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THE BIRTHRIGHT
BY
JOSEPH HOCKING
AUTHOR OF "ALL MEN ARE LIARS"
NEW YORK
DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY
1897
COPYRIGHT, 1896, BY JOSEPH HOCKING
BURR PRINTING HOUSE, NEW YORK.
[Illustration: "I MADE A LEAP AT SAM LIDDICOAT."]
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I
PAGE
TELLS HOW THE PENNINGTONS LOST PENNINGTON 1
CHAPTER II
TELLS HOW I, JASPER PENNINGTON, TRIED TO GET MY OWN 15
CHAPTER III
HOW I WAS ROBBED OF ELMWATER BARTON; HOW I FLOGGED
THE TRESIDDERS, AND WAS PILLORIED BECAUSE OF IT 28
CHAPTER IV
I ESCAPE FROM THE WHIPPING-POST, AND FIND MY WAY
TO GRANFER FRADDAM'S CAVE 44
CHAPTER V
I SEE NAOMI PENRYN ON ROCK CALLED THE SPANISH
CAVALIER, AND RESCUE HER--WE ESCAPE FROM THE
TRESIDDERS 59
CHAPTER VI
I DISCOVER ANOTHER CAVE, AND HEAR A CONVERSATION
BETWEEN RICHARD TRESIDDER AND HIS SON 74
CHAPTER VII
I HEAR RICHARD TRESIDDER TELL NAOMI PENRYN'S
HISTORY, AND AM IN DANGER OF BEING KILLED BY
SMUGGLERS 87
CHAPTER VIII
I GO TO KYNANCE COVE WITH CAP'N JACK TRUSCOTT'S
GANG, AND MEET HIS DAUGHTER TAMSIN 100
CHAPTER IX
WHAT HAPPENED AT CAP'N JACK'S HOUSE--TAMSIN'S
CONFESSION, AND THE SMUGGLERS' PLANS 114
CHAPTER X
WHAT BECAME OF THE WRECKERS' LIGHT--HOW I ESCAPED
AND ENTERED PENNINGTON 127
CHAPTER XI
I SEE NAOMI PENRYN, AND AM GREATLY ENCOURAGED,
BUT SOON AFTER AM TAKEN PRISONER 141
CHAPTER XII
HOW MY LOVE SAVED ME--WHEN FREE I GO TO SEA, AND
MONTHS LATER COME BACK TO BETSEY'S COTTAGE AND
HEAR BAD NEWS 155
CHAPTER XIII
BETSEY FRADDAM AND CAP'N JACK MEET--I GO TO
FALMOUTH AND MEET NAOMI--AFTERWARD I SEE MR.
JOHN WESLEY 170
CHAPTER XIV
I AM TAKEN PRISONER, AND AFTERWARD EXPERIENCE
MANY STRANGE THINGS--I AT LENGTH FIND MYSELF IN
A DUNGEON 185
CHAPTER XV
MY EXPERIENCE IN MY PRISON--I AM TOLD TERRIBLE
NEWS ABOUT NAOMI 200
CHAPTER XVI
I HEAR A STRANGE NOISE IN MY PRISON--THE SECRET
PASSAGE WHICH I FOUND--A WILD STRUGGLE, AND A
HAIRBREADTH ESCAPE 214
CHAPTER XVII
TELLS OF THE MANNER OF MY ESCAPE, OF THE STRANGE
MAN I MET, AND OF ELI'S STORY OF A BURIED TREASURE 228
CHAPTER XVIII
HOW I LEFT BEDRUTHEN STEPS AND, AFTER MEETING
TAMSIN TRUSCOTT, SOUGHT FOR NAOMI 241
CHAPTER XIX
TELLS HOW I CLIMBED THE WALL OF THE MANOR HOUSE
GARDEN, AND WHAT I SAW 254
CHAPTER XX
HOW I FELLED A HORSE WITH MY FIST, AND CARRIED
NAOMI SOUTHWARD 269
CHAPTER XXI
HOW I TOOK NAOMI TO MULLION PORTH AND THEN STARTED
WITH ELI TO FIND THE TREASURE 282
CHAPTER XXII
HOW I FOUND THE SECRET OF THE TREASURE, AND WENT
TO THE SCILLY ISLES 295
CHAPTER XXIII
HOW WE FOUND THE IRON BOX ON ANNETTE ISLAND, AND
THE TERRIBLE ENDING TO OUR ADVENTURE 309
CHAPTER XXIV
TELLS OF THE STRANGE REVELATION MADE BY THE MADMAN
OF BEDRUTHEN STEPS, AND OF TAMSIN TRUSCOTT'S
TREACHERY 323
CHAPTER XXV
HOW WE WENT TO PENNINGTON, AND HOW THE TRESIDDERS
WON THE VICTORY 337
CHAPTER XXVI
TELLS OF MY FORTUNES IN WINNING BACK MY
BIRTHRIGHT, AND FINISHES THE TALE 351
THE BIRTHRIGHT
CHAPTER I
TELLS HOW THE PENNINGTONS LOST PENNINGTON
I am writing this story at the wish of many friends, who tell me it is
my duty so to do. Certain stories have been afloat, which are anything
but true, and it has been urged upon me again and again to set down in
plain terms the true history of events which have set people's tongues
wagging. I must confess that, in spite of the pleasure I have in
recalling the memories of past years, it is with great diffidence that I
at last commence my work. Not because I have any difficulty in
remembering what took place. My memory, thank God, is as good as ever,
and the principal scenes in my history are as clear to me as if they
happened yesterday. It is not that. The truth is I was never clever at
putting things on paper, and somehow, while the facts are clear enough
in my mind, I feel a great difficulty in relating those facts in a way
that is clear and understandable. You see I have lived an open-air life,
and have spent more hours with the bridle-reins in my hands than the
pen, and although I had a fair amount of schooling I was never
considered a quick learner.
