AN AWFUL CATASTROPHE.
Mrs. Trenow was not long in executing her errand, and Alice Ann was
quite delighted at the thoughts of being once more in attendance on
Alrina.
There were no conveyances to be had, so that the gentlemen were puzzled
how they should convey Alrina and her attendant across the country to
the place of rendezvous. Alrina had already walked from thence to St.
Just, that morning, or rather in the course of the night; so that,
although the distance was not more than six or seven miles, her walking
back there again was quite out of the question. It was decided that
Frederick should ride straight to Penzance, as fast as he could, to
inform his aunt that Alrina had been found, and to send a carriage for
her if his aunt wished it; and Alice Ann proposed that Alrina should
ride on the other horse to the cottage, while Mr. Morley and herself
walked by her side. As no better plan could be thought of, Alice Ann's
suggestion was adopted, and the party set out at a slow pace, which gave
them time for reflection and conversation on the road. Alice Ann could
tell them many a legend connected with the different places they passed,
and especially about Chapel Carn-Brea, where many a terrible deed had
been done, she said, in times past, and where ghosts might be seen
walking now, if anyone had the courage to go there at the midnight
hour. "That boy, Bill could tell a sight of stories about this and
that," said she, "I b'lieve he and 'The Maister' ha' be'n there brave
an' often together."
"I wonder what has become of that boy?" said Alrina, joining for the
first time in the conversation, "I am sure he knows a great deal about
many things that are mysteries to other people."
"He do so," replied Alice Ann, "he wor the cutest chap for his size that
evar I seed; and as for tongue, why, he would turn 'ee inside out in a
minute, ef you dedn't keep your eyes abroad. What's become of he I
caen't tell; but I can give a purty near guess, and so can Mrs. Trenow
too, so she do say."
"Who was this boy?" asked Mr. Morley, "where did he come from?"
"I can no more tell than you can, sar," replied Alice Ann, "he wor found
one night when he wor a cheeld, outside the workhouse door, an' wor
broft up by the parish, so I've heard; for tes a bra' many years
ago,--f'rall he's so small."
"Do you think he knew anything of my fa----, of Mr. Freeman's mysterious
doings?" asked Alrina, who seemed now to take more interest in the
conversation than she had done during the first part of the journey.
"Do I think?" replied Alice Ann, "I do knaw that he ded. 'Siah have seed
that boy up to Chapel Carn-Brea in the middle of the night, when he ha'
ben coming home from Bâl, and 'The Maister' havn't ben very far off, an'
he whistling like a black-bird, that time o' night. I tell 'ee Miss
Reeney, that boy Bill wor no good. What's become of the boy? says
you.--What's become of 'The Maister?' says I. Find the one, and you'll
find the t'other; that's my b'lief."
Thus they wiled away the time during the journey, until they arrived at
the brow of the hill which overlooked the cottage to which they were
directing their steps. Mr. Morley had turned round when they arrived on
this eminence in the morning, to view the surrounding neighbourhood, and
to mark the spot, that he might be able to find it again easily, for it
was situated in rather a secluded valley, the approach to which was by a
narrow path branching off from the main road. Everything looked serene
and calm then, and, but for a thin jet of smoke rising from one of the
chimneys and curling up against the clear blue sky, the cottage and its
locality would have passed unobserved by a casual traveller; for it
stood very low, as we have said before, all the rooms being built on the
ground-floor: the walls were rudely built of clay--earth and straw
wetted and well mixed together,--called in Cornwall, "Cob;" the roof was
thatched with straw; and the partitions, inside, were made of thick
wood, collected, from time to time, from the wrecks of vessels, with
which that part of the coast of Cornwall abounds in the winter season.
As the party halted now on the top of this eminence, to enable Mr.
Morley to reconnoitre and take his bearings, to guide him in the
selection of the right path leading directly to the cottage, he saw,
instead of a thin curl of smoke, such as he had seen in the morning, a
large volume of black smoke rising from the spot, almost darkening the
sky; and, at short intervals, a long tongue of fire would rise into the
air above the smoke, and disappear again, as a darker and more dense
volume of smoke issued forth.
"The cottage is on fire!" exclaimed Mr. Morley. "Follow me, as well as
you can; take the second turning to your right:" and away he ran,
leaving the two females to take care of themselves and the horse, and to
find their way to the cottage as well as they could.
When Mr. Morley arrived at the spot, an awful sight presented itself to
his view. The cottage was in flames, which the straw roof and wooden
partitions were feeding most bountifully; and, as they consumed the dry
conbustible on which they were feeding so greedily, their long tongues
would issue, in fantastic spurts, from the doors and windows on the
leeward side of the building. It was a fearful sight; a good number of
men and women were already there, attracted by the smoke, which could
now be seen far and wide. Josiah had been there some little time: he had
received intelligence of the fire, as he was returning from the
signal-station, and he hastened down to the spot at once, having sent a
messenger on to Lieut. Fowler with all speed. Josiah, and the few
persons who were there when he arrived, did all they could in carrying
buckets of water from a well at a short distance off; but their efforts
seemed at first to be increasing the fire rather than abating it. They
continued however to pour water into the rooms on one side of the
building which seemed the most likely to be inhabited, and, by opening
the doors and windows on the other side, they, in a measure, diverted
the fire to that side; but whether they were doing right or wrong they
could not tell; they could only conjecture on which side the inmates, if
any, were located.
