messenger from Dorchester, and brought printed notices for fixing to the
shutters of the Why Not? and to the church door, which said that in a
week's time the bailiff of the duchy of Cornwall would visit Moonfleet.
This bailiff was an important person, and his visits stood as events in
village history. Once in five years he made a perambulation, or journey,
through the whole duchy, inspecting all the Royal property, and arranging
for new leases. His visits to Moonfleet were generally short enough, for
owing to the Mohunes owning all the land, the only duchy estate there was
the Why Not? and the only duty of the bailiff to renew that five-year
lease, under which Blocks had held the inn, father and son, for
generations. But for all that, the business was not performed without
ceremony, for there was a solemn show of putting up the lease of the inn
to the highest bidder, though it was well understood that no one except
Elzevir would make an offer.

So one morning, a week later, I went up to the top end of the village
to watch for the bailiff's postchaise, and about eleven of the forenoon
saw it coming down the hill with four horses and two postillions.
Presently it came past, and I saw there were two men in it--a clerk
sitting with his back to the horses, and in the seat opposite a little
man in a periwig, whom I took for the bailiff. Then I ran down to my
aunt's house, for Elzevir had asked me to beg one of her best winter
candles for a purpose which I will explain presently. I had not seen
Aunt Jane, except in church, since the day that she dismissed me, but
she was no stiffer than usual, and gave me the candle readily enough.
'There,' she said, 'take it, and I wish it may bring light into your
dark heart, and show you what a wicked thing it is to leave your own
kith and kin and go to dwell in a tavern.' I was for saying that it was
kith and kin that left me, and not I them; and as for living in a
tavern, it was better to live there than nowhere at all, as she would
wish me to do in turning me out of her house; but did not, and only
thanked her for the candle, and was off.

When I came to the inn, there was the postchaise in front of the door,
the horses being led away to bait, and a little group of villagers
standing round; for though the auction of the Why Not? was in itself a
trite thing with a foregone conclusion, yet the bailiff's visit always
stirred some show of interest. There were a few children with their noses
flattened against the windows of the parlour, and inside were Mr. Bailiff
and Mr. Clerk hard at work on their dinner. Mr. Bailiff, who was, as I
guessed, the little man in the periwig, sat at the top of the table, and
Mr. Clerk sat at the bottom, and on chairs were placed their hats, and
travelling-cloaks, and bundles of papers tied together with green tape.
You may be sure that Elzevir had a good dinner for them, with hot rabbit
pie and cold round of brawn, and a piece of blue vinny, which Mr. Bailiff
ate heartily, but his clerk would not touch, saying he had as lief chew
soap. There was also a bottle of Ararat milk, and a flagon of ale, for we
were afraid to set French wines before them, lest they should fall to
wondering how they were come by.

Elzevir took the candle, chiding me a little for being late, and set it
in a brass candlestick in the middle of the table. Then Mr. Clerk takes a
little rule from his pocket, measures an inch down on the candle, sticks
into the grease at that point a scarf-pin with an onyx head that Elzevir
lent him, and lights the wick. Now the reason of this was, that the
custom ran in Moonfleet when either land or lease was put up to bidding,
to stick a pin in a candle; and so long as the pin held firm, it was open
to any to make a better offer, but when the flame burnt down and the pin
fell out, then land or lease fell to the last bidder. So after dinner was
over and the table cleared, Mr. Clerk takes out a roll of papers and
reads a legal description of the Why Not?, calling it the Mohune Arms, an
excellent messuage or tenement now used as a tavern, and speaking of the
convenient paddocks or parcels of grazing land at the back of it, called
Moons'-lease, amounting to sixteen acres more or less. Then he invites
the company to make an offer of rent for such a desirable property under
a five years' lease, and as Elzevir and I are the only company present,
the bidding is soon done; for Elzevir offers a rent of 12 a year, which
has always been the value of the Why Not? The clerk makes a note of
this; but the business is not over yet, for we must wait till the pin
drops out of the candle before the lease is finally made out. So the men
fell to smoking to pass the time, till there could not have been more
than ten minutes' candle to burn, and Mr. Bailiff, with a glass of Ararat
milk in his hand, was saying, 'Tis a curious and fine tap of Hollands you
keep here, Master Block,' when in walked Mr. Maskew.

