CHAPTER IX WHAT HAPPENED AT CAP'N JACK'S HOUSE--TAMSIN'S CONFESSION, AND THE SMUGGLERS' PLANS

As I looked into Tamsin Truscott's eyes, I could not help thinking what a good-looking maid she was. I was sure she spoke earnestly, too. Evidently she regarded me as different from the gang of men of which her father was captain, and wanted to know the reason of my coming among them.

Now I have before said I have never regarded myself as a clever man—none of my race have ever been. Honest men the Penningtons have always been; brave men, too, although I, perhaps, am not the man to say it, but not men who understand things quickly. Often after I have had dealings with people, it has come to my mind what I might have said and done, how I might have left some questions unanswered while others I could have answered differently. Lawyer Trefry once told me I should never get a living with my brains; I had too much body, he said. I am not ashamed to say this. Nay, I have no faith in men who are clever enough to give lying answers instead of true ones. Give me a man who speaks out straight, and who knows nothing of crooked ways. The men that the country wants are not clever, scheming men, who wriggle out of difficulties by underhanded ways, but those who see only the truth, and speak it, and fight for it if needs be. I am glad I had a fair amount of schooling, as becomes one who ought to have been the squire of a parish, but I am more thankful because I stand six feet four inches in my stockings, and measured forty-six inches around the naked chest even at twenty-one, and that I know next to nothing of sickness or bodily pain. But more than everything, I am proud that although I have been badly treated I have told no lies in order that truth may prevail, neither do I remember striking an unfair blow. No doubt, I shall have many things to answer for on the Judgment Day, but I believe God will reckon to my account the fact that I tried to fight fairly when sorely tempted to do otherwise.

I say this, because it may seem to many that I was foolish in telling Tamsin Truscott the truth about myself. But as I said just now, I am not clever at answering people, neither could I frame answers to her questions which would hide the truth from her. Before we had been talking ten minutes I had told her all about myself, except my love for Naomi. I dared not speak about that, for I felt I was not worthy to speak of her, whose life was far removed from unlawful men and their ways. Moreover I could not bear that the secret of my heart should be known. It should be first told to the one who only had a right to hear it, even although she should refuse that which I offered her.

"And so," said Tamsin, "my father has promised that you shall win enough money to buy Pennington if you will work with him."

"That he has," was my reply.

"And do you know the kind of life he lives?"

"I have heard," I replied.

"And would you feel happy, Jasper Pennington, if you bought back your home, got by such means?"

"As for that," I replied, for I did not feel comfortable under her words, "what harm is there in smuggling? I know of several parsons who buy smuggled goods."

"If smuggling were all!" she said, significantly.

"But is it not all?" I queried. "Your father told me that this was all he required."

"Do you think you could gain enough by smuggling? Bill Lurgy has been with my father for years; does he look like one who could buy back Pennington?"

"He is but a paid man," I replied. "Your father has promised that I shall have shares in his profits."

A look of scorn flashed from her eyes, which I could not understand, and she seemed to be about to say some words which caused her much feeling, when her eyes looked straight into mine, and I saw the blood course up into her face, until her very brow became crimson. Her hands trembled, too, while her lips twitched so that she was unable to speak.

Now, I could not understand this, especially as a few seconds before she had been so eager to talk.

"Would you advise me to ask your father to release me of my promise, then?" I asked. "I cannot go at once without his consent, for I have given my word I will stay with him for one month."

For answer she caught my hands eagerly. "No, no, stay!" she said. "I will see to it that you are fairly treated. You must not go away!"

This puzzled me much, but I had no time to ask her what she meant, for just then her father and several of his men came into the room.

There was great carousing that night at Cap'n Jack's house. A great deal of grog was drunk, and many strange things said, and yet I could not help feeling that a kind of reserve was upon the party. I noticed that when some story was being told Cap'n Jack coughed, whereupon the eyes of the story-teller were turned upon me, and the yarn remained unfinished. I could see, too, that many of the men did not like me, and I grew uneasy at the ugly looks they gave me. Moreover, I could not help remembering that in spite of all I was a Pennington, and was no fit company for such as they. And yet I could not escape, for I was hemmed in on every side.

