TELLS HOW I, JASPER PENNINGTON, TRIED TO GET MY OWN
I do not think I have as yet mentioned it, but Richard Tresidder--I mean
the man who entered into my father's possessions--had three sons and one
daughter, and each of these was brought up with the thought that I was
their natural enemy. Of course, they were informed that my grandfather's
will provided the means whereby I, if I were sufficiently fortunate,
could buy back the estate at half its valued worth. And they were in
constant suspense about it. If I were to marry a rich wife it could be
done; if I were to have some stroke of fortune their home might be taken
from them, they having only a given sum of money. And thus it was to
their interest to keep me poor, as well as to damage my reputation in
the neighbourhood.
The eldest son was a year or more older than I, and was, of course,
respected as the heir to the Pennington lands, for it is strange how
people's sympathies veer around on the side of the people who are in
power. My father has told me many times how, when he was thought to be
the prospective heir of Pennington, people could not make enough of him,
while Richard Tresidder had but scant courtesy paid him. When it became
known that my father was disinherited, no matter how unjustly, these
same folks discovered that Richard Tresidder was a very mine of wit and
goodness, while my father was made a butt for fools' jokes.
And so I discovered that my being a Pennington counted but for little,
while it seemed to be forgotten that but for the wiles of a clever,
selfish woman, I should be the Squire of the parish.
When I was old enough I was sent to Tregony grammar school, my father
being determined to give me a schooling befitting the position he hoped,
in spite of his misfortunes, I should some day occupy. Now Nick
Tresidder had been attending this same school for some months when I
went. For this I was very glad, because I thought it would give me an
opportunity for testing him. I had not been in the school a week,
however, when my father came to fetch me away. The reason was that
Richard Tresidder had demanded it, as he would not allow his son to be
educated at the school where the son of a tenant-farmer was admitted. He
told the schoolmaster that he had two other sons whom he intended to
send, but that he should immediately withdraw his patronage if I were
not sent away.
All this angered me as well as my father, but there was no help for it,
and I was sent to Probus instead, where the education was as good, but
where I had no chance of meeting the Tresidders.
I have said that Elmwater Barton was a good farm, but I must confess to
looking longingly at Pennington. This was in the nature of things very
reasonable on my part, for I always looked upon it as my home. But
besides this, I doubt if the whole country can present a stretch of land
so fair, or a house so pleasantly situated. There may be bigger and more
imposing houses, but there are none more comfortable. Besides,
Pennington faces a beautiful glen that is about half a mile wide. I know
of no grass as green as that which grows there, or of trees so fine and
stately. Besides, the river which winds its way downward, and which
sometimes runs side by side with the drive leading from the house to the
main road, is the most beauteous stream of water I ever saw. Then
sloping away from this glen are wooded hills, the sight of which in the
early summer time is enough to make a man sing for joy; and in addition
to all this, while standing at the main entrance of the house you can
see the blue sea, say a mile and a half away. I, who have seen something
of the world, say there is nothing finer in the way of green and
pleasant land, while all the world knows that nowhere are cliffs so fine
and the sea so blue as that which is to be seen in this part of my
native county. Besides, all that land from the house where my father was
born right to the sea belongs to the Pennington estates, while at the
back of the house it stretches just as far, and just as fair.
One day--it was before my father died--I had climbed Trescowal Tor, just
to feast my eyes upon so much loveliness, when I saw Richard Tresidder
walking with his mother toward the Pennington woods. Now a great desire
came into my heart, not to see Tresidder, but to speak to his mother,
whom I knew to be the evil genius of my family. And so I made my way to
the woods, and stood in the pathway as they came up.
They both knew me, not only through my likeness to my father, but
because of my size, for it is well known that the Pennington family on
the male side are at least six inches taller than the ordinary run of
men.
"Do you know you are trespassing?" asked Tresidder.
"My name is Jasper Pennington," I said, proudly.
"Then get off my lands at once," he said, sternly, and with a black
look.
"Not until I have had a good look on the man and woman who have robbed
my father and me," I said--and I knew I had aroused the devil in them as
I spoke. For the woman who had robbed us fairly glared at me, while
Tresidder grasped his stick as though he would strike me. The woman was
nearing seventy, but she was strong and hale, and her eyes flashed like
those of a young girl. I saw, too, that she must have been handsome when
she was young. I marked the cruel, resolute expression of her mouth, and
I did not wonder at the difficulty my grandfather had in resisting her.