A thunderbolt would not have astonished me so much as did his appearance,
and Elzevir's face grew black as night; but the bailiff and clerk showed
no surprise, not knowing the terms on which persons in our village stood
to one another, and thinking it natural that someone should come in to
see the pin drop, and the end of an ancient custom. Indeed, Maskew seemed
to know the bailiff, for he passed the time of day with him, and was then
for sitting down at the table without taking any notice of Elzevir or me.
But just as he began to seat himself, Block shouted out, 'You are no
welcome visitor in my house, and I would sooner see your back than see
your face, but sit at this table you shall not.' I knew what he meant;
for on that table they had laid out David's body, and with that he struck
his fist upon the board so smart as to make the bailiff jump and nearly
bring the pin out of the candle.

'Heyday, sirs,' says Mr. Bailiff, astonished, 'let us have no brawling
here, the more so as this worshipful gentleman is a magistrate and
something of a friend of mine.' Yet Maskew refrained from sitting, but
stood by the bailiff's chair, turning white, and not red, as he did with
Mr. Glennie; and muttered something, that he had as lief stand as sit,
and that it should soon be Block's turn to ask sitting-room of _him_.

I was wondering what possibly could have brought Maskew there, when the
bailiff, who was ill at ease, said--'Come, Mr. Clerk, the pin hath but
another minute's hold; rehearse what has been done, for I must get this
lease delivered and off to Bridport, where much business waits.'

So the clerk read in a singsong voice that the property of the duchy of
Cornwall, called the Mohune Arms, an inn or tavern, with all its land,
tenements, and appurtenances, situate in the Parish of St. Sebastian,
Moonfleet, having been offered on lease for five years, would be let to
Elzevir Block at a rent of 12 per annum, unless anyone offered a higher
rent before the pin fell from the candle.

There was no one to make another offer, and the bailiff said to Elzevir,
'Tell them to have the horses round, the pin will be out in a minute, and
'twill save time.' So Elzevir gave the order, and then we all stood round
in silence, waiting for the pin to fall. The grease had burnt down to the
mark, or almost below it, as it appeared; but just where the pin stuck in
there was a little lump of harder tallow that held bravely out, refusing
to be melted. The bailiff gave a stamp of impatience with his foot under
the table as though he hoped thus to shake out the pin, and then a little
dry voice came from Maskew, saying--

'I offer 13 a year for the inn.'

This fell upon us with so much surprise, that all looked round, seeking
as it were some other speaker, and never thinking that it could be
Maskew. Elzevir was the first, I believe, to fully understand 'twas he;
and without turning to look at bailiff or Maskew, but having his elbows
on the table, his face between his hands, and looking straight out to
sea said in a sturdy voice, 'I offer 20.'

The words were scarce out of his mouth when Maskew caps them with 21,
and so in less than a minute the rent of the Why Not? was near doubled.
Then the bailiff looked from one to the other, not knowing what to make
of it all, nor whether 'twas comedy or serious, and said--

'Kind sir, I warn ye not to trifle; I have no time to waste in April
fooling, and he who makes offers in sport will have to stand to them
in earnest.'

But there was no lack of earnest in one at least of the men that he had
before him, and the voice with which Elzevir said 30 was still sturdy.
Maskew called 31 and 41, and Elzevir 40 and 50, and then I looked at
the candle, and saw that the head of the pin was no longer level, it had
sunk a little--a very little. The clerk awoke from his indifference, and
was making notes of the bids with a squeaking quill, the bailiff frowned
as being puzzled, and thinking that none had a right to puzzle him. As
for me, I could not sit still, but got on my feet, if so I might better
bear the suspense; for I understood now that Maskew had made up his mind
to turn Elzevir out, and that Elzevir was fighting for his home. _His_
home, and had he not made it my home too, and were we both to be made
outcasts to please the spite of this mean little man?

There were some more bids, and then I knew that Maskew was saying 91,
and saw the head of the pin was lower; the hard lump of tallow in Aunt
Jane's candle was thawing. The bailiff struck in: 'Are ye mad, sirs, and
you, Master Block, save your breath, and spare your money; and if this
worshipful gentleman must become innkeeper at any price, let him have the
place in the Devil's name, and I will give thee the Mermaid, at Bridport,
with a snug parlour, and ten times the trade of this.'

Elzevir seemed not to hear what he said, but only called out 100, with
his face still looking out to sea, and the same sturdiness in his voice.
Then Maskew tried a spring, and went to 120, and Elzevir capped him with
130, and 140, 150, 160, 170 followed quick. My breath came so fast
that I was almost giddy, and I had to clench my hands to remind myself of
where I was, and what was going on. The bidders too were breathing hard,
Elzevir had taken his head from his hands, and the eyes of all were on
the pin. The lump of tallow was worn down now; it was hard to say why the
pin did not fall. Maskew gulped out 180, and Elzevir said 190, and then
the pin gave a lurch, and I thought the Why Not? was saved, though at the
price of ruin. No; the pin had not fallen, there was a film that held it
by the point, one second, only one second. Elzevir's breath, which was
ready to outbid whatever Maskew said, caught in his throat with the
catching pin, and Maskew sighed out 200, before the pin pattered on the
bottom of the brass candlestick.

