Cursed be the treasure
and rising in the cave waited a full two minutes before returning.
I climbed back to Dirk and said, "See, am I puffed? I tell you...."
But now he had grasped my meaning.
"Come," he said excitedly, "show me."
I pointed to the spot, and limping to the edge he dived. He didn't
reappear. And hiding my clothes, for I didn't want the runners to have
them, I plunged after Dirk, and rose almost beside him in the weedy
water.
"This way," I said, and swam for the side; and soon we were both
clinging there, blowing vigorously.
Between gasps he told me of his adventures, and I heard how the
smugglers had been surprised. Their sentry had been seized and gagged,
and so they hadn't been warned of the King's frigate which had appeared
off the coast. Some one had betrayed them.
"Not my dad," I said.
"No, not him, laddie," said Dirk. "He gave us the first warning, but it
was too late."
"Where is he?" I asked.
"Oh, he's vanished."
"Yes," I said, trusting my father's resources at evasion.
It was some while later when we heard voices in the cave, and I showed
Dirk the cranny where he might peep through. Suddenly he uttered a
great oath.
"What?" I whispered.
"Shhh!"
Then came a tremendous echoing crash, and the sound of cheering.
When all was quiet again he told me. He had seen the King's Man, the
fellow who had betrayed them. "An' it was right what I was told," he
said. "He had a burn across his hand, sonny. But it wasn't your dad,"
he added as I gave a little cry. "I saw his face, an' he's showed them
the gates an' how they worked, blast him!"
"How do they work?" I asked.
"They'll never work no more," was all he answered.
* * * * *
It was some days before the coast was clear. And all the while I
carried food surreptitiously to Dirk, stuffing it into the cranny from
Ebb-Tide Cave. My father had quite established himself with the runners
when I first arrived back at the inn. I told him my secret, and he
patted me affectionately on the head.
"Always make friends, Tommy," he said.
But he only ventured once down to Ebb-Tide Cave, and that was with a
party of runners who went to superintend the destruction of the old
haunt. I went too, and saw the great gates wide. The two rocks had
been perfectly balanced against each other, and as one sank down into
the earth it drew the other up into the roof by a stout steel cable.
It was while I was with Dirk that the runners had hacked the cable
through, and the huge half of rock that should have been poised above
had crashed down, and now lay along the passage. But the tunnel which
my father had expected to find, opening into the side of the cave wall,
wasn't there. And somehow I think he had lost interest in the place,
for he questioned me little enough of the cave I had discovered; and he
seemed uneasy too, barring our door strongly at night, and waking at
the least scratch.
When the runners at length gave up the search, Dirk came from his
hiding-place. In the distance the frigate was fading from sight. I
shall never forget that gaunt, dripping figure, slowly dragging himself
up the cliff because of the pain at his damaged foot, his clothes
clinging to his limbs and oozing with green weed, his long hair with
the pig-tail all undone drooping flat down his neck and over his sunken
cheeks. The picture still haunts me in my dreams; and I see him as he
climbed to a ledge of rock, and slowly turned his face towards the sea,
his eyes, still heavy from the long darkness, peering with evil hate at
the vanishing ship that was carrying away his mates to their doom. His
teeth gnashed with impotent rage, and he tottered to his feet and shook
one terrible fist at the frigate, and cried a bitter curse on the spy
who had betrayed his comrades. Then laughing brokenly he turned to me,
and clambered on up the cliff, saying, "But I saw him, kiddy; I know
him; an' I'll follow him to the end of the world, but I'll have his
heart's blood."
I was silent, and the giant continued his painful ascent. And breaking
from a snarling mutter he said to me, stopping on his path, "See here,
kiddy, you don't know what hate means, I dessay. But it means just
this: I've made my pile; I can rest an' be comfortable, an' have my
seat by the fire an' the drink at my hand; but I'll give every piece
I've gathered to hunt that devil to earth. I'll get him. I'll get him."
At the top of the cliff he hurled forth his last threat, as the white
square sails faded into the misty air, then slowly stumbled back
with me to the inn. And as I walked at his side I thought I began to
understand why one man should hunt another over the world. I knew
something of the life of the hunted; now for the first time I saw the
hunter giving cry. And my father.... But I couldn't imagine my father
as a spy and a betrayer. And then the old story of the Mad Captain came
back to me. But neither could I see my father as one who had left his
men to perish all alone. What was the secret of his flight?
At the inn my father was ready for the road again.
"Come Tommy," he said, "we must tramp."
I held out my hand to Dirk. "Good-bye," I said.
He took my little hand in both his. "Good-bye, kiddy," he said kindly
enough. "You're a good brat. You've saved my life; an' maybe I'll do
the same for you one day."
He nodded curtly to my father, and rolled into the inn.
But we two plunged into the woodland and travelled far that night, and
with the morning struck the highway, and begging a lift of a carter
bound for market were soon jolting along the road, fast asleep.
