I SEE NAOMI PENRYN ON ROCK CALLED THE SPANISH CAVALIER, AND RESCUE
HER--WE ESCAPE FROM THE TRESIDDERS
When I entered Betsey's cottage, she was sitting with her son beside the
open fireplace, watching a crock which steamed over a wood fire, and
from which came a strange smell.
"'Twas cowld and wet at Granfer's caave, I spoase?" was her first
greeting, after looking at me very carefully.
Now how she knew I had been in the cave I know not, neither will I
pretend to explain; at the same time, I felt rather fearful at the
thought that she should have been aware of the place where I had spent
the day, when no one had told her.
"How do you know where I have been?" I asked.
"How do I knaw?" sneered Betsey; "how do I knaw everything?"
So I said no more, but looked toward a loaf of bread which lay on the
table.
"Iss, you've 'ad nothin' but a swede turmut, and that ed'n rastlin'
mait," said Betsey. "You do look vine and faint, too. 'Ere's summin
that'll do 'ee good, my deear," and going to a cupboard, she took a
two-gallon jar, and poured out a tumbler full of liquor. "There, drink
that," she said, putting it before me.
It was raw spirits, and when I had swallowed one mouthful I could take
no more, it was too strong for me.
"Aw, aw!" laughed Betsey; "'tes nearly as strong as the broth I do make,
ed'n et, then? Here, Eli, put some milk in the pan, and het it for 'un.
He was in the pillory yesterday, and he seed Richard Trezidder and Neck
Trezidder and Emily Trezidder, and another maid, a very purty one. Then
'ee runned away, and after that he got to Granfer Fraddam's Cave. Make a
good quart of eggiot for 'un, Eli. That'll be better'n sperrits. He's
too waik for that."
Then Eli got the milk, and began to beat up eggs in a basin, grunting
strangely, while he watched me with his strange, wild-looking eyes. But
I did not speak, for Betsey made me afraid; besides, I felt cold and
ill.
"I knaw what you be thinking," said Betsey; "you be wonderin' how I got
so much sperrits. Well, p'raps I shall tell 'ee zoon. We sh'll zee,
Jasper, we sh'll zee." And with that the old crone chuckled.
Then Eli came to me, and felt me, and fondled me. He smoothed my wrists
where they had been bruised the day before, and got some ointment which
he rubbed around my neck. Then, when the milk and egg was ready, he
poured it in a huge basin, and put it before me.
"I'd 'a killed 'un ef you wos dead," he repeated many times, until I
wondered at his apparent love for me.
When I had drunk what Eli had prepared I felt better. My head began to
get clear again, and my strength came back to me.
"Naow," wheedled Betsey, when I had finished, "tell me oal about et.
Tell me, Jasper, my deear."
"You know everything," I replied.
"No, not everything; tell me, for ould Betsey'll ave to 'elp 'ee, my
deear."
So I told her everything, save my love for Naomi Penryn; of that I could
not speak to her, it was a secret for my own heart, and I vowed that I
would never tell of it until I poured the words in the sweet maid's own
ears. At that time I felt sure that the story of my love would remain
forever untold.
"Do 'ee knaw what this do main, Jasper?" said Betsey, when I had
finished.
"He bait 'em boath, boath!" laughed Eli, gleefully.
"Now, Eli," said Betsey, "hark to Jasper, and hark to me. Now tell me,
Jasper."
"I think I know," I said.
"He mustn't knaw that you've come back to St. Eve," said Betsey. "I tell
'ee, you musn't show yer faace. 'Ee'll never rest till you'm out ov the
way. You'll jist be found dead some day, tha's wot'll 'appen. Ef 'ee
caan't do et with the law 'ee'll do et wi'out."
"Yes," I said.
"Well, wot be 'ee goin' to do?"
"I'll go back to Granfer Fraddam's Cave. No one can find me there."
"Tha's true, but what 'bout yer mait?"
"I'll bring 'un mait," said Eli. "I'll bring 'un mait. I knaw, I knaw!"
And the poor gnome laughed joyfully.