"I will have you put in the stocks, and then taken to the lockup, if you
are not gone at once," said Tresidder, savagely.
"I will give your three sons the chance of doing this," I said, with a
laugh. "Three Tresidders against one Pennington isn't bad in fair fight.
Of course, where cunning and cheatery comes in I should be nowhere. Or
perhaps," I continued, "you would like to try yourself. I am only
eighteen, and you are in the prime of your life; still, I should be
pleased to give you the chance."
But he laid no hands on me; instead, he put a whistle to his mouth and
blew.
"Yes," I said, "get some one else to do the work you are afraid to try
yourself; that's a Tresidder all over. Well, I'll go now; I've had a
good look at you both, and I shall know you again."
With that I turned and walked away, for, if the truth must be told, I
did not care about fighting with Tresidder's minions, and my father had
told me many times to be careful.
The path was very crooked, and the foliage was very thick, so that I had
not gone more than a few steps before I was out of their sight. Acting
on the impulse of the moment, I stopped and listened.
"A regular Pennington," I heard the old woman say. "You must be careful,
Richard, for he has more brains than his father. He has all the good
looks of the family, too. We must be silent about all our plans, for if
he knows he will spoil them. Remember the will."
"I do remember; that is why I am anxious about our boys. Still, there
can be no fear, and it will not be so very long before we shall get her.
That settled, and Nick will be all right."
I heard no more after that, but I wondered often what he meant. I told
my father, too, but he could give me no hint toward the solution of
Tresidder's words.
After my father's death I ceased to think so much of Pennington; for I
had Elmwater Barton to look after. I was determined to make the farm
pay, and now that all the responsibility rested on me, I made up my mind
that the Tresidders should not play fast and loose with me, as they had
done with my father. In order to do this I looked carefully around me
for a man in whom I could trust; for, be it remembered, this was a very
difficult matter. My father had engaged two hinds, and each of these had
been bribed by the Tresidders to injure his property. You see, his
enemies had almost supreme power in the parish, and they used it to his
injury. Still, I knew that the Tresidders must have enemies as well as
other people, and it was for me to find out who they were. This I had no
great difficulty in doing. A man named William Dawe had farmed a place
named Treviscoe, on the Pennington estate, and the poor fellow had
several seasons of bad luck. One year his turnip crop failed; the next
the foot and mouth disease got hold of his cattle; and the next, during
the lambing season, he lost a great number of sheep. Indeed, so bad was
his luck that he was unable to pay his rent. Perhaps Tresidder would
have been lenient with him but for two things: one was that he had
refused to take sides with him against my father, and another was that
when Nick Tresidder insulted William Dawe's daughter the farmer gave him
a thrashing. The end of all this was that William Dawe was sold up, and
even then he was not free from all his difficulties.
One of the first important things I did after my father's death,
therefore, after a serious conversation with the farmer, was to lure him
to come to Elmwater Barton, with his wife and son and daughter, in order
to manage the farm. I do not think in all my life I have ever seen a man
so grateful.
"Will you come, William?" I asked, when I told him what wages I could
afford to give.
"Come, Maaster Jasper, come! I reck'n I will! Why--" And then he caught
at my hand, and behaved in a way that made me think for the time that I
was serving him only, and not myself at all.
In a few days William was settled down at the Barton, and right well did
he arrange for the harvest, and right hard did both he and his son work
for me. Indeed, both William and his son George seemed ready to work
their arms off for me, and were both anxious to serve me night and day.
George Dawe was a strapping fellow of twenty-five, nearly as tall and
strong as myself, though not quite. This was proved one day when we
wrestled down in the calves' meadow. I had hard work to master him, for
George had taken the wrestling prize at St. Eve's Feast for three years
in succession. I was proud to have thrown him, especially as I had not
yet got my full strength, not being twenty years of age. George had had
a varied experience. He had been to sea in a trading vessel, and, if the
truth must be confessed, had done a fair amount of smuggling. Be that as
it may, George Dawe loved me like a brother, and nothing was too much
for him to do for me. Thus I regarded myself as very fortunate. Eliza
Dawe, too, was a careful, sensible woman, while Selina, her daughter,
was a strapping, healthy wench who could do as much work as two ordinary
women.
Now, I say this was a great help to me, for they all watched my
interests closely.
