 CHAPTER 10. PART 2. PART 2. The day was still young, and far below us was stretched the moving floor of the channel, with the silver-gray film of nightmares not yet lifted in the offing. A hummocky up and down line of cliffs, all projections, dense, bays and hollows, trended southward till it ended in the great bluff of St. Albin's head, ten miles away. The cliff face was gleaming white, the sea tawny and shore but pure as blue outside, with the straight sun-path across it, spangled and gleaming like a mackerel's back. The relief of being once more on firm ground, and the exultation of an escape from immediate danger, removed my pain and made me forget that my leg was broken. So I lay for a moment basking in the sun, and the wind, which a few minutes before threatened to blow me from that narrow ledge, seemed now but the gentlest of breezes, fresh with the breath of the kindly sea. But this was only for a moment, for the anguish came back and grew apace, and I felt a thinking dismally of the plight we were in. How things had been against us in these last days. First there was losing the why-not, and that was bad enough. Second there was the being known by the excise for smugglers, and perhaps for murderers. Third and last there was the breaking of my leg which made escapes so difficult. But most of all, there came before my eyes that gray face turned up against the morning sun, and I thought of all it meant for grace, and would have given my own life to call back that of our worst enemy. Then Elzevir sat up, stretching himself like one waking out of a sleep, and said, We must be gone, they will not be back for some time yet, and when they come will not think to search closely for us hereabouts. But that we cannot risk and must get clear away. This leg of thine will keep us tied for weeks, and we must find some place where we can lie hid, and tend it. Now I know such a hiding hole in Purbeck, which they call Joseph's pit, and thither we must go, but it will take all the day to get there, four to seven miles off, and I am older than I was, and thou too heavy a babe to carry over lightly. I did not know the pit he spoke of, but was glad to hear of some place, however far off, where I could lie still and get eased from the pain, and so he took me in his arms again, and started off across the fields. I need not tell of that weary journey, and indeed could not if I wished, for the pain went to my head and filled me with such a drowsy anguish that I knew nothing except when some unlooked-for movement gave me a sharper twinge and made me cry out. At first Elzevir walked briskly, but as the day wore on went slower, and was feign more than once to put me down in rest, till at last he could only carry me a hundred yards at a time. It was afternoon, for the sun was past the meridian, and very hot for the time of year, when the face of the country began to change, and instead of the short sword of the open down, sprinkled with tiny white snail shells, the ground was brashy with flat stones, and divided up into tillage fields. It was a bleak, wide-bidden place enough, looking as if it would never pay for turning, and instead of hedges there were dreary walls built of dry stone without mortar. Behind one of these walls, broken down in places, but held together with straggling ivy, and buttressed here and there with a bramble-bush, Elzevir put me down at length, and said, I am beat, and can carry thee no farther for this present, though there is not now much farther to go. We have passed per bet gates, and these walls will screen us from prying eyes, if any chance come or pass along the down. And as for the soldiers, they are not like to come this way so soon, and if they come, I cannot help it, for weariness and the sun's heat have made my feet like lead. A score of years ago I would have laughed at such a task, but now it is different, and I must take a little sleep and rest till the air is cooler. So sit thee here, and lean thy shoulder up against the wall, and thus thou canst look through this broken place, and watch both ways. Then if thou see ought moving, wake me up. I wish I had a thimble full of powder to make this whistle sound, and he took my skew's silver-budded pistol again from his bosom, and handled it lovingly. Tis like my evil luck to carry firearms thirty years, and leave them at home at a pinch like this. With that he flung himself down where there was a narrow shadow close against the bottom of the wall, and in a minute I knew from his heavy breathing that he was asleep. The wind had freshened much and was blowing strong from the west, and now that I was under the lee of the wall I began to perceive that drowsiness creeping upon me which overtakes a man who has been tousled for an hour or two by the wind, and gets at length into the shelter. Moreover, though I was not tired by grievous toil like Elzevir, I had passed a night without sleep, and felt besides the weariness of pain to lull me to slumber. So it was that before a quarter of an hour was passed, I had much to do to keep awake for all I knew that I was left on guard. Then I sought something to fix my thoughts, and looking on that side of the wall where the sword was, felt accounting the wall-hills that were cast up in numbers thereabout. And when I had exhausted them, and reckoned up thirty little heaps of dry and powdery brown earth that lay at random on the green turf, I turned my eyes to the tillage field on the other side of the wall, and saw the inch-high blades of corn coming up between the stones. Then I felt accounting the blades, feeling glad to have discovered a reckoning that would not be exhausted at thirty, but would go on for millions and millions and millions. And before I had reached ten in so heroic enumeration was fast asleep. A sharp noise woke me with a start that set the pain tingling in my leg, and though I could see nothing, I knew that a shot had been fired very near us. I was for waking Elsevier, but he was already full awake, and put a finger on his lip to show I should not speak. Then he crept a few paces down the wall to where an ivy bush overtopped it, enough for him to look through the leaves without being seen. He dropped down again with a look of relief and said, This but a lad scaring rooks with a blunderbuss. We will not stir unless he makes this way. A minute later he said, The boy is coming straight for the wall. We shall have to show ourselves. And while he spoke there was a rattle of falling stones, where the boy was partly climbing, and partly pulling down the dry wall, and so Elsevier stood up. The boy looked frightened, and made as if he would run off. But Elsevier passed him the time of day in a civil voice, and he stopped and gave it back. What are you doing here, son? Block asked. Scaring rooks for a farmer top was the answer. Have you got a charge of powder to spare, said Elsevier, showing his pistol? I want to get a rabbit in the gorse for supper, and have dropped my flask. Maybe you've seen a flask in walking through the furrows. He whispered to me to lie still, so that it might not be perceived my leg was broken, and the boy replied. No, I have seen no flask, but very like have not come the same way as you, being sent out here from Lower Moyne. And as for powder, I have little left, and must save that for the rooks, or shall get a beating for my pains. Come, said Elsevier, give me a charge or two, and there is half a crown for thee. And he took the coin out of his pocket, and showed it. The boy's eyes twinkled, and so would mine it so valuable a piece, and he took out from his pocket a battered cowskin flask. Give flask and all, said Elsevier, and thou shalt have a crown, and he showed him the larger coin. No time was wasted in words. Elsevier had the flask in his pocket, and the boy was biting the crown. What shot have you, said Elsevier? What? Have you dropped your shot, flask, too? asked the boy. And his voice had something of surprise in it. Nay, but my shot are over small. If thou'st has a slug or two, I would take them. I have a dozen goose slugs, number two, said the boy, but that must pay a shilling for them. My master says I never am to use them, except I see a swan or a buzzard, or something fit to cook come over. I shall get a sound beating for my pains, and to be beat is worth a shilling. If thou art beat, be beat for something more, said Elsevier the tempter. Give me that firelock that thou carryest, and take a guinea. Nay, I know not, said the boy. There are queer tales afloat at Lower Moyn, how that aposy met the contraband this morning, and shots were fired, and a gaiger got an overdose of lead, maybe of goose slugs, number two. The smugglers got off clear, but they said the hue and cry is up already, and that a head price will be fixed of twenty pound. So if I sell you a fouling-piece, maybe I shall do wrong, and have the government upon me as well as my master. The surprise in his voice was changed to suspicion, for while he spoke, I saw that his eye had fallen on my foot, though I tried to keep it in the shadow, and that he saw the boot clotted with blood, and the kerchief tied around my leg. "'Tis for that very reason,' says Elzevir, that I want the firelock. These smugglers are roaming loose, and a pistol is a poor thing to stop such wicked rascals on a lone hillside. Come, come, thou dost not want a piece to guard thee, they will not hurt a boy.' He had the guinea between his finger and thumb, and the gleam of the gold was too strong to be withstood. So we gained a sorry matchlock, slugs, and powder, and the boy walked off over the furrow, whistling with his hand in his pocket, and a guinea and a crown-piece in his hand. His whistle sounded innocent enough, yet I mistrusted him, having caught his eye while he was looking at my bloody foot, and so I said as much to Elzevir, who only laughed, saying the boy was simple and harmless. But from where I sat I could peep out through the brambles in the open gap, and see without being seen, and there was my young gentleman walking carelessly enough, and whistling like any bird so long as Elzevir's head was above the wall. But when Elzevir sat down, the boy gave a careful look round, and seeing no one watching any more, dropped his whistling, and made off as fast as his heels would carry him. Then I knew that he had guessed who we were, and was off to warn the hue and cry. But before Elzevir was on his feet again, the boy was out of sight, over the hillbrow. "'Let us move on,' said Block, to his but a little distance now to go, and the heat is passed already. We must have slept three hours or more, for thou art but of sorry watchmen, John, to his when the century sleeps that the enemy laughs, and for thee the posse might have had us both, like daylight owls.' With that he took me on his back, and made off with the lusty stride, keeping as much as possible under the brow of the hill, and in the shelter of the walls. We had slept longer than we thought, for the sun was westering fast, and though the rest had refreshed me, my leg had grown stiff, and hurt the more in dangling when we started again. Elzevir was still walking strongly, in spite of the heavy burden he carried, and in less than half an hour I knew, though I had never been there before, we were in the land of the old marble quarries at the back of Anvil Point. Although I knew little of these quarries, and certainly was an evil plight to take note of anything at that time, yet afterwards I learnt much about them. Out of such excavations comes that black, per-beck marble which you see in old churches in our country, and I am told in other parts of England as well, and the way of making a marble quarry is to sink a tunnel, slanting very steeply down into the earth, like a well turned askew, till you reach fifty, seventy, or perhaps one hundred feet deep. Then, from the bottom of this shaft there spread out narrow passages or tunnels, mostly six feet high, but sometimes only three or four, and in these the marble is dug. These quarries were made by men centuries ago, some say by the Romans themselves, and though some are still worked in other parts of per-beck, those at the back of Anvil Point have been disused beyond the memory of man. We had left the stony village fields, and the face of the country was covered once more with the closest sword, which was just putting on the brighter green of spring. This turf was not smooth, but hummocky, for under it lay heaps of worthless stone, and marble drawn out of the quarries ages ago, which the green vestment had covered for the most part, though it left sometimes a little patch of broken ruffle peering out at the top of the mound. There were many tumbled down walls, and though gables left at the cottages of the old quarrymen. Graphs covered ridges marked out the little garden folds, and here and there still stood a forlorn gooseberry bush, or a stunted plum, or apple tree, with its branches all swept eastward by the