"But that caan't last," said Betsey. "Two months more an' winter'll be
'ere. Besides, you caan't git back Pennington by stayin' in a cave. You
knaw what you promised your vather, Jasper; you zaid you wudden rest
night nor day 'till you got back Pennington."
"I remember," I said.
"Bezides," cried Betsey--then she stopped, and looked at me steadily.
She had keen, whitey-gray eyes, which shone very brightly. "Do'ee knaw
who thicky maid wos that you zeed in Fa'muth 'esterday?"
I shook my head.
"Purty, ed'n she?" sniggered Betsey. "She's for Nick Trezidder, my
deear, tha's wot she's for. Her vather an' mawther's dead, my deear, and
she've got piles o' money, an' Richard Trezidder es 'er guardian, an'
they main 'er to marry Nick. Her vather was Squire Penryn, my deear, an'
'ee was killed, an' 'er mawther died a bit agone, so the Trezidders 'ev
got 'er body and soul."
"How do you know?" I asked.
"'Ow do I knaw!" sneered Betsey. "'Ow do I knaw everything?" and this
was the way she always answered when I asked her such a question.
"Where is her home?" I asked.
"Where? Up the country somewhere on the north coast. A big 'ous cloas to
the say, my deear."
"But Penryn is close to Falmouth."
"'Nother branch ov the fam'ly, my deear; but ther', she nothin' to you.
She's good, she's purty, an' she's rich, but she's for Nick Trezidder.
Thews Trezidders do bait the Penningtons, don't 'em?" And Betsey laughed
again.
But I held my tongue. I determined that I would not tell the secret of
my heart, although Betsey's words hurt me like knife-stabs.
"Well, an' when winter do come, what be 'ee goin' to do then, Jasper,
an' 'ow be 'ee goin' to git 'nough to buy back Pennington?"
"I must think, Betsey," I said. "I must think. But I'll do it--I'll do
it!"
"Aisy spok, but not so aisy done. How?"
"I'll help 'un," said Eli.
"You! 'Ow can you 'elp 'un?"
But Eli only hugged himself and laughed, as though he were tickled.
After that but little was said that I can remember.
Before daylight came I went back to the cave. I was sure that neither
Betsey nor Eli would tell of my hiding-place. I was glad for this,
because I knew that if Dick Tresidder knew where I was I should be taken
back to the whipping-post, and perhaps imprisoned. Besides, I was sure
that he feared me, and that he would do everything in his power to make
me suffer. So I determined to stay in Granfer Fraddam's Cave as long as
I could, and I knew that Eli would find out everything about what went
on at Pennington and tell me. Looking back now, my conduct seems foolish
in the extreme. I could do no good by staying in the cave, I could not
get an inch nearer my purpose. It would have been far more sensible to
have sailed to some distant land and sought for fortune. And I will
admit that I was tempted to do this, and should have left St. Eve, but
for a strange longing to stay near Pennington, knowing as I did that
Naomi Penryn was there, and that, although I had never spoken to her, I
loved the dear maid every hour of my life more and more.
One day, I think it was about a week after I had taken up my abode in
the cave, I was sitting at its mouth and looking across the narrow bay,
and watching the tide come up, when I was strangely startled. I remember
that in dreaming of Naomi Penryn a feeling of despair had come into my
heart, for I saw no chance whatever of ever seeing her again, much less
speaking to her. Besides, even if it were possible for me to win her
love I had no right to do so. Pennington seemed further from my grasp
than ever, while Richard Tresidder's hold on it grew stronger day by
day. I was thinking of these things when I saw, two or three hundred
yards out at sea, standing on a rock, a woman's form. The rock was a
large one, and went by the name of "The Spanish Cavalier." It rose from
the beach to the height of fifteen feet, and was never covered save at
high tides. There was, moreover, a curious place in the rock, not unlike
an arm-chair, in which one might sit and watch the shining waves. All
around it was grouped a number of smaller rocks, which boatmen always
avoided, because driving on them was dangerous.