"Lev any ov the Trezidders try any ov their dirty capers now," said
George to me, "and we'll laive 'em knaw."
Those who know nothing about farming can have no idea what a great
amount of harm a seemingly little mistake can do. Suppose, for instance,
there are two ten-acred fields side by side. Suppose the month is early
July, when the corn has nearly reached its full height, and the heads
have all bursted ready to ripen. Well, suppose, again, that one of these
ten-acred fields has barley, or oats, or wheat, while the other is a
browsing field in which twenty or thirty head of cattle are feeding.
Then let some evil-disposed person open the gate between these two
fields, and the thirty head of cattle get into the cornfield--what
happens? Why, L20 worth of damage can be done in a single night. And
things like this were often happening in my father's days, and thus he
was kept poor.
But things changed after I got George Dawe on the Barton. His eyes
seemed to be everywhere, and always in my interests.
Let me give one example (and then I will soon get on to my story proper)
how George Dawe saved me a large amount of money, and at the same time
helped me to teach the Tresidders a lesson.
It was the June after I had got William Dawe's family to live with me.
We had had several dry weeks, so that the fields had become parched and
bare, and we were anxious lest the sheep should not have enough grass.
One field had been planted with vatches, which, as every farmer knows,
grow quickly and are cut for the horses.
"William," I said to Dawe one day, "I am afraid we shall have to
sacrifice a hay field. The browsing fields are all brown; the sheep
can't get enough to eat. We must be careful not to turn them there when
the dew is on the grass, though, or they'll get vlayed."
"I wudden trouble, Maaster Jasper; ship c'n nibble a lot on a dewy
mornin', and we sh'll git rain zoon, I reck'n."
"Well, as you think best; but I fancy we'd better turn the biggest lot
into the 'Sheeps' Close' to-night." The "Sheeps' Close" was the name of
one of the best meadows, which at this time was very bare owing to the
long spell of dry, hot weather.
Well, I had to ride to Truro that afternoon, so I did not get home till
late at night. I found George Dawe waiting up for me.
"Anything the matter, George?" I asked.
"Iss, ther es, Maaster Jasper."
"What?" I asked.
"The Trezidders be up to the ould gaame. When I wos comin' 'ome from St.
Eve two or dree 'ours agone, I 'eared young Nick plannin' ev it weth
Buddle."
"Explain, George," I said.
George told his story, with the result that we made our way to the
"Sheeps' Close" and hid behind the hedge. Just before dawn--that is,
about three o'clock in the morning--we saw two men coming toward the
gateway. We saw them unfasten the gate and open it wide, then we heard
one say to the other, "Now let's fetch up the sheep, and the fool will
be worth a bit less money in a few hours."
Then they went away, and in a little while we heard them "whishing" up
the sheep. George closed the gate, and we both waited until they came
up. There were a hundred and seventy-five sheep in the flock, and they
brought them up for the purpose of turning them into the vatches. Here
they would be knee-deep in rank vegetation, and the poor things, glad to
get to such juicy meat, would eat ravenously. The result of this would
be that they would get filled with wind and would swell horribly, and if
not immediately relieved would die a painful death. If the design
succeeded in this case I should be hundreds of pounds poorer before the
men would be at their work.
It may be imagined, therefore, that my blood was pretty hot, and that my
feelings toward the Tresidders were not those of a lover, and I will
leave it to any fair-minded man whether my anger was not reasonable.
As I said, George and I waited by the gate until they came up. The sheep
came close to the gate, as if waiting to be let in, and the two men
stood behind, not knowing, evidently, why the poor creatures did not go
to their death.
"What's the matter, Jacob?" asked young Nick Tresidder.
"Dunnaw, aw'm zure," answered Jacob, who was the eldest son of
Tresidder's "head man" and the worst rake in the parish. "Lev us go up
an' zee."
So they came up, as we expected they would.
"Why, the gaate es cloased and apsed!" cried Jacob. "The devil must 'a
'bin 'ere."
"Nonsense," said Nick, "you couldn't have opened it; you must have been
dreaming. There, open it."
"You tackle Nick Tresidder, an' I'll 'ave a go with Buddle," said George
to me, in a whisper; "he's allays a-braggin' as 'ow 'ee c'n bait me. Now
then, jump out!"