Still, as John Major said to me only yesterday, it seems a duty to
clear up certain matters which are altogether misunderstood, and what is
more, to clear my name from scandal. Moreover, as he truly insisted,
there are others besides myself upon whom clouds rest, and one
especially about whom the truth ought to be told.
"People are saying," asserted John Major, "that the land you call yours
is not yours by right, and that in order to get your will you were in
league with the devil. It is also said that you broke the laws of God
and man in your dealings with your relations, and that Parson Inch
refuses to give you the right hand of fellowship until you can prove in
a fair and straightforward way that you are not the man some take you to
be."
Now I am quite aware that many things have happened to me which happen
to but few men. I know, too, that I have had experiences which, to say
the least of them, are strange, neither am I sure that I can explain
certain matters to Parson Inch's satisfaction. At the same time I am not
afraid of the light, and so I am determined to set down truthfully, to
the best of my ability, the true account of those events in my life
which are misunderstood, so that no stigma shall rest upon those who are
as dear to me as my own heart's blood.
Let it be understood, however, that I make no pretence at fine writing,
neither must it be expected that I, who never boasted great learning,
can explain that which has puzzled Parson Grigg, who was in the parish
before Mr. Inch came--aye, even puzzled the Bishop himself who came to
visit the rectory some years since. All I undertake to do is to put down
in plain, homely words the story of my life, in so far as it affects my
good name and the good name of those who are associated with me. It may
be that I shall have to touch upon matters peculiar to the part of the
country in which I was born and reared, and to which I am proud to
belong. As far as I can I will make them clear; but even concerning
these I will make no great promises.
To begin at the beginning then, for I must do this to make everything
clear, and I desire above everything to make matters plain. My father,
Jasper Pennington, died when I was nineteen, leaving me as I thought
Elmwater Barton, a farm of about three hundred acres. I am called Jasper
too; indeed, for generations back there has always been a Jasper
Pennington. Elmwater Barton is by no means a bad farm. Nearly all the
land is under cultivation, and the house is roomy and substantial. You
must not imagine, however, that the Barton is the principal place in the
parish of St. Eve. Far from it. The parish contains twelve thousand
acres, and is, on the whole, the richest parish in Cornwall, and so
three hundred acres do not count much. Up to the time of my father
living at Elmwater Barton the place had always been held by a family of
yeomen by the name of Quethiock, respectable people, of course, but not
regarded as gentry. No, the principal house in St. Eve is Pennington,
which, when my father died, was owned by Richard Tresidder. My father
was born at Pennington, and my grandfather and great-grandfather were
born there; indeed, the estate, which is a very valuable one, has been
owned by the Penningtons for many generations.
The question, therefore, naturally arises, How did a Tresidder get into
the possession of the estate which has always belonged to the
Penningtons? It is well to explain this because evil tongues have told
lies concerning it.
My father's mother died soon after his birth, when my grandfather was a
comparatively young man; and when my father was about five years old,
his father called him into the library one day, and told him that it was
his intention to give him a mother.
"A mother?" said my father, "you told me my mother was dead."
"Yes, she is," said my grandfather, "and is in heaven if ever it is
possible for a woman to get there; that is why I want to give you
another, Jasper, one who will take care of you better than I can."
