"Yes," said the Judge, "I ought by this time to know something of
Cornish juries. They acquit oftener than other juries, to be sure; and
the general notion is that they incline more towards mercy.
Privately, I believe that mercy has very little to do with it."
"Stupidity," said the High Sheriff sententiously, and sipped his wine.
His own obtuseness on the Bench was notorious, and had kept adding for
thirty years to the Duchy's stock of harmless merriment.
"Nothing of the sort," snapped his lordship. "You can convict a man, I
presume, as stupidly as you can acquit him. No: with other juries a
crime is a crime, and a misdemeanour is a misdemeanour. You tell them
so and they accept it. But with Cornishmen you have first to explain
that the alleged offence is illegal; next, you must satisfy them that it
ought to be illegal; and then, if you choose, you can proceed to prove
that the prisoner committed it. They will finally discharge him on the
ground that he never had the advantage of such a clear exposition of the
law as they have just enjoyed."
"Well, but isn't that stupidity?" persisted the High Sheriff.
The Judge turned impatiently and addressed a grey-headed man on his
left. "Did I ever tell you, Mr.--, how I once enjoyed the hospitality
of a Cornish village, through the simple accident of being mistaken for
a burglar?"
The grey-headed man--an eminent Q.C. and leader of the Western Circuit--
dropped an olive into his glass of sherry. He had been dozing.
Two or three guests and members of the Junior Bar drew their chairs
closer.
"It was in 1845," the Judge began, "just after I had taken my degree,
and I had been walking through Cornwall with a knapsack--no small
adventure, I can tell you, in those days. The inhabitants declined to
believe that anyone could walk and carry a pack for the fun of the
thing, and I left a trail of suspicion behind me. The folks were
invariably hospitable, though convinced that I was pursuing no good.
You remember, Mr.--, that when Telemachus visited Gerenia he was
generously entertained, and afterwards politely asked if he happened to
be a pirate. My case was pretty similar, only my Cornish hosts did not
ask, but took it for granted.
"In the first week of August--to be precise, on the 4th--I reached
Polreen Cove, and found lodging at the small inn. The spot and the
people so pleased me that I engaged my rooms for a week. At the week's
end I had decided to stay for a month. I stayed for almost two months.
"Well, as luck would have it, I had not been in Polreen three nights
before there happened the first burglary within the memory of its oldest
inhabitant--if burglary it was. I incline to think that Mrs. Giddy, the
general dealer, had left her shop-door unbolted, and that the culprit,
after removing the bell--the door had two flaps, and the bell, hung on a
half-coil of metal, was fitted to a socket inside the lower flap--had
quietly walked in and made his choice. This choice was a peculiar one--
six bars of yellow soap, a cullender, some tallow candles, a pair of
alpaca boots, a pair of braces, several boxes of matches, an uncertain
amount of cheese, a dozen pocket-handkerchiefs, a coloured almanack,
three of Mrs. Giddy's brass weights, and the bell. He was detected two
months later at Bristol, in the act of using one of the handkerchiefs,
which illustrated the descent of Moses from Mount Sinai; and four other
handkerchiefs were found in his possession, together with Mrs. Giddy's
brass weights. He had disposed of the rest of the booty, and proved to
be a stowaway who had been turned out of a Cardiff schooner on Penzance
quay, penniless and starving. Nothing further was proved against him,
and it still puzzles me how he made his way through the length of
Cornwall, Devon, and Somerset, on the not very nutritious spoils of Mrs.
Giddy's shop.
"For the moment he got clear away. Not a soul in Polreen had set eyes
on him, and as he entered the village by night so he departed.
"I know now that the excitement in the Cove was intense; that for weeks
afterwards the women carried their silver teaspoons and chinaware to bed
with them; and I should explain that the housewives of Polreen are
inordinately proud of their teaspoons and chinaware--heirlooms which
mark the only degrees of social importance recognised among the
inhabitants of that happy Cove. A family there counts its teaspoons as
our old nobility counted its quarterings; a girl is judged to have made
a good, bad, or indifferent match by the number of teaspoons she
'marries into'; and the extreme act of disinheritance is symbolised, not
by the testamentary shilling, nor by erasing a name from the Family
Bible, but by alienating the family plate-basket. In short, teaspoons
are to the Covers what the salt-cellar was to the ancient Latin races.
"But at the time, though I could not help observing symptoms of
suppressed excitement, the Cove behaved with an outward calm which
struck me as highly creditable. To be sure, the men seemed to spend an
extravagant amount of their time in the tap-room of the inn, which
happened to be immediately beneath my sitting-room. Hour after hour the
sound of their muffled conversation ascended to me through the
planching, as I sat and studied--Dumas, I think. Low, monotonous,
untiring, it lasted from breakfast-time until nine o'clock at night,
when it ceased abruptly, the company dispersed, and each man went home
to reassure and protect his wife. I suppose some liquor was required to
start this conversation and keep it going, just as seamen use a
bucketful of water to start a ship's pump; but I must admit that during
my whole stay at Polreen I never saw an inhabitant who could be
described as the worse for drink.
