AFTER LONG YEARS
"I wish to say a few words to you, captain."
"Say on, Tretheway."
"I have never told you the history of my life, now I wish to do so."
He nodded his head as if ready to listen. Accordingly I began, and
related in some detail the story of my life. He listened attentively;
evidently, he was interested. Step by step he followed my narrative,
until I came to the previous evening. Then as I told him of the dream
and the call I had heard, his face became pale as death, and he
clenched his hand nervously.
"It is the voice of God, or of the mother of God. You must go,
Tretheway," he said.
"Yes, I feel I must, and that soon," I replied. "But how?"
"Last night I told you that I was tired of this life," he said. "This
morning I feel I must leave it. I have been a wild, lawless fellow,
Tretheway; but I have been more sinned against than sinning, and I want
to go home, where, by gifts to the Church, prayers, and penances I
shall surely receive forgiveness."
For an hour we talked together.
It was all settled at length. The vessel should sail under his
direction with all speed to the coast of France, where we were to make
over the whole cargo and ship to the crew, and then leave it for ever.
Accordingly we altered the course of the vessel, and after a few days'
fast sailing reached the desired position. Then the captain called the
crew together and appointed officers to command, ordered a boat and
provisions to be lowered, and told them he meant to leave them for ever.
At first the men demurred, they could never agree under another captain
they declared, but when Salambo (the captain) told them that the vessel
and all its belongings were theirs, and that he should make no claim
upon it, they became pacified.
We were now a few miles from land, at the nearest point between France
and Spain, and we could see the lights of St. Sebastian in the
distance. It wanted but an hour to daybreak, and we wished, if
possible, to land without attracting any attention. To me this seemed
almost impossible; but the captain was confident, so I trusted him.
We left the pirate vessel at length, I feeling a great load lifted off
my mind. All the time I had been with the crew I had seemed to breathe
foul atmosphere, and when I was once rid of them a new life opened
before me. We had drifted, perhaps, a mile from the vessel when
Salambo hoisted a small sail, and the wind being favourable we were
wafted quickly towards land. This being done, he opened a box, which
he had taken care should be lowered into the boat, and took from it two
complete suits of gentlemen's attire.
"I always like to be ready for emergencies," he said, coolly. "If we
go on shore dressed as we are we shall be objects of suspicion
immediately."
He changed his clothes, which completely altered his appearance, after
which he bade me follow his example.
"Now," he said, when I had finished, "you look more like a civilized
man; but there is a pirate's fire in your eye even yet. I don't know
that I should like having you for an enemy, for I think you would still
make short work of the man you disliked."
Involuntarily, I thought of my brother Wilfred, and clenched my hands
nervously. Salambo watched me with a curious look on his face, and
then continued:
"But we must get rid of these things, or they will not fit in with my
story when we land."
"Why, what are you going to say?"
"Say! Why, that I am a Spanish gentleman from Santiago, that you are
an English friend of mine, and that we have for a freak come over here.
I speak the Spanish language perfectly, of course, while you speak it
with an English accent. Leave all to me. I'll manage it."
We landed at St. Sebastian in the early moming without difficulty. The
change in Salambo's clothes had not only altered his appearance, but it
had apparently made a different man of him. He was no longer the wild
sea robber, but a refined, courteous gentleman. Instinctively the
peasantry saluted him with respect, and we were soon installed in the
best place of accommodation in the town.
I was anxious to get away, and feverishly asked him as to my best means
of getting to England.
"I have been thinking whether we shall ever meet again," he said,
without answering my question. "We have been together nearly two
years, and we have come to regard each other as friends. Should we
ever settle down, which I doubt in spite of our desires, I hope we
shall be able to meet--meet in peace as brothers."
"Why not?" I said, boldly and confidently, "nothing would give me more
joy than to welcome you in my old Cornish home."
"Ah, Señor Trewinion," he said, for I had told him my true name, "we
have both been away ten years, and when we get to our respective
birthplaces we shall find things much changed. And--well, my heart is
sad, and I have many doubts."
"I feel that my Ruth is alive," I said, confidently, though my heart
sank within me.
"She may be alive, and yet who knows if she loves you? Ah! Señor, do
not build your hopes too high. A woman is for ever a woman, a puzzle
to themselves, and an unfathomable mystery to men."
"Well, I'm going to see if all is well, anyhow," I said. "What are you
going to do?"
"Trewinion, I feel I have acted wrongly," he said. "I came away
leaving my Inez unprotected. The man who stole her from me is dead;
but what has become of her I know not. Methinks I never loved her
well, or I should not have left her because of fear of pursuit. She
was guilty of nothing, and she loved me, and I have left her all these
long years."
I was silent, for I felt it would be useless to speak.
"But I shall try to find her," he went on, "and--who knows?--it may be
that she will forgive me and we shall be happy. I trust so, I pray it
may be so."
"And if you do, how shall I know?" I said.
