The rocky ravine which looked in the darkness like the entrance to some
mystic region had hardly been vacated by Captain Gil's crew, and the
storehouse that he had formed in this stronghold of nature left to its
solitude, before there was a curious rustling noise on high; a piece of
bark fell to the ground; then a dry, dead twig; then the rustling was
continued, and ceased for quite a quarter of an hour before it began
again.
This time it was commenced more loudly, and a branch of a tree overhead
in the darkness quivered and jerked.
"Too--hoo--hoo--hoo--hoo--hoo--o--hoo--o--o--o--o!" cried an owl
somewhere close at hand, when the noise suddenly ceased, and all was
silent once more for a good half-hour. Then the rustling was resumed,
and in the dim starlight a figure was seen to descend a tree, rustling
and scraping the bark till it reached the patch of soil in which the
gnarled oak was rooted, and, thrusting aside the bushes, the figure made
its way down to the trickling stream, which, after running apparently
from the rock, coursed amongst the stones and ferns, half-hidden from
the light of day, down the ravine bottom, to join some larger rivulet
miles away.
The dimly-seen figure crept cautiously along for some distance without
venturing to stand erect, but at last, feeling apparently free from
danger, it began to walk with less circumspection, though always in a
flinching, animal-like fashion.
Day was breaking as it reached Mother Goodhugh's cottage, and after
glancing up at the window, to be sure that the inmate was not stirring,
the visitor crept up the bank opposite, and beneath a spreading
fir-tree, where, curling itself up in an animal way, it went off to
sleep.
Some three hours later Mother Goodhugh was partaking of her breakfast--
no simple meal, but one of substance, graced as it was with eggs and
goodly bacon-rashers, gifts of foolish peasants' wives who came to
consult her concerning sick pigs, failing poultry, and milk-dry cows--
the door was wide open, and the sparrows, after chirping about amongst
the thatch, dropped down one by one, hopped right in, and kept picking
up the crumbs the old woman threw from time to time upon the red brick
floor.
Sometimes she made a sound with her lips which brought others down to
partake of her bounty, much to the annoyance of an old one-eyed magpie,
which hopped to and fro in a wicker-cage, and cried, "_chark_," and
"_ha_, _ha_, _ha_!" the former being the nearest approach it ever got to
charcoal, a word which, with brimstone and powder, Mother Goodhugh
intended to form her pet's _repertoire_.
The sparrows hopped in over the lintel, seized crumbs, and flew off over
and over again. Then there was a loud fluttering of wings, the birds
departed, and Abel Churr entered, brushing off the fir-needles which
clung to his hair and gaberdine.
"Just in time, mother," he chuckled. "Here, I've brought you the toad
weed picked at midnight, and here are stink-horns and toadstools, fit to
brew the strongest charms you will. Give me some breakfast."
"Shame upon thee, idler, for wanting to live on a lone widow's
substance!" cried Mother Goodhugh.
"Don't I help thee to all kinds of trade to make the substance rich?"
chuckled Abel Churr; "but wait a bit, mother, I've found a
treasure-house; a store of riches; and I'm a made man. I know where to
find all that I want from time to time. Would'st like to share it?"
"Yes, yes," cried the old woman, eagerly; "what have you found, Abel?"
"Help me to something to eat," he said, with a cunning smile, "and then
I'll talk to thee."
She hastened to put before him bread and milk, and eggs, and bacon, of
which he freely partook, gazing at the hostess from time to time in a
peculiar way, as if he had some further plan at heart.
"You don't tell me what you've found," said Mother Goodhugh. "Come,
tell me, lad. You'll be happier for having some one to share it all."
"Found!" he cried, laughing; "I've learned that about Captain Culverin
that he would kill me for knowing, did he find me out. Ha, ha, ha! I
shall be rich now, and can help thee back more than thou hast helped me
to, Mother Goodhugh. Where are the strong waters?"
"I have none," said the woman sulkily. "It is a lie," he cried,
sharply; and, rising, he stepped to the little chimney-piece, raised an
old shell, and took out a key, which he held up, laughing.
"Nay, nay, give me the key," cried the old woman, making a dash to seize
it; but with a savage thrust, more like a blow, he sent her staggering
across the brick floor, to fall heavily, and lie for a few moments half
stunned, while, chuckling with glee, Churr opened a corner-cupboard and
took out a quaint-looking black bottle, which he carried to the table.
"Coward--thief!" cried the old woman, as she struggled up; "thou shalt
not have it;" and she ran to the table, when, with a malignant look,
Churr struck her heavily with the back of his hand, sending her against
the wall, where she stood panting.
"Keep away, or I'll pook thee again," he cried, sourly.
