MYSTERIOUS SOUNDS ARE HEARD ISSUING OUT OF THE EARTH AT MIDNIGHT. THE
CURIOUS COTTAGE ON THE HEATH.
The party who had gone in search of the body of Mr. Freeman and his
guilty associates separated as they approached their respective homes:
Captain Trenow and Josiah went to St. Just, Squire Pendray and Mr.
Morley went to Pendrea-house as we have seen, and Lieutenant Fowler
proceeded on his solitary journey towards his own cabin at
Tol-pedn-Penwith signal-station. On turning a sharp corner in the road,
he met one of his men, who had been ordered out on night-duty, and who
ought to have been watching the coast instead of travelling along on the
public road.
The man touched his cap to his commanding officer, who spoke rather
sharply to him as he returned the salute.
"What brings you here, Braceley?" said he, "when your orders were to
keep close to the cliffs to-night;--for there's mischief afloat, and we
want the coast well watched."
"Yes, sir," replied the man; "I have obeyed orders, and have heard
something that I thought best to report at once, and I came this road,
thinking to fall in with your honor."
"Well! what is it?" said Fowler; "bear a hand, and out with it; for it's
cold standing here in the wind."
"By the powers! sir," said Braceley, looking very solemn, "I believe
'The Maister' isn't far off, for I've heard queer sounds."
"Sounds," said Fowler; "nonsense, man, what do you mean?--This is one of
your confounded Irish superstitions."
"No, sir! by the Holy St. Patrick, 'tis no superstition, nor anything of
the kind," replied Braceley, coming nearer to the officer: "I was coming
along over the cliffs, sir, and I heard voices in the air over my
head,--and I spoke to them, and they answered again. Spirits, I'm sure
they were, your honor! 'The Maister' is here, says I,--and I tould him
to be aisy while I called the praist."
It was a queer story; but as nothing was too strange or improbable to
believe, in connection with "The Maister," after what had happened
within the last few days, Fowler determined he would go and see what it
was himself; so he accompanied the man in silence, until they arrived at
the spot where Braceley said he had heard those extraordinary sounds. It
was now getting dark, and the place was very lonely; not at all the
place that a nervous man would like to be in at night, if he heard
anything that he could by any means imagine was caused by supernatural
agency. Fowler had none of that superstitious feeling in his composition
which was so prevelant everywhere at that period, and he laughed at his
companion, who possessed a good deal of it, and told him that what he
fancied he had heard was entirely in his own imagination. The man could
not be persuaded, however, and they listened for minutes, but heard
nothing, and Fowler said, in a jeering, tone, "'The Maister's' ghost, no
doubt, Braceley! you shall have a guard of nanny-goats when you turn out
on night-duty again."
He had scarcely finished his sentence, before they heard the most
piercing sounds rending the air all round them. Fowler was startled; the
sounds came upon them so suddenly: he listened, but could not make out
where they came from; sometimes they appeared above their heads, and
then again beneath their feet: he did not believe in the supernatural,
but he really didn't know what else to impute it to. His companion,
however, had no doubt whatever but that it was "The Maister's" spirit
hovering about, seeking rest. Neither of them spoke, but they walked on
towards the edge of the cliff, and, on approaching a deep hole or
opening in the rock, about fifty yards from the extreme edge of the
cliff, Fowler was convinced that the sounds were coming up from
underneath. This opening was partially concealed by the overhanging
rocks, and might be passed unobserved by a casual visitor. He however
knew the place well, for he had once, on his first coming to
Tol-pedn-Penwith, made a good seizure of kegs in the cavern beneath.
When they arrived at this place, he called down lustily and asked who
was there, although he could scarcely believe that it could be any human
being. He was soon convinced, however, and astonished beyond measure,
at hearing a well-known voice calling up to him in tones of the
bitterest anguish:--
"Oh! good sir, whoever you are, assist me out of this dreadful place; I
fell from the precipice several hours ago, and crept in here. I am
wounded, and bitterly cold. Oh! good Christian, make haste."
"Don't distress yourself any more," replied Fowler; "you shall be
extricated at once; I know the cavern. I am Fowler of the
signal-station: I will be down to protect you in a few minutes."
In her distress and fear, Miss Pendray had evidently not recognised his
voice so easily as he had recognised hers. He desired Braceley to
proceed at once to the station, and get ropes and lights, and all the
assistance he could. Braceley had a blue-light in his pouch, which
Fowler lit, and fired a pistol, which he knew would bring any of his men
who were within hail to the spot at once. He then descended cautiously,
by the aid of the light, to reassure the unfortunate lady, and to
convince her that relief was at hand. It was a perilous adventure; but
Fowler had been down before; and so he knew that the opening did not
descend perpendicularly. He had first to slide down over a smooth rock,
almost perpendicular, for several yards, and then to jump on a flat
rock, and then slide on again, and so on alternately; but in the descent
the greatest caution was necessary, lest, in jumping on one of the
narrow flat rocks, he should slip and be carried by the impetus headlong
down to the bottom.