"Will she be kind to me?" asked my father.
"That she will," was the reply; "but more than that, she will bring you
a brother, who is about your own age, and he will be a playfellow for
you."
My father was greatly pleased at this, and so he welcomed his new mother
very eagerly, thinking all the time, of course, of his new playfellow.
The lady my grandfather married was a widow. Her husband, Richard
Tresidder, had been a lawyer in Falmouth, but he had died of cholera
about four years after my grandmother died. Her little boy, too, was
called Richard, or Dick, as they named him for short, and in a little
while the two boys became friends.
Now the widow of lawyer Tresidder brought my grandfather no property at
all, not a pennypiece, but she brought a great deal of discord instead.
She was always jealous for her son, and she hated my father. The very
sight of him used to vex her, especially as after several years she did
not bear my grandfather a son. There were three daughters born, but no
son, which greatly disappointed my grandfather, and made his wife
exceedingly bitter toward my father.
As years went by it seemed to be the great purpose of her life to cause
quarrels between the father and son, and at the same time to show up the
excellencies of her own son, Richard Tresidder. I suppose the wisest and
best men are clay in the hands of women; at any rate, such has been my
experience in life, especially if that woman is clever, and has a will
of her own, which latter quality few women are short of. Anyhow, after
many years, she succeeded in setting my grandfather against his only son
Jasper. How she managed it I don't know, for my grandfather always had
the name for being a just man, but then, as I said, what can a man do
when a woman gets hold of him? Just before my father was twenty-one this
widow of Tresidder got her husband to make a new will. She persuaded him
to let her husband's brother be present when Mr. Trefry, the old family
lawyer, was writing the document, and a good many hard words passed even
then.
You see, Mr. Trefry couldn't bear to see my father defrauded, and yet he
had no right to interfere. The upshot was that the will gave my father
the sum of L500, while all the Pennington estates were to be held in
trust for Richard Tresidder. This of course seems very strange, but it
goes to show how a woman can twist a man around her finger when she sets
out to do it. There was a clause in the will, however, which my
grandfather, in spite of James Tresidder, who was also a lawyer, would
have inserted. I think the old man's love for justice, and perhaps his
love for his son, caused him to have a mind of his own in this case, for
in the face of lawyer Tresidder's objections and his wife's entreaties
he stood firm. The clause was to this effect--that if Jasper Pennington
or his heirs were ever in a position so to do, they could demand to buy
the Pennington estates, as they existed at the date of the will, at half
the value of the said estates. And that in the case of such an
emergency, five representatives of five county families be asked to make
the valuation. My grandfather further stipulated that none of the
Pennington lands should be sold at any time for any purpose whatever.
Now, the widow of Tresidder greatly objected to this, and even after it
was duly signed did her utmost to get my grandfather to have this clause
expunged. But the Pennington blood asserted itself, and although he had
given way to his wife in such a degree that he had almost disinherited
his son, he still held to this clause.
Not that it could be worth anything to my father. How could he, with
only L500, expect to gain many thousands?
As I said, the will was made some few months before my father was
twenty-one, and it was stipulated that he was to receive the L500 on his
twenty-first birthday.
And now comes a stranger part of the business. About a week before my
father came of age, my grandfather grew angry at what he had done. The
thought of his only son being disinherited in favour of a stranger just
because a woman had twisted him around her finger made him nearly mad.
He saw now what his wife had been aiming at for years; he saw, too, that
the quarrels he had had with my father were of his wife's making; and
anxious to do justly, he wrote a letter to Mr. Trefry telling him that
he desired his presence at Pennington, as he wanted to make a new will,
which should be duly signed and sealed before his son Jasper's
twenty-first birthday. This letter was given to a servant to take to
Truro. Now this servant, like almost every one else she had in the
house, had become a tool of the solicitor's widow, and there is every
reason to believe she saw the letter. Be that as it may, before Lawyer
Trefry reached Pennington, my grandfather, who the day previous had been
a hale, strong man, was dead, and the doctor who was called said that he
died of heart disease.
My father, however, believed that his father had been poisoned, or in
some other way killed, because the woman he had married feared that he
would make a new will in favour of his son Jasper.
And now I have told why Pennington, which had been in the possession of
the Penningtons for many generations, passed out of our hands, and
became the property of the Tresidders.
After my grandfather's funeral L500 were paid to my father, and he was
ordered with many bitter words to leave the home of his fathers. The
clause in the will to which I have referred, however, comforted him
greatly. He was young and strong, and he determined to save up enough
money to get back the Pennington estates according to the provisions
laid down. At that time Elmwater Barton was to let. Old Mr. Quethiock,
who had just died, had left one son who had a shop in Falmouth. This son
did not like farming, and he willingly agreed to let the Barton to my
father, who spent nearly the whole of his capital in stocking it.