"I did not know that this assemblage in the tap-room was unusual and
clean contrary to the men's habits, and therefore may be excused for not
guessing its significance. Nor was I familiar enough with Polreen to
note an even more frequent change in the atmosphere and routine of its
daily life. When the weather is fine, down there, the men put out to
sea and the women go about their work with smiles. When it blows, the
women go about their work, but resignedly and in a temper, which the men
avoid by ranging up shoulder to shoulder along the wall by the lifeboat
house, and gazing with approval at the weather; with approval, because
it relieves them of the fatigue of argument. But should the day break
doubtfully, and the men incline to give themselves the benefit of the
doubt, then, indeed, you will learn who are masters of the Cove. For in
extreme cases the women will even invade the 'randivoo,' and shrill is
the noise of battle until the weather declares unmistakably for one side
or the other. Does it refuse to declare itself? Then I can promise you
that half an hour will see the men routed and straggling down the beach
to their boats, arching their backs and ducking their heads, may be,
under the parting volley.
"But, as I say, I did not know Polreen and its ways. It awoke no wonder
in me to see the bulk of its male population ranged like statues, day
after day, and from dawn till eve, against the wall by the lifeboat
house, talking little (or ceasing, at any rate, to talk when I
approached), smoking much, conning a serene sky, and the dimples spread
on the sea by a gentle nor'-westerly breeze. At intervals one or two
would leisurely fall out of the line and saunter towards the inn,
leaving their places to others as leisurely sauntering from the inn.
It did, indeed, occur to me to wonder how they earned their living, for
during the first fortnight, beyond the occasional hauling of a crab-pot,
I saw no evidence at all of labour. It was on the tip of my tongue,
once or twice, to question them; but, though polite, they clearly had no
wish to be communicative.
"I found great difficulty in hiring a boat and the services of its
owner. I wished to be rowed along the coast; to try for pollack; to
inspect some of Polreen's famous caves. The men were polite again; but
one boat leaked badly, another had been pulled up for the carpenter to
insert a new strake, a third was too heavy, the owner of a fourth could
not leave his business--it wouldn't pay him! At length I patched up a
bargain with an old fisherman named Udy--or rather Old Tom Udy, to
distinguish him from his son, who was Young Tom. He owned the most
ramshackle old boat in the Cove: if the others were out of repair, his
was manifestly beyond it. I took my life in my hands and struck the
bargain.
"'When do 'ee want her?'
"'Now, at once,' said I; 'or as soon as you have had your dinner.'
"He went back to the company by the lifeboat house. He reminded me of
some ancient king consulting a company of stone gods. They looked at
him, and he looked at them. I suppose a word or two was said; half a
dozen of them spat reflectively; nobody moved. Old Tom Udy came down
the beach again; we embarked and pushed off, and the row of
expressionless faces watched us from the shore.
"In silence we visited the famous caverns. As we emerged from the last
of these I essayed some casual talk. To tell the truth, I was
beginning to feel the want of it, and of course I began on the first
topic of local interest--the burglary.
"'The odd thing to me,' said I, 'is that you seem to have no particular
suspicions.'
"'I'd rather you didn' talk of it,' said Old Tom Udy. 'I got my living
to get, and 'tis a day's journey to Bodmin. Tho' you musn' think,' he
added, 'that we bear any gridge.'
"'It seems to me that you men in the Cove treat the whole affair very
lightly.'
"'Iss, tha's of it,' he assented. 'Mind you, tisn' _right_, Seemin' to
me 'tis a terrible thought. Here you be, for the sake of argument, a
Christian man, and in beauty next door to the angels, and the only use
you make of it is to steal groceries. You don't think I'm putting it
too strong?'
"' Not a bit.'
"'Well, I'm glad o' that, because, since you ask me, as a professing
Christian, I cudn' say any less. But you musn' think we bear any
gridge.'
"'I'm sure I wonder you don't. And the police still have no clue?'
"'The police? You mean Sammy Crego, the constable? Why, I've knawed en
from a boy--pretty thing if any person in Polreen listened to he!
No: us han't failed so low yet as to mind anything the constable says.'
"'Then the whole affair is as much a mystery as ever?'
"'Now, look 'ee here; I don't want to tell nothin' more about it.
A still tongue makes a wise head; an' there's a pollack on the end of
your line.'
"The wind stuck in the north-west, and day after day the regal summer
weather continued. I grew tired of hauling in pollack, and determined
to have a try for the more exciting conger. The fun of this, as you
know, does not begin till night-fall, and it was seven o'clock in the
evening, or thereabouts, when we pushed off from the beach. By eight we
had reached the best grounds and begun operations. An hour passed, or a
little more, and then Old Tom Udy asked when I thought of returning.
"'Why, bless the man,' said I, 'we've not had a bite yet!'
"He glanced at me furtively while he lit a pipe. 'I reckoned, maybe,
you might have business ashore, so to speak.'
