At the appointed time, Captain Gil made his way to where, some twenty
strong, his crew were sitting and standing beneath a wide-spreading
tree, with some forty horses grouped around, one and all heavily laden
with sacks, barrels slung on either side, heavy boxes, and rolls of
sailcloth. Some of the men were smoking, some minding the horses, while
others lolled about, half-asleep, upon the ground.
If by chance any of the few rustic people, whose houses were scattered
here and there, could have seen them in the shadow of the trees, they
might very well have been excused for taking them for occupants of some
nether region; while those whose horses did duty for the night, if they
found them wet and weary, said nothing, but took it all as a matter of
course, feeling as they did sure of encountering trouble if they made a
stir, and being satisfied that their silence would be paid for in some
indirect manner.
Farmer Goodsell's team was taken several times over; and one morning he
went into the stables to find the horses so weary and dirty that he
swore he would stand it no longer, and fetched his wife to see.
She held up her hands and opened her eyes wide.
"It be witchcraft, Jarge," she exclaimed.
"Nay--nay, girl," he cried; "it be somebody else's craft, and what's
that on the bin?"
Mrs Farmer Goodsell took up a packet, opened, looked at it, and her
eyes brightened as she ran to the light.
"As fine a bit of silk as I ever see," she said, with sparkling eyes;
"and look, what's this?"
"Indian weed, my lass--tobacky," said the farmer, with his face growing
smooth. "Hi! Harry, feed these horses and give them a rub down."
This was a sample of the treatment the owners received, so as the years
glided on it grew to be the custom to say nothing whatever when horses
were taken, for a present of some kind was certain to follow--
strangely-shaped flasks of strong waters, pieces of velvet from Italy,
curious bits of silk from India and China; and, for the use of horses
taken from the Pool-house, Master Cobbe, just when he had rather angrily
told his daughter that he should keep the stable locked, found a heavy
bale in the porch one morning, wet with dew, and on opening it he found
himself the possessor of a soft carpet from the land of the Turk.
It was well known that some kind of secret business was carried on, but
the more sage people shut their eyes and said nothing, while the weak
talked of witches and the like, and laid the strange proceedings at
Mother Goodhugh's door. For the greater the ignorance, the deeper the
love of the mysterious and weird; and hence, with a monarch on the
throne whose wisdom was developing itself in literary crusades against
the sin of spiritual commerce, it was no wonder that when distorted
verbal versions of the British Solomon's utterances reached Roehurst
they should tend to strengthen the simple-minded people's belief in
witchcraft and wise-womanry, evil spirits, and visions of the night.
The appearance of Gil amongst the resting men acted like magic. A few
short orders, and without a word a couple of lanterns were lit, attached
to the foremost horses, and, well-armed, silent, and watchful, the
little party set off in single file right through the forest, Wat Kilby
taking the lead and the captain walking with the rear.
Once or twice there were short halts to readjust some pack or tighten
the ropes that slung some cask; but otherwise there was the quiet tread
of the horses' hoofs and an occasional snort to break the silence of the
night. Not a man spoke save the gaunt old sailor Wat, who gruffly gave
an order or two, and perhaps changed the direction of the convoy.
Trees switched and rustled their branches as the heavy horseloads
brushed against them; the wild animals of the wood scampered off at the
sight of the dim lanterns; but they had been journeying on for quite an
hour before a faint whistle placed Wat Kilby on the _qui vive_, when,
seeing what was wrong, he and a couple more men stole off amongst the
trees to get to the rear of those who were watching the strange file,
and directly after the two clerks were struggling on the ground in utter
darkness, while the horses passed on, and Gil came abreast.
"What is it?" he asked, in a low voice.
"We've made a mistake, skipper," growled Wat Kilby. "It's the parson
and the holy father."
"What were they doing here?"
"Watching," growled Wat.
"Pass on, every one," said Gil, quietly. "I will speak to them. I'll
join you at the mouth."
The sound of the horses' hoofs was already dying away in the distance,
and Wat and his companions seemed to melt softly into the darkness,
while, quietly going down on one knee, the captain drew off the rough
pieces of cloth from the faces of the prostrate clerks, who, finding
themselves at liberty, sat up.
"I hope you are not hurt, father," said Gil to Father Brisdone.
"Ah, my son, is it you?" was the reply. "Nay, I am not hurt, though the
men were rough."
"But I am hurt," cried Master Peasegood, angrily. "I thought it was one
of your games, Captain Gil Carr. Zounds, sir, Sir Thomas Beckley shall
know of it, and constables and fighting-men shall come and clear your
nest of hornets away. Zounds, father, if I were of your faith, I'd
excommunicate him."
