THE SMUGGLERS' CAVES
The others seemed to have been very well entertained while Miss Lally
and I were busy. Mrs. Prideaux had set Miss Baby on the counter, where
she was admiring her to her heart's content--Miss Baby smiling and
chattering, apparently very well pleased. Miss Bess and Master Francis
were talking eagerly with old Prideaux; they turned to us as we came
near.
[Illustration: Miss Bess and Master Francis were talking eagerly with
old Prideaux.]
'Oh, nurse!' said Miss Bess, 'Mr. Prideaux says that he shouldn't wonder
if there were treasures hidden away in the smugglers' caves, though it
wouldn't be safe for us to look for them. He says they'd be so very far
in, where it's quite, quite dark.'
'And one or two of the caves really go a tremendous way underground.
Didn't you say there's one they've never got to the end of?' asked
Master Francis.
'So they say,' replied the old man, with his queer Cornish accent. It
did sound strange to me then, their talk--though I've got so used to it
now that I scarce notice it at all. 'But I wouldn't advise you to begin
searching for treasures, Master Francis. If there's any there, you'd
have to dig to get at them. I remember when I was a boy a deal of talk
about the caves, and some of us wasted our time seeking and digging. But
the only one that could have told for sure where to look was gone. He
met his death some distance from here, one terrible stormy winter, and
took his secret with him. I have heard tell as he "walks" in one of the
caves, when the weather's quite beyond the common stormy. But it's not
much use, for at such times folk are fain to stay at home, so there's
not much chance of any one ever meeting him.'
'Then how has he ever been seen?' asked Miss Bess in her quick way; 'and
who was he, Mr. Prideaux? do tell us.'
But the old man didn't seem inclined to say much more. Perhaps indeed
Miss Bess was too sharp for him, and he did not know how to answer her
first question.
'Such things is best not said much about,' he replied mysteriously; 'and
talking of treasures, by all accounts you'd have a better chance of
finding some nearer home.'
He smiled, as if he could have said more had he chosen to do so. The
children opened their eyes in bewilderment.
'What do you mean?' exclaimed the two elder ones. Miss Lally's mind was
running too much on her stockings for her to pay much attention.
Prideaux did not seem at all embarrassed.
'Well, sir, it's no secret hereabouts,' he said, addressing Master
Francis in particular, 'that the old, old Squire, Sir David, the last of
that name--there were several David Penroses before him, but never one
since--it's no secret, as I was saying, that a deal of money or property
of some kind disappeared in his last years, and it stands to reason
that, being as great a miser as was ever heard tell of, he couldn't have
spent it. Why, more than half of the lands changed hands in his time,
and what did he do with what he got for them?'
'That was our great, great grand-uncle,' said Master Francis to me; 'you
remember I told you about him, but I never thought----' he stopped
short. 'It _is_ very queer,' he went on again, as if speaking to
himself.
But just then, Miss Baby having had enough of Mrs. Prideaux' pettings,
set up a shout.
'Nurse, nurse,' she said, 'Baby wants to go back to Jacob. Poor Jacob so
tired waiting. Dood-bye, Mrs. Pideaux,' and she began wriggling to get
off the counter, so that I had to hurry forward to lift her down.
'We'd best be going on,' I said, 'or we'll be losing the finest part of
the afternoon.'
I didn't feel quite sure that Prideaux' talk was quite what my lady
would approve of for the children. They had a way of taking things up
more seriously than is common with such young creatures, and certainly
they had got in the way--and I couldn't but feel but what my lady was to
blame for this--of thinking too much of the family troubles, especially
the want of wealth, which seemed to them a greater misfortune than it
need have done. Still, being quite a stranger, and them seeming at
liberty to talk to the people about as they did, I didn't feel that it
would have been my place to begin making new rules or putting a stop to
things, as likely as not quite harmless. I resolved, however, to find
out my lady's wishes in such matters at the first opportunity.
Another half hour brought us close to the shore; the road was a good
one, being used for carting gravel and sea-weed in large quantities to
the village and round about from the little bay--Treluan Bay, that is to
say--it led directly to. But as we were bound for Polwithan Bay, where
the smugglers' caves were, and had made a round for the sake of coming
through the village, we had to cross several fields and follow a rough
track instead of going straight down to the sands. Jacob didn't seem to
mind, I must say, nor Miss Baby neither, though she must have been
pretty well jolted, but it was worth the trouble.
'Isn't it lovely, nurse?' said Miss Bess, when at last we found
ourselves in the bay on the smooth firm sand, the sea in front of us,
and so encircled on three sides by the rocks that even the path by which
we had come was hidden.
