Item share on 40 ankers at sixpence
per anker one pound
less two dams at 6d. and a worse word
at (say) 1s. but more if it hapn again. two shillin
Balance due to R.T. One pound eight or value
recd, as per margin.
But the mildest of men will have their whimsies; and for some reason or
other this same trick of the two boats--though designed, as you might
argue, to save him trouble--made Pennefather as mad as a sheep.
He couldn't hear tell of the _Black Joke_ or the _Nonesuch_ but the blood
rushed into his head. He swore to old Dr. Chegwidden that the Covers, by
making him an object of derision, were breaking all bounds of neighbourly
understanding: and at last one day, getting information that Dan'l Leggo
was at Roscoff and loading-up to run a cargo into St. Austell Bay on the
east side of the Blackhead, he so far let his temper get the better of him
as to sit down and warn the Collector at Fowey, telling him the when and
how of the randivoo, and bidding him look out as per description for that
notorious lugger the _Black Joke_.
The letter was scarcely sent before the good soul began to repent. He had
an honest liking for Dan'l Leggo, and would be sorry (even in the way of
duty) to see him in Bodmin Gaol. He believed in Mount's Bay keeping its
troubles to itself; and in short, knowing the Collector at Fowey to be a
pushing fellow, he had passed two days in a proper sweat of remorse, when
to his great relief he ran up against Phoby Geen, that was walking the
pavement with a scowl on his face and both hands deep in his trousers,
he having been told that very morning by Amelia Sanders, and for the
twentieth time of asking, that sooner than marry him she would break
stones on the road.
'Tis a good job, I reckon, that folks in a street can't read one another's
inside. Old Pennefather pulled up in a twitter, tapping his stick on the
pavement. What he wanted to say was, "Your partner, Dan'l Leggo, has a
cargo for St. Austell Bay. He'll get into trouble there, and I'm
responsible for it; but I want you to warn him before 'tis too late."
What he did was to put on a frown, and, said he, "Looky here, Mr. Geen,
I've been wanting to see you or Leggo for some days, to give you fair
notice. I happen to have lost sight of the _Nonesuch_ for some days;
though I conclude, from meeting you, that she's back at Porthleah at her
moorings. But I know the movements of the _Black Joke_, and I've the best
reason to warn you that she had best give up her latest game, or she must
look out for squalls."
Well, this was a plain hint, and in an ordinary way Phoby Geen would have
taken it. But the devil stirred him up to remember the insult he'd
received from Amelia Sanders that very day; and by and by, as he walked
home to Porthleah, there came into his mind a far wickeder thought.
Partners though he and Dan'l were, each owned the boat he commanded,
or all but a few shares in her. The shares in the _Black Joke_ stood in
Dan'l's name, and if anything went wrong with her the main loss would be
Dan'l's. All the way home he kept thinking what a faithful partner he'd
been to Dan'l in the past, and this was Dan'l's gratitude, to cut him out
with Amelia Sanders and egg the girl on to laugh at the colour of his
hair. She would laugh to another tune if he chose to hold his tongue on
Mr. Pennefather's warning, and let Dan'l run his head into the trap. The
Fowey Collector was a smart man, capable of using his information.
(Phoby, who could see a hole through a ladder as quick as most men,
guessed at once that Pennefather had laid the trap, and then repented and
spoken to him in hope to undo the mischief.) Like as not, St. Austell Bay
would be patrolled by half a dozen man-of-war's boats in addition to the
water-guard: and this meant Dan'l's losing the lugger, losing his life
too, maybe, or at the least being made prisoner. Well, and why not?
Wasn't one man master enough for Porthleah Cove? And hadn't Dan'l and the
girl deserved it?
I believe the miserable creature wrestled against his temptation: and I
believe that when he weighed next morning and hoisted sail in the
_Nonesuch_ for Guernsey, where the _Black Joke_ was to meet him in case
of accident, he had two minds to play fair after all. 'Twas told
afterwards that, pretty well all the way, he locked himself in
his cabin, and for hours the crew heard him groaning there. But it seems
that Satan was too strong for him; for instead of bearing straight up for
Guernsey, where he well knew the _Black Joke_ would be waiting, he stood
over towards the French coast, and there dodged forth and back, under
pretence of picking her up as she came out of Roscoff. His crew took it
for granted he was following out the plan agreed upon. All they did was
to obey orders, and of course they knew naught of Mr. Pennefather's
warning.
To be short, Dan'l Leggo, after waiting the best part of two days at St.