Miss Pendray was still sitting on the rock, afraid to move, when Fowler
jumped down at her side, carrying the light in his hand. She could
scarcely express her joy and gratification. She clasped his arm tightly
with both her hands and seemed afraid to let go her hold. She forgot all
her former animosity, and thought only of her present perilous position
and his ability and willingness to save her.
Braceley soon returned with ropes and lights and more assistance, and
they were not long in getting Miss Pendray up from her perilous
position. She was most grateful for the attention and almost miraculous
assistance of Lieutenant Fowler. She was not so much bruised but that
she was able to walk, although her limbs were sore, and her arms and
hands were lacerated fearfully. Fowler accompanied her as far as the
door of Pendrea-house, where he was about to take his leave, but she
would not suffer it: she almost compelled him to come in; for she felt
that, after all he had done for her that night, it was incumbent on her
to dispel some of the clouds which had for some time hung over his
happiness, and which she could not but feel she had been the means of
gathering around him and her gentle sister, and which this evening's
adventure had determined her to make amends for, by explaining to her
father the true state of the case; for she well knew that she had
exaggerated, to use a mild expression, when she told him of the
clandestine meetings of her sister and the lieutenant. Anger and wounded
pride had led her to commit this treacherous and ungenerous act, towards
her younger sister, whom she ought rather to have advised and reproved
in private if she had seen anything wrong in her behaviour. This act had
been repented of often by Miss Pendray, but her proud spirit would not
bend to acknowledge her fault: now she was determined on acknowledging
the part she had played, and, if she could not be happy herself in the
possession of the love of the only man who had ever really gained her
affections, she would at least have the satisfaction of knowing she had
made two others happy, by candidly confessing her own dissimulation.
Mr. Morley, in the meantime, had gone on in search of her; but, as she
had considerably the start of him, he did not overtake her. He walked
over the cliffs for some distance, until he felt convinced that she
could not be gone in that direction; for he did not believe that any
lady would walk even so far as he had gone, on those high cliffs alone
at that hour; so he struck into a path which seemed to lead towards the
high road, thinking that would be the safer way for him to return, as he
was not familiar with the coast. He walked on for some distance, until
he came to a spot where several paths met, and here he was puzzled;
however, he took the one which seemed the most probable, although he had
by this time almost entirely lost his bearings, for he was now on low
ground, and could not see the cliffs or the sea. He walked on briskly
for a considerable time, when he halted again, for he felt convinced he
had missed his way. There was no house or human habitation to be seen,
nor could he see anyone of whom he might enquire; so he walked on again.
The twilight was now getting more decided in its character, and the
shadows of night were closing in, and he began to fear that he might be
kept wandering over that dreary heath all night; for he frequently came
upon some other path branching off from the one he was pursuing, and he
would sometimes be tempted to try a fresh one. At length he thought he
perceived smoke rising at some little distance, and he made sure now
that he should meet with some one to direct him; for it evidently arose
from a cottage at no great distance. He thought of his father's
adventures in that lonely cottage, on that dreadful night, and he braced
up his nerves and walked manfully forward; when, on turning into a
narrow lane which seemed to lead to the cottage, a man ran against him,
and nearly knocked him off his legs. Mr. Morley was a tall, powerful
man, and was armed with a stout stick which he instantly raised above
his head, ready to strike if he found that foul play was intended. The
uplifted hand descended, but not to strike; for Mr. Morley, to his great
surprise recognized in the ferocious and excited individual before him,
his brother Frederick.
"Where on earth did you spring from?" he exclaimed; "I thought you were
at this moment comfortably closeted with that unhappy girl you seemed so
infatuated with."
"I left you with the intention of seeing her and having a mutual
explanation," replied Frederick, "and she, no doubt, now feels that I
have deserted her."
"No! no! she can't think that," said Mr. Morley; "but better she should,
perhaps, than that you should unite yourself to the daughter of this
man."
"But suppose she is not his daughter?" replied Frederick, looking
earnestly at his brother, and speaking hurriedly and anxiously.
"That is a ridiculous speculation," said Mr. Morley, "after what we have
heard and know. Of course she is his daughter; there can be no doubt
about that: she has been known as such, at any rate, in this
neighbourhood; and even the association with such a wretch must carry
contamination with it. Give her up Frederick! let me entreat you to give
her up!"
Frederick did not reply; but, taking his brother's arm, he led him back
to the cottage which he seemed to have just quitted.