'This bay is so beautifully shut in,' said Master Francis. 'You could
really fancy that there was no one in the world but us ourselves. I
think it's such a nice feeling.'
'It's nice when we're all together,' said Miss Lally; 'it would be
rather frightening if anybody was alone.'
'Alone or not,' said Miss Bess, 'it wouldn't be at all nice when
tea-time came if we had nothing to eat. And fancy, what _should_ we do
at night--we couldn't sleep out on the sand?'
'We'd have to go into the caves,' said Master Francis. 'It would be
rather fun, with a good fire and with lots of blankets.'
'And where would you get blankets from, or wood for a fire, you silly
boy?' said Miss Bess.
'Can we see the caves?' I asked, for having heard so much talk about
them, I felt curious to see them.
'Of course,' said Master Francis. 'We always explore them every time we
come to this bay. Do you see those two or three dark holes over there
among the rocks, nurse? Those are the caves; come along and I'll show
them to you.'
I was a little disappointed. I had never seen a cave in my life, but I
had a confused remembrance of pictures in an old book at home of some
caves--'The Mammoth Caves of Kentucky,' I afterwards found they
were--which looked very large and wonderful, and somehow I suppose I had
all the time been picturing to myself that these ones were something of
the same kind. I didn't say anything to the children though, as they
took great pride in showing me all the sights. And after all, when we
got to the caves, they turned out much more curious and interesting than
I expected from the outside. The largest one, though its entrance was so
small, was really as big as a fair-sized church, and narrowing again far
back into a dark mysterious-looking passage, from which Master Francis
told me two or three smaller chambers opened out.
'And then,' he said, 'after that the passage goes on again--ever so far.
In the old days the smugglers blocked it up with pieces of rock, and it
isn't so very long ago that this was found out. It was somewhere down
along that passage that they found the things I told you of.'
We went a few yards along the passage, but it soon grew almost quite
dark, and we turned back again.
'I can quite see it wouldn't be safe to try exploring down there,' I
said.
'Yes, I suppose so,' said Master Francis, with a sigh. 'I wish I could
find some treasure, all the same. I wonder----' he went on, then stopped
short. 'Nurse,' he began again, 'did you hear what old Prideaux said of
our great grand-uncle the miser? Could it really be true, do you think,
that he hid away money or treasures of some kind?' and he lowered his
voice mysteriously.
'I shouldn't think it was likely,' I replied. For I had a feeling that
it would not be well for the children to get any such ideas into their
heads. It sounded to me like a sort of fairy tale. I had never come
across anything so romantic and strange in real life. Though for that
matter, Treluan itself, and the kind of old-world feeling about the
place, was quite unlike anything I had ever known before.
We were outside the cave again by this time; the sunshine seemed
deliciously warm and bright after the chill and gloom inside. Miss Bess
had been listening eagerly to what Master Francis was saying.
'I can't see but what old Sir David _might_ have hidden treasures away,
as he was a real miser,' she said.
'And you know that misers are so suspicious, that even when they're
dying they won't trust anybody. I know I've read a story like that,'
said the boy. 'Oh! Bess, just fancy if we could find a lot of money or
diamonds! Wouldn't uncle and aunt be pleased?'
His whole face lighted up at the very idea.
'I daresay he hid it all away in a stocking,' put in Miss Lally, whose
head was still full of her knitting. 'I've heard a story of an old woman
miser that did that.'
'And where would the stocking be hid?' said Miss Bess. 'Besides, if a
stocking was ever so full, it couldn't hold enough money to be a real
treasure.'
'It might be stuffed with bank notes,' said Master Francis. 'There's
banknotes worth ever so much; aren't there, nurse?'
'I remember once seeing one of a thousand pounds,' I said. 'That was at
my last place. Mr. Wyngate had to do with business in the city, and he
once brought one home to show the young ladies.'
'Well, then, you see, Queen,' said Miss Lally, 'there might be a
stocking with enough money to make papa and mamma as rich as rich.'
'I'm quite sure Sir David's money wasn't put in a stocking,' said Miss
Bess decidedly. 'You've got rather silly ideas, Lally, considering
you're getting on for six.'
Miss Lally began to look rather doleful. She had been so bright and
cheerful all day that I didn't like to see her little face overcast. We
had left Jacob outside the cave, of course; there was one satisfaction
with him--he was not likely to run away.
'Miss Baby, dear,' I said, 'aren't you getting hungry? Where's the
basket you were holding in the cart?'
'Nice cakes in basket,' said the little girl. 'Baby looked, but Baby
didn't eaten them.'
The basket was still in the cart, and I think they were all very pleased
when they saw what I had brought for them. Some of Mrs. Brent's nice
little saffron buns and a bottle of milk. I remember that I didn't like
the taste of the saffron buns at first, and now I might be Cornish born
and bred, I think it such an improvement to cakes!
