, black cloak and his soft hat from the hook
behind the door, he was ready on the instant. We extinguished the small
lamp in the back passage, softly unbarred the back door, slipped him
out, and barred it up again. Looking through the small hall window, I
saw his black garments merge instantly into the night.
“It is but a few hours before the light comes, nephew,” said my uncle,
after he had tried all the bolts and bars. “You shall never regret this
night’s work. If we come through safely it will be the making of you.
Stand by me till mornin’, and I stand by you while there’s breath in my
body. The cart will be ’ere by five. What isn’t ready we can afford to
leave be’ind. We’ve only to load up and make for the early train at
Congleton.”
“Will they let us pass?”
“In broad daylight they dare not stop us. There will be six of us, if
they all come, and three guns. We can fight our way through. Where can
they get guns, common, wandering seamen? A pistol or two at the most. If
we can keep them out for a few hours we are safe. Enoch must be ’alfway
to Purcell’s by now.”
“But what do these sailors want?” I repeated. “You say yourself that you
wronged them.”
A look of mulish obstinacy came over his large, white face.
“Don’t ask questions, nephew, and just do what I ask you,” said he.
“Enoch won’t come back. ’e’ll just bide there and come with the cart.
’Ark, what is that?”
A distant cry rang from out of the darkness, and then another one, short
and sharp like the wail of the curlew.
“It’s Enoch!” said my uncle, gripping my arm. “They’re killin’ poor old
Enoch.”
The cry came again, much nearer, and I heard the sound of hurrying steps
and a shrill call for help.
“They are after ’im!” cried my uncle, rushing to the front door. He
picked up the lantern and flashed it through the little shutter. Up the
yellow funnel of light a man was running frantically, his head bowed and
a black cloak fluttering behind him. The moor seemed to be alive with
dim pursuers.
“The bolt! The bolt!” gasped my uncle. He pushed it back whilst I turned
the key, and we swung the door open to admit the fugitive. He dashed in
and turned at once with a long yell of triumph. “Come on, lads! Tumble
up, all hands, tumble up! Smartly there, all of you!”
It was so quickly and neatly done that we were taken by storm before we
knew that we were attacked. The passage was full of rushing sailors. I
slipped out of the clutch of one and ran for my gun, but it was only to
crash down on to the stone floor an instant later with two of them
holding on to me. They were so deft and quick that my hands were lashed
together even while I struggled, and I was dragged into the settle
corner, unhurt but very sore in spirit at the cunning with which our
defences had been forced and the ease with which we had been overcome.
They had not even troubled to bind my uncle, but he had been pushed into
his chair, and the guns had been taken away. He sat with a very white
face, his homely figure and absurd row of curls looking curiously out of
place among the wild figures who surrounded him.
There were six of them, all evidently sailors. One I recognized as the
man with the earrings whom I had already met upon the road that evening.
They were all fine, weather-bronzed bewhiskered fellows. In the midst of
them, leaning against the table, was the freckled man who had passed me
on the moor. The great black cloak which poor Enoch had taken out with
him was still hanging from his shoulders. He was of a very different
type from the others—crafty, cruel, dangerous, with sly, thoughtful eyes
which gloated over my uncle. They suddenly turned themselves upon me and
I never knew how one’s skin can creep at a man’s glance before.
“Who are you?” he asked. “Speak out, or we’ll find a way to make you.”
“I am Mr. Stephen Maple’s nephew, come to visit him.”
“You are, are you? Well, I wish you joy of your uncle and of your visit
too. Quick’s the word, lads, for we must be aboard before morning. What
shall we do with the old ’un?”
“Trice him up Yankee fashion and give him six dozen,” said one of the
seamen.
“D’you hear, you cursed Cockney thief? We’ll beat the life out of you if
you don’t give back what you’ve stolen. Where are they? I know you never
parted with them.”
My uncle pursed up his lips and shook his head, with a face in which his
fear and his obstinacy contended.
“Won’t tell, won’t you? We’ll see about that! Get him ready, Jim!”
One of the seamen seized my uncle, and pulled his coat and shirt over
his shoulders. He sat lumped in his chair, his body all creased into
white rolls which shivered with cold and with terror.
“Up with him to those hooks.”
There were rows of them along the walls where the smoked meat used to be
hung. The seamen tied my uncle by the wrists to two of these. Then one
of them undid his leather belt.
“The buckle end, Jim,” said the captain. “Give him the buckle.”
“You cowards,” I cried; “to beat an old man!”
“We’ll beat a young one next,” said he, with a malevolent glance at my
corner. “Now, Jim, cut a wad out of him!”
“Give him one more chance!” cried one of the seamen.
“Aye, aye,” growled one or two others. “Give the swab a chance!”