The clerk forgot his master's presence and shut his notebook with a bang,
'Congratulate you, sir,' says he, quite pert to Maskew; 'you are the
landlord of the poorest pothouse in the Duchy at 200 a year.'

The bailiff paid no heed to what his man did, but took his periwig
off and wiped his head. 'Well, I'm hanged,' he said; and so the Why
Not? was lost.

Just as the last bid was given, Elzevir half-rose from his chair, and
for a moment I expected to see him spring like a wild beast on Maskew;
but he said nothing, and sat down again with the same stolid look on his
face. And, indeed, it was perhaps well that he thus thought better of
it, for Maskew stuck his hand into his bosom as the other rose; and
though he withdrew it again when Elzevir got back to his chair, yet the
front of his waistcoat was a little bulged, and, looking sideways, I saw
the silver-shod butt of a pistol nestling far down against his white
shirt. The bailiff was vexed, I think, that he had been betrayed into
such strong words; for he tried at once to put on as indifferent an air
as might be, saying in dry tones, 'Well, gentlemen, there seems to be
here some personal matter into which I shall not attempt to spy. Two
hundred pounds more or less is but a flea-bite to the Duchy; and if you,
sir,' turning to Maskew, 'wish later on to change your mind, and be quit
of the bargain, I shall not be the man to stand in your way. In any
case, I imagine 'twill be time enough to seal the lease if I send it
from London.'

I knew he said this, and hinted at delay as wishing to do Elzevir a good
turn; for his clerk had the lease already made out pat, and it only
wanted the name and rent filled in to be sealed and signed. But, 'No,'
says Maskew, 'business is business, Mr. Bailiff, and the post uncertain
to parts so distant from the capital as these; so I'll thank you to make
out the lease to me now, and on May Day place me in possession.'

'So be it then,' said the bailiff a little testily, 'but blame me not for
driving hard bargains; for the Duchy, whose servant I am,' and he raised
his hat, 'is no daughter of the horse-leech. Fill in the figures, Mr.
Scrutton, and let us away.'

So Mr. Scrutton, for that was Mr. Clerk's name, scratches a bit with his
quill on the parchment sheet to fill in the money, and then Maskew
scratches his name, and Mr. Bailiff scratches his name, and Mr. Clerk
scratches again to witness Mr. Bailiff's name, and then Mr. Bailiff takes
from his mails a little shagreen case, and out from the case comes
sealing-wax and the travelling seal of the Duchy.

There was my aunt's best winter-candle still burning away in the
daylight, for no one had taken any thought to put it out; and Mr. Bailiff
melts the wax at it, till a drop of sealing-wax falls into the grease and
makes a gutter down one side, and then there is a sweating of the
parchment under the hot wax, and at last on goes the seal. 'Signed,
sealed, and delivered,' says Mr. Clerk, rolling up the sheet and handing
it to Maskew; and Maskew takes and thrusts it into his bosom underneath
his waistcoat front--all cheek by jowl with that silver-hafted pistol,
whose butt I had seen before.

The postchaise stood before the door, the horses were stamping on the
cobble-stones, and the harness jingled. Mr. Clerk had carried out his
mails, but Mr. Bailiff stopped for a moment as he flung the travelling
cloak about his shoulders to say to Elzevir, 'Tut, man, take things not
too hardly. Thou shalt have the Mermaid at 20 a year, which will be
worth ten times as much to thee as this dreary place; and canst send thy
son to Bryson's school, where they will make a scholar of him, for he is
a brave lad'; and he touched my shoulder, and gave me a kindly look as
he passed.

'I thank your worship', said Elzevir, 'for all your goodness; but when I
quit this place, I shall not set up my staff again at any inn door.'

Mr. Bailiff seemed nettled to see his offer made so little of, and left
the room with a sniff, 'Then I wish you good day.'

Maskew had slipped out before him, and the children's noses left the
window-pane as the great man walked down the steps. There was a little
group to see the start, but it quickly melted; and before the clatter of
hoofs died away, the report spread through the village that Maskew had
turned Elzevir out of the Why Not?