Lieut. Fowler and his men, followed by a number of people from the
surrounding neighbourhood, had just arrived, and the lieutenant was in
the act of marshalling his men, when Mr. Morley rushed down among them,
in the greatest excitement, asking all sorts of questions, as to how the
fire had originated, and if there were buckets enough, and if the
inmates had been got out; but instead of replying, Fowler took him by
the arm, saying, "Take half a dozen men to the well, Morley, with
buckets and ropes, and keep them there. Let them fill the buckets as
fast as they can, and I will organize a double row of men and women from
thence to the cottage to pass the full buckets up and the empty ones
down; and my men and Josiah will then pour the water where it will be
most available for extinguishing the flames." And to Squire Pendray, who
also arrived about the same time, he allotted the task of keeping the
double row of men and women steady at their work.
The commanding voice of the officer, and the example of his men,
accustomed to obey, very soon restored order, where there was nothing
but confusion before; and, by his judicious management, and the courage
and bravery of his men, assisted by the strong arm of Josiah, the flames
were soon got under sufficiently to enable some of them to enter the
house. Fowler set a guard outside each door to prevent the mob from
entering, and then, taking Mr. Morley and the squire with him, they
entered the house followed by Josiah, and opened some of the inner-doors
to let out the smoke, when something flitted by them and rushed into the
interior of the house; but whether it was a man or a woman they could
not make out. Josiah however, seemed to know what it was, for he
followed immediately in full chase, leaving the others behind, who
thought their most prudent plan was to emerge into the air to refresh
themselves, and be prepared for anything that might turn up; for, in a
very short time, the smoke would have evaporated sufficiently to enable
them to go through the house with ease and impunity. Josiah did not
return; so after a few minutes, the three gentlemen entered the house
again. The entrance-rooms were not very much damaged; but as they
proceeded, the ravages of the fire were fearful. The straw roof was
entirely destroyed, from one end to the other. They passed into one
room, if a room it could be called now, where the fire seemed to have
raged in its greatest fury, and, looking into what was once another
room, divided from the place where they stood by a thick wooden
partition, they beheld a sight which made them shudder. The door, which
was not so thick as the partition, was burnt to ashes, and a portion of
the thick partition was also burnt: it was evident that the interior of
the room had been partially preserved by the water which Josiah and the
first comers had thrown in when they first arrived; but it had been the
scene of a great conflagration, and the smoke had hardly cleared away
yet: the walls were blackened, and the ornaments and pictures which hung
against them had dropped off with the heat. It had evidently been a
well-furnished room, the remains of which were still to be seen. The bed
was reduced to ashes, and it seemed as if the flames from the bed had
communicated to some inflammable substance in the room, and thence to
the straw roof which was not protected or covered on the inside, and was
at no great distance above the head of the bed. But their attention was
not long confined to the destruction of the bed and the other furniture
of the room; for a more awful spectacle presented itself to their view.
On the floor, in a corner of the room, lay two females, the elder one
having her hand entwined in the long hair of the younger, who grasped
the elder woman's arms in a strong determined grip. That it had been a
death-struggle there could be no doubt; but how they got there, or what
the struggle was about, neither of the three gentlemen could divine. But
there they lay, behind the door, dead!--They had been suffocated, no
doubt by the smoke: their clothes were burnt and their flesh had been
scarred by the fire.
The younger of the two, seemed well dressed, as far as they could judge
by the little that was left of it, and she must have been a well-formed
comely figure, in the hey-day of youth: the elder was an emaciated
figure, evidently the occupant of the bed which had once stood in the
middle of the room. It was a dreadful sight, and the three gentlemen
left the room in search of information as to their identity, when they
met Josiah, holding a boy by the arm. Mr. Morley pointed to the room
from which they had just retreated, and looked enquiringly at Josiah.
"Iss, sure I've seed them!" said he, "and 'tes a whisht sight, sure
'nuff; but there's a whisheder sight for 'ee to see yet. This way ef you
plaise, gen'lemen:" and he led the way, still holding the boy by the
arm, till they came to a room at the other end of the house, which
seemed to have suffered more from the fire than any they had yet seen;
for this end had been neglected by them all, supposing that nothing of
any consequence would be found there.
This part seemed more securely built, and to have been better furnished
than any of the other rooms. The partitions were of thicker wood, and
the doors and windows were better finished with bolts and locks: the
door had not been burnt through, as the other doors and partitions had
been. Josiah said he had burst open the door from the outside, and it
now stood wide open. On the floor lay the body of a man, whose lower
extremities were literally burnt to a cinder; but his features, although
blackened by the action of the fire, were still discernible. One look
was enough! The whole party hurried from the scene with horror depicted
in their countenances, and it was not until they got out into the open
air, that either of them could find words to express their horror and
dismay at what they had just witnessed.
Josiah still held the boy by the arm, who seemed very much distressed.
Outside the door they encountered Alrina and Alice Ann, who were most
anxious to hear all particulars.
"You shall know all, after we have made the necessary enquiries," said
Lieut. Fowler.
At this moment a carriage drove up to the scene, and the post-boy handed
a letter to Mr. Morley: it was from his aunt, begging him to bring
Alrina to Penzance at once; he therefore told the squire and Lieut.
Fowler that he was obliged to go to Penzance, but would be back again
immediately; so the squire requested all the others of the party to go
on to Pendrea-house and wait until Mr. Morley's return; for he said they
must need some refreshment after the fatigues of the morning. Josiah
took charge of the boy; for they all believed he could enlighten them on
all that had happened. Alice Ann accompanied her mistress and Mr. Morley
in the carriage to Penzance.