HOW MY LOVE SAVED ME--WHEN FREE I GO TO SEA, AND MONTHS LATER COME BACK
TO BETSEY'S COTTAGE AND HEAR BAD NEWS
As I turned my heart seemed to stand still, for I saw Naomi Penryn, but
when for a moment her eyes met mine it started thumping against my side
as though it had been set at liberty from bondage. I saw, too, that
Richard Tresidder was as surprised as I, and I was afraid lest my love
should be taken to task for what she had done. For a few minutes
everything seemed to swim before my eyes, and my head whirled so that I
thought I was going to faint; but presently as I heard Naomi in sweet,
steady tones answering questions my strength came back to me again.
"You say," said Admiral Trefry, "that Jasper Pennington was in
Pennington kitchen at midnight last Wednesday?"
"He was," replied Naomi, clearly.
After that a lawyer asked her concerning many things. So impudent was he
that I had a difficulty in keeping myself from jumping from the place
where I stood and throttling him on the spot.
"Were you alone in the kitchen?" asked this lawyer.
"I was not."
"Who was with you?"
"Tryphena, the cook."
"How do you know it was midnight?"
"I heard the kitchen clock strike."
"What did Jasper Pennington say to you?"
"You need not answer that question," remarked Admiral Trefry.
"Why did Jasper Pennington come into the house that night?" again
queried the lawyer.
"Need I answer that?" asked Naomi.
"No," answered the Admiral, and I saw that he was anxious to save Naomi
from awkward questions, for which I blessed him. "All we want to know is
whether you are sure Jasper Pennington was at Pennington on the night in
question at the time you state. We have nothing to do as to why he was
there or what was said."
I saw, too, that Richard Tresidder did not wish the lawyer to ask any
more questions, although I was sure the poor girl would suffer when she
returned to Pennington, and I wondered then how I could save her from
pain.
And so very few questions were asked after that, and a little later I
was a free man; for it was clear that if I was at Pennington I could not
be rushing along the headland by the Lizard, and so it must have been
some other man that the Preventive men had chased, and I had been
captured by mistake.
It all seemed so wonderful to me that I could hardly believe that my
danger was past; at the same time I longed greatly to speak to Naomi and
thank her for what she had done. But nowhere could I see her.
As I walked down Falmouth Street I seemed to be treading on air. If I
had loved my love before, it seemed to have increased a thousandfold
now; besides, I knew that she must care for me, or she would not have
braved so much to save me from danger. I had difficulty in keeping from
shouting aloud, so great was my joy. I felt that my strength had come
back to me, and I cared no more for the threats of Cap'n Jack than for
the anger of a puling child. I knew that Israel Barnicoat was somewhere
lying in wait to do me harm, but I was not afraid. I saw this, too:
Richard Tresidder would desire to have as little as possible said about
my visit to Pennington, especially as he hoped that Naomi Penryn would
be his son's wife. I was sure he would seek other means to harm me, but
not in a public way; if I was struck it would be in the dark; but, as I
said, I was not afraid, for had not my love come boldly to my aid, and
saved me from the enmity of evil men?
I had got nearly to the end of the crooked street which makes Falmouth
town, when I felt a hand laid upon my shoulder.
"Well, Jasper," I heard a familiar voice say, and, turning, I saw Lawyer
Trefry.
"If I were you, Jasper, I would get out of this part of the country. You
have escaped this time, but, as I have told you, the Tresidders are
hungry dogs. They will never leave a bone till it's clean picked."
I told him I knew this, but I did so with a laugh.
"I tell you they'll make you laugh on the other side of your mouth, my
lad. I know more than you think--more than I can tell you just now. Get
out of Falmouth as soon as you can, my lad. Cap'n Jack Truscott hasn't
done with you yet--yes, I know about him--neither has Nick Tresidder.
I'll let you have a few pounds, my boy; a vessel will leave the harbour
for Plymouth, and then on to London within twenty-four hours. Get on
board now in the daylight and don't leave her. When once you land at
London Bridge you'll be safe."
