Next morning John Trevanion, fresh and ruddy, dressed in white breeches
and a blue coat with shining buttons, rode gaily down to the Five
Pilchards and summoned Doubledick to the door.
"Well, you did the business, I see," he said jovially. "A small
beginning: I wish my cellars held more."
"Iss, fay, a little small haul, to be sure; little and good. Hee! hee!
But, Maister Trevanion, I've summat plaguey awk'ard to tell 'ee."
"What's that?" said Trevanion, with an uneasy look.
"Why, drown me if old Joe didn' come upon us, and, worse than that, when
we'd cracked him on the head, who should come bouncing down-along but
Squire's boy and young Sam Pollex, vowin' and swearin' they'd shoot us
through the gizzard if we laid a finger on the old man."
"The deuce they did! and you knocked them on the head, of course?"
The look of uneasiness passed from Trevanion's face.
"Well, no, not 'zackly. 'Twas Squire's son, you see."
"What of that? You should have cracked their numskulls together and
sent 'em home howling. Afraid of two boys! What did you do, may I ask?"
"Crackin' skulls is all very fine, but we didn' want a crowner's 'quest
on young Squire. No, no, we don't want hangman's necklace chokin' the
breath out of us. We let 'em take old Joe home-along, arter they'd give
their Bible word to be mum as gravestones."
"Then you were a pack of fools. Don't you see the monkeys were spying
on you? 'Twas they brought Joe, without a doubt, though I'd like to
know how they got wind of the business."
"Well, if I didn' think it! ... Here's Zacky Tonkin. Maister Trevanion
was sayin' as they two brats spied on us, Zacky."
"Not they, 'a b'lieve," said Tonkin, who had come up. "Young Squire
said he'd no mind to meddle wi' the business, but was only a bit tender
over old Joe."
"And you believe that!" said Trevanion, angrily flicking his
riding-whip. "Make no mistake, the Squire has turned on you. I happen
to know that Mildmay has been twice to the Towers of late; the Squire's
as poor as a church mouse, and informer's pay will be riches to him."
"Squire turn informer!" cried Tonkin. "I can't believe it."
"I can, though," said Doubledick. "When a man's as low down in the
world as Squire, he'll do a deal o' dirtiness to fill his purse, 'a
b'lieve."
"Of course he will," said Trevanion. "You don't know the world, Tonkin.
Depend upon it, a good many golden guineas will find their way to the
Towers before a week's out."
Tonkin was an honest fellow, save in so far as the King's revenue was
concerned, and had that simplicity of soul which is incredulous of
trickery in others. He was not proof against the cunning suggestions of
Trevanion. Naturally short-tempered and violent, he smote the flank of
Trevanion's horse a blow that set it prancing, and cried with a savage
oath:--
"Then I'll make 'em pay for 't, as sure as my name be Zack Tonkin. I
will so."
"Hee! hee! That 'a will," said Doubledick, rubbing his hands. "They
golden guineas 'll be a bad egg, to be sure."
Trevanion smiled. He had laid the train; he could trust his minions to
fire it.
"Well, we'll speak no more of that," he said. "I'm riding to Truro: can
you tell what for?"
"Not for more furnichy?" said Tonkin.
"Goin' a-courtin', hee! hee!" smirked Doubledick.
"No, no; I shan't trouble the parson yet awhile. I'm going to open the
mines again, my men."
"Then I'm sorry for 'ee," said Tonkin bluntly. "Mines were worked out
long ago."
"Maybe, maybe not. I'm going to try. I shall begin in quite a small
way. I shan't fling my money into the earth as my cousin did. But I
mean to try my luck, and within a week or two I shall have a few men at
work."
"'Twill be good for the parish," said Doubledick. "The miners are
drouthy souls, and have a proper taste for good sperits. Ay, sure,
'twill do us all good."
"You won't give up the trade, sir?" enquired Tonkin.
"Not I. The Polkerran men will do more than ever before. A fig for
your Mildmays and Polwheles--Polwhele is still riding-officer, isn't he?
My wits against them any day. We'll double our trade with Roscoff this
winter."
"If Delarousse bean't nabbed," said Tonkin. "His game of privateerin'
will souse him in hot water one o' these days."
"Oh! we can do without Delarousse. There's a man in Roscoff, no friend
of his, who will deal with us better than he."
"It do maze me, Maister Trevanion," said Doubledick, "that arter bein'
away all these years ye know so much about the trade."
