Boycotted Part 34

"`Do you see that hill there?' said he, abruptly pointing over our shoulder.

"We turned to look. It was indeed a fine view which met our eyes--a view of which any native of Scilly might be proud. We were about to make an observation to the effect, when he interrupted us.

"`Feel them?'

We certainly did feel something--not in front of us--and not being anxious to take up more of our friend's valuable time, we thanked him for his courtesy and retired.

From the _Round Table Hansard_, August 25th.

Giants' Bay Select Committee.--Lord Merlin was in the chair. The committee sat for a short time to draw up rules of procedure and arrange an adjournment. It was decided to prorogue the inquiry for six months, in order to allow witnesses to attend. A brief discussion ensued on the question of costs, and a short Bill was drafted, which it is proposed to add to the estimates.

The Chairman expressed an opinion that an additional twopence on the income-tax would amply cover the costs of the commission; and it was agreed to await the pa.s.sing of the Bill before fixing the date for the next meeting. The committee then adjourned.

From the _Giants' Bay Broadsheet_, September 10th.

Preliminary Notice.--On the 1st of April next, at the Mart, will be sold those three eligible hotels--namely, Blunderbore Hotel, Cormoran Hotel, and Galligantus Hotel, pleasantly situated in Giants' Bay, Cornwall, commanding fine views of the sea. These palatial houses, standing in their own grounds, are fitted with every comfort and replete with every convenience. Fixtures at a valuation. By order of the executors of the late Giants Blunderbore, Cormoran, and Galligantus.

Catalogues and orders to view on application.

From the _Army Gazetteer_, December 1st.

Captain Tom Thumb to be Major-General, _vice_ Sir Cap a Pie, deceased.

From the _Lincoln Weekly Supplement_, December 25th.

The Reverend Friar Tucker has been appointed to the living lately held by the Reverend Simon Cellarer.

From the _West Anglian Anthropomorphist_, January 1st.

At a meeting held last week it was decided to reorganise this society.

A new president was elected. It was announced that an exhibition would be offered yearly, to be called the "Hardhide Exhibition," for the best essay on the gigantic remains of south-west Britain.

From the _Scampingtonian_, January 25th.

Term has begun. We are glad to say that our chum, a Pie--now Sir Hugh a Pie--has been unanimously elected captain of the football club.

From the _Stilly Gazette_, April 3rd.

At the mart on Monday were sold the three Giant Hotels of Giants' Bay.

The bidding was very slack, but we understand the lots were eventually knocked down to a dealer in old bricks.

Our respected fellow-islander, Dr John Smith, has had the honour of being presented at court, where his Majesty has been pleased to confer on him several stripes, and the order of the Giant Killer. A public reception is to be held in the market-place to welcome home Sir John Smith, G.K., M.D., on his return from London.

From the _Giants' Bay Broadsheet_, June 1st.

The offices of this paper being now closed, subscribers are requested to forward outstanding accounts by return to Messrs. Payup and Sh.e.l.lout, Solicitors, London.

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

Sub-Chapter I.

THE COASTGUARDSMAN'S YARN.

A LEGEND OF THE CIVIL WAR.

Several summers ago I happened to be spending a few weeks at W--, a small fishing village on the Welsh coast. A beautiful little place it was, nestling in a break of the cliffs which rose majestically above it on either side and stretched in gaunt rugged walls seaward.

The beautiful bay, with its sunset lights behind the grand headland, with its deep caves and tumbled rocks, and above all its blue waters, lying sometimes calm and motionless, and at others dashing furiously at the foot of the cliffs, was enough to attract any lover of nature.

And dull little place as it was, with its one tiny inn and its handful of natives, the time I spent there, with my easel and paint-brush, was one of the most enjoyable of my life.

But beautiful as the view was from the land, I found the view from the sea still more attractive, and in order to gratify my tastes in this respect, I took pains to get myself into the good graces of one or two of the fishermen, a few of whom could speak English, and many times accompanied them on their fishing cruises in the bay, where, while they toiled at the nets, I sat and drank in the thousand beauties of the coast, or worked eagerly with my brush to commit them to canvas.

The expedition I liked best was towards the southern headland of the bay, where the cliffs were tallest and steepest and where, to add to the other attractions of the view, stood, perched like an eagle's nest on the edge of the crag, the ruins of an old castle.

By old, I do not mean Roman or even Norman. Indeed in that sense it was comparatively modern; for the building, what was left of it, looked more like one of those Tudor manor-houses which dot the country still, than a fortress. And yet, that it had been fortified was plain enough even still. On the side towards the sea it needed no protection; indeed looking up at it from below, it seemed almost to overhang its precipitous foundation. But on the land side there remained traces of a moat, and loop-holes in the walls, and a ma.s.sive gate.

It was scarcely to be called a picturesque ruin, except inasmuch as every ruin is picturesque. Its bare walls rose gaunt and black out of the ground, not out of a heap of tumbled moss-grown masonry, or covered over with ivy. There were very few signs of decay about the place, ruinous as it was, and very little examination was enough to show that it had suffered not from old age, or from the cannon of an enemy, but from fire.

No one about could tell me its story, and the mystery of the place only added to its charm. Indeed I was quite glad to discover that it had not even a name, and that the country folk would as soon have thought of crossing the old moat after nightfall as they would have done of stepping over the edge of the cliff. The only thing I could learn about it, in fact, was that it was haunted, and that the one little turret which still retained a roof, and over which the only ivy visible tried to creep, was railed the Lady Tower, and was the "most haunted" spot of all.

I could not believe that the one corner of the old ruin where there still remained a sign of life and verdure, could be infested by any very terrible ghost. Still I am not quite sure whether I should have enjoyed a solitary night's rest there, and to have suggested the thing to the natives of W-- would have been enough to secure my incarceration as a raving lunatic. So I did not. But by daytime I added myself one more to the spirits that haunted the place, and yielded myself up completely to its fascination.

One day towards the end of my visit I walked over to a coastguard station some miles along the sh.o.r.e for the sake of taking a last survey of the beautiful coast. When I reached it I found, to my pleasure, one of the W-- fishing-boats just preparing to put out and sail round the headland back to the village. One of the coastguardsmen was on board, and I was glad to accept the invitation of my honest friend to form another of the party.

I found the coastguardsman a most intelligent fellow--well informed on many subjects, and even professing to be something of an art critic. I showed him one or two of my pictures, and he was graciously pleased to approve of them, especially a sketch of the ruined castle from the south, with the Lady Tower in the foreground.

The examination of this picture naturally turned the conversation on to the ruin, and I was delighted to find my companion seemed almost as interested in the subject as I was.

"It's a strange thing," said I, "that the one thing wanting seems to be a story."

"Ah! that was burnt out by the fire, sir."

I was rude enough to laugh. He fancied I was lamenting the absence of the top storey!

"I don't mean that," I said. "What I mean is, no one seems to know anything about the place or its history."

"Not they! What should they bother their heads about it for?"

"But it must have a history of some sort," said I.

"Of course it has."

"Do you know it?"

"Of course I do."