Now I must confess that the thought of seeing London was very dear to
me, but I remembered Naomi, and as I thought of the way her eyes flashed
upon me I could not make up my mind to go far away.
"Come and have some dinner with me for old acquaintance' sake, Jasper,"
he said, "and let's talk about things."
So I went with him, for I felt he was my true friend, although all the
time I longed to be trying to find Naomi, longed to tell her how I
thanked her for doing what she had done.
Lawyer Trefry asked me many questions when we were together, and when I
had told him my story he persuaded me to take some money, which he told
me he was sure I should repay, and I promised him that I would do as he
had bidden me, and would go to Plymouth and, if possible, to London. I
did this sorely against my will, for it grieved me exceedingly to be
away from Cornwall at a time when hope filled my heart. Besides, I could
not help thinking that Richard Tresidder would take steps to render
Naomi's life miserable. She would be asked many questions as to my
visit, while Tryphena would be severely catechised. At first I did not
think of the sacrifice my love would have to make in order to serve me,
but as I thought more and more of what I had escaped I realised that she
would probably have to suffer much persecution. For she had no friends
other than those who sought her wealth, and she was in their power until
she was twenty-one. Besides, as I recalled to memory the conversation I
had heard between Richard Tresidder and his son, I knew that no stone
would be left unturned in order to make her comply with their wishes.
All this made me long to stay near her; but I also realised that there
was another side to the question. How could I help her by staying in the
district? Moreover, was I not in great danger myself? Was not Cap'n
Jack's gang on the look-out for me? They would know that I should be a
danger to them, and would seek to serve me as they had served others who
they had thought were unfaithful to them. In addition to this Richard
Tresidder would do his utmost to harm me; especially was this apparent
in the light of what Naomi had done. Moreover, I could do nothing to
help her; indeed, she would probably suffer less persecution from the
Tresidders if they knew I had left that part of the country.
So I kept my promise to Lawyer Trefry, and went on board the _White
Swan_ which lay in Falmouth Harbour, and a few hours later was on my way
to Plymouth.
While we were sailing along the coast I tried to think of my future, for
never had it looked so black and hopeless as now. It is true I rejoiced
at the thought of Naomi Penryn's kindness, and dreamed glad things of
the days to come; but when I began to face facts, and saw my condition
as it really was, my case looked hopeless indeed.
On our way to Plymouth I proved to Captain Maynard that I was not
altogether ignorant of the duties of a sailor, and so pleased was he
with me that he offered me a berth on the _White Swan_. Knowing of
nothing better that I could do I accepted, and for the next few months
worked as a common sailor. During that time we visited several ports on
the coast. I saw Weymouth, Southampton, Portsmouth, Dover and London,
but I will not write of my experiences at this time. Nothing of
importance happened, neither does that time affect the history I am
trying to write.
Of course, I was greatly moved with what I saw in London; at the same
time, even as I mingled with the throng of people who threaded London
streets, I longed for the quiet of St. Eve, and thought much of the maid
to whom I had given my heart. At the same time, I saw no means whereby I
could get back to Pennington, although I thought long and earnestly of
many plans.
I stayed with Captain Maynard seven months, and then made up my mind to
go back to Cornwall again. I felt sure that Cap'n Jack and his gang must
have practically forgotten me, and I could not help thinking that Naomi
Penryn needed me. I dreamed often that she was persecuted by the
Tresidders, and that they were using many cruel means to make her marry
Nick. I was afraid, too, that she, friendless and alone as she was,
would at length be forced to yield to their wishes. And so although I
had not moved one inch forward in the direction of winning back what was
rightly my own, and although I could seemingly do no good by so doing, I
determined that I would go back to Pennington again, and if possible
obtain another interview with Naomi. My heart was very sad, for every
day my love seemed to grow more hopeless. I had told her the desire of
my heart, but although she had been kind to me, and had sacrificed much,
she had not told me with her own lips that she cared for me more than
she might care for any man who she thought was unjustly treated.