up-channel gales. As for the quarry shafts themselves, they too were covered around the tips with the green turf, and down them led a narrow flight of steep cut steps, with a slide of soapstone at the side, on which the marble blocks were once hauled up by wooden winches. Down these steps no feet ever walked now, for not only were suffocating gases said to beset the bottom of these shafts, but man would have it that in the narrow passages below lurked evil spirits and demons. One who ought to know about such things told me that when St. Aldhelm first came to Purbeck, he bound the old pagan gods under a band deep in these passages, but that the worst of all the crew was a certain demon called the man-drive who walked over the best of the black marble. And that was why such marble might only be used in churches or for graves, for if it were not for this holy purpose, the man-drive would have power to strangle the man that hewed it. It was by the side of one of these old shafts that Elsevier laid me down at last. The light was very low, showing all the little unevenness of the turf, and the sword crept over the edges of the hole, and every crack and crevice in steps and slide was green with ferns. The green ferns shrouded the walls of the hole, and ruddy brown brambles overgrew the steps, till all was lost in the gloom that hung at the bottom of the pit. Elsevier drew a deep breath or two of the cool evening air, like a man who has come through a difficult trial. There, he said, this is Joseph's pit, and here we must lie hid until thy foot is sound again. Once get to the bottom safe, and we can laugh at posse and hewn cry, and at the king's crown itself. They cannot search all the quarries and are not like to search any of them, for they are cowards at the best, and hang much on tales of the man-drive. I, and such tales are true enough, for there lurk gases at the bottom of most of the shafts, like devils to strangle any that go down. And if they do come down this Joseph's pit, we still have nineteen chances in a score, they cannot thread the workings. But last, if they come down, and thread the path, there is his pistol, and a rusty matchlock, and before they come to where we lie, we can hold the troupe at bay, and sell our lives so dear they will not care to buy them. We waited a few minutes, and then he took me in his arms, and began to descend the steps. Back first, as one goes down a hatchway. The sun was setting in a heavy bank of clouds, just as we began to go down, and I could not help remembering how I has seen it set over peaceful moonfleet only twenty-four hours ago, and how far off we were now, and how long it was likely to be before I saw that deer village and grace again. The stairs were still sharp cut, and little worn, but Elzevir paid great care to his feet, lest he should slip on the ferns and mosses with which they were overgrown. When we reached the brambles, he met them with his back, and though I heard the thorns tearing his coat, he shoved them aside with his broad shoulders, and screened my dangling leg from getting caught. Thus he came safe without stumble to the bottom of the pit. When we got there, all was dark, but he stepped off into a narrow opening on the right hand, and walked on as if he knew the way. I could see nothing but perceive that we were passing through endless galleries cut in the solid rock, high enough, for the most part, to allow of walking upright, but sometimes so low as to force him to bend down, and carry me in a very constrained attitude. Only twice did he set me down at a turning while he took out his tinderbox and let a match, but at length the darkness became less dark, and I saw that we were in a large cave, or room, into which the light came through some opening at the far end. At the same time I felt a colder breath and fresh salt smell in the air that told me we were very near the sea. The dull loneness, the black shade, that these hanging vaults have made, the strange music of the waves beating on these hollow caves, wither. He set me down in one corner where was some loose, dry silver sand upon the floor, which others had perhaps used for a resting place before. I must lie here for a month or two, lad, he said. It is a mean bed, but I have no many worse, and we'll get straw tomorrow if I can to better it. I had eaten nothing all day, nor had Elsevier, yet I felt no hunger, only a giddiness and burning thirst, like that which came upon me when I was shut in the Mahoon vault. So it was very music to me to hear a pat and splash of water dropping from the roof into a little pool upon the floor, and Elsevier made a cup out of my hat, and gave a full drink of it that was icy cool and more delicious than any smuggled wine of France. And after that I knew little that happened for ten days or more, for fever had hold of me, and as I learnt afterwards I talked wild and could scarce be restrained from jumping up and loosing the bindings that Elsevier had put upon my leg. And all that time he nursed me as tenderly as any mother could her child, and never left the cave except when he was forced to seek food. But after the fever passed it left me very thin as I could see from hands and arms and weaker than a baby, and I used to lie the whole day not thinking much nor troubling about anything, but eating what was given me and drawing a quiet pleasure from the knowledge that strength was gradually returning. Elsevier had found a battered sea-chest up on Peverell Point, and from the side of it made splints to set my leg using his own shirt for bandages. The sand bed, too, was made more soft and easy with some armfuls of straw, and in one corner of the cave was a little pile of driftwood and an iron cooking pot. And all these things that Elsevier got by foraging of nights, using great care that none should see him, and taking only what would not be much missed or thought about. But soon he contrived to give Ratsey word of where we were, and after that the sexton fended for us. Though none even of the landers knew what was become of us save only Ratsey, and he never came down the quarry, but would leave what he brought in one of the ruined cottages a half mile from the shaft. And all the while there was strict search being made for us, and mounted excisemen scarring the country, for though at first the posse took back Mascu's dead body and said we must have fallen over the cliff, for there was nothing to be found of us, yet afterwards a farm boy brought a tale of how he had come suddenly on men lurking under a wall, and how one had a bloody foot and leg, and how the other sprung upon him, and after a fierce struggle wrenched his master's rook-piece from his hands, rifled his pocket of a powder-horn, and made off with them like a hair towards cough. And as to Mascu, some of the soldiers said that Elsevier had shot him, and others that he died by misadventure being killed by a stray bullet of one of his own men on the hilltop. But for all that they put a head-price on Elsevier of fifty and twenty for me, so we had reason to lie close. It must have been Mascu that listened that night at the door when Elsevier told me the hour at which the cargo was to be run, for the posse had been ordered to be at whorehead at four in the morning. So all the gang would have been taken had it not been for the galdar making earlier, and the soldiers being delayed by tippling at the lobster. All this Elsevier learnt from Ratsey, and told me to pass the time, though in truth I had his leaf not heard it, but it is no pleasant thing to see one's head wrote down so low as twenty. And what I wanted most to know, namely how Grace fared, and how she took the bad news of her father's death, I could not hear, for Elsevier said nothing, and I was shy to ask him. Now when I came in toilet to myself and was able to take stock of things, I found that the place in which I lay was a cave some eight-yard square and three in height, whose straight cut walls showed that men had once hewn stone therefrom. On one side was that passage through which we had come in, and on the other opened a sort of door which gave onto a stone ledge eight fathoms above high watermark, for the cave was cut out just inside that iron cliff face which lies between St Albans head and swanage. But the cliffs here are different from those on the other side of the head being neither so high as whorehead nor of chalk, but standing for the most part only a hundred or a hundred and fifty feet above the sea, and showing towards it a stern face of solid rock. But though they rise not so high above the water, they go down a long way below it, so that there is fifty fathom right up to the cliff, and many a good craft out of reckoning and fog or on a pitch-dark night has run full against that frowning wall and perished ship and crew without a soul to hear their cries. Yet though the rock looks hard as adamant the eternal washing of the wave has worn it out below, and even with the slightest swell there is a dull and distant booming of the surge in those cavernous deeps, and when the wind blows fresh each roller smites the cliff like a thunder-clap till even the living rock trembles again. It was on a ledge of that rock face that our cave opened, and sometimes on a fine day Elsevier would carry me out thither, so that I might sun myself and see all the moving channel without myself being seen. For this ledge was carved out something like a balcony, so that when the quarry was in working they could lure the stone by pulleys to boats lying underneath, and perhaps haul up a keg or two by the way of ballast, as might be guessed by the stanchions still rusting in the rock. Such was this gallery, and as for the inside of the cave it was a great empty room, with a white floor made up a broken stone dust trodden hard of old till one would say it was plaster, and dry without those sweaty damps so often seen in such places. Save only in one corner a land spring dropped from the roof trickling down over spiky rock icicles and falling into a little hollow in the floor. This basin had been scooped out of set purpose, with a gutter seaward for the overflow, and round it, and on the wet patch of the roof above grew a garden of ferns and other clinging plants. The weeks moved on until we were in the middle of May, when even the nights were no longer cold as the sun gathered power. And with the warmer days my strength too increased, and though I dared not yet stand my leg had ceased to pain me, except for some sharp twingies now and then, which Elvazir said were caused by the bone setting. And then he would put a poultice made of grass upon the place, and once walked almost as far as children to pluck sorrel for a soothing mash. Now there he had gone out and in so many times in safety, yet I was always ill at ease when he was away, lest he might fall into some ambush and never come back. Nor was it any thought of what would come to me if he were caught that grieved me, but only care for him. For I had come to lean in everything upon this grim and grizzled giant, and love him like a father. So when he was away I took to reading to begar my thoughts, but found little choice of matter having only in my aunt's red prayer-book that I thrust into my bosom the afternoon that I left moon-fleet, and black-peards lock it. For that locket hung always round my neck, and I often had the parchment out and read it, not that I did not know it now by heart, but because reading it seemed to bring grace to my thoughts. For the last time I had read it was when I saw her in the manner woods. Elsevier and I had often talked over what was to be done when my leg should be sound again, and resolved to take passage to Saint Marlowe in the Bonaventure, and there lie hid till the pursuit against us should have ceased. For though it was wartime, French and English were as brothers in the contraband, and the shippers would give us bit and sup and glad to, as long as we had need of them. But of this I need not say more, because it was but a project, which other events came in to overturn. It was this very errand, namely to fix with the Bonaventure's men the time to take us over to the other side, that Elsevier had gone out, on the day of which I shall now speak. He was to go to pool, and left our cave in the afternoon, thinking it safe to keep along the cliff-edge even in the daylight, and to strike across country when dusk came on. The wind had blown fresh all the morning from south-west, and after Elsevier had left, strengthened to a gale. My leg was now so strong that I could walk across the cave with the help of a stout black-thorn that Elsevier had cut me, and so I went out that afternoon onto the ledge to watch the growing sea. There I sat down with my back against to protecting rock, in such a place that I could see up-channel, and yet shelter from the rushing wind. The sky was overcast, and the long wall of rock showed grey with orange-brown patches, and a darker