At this we both leaped forward. I took Nick Tresidder by the scruff of
the neck, while George gripped Buddle like a blacksmith's vice.
The sheep jumped away frightened, while these two blackguards cried out
as if the judgment day had come.
"Es et the devil?" asked Buddle.
"No," I roared out, "it isn't the devil; we're not related to you in any
way, and your master won't help you."
By this time they found out who we were, and began to wriggle finely.
"Look you, Nick Tresidder," I said; "the law will do nothing for us, so
we are going to take the law in our own hands."
"What do you want?" asked Tresidder.
"Nothing unfair," I said. "We are man to man. You are on my land, and
you were doing a trick worthy only of the devil, your master. We will
wrestle fair, as becomes Cornishmen, and you must show no mercy, for as
God is above me I'll show none."
Now I will do these men justice. They were not afraid of us, and when
they knew that we were people of this world and not ghosts from the
other, they showed no desire to run away. Nick Tresidder was a year
older than I, while Buddle always sneered when folks said that George
Dawe was a better man than he. Besides, they both saw that we did not
mean playing at wrestling.
But Nick Tresidder, Tresidder-like, was not fair; he jumped upon me
before I was ready, a thing always regarded as cowardly at a wrestling
match. I saw in a minute, too, that he knew the tricks of the art, and
were I not a wrestler, too, and a strong man to boot, my arm must have
been broken before I could put forth my strength. This angered me more
than I like to be angered, for now, when we were to meet man to man, I
felt not so bitter about the sheep. So I put forth all my strength and
made him let go his vantage hold, then I put my arm around his chest,
and right glad was I when I found him a strong man; so I played with him
for the pleasure of wrestling, just as any true Cornishman will. But I
was wrong in doing this. My father had told me never to trust a
Tresidder, and I did trust him to wrestle fairly, even although he had
tried to kill my sheep. While I wrestled, merely for the pleasure of
wrestling, I felt a stab at my side, and I knew that a knife had entered
my flesh just under my arm.
"You are a coward, Nick Tresidder," I said, "a coward in every way;"
then, not knowing whether I was dangerously wounded or no, I played with
him no longer, for a man cannot bear everything. I caught him in both my
arms and lifted him from the ground; then I wrestled in earnest. I heard
one of his ribs snap, but he did not cry out, then another, and he
became but a child to me; so I let him go, and he staggered away like a
drunken man.
"Now go home and tell your father what you have done," I said, "and tell
him who you found in Elmwater Barton 'Sheeps' Close.'"
Then I turned to George, who was still struggling with Buddle, and who,
just as I came to him, threw him heavily.
"George," I said, "I have been stabbed. Just tie this cloth tightly
around my chest."
"The coward!" said George, panting; "but where es a, Maaster Jasper?"
"He won't wrestle any more for a month or two," I replied; "but I would
not have hurt him so if he had not stabbed me."
So there, in the early morning light, while the birds began to sing, and
the sheep tried to find food on the dewy ground, George Dawe tied a
cloth tightly across my naked chest, and I could not help wincing at the
pain. Just as he was finishing, Jacob Buddle got slowly up from the
ground. He had been badly stunned, but no bones were broken.
"Look after your master," I said; then I saw the knife with which Nick
had stabbed me lying on the ground. "There," I said, "you know that
knife, I expect; your master used it while we wrestled."
But Buddle was dazed, and did not reply. So when I had put on my coat I
went to Nick Tresidder, who was very faint and unable to walk, so ill
had he become. Then my heart softened, and together we took him up to
Pennington, and Buddle, who was by this time better, said he could
manage him.
The next day I heard that Nick Tresidder had fallen from his horse and
broken his ribs, and Dr. Hawke, who had been called in, said that he
must remain in bed many days. But of this I am sure, although neither
George Dawe nor I said a word, Richard Tresidder knew the truth.
Now I have told this, not because I delight in such things, but because
I want it to be known how I was treated, and what I had to contend with,
for this was but a sample of the many ways in which the Tresidders had
tried to harm me. I have often wondered why they felt so evilly toward
me, seeing that they were rich at my cost, and I have come to the
conclusion that it is a law of human nature for a man to hate those whom
he has treated unjustly. But I am an unlearned man, and the heart of
man--and woman--is past finding out.
And now I must tell how, in spite of myself, I was drawn more and more
into contact with the Tresidders, with other matters which strangely
affected my life later on.