"I keep my eyes open, that's all," replied Trevanion, with a laugh.
"Well, I must be off. You can tell the neighbours about the mines. I'm
glad to do something for the old village."
He rode away, giving smiling greetings to the people, men and women,
whom he passed on the road.
"A fine feller!" said Doubledick, enthusiastically. "'Twill be heyday in
village, Zacky; stirring life, and not so much of a tomb as 'tis since
Squire became a pauper."
"But I'm sorry he do want us to break with Delarousse. He be a good
trader, for a Frenchman. Howsomever, if there be a better, all the
better for we, to be sure."
The men parted, to retail to their friends and neighbours the pleasing
news of the great things John Trevanion was about to do for the village.
Roscoff, the place mentioned in the course of their conversation, was a
little port in Brittany which had become the chief seat of the
contraband trade with the south-west of England since a restrictive Act
of Parliament had put a stop to it in the Channel Islands. The French
Government had made it a free port to smugglers, and in a few years it
had grown from a tiny fishing village to a thriving town. There were
three classes of people engaged in the contraband trade. The freighters
consigned or received the goods, and paid the expenses of their
shipment. The boatmen conveyed them from port to port, always on
moonless nights, and usually when a strong wind was blowing. The
tub-carriers bore them to their destination. The boatmen received a
fixed sum for each trip, the tub-carriers for each cargo run, and
frequently in addition a portion of the goods, or a small share in the
proceeds.
Until John Trevanion reappeared in Polkerran, Isaac Tonkin had been the
principal freighter of the village, and was the owner and master of the
lugger which plied between it and Roscoff. His dealings were chiefly
with a certain Jean Delarousse, a ship-owner of Roscoff, who was
notorious also as a daring seaman, and in his privateer vessel preyed on
English shipping in the Channel between Poole and the Lizard.
Delarousse had never come to Polkerran, but he was well known to Tonkin
and the crew of his lugger, the Isaac and Jacob. Tonkin having little
capital, the cargoes run at Polkerran were usually small, and were
disposed of solely among the innkeepers, farmers, and gentry of the
neighbourhood. Now that Trevanion had come home, the Polkerran folk
expected great developments in the trade, and looked forward to an
exciting and profitable winter. Apart from the monetary gain, the risks
of smuggling exercised a fascination upon those engaged in it, providing
the only excitement in their otherwise dull and monotonous lives. The
fraud on the revenue weighed very lightly on their consciences. In
their view they were entitled to the full value of the goods for which
they had honestly paid, and the Government officials were thieves and
tyrants. To best the Customs and Excise was both a business and a
sport.
It was not long before the consequences of Dick's intervention on behalf
of Joe Penwarden made themselves felt. Hitherto the smugglers had
recognised the Trevanions of the Towers as rather for them than against
them, but now, actuated by John Trevanion's malicious suggestion, they
looked on them in a different light. For the first time a Trevanion had
ranged himself on the side of the representatives of the law, and
Tonkin, resenting what he regarded as defection, soon began to show that
in threatening vengeance he meant to be as good as his word.
One morning Dick, going down with Sam to inspect the night lines he had
set in the waters of Trevanion Bay, discovered with surprise and
annoyance that they had been cut. A day or two afterwards they found
their boat, which they had drawn up as usual above high-water mark,
bumping among the rocks half a mile up the coast. They did not report
these occurrences, hoping that they were nothing but a mark of temporary
ill-feeling and would soon cease. But when for the third time their
lines were tampered with, Dick became seriously concerned. The fish they
caught were a very important part of the provisions for the household.
What was not required at once was salted and dried for consumption when
fishing was over for the season. Without these constant supplies they
would have to draw more largely on their pigs and poultry, which they
were accustomed to sell. Dick was unwilling to impart his troubles to
any one, and for several nights he and Sam kept watch, hoping that if
the culprits were caught in the act, the fear of exposure would put a
stop to their mischief. On three nights nothing happened: and yet, on
the first night when they left the lines unguarded, the same fate befell
them.
"This is more than I can bear," cried Dick, in the morning. "I shall
tell Petherick."
Petherick was the village constable, who filled also the offices of
sexton, bell-ringer, and beadle in the parish church.
"Bless 'ee, you'll waste yer breath," said Sam. "Old Petherick be a
crony o' Tonkin, and wouldn' lift a finger against him, without it were
murder or arson: and then he'd have to get the sojers to help him. Why,
'tis said he've let 'em keep the tubs in church-tower sometimes when the
preventives have been smellin' too close."