“If you turn soft, you may give them up for ever,” said the captain.
“One thing or the other! You must lash it out of him; or you may give up
what you took such pains to win and what would make you gentlemen for
life—every man of you. There’s nothing else for it. Which shall it be?”
“Let him have it,” they cried, savagely.
“Then stand clear!” The buckle of the man’s belt whined savagely as he
whirled it over his shoulder.
But my uncle cried out before the blow fell.
“I can’t stand it!” he cried. “Let me down!”
“Where are they, then?”
“I’ll show you if you’ll let me down.”
They cast off the handkerchiefs and he pulled his coat over his fat,
round shoulders. The seamen stood round him, the most intense curiosity
and excitement upon their swarthy faces.
“No gammon!” cried the man with the freckles. “We’ll kill you joint by
joint if you try to fool us. Now then! Where are they?”
“In my bedroom.”
“Where is that?”
“The room above.”
“Whereabouts?”
“In the corner of the oak ark by the bed.”
The seamen all rushed to the stair, but the captain called them back.
“We don’t leave this cunning old fox behind us. Ha, your face drops at
that, does it? By the Lord, I believe you are trying to slip your
anchor. Here, lads, make him fast and take him along!”
With a confused trampling of feet they rushed up the stairs, dragging my
uncle in the midst of them. For an instant I was alone. My hands were
tied but not my feet. If I could find my way across the moor I might
rouse the police and intercept these rascals before they could reach the
sea. For a moment I hesitated as to whether I should leave my uncle
alone in such a plight. But I should be of more service to him—or, at
the worst, to his property—if I went than if I stayed. I rushed to the
hall door, and as I reached it I heard a yell above my head, a
shattering, splintering noise, and then amid a chorus of shouts a huge
weight fell with a horrible thud at my very feet. Never while I live
will that squelching thud pass out of my ears. And there, just in front
of me, in the lane of light cast by the open door, lay my unhappy uncle,
his bald head twisted on to one shoulder, like the wrung neck of a
chicken. It needed but a glance to see that his spine was broken and
that he was dead.
The gang of seamen had rushed downstairs so quickly that they were
clustered at the door and crowding all round me almost as soon as I had
realized what had occurred.
“It’s no doing of ours, mate,” said one of them to me. “He hove himself
through the window, and that’s the truth. Don’t you put it down to us.”
“He thought he could get to windward of us if once he was out in the
dark, you see,” said another. “But he came head foremost and broke his
bloomin’ neck.”
“And a blessed good job too!” cried the chief, with a savage oath. “I’d
have done it for him if he hadn’t took the lead. Don’t make any mistake,
my lads, this is murder, and we’re all in it, together. There’s only one
way out of it, and that is to hang together, unless, as the saying goes,
you mean to hang apart. There’s only one witness——”
He looked at me with his malicious little eyes, and I saw that he had
something that gleamed—either a knife or a revolver—in the breast of his
pea-jacket. Two of the men slipped between us.
“Stow that, Captain Elias,” said one of them. “If this old man met his
end it is through no fault of ours. The worst we ever meant him was to
take some of the skin off his back. But as to this young fellow, we have
no quarrel with him——”
“You fool, you may have no quarrel with him, but he has his quarrel with
you. He’ll swear your life away if you don’t silence his tongue. It’s
his life or ours, and don’t you make any mistake.”
“Aye, aye, the skipper has the longest head of any of us. Better do what
he tells you,” cried another.
But my champion, who was the fellow with the earrings, covered me with
his own broad chest and swore roundly that no one should lay a finger on
me. The others were equally divided, and my fate might have been the
cause of a quarrel between them when suddenly the captain gave a cry of
delight and amazement which was taken up by the whole gang. I followed
their eyes and outstretched fingers, and this was what I saw.
My uncle was lying with his legs outstretched, and the club foot was
that which was furthest from us. All round this foot a dozen brilliant
objects were twinkling and flashing in the yellow light which streamed
from the open door. The captain caught up the lantern and held it to the
place. The huge sole of his boot had been shattered in the fall, and it
was clear now that it had been a hollow box in which he stowed his
valuables, for the path was all sprinkled with precious stones. Three
which I saw were of an unusual size, and as many as forty, I should
think, of fair value. The seamen had cast themselves down and were
greedily gathering them up, when my friend with the earrings plucked me
by the sleeve.
“Here’s your chance, mate,” he whispered. “Off you go before worse comes
of it.”
It was a timely hint, and it did not take me long to act upon it. A few
cautious steps and I had passed unobserved beyond the circle of light.
