The Adventures of Dick Trevanion: A Story of Eighteen Hundred and Four

by Herbert Strang

Since there was nothing to be gained by remaining longer at the outhouse, he went quietly away and walked back towards the Towers. But he was so much interested in his strange discovery that he felt it would be impossible to sleep until he knew whether the run proved successful. On reaching home, therefore, he went first to his mother's room to bid her good-night, then to the dining-room to get some supper, and shortly after eleven o'clock stole out again. He had never seen a smuggling run, and the likelihood that this one would be entirely undisturbed promised a peaceful view, without any risk of running into danger, of which he knew that his parents would disapprove.

He had not learnt where the run was to be, but guessed, if the tubs were to be carried to the cellars of the Dower House, that the head of Trevanion Bay would be the chosen spot. It was the most convenient place near to the Dower House, except the little harbour itself, which was not likely to be selected. He made his way, therefore, along the narrow headland known as the Beal, which formed the southern boundary of the bay. Near the end of the headland, overlooking the narrow passage between it and the reef, by which vessels could enter the harbour at low tide, was the favourite playground of his early boyhood. It was a hollow in the cliff, screened from observation seaward by a huge boulder somewhat insecurely poised. Only a few years had passed since Sam and he used to play there at fighting the French. There they had their toy citadel, from which they bombarded Boney's squadrons attempting an invasion. From it, too, they could see on to the decks of vessels passing in and out of the harbour at low tide, and hugging the cliff to avoid the reef. They played also at smuggling, and it is noteworthy that they were always the successful smugglers, and never the baulked and discomfited preventive men. It was a lonely spot, and they had it quite to themselves except for the gulls.

When, as they grew older, they no longer took the same childish delight in playing French and English, they turned the place into a storehouse for fishing gear. In a remote corner of the nook, they scooped out the earth to form a deep recess, lined this with wood, and kept there a reserve supply of hooks, tackle, rope, a spare anchor and sculls, two fowling-pieces, and other articles, by this means often saving themselves a journey back to the Towers. Lonely as the spot was, they often quaked with apprehension lest their secret should be discovered, especially during the pilchard season. At that time the huer, whose duty it was to keep watch, and indicate by flourishing a bush, for the benefit of the fishers below, the direction in which the shoals of fish were swimming, was accustomed to take his stand on the headland. But he naturally chose the highest point, and had no reason to seek the lower level of the cave, where he could neither see nor be seen so well. The boys were always careful to avoid the neighbourhood of their storehouse when the huer was about, and there being nothing to draw any one else to the spot, the secret had remained undiscovered.

It was towards this place that Dick proceeded on leaving the Towers. But when he arrived there, he found at once that if the smugglers' cargo was to be run in the bay it would be impossible to see anything of it. The night was particularly dark; only such moonless nights were chosen by the smugglers for their operations; and even the grey cliffs were almost invisible from where he stood. He determined, therefore, to return along the headland, and make his way down the face of the cliff by the path whereby he had ascended with Sam on the night of their bass fishing. There were recesses at the foot, in one of which he could easily conceal himself and watch all that went on. And as there was no time to lose, if he was to be in hiding before the smugglers arrived, he walked rapidly, and climbed down the steep path at a pace that would have been dangerous to any one who was not well acquainted with it.

He was unaware that a figure was following him. There was no sound of footsteps to attract his attention: he did not look back, and if he had done so he could hardly have seen the form that steadily kept pace with him at the distance of sixty or seventy yards. The second figure descended the path with the same surefooted ease, paused at the foot till Dick was out of sight, and then stole after him and ensconced himself in a hollow of the cliff only about three yards from that in which Dick had stationed himself. These hiding-places were some twenty yards from the bottom of the path.

Neither of the two silent watchers suspected that, on the cliff above them, a third figure was approaching the path by which they had descended, but from the opposite direction. Old Penwarden, so far from being snugly asleep, as Jake Tonkin rashly concluded, had never been more wide-awake in his life. The summoning of Mr. Mildmay to a distance, the lateness of the pilchard season, and the darkness of the night, combined to make him suspicious, and he had resolved to patrol the cliff from St. Cuby's Well to the Beal, to satisfy himself that the smugglers were not already at their tricks. Having smoked through his pipe at the Well, he returned to his cottage, took the telescope, the brace of pistols, the ammunition, the cutlass, and the blue light for giving an alarm which were his regular equipment, and began to march slowly and quietly up and down.

About ten minutes after the lads had taken up their positions, they heard a stone come rattling down the path twenty yards to the left. A few seconds after, they were just able to discern a dark figure emerge on to the beach. This was followed by another, and a third, and soon the whole beach was alive with dusky shapes. The tide was ebbing, but a stiff breeze sent long rollers dashing over the sand, their roar and rustle smothering the low voices of the men as they talked fitfully together.

The watchers saw one of the men drive an iron post firmly into the sand and attach to it the end of a rope. The other end was fastened to a similar post in the earth at the top of the cliff. By this means a rail was formed, to give assistance to the carriers as they climbed up with their burdens.

A little later there came from seaward a faint creak, scarcely distinguishable among the other sounds. The watchers pricked up their ears. Even at low tide there was enough water beneath the cliffs to enable a vessel to run in very close, and the hidden spectators guessed that a lugger was drawing in: at present they could not see it. The shore men were all low down on the beach. In a few minutes the men could be heard splashing in the water as they waded out to the vessel. Then the lugger itself appeared, a dark shape on the surface.

Soon the men could be seen returning in a long line, each one apparently twice as big as before. Each bore two tubs, one in front, one behind, slung over his shoulders by ropes which had been fitted before they left the lugger.