And thus the old proverb that "actions speak louder than words" is not
true. For actions may be misinterpreted and misunderstood. Often I tried
to comfort myself with the thought that had she not cared for me more
than she cared for any other, she would not have granted me an interview
that night when I escaped from Cap'n Jack's gang. Again I told myself
many hundreds of times that did her heart not beat for me she would
never have braved her uncle's anger, braved the cruel questions at
Falmouth, and bore what must be hard for a shrinking maiden to bear. But
for all this I could not believe that her heart was mine. How could it
be? Who was I that I should be so blessed? A landless wanderer, who had
been pilloried as a vagabond, and hooted at by the scum of the earth.
No, actions did not speak loud enough for me. Nothing but the words from
her own dear lips, saying, "Jasper, I love you," could convince me,
unworthy as I was, that I could be aught to her.
All the same I determined to go to her, I determined to see her, for my
heart ached in my hunger to be near her, and my eyes would not be
satisfied until they again feasted on her beauty.
It was early in July when I landed in Falmouth Harbour. I think it was
on the first of the month. It was late in the afternoon when I set foot
on solid earth, but I did not stay in the town. Like one possessed I
hurried toward St. Eve, and about half past nine at night I stood in
front of Betsey Fraddam's cottage.
"Come in, Maaster Jasper," said the old woman; "supper es zet fur three.
I knawed you wos a-comin', and zo ded Eli."
So I entered the hut, and there surely I saw three plates placed on the
little table.
The old woman seemed to regard my coming as a matter of course, and made
no more ado than if I had left her cottage that morning. Eli, on the
other hand, made much of me. He caught my hands and fondled them, he
rubbed them against his poor distorted face, and looked up into my eyes
as though he were overjoyed at my coming.
"Jasper, I love 'ee--love 'ee!" he cried. "Eli zo glad you'm back. Eli
do knaw, Eli got a lot to tell 'ee!"
"I think we'll shut the door," crooned Betsey as she looked anxiously
around the cottage. "Nobody do knaw who's 'bout. Ah, Maaster Jasper, you
ded a bad thing when you made an enemy of Jack Fraddam. But ther, you be
'ungry, and you aan't 'ad nothin' to ait for a long time. When I knawed
you wos a-comin' I maade a conger pie. I knaw you like that. Conger,
baaked in milk and parsley, Jasper, my deear. That ed'n bad fur a
witches' supper, es et?"
"How did you know I was coming?" I asked. "I had not made up my mind to
come here to-night until I landed in Falmouth. And no one knew I was
coming to Falmouth. How did you know?"
"How ded I knaw?" asked Betsey, scornfully. "How do I knaw everything?
Ef you'd a traited me vitty, Jasper, I'd a done more fur 'ee. You'd be
in Pennington now ef you'd come and axed me; but you wudden. 'Ow ded 'ee
git on at Jack Fraddam's then?"
"Who's Jack Fraddam?"
"Oa, Cap'n Jack Truscott, seein' you're so partikler. The Fraddam family
es a big wawn, my deear."
"What relation is Cap'n Jack to the Fraddams and to you?" I asked.
"Ef I was to tell 'ee you'd knaw, wudden 'ee. But I bean't a-goin' to
tell 'ee, cheeldrean. No, I bean't, but zet up to supper. Then I've got
sum things to tell 'ee 'bout somebody at Penninton, and arterwards I'll
tell yer fortin, my deear. I bean't a gipsy, but I c'n do that."
As I sat at the table with Eli opposite me on the little window-seat,
and Betsey near me, it seemed as though I had not been away at all.
Neither did the old woman show any interest in what I had been doing.
"Why 'ave 'ee come back, Jasper?" she asked, presently, looking at me
with her light, piercing eyes, while she kept on munching with her
toothless gums, until the white stiff hairs which grew on the tip of her
nose almost touched those on her chin.
I did not speak.
"No, you caan't tell," said she; "you dunnaw why yerzelf. You've cum
'cause you caan't 'elp et, my deear. Yer 'art kipt achin' and longin' so
that you cudden stay away."