line of seaweed at the base, like the understreak of a broaked spelly, for the tide was but beginning to make. There was a mist, half fog, half spray, scutting before the wind, and through it I could see the white-backed rollers lifting over peverell point, while all on the cliff-face the seabirds thronged the ledges, and sat huddled in snowy lines, knowing the mischief that was brewing in the elements. It was a melancholy scene, and bred melancholy in my heart, and about sundown the wind south to point or two, setting the sea more against the cliff, so that the spray began to fly even over my ledge, and drove me back into the cave. The night came on much sooner than usual, and before long I was lying on my straw bed in perfect darkness. The wind had gone still more to south, and was screaming through the opening of the cave. The caverns down below bellowed and rumbled. Every now and then a giant roller struck the rock such a blow as to make the cave tremble, and in a second later there would falls splashing on the ledge outside the heavy spray that had been lifted by the impact. I have said that I was melancholy, but worse followed for I grew timid and fearful of the wild night and the loneliness and the darkness, and all sorts of evil tales came to my mind, and I thought much of baleful heathen gods that St. Aldum had banished to these underground cellars, and of the man-drive who leapt on people in the dark and strangled them, and then fancy played another trick on me, and I seemed to see a man lying on the cave floor with a drawn white face upturned and a red hole in the forehead, and at last could bear the dark no longer, but got up with my lame leg and groped round till I found a candle, for we had but two or three in store. It was only with much ado I got it lit and set up in the corner of the cave, and then I sat down close by trying to screen it with my coat. But do what I would, the wind came gusting round the corner, blowing the flame to one side, and making the candle gutter as another candle guttered on that black day at the why-not. And so thought whisked round till I saw Masku's face wearing a look of evil triumph when the pin fell at the auction, and again his face grew deadly pale, and there was the bullet mark on his brow. Surely there were evil spirits in this place to leave my thoughts so much astray, and then came to my mind that locket on my neck, which men had once hung round blackbeards to scare evil spirits from his tomb. If you could frighten them from him, might it not rout them now and make them fly from me? And with that thought I took the parchment out and opened it before the flickering light, although I knew all, word for word, conned it over again, and read it out aloud. It was a relief to hear a human voice, even though it was nothing but my own, and I took to shouting the words, having much ado even so to make them heard for the raging of the storm. The days of our age are three score years and ten, and though men be so strong that they come to forescore years, yet it is their strength then but labour and sorrow. So soon passeth it away, and we are gone. And as for me, my feet were almost— At the almost I stopped, being brought up suddenly with a fierce beat of blood through my veins and a jump fit to burst them, for I had heard a scuffling noise in the passage that led to the cave as if someone had stumbled against a loose stone in the dark. I did not know then, but have learned since, that when there is a loud noise, such as the roaring of a cascade, the churning of a mill, or as here the rage and bluster of a storm, if there arise some different sound, even though it be as slight as the whistle of a bird, it will strike the ear clear above the general din. And so it was this night, for I caught that stumbling trade, even when the gale blew loudest, and sat motionless and breathless in my eagerness of listening, and then the gale lulled an instant, and I heard the slow beat of footsteps as of one grouping his way down the passage in the dark. I knew it was not Elsevier. For first he could not be back from Poole for many hours yet, and second he was whistled in a certain way to show T'was he coming, and gave besides a password. Yet if not Elsevier, who could it be? I blew out the light, for I did not want to guide the aim of some unknown marksman shooting at me from the dark, and then I thought of that gaunt strangler that sprang on marble workers in the gloom. Yet he could not be the man-drive, for surely he would know his own passage is better than to stumble in them in the dark. It was more likely to be one of the hue and cry who had smelt us out and hoped perhaps to be able to reconnoitre without being perceived on so awful a night. Whenever Elsevier went out foraging, he carried with him that silver-butted pistol which had once been masques, but left behind the old rook-piece. We had plenty of powder and slugs now, having obtained a store of both from Ratsy, and Elsevier had made me keep the matchlock charged and use it or not, after my own judgment, if any came to the cave. But gave us his counsel that it was better to die fighting than to swing at Dorchester, for that we should most certainly do, if taken. We had agreed moreover on a poor password which was Prosper the Bonadventure, so that I might challenge betimes any that I heard coming, and if they gave not back this counter-sign, might know it was not Elsevier. So now I reached out for the piece which lay beside me on the floor and scrambled to my feet, lifting the deckle in the darkness and feeling with my fingers in the pan to see it was full of powder. The lull in the storm still lasted, and I heard the footsteps advancing, though with uncertain slowness, and once after a heavy stumble I thought I caught a muttered oath, as if someone had struck his foot against a stone. Then I shouted out clear in the darkness a, Who goes there? that rang again through the stone roofs. The footsteps stopped. There was no answer. Who goes there? I repeated answer, or I far. Prosper the Bonadventure came back out of the darkness, and I knew that I was safe. The devil take thee for a hot-blooded young bantam to shoot thy best friend with powder and ball that he was full enough to give thee, and by this time I guessed, to his master Ratsy, and recognized his voice. I would have let thee hear soon enough that twas I, if I'd known I was so near thy lair, but it is more than a man's life is worth to creep down mole-holes in the dark and on a night like this, and why I could not get out the gibberish about the Bonadventure sooner, it was because I matched my shin to break a stone and lost the wager and my breath together, and why my wind returned to his very light that I was trapped into an oath, which is sad enough for me, who am sexton, and so to say in small orders of the Church of England, as by law established. By the time I put down the gun and coaxed the candle again to light, Ratsy stepped into the cave. He wore a sour wester, and was dripping with wet, but seemed glad to see me and shook me by the hand. He was welcome enough to me also, for he banished the dreadful loneliness, and his coming was a bit out of my old, pleasant life that lay so far away, and seemed to bring me once more, within reach of some the pardearest. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. How he lies in his rites of a man. Death has done all death can. Browning. We stood for a moment holding one another's hands. Then Ratsy spoke. John, these two months have changed thee from boy to man. I was a child when I turned that morning as we went up whorehead with the pack-horses, and looked back on thee and Elsevier below, and masculine lying on the ground. It was a sorry business, and has broken up the finest gang that ever rang a cargo, besides driving thee and Elsevier to hiding caves and dens of the earth. I should have come with us that morning, not have stayed behind. The work was too rough for boys, the skipper should have piped the reefing-hands. It was true enough, or seemed to me true then, for I felt much cast down. But only said, Nay, Master Ratsy, where Master Block stays, there I must stay too, and where he goes, I follow. Then I sat down upon the bed in the corner, feeling my leg began to ache, and the storm, which had lalled for a few minutes, came up again all the fiercer, with wild gusts and shaves of spray and rain driving into the cave from Seawood. So I was scarce sat down, when in came a roaring blast, filling even our corner with cold, wet air that quenched the weakling candle-flame. God save us, what a night! Ratsy cried. God save poor souls at sea, said I. Amen to that, says he. And with that every amen I have said had come as truly from my heart. There'll be sea enough on Moonfleet Beach this night to lift a schooner to the top of it, and I'll be sure to see it again. And launch her down into the fields behind. I had as leaf be in the marhewn vultures in this fearsome place, and leave her too if half the tales men tell are true of faces that may meet one here. For God save let us light a fire, for I caught sight of a store of driftwood before that sickly candle went out. It was some time before we got a fire alight, and even after the flame had caught well-hold, the rush of the wind would every now and again blow the smoke into our eyes, or send a char of sparks dancing through the cave. But by degrees the logs began to glow clear white, and such a cheerful warmth came out, as was in itself a solace and remedy for man's afflictions. Ah, said Redsey, I has shrammed with wet and cold and half dead with this baffling wind. It is a blessed thing of fire. And he unbuttoned his pilot coat. And needful now, if ever! My soul is very low lad, and this place has strange memories for me. And I recollect forty years ago, when I was a boy just like the old land of Jordan's gang, and I among them were in this very cave on such another night. I was new to the trade then, as thou might be, and could not sleep for noise of wind and sea. And in the small hours of an autumn morning, as I lay here, just where we lie now, I heard such wailing cries above the storm, hey, and such shrieks of women has made my blood wrung cold, and have not yet forgot them. And so I woke the gang, who were all deep asleep as seasoned contrabandiers should be. But there we knew that there were fellow creatures fighting for their lives in the seething flood beneath us. We could not stir hand or foot to save them, for nothing could be seen for rain and spray, and was not till next morning that we learned the Florida had founded just below, with every soul on board. Aye, it is a queer life, and you are a blocker and a queer straight now, and that is what I came to tell you. See here, and he took out of his pocket an oblong strip of printed paper. G. R. Whitehall, 15 May 1758. Where earth it hath been humbly represented to the king that on Friday the night of the 16th of April last, Thomas Maskew, adjusted to the peace, was most inhumanly murdered at Hawthead, a lone place in the Paris of Children and the County of Dorset, by one Elsevier Block and one John Trenchard, both of the parish of Moonfleet in the aforesaid county. His Majesty, for the better discovering and bringing to justice these persons, is pleased to promise his most gracious pardon to any of the persons concerned therein, except the persons who actually committed the said murder. And as a further encouragement, a reward of fifty pounds to any person who shall furnish such information as shall lead to the apprehension of the said Elsevier Block, and a reward of twenty pounds to any person who shall furnish such information as shall lead to the apprehension of the said John Trenchard. Such information to be given to me or to the Governor of his Majesty's jail in Dorchester. Hold this. There, that's the bill, he said, and a vastly fine piece it is, yet I wish that it was played with other actors. Now, in Moonfleet there is none that know your hiding-place, and not a man nor woman either that would tell if they knew it ten times over. But fifty pounds for Elsevier, and twenty pounds for an empty pumpkin top like thine, is a fair round sum, and there are vagabonds about this countryside scurvy enough to try to earn it. And some of these have set the excise men on my track, with tales of how it is that I know where you lie hid, and bring you meat and drink. So it is that I cannot stir abroad now, no, not even to the Church of Sundays, without having some rogue lurking at my heels to watch my movements. And that is why I chose such a night to come hither, knowing these knaves like dry skins, but never thinking that the wind would blow like this. I have come to tell Block that it is not safe for me to be so much in perfect, and that I dare no longer bring food, or what not, or these manhounds will sent you out. Your leg is sound again, and it is best to be flitting while you may, and there