Devon Boys Part 8

WE DINE WITH A SMUGGLER.

We three boys stood gazing down at our work with a feeling closely akin to awe, staring at the rushing stone cataract which kept throwing off ma.s.ses of grey foam which were great pieces of rock bouncing and leaping and bounding down as if delighted at being set free to move after being fixed to the earth since who could say when? No one spoke, no one moved till all was still below, and then, while I was wondering what my father would say, Bigley Uggleston suddenly made us start by tossing up his cap and shouting "Hooray!"

This roused Bob, who began to smile.

"I thought that would move it," he said coolly. "Why, what's the matter with you, Sep? Here, Big, look at him; he's quite white. Here's a game! He's frightened."

"No, I'm not," I said stoutly. "I was only thinking about what my father will say when he sees what we've done."

"Get out! Hark at him. One can't come down to the Gap now without old Sep Duncan dinning it into your ears about his father, and what he'll say, and all to show how proud he is, just because an old chap has bought a bit of land down by the sea. Why, what harm have we done?"

"Torn all that ragged place down the bottom of the cliff," I said dolefully. "It wasn't like that before."

"And what of it? Who's to know but what the stone tumbled down by itself? n.o.body heard."

We looked guiltily round, but the Gap was perfectly solemn and silent, the only thing suggesting life after the two cottages and the lugger being the vessels out at sea between us and the Welsh coast.

"But it seems such a pity!" I said ruefully. "I didn't think the stone would make so much of a mark coming down."

"There he goes again!" sneered Bob. "Afraid of spoiling his father's estate. Oh, arn't we proud of two sides of a hole and a water-gully!"

I had some reason for my remarks, for as I looked down there below us, where the great ma.s.s had struck so heavily, there appeared to be a smooth grey patch as if the surface had been sc.r.a.ped away.

"Hi! Look, look!" cried Bigley. "See the rabbits!" We looked, and could see at least a dozen little fellows that had been scared out of their holes, scuttling about among the stones, their white cottony tails showing quite plainly in the clear air. But these soon disappeared, and the others yielding to my desire to go down and see what mischief had really been done by the fall, we all began to slip and slide and stumble down the precipitous place, keeping as nearly as we could in the course taken by the stone, till we came upon the bare-looking spot.

It was just as it had struck me; the great rock we had sent down had started a number more, and they had literally sc.r.a.ped off all the loose surface pieces and earth, and scoured the valley slope for a s.p.a.ce of about three yards wide and fifty feet in depth down to the ancient rock.

Below this the valley grew less steep, and the stone slide had had less force, beginning after a time to leave fragments behind, so that the place seemed little changed, except here half-way up the slope.

"Tchah!" exclaimed Bob; "n.o.body will notice this, and if they saw it from down below they wouldn't take the trouble to climb up."

His words seemed full of truth, for it seemed to me that nothing but the sheep and rabbits was likely to come rambling and climbing up here; so, feeling more at my ease, I began to look about with the eyes of curiosity to see if there was anything to be found.

My companions followed my example, and we examined the places that had been scoured bare, to see that they were very much like the cliffs down by the sh.o.r.e, being evidently of the slate common there, a coa.r.s.e grey slate, stained with markings of lavender and scarlet pink, which, where it was freshly fractured, glistened in the sun like some portions of a wood-pigeon's breast.

There was nothing else to see, and my companions went on climbing down, while I lingered for a few minutes picking up a bit of broken stone here and another there, to throw them away again, all but one bit which looked dark and shiny, something like a bit of Welsh coal, only it wasn't coal, and that I put in my pocket.

"Come on!" shouted Bob; "we're going down to the sh.o.r.e."

I hurried after them, and we went lower and lower till we reached the little river, which ran glistening and rippling over the stones.

We had no tackle but our hands, and so the little trout that revelled in the clear water escaped that day; but we were obliged to stop at every swirling pool where the water grew deep and dark, to have a good stare at the little speckled beauties, and lay plots against their happiness.

These pauses took up a good deal of time, so that it was about one o'clock when we reached Uggleston's cottage, and, as it happened, just as its tenant was coming up from his boat, having just landed from some expedition along the coast.

