Crown and Sceptre Part 18

"Wish again," said Samson, with a chuckle.

"What for?"

"Because then you'll get one," said the gardener, laughing.

"Why, Samson, what do you mean?" cried Scarlett.

"This here!"

There was a rattling sound, a clicking noise of flint upon steel, and soon after a glowing spark appeared, then a blue flame, a splint burst into a blaze, and directly after Samson's red and shining features could be seen by the light of the candle he had lit inside a lanthorn.

"There, lads," he said, closing the door with a snap; "you didn't think to tell me to bring that, but I thought of it, and there we are. Now we can see what we're about," he continued, as he swung the lanthorn above his head; "and not much to see nayther. Only an 'ole. Yes, of course.

There you are. Sheep's bones. Dessay many a one's tumbled down here.

Hole don't go up very high," he added, once more raising the lanthorn above his head; "but it goes down to the sea for sartain."

"Oh, Samson, and you've left the line up above. If we had it here, we might have swung the lanthorn down and seen how deep it was."

"That's just like you, Master Fred," said Samson. "You always think other folk will do what you'd do. You'd ha' left the line up at the top, same as you did your clothes, but being only a gardener, and a very bad one, as my brother Nat says, I put that there line in my pocket, and here it is."

Fred's answer was a slap on Samson's hard broad back, as he tied one end of the line to the lanthorn-ring, swung it over the edge of the shelf, and they watched it go down sixty or seventy feet, feebly illumining the sides of the cave, and as it grew lower an additional radiance was displayed by the light striking on the bottom, which proved to be full of water kept slightly in motion by the influx of the waves outside.

"Not much to see, my lads," said Samson. "No gold, nor silver, nor nothing. Shouldn't wonder if there's pigeons' nesties, though, only you couldn't get at 'em without a ladder. There! seen enough?"

"No; I want to see whether there is any way down," said Fred.

"Any way down?" said Samson, swinging the lanthorn to and fro. "No, my lad--yes, there is. Easily get down at that corner. Slide down or slip down. See!"

"Yes," said the lads in a breath; and long afterwards they recalled their eagerness to know about a means of descent from that shelf.

"Yes," said Samson; "you might make a short cut down to the sea this way if you wanted to. But you don't want to, and it wouldn't be any good if you did, because you'd be obliged to have a boat outside; and if the boat wasn't well-minded, it would soon be banged to matchwood among the rocks. There, my bit o' ground's waiting to be dug, and I've got you two out of your hobble, so here goes back."

As he spoke, he rapidly hauled up the lanthorn, forming the line into rings, untying the end from the ring, and, after giving it a twist, thrusting it back into his pocket, while he undid the strap he wore about his waist, thrust an end through the lanthorn-ring, and buckled it on once more.

"Will you go first, Samson?" said Fred.

"No; I mean to go last. I don't leave here till I see you both safe.

What should I have said to your mothers if you'd been lost and not found for a hundred years? Nice state of affairs that would ha' been."

"Go on first, Scar," said Fred; "we'll hold the rope tight, so that it will be easy."

Scarlett reached up, seized the rope, and began to climb, getting the thick cord well round his legs, as he struggled up for nearly twenty feet, and then he slipped down again.

"Can't we go down the other way, and climb the cliff?"

"No, you can't," said Samson, gruffly. "You've got to go up as you come down. Here, Master Fred, show him the way."

Fred seized the rope, and began to climb, but with no better success; and he, too, glided down again after a severe struggle.

"The rope's so slippery," he said angrily.

"And you call yourselves young gentlemen!" grunted Samson. "Why, you'd ha' been just as badly off if your rope hadn't slipped. Here, give us hold."

Samson seized the rope, and they heard him grunt and pant and cease his struggle, and then begin to grunt and pant again for quite ten minutes, when, just as they rather maliciously hoped that he would prove as awkward as themselves, they heard the lanthorn bang against the rock, a shower of shale fell as it was kicked off, and Samson's voice came down--

"Line is a bit slithery," he said; "but I'm all right now."

They could not see, but they in imagination felt that he had reached the first slope, up which he was climbing, and then felt when he pa.s.sed up the second, showers of shale and earth following every moment, till, all at once, there was a cessation of noise, and of the shower, and Samson's bluff voice exclaimed--

"Up a top! Now, then, lay hold, and I'll have you up to where you can climb."

"Go on, Scar."

"Go on, Fred."

The boys spoke together, and, after a little argument, Scarlett seized the rope, felt himself hoisted up, and, once up at the slope, he soon reached daylight, Fred following in the same way, to stand in the sunshine, gazing at his companions, who, like himself, were covered with perspiration and dust.

"You look nice ones, you do," said Samson, grinning; "and all that there trouble for nothing."

But Samson was a very ignorant man, who knew a great deal about gardening, but knew nothing whatever about the future, though in that instance his want of knowledge was shared by Fred and Scarlett, who, after resuming their jerkins, took, one the pole, the other the coil of neatly ringed rope, and trudged back to the Manor with Samson, who delivered quite a discourse upon waste of time; but he did not return to his digging, contenting himself with extracting his spade from the ground, wiping it carefully, and hanging it up in his tool-house, close to the lanthorn.

"Going home, Master Scarlett?" said Samson.

"Yes, directly."

"Won't have a mug o' cider, I suppose?"

"No, thank ye, Samson."

"Because I thought Master Fred was going to fetch some out, and you could have a drop too."

"Hark at him, Scar! There never was such a fellow for cider."

"Oh yes, there was; but I've yearned it anyhow to-day."

"So you have, and I'll fetch you a mug," said Fred, darting off.

"Ah, that's better," grunted Samson. "Never such a fellow for cider!

Why, my brother's a deal worse than I am, and you wouldn't ketch him leaving his work to take all the trouble I did to-day, Master Scarlett.

Hah! here he comes back. Thank ye, Master Fred, lad. Hah! what good cider. Puzzle your Nat to make such stuff as that."

"He says ours is better," said Scarlett.

"Let him, sir; but that don't make it better."

"Bother the old cider! Who cares?" cried Fred. "Look here, Samson, don't say a word to anybody about our having found that hole."

"No, sir; not I."

"Why did you tell him that!" said Scarlett, as they walked away.