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ANDE TREMBATH
To My Friend
THE RIGHT REV. CORTLANDT WHITEHEAD, S.T.D.
_Bishop of Pittsburgh_
In memory of pleasant hours spent together
at "Burgtown."
[Illustration: ANDE TREMBATH]
ANDE TREMBATH
A Tale of Old Cornwall England
by
MATT. STAN. KEMP
Author of
"Boss Tom"
[Illustration]
C. M. Clark Publishing Co., Inc.
Boston, Mass., U.S.A.
1905
Copyright, 1905, by
C. M. CLARK PUBLISHING CO., Inc.
Boston, Mass., U.S.A.
Entered at
Stationer's Hall, London
Foreign Copyrights Secured
All Rights Reserved
Contents
_CHAPTERS_ PAGE
I A Calamity at the Manor 1
II The Son of a Traitor 16
III The Runaway 26
IV The Primrose Cottage and Tom Glaze 31
V "The Big Ha' Bible Ance His Father's Pride" 41
VI Squire and Parliamentarian 46
VII Tea-table Politics 55
VIII "Off With His Head" 66
IX The Village Stocks 73
X Reparation 77
XI Defeat of Bully Bob Sloan 87
XII Christmas and Christmas Play 98
XIII The Cornish Droll-teller 113
XIV St. George and Fair Sabra 123
XV The Helston Grammar School 135
XVI The Hurling Match 146
XVII The Smugglers' Battle 160
XVIII The Duck Cave Adventure 173
XIX Creakle's Revenge 185
XX Adrift On the Deep 197
XXI Around the Tavern's Flaming Grate 214
XXII The Lycamahoning 240
XXIII The Raft Pilot's Home 253
XXIV The Hunter of the Loop 261
XXV Eureka! The Eldorado! 266
XXVI The Rising 285
XXVII The Secret of the Snuff Box 293
XXVIII Misfortunes 313
XXIX Tom Glaze to the Rescue 327
XXX The Major's Home-Coming 334
XXXI Ande's Revenge 355
XXXII Christmas In the Old Hall 375
Illustrations
Frontispiece _Ande Trembath_
PAGE
"There was a vision of a flying, athletic, youthful
form--clinging with the grip of a vice--" 27
"It's a compact, said the former" 54
"Yes, give three hoots for the red-'eaded Deane and all his
traitor hancestors" 89
"I am that Knight, said Ande, warmly" 128
"They say you are the son of a traitor" 189
"The old hunter straightened up as if shot, and gazed at them" 250
"Sweet bird of the wilderness, sweet is thy song" 302
"The door was opened, and the gleam of candle light shot
over all concerned" 332
"He opened his speech in clear, ringing tones" 364
ANDE TREMBATH
CHAPTER I
A CALAMITY AT THE MANOR
"Never before in the history of the Manor have deeds like these been
perpetrated," said the squire, his genial, rubicund countenance turning
pale with anger.
"Prithee, prithee, cool thyself; look at the affair calmly and you will
speedily discover the rogue," replied the parson.
"Cool myself!" replied the squire, in some heat; "it is easy enough to
talk, but this is the third offence in a week. Last Monday the tulip
beds and shrubbery were trampled and ruined; Wednesday, the fish-pond
drained and the best fish secured; and last night, the unknown miscreant
killed poor, faithful Borlase. It is becoming unbearable,"--and the
squire, with angry features and the semblance of a tear in his eye,
knelt down by the body of the English mastiff to convince himself again
that the life of his canine friend was extinct.
The scene was in a remote corner of the gardens of an old Cornish manor
estate. Some distance away, looming up above the nodding heads of trees,
were the gables and chimney pots of the squire's residence. Near a clump
of shrubbery was the kneeling form of the squire, with flushed face and
unsteady hand, for his soul was trembling with indignation, examining
the head of his slain, four-footed friend. The parson, with dignified
step, was closely scrutinising the ground between the squire and the
road-side hedge.
"Ah! Here, do you see? Here is where the missile struck him." It was the
squire who spoke, for he had found a long deep gash near the right ear.