Peter's Port and getting no news to the contrary, judged that the coast
must be clear, and stood across with a light sou'-westerly breeze, timing
it so as to make his landfall a little before sunset: which he did, and
speaking the crew of a Mevagissey boat some miles off the Deadman, was
told he might take the lugger in and bring her up to anchor without fear
of interruption. (But whether or no they had been bribed to give this
information he never discovered.) They told him, too, that his clients--a
St. Austell company--had the boats ready at Rope Hauen under the
Blackhead, and would be out as soon as ever he dropped anchor.
So he crept in under darkness and brought up under the loom of the shore--
having shifted his large lug for a trysail and leaving that set, with his
jib and mizzen--and gave orders at once to cast off the hatches.
While this was doing, sure enough he heard the boats putting off from the
beach a cable's length away, and was just congratulating himself on having
to deal with such business-like people, when his mate, Billy Tregaskis,
caught hold of him by the elbow.
"Hark to them oars, sir!" he whispered.
"I hear 'em," said Dan'l.
"You never heard that stroke pulled by fishermen," said Billy, straining
to look into the darkness. "They're man-o'-war's boats, sir, or you may
call me a Dutchman!"
"Cut the cable!" ordered Dan'l, sharp and prompt.
Billy whipped out his knife, ran forward, and cut loose in a jiffy; but
before the _Black Joke_ could gather headway the two boats had run up
close under her stern. The bow-man of the first sheared through the
mizzen-sheet with his cutlass, and boarding over the stern with three or
four others, made a rush upon Dan'l as he let go the helm and turned to
face them; while the second boat's crew opened with a dozen musket-shots,
firing high at the sails and rigging. In this they succeeded: for the
second or third shot cut through the trysail tack and brought the sail
down with a run; and almost at the same moment the boarders overpowered
Dan'l and bore him down on deck, where they beat him silly with the flat
of their cutlasses and so passed on to drive the rest of the lugger's
crew, that were running below in a panic.
The struggle had carried Dan'l forward, so that when he dropped 'twas
across the fallen trysail. This served him an ill turn: for one of the
cutlasses, catching in a fold of it, turned aslant and cut him cruelly
over the bridge of the nose. But the sail being tanned, and therefore
almost black in the darkness, it served him a good turn too; for after his
enemies had passed on and were busy making prisoners of the rest of the
crew, he lay there unperceived for a great while, listening to the racket,
but faint and stunned, so that he could make neither head nor tail of it.
At length a couple of men came aft and began handling the sail; and
"Hullo!" says one of them, discovering him, "here's one as dead as a
haddock!"
"Put him below," says the other.
"What's the use?" asks the other, pulling Dan'l out by the legs and
examining him; "the poor devil's head is all jelly." Just then a cry was
raised that one of the boats had gone adrift, the boarders having
forgotten to make her fast in their hurry, and someone called out an order
to man the other and pull in search of her. The two fellows that had been
handling Dan'l dropped him and ran aft, and Dan'l--all sick and giddy as
he was--crawled into the scuppers and, pulling himself up till his eyes
were level with the bulwarks, tried to measure the distance between him
and shore. Now the lugger (you'll remember) was adrift when the Navymen
first boarded her, through Billy Tregaskis having cut the cable; and with
the set of the tide she must been carried close in-shore during the
scrimmage before they brought her up: for, to Dan'l's amazement, she lay
head-to-beach, and so close you could toss a biscuit ashore. There the
shingle spread, a-glimmering under his nose, as you might say; and he put
up a thanksgiving when he remembered that a minute ago his only hope had
been to swim ashore--a thing impossible in his weak state; but now, if he
could only drop overside without being observed, he verily believed he
could wade for it--that is, after the first few yards--for the
_Black Joke_ drew from five to six feet of water, and since she lay afloat
'twas certain the water right under him must be beyond his depth.
Having made up his mind to the risk--for anything was better than Bodmin
prison--he heaved a leg across the bulwarks, and so very cautious-like
rolled over and dropped. His toes--for he went down pretty plump--touched
bottom for a moment: but when he came to strike out he found he'd
over-calculated his strength, and gave himself up for lost. He swallowed
some water, too, and was on the point of crying out to be taken aboard
again and not left to drown, when the set of the tide swept him forward,
so that he fetched up with his breast against a shore-line that someone
had carried out from the bows: and hauling on this he dragged himself
along till the water reached no higher than his knees. Twice he tried to
run, and twice he fell through weakness, but he came ashore at last at a
place where the beach ended in a low ridge of rock covered with ore-weed.