I continued silent, for I knew she told the truth.
"But 'tes no use, Jasper, my deear. You aa'nt a got the money to buy
back Penninton, and besides the job's done."
"What job's done?" I asked, eagerly.
"Neck Trezidder, and thicky purty maid."
"How? What do you mean? Tell me?" I cried, starting from the seat.
"Ther' was no Penninton ever born that's a match for a Trezidder,"
chuckled Betsey.
"Tell me!"
"Th' baans (banns) 'll be cried in the church next Sunday," said Betsey.
"Whose?" I cried.
"Neck Trezidder's an' the young laady called Penryn," laughed the old
dame.
"How do you know?" I asked, feeling my knees tremble and my heart grow
cold.
"It doan't need a white witch to know that," cried Betsey. "'Tes in
everybody's mouth. Ef you stayed a month longer, they'd 'a bin married
by now."
I did not stop to consider how Betsey knew of my love for Naomi Penryn.
It was evident she did know as she seemed to know everything else.
Besides, I was in a state of torment at the news she had told me.
"Have the banns been called in church?" I asked.
"Iss," cried Betsey.
"No," said Eli; "I went ther' laast Zunday to heer fur myzelf, but the
passon ded'n zay nothin' 'bout et."
"Aw," grunted Betsey, angry that she had been discovered to have made a
mistake, yet looking lovingly toward her son. "Then they'll be cried
nex' Zunday."
"No they won't," I cried.
"Tell 'ee ther's no chance fur 'ee, Jasper. Ther'v bin oal soarts ov
taales 'bout you. She's awful vexed now that she saaved 'ee from
'angin'."
By this time I had somewhat mastered my excitement, and I knew that the
best way to learn all Betsey knew was to be silent.
"'Tes like this," said Betsey. "Tryphena, Penninton's cook, 'ev got the
sack for laivin' you git into the kitchin."
"And what's become of her?"
"She's livin' in Fammuth. Where she do git 'er money I dunnaw. I aan't a
took the trouble to vind out. As fur the purty maid she've 'ad a offul
life. And she've promised to marry young Maaster Nick. Es fur you,
Jasper, my deear, why Israel Barnicoat, who do live ovver to Kynance, do
zay that 'ee zeed you in Plemmouth weth a maid thet you wos a-goin' to
marry. Others 'ave zeed 'ee, too. Anyhow, the purty maid es a-goin' to
marry Nick."
I tried to understand what this meant. And in spite of everything my
heart grew light. Why should Israel Barnicoat concoct a story about my
being married in Plymouth, and tell it at Pennington? Why should the
story be used as a reason why Naomi should marry Nick?
"It shall never be," I cried, gladly.
"We sh'll zee," grunted Betsey, "we sh'll zee this very minnit. Ould
Betsey 'll tell 'ee yer fortin, Jasper Penninton, and Eli sh'll git the
broth. Ther, Eli, my deear, taake out the brandis."
Now a brandis, as all Cornish folk know, is a three-legged stand made of
iron. It is generally placed on the ground over a fire, and supports
crocks, frying-pans, boilers, or anything that may be used.
Eli put this brandis in the middle of the kitchen on the stone floor.
"Now bring the crock," crooned Betsey, and Eli brought the crock and
placed it on the brandis.
"Put in the broth," commanded Betsey, and Eli obeyed her. I thought he
grew smaller and uglier as he did her bidding, while his eyes grew
larger and shone with a more unearthly light than ever.
"What time es et?" asked Betsey.
"Elev'n a'clock."
"In twenty minuits the moon 'll be vull," muttered the old dame.
Betsey made nine circles around the brandis, then she made nine passes
over the crock, and all the time she munched and munched with her
toothless jaws. Presently she began to repeat words, which to me had no
meaning,
"A first born son, a first born son,
Is this young Jasper Pennington,
And he is here on a moonlit night
To see the spirits of the light.
And I have made my potions fine,
And traced my circles nine times nine.
So mists depart, Tregeagle come
And show the lad his own true home.