For a long time after all had gone, Elzevir sat at the table with his
head between his hands, and I kept quiet also, both because I was myself
sorry that we were to be sent adrift, and because I wished to show
Elzevir that I felt for him in his troubles. But the young cannot enter
fully into their elders' sorrows, however much they may wish to, and
after a time the silence palled upon me. It was getting dusk, and the
candle which bore itself so bravely through auction and lease-sealing
burnt low in the socket. A minute later the light gave some flickering
flashes, failings, and sputters, and then the wick tottered, and out
popped the flame, leaving us with the chilly grey of a March evening
creeping up in the corners of the room. I could bear the gloom no longer,
but made up the fire till the light danced ruddy across pewter and
porcelain on the dresser. 'Come, Master Block,' I said, 'there is time
enough before May Day to think what we shall do, so let us take a cup of
tea, and after that I will play you a game of backgammon.' But he still
remained cast down, and would say nothing; and as chance would have it,
though I wished to let him win at backgammon, that so, perhaps, he might
get cheered, yet do what I would that night I could not lose. So as his
luck grew worse his moodiness increased, and at last he shut the board
with a bang, saying, in reference to that motto that ran round its edge,
'Life is like a game of hazard, and surely none ever flung worse throws,
or made so little of them as I.'




CHAPTER 8

THE LANDING

Let my lamp at midnight hour
Be seen in some high lonely tower--_Milton_


Maskew got ugly looks from the men, and sour words from the wives, as he
went up through the village that afternoon, for all knew what he had
done, and for many days after the auction he durst not show his face
abroad. Yet Damen of Ringstave and some others of the landers' men, who
made it their business to keep an eye upon him, said that he had been
twice to Weymouth of evenings, and held converse there with Mr. Luckham
of the Excise, and with Captain Henning, who commanded the troopers then
in quarters on the Nothe. And by degrees it got about, but how I do not
know, that he had persuaded the Revenue to strike hard at the smugglers,
and that a strong posse was to be held in readiness to take the landers
in the act the next time they should try to run a cargo. Why Maskew
should so put himself about to help the Revenue I cannot tell, nor did
anyone ever certainly find out; but some said 'twas out of sheer
wantonness, and a desire to hurt his neighbours; and others, that he saw
what an apt place this was for landing cargoes, and wished first to make
a brave show of zeal for the Excise, and afterwards to get the whole of
the contraband trade into his own hands. However that may be, I think he
was certainly in league with the Revenue men, and more than once I saw
him on the Manor terrace with a spy glass in his hand, and guessed that
he was looking for the lugger in the offing. Now, word was mostly given
to the lander, by safe hands, of the night on which a cargo should be
run, and then in the morning or afternoon, the lugger would come just
near enough the land to be made out with glasses, and afterwards lie off
again out of sight till nightfall. The nights chosen for such work were
without moon, but as still as might be, so long as there was wind enough
to fill the sails; and often the lugger could be made out from the beach,
but sometimes 'twas necessary to signal with flares, though they were
used as little as might be. Yet after there had been a long spell of
rough weather, and a cargo had to be run at all hazards, I have known the
boats come in even on the bright moonlight and take their risk, for 'twas
said the Excise slept sounder round us than anywhere in all the Channel.

These tales of Maskew's doings failed not to reach Elzevir, and for some
days he thought best not to move, though there was a cargo on the other
side that wanted landing badly. But one evening when he had won at
backgammon, and was in an open mood, he took me into confidence, setting
down the dice box on the table, and saying--

'There is word come from the shippers that we must take a cargo, for that
they cannot keep the stuff by them longer at St. Malo. Now with this
devil at the Manor prowling round, I dare not risk the job on Moonfleet
beach, nor yet stow the liquor in the vault; so I have told the
_Bonaventure_ to put her nose into this bay tomorrow afternoon that
Maskew may see her well, and then to lie out again to sea, as she has
done a hundred times before. But instead of waiting in the offing, she
will make straight off up Channel to a little strip of shingle underneath
Hoar Head.' I nodded to show I knew the place, and he went on--'Men used
to choose that spot in good old times to beach a cargo before the
passage to the vault was dug; and there is a worked-out quarry they
called Pyegrove's Hole, not too far off up the down, and choked with
brambles, where we can find shelter for a hundred kegs. So we'll be under
Hoar Head at five tomorrow morn with the pack-horses. I wish we could be
earlier, for the sun rises thereabout, but the tide will not serve
before.'