At the end of a month I began to feel more at home among my surroundings, and up to that time was not asked to do anything particularly objectionable. It is true I helped to bring several cargoes of smuggled goods ashore, but that did not trouble me. Moreover, I learnt many things about the coast of which I had hitherto been ignorant. At the end of two months I knew the coast from Gurnard's Head to Kynance Cove, and had also spent a good deal of time in learning navigation, which Cap'n Jack assured me would be essential to my getting back Pennington. I had no rupture with any of the men, and yet I saw they did not like me. Especially did Israel Barnicoat regard me with a great deal of disfavour. I thought at the time that he was jealous of the favour which Cap'n Jack showed me, for I knew no other reason why he should dislike me. It was true that until I came he was regarded as the strongest man in Cap'n Jack's gang, and was angry when he heard some one say that I could play with two such as he.

"I would like to try a hitch with you, Squire," he said one day, when Cap'n Jack had been chaffing him.

We were standing on the little green outside the Cap'n's house, and several of us were together. I did not want to wrestle with him, for it is ill playing a game of strength with a man who cannot keep his temper. So I told him I would rather let him be regarded as the strongest man that Cap'n Jack had. Whereupon he swore loudly and called me a coward, so that I was obliged to accept his challenge. I had no sooner thrown off my coat than Tamsin came to the door, and when Israel saw her his arms became hard, and a strange light shone from his eyes.

"Throw off your shoes, Israel," I said. "We won't go in for kicking like the up-country fellows, let's play like true Cornish lads."

Then I took off my heavy boots, and he did likewise, although I could see he was not pleased. After that I waited quietly and let him get his hitch on me first. But he was no match for me; try as he would, he could not throw me, although he could see I did not put forth my strength. Then, when I had let him do his utmost, I slipped from his grasp, put my loins under his body, and threw him on the sward.

"Bravo!" cried Tamsin. "Ah, Israel, you are but a baby in his hands," and she laughed gleefully.

"It was a coward's throw," shouted Israel. "He struck me in the wind with his knee—a coward's kick!"

"Coward!" I cried. "Nay, Israel Barnicoat, I could play with two such as you. Let your brother come with you, and I'll throw you both."

With that Micah Barnicoat came up, and both together they leaped upon me; but I caught them like I have seen the schoolmaster at Tregorny catch two boys, and knocked their heads together; then with a little trick I laid them both on the sward.

I do not write this boastingly, because I had nothing to do but to use the strength which God gave me. I could not help it that I came of a large-boned, strong race. My forefathers had been mighty men, and although I am told I am far smaller and weaker than they, Israel Barnicoat and his brother seemed like children in my hands. Neither would I have written this save that it has to do with the story of my life, which I am trying to tell truthfully, although, I am afraid, with but little skill.

Israel looked at me more evilly than ever as he rose to his feet, but he said no word, even though the men laughed loudly, and Tamsin rejoiced at my success. I liked it not, however, when that same evening I saw Israel eagerly talking with a group of men, each of whom held their peace as I came up. This set me thinking, and finally a conviction laid hold of me that Israel was my enemy, and that he would do me evil if he had the chance.

After I had gone to bed that night I heard the sound of voices in the garden, and presently, as if by arrangement, Cap'n Jack went to them.

"Where's the Squire?" I heard Israel Barnicoat say—they had called me Squire from the first.

"Been in bed more'n an hour," was the reply.

"Look 'ere, Cap'n Jack," said Israel; "we want to spaik plain. Why is he to be put afore we? Here 'ee es, livin' at your 'ouse as ef 'ee was yer son. He ain't got to do no dirty work. Oal we want es fair play. Laive 'ee do loustrin' jobs same as we do."

"Anything else?" asked Cap'n Jack.

"I do'ant bleeve in makin' fish o' waun and flesh of t'other. All alike, I zay."

"Be I cap'n?" asked Cap'n Jack.

"Iss, you be; but we chaps 'ave got our rights, tha's wot I zay. Wot's ee more'n we?"

"Be I a fool, Israel Barnicoat?" asked Cap'n Jack. "Caan't I zee wot's good fur us oal? He's larnin' navigation—wot fur? Ain't us got a ship that 'll need navigation? We want a man as knaws figgers an's got schoolin'; 'ave you got et? We want somebody as can play the genleman; can you do et? Billy Coad es too ould to taake command ov the Flyin' Swan much longer; well, wot then? Who's to do et? You knaw we caan't 'ford to 'ave outsiders. 'Sides, ef 'ee once gits in weth we—well, we've got un, ain't us?"

"Well, wot then?"

"He'll buy back Pennington."

"Wot's the use o' that to we?"

"Be 'ee a fool, Israel Barnicoat? Caan't 'ee zee that eff he's one o' we, and he gits back his rights, that we'm as safe as eggs, an' shell allays have a squire an' a magistrate on our side? Tha's wot I be humourin' 'im for. I do'ant want to drive un away fust thing."