"From what I can see," said the parson, who was a keen observer, "the
rogue was making for the hedge, the most natural deduction, the hedge
being the nighest escape from the dog. Then," he continued, with
homiletical precision as if outlining a pulpit theme, "since the dog
followed him, he must have hurled some missile at him. What more natural
missile than a stone, and what more natural place to secure it than from
the hedge? Now the missile must be around here somewhere. Ah! Here it
is," and Parson Trant picked up a good sized stone from amidst the
shrubbery. "There is blood upon it; proof, number one; now let us
discover its place in the hedge."
The squire arose and accompanied the parson to the hedge and, after a
minute examination, the stone's former location was discovered.
"So far, good," ejaculated the parson. "Now what servants would be most
likely around the gardens last evening?"
"Tut, tut, you would never make a barrister, parson. To suspect any of
my servants! You are well versed in theology, and no one knows better
how to preach a sermon, but in matters of law and trespass we,
magistrates, must take the precedence."
Now at times Squire Vivian could be as genial and pleasant as the sun on
a June-tide morning. Kind-hearted, generous, frank, bluff, with a rough
veneer of the old-time courtesy was the old squire, and yet with a
choleric spirit underneath all, that would sometimes burst forth into
passionate invective, to the scandal of his friends and to his own
aftertime regret. Add to this a dignified opinion of his position as a
landed magistrate and the squire of Trembath Manor is evident. He had a
goodly amount of hard English sense and in managing his estates and
finances had been tolerably successful, but in sharp penetration of
character and shrewd judgment in other affairs, he was lamentably
deficient. His frank and open nature had not given him much chance to
develop these talents, even had he ever possessed them, and, like many
persons whose positions require talents in which they are lacking, or at
best but meagrely gifted, the squire felt vexed when his little
magisterial keenness was surpassed.
"Tut, tut, parson, you are losing your judgment if you suspect the
servants. There's old George Sloan, the hostler, and Ned Pengilly, the
gardener, the only two persons likely to be on the grounds at that time,
and they loved old Borlase,--ay,--even better than they love his master.
No, no, parson, you are at fault there."
Parson Trant smiled, for he knew one of the chief failings in the
squire's character.
"No, I did not suspect them, but they, being on the grounds, can no
doubt enlighten us and bring to view more evidence. The most learned and
keen-sighted judge, at times, profits by the evidence of common
labourers and country parsons, who are far beneath him in the knowledge
of law and criminal investigation."
"To be sure, to be sure," said the squire, somewhat mollified, "but here
comes Sloan."
An old man, whose erect form and sturdy step belied his grey hair and
wrinkled brows, was seen approaching from the direction of the stables.
"Canst tell us anything more about this outrage, Sloan?"
The hostler was now close at hand and had removed his cap in deference
to the gentlemen near him.
"A bad job, beant it, squire, as I was a-telling nephe Bob this marning.
No, sir, I can't say as Hi knaws much. I 'eard Borlase barking
savage-like last night, and I ups and slips quiet-like down from my room
o'er the stables, and run through the paddock just in time to see the
rogue on the other side of the 'edge. It was dark, squire, and I 'aven't
the heye-sight I used to 'ave, and so I couldn't make un out who 'e was.
This marning I looked around and found poor Borlase a-lying there and
brought you word. That's all I knaws, only I 'opes the villain will be
caught and 'anged."
"And did you see no person around the grounds late in the afternoon,
George?" asked the parson.
"None, sir, except my nephe Bob, who comes hover to the stables to 'elp
me in my work, now and then, but 'e always leaves afore evening. Now--as
I think of it, Bob was a-telling me 'e 'ad seen Ande Trembath nigh the
Prospidnic road gate, as 'e was going 'ome last night; 'e may 'ave seen
the rogue and could tell you summat."
Blackness as of a thunder-cloud rolled across the old squire's features,
and a purple stream of blood mounted and flushed his temples.
"Spawn of the traitor! He shall smart for it!"
"What a horrible oath! Squire, you are beside yourself," said the
parson, with gentle, chiding reproof.
"Well, damme, parson, what's a man to do? Here's all these outrages, and
it's perfectly clear to my mind, now, that that traitorous son of----"
"Tut, tut, fie, squire!"