It was at that moment that I felt a cold touch on my shoulders, as of the
fresh air from outside, and thought beside I had a whiff of salt seaweed
from the beach. So round I looked to see if door or window stood ajar.
The window was tight enough, and shuttered to boot, but the door was not
to be seen plainly for a wooden screen, which parted it from the parlour,
and was meant to keep off draughts. Yet I could just see a top corner of
the door above the screen and thought it was not fast. So up I got to
shut it, for the nights were cold; but coming round the corner of the
screen found that 'twas closed, and yet I could have sworn I saw the
latch fall to its place as I walked towards it. Then I dashed forward,
and in a trice had the door open, and was in the street. But the night
was moonless and black, and I neither saw nor heard aught stirring, save
the gentle sea-wash on Moonfleet beach beyond the salt meadows.

Elzevir looked at me uneasily as I came back.

'What ails thee, boy?' said he.

'I thought I heard someone at the door,' I answered; 'did you not feel a
cold wind as if it was open?'

'It is but the night is sharp, the spring sets in very chill; slip the
bolt, and sit down again,' and he flung a fresh log on the fire, that
sent a cloud of sparks crackling up the chimney and out into the room.

'Elzevir,' I said, 'I think there was one listening at the door, and
there may be others in the house, so before we sit again let us take
candle and go through the rooms to make sure none are prying on us.'

He laughed and said, ''Twas but the wind that blew the door open,' but
that I might do as I pleased. So I lit another candle, and was for
starting on my search; but he cried, 'Nay, thou shalt not go alone'; and
so we went all round the house together, and found not so much as a
mouse stirring.

He laughed the more when we came back to the parlour. ''Tis the cold
has chilled thy heart and made thee timid of that skulking rascal of
the Manor; fill me a glass of Ararat milk, and one for thyself, and let
us to bed.'

I had learned by this not to be afraid of the good liquor, and while we
sat sipping it, Elzevir went on--

'There is a fortnight yet to run, and then you and I shall be cut adrift
from our moorings. It is a cruel thing to see the doors of this house
closed on me, where I and mine have lived a century or more, but I must
see it. Yet let us not be too cast down, but try to make something even
of this worst of throws.'

I was glad enough to hear him speak in this firmer strain, for I had seen
what a sore thought it had been for these days past that he must leave
the Why Not?, and how it often made him moody and downcast.

'We will have no more of innkeeping,' he said; 'I have been sick and
tired of it this many a day, and care not now to see men abuse good
liquor and addle their silly pates to fill my purse. And I have
something, boy, put snug away in Dorchester town that will give us bread
to eat and beer to drink, even if the throws run still deuce-ace. But we
must seek a roof to shelter us when the Why Not? is shut, and 'tis best
we leave this Moonfleet of ours for a season, till Maskew finds a rope's
end long enough to hang himself withal. So, when our work is done
tomorrow night, we will walk out along the cliff to Worth, and take a
look at a cottage there that Damen spoke about, with a walled orchard at
the back, and fuchsia hedge in front--'tis near the Lobster Inn, and has
a fine prospect of the sea; and if we live there, we will leave the vault
alone awhile and use this Pyegrove's Hole for storehouse, till the watch
is relaxed.'

I did not answer, having my thoughts on other things, and he tossed off
his liquor, saying, 'Thou'rt tired; so let's to bed, for we shall get
little sleep tomorrow night.'

It was true that I was tired, and yet I could not get to sleep, but
tossed and turned in my bed for thinking of many things, and being vexed
that we were to leave Moonfleet. Yet mine was a selfish sorrow; for I had
little thought for Elzevir and the pain that it must be to him to quit,
the Why Not?: nor yet was it the grief of leaving Moonfleet that so
troubled me, although that was the only place I ever had known, and
seemed to me then--as now--the only spot on earth fit to be lived in; but
the real care and canker was that I was going away from Grace Maskew. For
since she had left school I had grown fonder of her; and now that it was
difficult to see her, I took the more pains to accomplish it, and met her
sometimes in Manor Woods, and more than once, when Maskew was away, had
walked with her on Weatherbeech Hill. So we bred up a boy-and-girl
affection, and must needs pledge ourselves to be true to one another, not
knowing what such silly words might mean. And I told Grace all my
secrets, not even excepting the doings of the contraband, and the Mohune
vault and Blackbeard's locket, for I knew all was as safe with her as
with me, and that her father could never rack aught from her. Nay, more,
her bedroom was at the top of the gabled wing of the Manor House, and
looked right out to sea; and one clear night, when our boat was coming
late from fishing, I saw her candle burning there, and next day told her
of it. And then she said that she would set a candle to burn before the
panes on winter nights, and be a leading light for boats at sea. And so
she did, and others beside me saw and used it, calling it 'Maskew's
Match', and saying that it was the attorney sitting up all night to pore
over ledgers and add up his fortune.