"Well, we must put a stop to it somehow. I'll tell Joe, and see what he
has to say."
Later in the day he went into the village to buy some new fishing tackle
at a general-shop, where the folk could buy tea, sugar, cheese, needles,
thread, letter-paper, bootlaces--in short, every small article they
needed. On his return, he heard a hubbub proceeding from the village
green, where wrestling-bouts, games of quoits, dog-fights, and other
sports took place. In the midst was a duck-pond. Bending his steps
thither to see what was going on, he beheld Sam with his back against a
tree, sturdily defending himself with fists and feet against a crowd of
the village lads, among whom the hulking form of Jake Tonkin was
conspicuous.
"Heave un in duck-pond," he heard Jake cry.
"You'd better!" he shouted, rushing forward to assist his companion.
The crowd fell back as he forced his way through it, bowling one fellow
over like a ninepin, and driving another out of his path with a shove
that nearly sent him into the pond. It is probable that his energy, and
the prestige attached to him as the Squire's son, would have put an end
to the affair; but it chanced that John Trevanion rode by at this
moment, and reining up his horse, contrived in some subtle manner to
indicate that his sympathy was with the larger party. Only this could
explain the sudden change in their attitude. They closed round Dick and
Sam with derisive yells.
"Gie un both a duckin'," shouted one, and they made a sudden concerted
rush, trying to seize the two boys.
Dick, never having been to school, had never had occasion or opportunity
to learn the noble art; but his muscles were in good condition, and the
obvious necessity was to make full use of them. Standing beside Sam
against the tree, he hit out against any head, trunk, or shoulder that
came within reach, Sam making good play as before with feet as well as
arms. One young fisher retired with a crimson nose, another with a bump
over one eye, a third shouting that his leg was broken. All the time
John Trevanion sat his horse, smiling, and flinging out now and then an
encouraging word, which might have been intended for either side, but
was appropriated by Tonkin's crew.
Courage and the best will in the world cannot prevail over a triple
excess of numbers. The fisher-lads were still six when their wounded
comrades had retired to the rear. Led by Jake Tonkin they hurled
themselves upon the two defenders. For a few minutes there was a brisk
scrimmage; many good blows were given and exchanged; then Dick and Sam
fell, to be immediately pounced on by the victors, who caught them by
legs and arms and began to drag them down to the pond.
They were within a yard of the brink when a loud voice thundered a
command to halt, and a riding-whip cracked and curled its thong round
the legs and backs of the aggressors. With howls of pain they released
their victims and fled across the green. Rising, bruised and muddy,
from the ground, the two boys saw Mr. Polwhele, the riding-officer,
close by on horseback, his face flushed and stern-set with anger.
"You look on and do nothing!" he said indignantly to John Trevanion.
"My dear sir, why should I interfere? Boys must fight, let them fight
it out."
"Three to one--is that your idea of fair play?"
Trevanion shrugged.
"Hadn't you better reserve your whip for stimulating your tidesmen, Mr.
Polwhele? They need a little spiriting, if what I hear is true."
And with that as a parting shot Trevanion rode away.
"What was the origin of this?" asked Mr. Polwhele. "I'm sorry to see it,
Master Trevanion."
"'Twas like this, sir," said Sam, rubbing his head and legs alternately.
"I comed upon they chaps, and Jake Tonkin says to me, 'Catched any fish
lately, young Sam?' Says I, ''Tis easier to cut lines, to be sure,'
says I, and then they set on me, and they'd ha' melled and mashed me if
Maister Dick hadn't come up."
"Have they been cutting your lines, then?"
Dick saw no help for it but to acquaint the riding-officer with the
petty persecution he had lately suffered, and the cause of it, which
hitherto Mr. Polwhele had not known.
"'Tis rascally, 'pon my soul it is," said the officer, "and I'm sorry
Penwarden has brought it on ye. Not but 'twas your own doing, Master
Dick; you'd better have kept out of it, though I own 'twas a good deed
to old Joe. I'm on my way to see Sir Bevil, and I'll tell him as a
magistrate, and he'll engage to commit any ruffian that molests ye."
"Not on my account, if you please, Mr. Polwhele," said Dick earnestly.
"There's bad blood between the Towers and the village as it is, and
'twill be ten times worse if Sir Bevil comes into it."
"Maybe you're in the right. Well, I'll see you safe home, and if I may
advise ye, keep out of the way o' the village folk. You're not friends
with Mr. Trevanion seemingly. Is he backing the smugglers, d'ye know?"
