"I want to know your name and all about you," said Margery, addressing
the young stranger, who, having eaten a very good breakfast, and
obtained permission to use his tongue, had had his clothes dried, and
having dressed in them, looked every inch a midshipman, and spoke like
one also.
"Why, you see, Miss Margery, for I understand that is what you are
called, that matter is quickly settled. My name is Charles, or rather
Charley Blount. My father and mother are dead, and I was sent away
early to sea, and have been at sea ever since, and as I am very fond of
it I know more about it than most lads of my age. I was on my fifth
voyage home from India in the `Durham Castle,' and expected before long
to become a mate, when just in the chops of the Channel, our rigging
being slack, we lost all our masts, and at the same time the ship sprung
a leak. We little knew how bad it was, but instead of getting up
jury-masts, with which we might have steered the ship up Channel, the
crew were compelled to work at the pumps; but the leaks gained on us,
and so the poor old ship went down, with upwards of a hundred people on
board."
"Dreadful!" exclaimed Margery. "But how did you escape from the ship?"
"A few of us, when we found that nothing could save the ship, hurriedly
put together a small raft, but very few of the rest seemed inclined to
venture on it. Just as the ship was going down I sprang on to it with
five others; they lost their hold, and were washed off; I retained mine,
and was washed on shore, and now I think that I have told you all about
myself that you will care to know."
"Oh no! not by half!" answered Margery. "I want to know why the black
boy is so much attached to you, and how it was that papa when he picked
him up did not see you?"
"That I can easily account for," answered Charley, "as the ship went
down a thick fog came on, and I had drifted by up Channel; that is to
say, nearly east, before the boat coming more from the north had reached
the spot; and as to honest, faithful Crambo, I once upon a time picked
him out of the water as he last night helped to pick me out, and he has
ever since stuck by me, and I assure you that I value his friendship."
"Oh yes! I can easily understand that," said Margery. "I am reading
about a very interesting person, a great traveller, who had a black
servant called Friday, and they lived together on a desert island for a
long time--it must have been very delightful--but at last they got away.
I have not read the book through yet, but when I have I will tell you
more about it, and perhaps Stephen Ludlow will lend it to you. I will
ask him, for I am sure that you will like it."
"Perhaps I may have read it, Miss Margery, already," said Charley,
smiling. "If it is the `Life and Adventures of Robinson Crusoe,' I
have."
"Yes, yes! that is the very book!" exclaimed Margery, "how could you
guess so quickly?"
"Because I know of no other book with a man Friday in it, or one so
interesting," said Charley; "but I must tell you one thing. Friday is
always spoken of as a black, but that is a mistake, as the inhabitants
of all the islands in the part of the Pacific where Robinson Crusoe is
supposed to have been wrecked are light brown people; some are very
light. Many of them are civilised, and have become Christians, but in
those days they were perfect savages, and some of them were cannibals."
"How dreadful!" exclaimed Margery. "But have you been out in those
seas?"
"Yes!" answered the midshipman, "I once came home that way, and we
touched at several islands. They are very beautiful, and I should much
like to go out there again."
"So should I," said Margery, and she sighed. She would like to have
told him all about Jack, but he was as yet too great a stranger to her
to allow her to speak to him on a subject which was to her almost
sacred, so she said nothing; she did not even tell him that she had had
a brother Jack, who had gone to sea and been lost.
Charley Blount soon became a great favourite of the inmates of the
Tower, as also with most of the neighbours. His history seemed a sad
one, and yet he was as merry and happy a fellow as ever lived. He had
but few friends on whom he had any claim, and they were in India; the
only one he had had in England, an aunt, was dead. She was the sister
of his father--a maiden lady of true piety, who had indeed instructed
him in the way he should go, and Charley Blount had not departed from
it. This was the reason he was so merry and happy. His happiness was
within himself. Captain Askew delighted in him. He seemed to him what
his own boy would have been, and it was with inward satisfaction he
heard that he had no friends in England to whom he could go.
"Then, Charley, you must make this old Tower your home, as long as you
can keep off the salt water," he answered. "We are grave, old-fashioned
people, but we'll do our best to make your stay with us pleasant."