So this night as I lay awake I vexed and vexed myself for thinking of
her, and at last resolved to go up next morning to the Manor Woods and
lie in wait for Grace, to tell her what was up, and that we were going
away to Worth.

Next day, the 16th of April--a day I have had cause to remember all my
life--I played truant from Mr. Glennie, and by ten in the forenoon found
myself in the woods.

There was a little dimple on the hillside above the house, green with
burdocks in summer and filled with dry leaves in winter--just big enough
to hold one lying flat, and not so deep but that I could look over the
lip of it and see the house without being seen. Thither I went that day,
and lay down in the dry leaves to wait and watch for Grace.

The morning was bright enough. The chills of the night before had given
way to sunlight that seemed warm as summer, and yet had with it the soft
freshness of spring. There was scarce a breath moving in the wood, though
I could see the clouds of white dust stalking up the road that climbs
Ridge down, and the trees were green with buds, yet without leafage to
keep the sunbeams from lighting up the ground below, which glowed with
yellow king-cups. So I lay there for a long, long while; and to make time
pass quicker, took from my bosom the silver locket, and opening it, read
again the parchment, which I had read times out of mind before, and knew
indeed by heart.

'The days of our age are threescore years and ten', and the rest.

Now, whenever I handled the locket, my thoughts were turned to Mohune's
treasure; and it was natural that it should be so, for the locket
reminded me of my first journey to the vault; and I laughed at myself,
remembering how simple I had been, and had hoped to find the place
littered with diamonds, and to see the gold lying packed in heaps. And
thus for the hundredth time I came to rack my brain to know where the
diamond could be hid, and thought at last it must be buried in the
churchyard, because of the talk of Blackbeard being seen on wild nights
digging there for his treasure. But then, I reasoned, that very like it
was the contrabandiers whom men had seen with spades when they were
digging out the passage from the tomb to the vault, and set them down for
ghosts because they wrought at night. And while I was busy with such
thoughts, the door opened in the house below me, and out came Grace with
a hood on her head and a basket for wild flowers in her hand.

I watched to see which way she would walk; and as soon as she took the
path that leads up Weatherbeech, made off through the dry brushwood to
meet her, for we had settled she should never go that road except when
Maskew was away. So there we met and spent an hour together on the hill,
though I shall not write here what we said, because it was mostly silly
stuff. She spoke much of the auction and of Elzevir leaving the Why Not?,
and though she never said a word against her father, let me know what
pain his doing gave her. But most she grieved that we were leaving
Moonfleet, and showed her grief in such pretty ways, as made me almost
glad to see her sorry. And from her I learned that Maskew was indeed
absent from home, having been called away suddenly last night. The
evening was so fine, he said (and this surprised me, remembering how dark
and cold it was with us), that he must needs walk round the policies; but
about nine o'clock came back and told her he had got a sudden call to
business, which would take him to Weymouth then and there. So to saddle,
and off he went on his mare, bidding Grace not to look for him for two
nights to come.

I know not why it was, but what she said of Maskew made me thoughtful and
silent, and she too must be back home lest the old servant that kept
house for them should say she had been too long away, and so we parted.
Then off I went through the woods and down the village street, but as I
passed my old home saw Aunt Jane standing on the doorstep. I bade her
'Good day', and was for running on to the Why Not?, for I was late enough
already, but she called me to her, seeming in a milder mood, and said she
had something for me in the house. So left me standing while she went off
to get it, and back she came and thrust into my hand a little
prayer-book, which I had often seen about the parlour in past days,
saying, 'Here is a Common Prayer which I had meant to send thee with thy
clothes. It was thy poor mother's, and I pray may some day be as precious
a balm to thee as it once was to that godly woman.' With that she gave me
the 'Good day', and I pocketed the little red leather book, which did
indeed afterwards prove precious to me, though not in the way she meant,
and ran down street to the Why Not?

*       *       *       *       *

That same evening Elzevir and I left the Why Not?, went up through the
village, climbed the down, and were at the brow by sunset. We had started
earlier than we fixed the night before, because word had come to Elzevir
that morning that the tide called Gulder would serve for the beaching of
the _Bonaventure_ at three instead of five. 'Tis a strange thing the
Gulder, and not even sailors can count closely with it; for on the Dorset
coast the tide makes four times a day, twice with the common flow, and
twice with the Gulder, and this last being shifty and uncertain as to
time, flings out many a sea-reckoning.