It was a lone cottage, and, but for the smoke which Mr. Morley saw
issuing from the chimney, might have escaped his notice in the dim
twilight: it consisted of several rooms, covering a considerable space,
but they were all on the ground-floor. The house was commonly built, the
rooms entering one into the other, without having any passages between
them. There were several doors in the walls, by which a person could
enter or escape, if necessary, and puzzle his pursuers. On entering the
outer room, by the principal entrance-door, Mr. Morley perceived an old
woman sitting at a table, on which were the remains of a substantial
meal, and a good supply of liquor in a small wooden barrel or keg. The
woman had just filled a jug from the barrel, and seemed about to carry
it to some other part of the house; but on the entrance of the gentlemen
she placed it on the table. She was a tall large-boned woman, with a
commanding appearance, and looked as if she was accustomed to be obeyed;
and yet there was an expression of low cunning in her countenance which
was not at all pleasant, and which made strangers feel uncomfortable and
suspicious. She was believed in the neighbourhood to be a witch, and
people went to her to have their fortunes told, and she very often told
them true, for she had her secret spies about as well as "The Maister";
but, from want of education, her prophecies were seldom so startling or
so well or plausibly expressed as his were. It was generally believed
that they were connected in business, and that they played into each
other's hands, although no one had ever seen them together.
Sitting by the fire, on a low stool, was a grotesque looking being,
somewhat between a man and a monkey; not that he was particularly
ill-formed, but the expression of his countenance as he intently watched
the woman's movements, had something ludicrous in it, and but for the
wild stare which occasionally lit up his countenance, he might be an
idiot or an imbecile.
"Ha! ha!" cried he, jumping up and skipping about in a ludicrous manner,
as the two gentlemen entered; "'Maazed Dick' es the boy! 'Maazed Dick'
es the boy! Letter to the young maister;--get him down here! get him
down here! Letter to the cap'n; frightened out of his wits! frightened
out of his wits! ha! ha!"
"Richard!" said the old woman, in her most commanding tone; "hold your
tongue and sit down."
This seemed to have the same effect on "Maazed Dick" as the sharp
command of a sportsman has on a well-trained spaniel dog;--he ceased his
antics and retained his seat by the fire, keeping his eyes fixed on her
of whom he seemed to stand so much in fear.
The old woman then, turning to the two gentlemen, said, "What's your
will, gentlemen? and what do you want here at this hour of the night?"
"This is my brother," said Frederick, "and I want him to hear from your
lips what I have heard to-night: it may tend to convince him that he has
formed a hasty opinion and that all may yet be well."
"Frederick Morley," she said, rising and extending her hand in a
commanding attitude, "you have heard all you will hear from me; do my
bidding and you may know more: if you neglect it, or tell what you have
heard to any human being, except the one named to you, it were better
you had never been born." Saying which, she took up the jug again which
she had placed on the table, and, waving her hand towards the door at
which the two gentlemen had entered, disappeared into an inner room,
bolting the door after her; and, almost at the same moment, "Maazed
Dick" took up the keg of brandy from the table and disappeared also,
somewhere in the wall, but where, the visitors could not tell; he could
not have gone through the wall, that was very certain: there was
evidently a secret cupboard somewhere in the wall; but, if so, it was
very ingeniously concealed.
As there seemed no chance of learning any more, Frederick led the way
out of the house and walked on at a rapid rate, followed by his brother,
until they arrived at the end of the lane leading to the cottage. He
seemed so excited that Mr. Morley became alarmed, and insisted on
knowing what strange infatuation had seized him.
"You heard what that woman said," replied Frederick; "I feel that all
my future happiness depends on my obeying her instructions, and I must
do so."
"Nonsense!" said his brother: "it is perfectly ridiculous to suppose
that the old hag we have just seen can know anything or do anything that
can possibly influence your happiness in any way."
"She has not told me much, it is true," replied Frederick; "but she has
told me enough to convince me that she knows more; but, however little I
have heard, I am bound not to tell it even to you."
"Come! this is going a little too far!" said Mr. Morley, in a serious
tone; "we are engaged in a common cause, and circumstances have
prevented our pursuing our object together for several weeks: we must
not separate again until these dark deeds are brought to light."
"I am convinced," replied Frederick, "that something will come out of my
adventure this afternoon, which will throw a light on the whole. I wish,
from my heart, I was at liberty to tell you; but it cannot be. I must
work alone for a short time longer,--it may be a very short time. You
are, I presume, going on to Fowler's station:--if so, we must separate,
for my way lies in another direction."
"No," replied he, "I was going to Pendrea-house. I went out in search of
Miss Pendray, and I believe I missed my way somewhere; I don't exactly
know where I am."
"Fortunately, then," said Frederick, "you have been walking in the right
direction, although not in the most frequented road: if you take the
next turning on the right you will soon be at the end of your journey."
"But you will surely come with me," said Mr. Morley, taking his brother
by the arm.
"My dear brother," said Frederick, looking earnestly at Mr. Morley; "it
grieves me to be obliged to refuse to accompany you to Pendrea-house
to-night, for many reasons; for I have another duty to perform which I
feel convinced is of vital importance to more than one, but the nature
of which, as I said before, I cannot now explain to you. Believe me, as
soon as I have accomplished the task I have solemnly promised to
perform, you shall know all."
As Mr. Morley saw that his brother was in earnest, and seemed determined
to have his own way, he did not press him further, but bade him
God-speed, and returned to Pendrea-house, which he reached soon after
the arrival of Miss Pendray and Lieutenant Fowler.