Cursed be the treasure
"Why," I cried, again summoning what impudence I could, though I was
terribly alarmed by now, "he's a poet, he is."
"A what?" cried Dirk.
He was evidently taken aback, and I felt my body free again.
"He's a poet," I repeated. "He tells stories--writes," I corrected
hurriedly.
Somehow my own lie seemed suddenly very like the truth to me. For that
my father could tell stories as no one else could, I well knew; and
that he carried pen and paper with him, and a slender selection of
books, I also knew. I wondered for half a moment whether I had unawares
pitched on the truth.
Dirk wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and said with bitter
scorn, "Ah, I know the likes of him. Gets the yarns out of chaps like
us, and dishes them up fer the swell blokes. _Kah!_" he ejaculated
with unction, "they don't mind the reading of 'em, but we what has the
doing...." He drew his hand across his throat, and his meaning was
unmistakable.
At this I felt a surging indignation on my father's account. The man
seemed to me to have insulted him, and I said, "You'd better not say
that to my father."
"Oho," he laughed, "I'd better not, hadn't I? An' what for no?"
Then I realized I had said more than I should have done, and as though
I had forgotten my remark I cried to cover my mistake, "You can't catch
me." I ducked under his grabbing hand, and was away.
Looking back I saw him spring up to watch me, and then he started on
my track, whether in fun or earnest I didn't know. I gave him a good
run, that much I remember, making for the rocks where I thought my
nimbleness would be to my advantage; but he was up with me too soon,
and I was forced to scramble up a tree into the high top branches where
I knew he couldn't follow. But he didn't attempt to pursue. He stood
below and shouted at me good-humouredly to come down and he wouldn't
hurt me. I was suspicious at first, but what was I to do? Down I must
come at the last. So I put a good face on the matter, and slid down at
his feet.
As it happened my confidence was well rewarded. He didn't grab at me as
I had half expected, but with hands on hips stood grinning down at me,
and after a long survey said, "Wull, an' what else can you do, since
you're such a nippy 'un?"
"Oh," I cried, "I can swim, and dive and--and I can fight."
"Pity if you couldn't," he put in, "seeing as what a world you live in."
"I fight with the knife," I said.
"The devil you do!" he replied.
In my belt I carried a wooden knife which I had whittled myself, and
this I drew and rushed in on Dirk to show that my boast was no idle
one. But he was too quick for me, and seized my wrist in true fashion.
At the same moment he drew a cutlass and flourished it glitteringly
over my head. I think he was surprised when I sprang and seized his
wrist as my father had taught me, though of course he wrenched himself
free with a single twist, at the same time releasing my imprisoned arm.
Slowly he pushed his weapon back into his belt, and said, "Wull, you're
a smart 'un," nodding his head appraisingly, and gazing at me as though
pondering some problem. Then he muttered, "Yus, the kid's worth it,"
and this time drawing a dagger from his great sea-boot said, "See here,
kiddy, I'll show you a trick worth learning."
Now all this while my conceit had been steadily flattered into
arrogance, for a child knows well enough when he is being admired,
and it was evident to me that for some reason or other Dirk was
pleased and surprised at my prowess. And I was all attention as he
explained the manœuvre. It was simple enough in theory, but difficult
in execution. The idea was to lunge with the right hand, and, as your
opponent seized your wrist, to slip your knife into your left hand
and drive home. The danger was that it left your enemy's knife hand
unguarded, and success was dependent upon swiftness, accuracy, and
complete surprise. Dirk demonstrated the trick to me, and for a long
while we combated there in the woodland till he thought I had learnt my
lesson well enough; and at length thrusting back his weapon he gave a
glance at the sun, and with a gruff farewell left me. He turned after
a few yards and threw back at me, "An' if you try to follow me, I'll
break your back like a stick."
I shouted after him, "I'd knife you first," at which he laughed; but
again he turned and said, "An if you tell a soul you've seen me, even
that precious father of yours, I'll...." but he didn't finish his
threat; for I think he only had one, and he had already used it. He
growled and tramped away. But I didn't follow, for the fellow had a way
of making you see when he was in earnest and when it was safe to play
with him.
For my part I ran back towards the inn eager to put my new skill into
practice and win the knife which I knew my father kept ready for me,
for he had shown it to me once to urge on my endeavour, and the vision
of the clean blue steel was one which I loved to dwell upon.
CHAPTER IV
EBB-TIDE CAVE
If I hadn't been so eager I should have paused long before I did to
reflect that I should be most unlikely to find my father at the inn if
Dirk and his fellows were in the neighbourhood. For, as I have told
you, my father always vanished on these occasions. As it was, the
thought came to me like the sudden arrest of a lasso, drawing me up
short almost with a wrench. I stopped, and with the consideration that
possibly my father didn't know of their presence, as Dirk's apparition
had been a complete surprise to me, I trotted on again a few yards. But
I soon came to another halt, this time because it seemed to me somewhat
ill-judged to rush home and demand an immediate combat. The unusualness
of the thing would make my father suspect some trick, and might put
him on his guard. So I turned about, deciding to possess my soul in
patience till the evening, when our battle would take place as usual,
and then I would have the chance of displaying my newly learnt skill,
and perhaps win the wished-for reward.
