I dreamed about that cave night after night, and it was a long time
before I could get its weird echoes out of my mind. I had only to go
down to the shore and listen to the wash of the waves to have my mason
friend's narrative come back in full force, till I felt quite a morbid
pleasure in listening to the fancied beating and echoing of the tide in
the hollow place.
I used to meet a good many of the fishermen down about the little pier,
and after a little bit of a case that I managed with one poor fellow who
had been for years leading a weary existence, I found that I might have
commanded the services of every fisherman there and had their boats at
pleasure. There was always a pleasant smile for me when I went down,
and whenever a boat came in if I was seen upon the pier there was sure
to be a rough sunburnt face looking into mine as a great string of fish
was offered to me.
"They're fresh as daisies, doctor," the giver would say: a man, perhaps,
that I had hardly seen before, while the slightest hint at payment was
looked upon as an offence.
"And there's no knowing, doctor," said one man who presented me with a
delicious hake, "I may be down at any time and want your help and
advice. Didn't you cure Sam Treporta? Lookye here doctor, don't you go
away again, you stop and practice down here. We'll be ill as often as
we can, and you shan't never want for a bit of fish so long as the
weather keeps fine."
It was one afternoon down on the little rugged granite pier that I heard
the story of Tom Trecarn and the bailiffs, and being rather a peculiar
adventure I give it as it was told to me.
"`Is that you, Tom?'
"`Iss, my son,' replied Tom, a great swarthy, black-whiskered,
fierce-looking, copper-coloured Cornish giant, in tarry canvas trousers,
and a blue worsted guernsey shirt--a tremendous fellow in his way--but
with a heart as soft and tender as that of his wife, whom he had just
addressed in the popular fashion of his part as `my son.' Tom had just
come home from mackerel fishing off the Scilly Isles. The take had only
been poor, for the wind had been unfavourable; but the few hundred fish
his lugger had brought in were sold, and with a few hake in his hand for
private consumption, Tom Trecarn had come home for a good night's rest.
"`Oh, Tom,' burst out his wife, throwing down that popular wind
instrument without which upon a grand scale no fisherman's granite
cottage is complete--`Oh, Tom,' said Mrs Trecarn, throwing down the
bellows, there known as the `Cornish organ'--`Oh, Tom, you're a ruined
man.'
"`Not yet, my son,' replied Tom, stoically; `but if things don't mend,
fishing won't be worth the salt for a score of pilchards.'
"`But Dan Pengelly's broken, Tom,' sobbed Mrs Trecarn.
"`Then we'll get him mended, my son,' said Tom, kissing her.
"`How many fish had ye?' sang a voice outside the cottage, in the
peculiar pleasant intonation common amongst the Cornish peasantry.
"`Thousand an' half,' sang back Tom to the inquiring neighbour.
"`Where did you shoot, lad?' sang the voice again.
"`West of Scilly, Eddard. Bad times: wind heavy, and there's four
boats' fish.'
"`Pengelly's got the bailiffs in, Thomas,' sang the neighbour, now
thrusting his head in at the door.
"`Sorry for him,' sang Tom, preparing for a wash.
"`And I'm sorry for you, Thomas,' sang the neighbour.
"`What for?' said Tom, stoically.
"`Why, aint all your craft in his store, Tom?' inquired the neighbour.
"`Oh, yes--every net,' sobbed Mrs Trecarn; `and we're ruined.
Eighty-four pounds fifteen and seven-pence, too, those nets cost.'
"`But't aint nothing to us,' said Tom, turning a different colour, as an
ordinary man would have turned pale.
"`Why, your craft's seized too, lad; and ye'll lose it all,' cried the
neighbour, singing it right into the great fellow's ear.
"Down went the pitcher of water upon the stone floor in a wreck of
potsherds and splash, and crash went the staggering neighbour against
the side table set out with Mrs Trecarn's ornaments, as Tom rushed out
of the house, and up the street to Daniel Pengelly's store.