He was not alone, for old Binnacle Bill, as we called him, was behind, carrying the oars and the mast with the little sail twisted round, so as to put them in Uggleston's lean-to shed.

As we drew nearer I began to wonder what sort of a reception we were going to receive from old Jonas Uggleston; and it struck me very forcibly then, how strange it seemed that he should be the father of my school-fellow, who was always well dressed, that is as school-boys are, while he was just like an ordinary fisherman of the coast, with rough flannel trousers rolled up, big fisherman's boots, blue worsted shirt, and an otter-skin cap, from beneath which his grisly hair stuck out in an untended ma.s.s, while his beard, that was more grisly still, half covered his dark-brown face.

He was a stern, fierce-looking man, with large dark eyes that seemed to ferret out everything one was thinking about, and as he came up he looked at us all searchingly in turn.

"Hallo, father! Been along the coast?" cried Bigley, striding up to him; and there was just a faint kind of smile on Jonas Uggleston's face as his son shook hands and then took his arm in a way that seemed to come like a surprise to me, for it seemed so curious that my school-fellow Bigley could like that fierce, common-looking man.

"Hallo, Big!" growled old Jonas grimly, "keeping your holidays then.

Who've you got here? Oh! It's you, young Chowne, is it? Ah! I was coming over to see your father 'bout my foot as I got twisted 'tween two bits o' rock--jumping; but it's got better now. Home from school?"

"Yes, sir; we came home yesterday," said Bob, staring hard at old Uggleston's mahogany hands.

"And who's this, eh? Oh, young Cap'n Duncan, eh?" continued the old fellow, turning to me as if he were not sure. "So you've come home from school, eh?"

"Yes, sir," I said; "I came with them yesterday."

"Well, I know that, don't I?" he said sharply. "Think folk as don't go to school don't know nothing, eh?"

"Oh, no, sir," I said apologetically.

"'Cause they do, you know. And so we must buy the Gap, must we, and get to be landlords, must we, and want to turn parties as has lived here twenty or thirty years or more out of their houses and homes, must we?

Now, look ye here, young gent, what I've got to say is--Bah! What a fool I am," he cried, smiting his open left hand with his fist. "What am I talking about? 'Tar'n't his fault."

I was standing aghast and wishing myself a long way off, when his whole manner changed and he patted me on the shoulder.

"'Tar'n't your fault, my lad, 'tar'n't your fault. So you've come home for the holidays, eh?"

"Yes, sir."

"Hah! Bigley, my big babby, often talks about you when he writes to me, lad. You're mates, eh?"

"Oh, yes," I said, finding his tone roughly kind now. "We sleep in the same room."

"Hah, yes! Well, and what have you chaps been about?"

"Oh, climbing about, and down by the stream, father," put in Bigley quickly.

"And you ar'n't hungry a bit, eh, lads? Well, I am," he said, without waiting for us to speak. "Let's go in and see what Mother Bonnet has got for us."

I was for hanging back, and so was Bob, who was jealous of the extra notice taken of me; but old Jonas Uggleston took hold of us both by the shoulders and marched us before him as if we were prisoners, and regularly pushed us in at the low door and into the low rustic-looking room, with its floor formed of big rough slabs of slate, and its whitewashed walls hung with all kinds of fishing gear and odds and ends, that looked very much as if they had come from different wrecks, so out of keeping were they with the plain, homely room, smelling strangely of sea-weed with a dash of fish.

"And I thought there'd be something ready to eat," said old Jonas.

"That's right, Big, put some chairs to the table, and come to an anchor all of you."

He smiled grimly as he thrust both Bob and me into chairs and then turned to his son.

"Take the big pitcher, boy, and fill it from the cider barrel. It's in the back place yonder. Good cider won't hurt boys. It's only like drinking apples 'stead o' chewing of 'em. I'm going to dip my hands.

Back directly."

He nodded and left the room with his son, leaving Bob and me staring at each other across the table.

"Don't it seem rum," he whispered, "having no table-cloth?"

I said it did, but then the table was beautifully clean, and so were the silver table-spoons, and the silver mug at the end where old Jonas sat.