'Another time,' I said, 'we might bring our tea with us. I daresay my
lady wouldn't object.'
'I'm sure she wouldn't mind,' said Miss Bess. 'We used to have picnic
teas sometimes, when our _quite_, quite old nurse was with us--the one
that's married over to St. Iwalds.'
'Bess,' said Master Francis, 'you should say "over at," not "over to."'
'Thank you,' said Miss Bess, 'I don't want you to teach me grammar.
_That_ isn't parson's business.'
Master Francis grew very red.
'Did you know, nurse,' said Miss Lally, 'Francie's going to be a
clergy-gentleman?'
They couldn't help laughing at her, and the laugh brought back good
humour.
'I want to be one,' said Master Francis, 'but I'm afraid it costs a
great lot to go to college.'
Poor children, through all their talk and plans the one trouble seemed
always to keep coming up.
'I fancy that's according a good deal to how young gentlemen take it.
There's some that spend a fortune at college, I've heard, but some that
are very careful; and I expect you'd be that kind, Master Francis.'
'Yes,' he said, in his grave way. 'I wouldn't want to cost Uncle Hulbert
more than I can help. I wish one could be a clergyman without going to
college though.'
'You've got to go to school first,' said Miss Bess. 'You needn't bother
about college for a long time yet.'
Miss Lally sighed.
'I don't like Francie having to go to school,' she said. 'And the boys
are so rough there; I hope they won't hurt your poor leg, Francie.'
'It isn't _that_ I mind,' said Master Francie--the boy had a fine spirit
of his own though he was so delicate--'what I mind is the going alone
and being so far away from everybody.'
'It's a pity,' I said without thinking, 'but what one of you young
ladies had been a young gentleman, to have been a companion for Master
Francis, and to have gone to school together, maybe.'
'Oh!' said Miss Bess quickly, 'you must never say that to mamma, nurse.
You don't know what a trouble it is to her not to have a boy. She'd have
liked Lally to be a boy most of all. She wanted her to be a boy; she
always says so.'
Here Master Francis gave a deep sigh in his turn.
'Oh! how I wish,' he said, 'that I could turn myself into a girl and
Lally into a boy. I wouldn't _like_ to be a girl at all, and I daresay
Lally wouldn't like to be a boy. But to please Aunt Helen I'd do it.'
'No,' said Miss Lally, 'I don't think I would--not even to please mamma.
I couldn't bear to be a boy.'
I was rather sorry I had led to this talk.
'Isn't it best,' I said, 'to take things as they are? Master Francis is
just like your brother--the same name and everything.'
'I'd like it that way,' said Master Francis, with a pleased look in his
eyes. But I heard Miss Bess, who was walking close beside me, say in a
low voice, 'Mamma will never think of it that way!'
This talk made some things clearer to me than before, and that evening,
after the children were in bed, I went down to the housekeeper's room
and eased my mind by telling her about it, I felt so afraid of having
said anything uncalled for. But Mrs. Brent comforted me.
'It's best for you to know,' she said, 'that my lady does make a great
trouble, too great a trouble, to my thinking, of not having a son. And
no doubt it has to do with her coldness to Master Francis, though I
doubt if she really knows this herself, for she's a lady that means to
do right and justly to all about her; I will say that for her.'
It was really something to be thankful for to have such a good and
sensible woman to ask advice from, for a stranger, as I still was. The
more I knew her, the more she reminded me of my good mother. Plain and
homely in her ways, with no love of gossip about her, yet not afraid to
speak out her mind when she saw it right to do so. Many things would
have been harder at Treluan, the poor dear children would have had less
pleasure in their lives, but for Mrs. Brent's kind thought for them.
That very evening I had had a reason, so to say, for paying a special
visit to the housekeeper's room; for when we had got in from our long
walk, rather tired and certainly very hungry, a nice surprise was
waiting for us in the nursery. The tea-table was already set out most
carefully. There was a pile of Mrs. Brent's hot scones and a beautiful
dish of strawberries.
'Oh, nurse!' cried Miss Bess, who had run on first, 'quick, quick, look
what a nice tea. I'm sure it's Mrs. Brent! Isn't it good of her?'
'It's like a birfday,' said Miss Lally.
And Miss Baby, who had been grumbling a good deal and crying, 'I want my
tea,' nearly jumped out of my arms--I had had to carry her upstairs--at
the sight of it.
For I'm afraid there's no denying that in those days breakfast, dinner,
and tea filled a large place in Miss Augusta's thoughts. I hope she'll
forgive me for saying so, if she ever sees this.