Now I think at this time I had three ambitions. The winning of the
knife was one, perhaps the chief one. Next to that I wanted to find
some quite new hiding-place where even my father wouldn't be able to
find me. That he had hiding-places out of my knowledge I was only
too sadly aware, but so far, as well as I knew the coast and the
countryside, I hadn't succeeded in baffling his pursuit. My third great
ambition was to find some underground communication between the shore
and the woodland. I assumed that such a communication existed, and I
explored all the caves and inlets for miles along the coast, but so far
without success. There were long caverns eating far into the cliffs,
some slippery with sea-weed, some above the line of the high tides
where the going was fairly easy; but none gave me the passage I was
seeking.
There were several caves that I particularly suspected of concealing
the desired secret. There was one which I named the Dragon's Mouth;
for, following my father's lead, I gave my own names to all the
landmarks of the place, not being satisfied as a rule with the rather
unimaginative names which custom had christened them with. This cave I
named the Dragon's Mouth because blocking the opening was one huge rock
like the tongue of some colossal monster thrust out through its jaws.
I believed that if only the creature would draw in its tongue I should
find the passage of my desires. Then there was Ebb-Tide Cave opening
into Ebb-Tide Pool. I believe this name was of my father's giving. At
high tide the pool, which was well hidden with a wall of rock, and
invisible from the top of the cliff, which dropped steeply to a level
platform and swelled out into a huge overbrowing arch of granite, was
open to the sea through a twisting channel where a fair-sized boat
might pass, I thought; and many were the dreams I fancied to myself
of the coming and going of secret ships. But at low water the channel
was closed, and so in stormy weather Ebb-Tide Pool was an ideal
bathing-place. At high tide the cave was also in deep water, but dry,
or nearly so, at low tide. But the baffling puzzle of the cave was
that it stopped abruptly after some twenty yards, blankly walled with
two great flattish rocks which looked for all the world like the two
halves of a huge gate. And many a day I spent searching for the secret
of their opening, but never with any hint of success.
There were other inlets too that I tested and examined. Particularly
the few short tunnels that gave on to a sandy bay to the east of
Ebb-Tide Pool. It was here that the fishermen launched their smacks,
and a hut or two clung crazily to nooks in the sloping cliffs. At the
farther horn of the bay was a dilapidated jetty, built originally
of stone, but roughly repaired where the seas had breached it with
makeshift piles and planking, themselves unsteady and decayed. It was
only seldom that the fishermen used it; but I delighted in picturing
to myself wild scenes of its desperate history when the smugglers were
still a power on that coast. However, I discovered nothing in the bay.
I searched east and west; and though at times I thought I had come upon
a further clue, yet it never led to anything. And again and again I
returned to the Dragon's Mouth and Ebb-Tide Cave, which seemed to me
the most dumbly obstinate in refusing to yield their secrets.
This day, having nothing better to do, I set off for Ebb-Tide Pool for
a clamber and a bathe till it should be time to return to the inn. I
didn't go by the directest route, for, true to my father's training, I
made a business of my play just as he made a game of all my education.
Indeed work and play were one thing to me. For if we decided to climb
Dead-Man's Drop or cross the Suck-Foot Marshes the expedition was
always undertaken with some imaginary purpose in view. There was a
message to be delivered, or a sentry to be surprised; and usually we
were ranged against each other, one being set to hinder the other, and
the fun of the game wasn't merely in the climbing, or whatever it might
be, but in evading the hidden enemy. So when left to myself I always
devised some fanciful story to give a colour to my play. The result was
that I scarcely ever made a direct journey, but always skirted this
and rounded that to make believe I was outwitting my foes.
On this day I didn't wander very far from the path, but my route
was somewhat roundabout. And on a sudden I came to an abrupt halt,
listening intently; for once already I had been taken unawares, and I
wasn't intending to be caught again. I had heard a crackling in the
woods. I was distinctly alarmed to see Dirk Stormaway stepping at right
angles across my path, for I knew if he should see me he would believe
I had been tracking him. Accordingly I squeezed up against a tree and
waited for him to go by. He passed behind a thick clump of thorn, but
didn't reappear. I listened for his step, and watched for him; but
there was no sign of him anywhere. I was just going to move on, when
again there was the sound of steps, and once more I grew on to my
protecting tree. I was amazed to see my father following stealthily on
the trail of Dirk. And he too vanished.
Then it occurred to me that it was round here that my father always
managed to baffle my search whenever he hid from me. I had tracked his
lair to within a hundred yards or so, but never to its exact goal.
However, I thought this was no time for further investigation. The air
was tense with alarm for me, and I felt a pang of doubt on my father's
account. If Dirk should catch him following ... I thought he would
either break his back like a stick, or put that famous knife trick of