It was about seven o'clock when we were at the top of the hill, and there
were fifteen good miles to cover to get to Hoar Head. Dusk was upon us
before we had walked half an hour; but when the night fell, it was not
black as on the last evening, but a deep sort of blue, and the heat of
the day did not die with the sun, but left the air still warm and balmy.
We trudged on in silence, and were glad enough when we saw by a white
stone here and there at the side of the path that we were nearing the
cliff; for the Preventive men mark all the footpaths on the cliff with
whitewashed stones, so that one can pick up the way without risk on a
dark night. A few minutes more, and we reached a broad piece of open
sward, which I knew for the top of Hoar Head.

Hoar Head is the highest of that line of cliffs, which stretches twenty
miles from Weymouth to St. Alban's Head, and it stands up eighty fathoms
or more above the water. The seaward side is a great sheer of chalk, but
falls not straight into the sea, for three parts down there is a lower
ledge or terrace, called the under-cliff.

'Twas to this ledge that we were bound; and though we were now straight
above, I knew we had a mile or more to go before we could get down to
it. So on we went again, and found the bridle-path that slopes down
through a deep dip in the cliff line; and when we reached this
under-ledge, I looked up at the sky, the night being clear, and guessed
by the stars that 'twas past midnight. I knew the place from having once
been there for blackberries; for the brambles on the under-cliff being
sheltered every way but south, and open to the sun, grow the finest in
all those parts.

We were not alone, for I could make out a score of men, some standing in
groups, some resting on the ground, and the dark shapes of the
pack-horses showing larger in the dimness. There were a few words of
greeting muttered in deep voices, and then all was still, so that one
heard the browsing horses trying to crop something off the turf. It was
not the first cargo I had helped to run, and I knew most of the men, but
did not speak with them, being tired, and wishing to rest till I was
wanted. So cast myself down on the turf, but had not lain there long when
I saw someone coming to me through the brambles, and Master Ratsey said,
'Well, Jack, so thou and Elzevir are leaving Moonfleet, and I fain would
flit myself, but then who would be left to lead the old folk to their
last homes, for dead do not bury their dead in these days.'

I was half-asleep, and took little heed of what he said, putting him off
with, 'That need not keep you, Master; they will find others to fill your
place.' Yet he would not let me be, but went on talking for the pleasure
of hearing his own voice.

'Nay, child, you know not what you say. They may find men to dig a grave,
and perhaps to fill it, but who shall toss the mould when Parson Glennie
gives the "earth to earth"; it takes a mort of knowledge to make it
rattle kindly on the coffin-lid.'

I felt sleep heavy on my eyelids, and was for begging him to let me rest,
when there came a whistle from below, and in a moment all were on their
feet. The drivers went to the packhorses' heads, and so we walked down to
the strand, a silent moving group of men and horses mixed; and before we
came to the bottom, heard the first boat's nose grind on the beach, and
the feet of the seamen crunching in the pebbles. Then all fell to the
business of landing, and a strange enough scene it was, what with the
medley of men, the lanthorns swinging, and a frothy Upper from the sea
running up till sometimes it was over our boots; and all the time there
was a patter of French and Dutch, for most of the _Bonaventure's_ men
were foreigners. But I shall not speak more of this; for, after all, one
landing is very like another, and kegs come ashore in much the same way,
whether they are to pay excise or not.

It must have been three o'clock before the lugger's boats were off again
to sea, and by that time the horses were well laden, and most of the men
had a keg or two to carry beside. Then Elzevir, who was in command, gave
the word, and we began to file away from the beach up to the under-cliff.
Now, what with the cargo being heavy, we were longer than usual in
getting away; and though there was no sign of sunrise, yet the night was
greyer, and not so blue as it had been.

We reached the under-cliff, and were moving across it to address
ourselves to the bridle-path, and so wind sideways up the steep; when I
saw something moving behind one of the plumbs of brambles with which the
place is beset. It was only a glimpse of motion that I had perceived, and
could not say whether 'twas man or animal, or even frightened bird behind
the bushes. But others had seen it as well; there was some shouting, half
a dozen flung down their kegs and started in pursuit.