Meanwhile, Richard Tresidder lived in state at Pennington, and sneered
at my father, who toiled hard at the Barton, and thus, if my father
hated Richard Tresidder, was it to be wondered?
Now, joining the Pennington lands are those belonging to the Lantallick
estates, which belong to the Archer family, a family as old as the
Penningtons and as greatly respected. Squire Archer had five sons and
one daughter, and my father, who was always friendly with the people at
Lantallick, visited the house often, and all the more because he loved
Mary Archer. Concerning Mary Archer I will pass no opinion. I will only
state facts. I have been told that she was a beautiful young woman, and
that my father loved her dearly. Indeed, it was generally understood
that he should marry Mary when he came of age. It has been said, too,
that Mary was simply crazy in her love for my father; but about that I
have my doubts.
Not long after my father settled down at Elmwater Barton, he asked Mary
to be his wife, and it was then that Squire Archer told him to leave the
house, and informed him, moreover, that his daughter would be shortly
married to Richard Tresidder.
"But," said my father, "Mary has promised to be my wife, promised again
and again."
"And do you think," asked the Squire, "that I would allow my only
daughter to marry a tenant farmer, a wild young scamp that his father
disinherited? Leave the house, I tell you!"
I have heard that Mary pleaded with her father, but I will not vouch for
the truth of that. Certain it is that some time after she became married
to Richard Tresidder.
Thus it was that Richard Tresidder robbed Jasper Pennington not only of
his home and lands, but his love.
Now, my father prospered at Elmwater Barton. He was a clever man, and
fortune favoured him. He began to lay by money, and he farmed the land
so well that folks said he would in a few years, by the blessing of
God, have enough to buy back the Pennington estates, according to the
terms of his father's will. This was told Richard Tresidder and his
mother one day, and they both laughed. About this time my father's
cattle began to die. No one could explain why, but die they did, until
many rumours were afloat, and people whispered that the cattle were
bewitched. Anyhow, it was asserted that Richard Tresidder had been seen
talking with Betsey Fraddam, the witch, while many delicacies had been
taken to Betsey's cottage from Pennington.
Now, as I said, there will be many things in this narrative which I, an
unlearned man, cannot explain. Still, I must tell of matters as they
occurred, this, among others, especially as my relations with Eli
Fraddam, Betsey's son, have been condemned by Parson Inch. It is said
that the Fraddam family has witchcraft in its veins. Anyhow, it is well
known that Betsey was regarded as a witch, while Eli, her son--but of
the poor gnome I will tell later on.
My father tried everything to cure his cattle, but could not, and what
was more perplexing was the fact that other people's cattle in fields
adjoining suffered not at all. In a few months he was driven to
extremities; he saw his chances of buying back his old home slipping
through his fingers, and what maddened him most was that whenever he
passed Richard Tresidder, the man who lived on his estates, laughed him
in the face.
One day my father was in a field adjoining the Pennington lands when he
saw Richard Tresidder.
"Well, farmer," said Tresidder, with a sneer, "and how are you getting
on?"
Whereupon my father accused him of having dealings with Betsey Fraddam,
and told him he was a black-hearted knave, and other things concerning
himself, which maddened Richard Tresidder so that he jumped over the
hedge that divided them and struck my father with his heavy riding-whip.
Now the Penningtons have always been a large-limbed, powerful race, and,
while they have been slow to anger, they have--thank God--always had a
strong sense of what is just, and have always been regarded as brave
men. Richard Tresidder was a slim, wiry man, and, while strong and
agile, was no match for a man who, when he hadn't an ounce too much
flesh, weighed over eleven score pounds. What my father would have done
by him I know not, but while he was in the act of thrashing him two of
Tresidder's men came up, and thus the business ended, at least for the
time. A little while later my father was summoned for attempted murder.
The affair was the talk of Cornwall for some time--at least, that part
of Cornwall--and most people thought my father would be hanged. The
magistrates, who knew the Penningtons and liked them, however, did not
allow this; but he had to pay Tresidder a sum of money which, unless he
were helped, meant his utter ruin.
Again had Richard Tresidder and his mother, who, I believe, was behind
all this, got the upper hand of my father, and again by unfair means.
Was it a wonder, then, that Jasper Pennington should regard them as
enemies? Was it any wonder that I, when I came to know about these
things, should feel bitterly?