As I said, I saw on "The Spanish Cavalier" a woman's form, and above the
sound of the breakers I heard a cry for help. I did not hurry to the
rescue, for the delay of a few seconds could make no difference, the
rock was now several feet under water; besides, I was not sure what it
meant. At first I could not discern who the woman was, and fancied it
might be one of the Misses Archer, or perhaps Richard Tresidder's
daughter. But then, I thought, they would know the coast, and would not
allow themselves to be caught by the tide in such a way. On looking
again, however, my heart gave a great leap--the woman on the rock was
Naomi Penryn. A feeling of joy surged through me. At last I had my
chance, I should be able to speak to her without let or hindrance. As I
have before stated, the cave had but few houses near. Ikey Trethewy's
cottage stood at some little distance away from the coppice where the
land entrance to the cave had been made, but it was not visible from
"The Spanish Cavalier;" another cottage stood further along the coast,
but that was more than a mile away; while the other house was
Pennington, which was nearly two miles off. Seemingly, there was no
other help than my own near, and I rejoiced that it was so. There was no
real danger, but she needed my help, and that was all I cared for. So I
plunged into the water and was able to wade nearly all the way to the
rock. She saw me coming toward her, and I think my presence gave her
confidence.
"Do not be afraid," I said, as I came up; "there is no danger. I can
easily take you to the shore."
By this time, only my head was visible above the water, but she
recognised me. I saw that she shrank from me, too, as though she were
afraid. At this a coldness crept into my heart, for I remembered where I
stood at the only time she had seen me before.
"I will not hurt you," I said; "I know my way among the rocks, and I can
take you easily."
She looked at me again, doubtfully. Most likely she remembered what the
Tresidders had said about me.
"I will be very careful," I went on; "and you had better come quickly,
for the tide is rising every minute. I know you distrust me, for the
Tresidders hate me; but if I did not desire to help you I should not
have let you see me, for when they know where I am I shall be in
danger."
She lifted her head proudly as though I had angered her, then she looked
at me again steadily, and came toward me.
"Is the water very deep?" she asked.
"It is over five feet here," I replied, "but it is shallower a few
yards nearer the shore."
"You are sure you can swim with me to shore?" she said.
"I shall not try," I said. "If you will let me, I will hold you above my
head. You are not heavy and I--" Then I hesitated, for I did not want to
boast.
"Yes, I know you are very strong," she laughed, half fearfully I
thought; "but how can you do this?"
"Look," I said; "if you will stand on my shoulders so"--and I placed my
back against the rock. "I am afraid your feet will have to be wet, just
a little, for my shoulders are in the water. There, that is it; now hold
my hands," and I lifted my hands as high above my head as I could.
She did as I bade her; thus we both stood with our faces toward the
shore, she standing on my shoulders and stooping a little in order to
hold my hands tightly.
It was joy unspeakable to feel the little fingers in mine, for this was
the first time that my flesh touched hers, and with the touch a thrill
of gladness, the like of which I had never felt before, passed through
my whole being.
I carried her safely. At that time rocks and roaring breakers were
nothing to me, the buffeting of the waves against my body I felt not one
whit! I think she must have felt my great strength, for when I had
carried her a few yards she laughed, and the laugh had no fear.
"You feel quite safe?" I asked presently, when I had got away from the
rocks.
"Quite safe," she said, and so I carried her on until I stood on the
smooth yellow sands, and although the waves still broke, I felt their
force not at all, for the thought of her trusting me made my sinews
like willow thongs.
Right sorry was I when the water no longer touched my feet, and I must
confess that I lingered over the last part of the journey, so pleasant
was my burden, and so glad a thing was it to feel her fingers fastening
themselves around mine. Perhaps she regarded me as she might regard a
fisherman who might have rendered her a similar service, but it did not
matter. I, whom she had seen pilloried as a vagrant and a street
brawler, held her fast, and my love grew stronger minute by minute.
When I put her on the sands, only her feet were wet, and no one could
tell of the position in which she had been.
I shook myself after I had put her down, and I was almost sorry I had
done so immediately afterward, for I could see that my condition made
her sorry for me, and I did not want to be pitied.
"You must get dry clothes at once," she said.
