The Fiddler's Cave, _alias_ Canterbury Cave, _alias_ the Smugglers'
Cave, is a cavern of unknown extent situated under the high chalk cliffs
at the southern extremity of Saint Margaret's Bay.
Tradition informs us that its first appellation was bestowed in
consequence of a fiddler having gone into it with his dog many years
ago, and never having come out again. Four days afterwards the dog
crept out in a dying condition. It is supposed that the man must have
wandered too far into the cavern, and been overpowered by foul air.
Tradition also says that there is a passage from it, underground, all
the way to Canterbury, a distance of eighteen miles; hence its second
name. No one, however, seems to have verified this report. The Kentish
smugglers, from whom the cave derives its last title, have undoubtedly
made much use of it in days of old. At the period of our story, the
entrance to Fiddler's Cave was so much obstructed by rubbish and sand
that a man had to stoop low on entering the passage which led to the
interior. At the present day the entrance is so nearly closed up that a
man could not creep along it even on his hands and knees.
Here, on the threatening night of which we are writing, a boatman stood
on the watch, close under the rocks that overhung the entrance to the
cavern. The man was habited, like most of his brethren of the coast, in
rough garments, with long boots, sou'-wester cap, and oiled, tarred, and
greased upper garments, suitable to the stormy night in which he had
seen fit to hold his vigil.
A feeble ray of light that struggled in the cavern showed that the man
clutched a pistol in his right hand, and with a frown on his brow,
glanced alternately out to sea where all was darkness, and along shore
where the only visible living object was the figure of old Coleman
seated on his "donkey." It need scarcely be added that the sight of the
coast-guard-man was the cause of the smuggler's frown.
The gale was now blowing stiffly, and rolling black clouds so covered
the sky that the moon was entirely obscured by them, save when an
occasional break permitted a few rays to stream down and reveal the
elemental strife that was going on below.
Coleman, regardless of the storm, maintained his position on his
one-legged companion, and bending his body to the blast, endeavoured to
pierce the gloom that enshrouded everything seaward beyond the large
breakers that sent their foam hissing up to his very feet. While he sat
there he thought, or muttered, thus:--
"It's odd, now, I'd ha' thought he'd have run ashore afore this; seein'
that I've sat on this here donkey for more nor an hour, a-purpose to let
him see that I'm only watchin' _here_, and nowhere else. He can't but
see there's a goodish lump o' the coast free to him so long as I sit
here. But he's a sly feller; p'raps he suspects somethin'. An' yet,
I'll go bound, he don't guess that there's six or seven of his worst
enemies hidin' all along the coast, with eyes like needles, and ears on
full cock! How'sever, it won't do to sit much longer. If he don't come
in five minutes, I'll git up an' walk along in an easy unsuspectin' way.
Dear me, wot a set o' hypocrites we've got to be in the hexecution of
our dooty!"
While Coleman moralised thus, in utter ignorance of the near proximity
of an eye-witness, the smuggler at the mouth of the cave, who was no
other than Orrick's friend, Rodney Nick, muttered some remarks between
his teeth which were by no means complimentary to the other.
"What are ye sittin' there for, ye old idiot?" said he savagely. "I do
b'lieve ye've larned to sleep on the donkey. Ha! there's two of ye
together, an' the wooden one's the best. Wouldn't I just like to be yer
leftenant, my boy? an' I'd come to know why you don't go on your beat.
Why, there may be no end o' cats and galleys takin' the beach wi' baccy
an' lush enough to smother you up alive, an' you sittin' there snuffin'
the east wind like an old ass, as ye are."
The smuggler uttered the last sentence in deep exasperation, for the
time appointed for signalising his comrades at sea had arrived, and yet
that stolid coast-guard-man sat there as if he had become fastened to
the shingle.
"I've a good mind to run out an' hit ye a crack over yer figure-head,"
he continued, grasping his pistol nervously and taking a step forward.
"Hallo! one would a'most think you'd heard me speak," he added and
shrank back, as Coleman rose from his seat (the five minutes having
expired), and sauntered with a careless air straight towards the cave.
On reaching it he paused and looked into it. Rodney Nick crouched in
the shadow of a projecting rock, and grasped his pistol tightly for a
moment, under the impression that he was about to be discovered. He was
one of those fierce, angry men who are at all times ready to risk their
lives in order to gratify revenge. Old Coleman had more than once
thwarted Rodney Nick in his designs, besides having in other ways
incurred his dislike, and there is no doubt that had the coast-guard-man
discovered him at that moment, he would have paid for the discovery with
his life. Fortunately for both of them Coleman turned after standing a
few seconds at the mouth of the cave, and retraced his steps along the
beach.