"That that traitorous son of a traitor, knowing that I have the
possession of the manor of his ancestors, which the King--God bless
him--took from their family on account of their treason, that boy--don't
interrupt me, Parson Trant--that boy is the culprit, and damme--I'll
have him arrested for malicious mischief and trespass."
"Not so fast, squire. What evidence do you have except your own
suspicions and the fact that the lad was seen nigh the Prospidnic road
gate? If I know aught of law there's not sufficient evidence."
"There, there, you talk of law--as if a magistrate didn't know the law."
"Well, the evidence is lacking," said the parson, gently, though firmly,
for he would not allow the squire to shake his confidence in his best
pupil. "The lad has a good reputation, is a bright scholar in my parish
school, and----"
"Well, well, we'll get more evidence," interrupted the squire, a little
testily. "George, see that the dog is buried, and--here, hitch up the
black mare for Mistress Alice; she's going out this morning."
The hostler paused, fingering his cap.
"I'm feared, squire, Queeny is a little huntrusty; she's been standing
in the stall some time."
"What!----"
The presence of the parson restrained the squire from saying more, but
his flushed countenance spoke volumes. George saw it and, touching his
cap, hastened off to obey.
"Here's a pretty pass things are coming to! Outrages committed daily,
and my own servants in open rebellion, disputing my word."
"Come now," said the parson, gently, "he meant no harm and no
disrespect, I'm sure. Suppose we go down to the lodge and see Pengilly."
Squire and parson wended their way across the gardens to the broad
carriage-way and thence down to the main entrance of the manor estate,
the latter talking and the former keeping down his temper as best he
could in silence, until he became of a more quiescent frame of mind. In
truth, the squire was inwardly regretting his outburst of temper, and
the violent language he had used in the presence of his friend, the
parson.
"Such a thing is possible but not probable. Ande has been the best
scholar in the parish school and a model boy, so the master assures me.
We must not condemn him too hastily and without being heard. His mother
is a noble woman and has inculcated high principles in her training of
the lad."
There was silence for a moment unbroken save by the crunch, crunch of
the gravel underfoot and the twitter of bird overhead. Then the squire,
sufficiently calmed, spoke.
"All very true, but envy and malice crop out even in the very best of
characters; especially is it true in those who, having been deprived of
high position, see others occupying that which was formerly theirs. They
are apt to allow their feelings to bias their judgment."
"And are you sure that you, my old friend, are not doing the same
thing?" said the parson, with a winning smile, referring to the last
remark of the squire.
Squire Vivian flushed at this rejoinder.
"Well, we'll give the lad a fair chance; perhaps I was a trifle too
hasty, but you well know, parson, that next to my Alice and you, I was
extremely fond of Borlase, and naturally feel angry at his loss. I
secured him when a puppy from an old friend, one of the Borlases of
Borlase at St. Just. You know, to be sure, Dr. William Borlase, the
scholar and antiquarian?"
"Aye, I have studied his works with interest."
"Well, I named the mastiff after him; the intelligence of that dog,
parson, was phenomenal. Ah, here we are at the lodge."
The drive-way terminated at the entrance gate, a large affair of massive
iron bars, fancifully and artistically wrought at the top into intricate
curves and flourishes. Huge square pillars of Cornish moor-stone
surmounted at the top with the Trembath arms--a Lyonnesse warrior
galloping amidst ocean waves--flanked the gate on either side and gave
it desired support. Why the squire, or his father, had not removed the
arms of his predecessor, replacing them with his own, is hard to tell.
The whole gateway stood out like fret-work upon the background of the
squire's woods beyond the highway, woods and trees of ancient standing,
as scrupulously cared for as the members of the squire's own household.
Within the gate and close on one side, lovingly environed by beds of
blooming gilli-flowers and marigolds, and almost concealed by enveloping
masses of English ivy that affectionately embraced its walls, was a
small, neat, stone cottage that bore the dignified name of "the Lodge."
A man, still in the prime of life, was labouring assiduously over some
strawberry beds in the rear.
"Ned, this way, please," shouted the squire, and Ned Pengilly, who acted
in the double capacity of gardener and porter, dropping his hoe,
hastened to comply. There was independence and respect for his master
admirably blended in the demeanour of the gardener, as he stood before
parson and squire.
