Devon Boys Part 52

It was all grand in the extreme, but somehow I felt, as did Bob and Bigley, that a well-spread tea-table with some hot fried ham and some eggs, with new bread, would have been worth it all.

I am almost ashamed to put this down, but my companions confided their feelings to me afterwards, and it is perfectly true.

By degrees the bright colours on the sea and overspreading the sky faded out, and all grew dark, save where there was a glow in the north. The stars had come out bright and clear, and covered the sky like so many points of light looking down at themselves in the mirror-like sea. The tide came up fast, and as the waves heaved and swayed and ran in, it seemed as if they were sweeping before them myriads and myriads of stars, for the water was covered with light, some being the reflections from the sky, others the curious little specks that we used to see in the water in warm weather.

We sat and talked and lay close to the edge to watch the waves come sweeping in more and more, till the little bay was covered and the tide rose over the outlying rock, the water sounding wild and strange as it washed, and splashed, and sighed, and sucked in amongst the stones.

Then, by slow degrees, as we gazed down we found how necessary it had been for us to climb up to our perch, for the tide rose and rose, higher and higher, till it must have been seven or eight feet up the rocks below us; and now it was that we listened with a peculiar creeping sensation to the swell, as it rolled in and evidently right up into the caves which we had seen.

"Why, those places must go a long way into the cliffs," said my father as we listened. "Hark at that."

It was a curious creepy sound of hissing and roaring, as if there were strange wild beasts right in amongst the windings of the cave, and they had become angry with the sea for intruding in their domain.

"Seals!" said Bob Chowne decisively.

"No," said my father, "it is only the imprisoned air escaping from some of the cracks and crevices into which it is driven by the sea. Why, boys, those caves must be very large, or at all events they go in a long way. You ought to explore them some day at low water. Warm enough?"

We all declared that we were, and sat gazing out at the soft transparent darkness overhanging the sea, which was wonderfully smooth now, in spite of the soft western breeze that was blowing; and at last the silence seemed to have become perfectly profound. So silent were we that every one started as my father said suddenly:

"Look here, boys, suppose I tell you a story."

The proposal was received with acclamation, and he lay back against the cliff and related to us one of his old sea-going experiences, to the very great delight of all.

CHAPTER THIRTY ONE.

THE SMUGGLERS' LANDING.

After my father had finished his story it was arranged that watch should be set, and the arrangement made was that Bob Chowne and I should take the first spell, and it was to last as long as we liked--that is to say, we were to watch until we were tired, and then call my father and Bigley, who would watch for the rest of the night.

Bigley said he should not sleep, but he followed my father's example and lay down, while in a few minutes his regular breathing told that he had gone off; and before long, as Bob Chowne and I sat talking in a low tone, we knew that my father was asleep as well.

And there we two lads sat on the shelf of rock listening to the sobbing and sighing of the tide, and staring out to sea. Sometimes we talked in a low voice about how uncomfortable some people would be about us, and Bob said it was like my luck--that I had my father with me, while his and Bigley Uggleston's would be in a terrible way.

"And a nice row there'll be about it," he said dolefully. "There never was such an unlucky chap as I am."

"And Big?"

"Oh, Big! Pooh! His father never takes any notice about him."

Then we talked about the drilling, and the silver mine and my father's success, and what a fine thing it was for me; and about school-days, and what it would cost to get a new boat for old Jonas, and about Bob going up to London to be a doctor; and we were prosing on, but this gave him a chance to become a little animated.

"I don't want to be a doctor," he said fiercely; "but I'll serve some of 'em out if I'm obliged to be. I'll let them know!"

"What stuff!" I said. "Why, I should like to be a doctor, and if I was I'd go in for being surgeon on board a ship."

"Why?" said Bob.

"So as to go all round the world, and see what there is to see."

"Ah!" said Bob, "I hadn't thought about that; but it isn't half so good as having a mine of your own, as you'll have some day. I wish we could change fathers, but I suppose we couldn't do that."

We did not argue out that question, but went on talking in a low prosy tone, as we sat there with our backs supported against the cliff; and I suppose it must have been Bob's low muttering voice, mingled with the darkness, the natural hour for sleep, and the murmuring of the waves, that had so curious and lulling an effect upon me, for all at once it seemed that the water was running down from the mine shaft where it was being pumped up, the big pump giving its peculiar beats as it worked, and the splash and rush of the water sounding very soft and clear.

Then I seemed to be down in the mine, and it was very dark and cold, and I climbed up again and sat down on the ground to listen to the washing of the water, the hurrying of the stream, and the regular beat of the pump; and then I was awake again, staring out into the darkness that hung over the sea. For a few minutes I was so confused that I could not make out where I was. It was cold and I was shivering, and the rushing of the water and the beat of the pump was going on still.

No, it was not; for I was up there on the shelf of rock miles away from our mine, and I had been set to keep watch with Bob Chowne; and here was he, close by me, breathing heavily, fast asleep.

I felt miserable and disgraced to think that I should have been so wanting in my sense of duty as to have slept, and Bob was no better.

"Bob! Bob!" I whispered, shaking him.

"Yes," he said with a start; "I know--I wasn't asleep."

"Hush! Listen!" I said. "What's that noise?"

We both listened, and my heart throbbed as I heard a regular plash and thud from off the sea.

"Boat," said Bob decidedly. "Shall I hail it?"

"No," I replied quickly.

"Why not? It's a boat coming to fetch us."

I could not think that it was, and creeping to where my father lay I shook him.

"Yes. Time to watch?" he said quietly.

"Hush! Listen!" I said.

He sat up:

"Boat," he said, "close in."

"Is it coming to fetch us, father?" I whispered.

"No, boy; if it were, those on board would hail."

"What shall we do--shout?" I asked him.

"Certainly not. Here, Bigley, sit up, my lad! All keep perfectly still and wait. We do not know whose boat it may be."

He was our leader, and we neither of us thought of saying a word, but sat and listened to the low plash and roll of the oars of some big boat that seemed to be very close in; and so it proved, for at the end of a few minutes we could distinctly see something large and black looming up out of the darkness, and before long make out that it was quite a large vessel that was being worked with sweeps or large oars till it was close in; and then there was the noise of the oars being laid inboard, and the sound of orders being given in a low firm voice.

"Keep perfectly still," my father whispered to us; but it was unnecessary, and we sat together there on the rock shelf, the projecting portion making our resting-place quite black, as we watched and listened to what was going on.

Then for about three hours there was a busy scene below us. Men seemed to have dropped down into the water from both sides of the vessel. Some went up to the cliff-face away to our left where the caverns lay, and at the end of a minute the light of a couple of lanthorns gleamed out and then disappeared in the cave.

Hardly a word was spoken save on board the vessel, where those upon deck seemed from time to time to be doing something with poles to keep her from getting aground as the tide fell.