"I can't say anything about that. My father has nothing to do with
him."
"Well, well, these family quarrels are common enough. Come along beside
me."
Nothing could have been more unfortunate than the intervention of the
riding-officer. Purely accidental as it was, the villagers regarded it
as another proof of the new alliance between the Towers and the enemy.
John Trevanion did not fail to describe to the elder Tonkin, the next
time he met him, how savagely Mr. Polwhele had laid his whip upon Jake,
and the irate smuggler swore that if he encountered the riding-officer
he would make him pay for it.
That evening Dick consulted Joe Penwarden on the situation, as he had
intended. Joe was much distressed to think that he was the cause of the
bitterness with which the village folk now regarded the family at the
Towers.
"I don't know what you can do," said he. "But let things bide; maybe
they'll see by long and late they've misread 'ee."
"But we can't have our fishing spoilt time after time, Joe."
"'Tis a pretty stoor, be dazed to it!" said Joe, angrily. "And all for
a wambling old carcase like me! Ah! I warn't allus like as I be now.
When Lord Admiral Rodney spoke to me on Plymouth Hoe I was as limber a
young feller as you'd see in Devon or Cornwall. He was goin' along with
two handsome females----but there, I think I've telled 'ee. What I say
is, why did Maister John come home, cuss him? There was none o' this
afore."
"I don't think that's fair, Joe. They'd have run a cargo all the same,
if he were at the ends of the earth; and I couldn't have done
differently."
"Ye may say so, but I hold to it, whatever ye say. He's ill-wished 'ee,
that's the truth, and a pity it is he ever showed his face here."
Two evenings later, when Dick was struggling with a piece of Latin prose
for Mr. Carlyon, there was a knock at the outer door, and Reuben
admitted Penwarden, with Jake Tonkin firmly in his clutch.
"Axe Squire if I can have speech with him, Reuby," he said.
Mr. Trevanion came out into the hall.
"Well, what's this, Joe?" he asked.
"I catched this young reptile a-meddlin' wi' Maister Dick's lines,
Squire," said Penwarden, "so I brought him up to be dealt with according
to law."
"Meddling with his lines, indeed!" cried the Squire in surprise. "Why
should he do that? What have you to say for yourself, rascal?"
Jake had nothing to say for himself, but stood with a sullen glower upon
his face.
"'Tis not the first time either, Squire, and I be mazed as you didn'
know it," Penwarden continued.
"I knew nothing about it. Dick," he called into the room, "come here."
Dick obeyed reluctantly.
"Penwarden tells me," said his father, "that your lines have been
tampered with. Is that true?"
"Yes, sir."
"How often?"
"Three or four times within a week or so."
"Why did you not tell me?"
"I didn't want to bother you, sir."
"But this is new; it shows a hostile spirit----. Well, I'll say no more
now. As for you, you young scoundrel, I'm not a justice, or I'd commit
you. You shall take your choice; a sound flogging, or haled before Sir
Bevil: that will mean three months in Truro jail. Which is it to be?"
"I don't want to see Sir Bevil," said Jake, sullenly.
"Strip off your coat, then. Reuben, bring my whip."
Dick went away: he could not remain to see the lad thrashed.
"Now, Reuben, half a dozen lashes," said the Squire when his man
returned. "No; I'll do it myself. Stoop!"
Dick pressed his fingers into his ears when at the third or fourth
stroke Jake began to howl. The Squire gave him full measure; then bade
him begone, and take care not to offend again, declaring that he should
not get off so easily next time.
"Now, Dick," he said, returning to the room, "what is the meaning of all
this?"
Thereupon Dick made a clean breast of it, telling all that had happened
since the rescue of Penwarden. The Squire's face clouded as he listened
to the story.
"John Trevanion is at the bottom of this," he cried, thumping the table.
"They would never believe I was against them unless their minds had been
poisoned. I will see Tonkin to-morrow and get at the truth." Then,
with one of the swift changes of mood characteristic of him, he added:
"No, I won't do it. I won't gratify that cur; he shall never think I
care a snap for him. Tell me if anything of the kind happens again, and
I will myself go over to see Sir Bevil. On my life, the toad shall
smart if he is proved to be stirring folk against me."
Every succeeding incident in this series did but confirm the village
folk in their conviction that the Squire was now their declared enemy,
and in staunch alliance with the revenue officers.