Charley assured his friends that he knew when he was in good quarters,
and that he should be in no hurry to go away. It naturally occurred to
the captain that his young guest would like a companion occasionally, so
he sent a note inviting Stephen Ludlow to come over and spend a day at
the tower, hoping also that Mr Ludlow would invite Charley in return.
Margery was very anxious to see Stephen to thank him for his book, and
to tell him how much she liked it. An idea had also occurred to her
which she proposed broaching to him on the first opportunity.
Blind Peter was the general messenger as well as the purveyor of small
wares in the neighbourhood, and as he happened to call that day, Becky
took the captain's note down to him to carry.
"It's just to ask the young master at Ludlow to come over for a day,"
she observed, as she gave it to him.
"Then just, Becky, do you give him a hint not to wander away from the
Tower while he is here, and tell him to go back by the way he went the
last time, mind that," said Peter.
"I'll do as you tell me, Master Peter," answered Becky. "But what's in
the wind that makes you say that? You know I am not a woman to go and
prattle about other people's affairs, but I should just like to know,
that I should, Master Peter."
Blind Peter turned his sightless orbs towards Becky, while a smile
played round his lips.
"I'll tell you what, Becky," he answered, "there's an old saying, that a
secret is no longer a secret if it's in the keeping of more than one
person; so, do ye see, I think as I've got it I'd better keep it. Not
but what I own that you are a right sensible woman, Mistress Becky, and
it's for your good as much as for my own that I don't tell it to you."
Becky was not satisfied, but she knew Peter of old, and that, as she
said of him, "he was as close as wax, and if he was determined not to do
a thing no mortal power could make him do it." She made up her mind to
abide her time, in the hope that after all she might discover the
secret. Blind Peter having received the note, set off on his journey,
promising to deliver it either that night or the following morning.
Peter's reception at the hall was always very different to that at the
tower, yet he did not refuse the crust of bread and mug of water offered
to him at the former, but meekly took it, and went on his way with a
thankful heart. On this occasion, having delivered the note at the
hall, and finding that both Mr Ludlow and his son were out, he
continued his journey. It was towards evening, as he was within a mile
or so of the little public-house, near the coast, at which he intended
to sleep, that he was overtaken by a man in a cart.
"Ah, Peter! is that you?" said the driver. "Just get in, and I'll put
you and your dog and your wares down wherever you may wish to stop."
"Thank you for your offer, Dick Herring--for I know you by your voice,--
but my legs are well accustomed to carry me; and they'll do so as long
as I need their services, I hope."
"Oh, nonsense, man; there's a storm brewing, and you'll be wet to the
skin, if you keep to your legs; but just do you get in, and I'll whisk
you along to your journey's end in no time," answered Dick Herring.
"That's kind of you, Dick, anyhow," said Peter; "but as to the storm, I
don't feel as if one was coming, and I'm not often deceived."
"Just now you are, though, depend on't, mate. Come, step in, I want to
do you a service, and it isn't the like of me that would do you a harm,"
said Herring, in a persuasive tone.
Peter, who was in reality very tired from his long walk, was glad to
have a lift, and his doubts as to Herring's intentions, which from
certain circumstances known to him he entertained, having been quieted,
he stepped up to the cart to get in. In an instant he felt himself
lifted up by strong arms, and placed on a seat next to another man who
had not before spoken, and the cart drove on at a rapid rate.
In vain he begged that poor old Trusty might be lifted in with him.
"The dog has four legs, and can run as fast as the horse; we can't stop
for him," said the man, in a gruff and feigned voice, though Peter
thought that he recognised it as that of a notorious smuggler living not
far off.
"I told you, Peter, that I'd whisk you along pretty quickly over the
road, and I am doing so, you'll allow," observed Herring, in a tone
which the blind man did not like, but he said nothing. He was, however,
after some time, convinced that they had gone much farther than the two
miles which he calculated would take him to the inn where he had
proposed sleeping. He became aware, too, that the cart had altered its
direction, by the feeling of the wind on his face. On they went at a
rapid rate for some time, when Peter inquired why they were conveying
him from the place to which he wished to go.
"We've a good reason, Master Peter," answered Dick Herring, in a still
more disagreeable tone than before; "you know a thing or two more than
you ought to know, and we intend to keep you out of harm's way for a day
or two; and that's the fact, if it pleases you to know it."