CHAPTER VII
THE MANUSCRIPT
We must have been wandering for a week or more, bearing northwards all
the while, before we halted for a few days at a village inn: the _Snow
Man_ I believe it was called. It seemed to me as though our life of
hardships had begun afresh, for as far as possible we kept to woods
and byways where there was shelter and hiding. And yet it was on this
journey that my father gave me my first lessons with the pistol; and
I think he found me an eager pupil. As with the knife, he promised
me a pistol of my own when I became expert enough to merit one, and
with this bait to lure on my endeavour I practised sedulously with the
weapon every morning, for our travelling was done mostly at night.
My father soon regained all his buoyancy and cheerfulness, and
questioned me eagerly about my discovery of the cave. "What are we to
call it?" he cut me short almost at the beginning of my narrative. I
had my answer ready, for this matter of naming places had become almost
a second nature with me; and I said, "Drift-Wood Cavern," and added,
"and the passage you showed me is the Smugglers' Tunnel."
"Very well," he agreed. "And now tell me your story, Tommy."
I told him with as much coherence as his constant questionings would
permit, for he was so eager to learn all about my find that he
continually interrupted me with questions of his own, running on ahead
of me as it were, and was rather disappointed when my recital came to
an abrupt finish.
"But surely, Tommy," he said, "you found where it went?"
"I don't know any more," I declared.
"Why, it might lead anywhere," he insisted with fervour. "It might go
for miles. It must be full of secrets, Tommy, and hidden treasures,
and.... Why didn't you...."
"Well, the runners...." I began in my defence, meaning to say that the
less time I spent there the better while the runners were still hunting
for Dirk; but he cut in, saying:
"Ah, the runners; yes. If it hadn't been for the runners, Tommy, I
should have had the secret out of it by now."
This surprised me, for as soon as the soldiers had gone my father had
packed up his kit and vanished too. So I asked, "Why didn't you stay
then, daddy?"
He looked at me more sharply than usual, for it wasn't my custom to
question him like this; and at the moment his answer seemed a strange
one, for after a pause he suddenly exclaimed, "By gad, Tommy, you're
quite a little man! Soon be calling me father."
"No, daddy, no," I protested, for somehow the colder title didn't seem
to suit our relationship. I put up my arms and kissed him to show I
wasn't beyond that yet, though I was growing rapidly in these days; and
I think the sentimental little scene pleased him.
"Well, well!" he said affectionately, patting my cheek.
I was quiet, for he hadn't answered my question. He seemed to be
meditating something, and twice he was about to speak; but eyeing me
askance he held his peace. And it wasn't until we were installed at the
_Snow Man_ some days later that the answer came, and then in a strange
manner.
As at the _Dolphin_ we shared an upstairs room, and I noticed that my
father's uneasiness hadn't lessened with our flight, though he was
cheerful enough. Indeed I have scarcely ever known him otherwise than
cheerful, though now I can realize something of the harrowing anxiety
that must have been his almost daily portion. We hadn't been alone
in our room for half a minute before he began examining the locks
and bolts of the door and window, sounding the walls, peering into
cupboards and behind pictures, and feeling up the chimney. Later he
tested the possibility of climbing down the wall outside the window,
which was well hidden from the road. He managed it, but with great
difficulty, and that seemed to set him more at ease. But chiefly I
noticed how late he sat up at nights by his reading-lamp; and as there
was no screen in the room I was able to see something of what he was
doing, though he always sat with his back to me, shielding me from
the light as well as he could. But I could see him turning pages, and
tracing lines with his pencil, sometimes leaning back with the pencil
between his teeth, thinking.
As a rule, however, I was tired enough not to be over curious, soon
dropping off to sleep, and only occasionally waking to see him still at
his task, or to feel him creeping carefully into bed beside me so as
not to wake me up.
But about the third night, if I remember rightly, I awoke to find him
kneeling at my side, gazing so intently at me that it seemed as though
his very gaze had awakened me. I opened my eyes full upon him and
didn't move, and for his part he remained looking not so much at me as
at something deep within me which he was dumbly questioning. Then his
widened pupils contracted, and with a flitting smile as though he were
awakening to reality he said, "You see, Tommy, it's like this. Who put
the smugglers on my track, scenting round me as though I was harming
them? And who was it betrayed those two last year? And why?" His voice
had a strange ring in it which I hadn't heard before. "Why, Tommy why?"
he added more excitedly, and seemed to be waiting for an answer.
Waking like that in the dead of night it all seemed very queer to me;
for to see my father's eyes bent upon me so, and to hear his "Why,
Tommy, why?" was somehow vaguely troubling. The clothes across my chest
felt very heavy all at once, and my limbs seemed bound to the bed; for
there was something that held me there and wouldn't let me move. A kind
of spell was upon me, and I felt I wanted to scream. And then my father
rose and began pacing the room, and the horrid charm snapped. I gave a
great gulp, and realized I had been holding my breath all the while;
and the numbness fell from my limbs, and they were mine once more to
move as I would.
My father came to a halt and sat on the bed beside me. I was quite
awake now and understood something of his drift. He began to speak
again, but his tone was calmer:
"One way of ridding yourself of an enemy, Tommy, is to set another
on his track. When you can't fight your own battles, perhaps if you