"'What earthly business should I have in Polreen at this hour?'
"'Aw, well . . . you know best . . . no affair o' mine. 'Tis a dark
night, too.'
"'All the better for conger, eh?'
"'So 'tis.' He seemed about to say more, but at that moment I felt a
long pull on the line, and for an hour or two the conger kept us busy.
"It must have been a week later, at least (for the moon was drawing to
the full), that I pulled up the blind of my sitting-room a little before
mid-night, and, ravished by the beauty of the scene (for, I tell you,
Polreen can be beautiful by moonlight), determined to stroll down to the
beach and smoke my last pipe there before going to bed. The door of the
inn was locked, no doubt; but, the house standing on the steep slope of
the main street, I could step easily on to the edge of the water-barrel
beneath my window and lower myself to the ground.
"I did so. Just as I touched solid earth I heard footsteps.
They paused suddenly, and, glancing up the moonlit road, I descried the
gigantic figure of Wesley Truscott, the coxswain of the lifeboat.
He must have seen me, for the light on the whitewashed front of the inn
was almost as brilliant as day. But, whatever his business, he had no
wish to meet me, for he dodged aside into the shadow of a porch, and
after a few seconds I heard him tip-toeing up the hill again.
"I began to have my doubts about Polreen's primitive virtues.
Certainly the village, as it lay bathed in moonlight, its whitewashed
terraces and glimmering roofs embowered in dark clusters of fuchsia and
tamarisk, seemed to harbour nothing but peace and sleeping innocence.
An ebbing tide lapped the pebbles on the beach, each pebble distinct and
glistening as the water left it. Far in the quiet offing the lights of
a fishing-fleet twinkled like a line of jewels through the haze.
"Half-way down the beach I turned for a backward look at the village.
"Now the wall by the lifeboat house looks on the Cove. Its front is
turned from the village and the village street, and can only be seen
from the beach. You may imagine my surprise, then, as I turned and
found myself face to face with a dozen tall men, standing there upright
and silent.
"'Good Heavens!' I cried, 'what is the matter? What brings you all here
at this time of night?'
"If I was surprised, they were obviously embarrassed. They drew
together a little, as if to avoid observation. But the moon shone full
on the wall, affording them not a scrap of shadow.
"For a moment no one answered. Then I heard mutterings, and, as I
stepped up, one of the elder men, Archelaus Warne by name, was pushed
forward.
"'We wasn' expectin' of you down here,' he stammered, after clearing his
throat.
"'No reason why you should,' said I.
"'We done our best to keep out o' your way--never thinkin' you'd be
after the boats,'--he nodded towards the boats drawn up on the beach at
our feet.
"'I'm afraid I don't understand you in the least.'
"'Well, you see, 'tis a kind o' club.'
"'Indeed?' said I, not in the least enlightened.
"'Iss;' he turned to his companions. 'I s'pose I'd better tell en?'
They nodded gravely, and he resumed. 'You see, 'tis this way: ever
since that burglary there's no resting for the women. My poor back is
blue all over with the cloam my missus takes to bed. And ha'f a dozen
times a night 'tis, '_Arch'laus, I'm sartin I hear some person movin'--
Arch'laus, fit an' take a light and have a look downstairs, that's a
dear!_' An' these fellows'll tell 'ee 'tis every bit so bad with they.
'Tis right enough in the daytime, so long as the women got us 'ithin
hail, but by night there's no peace nor rest.'
"One or two husbands corroborated.
"'Well, now--I think 'twas the third night after this affair happened--
I crep' downstairs for the fifth time or so just to ease the old woman's
mind, and opens the door, when what do I see but Billy Polkinghorne
here, sittin' on his own doorstep like a lost dog. 'Aw,' says I, 'so
thee'rt feelin' of it, too!' 'Feelin' of it!' says he, 'durned if
this isn' the awnly place I can get a wink o' sleep!' 'Come'st way
long to Wall-end and tetch pipe,' says I. Tha's how it began. An' now,
ever since Billy thought 'pon the plan of settin' someone, turn an'
turn, to watch your window, there's nothin' to hurry us. Why, only just
as you came along, Billy was saying, 'Burglary!' he says, 'why, I han't
been so happy in mind since the _Indian Queen_ came ashore!''
"'Watch my window? Why the--' And then, as light broke on me,
'Look here,' I said, 'you don't mean to tell me you've been suspecting
_me_ of the burglary all this time!'
"'You musn' think,' said Archelaus Warne, 'that we bear any gridge.'"
"Well," the Judge concluded, "as I told you, the thief was apprehended a
week or two later, and my innocence established. But, oddly enough,
some thirty years after I had to try a case at the Assizes here, in
which Archelaus Warne (very old and infirm) appeared as a witness, I
recognised him at once, and, when I sent for him afterwards and inquired
after my friends at Polreen, his first words were, 'There now--I wasn'
so far wrong, after all! I knawed you must be mixed up with these
things, wan way or 'nother.'"