"Drink it, if you dare," she cried, with flashing eyes. "It is poison
of my own brewing. Drink, and die then: coward, to strike me thus."
Abel Churr's whole aspect changed; his yellow countenance looked
haggard, and his hand shook, as he stared from the old woman's face to
the bottle, and back again.
"Ha, ha, ha!" laughed Mother Goodhugh, seeing her power; "drink away,
lad, drink. I'll see thee buried beneath some tree, and come and gather
toadstools from off thy grave."
Churr set down the bottle upon the table, and, as he did so, his hands
trembling visibly, Mother Goodhugh slowly sidled up, and was about to
make a pounce upon the flask, when, with a cunning flash of the eye,
Churr forestalled her and snatched it up, laughing heartily as he took
out the cork, and smelt the contents.
"Old mother of lies," he cried, chuckling. "I'll drink this poison all
day long. Hah!" he ejaculated, shaking the flask so that the spirit
within gurgled. "Hah!"
He placed the vessel to his lips and drank savagely, while Mother
Goodhugh stood glaring at him, with head stretched forward and fingers
crooked like the claws of an animal about to spring.
"Here," he cried, pouring out a little of the spirit in a cup, and
holding it to the old woman; "here, I will not take it all. Drink,
mother, drink."
The old woman eagerly snatched up the cup and drained it.
"That settles it. I thought so," he said, laughing, as he took another
draught. "Poor old Mother Goodhugh will be poisoned, too. Old fool! to
think thou could'st deceive me with such shallow tricks. There," he
continued, after another draught, as he thrust in the cork, and placed
the flask in his breast. "Now I be going away."
"Help me that bottle," cried the old woman. "Don't take away that
flask. It is mine."
"No more thine than mine," cried Churr, turning round at her with a
snarl. "Haven't I for years helped you in getting together what you
have; helped you to cheat and trick the silly, gaping fools about here
with thy mummery? Speak to me again as you did, and I'll go and tell
them all of thy tricks, and jugglery, and putting water in the founder's
moulds to blow them up, and let them see thee as a woman like
themselves--old idiot that you be."
"Tell them," cried Mother Goodhugh, furiously, as she made an effort to
tear the flask from him, but only to be driven back by another furious
blow; "tell them, coward, and they will not believe thee. You mock at
me--do you? You call my spells foolery. We shall see how you will
fare, now that I curse thee, and tell thee that thou shalt not die upon
a bed."
"Curse away, mother," he cried. "I have the strong waters."
"They'll not believe thee; while, if I say the word, there are a dozen
who would slay thee for injuring me, and leave thee to rot in the forest
or die on a mixen."
"Say it then," he cried, with a malignant grin. "Let them try if they
dare."
"We shall see," cried the old woman, stretching out one hand, and gazing
fiercely at her confederate. "I do curse thee sleeping and waking. You
have braved me, Abel Churr, and laughed at all my trade. Now we shall
see."
"Yes," he said, "now we shall see;" and, putting the bottle in his
breast, he turned to the door. "I fear thy threats as much as I do thy
poison. Ha, ha, ha! Poison--brave poison--good poison--poison for
princes. Mother, wouldn't you like to know what I have found out about
Captain Gil?"
"Nay, keep thy knowledge," cried the old woman, fiercely. "I know it,
too. You will not live to enjoy it. Now, get thee gone."
"What!" he said, jeeringly. "Shall I not share my riches with thee, my
dear old partner? Shall we not join now in cheating and tricking some
one better than the wretched village fools? I tell thee that Captain
Gil is rich, and I have his secret: I have found his store."
"And I tell thee, Abel Churr," cried the old woman, "that thou hast
always been a villain, a brute, and a coward to me. If thou knowest
aught of Captain Gil's secret, you will keep it, and share it with none.
From this day I have neither truck nor trade with thee, so go thy way,
and my curse go with thee. But take this to heart as thou goest:
Captain Gil is a stern man, and if thou hast learned aught of his, and
he knows it, look to thyself, or maybe thou'lt be sattled."
Abel Churr uttered an impatient "Pish!" and left the place full of his
discovery. Avoiding the cottages of the workpeople, he went round by
the back of the Pool, to where, like a lawn in the wood, lay a few acres
of grass cut down for hay, a part of which had been stacked, the
remainder lying out to dry, for a heavy rain had checked the carrying
for a day or two.
Churr looked round, listened, made sure that the field was empty, and
then started and looked timidly upwards as a jay uttered a loud harsh
cry and flew towards the wood. Then, crawling to the half-made stack,
he climbed upon it, separated the soft, sweet-scented hay, took a
draught of the spirit, corked the bottle and thrust it in the heap, and
then, nestling down and drawing the hay over him, he was in a few
moments fast asleep.
Volume 1, Chapter XV.