"I have been thinking of this ever since we decided to leave," he
replied, "and this is the plan I have marked out. You had better go
first to Bordeaux. From there you will be easily able to get a vessel
for England. I, on the other hand, shall go across The Pyrenees to my
home at Barcelona. If I am alive, this address will find me," and he
put a piece of paper in my hand.
"Will you be safe there?" I asked.
"I think so. You know my people are wild and passionate. They easily
forgive such sins as mine when they remember my provocation. Indeed, I
have known the perpetrators of similar deeds lauded as heroes. My only
thought is, if I shall find Inez--if I do not I shall not care to live;
but if I do, the past will be forgotten, and I shall be happy."
The tears stood in his eyes as he spoke, and then I realised that all
his sinful deeds had not destroyed his heart.
I left that same afternoon for Bordeaux, while Salambo made
preparations to go to Barcelona, where he hoped to find his Inez.
In spite of all my eagerness and anxiety it was one month from the
night on which I received my summons home to the time I landed at
Falmouth. Without waiting an hour I made preparations to hurry on to
Trewinion Manor. I shall never forget my feelings when, after ten
years of absence, I first saw the Cornish cliffs. At one time it
seemed as though the past ten years were only a dream, and that I had
never left Cornwall at all, and again I felt as though my life prior to
my leaving home was an unreality.
I found a coach at Falmouth that would take me within a few miles of my
home, so I quickly took my place, and then fretted and fumed as we
slowly rumbled on. It was towards afternoon when the coach arrived at
the spot where I could be set down, and there with fast beating heart I
watched the retreating conveyance, while I stood not far from my
birthplace.
How quiet it was to be sure! There were no houses near, save one
little wayside cottage and a small farmhouse among the fields. All the
features were as familiar as if I had never left them. Hill and dale
alike were known to me, I had roamed over them all long years since.
All these rich green meadows were mine. I, who had been an alien and a
wanderer on the face of the earth, was the lawful master of all I saw,
and yet nothing was mine, for had I not renounced them long years ago,
renounced them for the sake of the woman I loved?
I set out for the old homestead and walked rapidly. Eagerly I passed
by every landmark which told me I was nearer home, and when at last
only one little hillock stood between me and the sight of the place
that was ever dear to me I almost lost control over my actions.
Up I rushed, heedless of everything, until nothing hid it from my gaze.
I was like the old Israelites who travelled towards Jerusalem, and
anxiously waited for the last hill to be reached in order that they
might see the place they loved best in the world.
And this was the place I loved best. There it stood, grey, rugged and
stern as in the olden days, its sturdy tower still braving the wind and
weather. Long I stood and looked at it. My home! The place where my
father had taught me to love him, the place where he had died, blessing
me! Eagerly I watched for signs of life, but I could seen none; all
was silent and lonely. I looked seaward and saw the smooth, glittering
waters as they played around the base of the "Devil's Tooth;" I watched
the yellow beach, which sloped up towards the witches' cave; I saw the
rugged cliffs and the rocks over which I had helped Ruth years before,
when Wilfred had left her alone. And, as I stood, memory after memory
flashed through my mind, old sayings came back to me, and scenes which
I had not thought about for years excited my mind, until my whole being
was moved to the very centre, and in spite of all my hardships and
buffetings I sobbed like a child.
I was surprised that no signs of life appeared. I looked at the fields
and saw not a single soul. I looked at the little cove. A few boats
were rocking idly on the waters, but no human being was near. Was the
place deserted? Then I began to think. The day of the week was
Monday, and it was the third Monday in September. Yes, that was the
feast day of Trewinion parish. Yesterday the parish church would be
crowded; to-day the parishioners would meet at the Churchtown, where
there would be great festivities. It was a general holiday for the
whole parish, and the people had congregated on the village green over
by the church.
Still, I expected a few servants would be at home, and mother, and,
perchance, Wilfred. He would never mix with the rowdy villagers, as he
called them, and would probably be in the library following some
favourite literary pursuit. What should I do? Go home and proclaim
myself as Roger Trewinion, owner and master of everything? No, I did
not like to do that--yet I must know how things stood. I must know
about everything, where Ruth was, and what position she held!
And still I stood gazing on the old house on the cliff until I saw a
man come out and slowly saunter down the drive.
It was Wilfred.
I started to go forward and speak to him, but stopped immediately
after. Long years of foreign travel and passing through dangerous
scenes had made me careful. I knew not how I should be received, and I
must not give Wilfred the whip hand of me. No, I would find out what
had happened at home during the intervening years. I would go on to
the village green, and there, perchance, I should see those who knew me
in the past, and should give them a chance of recognising me.
Passing near the church, however, I could not resist the temptation to
enter. To an ordinary sightseer, it would doubtless possess small
attraction, but to me who accompanied my father there more than twenty
years before, and where I had received what little religious
instruction I possessed, it was of more than ordinary interest.