"Ned, did you see Ande Trembath nigh the place of late? We want you to
freshen up your memory and tell us when and how often you have seen him
about the place of late."
"Well, I seed him going through the Manor woods--yesterday; 'e was
whistling a tune, bright and cheery-like, and bid me the time of day as
'e passed the gate. We all likes young Squire Ande, as we calls 'im--no
offence, squire, I 'opes;--we all calls 'im 'young squire' 'cause 'is
grandfather was squire 'ere years ago, afore 'e turned for the
French--which the lad can't 'elp."
"Which the lad can't help!" fairly thundered the squire, his wrath
getting the better of him once more, no doubt fired at the term of young
squire. "I suppose he couldn't help draining the fish pond? I suppose he
couldn't help trampling the shrubbery? I suppose he couldn't help
killing Borlase last night? Couldn't help----"
The latter part of this ebullition of passion died away in a hoarse
growl of something like "blood will tell."
The effect upon the porter of this news of the killing of Borlase was
most striking.
"Bless m' well, squire! What! Borlase dead--killed! Good hold Borlase!
'ow fond we were of 'im! Dead!"
There was a curious working of the gardener's features and he hastily
rubbed the sleeve of his rough shirt across his eyes.
"You must excuse me, squire--to blubber 'ere like a babby--but then you
knaw 'ow I brought un, nigh ten year ago, from St. Just--a puppy 'e was
then, and I loved un--ay--like--like--like a father. 'Ow 'e used to
bark--just like the roar of a lion--ah was--and 'ow sensible 'e was too
when 'e would come nigh me at work on the flower beds; 'e'd wag 'is tail
and look on like a gentleman, as if saying, 'thas all right, my man,'
and yet 'e'd ne'er put foot on a posy or stamp on my work. Dead! But
bless'ee, squire, you can't suspect Ande. Why, I knawed Ande when 'e was
only a hinfant, and I knawed him from then up, and a brighter, better,
honester lad ne'er breathed. Soul of 'onour, 'e ez, sir! Ande! Why 'e
wouldn't 'urt nothing, sir."
"I agree with you, Ned," said the parson. "Ande has too kind a heart to
hurt any of God's creatures. His character is above suspicion in the
matter."
"'Zactly so, so 'e ez," affirmed Ned.
"The principles and character of his father and grandfather were not
above reproach. He's a chip of the old block," growled the squire.
"But, I am afraid the commonwealth is against you in your judgment of
the lad. You know the old adage, 'a man's innocent until proved guilty,'
squire," rejoined the parson.
"Aye, but in this case it's the Irish verdict, 'guilty, but not proven.'
Ned, fix up the berry bushes and trim the shrubbery to-day. In the
meantime keep an ear open, and report to me any news you may hear of
last night's outrage."
The gardener touched his cap and returned to his labour, and squire and
parson, still conversing, sauntered away through the grounds.
"A man shouldn't allow his feelings to run away with his judgment," said
the latter, warmly championing the cause of his favourite.
"The days of the Stoics are past. You have a marvellous predilection for
that lad, Parson Trant. Now, I shall just send the steward down to the
village, this evening, and have him up here, not for a trial, but just
for a private examination, and he shall have fair play. But going to
other subjects, old friend,--what think you of young Master Lanyan?"
"Master Lanyan--um--a bright young man--bright beyond his years, I
think. He will certainly make his mark in life if he keeps to right
principles."
"Ah, exactly so," said the squire, rubbing his hands in the first
satisfaction he had had for the whole morning. "I wanted to get your
opinion and am glad you think so highly of him."
His companion shook his head.
"As to thinking highly of him--I don't know. He has a strong, subtile
mind,--culture,--and a determined will, but he plays cards and----"
"Pooh! Pooh! Pish! Physician, heal thyself; you know that you and I
engage in a social game at times."
"But we don't gamble."
"Only a few wild oats. That is natural to a high-spirited lad. He has
culture, a strong head--a genuine gentleman," stoutly maintained the
squire.
"Ah, but those things in my estimation are not the true requisites of a
gentleman. I consider the foundation principles of a man's life."
"Yes, but the English gentry are supposed to be dominated by the highest
principles," said the squire, earnestly.