Peter was aware that expostulation was useless, so he resigned himself
to his fate, believing that Herring, though a daring smuggler and
utterly lawless, would do him no personal harm. He felt the cart go up
and down several rough places, and he was certain that it doubled
several times, and had made a full circuit more than once. The object
of the smugglers, it was evident, was to mislead him and to make him
suppose that he had gone a long distance. He kept his own counsel,
however, and in a short time the cart stopped, and he was told to get
out. He called Trusty to come and lead him, but no Trusty came.
"The dog couldn't quite keep up with us, and maybe he has lost his way,"
said Herring. "But never do you mind, Peter, I'll lead you; here, take
my arm."
Poor Peter did as he was directed, and then he found himself going up
some very rough stone steps, and then he knew by the change of air that
he had been led through a doorway into a room, and that there were
people in it, though they did not speak; and then Dick led him into
another room, and told him to sit down on a chair, and that he must make
up his mind to remain there for some days to come, and that if he
promised to be quiet and to behave well, he should be well treated.
Saying this, the smuggler walked out of the room, and bolted the door
behind him.
Peter immediately got up and felt about the room. It contained, he
ascertained, a low pallet bed, a table and a chair, and had a small
lattice window, with a bar across it; but it was so small that even
without the bar he could scarcely have got through it had he wished. He
opened the window gently. He could hear the sough of the sea on the
beach, far down below him. "I thought as much," he said to himself,
"they have brought me to old Dame Herring's cottage, upon Eastdown
Cliff. I was here as a boy more than once, and could find my way from
it easy enough, if I had Trusty's help to keep me from any pits or holes
dug of late. I know the reason why this has been done. They suspect
that I know what I do know, and perhaps more, and they want to keep me
out of the way till they have carried out their undertaking. However,
they might have treated me worse; so I'll not complain, but try and take
matters easily."
Saying this he took off his wallet and the knapsack which contained his
wares, and threw himself at his length on the bed, intending to go to
sleep. He had not lain there very long when the door opened and some
person looked in, and placing something on the table retired again,
bolting the door. In a short time several people came into the larger
room, most of whom Peter knew by their heavy tread were men in large
boots.
"Well! Mother Herring, do you promise us success in our venture, we've
been waiting long enough for it?" said one of the new comers in a gruff
voice.
"If you do as I bid you this time you will succeed," answered an old
woman, whom by her cracked, harsh voice, Peter, even had she not been
named, would at once have recognised. "But, as I before told you, if
you want to make all secure, get hold of the son of old Ludlow. He
dotes on the boy, and you would have the father in your power, if you
could get hold of the son."
"So we should, long ago, if it hadn't been for blind Peter;
howsomedever, we can keep him quiet for some time."
"I mind the time before the captain came to the Tower, the matter was
much more easier than it now is," said an old man, whom Peter knew as a
daring smuggler all his life. "That was a first-rate place, I believe
you."
"Then why not get rid of the captain and his family?" croaked out old
Mother Herring; "what business has he to come interfering with people's
rights?"
"More easily said, Mother Herring, than done," exclaimed another of the
party. "The captain is a tough old bird, not to be driven from his
perch in a hurry."
"Ha! ha! ha! May be I'll put you up to a trick or two, my sons, that'll
make the place too hot to hold him," croaked out the old woman. "Just
you be guided by me, and all will go right, depend on that;" and she
gave way to a fit of laughter which almost choked her.
Peter did not hear more of consequence just then, but he had heard
enough to show him that the smugglers were prepared to run a cargo of
contraband goods on the coast, and in case of failure they wished to get
young Stephen Ludlow into their power, that they might make terms with
his father. Had it not been for Peter, who had been long aware of their
object, they might ere this have accomplished it, and he now guessed
that they had discovered that it was owing to him that they had not
hitherto succeeded. At length Peter, being very tired from his long
walk, to sleep. He had a notion that the people in the next room were
taking supper, and indulging in a carouse, of the materials for which
their calling afforded them an ample supply.
The smugglers were drinking when Peter went to sleep, and when he again
woke some were still at the table, and talking loudly and wildly, though
others had, apparently overcome by the liquor, dropped off to sleep.