All eyes were turned to the bridle-path, and in a twinkling hunters and
hunted were in view. The greyhounds were Damen and Garrett, with some
others, and the hare was an older man, who leapt and bounded forward,
faster than I should have thought any but a youth could run; but then he
knew what men were after him, and that 'twas a race for life. For though
it was but a moment before all were lost in the night, yet this was long
enough to show me that the man was none other than Maskew, and I knew
that his life was not worth ten minutes' purchase.

Now I hated this man, and had myself suffered something at his hand,
besides seeing him put much grievous suffering on others; but I wished
then with all my heart he might escape, and had a horrible dread of what
was to come. Yet I knew all the time escape was impossible; for though
Maskew ran desperately, the way was steep and stony, and he had behind
him some of the fleetest feet along that coast. We had all stopped with
one accord, as not wishing to move a step forward till we had seen the
issue of the chase; and I was near enough to look into Elzevir's face,
but saw there neither passion nor bloodthirstiness, but only a calm
resolve, as if he had to deal with something well expected.

We had not long to wait, for very soon we heard a rolling of stones and
trampling of feet coming down the path, and from the darkness issued a
group of men, having Maskew in the middle of them. They were hustling him
along fast, two having hold of him by the arms, and a third by the neck
of his shirt behind. The sight gave me a sick qualm, like an overdose of
tobacco, for it was the first time I had ever seen a man man-handled, and
a fellow-creature abused. His cap was lost, and his thin hair tangled
over his forehead, his coat was torn off, so that he stood in his
waistcoat alone; he was pale, and gasped terribly, whether from the sharp
run, or from violence, or fear, or all combined.

There was a babel of voices when they came up of desperate men who had a
bitterest enemy in their clutch; and some shouted, 'Club him', 'Shoot
him', 'Hang him', while others were for throwing him over the cliff. Then
someone saw under the flap of his waistcoat that same silver-hafted
pistol that lay so lately next the lease of the Why Not? and snatching it
from him, flung it on the grass at Block's feet.

But Elzevir's deep voice mastered their contentions--

'Lads, ye remember how I said when this man's reckoning day should come
'twas I would reckon with him, and had your promise to it. Nor is it
right that any should lay hand on him but I, for is he not sealed to me
with my son's blood? So touch him not, but bind him hand and foot, and
leave him here with me and go your ways; there is no time to lose, for
the light grows apace.'

There was a little muttered murmuring, but Elzevir's will overbore them
here as it had done in the vault; and they yielded the more easily,
because every man knew in his heart that he would never see Maskew again
alive. So within ten minutes all were winding up the bridle-path, horses
and men, all except three; for there were left upon the brambly
greensward of the under-cliff Maskew and Elzevir and I, and the pistol
lay at Elzevir's feet.




CHAPTER 9

A JUDGEMENT

Let them fight it out, friend. Things have gone too far,
God must judge the couple: leave them as they are--_Browning_


I made as if I would follow the others, not wishing to see what I must
see if I stayed behind, and knowing that I was powerless to bend Elzevir
from his purpose. But he called me back and bade me wait with him, for
that I might be useful by and by. So I waited, but was only able to make
a dreadful guess at how I might be of use, and feared the worst.

Maskew sat on the sward with his hands lashed tight behind his back, and
his feet tied in front. They had set him with his shoulders against a
great block of weather-worn stone that was half-buried and half-stuck up
out of the turf. There he sat keeping his eyes on the ground, and was
breathing less painfully than when he was first brought, but still very
pale. Elzevir stood with the lanthorn in his hand, looking at Maskew
with a fixed gaze, and we could hear the hoofs of the heavy-laden horses
beating up the path, till they turned a corner, and all was still.

The silence was broken by Maskew: 'Unloose me, villain, and let me go. I
am a magistrate of the county, and if you do not, I will have you
gibbeted on this cliff-top.'

They were brave words enough, yet seemed to me but bad play-acting; and
brought to my remembrance how, when I was a little fellow, Mr. Glennie
once made me recite a battle-piece of Mr. Dryden before my betters; and
how I could scarce get out the bloody threats for shyness and rising
tears. So it was with Maskew's words; for he had much ado to gather
breath to say them, and they came in a thin voice that had no sting of
wrath or passion in it.

Then Elzevir spoke to him, not roughly, but resolved; and yet with
melancholy, like a judge sentencing a prisoner:

'Talk not to me of gibbets, for thou wilt neither hang nor see men hanged
again. A month ago thou satst under my roof, watching the flame burn down
till the pin dropped and gave thee right to turn me out from my old home.
And now this morning thou shalt watch that flame again, for I will give
thee one inch more of candle, and when the pin drops, will put this thine
own pistol to thy head, and kill thee with as little thought as I would