He prolonged his walk on this occasion to the extremity of his beat,
but, long before reaching that point his figure was lost to the
smuggler's view in darkness.
"At last!" exclaimed Rodney Nick, taking a dark lantern from his breast,
and peering cautiously in every direction. "Now then, Long Orrick, if
ye look sharp we'll cheat 'em again, and chew our quids and drink our
grog free of dooty!"
As he muttered his words the smuggler flashed the lantern for an
instant, in such a manner that its brilliant bull's-eye was visible far
out at sea. Again he let its light shine out for one instant; then he
closed the lid and awaited the result.
Out upon the sea, not far from the wild breakers that thundered and
burst in foam on the south end of the Goodwin Sands, a boat, of the size
and form styled by men of the coast a "cat," was tossing idly on the
waves. The men in her were employed in the easy task of keeping her
head to the wind, and in the anxious occupation of keeping a "bright
look-out" on the shore.
"Time's up," said one of the men, turning suddenly towards his
companions, and allowing the light of a dark lantern to fall on the face
of a watch which he held in his hand.
"Dowse the glim, you lubber," cried the angry voice of Long Orrick, "and
keep a sharp look-out for the signal. If it don't come we'll run for
Old Stairs Bay, an' if they're too sharp for us there we'll make for
Pegwell Bay, and drop the tubs overboard with sinkers at 'em."
For nearly quarter of an hour the party in the boat watched in silence.
It was evident that Long Orrick was becoming impatient from the way in
which he turned, now to windward, to scan the threatening sky, and then
to land-ward, to look for the expected signal. He felt, on the one
hand, that if the gale continued to increase, it would be necessary to
run for the nearest place of safety; and he felt, on the other hand,
that if he did not succeed in landing the goods at Fiddler's Cave, there
would be small chance of his getting them ashore at all.
"There's the glim," cried one of the men.
"All right! up with a bit o' the sail," said Long Orrick, seizing the
tiller from the man who held it.
In a second or two they were driving before the wind straight for the
shore. With such a stiff breeze the boat was soon close to the
breakers, and now the utmost care was necessary in order to prevent it
from broaching-to and being capsized. No anxiety was felt, however, by
the crew of the little craft. Deal boatmen are noted for their
expertness in beaching their boats and in putting off to sea in rough
weather, and the man who held the tiller of the little boat which danced
on the white crests of the waves that night had many and many a time
come through such trifling danger scatheless.
"Look out, Bill," cried Orrick, as the thunder of the waves on the beach
sounded in his ears, and the great chalk cliffs rose up, ghostlike and
dim, before him. To one unaccustomed to such scenes it might have
appeared an act of madness to run ashore on such a night. But the
danger was not so great as it seemed.
The man at the bow stood ready with a boat-hook. In a moment the keel
grated on the shingle. Instantly the men were over the side, and the
boat was hauled up the beach.
"Now, then, for the tubs. Make for the cave straight. Rodney Nick will
be here in a minute. Ah, here he comes! Well, Rodney, we've done it
pretty smart," said Long Orrick, wading with a keg of brandy towards a
figure which approached him from the beach. "Here you are! there's lots
more of 'em. We're in luck. Look alive. The coast's clear, I
suppose?"
"Hall right," said the dark figure in a hoarse whisper, which terminated
in a low chuckle, as Long Orrick placed the keg innocently in the arms
of old Coleman and returned to the boat for more!
It may be as well to remark here--in order to clear up this mystery--
that although Coleman had not observed the flash of Rodney Nick's
lantern, his sharp eye had observed the gleam of the light in the boat,
when one of the men, as already mentioned, threw it on the face of his
timepiece.
Supposing, erroneously, that this latter was a signal to the shore,
Coleman, nevertheless, came to the correct conclusion that some one must
be awaiting Long Orrick near at hand, and felt convinced that the
Smugglers' Cave must needs be the rendezvous.
Hastening cautiously to Bax, whose station was not far distant from the
cave, he communicated his suspicions, and they went together towards the
place.
"I'll go in first," said Coleman, "'cause I know the place better than
you do."
"Very good," assented Bax, "I'll stand by to lend a hand."
Arrived at the cavern, Bax waited outside, and Coleman went in so
stealthily that he was at Rodney Nick's side before that worthy had the
smallest suspicion of his presence. Indeed, Coleman would certainly
have run against the smuggler in the dark, had not the latter happened
to have been muttering savage threats against wind and tide, friends and
foes, alike, in consequence of the non-appearance of the boat.