is the upper and door and chauvelet to give you welcome on the other side. I told him how Elsevier was gone this very night to pool, to settle with the Bonaventure, when she should come to take us off. And at that, rats he seemed pleased. There were many things I wished to learn of him, and especially how Grace did, but felt a shyness, and durst not ask him. And he said no more for a minute, seeming low-hearted and crunching over the far. So we sat, huddled in the corner by the glowing logs, the red light flickering on the cave-roof, and showing the lines on rats' face, while the steam rose from his drying clothes. The gale blew as fiercely as ever, but the tide had fallen, and there was not so much spray coming into the cave. Then rats he spoke again. My heart is very heavy, John, tonight, to think how all the good old times are gone, and how that master-block can never again go back to Moonfleet. It was as fine a land as crew has ever stood together, not even accepting Captain Jordan's, and now must all be broken up. For this mess of masquures has made the place too hot to hold us, and to a be many a long day before another cargo is run on Moonfleet Beach. But how to get the liquor out of Mochun's vault, I know not. And that reminds me, I've something in my pouches for Elsevier and thee. And with that he drew forth from either little appell a great wicker-bound flask. He put one to his lips, tilting it and drinking long and deep, and then passed it to me with a sigh of satisfaction. Ah, that is a right smack. Here, take it, John, a moment I heart. It is the true milk of Ararat, and the last I'll taste this side of the channel. Then I drank, too, but lightly, for the good liquor was no stranger to me. There was only so few months ago that I tasted it for the first time in the why not, and in a minute it tingled in my fingertips. Soon a grateful sense of warmth and comfort stole over me, and our state seemed not so desperate, or even the night so wild. Ratsy, too, wore a more cheerful air, and the lines in his face were not so deeply marked. The golden, sparkling influence of the flask had loosed his tongue, and he was talking now of what I most wanted to hear. Yes, yes, it is a sad breakup, and what will happen to the old why not? I cannot tell. None have passed the threshold since you left. Only the Dutchmen came and sealed the doors, making it felony to force them. And even these lawyer-chaps know not where the right stands. Van Maske never paid a rent, and died before he took possession. Her master-block's term is long expired, and now he is in hiding, and an outlaw. But I am sorry as for Maske's girl, who grows thin and pale as any lily. For when the soldiers brought the body back, the men stood at their doors and cursed the clay, and some of the fish-wives spattered it. An old mother-veach, who kept house for him, swore he had never paid her a penny of wages, and that she was a fear to stop under the same roof from such an evil corpse. So she actually goes from the manor-house, leaving that poor child alone in it with her dead father. And they were not wanting some to say it was all a judgment, and called to mind how Elsevier had been once left alone with his dead son at the why-not. But in the village there was not a man that doubted that Twos Block had sent Maske to his account, nor did I doubt it either. Did a tale go abroad that he was killed by a stray shot fired by the posse from the cliff? And when they took the human cry-papers to the manor-house for his last, as next of kin, to sign the requisition, she would not set her name to it, saying that Block had never lifted his hand against her father when they met at Moonfleet or on the road, and that she never would believe he was the man to let his anger sleep so long, and then attack an enemy in cold blood. And as for thee, she knew thee for a trusty lad, who would not do such things himself, nor yet stand by whilst others did them. Now, what Bratsy said was sweeter than any music in my ears, and I felt myself a better man, as any one must of whom a true woman speaks well, and that I must live uprightly to deserve such praise. Then I resolved that, come what might, I would make my way once more to Moonfleet before we fled from England and sea-grace, so that I might tell her all that happened about her father's death, saving her that Elsevier had meant himself to put Masky away. But it was no use to tell her this when she had said that he could never think to do such a thing. And besides, for all I knew he never did mean to shoot, but only to frighten him. Though I thus resolved I said nothing of it to Master Bratsy, but only nodded, and he went on. Well, seeing as there was no one to save this poor girl to look to putting Masky underground, I misnaced taking in hand myself, roughing together a sound coffin and digging as fair a grave for him as it could be made for any Lord, except that Lords have always vaults to sleep in. Then I got Mother Nutting's fish-cart to carry the body down, for there was not a man in Moonfleet who would lay hand to the coffin to bear it. And off we started down the street, eye-leading the wall-eyed pony and the coffin following on the trolley. There was no mourner to see him home except his daughter, and she without a bit of black upon her, for she had no time to get her crepes. And yet she needed none, having grief writ plain enough upon her face. When we got to the churchyard her crowd was gathered there men and women and children, not only from Moonfleet, but from Rigstave and Monkbury. They were not come to mourn, but to make jibes to show how much they hated him, and many of the children had old pots and pans for rough music. Pass and Glenny was waiting in the church, and there he waited, for the cart could not pass the gate, and we had no bearers to lift the coffin. Then I looked round to see if there was any that would help to lift, but when I tried to meet a man's eye he looked away, and all I could see was the bitter, scowling faces of the women. And all the while the girl stood by the trolley looking on the ground. She had a little kerchief over her head that let the hair fall about her shoulders, and her face was very white, with eyes red and swollen through weeping. But when she knew that all that crowd was there to mock her father, and that there was not a man would raise hand to lift him, she laid her head upon the coffin, hiding her face in her hands, and sobbed bitterly. Ratsy stopped for a moment, and drank again deep at the flask. And as for me, I still said nothing, feeling a great lump in my throat, and reflecting how hatred and passion have power to turn men to brutes. I'm a rough man, Ratsy resumed, but tender light with all, and when I saw a weep, I ran off to the church to tell the person how it was, and beg him to come out, and try a week too could lift the coffin. So he came just as he was, with surplus on his back and book in hand. But when the men knew what he was come for, and looked upon that tall, fair girl bowed down over her father's coffin, their hearts were moved. And first Tom Tewkesbury stepped out with a sheepish air, and then Garratton, then four others. So now we had six fine bearers, and was only women that could still look hard and scowling, and even they said no word, and not a boy beat on his pan. Then Mr. Lenny, seeing he was not wanted for bearer, changed to passon, and strikes up with, I am the resurrection and the life. It is a great text, John, and though I've heard its scores and scores of times, it never sounded sweeter than on that day. It was a fine afternoon, and what were there being no wind, but the sun bright and the sea still and blue? There was a calm on everything that seemed to say, rest in peace, rest in peace. And whilst on the spring with us, and the whole land preaching of resurrection, the birds singing, trees and flowers waking from their winter sleep, and cow slips yellow on the very graves. Then surely it is a fond thing to push our enmities beyond the grave, and perhaps even he was not so bad as we held him, but might have tricked himself into thinking he did right to hunt down the contraband. I know not how it was, but something like this came into my mind, and did perhaps to others, for we got him under, without a sign or word from any that stood there. There was not one sound heard inside the church or out, except Mr. Lenny's reading of my amends, and now and then a sob from the poor child. But when it was all over, and the coffins safe lowered, up she walks to Tom Tewkes' be say, through her tears. I thank you, sir, for your kindness, and holds out her hand. So he took it, looking askew and afterwards the five other bearers, and then she walked away by herself, and no one moved till she had left the churchyard gate, letting her pass out like a queen. On so she is a queen, I said, not being able to keep from speaking, for very pride to hear how she had borne herself, and because she had always shown kindness to me. So she is, and fairer than any queen to boot. CHAPTER XII RATSY gave me a questioning look, and I could see a little smile upon his face in the firelight. I, she's fair enough, said he, as they reflected to himself, but white and thin. Maybe she would make a match for thee, if ye were man and woman, and not boy and girl, if she were not rich and thou not poor and an outlaw, and if she would have thee. It vexed me to hear his banter, and to think how I had let my secret out. So I did not answer, and we sat by the embers for a while without speaking, while the wind still blew through the cave like a funnel. Ratsy spoke first. John passed me the flask, and I can hear voices mounting the cliffs of those poor souls of the Florida. With that he took another heavy pull and flung a log on the fire, till sparks flew about as in a smithy, and the flame that had slumbered woke again and leapt out white, blue, and green from the salt wood. Now, as the light danced and flickered, I saw a piece of parchment lying at Ratsy's feet, and this was none other than the writing out of Blackbeard's Locket, which I had been reading when I first heard footsteps in the passage and had dropped in my alarm of hostile visitors. Ratsy saw it, too, and stretched out his hand to pick it up. I would have concealed it if I could, because I had never told him how I had rifled Blackbeard's coffin, and did not want it to be questioned as to how I had come by the writing. But to try him stopping to get hold of it would only have spurred his curiosity, and so I said nothing when he took it in his hands. What is this, son? asked he. It's only scripture verses, I answered, which I got some time ago. It is said they are a spell against spirits of evil, and I was reading them to keep off the loneliness of this place, when you came in and made me drop them. I was afraid, lest he would ask whence I had got them. But he did not, thinking perhaps that my aunt had given them to me. The heat of the flames had curled the parchment a little, and he spread it out on his knee, conning it in the fire-light. It is well written, he said, and good verses enough. But he who put them together for a spell knew little how to keep off evil spirits, for this would not keep a flea from a black cat. I could do ten times better myself, being not without some little understanding of such things. And he nodded seriously. And though I never yet met any from the other world, they would not take me unprepared if they should come. For I have spent half my life in graveyard or church, and to be as foolish to move about such places and have no words to meet an evil visitor with all, has to bear money on a lonely road without a pistol. So one day, after a pass and Lenny had preached from Habakkuk, how that the vision is for an appointed time, but at the end it shall speak and not lie, though it tarry, wait for it, because it will surely come, it will not tarry. I talked with him on these matters, and got from him three or four rousing texts, such as specters fear more than a burned child does the fire. I'll learn them all to thee some day, but for the moment, take this Latin which I got by art. Habite ame in ignem etemum quiparatus est diabolo et angeles aeus. English it means, depart from me into eternal fire, prepared for the devil and his angels, but hath at least doubled that power in Latin. So they got that after me by heart, and used it freely with art led to think that there are evil presences near, and in such lonely places as this cave. I humoured him by doing as he desired, and that the rather because I hoped his thoughts would thus be turned away from the writing. But as soon as I had the spell by rote, he turned back to the parchment, saying, He was a but a poor divine who wrote this, for beside choosing ill-fitting verses, he cannot even give right numbers to them. For see here, the days of our age are three score years and ten, and though men be so strong that they come to