Then I set off running, falling and rising and falling again, for no one
who has not tried it can tell how hard it is to run over uneven ground
with hands which are fastened together. I ran and ran, until for want of
breath I could no longer put one foot before the other. But I need not
have hurried so, for when I had gone a long way I stopped at last to
breathe, and, looking back, I could still see the gleam of the lantern
far away, and the outline of the seamen who squatted round it. Then at
last this single point of light went suddenly out, and the whole great
moor was left in the thickest darkness.
So deftly was I tied, that it took me a long half-hour and a broken
tooth before I got my hands free. My idea was to make my way across to
the Purcells’ farm, but north was the same as south under that pitchy
sky, and for hours I wandered among the rustling, scuttling sheep
without any certainty as to where I was going. When at last there came a
glimmer in the east, and the undulating fells, grey with the morning
mist, rolled once more to the horizon, I recognized that I was close by
Purcell’s farm, and there a little in front of me I was startled to see
another man walking in the same direction. At first I approached him
warily, but before I overtook him I knew by the bent back and tottering
step that it was Enoch, the old servant, and right glad I was to see
that he was living. He had been knocked down, beaten, and his cloak and
hat taken away by these ruffians, and all night he had wandered in the
darkness, like myself, in search of help. He burst into tears when I
told him of his master’s death, and sat hiccoughing with the hard, dry
sobs of an old man among the stones upon the moor.
“It’s the men of the _Black Mogul_,” he said. “Yes, yes, I knew that
they would be the end of ’im.”
“Who are they?” I asked.
“Well, well, you are one of ’is own folk,” said he. “’E ’as passed away;
yes, yes, it is all over and done. I can tell you about it, no man
better, but mum’s the word with old Enoch unless master wants ’im to
speak. But his own nephew who came to ’elp ’im in the hour of need—yes,
yes, Mister John, you ought to know.
“It was like this, sir. Your uncle ’ad ’is grocer’s business at Stepney,
but ’e ’ad another business also. ’e would buy as well as sell, and when
’e bought ’e never asked no questions where the stuff came from. Why
should ’e? It wasn’t no business of ’is, was it? If folk brought him a
stone or a silver plate, what was it to ’im where they got it? That’s
good sense, and it ought to be good law, as I ’old. Any’ow, it was good
enough for us at Stepney.
“Well, there was a steamer came from South Africa what foundered at sea.
At least, they say so, and Lloyd’s paid the money. She ’ad some very
fine diamonds invoiced as being aboard of ’er. Soon after there came the
brig _Black Mogul_ into the port o’ London, with ’er papers all right as
‘avin’ cleared from Port Elizabeth with a cargo of ‘ides. The captain,
which ’is name was Elias, ’e came to see the master, and what d’you
think that ’e ’ad to sell? Why, sir, as I’m a livin’ sinner ’e ’ad a
packet of diamonds for all the world just the same as what was lost out
o’ that there African steamer. ’ow did ’e get them? I don’t know. Master
didn’t know. ’e didn’t seek to know either. The captain ’e was anxious
for reasons of ’is own to get them safe, so ’e gave them to master, same
as you might put a thing in a bank. But master ’e’d ’ad time to get fond
of them, and ’e wasn’t over satisfied as to where the _Black Mogul_ ’ad
been tradin’, or where her captain ’ad got the stones, so when ’e come
back for them the master ’e said as ’e thought they were best in ’is own
’ands. Mind I don’t ’old with it myself, but that was what master said
to Captain Elias in the little back parlour at Stepney. That was ’ow ’e
got ’is leg broke and three of his ribs.
“So the captain got jugged for that, and the master, when ’e was able to
get about, thought that ’e would ’ave peace for fifteen years, and ’e
came away from London because ’e was afraid of the sailor men; but, at
the end of five years, the captain was out and after ’im, with as many
of ’is crew as ’e could gather. Send for the perlice, you says! Well,
there are two sides to that, and the master ’e wasn’t much more fond of
the perlice than Elias was. But they fair ’emmed master in, as you ’ave
seen for yourself, and they bested ’im at last, and the loneliness that
’e thought would be ’is safety ’as proved ’is ruin. Well, well, ’e was
’ard to many, but a good master to me, and it’s long before I come on
such another.”
One word in conclusion. A strange cutter, which had been hanging about
the coast, was seen to beat down the Irish Sea that morning, and it is
conjectured that Elias and his men were on board of it. At any rate,
nothing has been heard of them since. It was shown at the inquest that
my uncle had lived in a sordid fashion for years, and he left little
behind him. The mere knowledge that he possessed this treasure, which he
carried about with him in so extraordinary a fashion, had appeared to be
the joy of his life, and he had never, as far as we could learn, tried
to realize any of his diamonds. So his disreputable name when living was
not atoned for by any posthumous benevolence, and the family, equally
scandalized by his life and by his death, have finally buried all memory
of the club-footed grocer of Stepney.