A good deal of murmuring followed this, some of the men evidently agreeing with their captain, others feeling with Israel that I had had too many favours shown me. Then they talked too low for me to hear, except now and then fragments of sentences about the "queer-coloured flag on the Flying Swan," and "Billy Coad makin' many a man walk the plank."

All this opened my eyes to many things which had not hitherto been plain to me, and I listened more eagerly than ever, in order to understand their plans concerning me; but I could make nothing out of the orders which Cap'n Jack was giving. At last, just before they left him, one asked a question in a low voice: "When is the Flying Swan expected?"

"A couple ov months, sonny. We must humour un a bit, and git un in our ways. We ca'ant 'ford to be fullish jist now."

Presently they all left with the exception of Israel Barnicoat, who spoke to Cap'n Jack eagerly.

"'Tes oal very well to talk, Cap'n," he said, "but 'ee's stailin' away Tamsin from me."

"Did you ever 'ave Tamsin to stail, sonny?" asked the Cap'n.

"Well, I 'ad a chance at wawn time, but now she's tooked on weth he. Mind, Cap'n, ef he do git Tamsin ther'll be somebody missin'!"

"Doan't be a fool, Israel," replied Cap'n Jack. "Go away 'ome, sonny, and be ready for yer work in the mornin'."

"But mind, Cap'n, the Squire must obey oarders saame as we, else ther'll be mutiny."

"Well, 'ee shell, ther' now. Good-night, Israel; good-night, sonny, and by the blessing of Providence you'll be a rich man yet."

I turned over all this many times in my mind, and, as may be imagined, I was sore driven what to think. Up till now I had not been asked, beyond smuggling, to do anything unlawful, but now I saw that I was intended for wild work. Moreover, I knew not how to get out of it, for Cap'n Jack had, in a way, got me in his power. I had heard of several who had once belonged to his gang, and who had come to an untimely end, and this not by means of the law, but by unknown ways. I also called to mind one of his stories concerning one Moses Rowse, who, because he wanted to "turn religious," was found on the beach one day with his head broken, while another went away from home and never came back again.

All this, I say, wrought upon me strangely—so much so that I did not sleep that night, and I formed many plans as to how I might escape, until my brain was weary.

The next day I noticed that Cap'n Jack was eagerly looking at the sea, as though he saw something of interest, although I, who looked in the direction toward which his eyes were turned, could see nothing.

"I reckon ther'll be some work to-night, Jasper, my sonny," he remarked, after looking steadily a long time. "It do come dark early thaise November days, an' it'll be a baisly muggy night to-night, tha's wot 't'll be. I must go down to the cove and zee the booys."

When he was gone Tamsin came to me.

"What are you so stand-offish for?" she asked.

I did not reply, for my heart was sad.

"And what did you think of the talk between father and the men last night?" she asked.

"What do you know about it?" I asked.

"I know you were listening," she replied; "but never mind, it's all safe with me; and, Jasper, you mustn't think that I care about Israel Barnicoat, I don't like un a bit."

"He's the strongest man in your father's gang," I said.

"No, Jasper, he's no man at all when you are near. How could I look on Israel Barnicoat now I've seen you?" She said this with a sob, and then I knew that Tamsin Truscott loved me. She caught my great brown hand and kissed it. "Jasper," she cried, "I know where father keeps his money, love me, and I will get it for you; more than enough to buy back Pennington. No one knows how rich father is. I know, I know!"

The maid spoke like one demented, and, for the moment, I knew not how to answer her. Not that I despised her for saying what always ought to be said by the man, for I believe that her heart was as clean as a wind-swept sky. For a moment, too, wild, unnatural thoughts came into my mind which I will not here set down. But even as they came the picture of Naomi's face came before me, and they departed with the swiftness of lightning. For I have found this to be true: a true love ever destroys baser and poorer loves. Let a man love truly a true, pure woman, and all womanhood is sacred to him. And because I loved Naomi truly no other love could come into my life.

So I did not reply to Tamsin's words, but walked away toward the cove instead. Still her words had their effect—they determined me to leave Cap'n Jack's gang as soon as possible. I saw now that it would be wrong to stay at Kynance Cove, wrong to Tamsin, wrong to myself. It would be unworthy of my love for Naomi. For two months I had not realised what lay before me, now I understood. How could I go to her with words of love upon my lips, when I sought to win back the home of my fathers by such means as Cap'n Jack hinted in his talk with his followers the night before? And so again and again I planned how I might get away.

Early in the afternoon Cap'n Jack came to me. "I want us to crake a bit, sonny," he said. I did not reply, but I sat down near him in the open chimney.