four score years, it is this their strength, then, but labour and sorrow, so soon paths it away, and we are gone. And he writes, Psalm 90, 21 Now I have said that, Psalm, with parson verse and verse about, for every sleeper we have laid to rest in church our mould for thirty years. And no, it had not but twenty verses in it all told, and this same verse is the Clark's verse, and come with the tenth, and yet he calls it twenty first. I wish I had a common prayer, and I could prove my words. He stopped, and flung me back the parchment scornfully, but I folded it, and slipped it into my pocket, booting it all the while, over a strange thought that his last words had brought to me. Nor did I tell him that I had by me my aunt's prayer-book, wishing to examine for myself more closely whether he was right, after he should have gone. I must be away, he said at last, though low to leave this good far and liquor, I would fame why till El Zavir was back, and fame as till his gaol was spent, but it may not be, the nights are short, and I must be out of Purbeck before sunrise. So tell Blok what I say, that he and thou must flit, and pass the flask, for I have fifteen miles to walk against the wind, and must keep off these midnight chills. He drank again, and then rose to his feet, shaking himself like a dog, and walking briskly across this cave twice or thrice to make sure, as I thought, that the ararat milk had not confused his steps. Then he shook my hand warmly, and disappeared in the deep shadow of the passage-mouth. The wind was blowing more fitfully than before, and there was some sign of a lull between the gusts. I stood at the opening of the passage, and listened till the echo of Ratzid's footsteps died away, and then, returning to the corner, flung more wood on the fire, and lit the candle. After that, I took out again the parchment, and also my aunt's red prayer-book, and sat down to study them. First, I looked out in the book that text about the days of our life, and found that it was indeed in the ninetieth psalm, but the tenth-first, just as Ratzid said, and not the twenty-first, as it was written on the part of the passage. And then I took the second text, and here again the psalm was given correct, but the verse was two, and not six, as my scribe had it. It was just the same with the other three, the number of the psalm was right, but the verse wrong. So here was a discovery, for all was painfully written smooth and clean without a blot, and yet in every verse an error. But if the second number did not stand for the verse, what else should it mean? I scarce formed the question to myself before I had the answer, and knew that it must be the number of the word chosen in each text to make a secret meaning. I was in as great a fever and excitement now, as when I found the locket in the mahoun vault, and could scarce count with trembling fingers as far as I could see. And then I took out again the psalm, and again the psalm. And could scarce count with trembling fingers as far as 21 in the first verse for hurry and amaze. It was forescore that the number fell on in the first text, feet in the second, and deep in the third, well in the fourth, north in the fifth. Forescore, feet, deep, well, north. There was the cipher read, and what an easy trick, and yet I had not lighted on it, and all this while, nor ever should have, but for Sexton Ratsy and his burial verse. It was a cunning plan of Blackbird, but other folk were quite as cunning as he, and here was all his treasure at our feet. I chuckled over that to myself, rubbing my hands, and read it through again. Forescore, feet, deep well, north. It was all so simple, and the word in the fourth verse, well, and not veil, or pool, as I had stuck out so often in trying to unriddle it. How was it I had not guessed as much before? And here was something to tell Esephia, when he came back, that the clue was found to the cipher and the secret out. I would not reveal it all at once, but tease him by making him guess, and at last tell him everything, and we would set to work at once to make ourselves rich men. And then I thought once more of grace, and how the laugh would be on my side now, for all Master Ratsy's banter about her being rich, and me being poor. Forescore, feet, deep well, north. I read it again, and somehow it was this time a little less dear. And I felt a thinking what it was exactly that I should tell Esephia, and how we were to get to work to find the treasure. It was hidden a well. That was plain enough, but in what well, and what did north mean? Was it the north well, or to north of the well, or was it forescore feet north of the deep well? I stared at the verses as if the ink would change colour and show some other sense. And then a veil seemed drawn across the writing, and the meaning to slip away, and be as far as ever from my grasp. Forescore, feet, deep, well, north. And by degrees exulting gladness gave way to bewilderment and disquart of spirit, and in the gusts of wind I heard Blackbird himself laughing and mocking me for thinking I had found his treasure. Still I read and reread it, juggling with the words, and turning them about to squeeze new meaning from them. Forescore, feet, deep, in the north well. Forescore, feet, deep in the well, to the north. Forescore, feet, north of the deep well. So the words went round and round in my head, till I was tired and giddy, and fell unaware as asleep. It was daylight when I awoke, and the wind had fallen, that I could still hear the thunder of the swell against the rock face down below. The fire was yet burning, and by it sat Elsevier cooking something in the pot. He looked fresh and keen, like a man risen from a long night's sleep, rather than one who had spent the hours of darkness in struggling against a gale, and must afterwards remain watching, because, forsooth, the sentinel sleeps. He spoke, as soon as he saw that I was awake, laughing, and saying, How goes the night, watchman? Is it the second time that I have caught the napping, and did sleep so sound it might have taken a cold pistol's lips against thy forehead to wake thee? I was too full of my story, even to beg his pardon, but began at once to tell him what had happened, and how, by following the hint that rents he dropped, I have made out as I thought a secret meaning in these verses. Elsevier heard me patiently, and with more sure of interest towards the end, and then took the parchment in his hands, reading it carefully, and checking the errors of numbering by the help of the Red Prayer Book. I believe thou art right, he said at length. For why should all the figures be false if there be no hidden trickery in it? If it had been one or two were wrong, I would have said some priests to cop with them in error. Folk priests are thriftless folk, and how does Leif set a thing down wrong as right? But with all wrong, there is no room for chance. So if he means it, let us see what does he means. First he says, it is in a well. But what well? And the depths he gives of four score feet is over deep for any well near main fleet. I once was saying it must be the well at the Manor House, but before the words left my mouth, remembered that there was no well at the Manor at all, for the house was watered by a runnel-brook that broke out from the woods above, and jumping down from stone to stone, ran through the Manor Gardens, and emptied itself into the fleet below. And now I come to think of it, as if it went on. It is more likely that the well he speaks of was not in these parts at all, for see here, this blackboard was a sprent fish squandering all he had, and were most surely of a squandered the jewel too, could he have laid his hands on it. And yet he said he did not. Therefore I think he must have stowed it safe in some place where afterwards he could not get at it. For if it had been near Moonfleet, he would have had it up a hundred times, but thou has often talked of Blackbeard in his end with Pass and Lenny. So speak up, lad, and let us hear all that thou knowest of these tales, maybe to help us to come to some judgment. So I told him all that Mr. Lenny had told me, how that Colonel John Mahune, whom men called Blackbeard, was a wasteful from his youth, and squandered all his substance in Rata's living. Thus being at his last turn he changed from royalist to rebel, and was set to guard the king in the castle of Carisbrook. But there he stooped to a bribe, and took from his royal prisoner a splendid diamond of the crown to let him go. Then, with the jewel in his pocket, turned traitor again, and showed a file of soldiers into the room where the king was stuck between the window-bars, escaping. But no one trusted Blackbeard after that, and so he lost his post, and came back in his age a broken man to Moonfleet. There he rusted out his life, but when he neared his end was filled with fear, and sent for a clergyman to give him consolation. And was at the Parsons' instance that he made a will, and bequeathed the diamond, which was the only thing he had left, to the Mahune arms-houses at Moonfleet. These were the very houses that he had robbed and let go to ruin, and they never benefited by his testament. For when it was opened there was the bequest plain enough, but not a word to say where was the jewel. Some said that it was all a mockery, and that Blackbeard never had the jewel, others that the jewel was in his hand when he died, but carried off by some that stood by. But most thought, and handed down the tale, that being taken suddenly, he died before he could reveal the safe place of the jewel, and that in his last throws he struggled hard to speak, as if he had some secret to unburden. All this, I told Elsevier, and he listened close as though some of it was new to him. When I was speaking of Blackbeard being at Carriesbrook, he made a little quick move as though to speak, but did not, waiting till I had finished the tale. Then he broke out with, John, the diamond is yet at Carriesbrook. I wonder I had not thought of Carriesbrook before you spoke, and there he can get Fourscore feet and twice and thrice Fourscore, if you list, and none to stop him. It is Carriesbrook. I have heard of that well from childhood, and once saw it when a boy, it is dug in the castle-keep, and goes down fifty fathoms or more into the bowels of the chalk below. It is so deep, no man can draw the buckets on a winch, but they must have an ass inside a tread-wheel to hoist them up. Now why this Colonel John Mahoon, whom we call Blackbeard, should have chosen a well at all to hide his julien, I cannot say. But given he chose a well, it was odd he would choose Carriesbrook. It is a known place, and I have heard that people come as far as from London to see the castle and this well. He spoke quick, and with more far than I had known him used before, and I felt he was right. It seemed indeed natural enough that if Blackbeard was to hide the diamond in a well, it would be in the well of that very castle where he had earned it so eagerly. When he says the well north, it is clear he means to take a compass and mark north by needle, and at eighty feet in the well's side below that point will lie the treasure. I fixed yesterday with the Bonaventure's men that they should lie underneath this ledge to-morrow, Sir Knight, if the sea be smooth, and take us off on the spring tide. At midnight is their hour, and I said eight days on to give thy leg a week wherewith to strengthen. I thought to make for St. Marlowe, and leave thee at the upper end door with old chauvelet, where thou couldst learn to pat a French until these evil times have blown by. But now, if thou art set to hunt this treasure up, and has to mind to run thy head into a noose, why, I am not so old, but that I too can play the fool, and we'll let St. Marlowe be, and make for Carriesbrook. I know the castle's not two miles distant from Newport, and at Newport we can lie at the bugle, which is an inn addicted to the contraband. The king's writ runs but lamely in the Channel Isles and White, and if we wear some other kit than this, maybe we shall find Newport as safe as St. Marlowe. This was just what I wanted, and so we settled there and then that we would get the Bonaventure to land us in the Isle of White instead of at St. Marlowe. Since man first walked upon this earth, a tale of buried treasure must have had a master power to stir his blood, and mine was hotly stirred. Even Elsevier, though he did not show it, was moved, I thought, at heart, and we chafed in our cave prison, and those eight days went wearily enough. It was not time lost, for every day my leg grew stronger, and like a wolf which I once saw in a cage at Dorchester Fair, I spent hours in marching round the cave to kill the time and put more vigor in my steps. Ratsy did not visit us again, but in spite of what he said, met Elsevier more than once, and got money for him from Dorchester, and many other things he needed. It was after meeting Ratsy that Elsevier came back one night, bringing a long whip in one hand, and in the other a bundle which held clothes to mask us in the next scene. There was a Carter smock for him, white, and quilted over with needlework such as Carter's were on the down farms, and for me a smaller one, and hats and leather leggings all to match. We tried them on, and were for all the world Carter and Carter's boy, and I laughed long to see Elsevier stand there and practice how to crap his whip and cry, woo-hoo, as Carter's do to horses. And for all he was so grave, there was a smile on his face too, and he showed me how to twist a wisp of straw out of the bed to bind about my ankles at the bottom of the leggings. He had cut off his beard, and yet lost nothing of his looks, for his jaw and the deep chin showed firm and powerful. And as for me, we made a broth of young walnut leaves and twigs, and tanned my hands and face with it a ruddy brown, so that I looked a different lad. End of Chapter 12, Part 2. Recording by Simon Evers Chapter 13 of Moonfleet. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Simon Evers. Moonfleet by J. Meade-Forkner. Chapter 13. An Interview No human creature stirred to go or come. No face looked forth from shut or open casement. No chimney smoked. There was no sign of home, from parapet to basement. Hood. And so the days went on, until there came to be but two nights more before we were to leave our cave. Now I have said that the delay chafed us because we were impatient to get at the treasure. But there was something else that vexed me and made me more unquiet with every day that passed. And this was that I had resolved to see Grace before I left these parts, and yet knew not how to tell it to Elsevier. But on this evening, seeing the time was grown so short, I knew that I must speak or drop my purpose, and so spoke. We were sitting like the seabirds on the ledge outside our cave looking towards St. Albans head and watching the last glow of sunset. The evening vapours began to sweep down channel, and Elsevier shrugged his shoulders. The night turned to chill, he said, and got up to go back to the cave. So then I thought my time was come, and following him inside said, Dear Master Elsevier, you have watched over me all this while and tended me kinder than any father could his son. It is to you I owe my life, and that my leg is strong again. Yet I am restless this night, and beg that you will give me leave to climb the shaft and walk abroad. It is two months or more that I have been in the cave and seen nothing but stone walls, and I would gladly tread once more upon the down. Say not that I have saved your life, Elsevier broke in. Desire, who brought thy life in danger. And but for me thou mightest even now be lying snug a bed at Woonfleet, instead of hiding in the chambers of these rocks. So speak not of that. But if thou hast a mind to air thyself, and hour, I see little harm in it. These wayward fancies fall on men as they get better of sickness, and I must go tonight to that ruined house of which I spoke to thee, to fetch a pocket compass Master Ratsey was to put there. So thou canst come with me and smell the night air on the down. He had agreed more readily than I looked for, and so I pushed the matter, saying, Nay, Master, grant me leave to go yet a little farther afield. You know that I was born in Woonfleet, and have been bred there all my life, and love the trees, and stream, and very stones of it. And I have set my heart on seeing it once more before we leave these parts for good and all. So give me leave to walk on on the down and look on Woonfleet, but this once, and in this plough-boy's eyes I should be safe enough, and will come back to you tomorrow night. He looked at me a moment without speaking, and all the while I felt he saw me through and through. And yet he was not angry. But I turned red and cast my eyes upon the ground, and then he spoke. Lad, I have known men risk their lives for many things for gold, and love, and hate. But never one would play with death that he might see a tree, or stream, or stones. And when men say they love a place or town, I may as be sure it is not the place they love, but some that live there. Or that they loved some in the past, and so would see the spot again to kindle memory with all. Thus when thou speakest of Woonfleet, I may guess that thou hast to someone there to see, or hope to see. It cannot be thine aunt, for there is no love lost between ye. And besides, no man ever peddled his life to bid adieu to an aunt. So have no secrets from me, John, but tell me straight, and I will judge whether this second treasure that thou seekest is true gold enough to fling thy life into the scale against it. Then I told him all, keeping nothing back, but trying to make him see that there was little danger in my visiting Woonfleet, for none would know me in a Carter's dress, and that my knowledge of the place would let me use a hedge, or wall, or wood for cover. And finally, if I was seen, my leg was now sound, and there were few could meet me in a running match upon the down. So I talked on. Not so much in the hope of convincing him as to keep saying something. For I durst not look up, and feared to hear an angry word from him when I should stop. But at last I had spoken all I could, and ceased, because I had no more. Yet he did not break out as I had thought, but there was silence. And after a moment I looked up, and saw by his face that his thoughts were wandering. When he spoke, there was no anger in his voice, but only something sad. Thou art a foolish lad, he said. Yet I was young once myself, and my ways have been too dark to make me wish to darken others, or try to chill young blood. Now, thine own life has got a shadow on it already, that I have helped to cast. So take the brightness of it while thou smaced, and get thee gone. But for this girl I know her for a comely lass, and good-hearted, and have wondered often how she came to have him for her father. I am glad now I have not his blood on my hands, and never would have gone to take it then, for all the evil he had brought on me, but that the lives of every mother sung hun on his life. So make thine mind at ease, and get thee gone, and see these streams, and trees, and stones thou talkest of. Yet if thou dost shot upon the ground, or taken off to jail, blame thine own folly, and not me. And I will walk with thee to Purbic Gates tonight, and then come back and wait. But if thou art not here again by midnight to to-morrow, I shall believe that thou art taken in some snare, and come out to seek thee. I took his hand, and thanked him with what words I could that he had let me go, and then got on the smock, putting some bread and a meat in my pockets, as I was likely to find little to eat on my journey. It was dark before we left the cave, for there is little dusk with us, and the division between day and night sharper than in more northern parts. Elsevier took me by the hand, and led me through the darkness of the workings, telling me where I should stoop, and when the way was uneven. Then, thus we came to the bottom of the shaft, and looking up through ferns and brambles, I could see the deep blue the sky overhead, and a great star gazing down full at us. We climbed the steps with the soapstone slide at one side, and then walked on briskly over the springy turf, through the hillocks of the coveted quarry heaps, and the ruins of the deserted cottages. There was a heavy dew which got through my boots before we had gone half a mile, and there there was no moon, the sky was very clear, and I could see the veil of Gossamer's spread silvery white over the grass. Neither of us spoke, partly because it was safer not to speak, for the voice carries far in a still night on the downs, and partly, I think, because the beauty of the starry heaven had taken hold upon us both, ruling our hearts with thoughts too big for words. We soon reached that ruined cottage of which Elsevier had spoken, and in what had once been an oven found the compass safe enough as Ratsey had promised. Then on again over the solitary hills, not speaking ourselves, and neither seeing light in window nor hearing dog-stir, until we reached that strange defile which men call the gates of Purbeck. Here is a natural road nicking the highest summit of the hill, with walls as sharp as if the hand of man had cut them, through which have walked for ages all the few travelers in this lonely place, shepherds and sailors, soldiers, and excise men. And although, as I suppose, no carts have been through it for centuries, there are ruts in the chalk floor as wide and deep as if the cars of Jans used it in past times. So here, Elsevier stopped, and drawing from his bosom that silver-butted pistol of which I have spoken, he thrust it in my hand. Here, take it, child, he said, but use it not till thou art close depressed, and then, if thou must shoot, shoot low, it flings. I took it, and gripped his hand, and so we parted, he going back to Purbeck, and I making along the top of the ridge at the back of Hawthead. It must have been near three when I reached a great grass-grown mound called Culliford Tree, that marks the resting place of some old warrior of the past. The top is planted by the clump of trees that cut the skyline, and there I sat a while to rest, but not for long. For looking back towards Purbeck, I could see the faint hint of dawn low on the sea-line behind St. Albans Head, and so, pressed forward, knowing I had a full ten miles to cover yet. Thus I travelled on, and soon came to the first sign of man, namely a flock of lambs being fed with turnips on a summer fallow. The sun was well up now, and flushed all with a rosy glow, showing the sheep and the roots they eat white against the barren earth. Still I saw no shepherd, not even dog, and about seven o'clock stood safe on Weather Beach Hill that looks down over moon-fleet. There at my feet lay the manner-woods and the old house, and lower down the white road, and the struggling cottages, and farther still, the why-not, and the glassy fleet, and beyond that the open sea. I cannot say how sad yet sweet the sight was. It seemed like the mirage of the desert of which I had been told, so beautiful, but never to be reached again by me. The air was still, and the blue smoke of the morning wood-fires rose straight up, but none from the why-not, or manor-house. The sun was already very hot, and I dropped it once from the hill-top, digging my heels into the brown-burned turf, and keeping as much as might be among the first chomps. So I was soon in the wood, and made straight for the little dell, and lay down there, burying myself on the wild rhubarb and burdock, yet so that I could see the doorway of the manor-house over the lip of the hill. Then I reflected what I was to do, or how I should get to speak with Grace, and thought I would first wait an hour or two, and see whether she came out, and afterwards, if she did not, would go down boldly and knock at the door. This seemed not very dangerous, for it was likely from what Ratzi had said that there was no one with her in the house, and if there was, it would be but an old woman to whom I could pass as a stranger in my disguise, and ask my way to some house in the village. So I lay still, and munched a piece of bread, and heard the clock in the church tower strike eight, and afterwards nine, but saw no one move in the house. The wood was all alive with singing birds, and with the calling of cuckoo and wood-pigeon. There were deep patches of green shade, and lighter patches of yellow sunlight, in which the aris leaves gleamed with a sheeny white, and a shimmering blue sea of ground ivy spread all through the wood. It struck ten, and as the heat increased, the birds sang less, and the droning of the bees grew more distinct. And at last I got up, shook myself, smoothed my smock, and making a turn came out on the road that led to the house. Then my disguise was good. I fear I made but an indifferent bad plow-boy when walking, and found a difficulty in dealing with my hands, not knowing how plow-boys I went to carry them. So I came round in front of the house, and gave a rat-tat on the door, while my pulse beat as loud inside of me as ever did the knocker without. The sound ran round the building, and backwards among the walks, and all was silent as before. I waited a minute, and was for knocking again, thinking there might be no one in the house, and then heard a light footstep coming along the corridor, yet dust not looks through the window to see who it was in passing as I might have done, but kept myself close to the door. The bolts were being drawn, and a girl's voice asked, Who's there? I gave a jump to hear that voice, knowing it well for graces, and had a mind to shout out my name. But then I remembered there might be some in the house with her besides, and I must remain disguised. Moreover, laughing is so mixed with