Devon Boys Part 49

I saw Bigley's eyes flash, and for a moment I thought that he was going to say something harsh, and that we were going to have a quarrel through Bob Chowne's propensity for saying disagreeable things; but just then I happened to turn my head and saw a boat coming round the western corner of the entrance to the Gap.

"Why, there's father!" I cried. "Where can he have been!"

That exclamation changed the conversation from what was a terribly touchy point with Bigley, who always felt it acutely if anyone hinted that his father indulged in smuggling.

"I know," said Bob Chowne, changing his attack so that it was directed upon me. "Well, if my father was so precious selfish as to get a boat and go out fis.h.i.+ng without me, I should kick up a row."

"Why, you are always making rows without," I said testily. "My father has not been fis.h.i.+ng, I'm sure."

"There he goes again," cried Bob in an ill-used tone. "That's Sep Duncan all over. I say, Big, he was trying to pick a quarrel with me up on the cliff when you came, and I wouldn't. Now he's at it again."

"Well, I sha'n't stop to quarrel now," I replied. "Come on down and meet father."

We were a good three hundred feet above the sh.o.r.e when I spoke, and starting off the others joined me, and we went down over the crumbling slates and then past the pebble ridge to where the little river bubbled up again through the stones before it reached the sea, and then in and out among the rocks, to stand and wait till my father rowed in.

"Ah, boys," he cried, as the boat grounded, and we dragged it up over a smooth patch of sand, "you are just in time to help."

"Been fis.h.i.+ng, father?" I said.

"No; only on a little bit of investigation along the coast; but I found I had not time as it was drill day. There, make the boat fast to the buoy line, and let's get up to the mine, and we'll all go this afternoon when the drill's over."

"This afternoon?" I said eagerly.

"Yes; the weather's lovely and warm, and you fellows can row me."

I felt ready to toss up my hat and cheer, and I saw that Bigley was ready to do the same; but we both felt that we were getting too old, so we refrained.

"I'm afraid I can't go, Captain Duncan," said Bob in an ill-used way.

"My father will be at home expecting me."

"No, he will not, Bob," said my father smiling; "he will not be back from Barnstaple till quite late. Come along, my lad, and we'll have some lunch, and then begin drill. Had Sam started with the basket, Sep?"

"No, father," I replied; "but I saw Kicksey packing it when I came away."

"Sure to be there," said my father; and he led the way up the Gap with Bigley, to whom he always made a great point of being kind, partly because he was my old companion, and partly, as I thought, because he wanted to smooth away any ill feeling, and to make up for the break between us that kept threatening to come.

This upset Bob, who hung back and began to growl about not being sure he could stop to drill, and thought that, as we reached the end of the cliff path, he ought to go now, and altogether he required a great deal of coaxing to get him along, or rather he professed to want a great deal, till we reached the mine, where all was going on just as of old, the wheel turning, the water splas.h.i.+ng, furnace roaring, and the pump keeping on its regular thump.

Old Sam was standing at the counting-house door with a big basket, the one he always brought over, filled with provisions for our use, as so much time was spent at the mine; and as my father pulled out a big key, Sam took in the basket, cleared the table, and threw over it a white cloth, upon which he spread the provisions.

For a few minutes after we had sat down--Bob Chowne having to be fetched in, after sliding off so that he might be fetched back--we could not eat much for feasting our eyes on the bright swords and pistols; but young appet.i.tes would have their way, and we were soon eating heartily till the meat pasty and custard and cream were completely destroyed.

"A very bold attack," said my father smiling. "Now that ought to make muscle. Off with your coats, my lads, and roll up your sleeves."

As he spoke he went to the door, and blew an old silver boatswain's whistle, when work was dropped, and the men came running up quickly from furnace, and out of the pit and stone-breaking sheds, till ten stout work-stained fellows stood in a row, showing the effect of the drill and discipline already brought to bear.

"Like the old days on the quarter-deck," said my father to Bob Chowne.

"Now, Sep, serve out the arms."

I had done this several times before, and rapidly handed to each man his cutla.s.s and belt, which was as quickly buckled on. Then one each was given to Bob Chowne and Bigley, and I was left without.