Besides, my father was buried beneath the altar steps, and I longed to
see the place again. Accordingly I entered the churchyard, and finding
the church door open, entered the sacred building. Instinctively I
found my way to the eastern end of the church, and there experienced
one of the strangest sensations of my life. On the wall just above my
father's tomb was a tablet erected to the memory of my father, giving
not only the year of his birth, but the manner of his death. But this
was not what affected me. I had expected to see some memorial of my
father, but what startled me was the sight of another tablet
immediately beneath it, on which were written these words:--
SACRED TO THE MEMORY OF
ROGER TREWINION
ELDEST SON OF THE ABOVE
WHO MET HIS DEATH BY DROWNING, AND WHOSE BODY
WAS DISCOVERED ON THE SANDS.
"_Thy brother shall rise again!_"
THIS TABLET WAS ERECTED BY HIS LOVING MOTHER
AND BROTHER.
Whether wonder or anger were strongest within me I know not, but both
strove mightily. For first of all it is a strange experience for any
man to see his own tombstone, and in spite of myself I could not help
shivering. But strong as was this feeling, anger well-nigh overcame
it. It seemed to me that both my mother and brother were so eager for
me to be dead, that they were glad of any excuse for making me appear
so, and I determined that I would understand what it all meant.
Accordingly I walked towards the village and soon found myself in the
midst of about two hundred people, which was regarded as a great crowd
in that neighbourhood. In one corner of the green was a wrestling
ring, and in another was a group of young folk dancing to the music of
two or three instruments, which had evidently been specially obtained
for the occasion. Some very coarse sweetmeats were being sold at the
sweet stalls and a general holiday air pervaded the scene. I saw as I
came up that I was curiously regarded. My dress was of foreign make,
and I was bronzed by years of exposure. My beard, too, was long, and
my whole appearance was different from those whom the people would be
likely to see. Moreover, it was very seldom a stranger visited that
neighbourhood, and thus naturally I was regarded as a sort of curiosity.
I looked from face to face, but could see no one that I knew. During
these years middle-aged men seemed to have grown old, and children to
have sprung into men and women. I made my way towards the wrestling
ring, where two youths struggled with each other, while the people
looked at them with open mouths. Here I saw two or three farmers whom
I knew, but I did not care to enter into conversation.
It was very strange. I was home, and yet no one knew me. The parish
was called by my name, the church was called Trewinion Church, and yet
I, Roger, the oldest male member of the house, was a stranger, and
looked at curiously by the people. Eleven years before I had been at
the feast, and then everyone had paid respect to "Maaster Roger"; but
now, the bronzed, bearded, foreign-looking man, was an alien.
At length one of the two men who had been wrestling was thrown, and
then I heard a voice which I thought I knew, saying, "That's a feir
vall." It was spoken by the man who had been selected as umpire, and
when I caught sight of his face I recognised Bill Tregargus, the man
who climbed the "Devil's Tooth" on the stormy night when Ruth was
rescued. I had always remained friendly with Bill up to the time I
left. I determined I would speak to him.
As this was the last "hitch" of the day, the ring was broken up, and I
saw Bill going with the rest towards the village alehouse.
I went up to him and touched him upon the arm.
"You seem to be a man of some importance here," I said.
Bill looked very modest, but nodded.
"I want to have a little talk with some respectable man in the parish,"
I said: "one who knows the worth of land and one who knows the people."
"Wal, I think as 'ow I knaws everybody," said Bill; "I've bin ere oal
my life, and don't owe nobody nothin'. I've got three booats, and a
daicent little farm."
"I can quite fancy that," I said, "by the way people regard you. Is
your farm your own land now, or do you rent it?"
"Nobody farms their own land in this ere parish," replied Bill, "it do
oal belong to Squire Trewinion, but who be you and what do you want to
knaw about the parish for?"
"I'm a stranger," I said, "and I used to know young Roger Trewinion;
can you tell me anything about him?"
"Knaw young Maaster Roger, did 'ee?" cried Bill, "why he was a friend
to me; ain't 'ee 'eard un spaik of Bill Tregargus?"
"Bill Tregargus?" I said; "many a time! why, did you not go out with
him one night and rescue a young lady whose ship was wrecked upon a
great rock?"
"Why, iss," said Bill excitedly, "ded a ever tell 'ee 'bout that?"
"How should I know it else?" I said; "but now I want to know about him
and the family."
He took me away from the people by a pathway that led through a meadow.
"You was a friend of Maaster Roger's," said Bill, "zo I can tell 'ee.
He's dead, and there's been foul play."
"Foul play? How?"
"It's my belief 'ow 'e've bin murdered, zur."
"Murdered! Why should you think that?"
"When did you knaw Maaster Roger, sur?"
"Oh, twelve years ago, just before he came of age, I think."
"Well, sur, ther've bin awful doin's up at th' House since then,
things, sur, as I'm amooast 'fraid to tell 'ee, 'cause----"
Then a frightened look came into Bill's eyes, and he looked round
nervously.