"Dan Pengelly's store was a well-known building in Carolyn, being a
long, low, granite-built and shale-roofed shed, where many of the
fishermen warehoused their herring and pilchard nets during the mackerel
season--the mackerel nets taking their turn to rest when dried, on
account of the pilchards making their appearance off the shores of
Mount's Bay. For, as in patriarchal days men's wealth was in flocks and
herds, so here in these primitive Cornish fishing villages it is the
ambition of most men to become the owner of the red-sailed, fast-tacking
luggers which, from some hitherto unexplained phenomenon, sail like the
boats of every other fishing station--faster than any vessel that
ploughs the waves. Failing to become the owner of a boat, the next
point is to be able to boast of having so many nets, many a
rough-looking, hard-handed fisherman being perhaps possessor of a couple
or three hundred pounds' worth, bought or bred (netted) by his wife and
daughters.
"To Dan Pengelly's store went Tom Trecarn, to find there a short,
fresh-coloured, pudgy man leaning against one of the doorposts, holding
the long clay pipe he smoked with one hand, and rubbing his nose with
the key he held in the other.
"`I want my nets out,' said Tom, coming up furious as a bull. `I've got
eighty pound worth of craft in here as don't belong to the Pengellys.'
"`So have I,' and `So have I,' growled a couple of the group of men
lolling about and looking on in the idle way peculiar to fishermen when
winds are unfavourable.
"`Can't help that,' said the man, ceasing to rub his nose, and buttoning
up the key in his pocket. `I'm in possession, and nothing can't come
out of here. The goods are seized for debt.'
"`But I ain't nothing to do with Pengelly's debts,' said Tom. `My nets
ain't going to pay for what he owes. I earned my craft with the sweat
of my brow, and they're only stored here like those of other lads.'
"`Iss, my son--'tis so--'tis so,' said one or two of the bystanders,
nodding their heads approvingly.
"`I've got nothing to do with that,' said the man in possession; `the
goods are seized, and whatever's in Daniel Pengelly's store will be sold
if he don't pay up; and that's the law.'
"`Do you mean to tell me that the law says you're to sell one man's
goods to pay another man's debts?' said Tom.
"`Yes, if they're on the debtor's premises,' said the man, coolly.
"`Then I'm blest if I believe it,' cried Tom, furiously; `and if you
don't give up what belongs to me--'
"Here he strode so furiously up to the bailiff that a couple of
brother-fishermen rushed in, and between them hustled Trecarn off, and
back to his cottage, where the poor fellow sat down beside his weeping
wife, while the two ponderous fellows who had brought him home leaned
one on either side of the door, silent and foil of unspoken condolence.
"`Eighty-four pound!' groaned Tom.
"`Fifteen and seven-pence!' sobbed his wife.
"`Eight bran-new herring nets of mine,' said one of his friends.
"`And fifteen pound worth of my craft,' muttered the other.
"`And this is the law of the land, is it?' growled Tom.
"`They took Sam Kelynack's little mare same way as was grazing on
Tressillian's paddock,' said friend number one; and then they all joined
in a groan of sympathy.
"Now, in most places the men would have adjourned to a public-house to
talk over their troubles; but here in the Cornish fishing villages a
large percentage of the men are total abstainers; and Mrs Trecarn
having brewed a good cup of tea, and fried half-a-dozen split mackerel,
they all sat down and made a hearty meal; while during the discussion
that followed, some comfort seemed to come to the troubled spirits of
the men, so that about eight o'clock that night they went arm-in-arm
down the ill-paved street, singing a glee in good time, tune, and the
harmony so well preserved, that a musician would have paused in wonder
to find such an accomplishment amongst rough fishermen--an
accomplishment as common as brass bands amongst the Lancashire and
Yorkshire artisans.
"`Not another drop, I thanky,' said the bailiff to one of Tom's friends,
who stood by him tumbler in hand, stirring a stiff glass of grog.