crying in our world, and trifling things with serious, that even in this pass I believe I was secretly pleased to have to play a trick on her, and test whether she'd find me out in this dress or not. So I spoke out in our round dorset speech, such as they'd talk it out in the veil, saying, A poor boy who is out of his way. Then she opened one leaf of the door, and asked me whether I would go, looking me as one might had a stranger, and not knowing who it was. I answered, that I was a farm lad who'd walked from Purbeck, and sought an in-call the why-not, kept by one master-block. When she heard that, she gave a little start, and looked me over again. It could make nothing of it, but said, Good lad, if you will step onto this terrace, I can show you the why-not in. But she's shut these two months or more, and master-block away. With that she turned towards the terrace, eye-following. But when we were outside of the air-shop from the door, I spoke in my own voice, quick but low. Grace, it is I, John Trenshard, whom come to say good-bye before I leave these parts, and have much to tell that you wish to hear. Are there any beside in the house with you? Now, many girls who have suffered as she had, and were thus surprised, would have screamed, or perhaps swooned. But she did neither, only flushing a little, and saying also, quick and low, let us go back to the house, I'm alone. So we went back, and after the door was bolted, took both hands, and stood up face to face in the passage, looking into one another's eyes. I was tired of the long walk and sleepless night, and so full of joy to see her again, that my head swam, and all seemed a sweet dream. Then she squeezed my hands, and I knew it was real, and was for kissing her for very love. But she guessed what I would be at, perhaps, and cast my hands loose, drawing back a little, as if to see me better, and saying, John, you have grown a man in these two months. So I did not kiss her. But if it was true that I was grown a man, it was truer still, that she was grown a woman, and as tall as I. And these recent sufferings had taken from her something of light and frolic girlhood, and left her with a manner more staid than sober. She was dressed in black with longer skirts, and her hair caught up behind, and perhaps it was the morning frock that made her look pale and thin, as Ratsey said. So while I looked at her, she looked at me, who could not choose but smile to see my carter smock. And as for my brown face and hands, thought I had been siding in some country underneath the sun, until I had told her of the walnut juice. Then before we fell to talking, she said it was better we should sit in the garden, but that a woman might come in to help her with the house, and anyway it was safer, so that I might get out of the back in case of need. So she led the way down the corridor and through the living part of the house, and we passed several rooms, and one little parlour lined with shelves and musty books. The blinds were pulled, but let enough light in to show a high-backed horse-hair chair that stood at the table. In front of it lay an open volume and a pair of home-rimmed spectacles that often seen on Mascu's nose. So I knew it was his study, and that nothing had been moved since last he sat there. Even now I trembled to think in whose house I was, and half expected the older turner to step in and hail me off to jail, till I remembered how all my trouble had come about, and how I had last had seen him with his face turned up against the morning sun. Thus he came to the garden, where I had never been before. It was a great square shut in with a brick wall of twelve or fifteen feet, big enough to suit a palace, but then ill-kept and sorely overgrown. I could spend long in speaking of that plot, how the flowers and fruit trees, pothurbs, spices and symbols ran all wild and intermixed. The pink brick walls caught every ray of sun that fell, and that morning there was a hushed, close heat in it, and a warm breath rose from the strawberry beds, for they were then in full bearing. I was glad enough to get out of the sun when grace led the way into a walk of medler trees and quinces, where the boughs interlaced and formed an alley to a brick summerhouse. This summerhouse stands in the angle of the south wall, and by it two fig trees, whose tops you can see from the outside. They are well known for the biggest and the earliest bearing of all that part, and grace showed me how, if danger threatened, I might climb up their boughs and scale the wall. We sat in the summerhouse, and I told her all that had happened at her father's death, only concealing that Elsevier had meant to do the deed himself, because he was no used to tell her that, and besides, for all I knew, he never did mean to shoot, but only to frighten. She wept again while I spoke. But afterwards dried her tears, a must-need look at my leg to see the bullet wound, and if it was all soundly healed. Then I told her of the secret sense that Master Ratz's words put into the texts written on the parchment. I had showed her the locket before, but we had it out again now, and she read and read again the writing while I pointed out how the words fell, and told her I was going away to get the diamond, and come back the richest man in all the countryside. Then she said, Ah John, set not your heart too much upon this diamond? If what they say is true, it was evilly come by, and we'll bring evil with it. Even this wicked man durst not spend it for himself, but meant to give it to the poor. So if indeed you ever find it, keep it not for yourself, but set his soul at rest by doing with it what he meant to do, or it will bring a curse upon you. I only smiled at what she said, taking it to be a girlish fancy. I did not tell her why I wanted so much to be rich, namely to marry her one day. Then having talked long about my own concerns as selfishly as a man always does, I thought to ask after herself what she was going to do. She told me that a month past lawyers had come to Moonfleet, and pressed her to leave the place, and they be given in charge to a lady in London, because, said they, her father had died without a will, and so she must be made a ward of chancery. But she had begged them to let her be, for she could never live anywhere else than in Moonfleet, and that the air and commodity of the place suited her well. So they went off, saying that they must take direction of the court to know whether she might stay there or not, and here she it was. This may be sad, for all I knew of chancery was that whatever it put hands on fell to ruin, as witnessed the chancery mills at Cern or the chancery wharf at Warham, and certainly it would take little enough to ruin the manor house, for it was three parts in decay already. Thus we talked, and after that she put on a calico bonnet and picked me a dish of strawberries, staying to pull the finest, although the sun was beating down from mid-heaven, and brought me bread and meat from the house. Then she rolled up a shawl to make me a pillow, and baby lie down on the seat that ran round the summer house, and get to sleep, for I had told her that I had walked all night, and must be back again if the cave come midnight. She went back to the house, and that was the most sweet and peaceful sleep that ever I knew, for I was very tired, and had this thought to soothe me as I fell asleep, that I had seen Grace, and that she was so kind to me. She was sitting beside me when I awoke, and knitting a piece of work. The heat of the day was somewhat less, and she told me that it was past five o'clock by the sundial. So I knew that I must go. She maybe take a packet of vitals and a bottle of milk, and as she put it into my pocket, the bottle struck on the butt of Mascu's pistol, which I had in my bosom. What have you there? she said. But I did not tell her, fearing to call up bitter memories. We stood hand in hand again, as we had done in the morning, and she said, John, you will wander on sea, and may perhaps put into moon-fleet. Though you have not been here of late, I have kept a candle burning at the window every night, as in the past. So if you come to beach on any night, you will see that light, and no, Grace remembers you. And if you see it not, then know that I am dead, or gone. For I will think of you every night, till you come back again. I had nothing to say, for my heart was too full with her sweet words, and with the sorrow of parting. But only drew her close to me, and kissed her. And this time she did not step back, but kissed me again. Then I climbed up the fig tree, thinking it's safer so to get out over the wall than to go back to the front of the house. And as I sat on the wall, ready to drop the other side, turned to her, and said, Good-bye. Good-bye! cried she, and have a care how you touch the treasure. It was evenly come by, and will bring a curse with it. Good-bye! Good-bye! I said, and dropped onto the soft, leafy bottom of the wood. CHAPTER XIV THE WELL HOUSE For those thou mayest not look upon are gathering fast round the yawning stone. Scott. It wanted yet half an hour of midnight when I found myself at the shaft of the marble quarry, and before I had well set foot on the steps to descend, heard Elzaville's voice challenging out of the darkness below. I gave back Prosper the Bonaventure, and so came home again to sleep the last time in our cave. The next night was well suited to flight. There was a spring tied with full moon, and a light breeze setting off the land which left the water smooth under the cliff. We saw the Bonaventure cruising in the channel before sundown, and after the darkness fell she laid close in and took us off in her boat. There were several men on board of her that I knew, and they greeted us kindly and made much of us. I was indeed glad to be among them again, and yet felt a pang at leaving our dear Dorset coast, and the old cave that had been hospital and home to me for two months. The wind set us up channel, and by daybreak they put us ashore at cows, so we walked to Newport, and came there before many were stirring. Such as we saw in the street paid no heed to us, but took us doubtless for some Carter and his boy who had brought corn in from the country for the Southampton packet, and were about early to lead the team home again. It is a little enough place, this Newport, and we soon found the bugle, but Elsevier made so good a Carter that the landlord did not know him, though he had his acquaintance before. So they fenced a little with one another. Have you bed and vitals for a plain country man and his boy? says Elsevier. Nay that I have not, says the landlord, looking him up and down, and not liking to take in strangers who might use their eyes inside, and perhaps get on the trail of the contraband. It is near the summer statute, and the place overfall already. I cannot move my gentleman and morbid you try the wheat-sheaf, which is a good house, and not so full as this. I, it is a busy time, and it is these fares that make things prosper. And Elsevier marked with the last word a little as he said it. The man looked harder at him and asked, Prosper what? As if he were hard of hearing. Prosper the Bonaventure, was the answer. And then the landlord caught Elsevier by the hand, shaking it hard and saying, Why you a master block, and I expected you this morning never knew you. He laughed as he stared at us again, and Elsevier smiled too. Then the landlord led us in. And this is, he said, looking at me. This is a well-licked welp, replied Elsevier, who got a bullet in the leg two months ago in that touch under her head, and it's worth more than he looks, for they have put twenty golden guineas on his head. So have a care of such a precious top, not. As long as we stopped at the bugle, we had the best of lodging and the choicest meat and drink, and all the while the landlord treated Elsevier as though he were a prince. And so he was indeed a prince among the contrabandiers. And held, as I found out long afterwards, for captain of all landers between start and solent. At first the landlord would take no money of us, saying that he was in our debt, and had received many a good term from Mr. Block in the past. But Elsevier had got gold from Dorchester before we left the cave, and forced him to take payment. I was glad enough to lie between clean, sweet sheets at night, instead of a heap of sand, and sit once more a knife and fork in hand before a well-filled trencher. It was thought best I should show myself as little as possible, so I was content as to pass my time in a room at the back of the house, whilst Elsevier went abroad to make inquiries how he could find entrance to the castle at Carriesbrook. Nor did the time hang heavy on my hands, for I found some old books in the bugle, and among them several to my taste, especially a history of Corf Castle, which set forth how there was a secret passage from the ruins to some of the old marble