"It's time we come to bisness," he said. "You've bin loppin' 'bout for two months, doin' nothin' much. Well, the booys be jillus, Jasper, and they want things clear."

"I've done all you've asked me," I replied.

"Iss, so you 'ave, sonny, but I want to maake a man ov 'ee. I've got a purty boat, Jasper, called The Flying Swan. She'll be 'ome soon from what I 'ope will be a prosperous voyage. I want you to go on 'er as a soart of maate, to taake command laater on."

"What do you mean?" I asked. "What is this Flying Swan of which you are the owner? Is she a trading vessel? What does she carry? Besides, why choose me? I know nothing about sea life."

"I'll tell 'ee," he said. "The Flyin' Swan is used for smugglin' on a biggish scale. She's manned by as braave a lot of chaps as ever clained the seams of a deck. Her cap'n es Billy Coad, a man you may 'ave 'eer'd on, and wawn you would like to knaw. A man of rare piety, Jasper. He and me be the main owners, by the blessin' of Providence. Ah, it would do yer 'art good to hear 'im give his Christian experience."

"Smuggling on a biggish scale. What do you mean by that?" I asked.

"Well, dailin' direct weth the furrin' poarts, and at times, when Billy do see a vessel in the open say, wot do carry the flag of a Papist country, say the Spanish, well, I doan't deny—but there."

"You mean that the Flying Swan is but little better than a pirate ship."

"Never call things by ugly naames," replied Cap'n Jack; "besides, I do look upon this as your main chance of buyin' back Pennington."

"Suppose I refuse?" I suggested.

"You wa'ant refuse, sonny."

"Why not?"

"Well, twudden pay 'ee. We doan't never have that sort wi' we. I'm a man of paice, I be; but thaise be loanely paarts, my sonny. Nearer than Lezard Town ther's 'ardly a 'ouse. You wudden be missed much."

"But suppose I were to leave you?"

"Laive us; no, sonny, you ca'ant do that now. You knaw too much."

"How can you keep me? Suppose I were to leave the house now, ay, leave the county, who could stop me?"

"I could, sonny. Do you think I'm a cheeld? I've got the county ringed—I've got men everywhere. Cap'n Jack Truscott's gang is a big affair, my son, an' I telly this, ef you tried to git away to-night you'd be a dead man afore to-morrow, for oal I'm a man of paice, and send presents to the passon in place of tithes; I doan't stand no nonsense, mind that, my son."

His white eyes shone with a strange light, and I knew he had his fears about my loyalty.

"The truth es, Jasper," went on Cap'n Jack, "you've come wi' we, and wi' we you must stay; that es, till you git 'nough to buy back Pennington. Aw, aw!"

"And if I do?"

"I shell 'ave a squire for my friend, and—well, you'll still be one o' we. You see, my sonny, we've got many ways o' doin' things, an' when I once gits 'old ov a chap, well, I sticks. But theer, sonny, wot's the use ov angry words. I'm a paicable man, and wen you knaw us better, you'll knaw 'ow we stick to aich other through thick and thin. I like 'ee, Jasper, an' I've got need ov 'ee. A strong fella you be—Israel Barnicoat and his brother Micah was just like little babbies to 'ee. A schullard, too, and knaw figgers. Iss, a year on the Flyin' Swan on an expedishan I'm a thinkin' on will buy back Pennington, and then, well, we shall see, Jasper. Why shudden I be the squire's father-in-law, eh, sonny? An' Tamsin es a grand maid, ed'n she then?"

Slowly my mind grasped his meaning, but I did not speak.

"Still, tho' you be a fav'rite ov mine, Jasper, the booys be jillus, that ev it. An' ther's a bit of work on to-night, sonny. There's a craft a few miles out, an' to-night will be baisly and black. Well, the booys insist on your takin' our ould mare, an' tyin' a lantern on to her neck, an' leadin' 'er on the cliff toward the Lizard. It'll do thou'll mare good, and be a light to the vessel."

"Such a light would lure her on to the rocks!" I cried.

"Wud et, Jasper? Well, some wud blaame Providence for these things. But it must be done."

"And suppose the Preventive men see me?"

"Wot be a couple of sich chaps to you? You could knack their 'eads together like you ded by Micah and Israel."

"And if I refuse?"

He looked at me steadily for a minute with his white eyes gleaming strangely in the firelight; then he said, slowly, "Ef you refuse this time, my sonny, you'll never refuse no more in this world."

All the same I made up my mind that I would escape from Cap'n Jack's gang that very night, and that I would take no part in luring a vessel on to destruction.

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