"It was a fine night though it had been raining, and the water lay in
pools around, one of the largest being in front of the door stone of
Pengelly's store, beside which the bailiff stood; for though carefully
locked up, the man felt a disinclination to leave it, and he equally
disliked shutting himself inside and sleeping upon a heap of nets; so he
had treated the advances made by the man who had protected him from
Trecarn with pleasure, and between them they had finished one strong
tumbler of rum and water, and were well on with the second.
"`Not another drop! thanky,' said the bailiff; so Nicholas Harris again
broke his pledge, taking a moderate sip, and passed the glass once more
to the bailiff, who took it, sipped long and well, and then sighed;
while it was observable that the last draught had so paved the way for
more, that he made no further objections even when the glass was filled
for the third and fourth time--each time the liquor being made more
potent.
"At the filling of the fifth glass at eleven o'clock, when nearly the
whole village was asleep, Nicholas Harris, who seemed wonderfully sober,
considering, stopped and whispered to a couple of men in one of the
corners behind the store; and in another half-hour, the said two shadowy
figures came up to find the bailiff sitting in the pool of water in
front of the store, and shaking his head in a melancholy way at his
companion.
"`I don't feel well,' said Harris, `and I'm going home. P'r'aps you'll
help that gentleman up to the King's Arms.'
"Neither of the new-comers spoke; but each seized the bailiff by an arm,
and tried to lift him to his feet. But he did not wish to be lifted to
his feet, and sat him down down again in the wettest spot of the road,
making the water fly from beneath him, while every fresh attempt to get
him away was fiercely resisted.
"`Have you got it?' whispered one of the new-comers.
"`Ay, lad!' said the other, `it's all right.'
"`Then fetch a barrow.'
"The man spoken to came back in a few minutes with a wheelbarrow, by
which time the bailiff seemed in a state of hopeless collapse, and
remained so when he was lifted into the barrow.
"`Don't laugh,' whispered one man, as the other held his sides, and
stamped about with mirth to see his companion's efforts to get the man
in position; for he could not sit down, nor lie down, nor be placed
side-wise, nor cross-wise. Once he was in a sitting posture and,
seizing the handles, the man started the barrow; but the bailiff slowly
slid down till his head rested upon the barrow wheel, and ground against
it.
"`P'raps you'll wheel him yourself next time,' he grumbled to his
laughing companion, who stepped up, seized the collapsed bailiff round
the waist and carried him in his arms as easily as a girl would a baby,
till he reached the village public-house, where he deposited his burden
beneath a cart-shed, while the peace of that end of the village was
disturbed no more until morning.
"The next day there was an application to the magistrates respecting the
nets that had been stolen from Pengelly's store--nets of the value of
over one handled pounds having been removed no one knew whither Nicholas
Harris was taken to task as having been seen with the bailiff drinking;
but he swore truthfully that he had gone home directly he quitted him,
and had lain in bed all the next day with a fearful headache. His nets
were amongst those taken. Pengelly proved that the other nets taken
were Trecarn's and Pollard's, but upon their places being searched only
some old nets were found, while the men themselves had put off for sea
early that morning. However upon the magistrate learning from Pengelly
that every article belonging to him was safe upon his premises, he
turned round and whispered for some little time to his clerk, and it was
arranged that the case should be adjourned.
"That case was adjourned, and, as the sequel proved _sine die_, for no
further notice was taken. Daniel Pengelly got into difficulties, and
his goods were sold--Tom Trecarn purchasing some of his nets; whilst it
was observable on all sides that both Tom and his friends were in
excellent spirits, though that might have been owing to the large take
of mackerel they brought in. As to the proceedings of that night, the
morality is very questionable; but still, by way of excuse, it does seem
hard that under the present state of the law, even though a man can
substantially prove that goods upon a defaulter's premises are his own,
he must still lose them, as many a poor fellow has found to his cost.
However, the above narrative is a fact, and one's sympathies cannot fail
of tending towards the annexation of the nets."