"You are hasty, Master Peasegood," said Gil, quietly. "Do not rail at
me. I have done nothing but set you at liberty."
"But you had us seized."
"Nay, indeed, I knew nothing until I came upon you here, and I have set
you at liberty. You are quite free; go in peace."
"Quite free; go in peace!" cried Master Peasegood. "Zounds, sir, is
this a free country--is this his Majesty's high-way, or are you the lord
of it all! I'll have it stopped."
"Nay, nay, Master Peasegood, you are angry, and you will stop nothing.
You must have seen the forest spirits, and they interfered with you."
"Bah! away with thy trash."
"Ah, well, call it what you like. Good-night, Master Peasegood;
good-night, Father Brisdone; can I do anything for you? I must go. I
shall tell the forest spirits that they need fear nothing from you,
Master Peasegood. They must have thought they had captured the doughty
knight Sir Mark. Good-night."
"The impudent dog! to compare my figure with that of a spindle of a
knight. Bah! tush! rubbish! Come, Father Brisdone, we will get
indoors; the night-air is unwholesome with these spirits about. But
he's right; I shall say nothing, and I'm sure that nothing will fall
from thee."
The two friends turned and went back towards the parson's cottage, while
Gil hurried on to overtake his party of well-armed men.
He was not long in reaching the last horse, and walked steadily by its
side; he came to a halt in the dark ravine just below where Mistress
Anne had been seated for so long upon the stone, and here a busy scene
took place, the horses being rapidly unladen, and pack, chest, and
barrel being carried or rolled along a shelf of rock beneath an
overhanging ledge of sandstone, where the little gorge seemed to come to
a sudden stop before branching out in a fresh direction.
Sentries had been placed at some distance along the only approach to the
place; and while they kept guard one of the lanterns was carried in
through a rift in the rock, and placed upon the block of stone, where it
shed its rays upon the scene, lighting up a chamber that had evidently
at some very remote time been cut from the rock, another communicating
with it at the back; and here on shelf and ledge were piled up in
picturesque confusion what seemed to be ships' stores, and a
heterogeneous collection of barrels, bales and kegs. Some evidently
contained gunpowder, while others as certainly were filled with that
more humble meal--flour. Then there were rolls of sailcloth, coils of
rope, racks of swords and pikes, and a couple of small pieces of
artillery.
There was no confusion: bale, keg, barrel, and box were carried in by
the men in perfect silence, till the last load of the horses had been
deposited, when Wat Kilby growled out an order, and four men put their
shoulders to a huge mass of stone, which they rolled over twice, when it
blocked up the low entrance to the cave; a few branches were carefully
dragged back to lie athwart it, and the party once more set off as
silently as they had come, but this time with the captain in front and
Wat Kilby at his side.
"You will have plenty of time on your hands for the next month," said
the former; "you had better keep an eye on that fellow, Abel Churr. I
have been thinking which would be best: to catch and threaten him--"
"That's one way," said Wat.
"To bribe--"
"Two ways."
"Or to take no notice."
"Three ways."
"If he gets in, which he could not do without help, he would only take a
few odds and ends that we should never miss. The awkwardness would be
another party knowing anything about the store when we are away. One
might come back from a voyage to find the whole place wrecked."
"What do you say to shutting him up for a month to bring him to his
senses?"
"Would not do," said Gil, as they trudged on through the forest.
"Take him off with us to sea?"
"No, I would not do that."
"Hang him, then, out of the way," growled Wat. "I'll bury him after,
for he don't deserve such a Christian burial as dropping over the side
with a shot at his heels, to be standing up at the bottom of the sea
ready to rise again."
No more was said, and the strange, weird-looking train passed silently
on through the forest till the cultivated land was neared, when, without
a word, the strength of the party seemed to gradually diminish, a team
of horses dropping behind here, a pair there, a single horse further on,
till at last horses and men had all disappeared, and Wat and the captain
stood together in a moist-smelling glade, with the early morning air
coming in gentle puffs, sometimes salt from the sea, with the faint,
peculiar odour of decaying seaweed, sometimes sweetly-scented with the
hay which farmers here and there were making for their winter store.
"Let Abel Churr rest," said the captain quietly. "I may find means of
quieting his tongue."
"I'd like to do it myself," growled Wat, as they separated, but only for
the latter to be called back.
"Have you been hanging about the Pool-house lately, Wat?"
The great fellow shuffled about, and rubbed one ear.
"You need not answer," said Gil, quietly, and he walked away.
Volume 1, Chapter XIV.