Spirits black and spirits white,
Spirits bad and spirits bright,
Come to Betsey's house to-night,
And we shall see the things of light."
All this time she kept blowing on the liquid in the crock, while Eli set
up the most unearthly cries as though he were in pain.
A great terror seized me, for to me Betsey's form seemed to dilate.
"No, Betsey," I cried, "I'll have nothing to do with this wickedness."
"Stop yer noise!" she snarled. "There they come:
"'Join all hands
Might and main,
Weave the sands,
Form a chain.
Spirits black
And spirits white,
Let the first-born know the truth to-night.'"
Now whether I was carried away by superstitious fear or no I will not
say. I simply put down in simple words that which I saw and heard. For a
few seconds all was still, and then the room seemed full of strange,
wailing sounds, while Betsey continued to blow the liquid in the crock
and utter meaningless words.
"Look in the crock, Jasper Pennington," she said.
[Illustration: "'LOOK IN THE CROCK, JASPER PENNINGTON,' SHE SAID."]
I looked on the dark liquid, but I could see nothing.
She blew again. "Now look," she repeated.
As I looked something dark and formless seemed to rise in the crock, but
I saw nothing distinctly.
"Git away," she snarled; "I'll look."
"A rollin' say, Jasper. Waves like mountains; then a black hole, black
as pitch, and great high walls. After that--I'll tell 'ee dreckly. As
for the maid, laive me zee.
'Priests all shaved
Clothed in black.
Convent walls,
Screws and rack.
Women walkin' in procession,
Cravin' for a dead man's blessin'.
Weepin' eyes, wailing cries,
Lonely, lonely, oal alone,
A heart as cold as any stone
Cryin' for a hopeless love.
Helpless, harmless as a dove,
Others spend the damsel's gold,
And only half the taale is told.'"
Now, as I said when I commenced writing this history, there are many
things which happened to me that I cannot understand. For my own part, I
have tried to explain away what Betsey told me even in the light of
after events, which I shall tell presently. I have tried again and again
to show that her words were very vague, and could have no definite
meaning. I maintained this to Mr. John Wesley when I told him the story,
but he shook his head, and said something about dreaming dreams and
seeing visions. Not that I attach any undue weight to Mr. Wesley's
words. I have nothing against this man; but, for my own part, the old
religion of the parish church and the Prayer-book is good enough for me.
These Methodists, who have grown very mighty these last few years, who
claim a sort of superior religion, and tell a man he's going to hell
because he's fond of wrestling, are nothing in my way. The Penningtons
have been wrestlers for generations, and never threw a man unfairly;
besides, they always shook hands before and after the hitch as honest,
kindly men should, and when I'm told that they were on the wrong road
because of this I say the new religion does not suit me. At the same
time, Mr. John Wesley, who is doubtless a good man, although some folks
call him a Papist and others a madman, did believe Betsey Fraddam had
powers which the common run of folks do not possess. Not that he
believed that those powers were good; concerning that the great man was
very reserved.
But I am going away from my story, and that I must not do, for I have
many things to tell, so many that it will not be well for me to stray
away from the track of the tale.
I must confess that the words which I heard Betsey say impressed me very
much, so much that they were engraved on my memory. Besides, I had
become more and more interested in what she was doing, and was now eager
to hear more.
"What is the half of the tale which is not told?" I asked, eagerly.
But she did not reply.
"Eli, Eli, you hear?" she cried.
"Iss, iss," grunted Eli. "'Tes the smugglin' gang."
"'Tes Jack! Jasper, you mus'n be seed. Git out in the gar'n."
"He caan't," laughed Eli. "The spence, Jasper. Run to the spence."
I entered a door which opened into a small compartment, in the which
Betsey's firewood, a box of tools, and many household utensils were
hidden.
I had scarcely closed the door when I heard the voices of Cap'n Jack
Truscott and others of his gang.
I kept very quiet, for I knew that if I were discovered my life would
not be worth an hour's purchase. I was very anxious, too, for I was not
quite sure of Betsey's feelings toward me. All the same I listened very
intently.