They spoke as men do when the wine is in their heads, without fear or
caution. The wildest proposals were made to carry out their objects.
One man suggested that if they could get rid of their two principal
opponents, Mr Ludlow and Captain Askew, they would have no one to
interfere with them. The idea was taken up by others, who did not
scruple to talk of murder; though, tipsy as they were, when they spoke
of so awful a deed, they sank their voices so low that Peter did not
clearly hear all they said. His ear, however, caught one or two ominous
expressions, such as--"over the cliff," "sink him out at sea," "entice
him from the house," "the sooner the better." These words convinced him
that the speakers would not scruple to commit the most atrocious crime
if they fancied it would advance their interests. They made him also
very anxious to get away to warn those who were threatened of their
danger.
But how to get away was the question. He might fancy that no one was
observing him, and yet be watched the whole time. One thing he hoped
was that Herring and his associates, trusting to his blindness, fancied
that he did not know where he had been carried to, and that he could not
possibly get away. By degrees the speakers dropped off, and the loud
snores which came from the room showed that the occupants were mostly
asleep. He hoped that all might be so. Considering what he should do
kept him broad awake. He had not remained so long, when his attention
was drawn to a scratching under the window. The night was warm, and the
lattice had been left open. He went to the window and put out his hand,
and directly he did so he felt it licked by the tongue of his faithful
Trusty. He put down his hand still further, and calling the animal by
name, it leaped up and he was able to drag it in. Poor Trusty showed
his delight at meeting his master by jumping up and licking his face and
hands all over. "But can you help me out of this, good Trusty?" said
Peter, whispering in the dog's ear.
Trusty, as if he understood the meaning, immediately went to the window,
and leaped up on the sill.
"He thinks that I can get out," said Peter to himself. "He is seldom
wrong--I will try." Suiting the action to the word, he put his head out
between the bars. "Where my head can go my body can follow, but my body
must go first just now."
After twisting his body a variety of ways, he worked his way between the
bars, to which he held on while he lowered himself to the ground. The
leading-string was still attached to Trusty's collar, and taking it in
his hand, he said, "Go on, Trusty." Trusty, pulling hard, led the way,
as if he was conscious that there was danger in delay, and Peter set off
as fast as he could venture to move.
No sound came from the cottage, and he had every reason to hope that he
should completely effect his escape. Trusty, that good sagacious dog,
worthy of his name, pulled on as if he well knew that it was important
to leave old Dame Herring's cottage far behind before daybreak. Peter
decided on going first to the tower, that he might consult with the
captain, to whom he knew he could speak as to a friend. Should he go to
Mr Ludlow, he was afraid that the magistrate would perhaps immediately
send off to Dame Herring's Cottage, and attempt to apprehend the whole
body of smugglers. "If he does, what will be the advantage? None at
all. I know what I heard, but I cannot swear to the voices of any one
of them and they will all escape, and revenge themselves on me; not that
I care for that if I can do others a service, but it's hard to suffer
and do no good to any one."
The captain was an early riser. He had scarcely been a minute on foot
when he heard blind Peter knocking at the door. Peter was admitted, and
his story soon told. "I will consider what is to be done, and will give
due warning to Mr Ludlow," answered the captain. "But one thing is
certain, Peter, that you must lie by for a while, and take up your abode
in the tower. The ruffians would treat you with little ceremony if they
were to catch you as you were wandering about the country, but they
would scarcely venture to molest you while you are here--indeed, there
is no reason that they should know that you are here."
There was a small vacant room on the ground-floor of the Tower--into
this the captain conducted Peter, and told him that he must consider
himself a prisoner there till the smugglers were captured or driven out
of the country, and it was safe for him again to go out by himself. He
promised him, however, that he should not be without visitors, and that
Margery and Charley Blount should come and read to him.
Captain Askew, having made these arrangements for the safety of the poor
blind man, considered how he could warn Mr Ludlow of the danger
threatening Charley Blount was the best messenger he could select. The
hall was nine miles off, but Charley said that the distance was nothing,
and that he would be there and back by dinner-time; so having received
his instructions he set off, with a stout stick in his hand, in high
spirits, observing that should the smugglers wish to stop him, they
would have to run very fast before he was caught.