quarries, and perhaps to that very one that sheltered us. Elsevier was out most of the day, so that I saw him only at breakfast and supper. He had been several times to Carriesbrook, and told me that the castle was used as a jail for persons taken in the walls, and was now full of French prisoners. He had met several of the turned keys, or jailers, drinking with them in the inns there, and making out that he was himself a carter who waited at Newport till a wind-bound ship should bring grindstones from Lyme Regis. Thus he was able at last to enter the castle and to see Well House and Well, and spent some days in trying to devise a plan whereby we might get at the Well without making the man who had charge of it privy to our full design. But in this did not succeed. There is a slip of garden at the back of the bugle which runs down to a little stream. He had met several of the turned keys, or jailers, drinking with them in the inns there, and making out that he was himself a carter who waited at Newport till a wind-bound ship should bring grindstones from Lyme Regis. Thus he was able at last to enter the castle and to see Well House and Well, and spent some days in trying to devise a plan whereby we might get at the Well without making the man who had charge of it privy to our full design. But in this did not succeed. There is a slip of garden at the back of the bugle which runs down to a little stream, and one evening, when I was taking the air there after dark, Elsevier returned and said that time was come for us to put Blackbeard's cipher to the proof. I have tried every way, he said, to see if we could work this secretly. But it is not to be done without the privy of the man who keeps the Well, and even with his help it is not easy. He is a man I do not trust, but have been forced to tell him there is treasure hidden in the Well, if without saying where it lies or how to get it, he promises to let us search the Well, taking one third the value of all we find for his share. For I said not that thou and I were one at heart, but only that there was a boy who had the key and claimed an equal third with both of us. Tomorrow we must be up at times and at the castle gate by six o'clock for him to let us in, and thou shall not be Carter any more, but Mason's boy and I are Mason, for I have got coats in the house, brushes and trowels and lime-bucket, and we are going to Carriesbrook to plaster up a weak patch in this same Wellside. Elsevier had thought carefully over this plan, and when we left the bugle next morning, we were better Mason's in our splash clothes than ever we had been farm servants. I carried a bucket and a brush, and Elsevier a plasterous hammer and a coil of stout twine over his arm. It was a wet morning and had been raining all night. The sky was stagnant and one coloured without wind, and the heavy drops fell straight down out of a grey veil that covered everything. The air struck cold when we first came out, but trudging over the heavy road soon made us remember that it was July, and we were very hot and soaking wet when we stood at the gateway of Carriesbrook Castle. Here are two flanking towers and a stout gate-house reached by a stone bridge crossing the moat, and when I saw it I remembered that it was here Colonel Mahune had earned the wages of his unrighteousness, and thought how many times he must have passed these gates. Elsevier knocked as one that had a right, and we were evidently expected, for a wicket in the heavy door was opened at once. The man who let us in was tall and stout, but had a puffy face and too much flesh on him to be very strong, though he was not, I think, more than thirty years of age. He gave Elsevier a smile, and passed the time of day civilly enough, nodding also to me, but I did not like his oily black hair and a shifty eye that turned away uneasily when we met it. Good morning, Master Werright, he said to Elsevier. He brought ugly weather with you and a drowning wet. Would you take a supper-bell before you get to work? Elsevier thanked him kindly, but would not drink, so the man led on, and we followed him. We crossed a baili or outer-court where the rain had made the gravel very maury, and came on the other side to a door which led by steps into a large hall. This building had once been a banquet-room, I think, for there was an inscription over it very plain in lead. He led me into his banquet hall, and his banner over me was love. I had time to read this while the turn-key unlocked the door with one of a heavy bunch of keys that he carried at his girdle. But when we entered, what a disappointment, for there were no banquets now, no banners, no love, but the whole place gutted and turned into a barrack for French prisoners. The air was very close, as were men had slept all night, and a thick steam on the windows. Most of the prisoners were still asleep, and they stretched out on straw palliasses round the walls. But some were sitting up and making models of ships out of fish-bones or building up crucifixes inside bottles, as sailors loved to do in their spare time. They paid little to heed to us as we passed, though the sleepy guards who were lounging on their match-locks nodded to our conductor. And thus we went right through that evil-smelling white-washed room. We left it at the other end, went down three steps into the open air again, crossed another small court, and so came to a square building of stone with a high roof, like the large dove-cuts that you may see in old stack-yards. Here our guide took another key, and while the door was being opened, Elsevier whispered to me, It is the well-house. And my pulse beat quick to think we were so near our goal. The building was open to the roof, and the first thing to be seen in it was that tread-wheel of which Elsevier had spoken. It was a great open-wheel of wood, ten or twelve feet across, and very like a mill-wheel. Only the space between the rims was boarded flat, but had treads nailed on it to it to give foothold to a donkey. The patient beast was lying loose, stabled on some straw in a corner of the room, and as soon as we came in stood up and stretched himself, knowing that the day's work was to begin. He was here long before my time, the turkey said, and also placed so well that he goes into the wheel and sets to work by himself. At the side of the wheel was the well-mouth, a dark, round opening with a low parapet-rided, rising two feet from the floor. We were so near our goal. Yet, were we near it at all, how do we know if a hueon had meant to tell the place of hiding for the darmen in those words? They might have meant a dozen things beside. And if it was what the darmen they spoke, then how do we know the well was this one? There are a hundred wells beside. These thoughts came to me, making hopeless sure, and perhaps it was the steamy overcast morning and the rain, or a scant breakfast, that beat my spirit down. For I have known men's mood to change much with weather and with food. But sure it was that now we stood so near to put it to the touch. I liked our business less and less. As soon as we were entered, the turkey locked the door from the inside, and when he let the key drop it to its place and it jangled with the others on his belt, it seemed to me he had up had us as his prisoners in a trap. I tried to catch his eye to see if it looked bad or good, but could not, for he kept his shifty face turned away somewhere else. And then it came to my mind that if the treasure was really fought with evil, this coarse, dark-haired man who could not look one straight was to become a minister of ruin to bring the curse home to us. But if I was weak and timid, Elsevier had no misgivings. He had taken the coil of twine off his arm and was undoing it. We will let an end of this down the well, he said, and I have made a knot in it at 80 feet. This lad thinks the treasure is in the well wall 80 feet below us, so when the knot is on well lip we shall know we have the right depth. I tried again to see what look the turnkey wore when he heard where the treasure was, but could not, and so fell to examining the well. A spindle ran from the axle of the wheel across the well, and on the spindle was a drum to take the rope. There was some clutch or fastening which could be fixed or loosed at will to make the drum turn with the tread-wheel, or let it run free, and a foot-break to lower the bucket fast or slow, or stop it altogether. I will get into the bucket, Elsevier said, turning to me, and this good man will learn me gently by the break until I reach the string end down below, then I will shout, and so fix you the wheel, and give me time to search. This was not what I looked for, having thought that it was I should go. And though I liked going down the well little enough, yet somehow now I felt I would rather do that than have Master Elsevier down the well, and me left locked alone with this villainous fellow up above. So I said, no Master that cannot beat is my place to go being smaller and a lighter weight than thou, and thou shalt stop here and help this gentleman to lure me down. Elsevier spoke a few words to try to change my purpose, but soon gave in, knowing it was certainly the better plan, and having only thought to go himself because he doubted if I had the heart to do it. But the turnkey showed much ill humour at the change, and strove to let the plan stand as it was, and for Elsevier to go down the well. Things that were settled, he said, should remain settled, he was not one for changes, it was a man's task this, and no child's play, a boy would not have his senses about him and might overlook the place. I fixed my eyes on Elsevier to let him know what I thought. A Master turnkey's words fell lightly on his ears as water on a duck's back. Then this ill-eyed man tried to work upon my fears, saying that the world is deep, and the bucket small, I should get giddy and be overbalanced. I do not say that these forebodings were without effect on me, but I have made up my mind that, bad as it might be to go down, it was yes worse to have Master Elsevier prisoned in the well, and I remained above. Thus the turnkey perceived at last that he was speaking to deaf ears, and turned to the business. Yet there was one fear that still held me, for thinking what I had heard of the quarry-shafts in Purbeck, how men had gone down to explore, and there had been taken with a sudden giddiness, and never lived to tell what they had seen. And so I said to Master Elsevier, I am sure the well is clean, and that no deadly gases lurk below? Thou mayst be sure I knew the well was sweet before I let the talker going down, he answered. For yesterday we lowered a candle to the water, and the flame burned bright and steady. And where the candle lives, there man lives too. But thou art right, these gases change from today, and we will try the thing again. So bring the candle, Master Jailer. The Jailer brought a candle fixed on a wooden triangle, but he was wont to show strangers who came to see the well, and lowered it on a string. It was not till then that I knew what a task I had before me, for looking over the parapet and taking care not to lose my balance, because the parapet was low, and the floor rounded green and slippery with water-splashings, I watched the candle sink into that cavernous depth, and from a bright flame turn into a little twinkling star, and then to a mere point of light. At last it rested on the water, and there was a shimmer where the wood frame had set ripples moving. We watched it twinkle for a little while, and the Jailer raised the candle from the water, and dropped down a stone from some he kept there for that purpose. This stone struck the wall halfway down and went from side to side, crashing and whirring, till it met the water with a booming plunge, and there rose a groan and a moan from the eddies, like those dreadful sounds of the surge that I heard on lonely nights in the sea-caverns underneath our hiding-place in Purbeck. The Jailer looked at me then for the first time, and his eyes had a gargly meaning, as if he said, There, that is how you will sound when you fall from your perch. But it was no use to frighten, for I had made up my mind. They pulled the candle up forthwith and put it in my hand, and I flung the plaster's hammer into the bucket, where it hung above the well, and then got in myself. The turnkey stood at the brake-wheel, and Elsevier lent over the parapet to steady the rope. I'll sure thou canst do it, lad," he said, speaking low, and put his hand kindly on my shoulder. Our head and heart, sure? Thou art my darman, and I would rather lose all other darmens in the world than ought to come to thee. So if thou, Dirtis, let me go, or let not any go at all. Never doth I, master? I said, touched by Tendotus, and wrung his hand. My head is sure. I have no broken leg to turn it silly now. For I guess he was thinking of whorehead, and how I had gone giddy on the zigzag.