"As a class, yes, but in reference to the individual, it is a
supposition without the fact, frequently; and, if your statement holds
good, how about my young friend, Ande Trembath?"
The squire flushed with angry impatience.
"Back again to that young villain! Well, parson, that family no longer
belongs to the English gentry class, as you can readily see. Attainder
of property and corruption of blood!"
It was the parson's time to "Pish! Pish! Pooh! Pooh!"
"Pshaw! Nothing of the kind. Does a plant cease to be the same when it
is transplanted to another soil, or the king of the jungle cease to be a
lion when surrounded by the bars of a cage?"
"Yes, to an extent. Environment has a large influence on life; at least
so our parson said in last Sabbath's discourse." The squire laughed
heartily, and thwacked the discomfited parson on the back with his
large, broad hand.
The parson smiled and resumed.
"I am beaten with my own stick, yet, notwithstanding that you quoted me
correctly, you are wrong. Environment is not a paramount influence. Man
can conquer. Tertullian and Origen----"
Afraid of starting his friend on some long-winded discourse on ancient
church worthies, the squire interrupted him.
"Your idea of a gentleman is----"
"My idea is that wealth, culture, position, etc., are the emoluments or
adjuncts, and that high, sound, moral principles, a righteous heart and
a noble soul, whether under the blouse of the peasant or under the silk
vest of the prince, are the only badges of gentility."
"Well, well,--little did I think that my old, conservative friend would
turn out such a radical."
"Not at all. My firm belief, that these, by training, education, blood,
descent, are embodied more fully in the gentry class of England than in
any other, has made me an extreme conservative. But, about young Master
Lanyan?"
"Young Richard? Young Richard in a year or so will attain his majority.
What think you of a match between the young Richard and my Alice? You
see," added the squire, as he linked his arm in that of the parson, "I
am getting old and I would like to see my only child well settled in
life before I leave the earth. The Lanyan estates are nigh to ours and
they will fall to Richard after his father's death. What better match
than Richard? My Alice is worthy of being called 'My Lady' and Richard
will be Baronet in time. Now, what think you, old friend?"
"You asked me two questions; let us consider one at a time. In reference
to young Richard. It is not the playing of cards that I object to; it is
the trait that his gambling reveals. You know of the schemes of his
grandfather, and of his great-grandfather; the rage for speculation, the
South Sea Bubble, and the hundred and one schemes that that family has
engaged in. Blood will tell. Richard's gambling reveals that. He will
either make or break his family. This mad rage for speculation is an
evil thing. Some day either Sir James or Richard will overreach himself
and should--but of that anon. He is determined and has a strong will,
but should his will be thwarted might not the young Richard be like his
grandfather, a man of no principle. I do not wish to misjudge the young
man, but I fear me that he is one who will allow nothing to come between
himself and his ends, and even to stoop to questionable and evil things
to accomplish those ends. God forgive me if I have judged wrongly. Then
he is proud and even supercilious at times, a disdainer of the commons.
Should he be brought to poverty, the lack of principle which I fear is
in him would hasten the degradation of his character. He may be
different than I have said, but whenever I see him I have an undefinable
suspicion of incipient evil within. Now in reference to Alice and this
projected alliance. Alice is a good child and has commendable traits. No
'My Lady' will enhance her worth any more than it is now. Her happiness
is no light consideration. I believe she can be happy with no man except
one of high and noble principles. Then, in event of this alliance being
consummated, there may be danger of Trembath Manor being involved in the
ruin that may come upon Lanyan Hall. Has she been consulted? Would she
offer no objection to this plan of yours?"
"Objection! No," said the squire, a little testily, for he had been
listening impatiently to this advice of his friend. "Alice is a good
child and will do as I say."
The parson had his own opinion, but said nothing.
The great gables and chimney-pots of the "great house," as it was
generally called by the peasantry around about, loomed up in the
distance and suggested to the parson that the hour was getting late.
Taking out his watch----
"I declare! I had no thought that the hour was so late, and Harriet
will be waiting for me, too. I must go and we'll talk about the matter
later on."
The squire tried to prevail upon his friend to stay for lunch, but,
finding that it was unavailing, cordially shook hands and they
separated, the former going on toward the Manor house, the latter
hastening down to the entrance gates.