In the Roar of the Sea Part 76

"No, I won't be spared," protested the boy.

"As for a wretched little hole like this Oth.e.l.lo Cottage----" said Scantlebray. "But, by the bye, you have never shown me over the house.

How many rooms are there in it, Generalissimo of His Majesty's Forces!"

"There's my bedroom there," said Jamie.

"Yes; and that door leads to your sister's?"

"Yes. And there's the kitchen."

"And up-stairs!"

"There's no up-stairs."

"Now, you are very clever--clever. By Ginger, you must be to be Commander-in-chief; but 'pon my word, I can't believe that. No up-stairs. There must be up-stairs."

"No, there's not."

"But by Jimminy! with such a roof as this house has got, and a little round window in the gable. There must be an up-stairs."

"No there's not."

"How do you make that out?"

"Because there are no stairs at all." Then Jamie jumped up, but rolled on one side, the brandy he had drunk had made him unsteady. "I'll show you mate--mate--yes, mate. There three times now will do for times I haven't said it. There--in my room. The floor is rolling; it won't stay steady. There are cramps in the wall, no stairs, and so you get up to where it all is."

"All what is?"

"Forfeit, forfeit!" shouted Jamie. "Say general or something military.

I don't know. Ju won't let me go up there; but there's tobacco, for one thing."

"Where's a candle, Corporal?"

"There is none. We have no light but the fire." Then Jamie dropped back on his stool, unable to keep his legs.

"I am more provident than you. I have a lantern outside, unlighted, as I thought I might need it on my return. The nights close in very fast and very dark now, eh, Commander?"

Mr. Scantlebray went outside the cottage, looked about him, specially directing his eyes toward the Glaze. Then he chuckled and said:

"Sent Miss Judith on a wild goose chase, have I? Ah ha! Captain Coppinger, I'll have a little entertainment for you to-night. The preventives will s.n.a.t.c.h your goods at Porth-leze or Constantine, and here--behind your back--I'll attend to your store of tobacco and whatever else I may find."

Then he returned and going to the fire extracted the candle from the lantern and lighted it at a burning log.

"Halloa, Captain of thousands! Going to sleep? There's the bottle. You must make up forfeits. You've been dishonest I fear and not paid half.

That door did you say?"

But Jamie was past understanding a question, and Mr. Scantlebray could find out for himself now what he wanted to know. That this house had been used by Coppinger as a store for some of the smuggled cargoes he had long suspected, but he had never been able to obtain any evidence which would justify the coast-guard in applying to the justices for a search-warrant. Now he would be able to look about it at his leisure, while Judith was absent. He did not suppose Coppinger was at the Glaze. He a.s.sumed that an attempt would be made, as the clerk of St.

Enodoc had informed him, to land the cargo of the Black Prince to the west of the estuary of the Camel, and he supposed that Coppinger would be there to superintend. He had used the letter sent to his brother to induce the girl to go to Pentyre, and so leave the cottage clear for him to search it.

Now, holding the candle, he entered the bedroom of Jamie, and soon perceived the cramps the boy had spoken of that served in place of stairs. Above was a door into the attic, whitewashed over, like the walls. Mr. Scantlebray climbed, thrust open the door and crept into the garret.

"Ah, ha!" said the valuer. "So, so, Captain! I have come on one of your lairs at last. And I reckon I will make it warm for you. But, by Ginger, it is a pity I can't remove some of what is here."

He prowled about in the roomy loft, searching every corner. There were a few small kegs of spirit, but the stores were mostly of tobacco.

In about ten minutes Mr. Scantlebray reappeared in the room where was Jamie. He was without his candle. The poor boy, overcome by what he had drunk, had fallen on the floor and was in a tipsy sleep.

Scantlebray went to him.

"Come along with me," he said. "Come, there is no time to be lost.

Come, you fool!"

He shook him, but Jamie would not be roused, he kicked and struck out with his fists.

"You won't come? I'll make you."

Then Scantlebray caught the boy by the shoulders to drag him to the door. The child began to struggle and resist.

"Oh! I'm not concerned for you, fool," said Scantlebray. "If you like to stay and take your chance--my brother will be here to carry you off presently. Will you come?"

Scantlebray caught the boy by the feet and tried to drag him, but Jamie clung to the table-legs.

Scantlebray uttered an oath--"Stay, you fool, and be smothered! The world will get on very well without you."

And he strode forth from the cottage.

CHAPTER LI.

SURRENDER.

Scantlebray was mistaken. Coppinger had not crossed the estuary of the Camel. He was at Pentyre Glaze awaiting the time when the tide suited for landing the cargo of the Black Prince. In the kitchen were a number of men having their supper and drinking, waiting also for the proper moment when to issue forth.

At the turn of the tide the Black Prince would approach in the gathering darkness and would come as near in as she dare venture. The wind had fallen, but the sea was running, and with the tide setting in she would approach the cove.

Judith hastened toward the Glaze. Darkness had set in, but in the north were auroral lights, first a great, white halo, then rays that shot up to the zenith, and then a mackerel sky of rosy light. The growl and mutter of the sea filled the air with threat like an angry mult.i.tude surging on with blood and destruction in their hearts.

The flicker overhead gave Judith light for her cause; the snow had melted except in ditches and under hedges, and there it glared red or white in response to the changing, luminous tinges of the heavens.

When she reached the house she at once entered the hall; there Coppinger was awaiting her. He knew she would come to him when her mind was made up on the alternatives he had offered her, and he believed he knew pretty surely which she would choose. It was because he expected her that he had not suffered the men collected for the work of the night to invade the hall.

"You are here," he said. He was seated by the fire; he looked up, but did not rise. "Almost too late."

"Almost, maybe, but not altogether," answered Judith. "And yet it seems unnecessary, as you have already acted without awaiting my decision."

"What makes you say that?"