After the sentence was passed my father, wondering what to do, went to
see Betsey Fraddam, the witch.
"Betsey," said my father, "tell the truth about my cattle. You can't
harm me, because I'm the oldest son, indeed the only son, but I can
harm you. Did Tresidder hire you to ill-wish the cattle?"
"Jasper," said Betsey, "ded 'ee bait un--ded 'ee bait un, now, right
bad? Zay you ded, now."
"Yes, I did," said my father. "I'm glad the two men came up, or I should
have murder on my conscience, and that's not right, even when the man is
your enemy."
"But you ded bait un! Aw! aw! Jasper; ther's they that can kill, an'
ther's they that can cure. Some can do both."
"You can, Betsey."
"P'raps I can, Jasper. Ave 'ee seed my boy Eli, Jasper?"
"No," replied my father.
"Then come in and zee un--come in, Jasper," and she led the way into the
cottage.
My father, who told me this years after, said he should never forget the
curious feeling that came over him as he saw Betsey Fraddam's son. He
looked even as a child like an old man, and he had a wild look in his
eyes that made him shudder.
"He 'ed'n wot you may call a purty cheeld, es a, then?" asked Betsey.
My father did not reply.
"Well, we ca'ant expect for Betsey Fraddam to 'ave purty cheldern, can
us, then?"
My father was still silent, for Betsey had a strange way with her that
made people afraid. Even I can remember that.
"You may have a son some day, Jasper."
"No," said my father.
"But you may," said Betsey, "you may; I do'ant main nothin' wrong,
Jasper. Margaret Quethiock es well off, and her father do oan the
Barton. Think about it, Jasper. And then ef you do ever have a son,
you'll tell 'im to be kind to Eli, wa'ant 'ee now, Jasper?"
"Yes," said my father, wondering all the time why he should give the
promise. And that was all the conversation they had together at that
time, for my father told me, and he was always a truthful man. But his
cattle got better from that time, and as Mr. Quethiock, of Falmouth,
lent him L300 he was able to tide over his difficulty.
A little while later my father married Margaret Quethiock, and the
fortune that her father gave her was L200, besides the L300 he had
borrowed, and Elmwater Barton rent free during her lifetime. If she died
before my father, the question of rent was to be considered. They had
been married about two years when I was born; but my mother died at my
birth, so I never knew a mother's care and love.
My grandfather Quethiock said nothing about rent after my mother's
death, but my father did not become a rich man. Somehow things were
constantly going wrong with him, and he was in endless trouble about
money matters. It was his stepmother, he told me, who was constantly
persecuting him, because she feared his getting rich, while her son, who
enjoyed my father's wealth, had all sorts of people ready to do his
will. Only for him to hint at a thing, and his satellites would do it.
Thus, one day a herd of cattle would get into a cornfield and destroy
it; and on another, without any apparent reason, a corn-mow would catch
fire. We could never trace it to them, but we always knew by the
jeering laugh on Tresidder's face when he passed us who was the cause of
our trouble.
All this shortened my father's life. When I was nineteen, at the time
when he should have been in his prime, he was a worn-out old man; and
so, when sickness overtook him, he had no strength to fight against it.
It was during this sickness that he told me some of the things I have
written, and also informed me of other matters which will be related
later.
I was with him shortly before he died, and then he said to me very
earnestly, "I leave you Elmwater Barton, Jasper, for I don't think your
grandfather Quethiock will ever charge you rent, and he told me it
should be yours completely at his death; but your real property is
Pennington, my boy. Now I want you to make me a promise."
"I will promise anything in my power, father," I said.
"Then," he replied, quietly, "I want you to promise me that you will
never rest until you get back your own. Never rest until you are back at
Pennington as master and owner. You have been robbed, my son. I have
tried to get your rights and have failed, but you must not fail."
"No, father, I will not fail," I replied. "I will never rest until I
have got back Pennington."
"And never trust a Tresidder, Jasper; they are all as deep as the
bottomless pit, and as cruel as the fiend who rules there."
"I hear, father," was my reply, "and you shall be obeyed."
This was in the month of July, in the year 1737, when I was nineteen
years of age.
What I have to tell is how I tried to get back my home, of the battles
I had to fight, of the love which came into my heart, of many mysteries
which I cannot explain, and of the strange experiences through which I
passed in seeking to obey my father's will.
Whether I shall be believed or no I cannot tell, but I will tell only
the truth, strange as it may all seem. Moreover, let God be the judge
whether my quarrel with the Tresidders was not a just one, and whether I
did not fight fairly, as every honest man should.