"I have none," I said, unthinkingly, "save my jacket and waistcoat,
which lie on yon rock."
"But you will be very cold."
I laughed gaily. "It is nothing," I said, "the sun will not go down for
three hours yet, and before that time my rags will be dry."
"I am very thankful to you," she said; "I cannot swim, and but for you I
should have been drowned."
"Oh, no," I replied; "you could have climbed to the top of the rock, and
waited till the tide went out again."
"No, I should have been afraid. You have been very kind and very good to
me. I was very foolish to get there, but it was very tempting to climb
on the rock and sit and watch the sea. I must have fallen asleep in the
sun, for I remembered nothing until I felt the cold water beat on me."
"I was not kind or good," I said, roughly. "I thought first it was Emily
Tresidder. Had it been, I should not have gone."
"Yes, you would," she said; "you have a kind face. Besides, you should
not hate the Tresidders. Mr. Tresidder is my guardian."
"I am sorry for you," I said.
She looked at me steadily, but did not speak.
"I know what you are thinking about," I said. "I was pilloried at
Falmouth when you saw me before, and I just escaped being flogged before
the crowd. Even now, I suppose, I am being searched for."
"Indeed you are. Do you think you are safe in staying here?"
"It doesn't matter, I suppose; I shall soon be taken."
"Why do you think so?"
"You will, of course, tell Tresidder where I am, and then my liberty
must soon come to an end."
I hated myself for speaking so, for I saw her lips tremble, as though I
had pained her.
"Is not that unkind?" she said, presently, "and do you not judge the
Tresidders wrongly? Have you not provoked them to anger?"
"They have told you about me, then; they have told you that I am a
thief, a vagabond, a bully?"
She did not reply, but I knew from the look on her face that I had
spoken the truth.
For a second there was a silence between us, then she said, "I thank you
very much, and now I must go back to Pennington."
"Not until you hear my story," I said, eagerly.
"Why should you tell me?" she asked.
"Because I do not wish you to judge me wrongly," I said; "because you
have known me only as one who is evil and revengeful. Let me tell you
the truth."
She did not speak, but she looked at me as if expecting me to go on. So
I told her my story eagerly, told it truly, as I have tried to tell it
here, only in fewer words.
"And this is true?" she asked, eagerly. "That is," she said, correcting
herself, "you are sure you are not mistaken?"
"As God lives, it is true," I replied. "Is it any wonder, then, that I
hate the Tresidders, is it any wonder that I should thrash them as I
would thrash a yelping, biting cur?"
"Is it brave for a strong man to pounce upon a weaker one?" she asked.
"They were two to one," I replied; "besides, the street was full of
people, and he has everything on his side, and I am alone, an outcast, a
beggar in my own parish."
"But he has the law on his side."
"Yes; and he has twisted the law to serve his own ends. He and his
mother have used vile tools to cheat me."
"And if you could save up half the worth of Pennington you could buy it
back."
"I could demand to buy it back. Lawyer Trefry has the copy of the will.
I have seen it. That is why they have tried to ruin me."
"And do you say that Nick tried to stab you?" she asked, anxiously.
"I have the knife yet," I replied. "His name is on it. I trusted him to
wrestle fair, even though he sought to ruin me. Perhaps I was wrong to
hurt him, but I was mad with pain. The mark of the wound is on my chest
now. Look," and I showed her the scar.
She shuddered, then she said, "Hate always brings misery, and love
always brings joy. You should love your enemies."
"Yes; if a man will fight openly and fairly, I will not hate him. If I
wanted to touch an adder with my hand I would not catch him by the tail
so that it could curl around and sting my hand; I would catch it just
behind the head. It might writhe and wriggle, but I should know that it
could not bite me. That is how I want to treat the Tresidders. You
despise me," I went on; "you see me now a thing that has to hide like a
rabbit in burrow. Well, perhaps it is natural--you live with the
Tresidders."
"No, I do not despise you," she said. "I feel for you; I am an orphan
just as you are. Of course, Mr. Tresidder is very kind to me, but
Pennington is not like home--that is--" Then she stopped as though she
had said more than she had intended. "I felt sorry for you when I saw
you in Falmouth. Did--did you see me?"