Between the rocks ran stretches of whity-grey shingle, and he lay still
for a while and panted, considering how on earth he could cross these
without being spied by the Navymen, that had recovered their boat by this
time and were pulling back with her to the lugger. While he lay there
flat on his stomach, thinking as hard as his bruised head would let him,
a voice spoke out of the darkness close by his ear, and said the voice,
"You belong aboard the lugger, if I'm not mistook?"--which so terrified
Dan'l that he made no answer, but lifted himself and stared, with all his
teeth chattering. "You stay still where you are," the voice went on,
"till the coast is a bit clearer, as 'twill be in a minute or two.
There's a two-three friends up the beach, that were hired for this
business; but the Preventive men have bested us this time. Hows'ever,
you've had luck to get ashore--'tis better be lucky than rich, they say.
Hutted, are 'ee?" The boats being gone by this time, the man that owned
the voice stepped out of the darkness, lifted him--big-boned man though he
was--and hefted him over the rocks. A little higher up the foreshore he
was joined by two others, and the three between 'em took hold of Dan'l and
helped him up the cliff and through a furze-drake till they brought him to
a cottage, where, in a kitchen full of people, he found half a dozen of
the Cove-boys that had dropped overboard at the first alarm and swam for
shore--the lot gathered about a young doctor from St. Austell that was
binding up a man whose shoulder had been ripped open by a musket-ball.
Poor Dan'l's injury being more serious, and his face a clot of blood from
the cutlass-wound over his nose, the doctor turned to him at once and
plastered him up for dear life; after which his friends, well knowing that
a price would be set on him as skipper of the _Black Joke_, carried him
off to St. Austell in a cart that had been brought for the tubs; and at
St. Austell hired a chaise to carry him home to Marazion, taking the
precaution to wrap his head round with bandages, so that the post-boys
might not be able to swear to his looks. A Cover called Tummels drove
with him, bandaged also; and stopping the chaise a mile outside Marazion,
lifted Dan'l out, managed to hire a cart from a farm handy-by the road,
and so brought him, more dead than alive, home to Porthleah.
But though more dead than alive, Dan'l had not lost his wits. Except for
the faithful Tummels and Bessie Bussow at the Kiddlywink, the Cove was all
deserted--the _Nonesuch_ and her crew being yet on the high seas.
The very next day he sent Tummels over to Porthleven to tell Amelia
Sanders of his mishap, and that he was going into hiding for a time,
but would send her word of his movements; and on Tummels' return the pair
sat down and cast about where the hiding had best be, Dan'l being greatly
uplifted by Tummels' report that the girl had showed herself as plucky as
ginger, in spite of the loss of the lugger, declaring that, come what
might, she would rather have Dan'l with all his Christian virtues than a
fellow like Phoby Geen with all his riches and splay feet. Moreover--and
such is the wondrous insight of woman--she maintained that Phoby Geen must
be at the bottom of the whole mischief.
Dan'l didn't pay much heed to this, but set it down to woman's prejudice.
After talking the matter well out, he and Tummels decided on a very pretty
hiding-place and a fairly comfortable one. This was a tenantless house on
the coast near St. Ives. A Bristol merchant had built it, meaning to
retire there as soon as he'd made his fortune: but either the cost had
outrun his plans or the fortune didn't come quite so soon as he expected.
At any rate, neither he nor his family had ever taken up abode there.
A fine house it was, too, and went in the neighbourhood by the name of
Stack's Folly. It stood in the middle of a small farm of about a hundred
and fifty acres, besides moor and waste; and, as luck would have it, a
brother-in-law of Tummels, by name William Sleep, rented the farm and kept
the keys of the house, being supposed to look after it in the family's
absence.
Across to Stack's Folly, then, Dan'l was driven in a cart, under a great
pile of ore-weed; and William Sleep not only gave over the keys and helped
to rig up a bed of straw for him--for the house hadn't a stick of
furniture--but undertook to keep watch against surprise and get a supply
of food carried up to him daily from the farmhouse, which stood in the
valley below, three-quarters of a mile away. So far so good: yet now a
new trouble arose owing to Dan'l's wounds showing signs of inflammation
and threatening to set up wildfire. Tummels and Sleep put their heads
together, and determined that a doctor must be fetched.