Seizing him suddenly from behind, Coleman placed his knee in the small
of his back, forced him almost double, and then laid him flat on the
ground.
At the same moment Bax knelt by his side, put one of his strong hands on
the smuggler's right arm--thereby rendering it powerless--and placed the
other on his mouth.
So quickly was it all done that Rodney was bound and gagged in less than
two minutes. Coleman then ran out just in time to receive the first
instalment of the brandy, as already related. Being much the same in
build and height with Rodney Nick, he found no difficulty in passing for
him in the darkness of the night and violence of the wind, which latter
rendered his hoarse whispers almost unintelligible.
In this way several kegs of brandy, boxes of cigars, and bundles of
tobacco were landed and conveyed to the cavern by Coleman, who refused
to allow Bax to act as an assistant, fearing that his great size might
betray him.
On the fifth or sixth trip he found Long Orrick waiting for him somewhat
impatiently.
"You might have brought a hand with ye, man," said the latter, testily.
"Couldn't git one," said Coleman, taking the keg that was delivered to
him.
"What say?" cried Orrick.
"Couldn't git one," repeated the other, as loudly and hoarsely as he
could whisper.
"Speak out, man," cried Long Orrick, with an oath; "you ain't used to
have delicate lungs."
"I couldn't git nobody to come with me," said Coleman, in a louder
voice.
The tone was not distinct, but it was sufficient to open the eyes of the
smuggler. Scarcely had the last word left his lips when Coleman
received a blow between the eyes that laid him flat on the beach.
Fortunately the last wave had retired. There was only an inch or so of
foam around him. Long Orrick knelt on his foe, and drew a knife from
his girdle. Before the next wave came up, Coleman with one hand caught
the uplifted arm of his adversary, and with the other discharged a
pistol which he had drawn from his breast. In another instant they were
struggling with each other in the wave which immediately swept over the
beach, and Bax was standing over them, uncertain where to strike, as the
darkness rendered friend and foe alike undistinguishable.
The men in the boat at once rushed to the rescue, omitting to take
weapons with them in their haste. Seeing this, Bax seized the
struggling men by their collars, and exerting his great strength to the
utmost, dragged them both high upon the beach. He was instantly
assailed by the crew, the first and second of whom he knocked down
respectively with a right and left hand blow; but the third sprang on
him behind and two others came up at the same moment--one on each side--
and seized his arms.
Had Bax been an ordinary man, his case would have been hopeless; but
having been endowed with an amount of muscular power and vigour far
beyond the average of strong men, he freed himself in a somewhat curious
manner. Bending forward, he lifted the man who grasped him round the
neck from behind quite off his legs, and, by a sudden stoop, threw him
completely over his head. This enabled him to hurl his other assailants
to the ground, where they lay stunned and motionless. He then darted at
Coleman and Long Orrick, who were still struggling together with
tremendous fury.
Seeing his approach, the smuggler suddenly gave in, relaxed his hold,
and exclaimed, with a laugh, as Bax laid hold of him--
"Well, well, I see it's all up with me, so it's o' no use resistin'."
"No, that it ain't, my friend," said Coleman, rising and patting his foe
on the back. "I can't tell ye how pleased I am to meet with ye. You're
gettin' stouter, I think. Smugglin' seems to agree with ye!--hey?"
He said this with a leer, and Bax laughed as he inspected Long Orrick
more narrowly.
The fact was that the smuggler's clothing was so stuffed in all parts
with tobacco that his lanky proportions had quite disappeared, and he
had become so ludicrously rotund as to be visibly altered even in a dark
night!
"Well, it does agree with me, that's a fact," said Long Orrick, with a
savage laugh; in the tone of which there was mingled however, quite as
much bitterness as merriment.
Just at this moment the rest of Coleman's friends, including Tommy Bogey
and Peekins, appeared on the scene in breathless haste, having been
attracted by the pistol-shot.
In the eager question and answer that followed, Long Orrick was for a
moment not sufficiently guarded. He wrenched himself suddenly from the
loosened grasp of Bax, and, darting between several of the party, one of
whom he floored in passing with a left-handed blow, he ran along the
shore at the top of his speed!
Bax, blazing with disappointment and indignation, set off in fierce
pursuit, and old Coleman, bursting with anger, followed as fast as his
short legs and shorter wind would permit him. Guy Foster and several of
the others joined in the chase, while those who remained behind
contented themselves with securing the men who had been already
captured.