"I saw you--I--I--look, there is Nick Tresidder and his father coming
now. I must away!"
We were only partially hidden by the rock, at the side of which we
stood. I could see them with sufficient clearness for me to recognise
them. They could see us, but I did not think it would be possible for
them to tell who we were.
"They are searching for me," she cried. "I have been away from the house
a long time."
"Well, go to them," I said.
"But they have seen that there are two of us. Do you think they know us
from this distance?"
"No, we have been partly hidden."
"But if I go, they will ask who has been with me."
"Do you not wish to tell them?"
"If I do you will be in danger. If they know you are near you will be
hunted down. They think you have left the country."
"You can save me if you will," I cried, eagerly.
"I will do what I can!"
"Come, then--there, keep behind these rocks until we get to the cliffs.
Go quickly."
She obeyed me eagerly, and a few seconds later we stood behind a great
jagged promontory.
"Did they see us, do you think?"
"Yes, they saw us, but they could not have recognised us; or I fancy
not," I added, for I had my fears; "but come, walk on the shingle so
that they cannot trace your footsteps. That is it."
We came close to the cave where my clothes lay. These I picked up with a
feeling of relief.
"We are safe now," I said.
"No," she cried; "they will soon come up, and can easily find us."
For she had not seen the mouth of Granfer Fraddam's Cave, although it
was close to her. I was glad of this, for it told me how safe my
hiding-place was, and showed that the opening was so curiously hidden
that a stranger might pass it a hundred times and not see it. So I
helped her to climb up the cliff until I got to a small platform, and
afterward passed along the fissure between the rocks and drew her after
me, and then, when she had followed me a few steps, she saw how
cunningly Nature had concealed the place, and fearful as she was, she
uttered a low exclamation of pleased surprise. For from this place we
could see without being seen, even although we were not inside the cave
itself.
Excited as I was, for my heart was beating fast and my head throbbed at
the same rate, I wondered at my good fortune in making her my friend.
For her willingness to come with me, rather than to expose me to the
Tresidders, showed that she was my friend, and my gladness at the
thought was beyond all words. At the same time I could not help fearing
for her. If either Nick Tresidder or his father had recognised her, she
would be exposed to many awkward questionings, which would be hard for
her to answer; neither did I desire that she should have to suffer for
me. I marvelled greatly, too, that she should have understood the
situation so easily, and that, in spite of all my enemies must have
said, she seemed to trust me so implicitly. I remembered, however, that
she would, perhaps, feel grateful to me for rescuing her from her
awkward position on "The Spanish Cavalier," and that she would be
anxious that my action should not bring any harm to me. And while this
thought did not bring me so much pleasure as it ought, it showed me that
the Tresidders had not altogether poisoned her mind against me.
Although it has taken me some minutes to write down these thoughts, they
passed through my mind very rapidly.
"They cannot see us here," she said, questioningly, "neither can they
find us?"
"Not unless they know the cave," I replied.
"Oh, I hope not," was her response, and although Tresidder was her
guardian and Pennington was her home, it did not feel strange at that
moment that she should be hiding with me, who was being sought for by
the minions of the law.
The sea was by this time getting nearer the foot of the cliff, and there
was now only twenty feet of shingle between water and land. So I stood
and watched, but I could not as yet see them, for the promontory, behind
which we had first hidden, stood between us and them.
"Do you see them?"
"Not yet," I replied, "they have had scarcely time to get here yet, but
I think they will soon be here."
As I spoke I looked on her face, the most beauteous I had ever seen, and
when I remembered what she had done to shield me my love grew more
fervent. For I had no claim on her, who was a stranger, save that I had
carried her to the shore, which of course was nothing. By that I mean to
say it was nothing for which she should serve me; rather it was I who
owed gratitude to her, for my joy at serving her made my heart leap in
my bosom, until I could even then have sung aloud for gladness.
"Are they coming?" she asked again, presently.
"Yes, they are close to us," I replied, for at that moment they had
passed the rock by which we had at first stood.