Now Dr. Chegwidden, who was getting up in years, had engaged an assistant
to take over the St. Ives part of his practice; a young fellow called
Martyn, a little on the right side of thirty, clever in his profession,
and very well spoken of by all. (Indeed, Dr. Chegwidden, that had taken a
fancy to him first-along for his knowledge of Natural History, in due time
promoted him to be partner, so that when the old man died, five or six
years later, Dr. Martyn stepped into the whole practice.) William Sleep at
first was for fetching this young doctor boldly; but Tummels argued that
he was a new-comer from the east part of the Duchy, if not from across
Tamar, and they didn't know enough of him to warrant the risk. So in the
end, after many _pros_ and _cons_, they decided to trust themselves first
to Dr. Chegwidden.
That same night, as the old doctor, after his game of cards with Mr.
Pennefather, sat finishing his second glass of rum and thinking of bed,
there came a ring at the night-bell, which of all sounds on earth was the
one he most abominated. He went to the front door and opened it in a
pretty bad temper, when in walked Tummels and William Sleep together and
told their business. "A man--no need to give names--was lying hurt and in
danger--no matter where. They had a horse and trap waiting, a little
above Chyandour, and, if the doctor would come and ask no questions, the
same horse and trap should bring him home before morning."
The old doctor asked no questions at all, but fetched his greatcoat,
tobacco-pouch, tinder-box, and case of instruments, and walked with them
to the hill over Chyandour, where he found the trap waiting, with a boy at
the horse's head. Tummels dismissed the boy, and in they all climbed; but
before they had driven half a mile the doctor was asked very politely if
he'd object to have his eyes blindfolded.
He chuckled for a moment. "Of course I object," said he; "for--you may
believe it or not--if a man can't _see_ that his pipe's alight he loses
half the enjoyment of it. But two is stronger than one," said he; "and if
you insist I shall submit." So they blindfolded him.
In this way they brought him to Stack's Folly, helped him down from the
cart, and led him into the bare room where Dan'l lay in the straw; and
there by lantern-light the old man did his job very composedly.
"You're not altogether a pair of fools," said he, speaking for the first
time as he tied the last bandage. "If you hadn't fetched someone, this
man would have been dead in three days from now. But you're fools enough
if you think I'm going to take this jaunt every night for a week and
more--as someone must, if Dan'l's to recover; and you're bigger fools if
you imagine I don't know the inside of Stack's Folly. My advice is that
in future you save yourselves trouble and call up my assistant from St.
Ives; and further, that you don't try his temper with any silly
blindfolding, but trust him for the gentleman and good sportsman I know
him to be. If 'tis any help to you, he'll be stepping over to Penzance
to-day on business, and I'll take the opportunity to drop him a hint of
warning."
They thanked him, of course. "And sorry we are, doctor," said Tummels,
"to have put you to this inconvenience. But there's no friend like an old
friend."
"Talking of friends," answered Dr. Chegwidden, "I think it well to set you
on your guard." He pulled out a handbill from his pocket. "I had this
from Mr. Pennefather to-night," said he; "and by to-morrow it will be
posted all over the country: an offer for the apprehension of Daniel
Leggo; the reward, two hundred and fifty pounds."
"Two hundred and fifty pounds!" Weak as he was, Dan'l sat upright in the
straw, and the other two stared at the doctor with their jaws dropping--
which Dan'l's jaw couldn't, by reason of the bandages.
"And you ask us to trust this young furriner, with two hundred and fifty
pounds for his hand to close on!" groaned Tummels.
"I do," said the doctor. "The man I would warn you against is a man you'd
be ten times apter to trust; and that is your partner, Deiphobus Geen.
I understand he's away from home just now; but--reward or no reward--when
he returns I advise you to watch that fellow closer than any of the
Preventive men: for to my certain knowledge he had ample warning of what
was to happen, and I leave you to judge if 'twas by accident he let his
friend Dan'l, here, run into the trap."
Tummels made a motion to draw out a musket from under the straw where
Dan'l lay. "If I thought that," he growled, "I'd walk straight over to
Porthleah, wait for him, and blow his scheming brains out."
"You'd be a bigger fool, then, than I take ye for," answered the doctor
quietly, "and I know you've but wits enough for one thing at a time.
Your business now is to keep Dan'l hidden till you can smuggle him out of
the country: and if Dr. Martyn or I can help, you may count on us, for I
hate such foul play as Deiphobus Geen's, and so, I believe, does my
assistant."
With that the doctor took his leave of Dan'l and was driven home by
Tummels, William Sleep remaining to stand guard: and next day, according
to promise, Dr. Martyn was told the secret and trusted with the case.