"Humph, twelve," said my father counting, as he saw me unarmed. "You can take that new sword, Sep."

I could not help feeling pleased, for this was the officer's sword which had come down with the others; and as I buckled on the lion-headed belt I had hard work to keep from glancing at Bob Chowne, who, I knew, would feel disgusted.

There was no time wasted, for my father at these drills kept up his old sea-going officer ways; and in a few minutes we were formed into two lines before him, opened out, proved distance with our swords, so as to have plenty of room, and not be likely to cut each other; and there for a good hour the sun flashed on the blades, as the sword exercise was gone through, with its cuts, points, and guards, the men taking to it eagerly as a pleasant change from the drudgery of the mine, and showing no little proficiency already.

"There," said my father at last, after the final order to sheathe swords had been given. "Break off. No pistol practice to-day. Your hands will be unsteady."

"Always the way!" I heard Bob Chowne grumble. "I stopped on purpose to have a bit of pistol-shooting, and now there's none. See if I'd have stayed if I had known."

I had to run to the door of the great stone-built counting-house and receive the swords as the men filed up, and for the next ten minutes I was busy hanging all in their places.

When I had finished the men had all gone back to their work, and after a look round, my father said a few words to a big black-looking Cornishman, who had lately been selected as foreman from his experience about mines, locked up the counting-house, and turned to us.

"Now, boys," he said, "we'll go back to the boat."

Bob Chowne's lips parted to say that he could not stop; but he had not the heart to speak the words, and we went back to the beach, to enter upon an adventure that proved rather startling to us all, and had a sequel that was more startling, and perhaps more unpleasant still.

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE.

WE LOSE OUR BOAT.

"We're going to take the boat again, Mrs Bonnet," said my father, as we pa.s.sed Uggleston's cottage.

"Oh, I'm sure master would say you're welcome, sir," said the rosy-faced old lady. "It's a beautiful afternoon for a row."

Ten minutes after we were well afloat, and Bigley and I were pulling, making the water patter under the prow of the boat, as it rose and fell on the beautiful clear sea. Below us were the rocks, which could be seen far enough down, all draped with the brown and golden-looking weed; and we felt as if it was a shame not to have a line over the side for pollack or mackerel on such a lovely afternoon. But there was to be no fis.h.i.+ng, for my father evidently had some serious object in hand, telling us how to pull so as to keep regularly along at a certain distance from the mighty wall of rock that was on our left till, about a mile from the Gap, where there were a great deal of piled-up stone in huge fragments that had fallen from the cliff, he suddenly told Bigley to easy, and me to row. Then both together, with the result that we pulled right into a little bay where the cliff not only seemed to go up perpendicularly, but to overhang, while in one place at the bottom a dark patch or two showed where caves ran right in.

As we neared the sh.o.r.e he bade us cease rowing, and taking one of the oars he threw it over the stern, and sculled the boat in and out among the rocks that were half covered by the sea, threading his way carefully, and finally beaching her on a soft patch of sand.

We all leaped out, and the little anchor was thrown ash.o.r.e to keep the boat safe while we went away.

"For neither of you will care to be boat-keeper," said my father smiling.

"What are you going to do?" I asked as we walked up together.

"Don't ask questions, my boy," he replied quietly. "If I tell you, of course you cannot, without seeming mysterious, refuse to tell your companions, and I do not care to say much at present. It does not matter, but I prefer not to talk."

We walked up straight to the caves, which were very beautiful, covered as their mouths were with ivy and ferns, while over each a perfect sheet of dripping rain fell like a screen and threatened to soak anyone who attempted to enter.

We did not attempt it, for my father led us away to the west, and soon after, hammer in hand, he was examining the cliff-face and the various blocks of stone that had fallen down in days gone by.

We walked on for a time, but it soon became too monotonous, and we took to something to amuse ourselves, to my father's great satisfaction, for he evidently now preferred to be alone.

We did not watch him, but to me it seemed evident enough that he was searching for minerals, of which he believed that he had seen some trace.