only twenty-four hours ago; and how far off we were now, and how long it
was likely to be before I saw that dear village and Grace again.

The stairs were still sharp cut and little worn, but Elzevir paid great
care to his feet, lest he should slip on the ferns and mosses with which
they were overgrown. When we reached the brambles he met them with his
back, and though I heard the thorns tearing in his coat, he shoved them
aside with his broad shoulders, and screened my dangling leg from getting
caught. Thus he came safe without stumble to the bottom of the pit.

When we got there all was dark, but he stepped off into a narrow opening
on the right hand, and walked on as if he knew the way. I could see
nothing, but perceived that we were passing through endless galleries cut
in the solid rock, high enough, for the most part, to allow of walking
upright, but sometimes so low as to force him to bend down and carry me
in a very constrained attitude. Only twice did he set me down at a
turning, while he took out his tinder-box and lit a match; but at length
the darkness became less dark, and I saw that we were in a large cave or
room, into which the light came through some opening at the far end. At
the same time I felt a colder breath and fresh salt smell in the air that
told me we were very near the sea.




CHAPTER 11

THE SEA-CAVE

The dull loneness, the black shade,
That these hanging vaults have made:
The strange music of the waves
Beating on these hollow caves--_Wither_


He set me down in one corner, where was some loose dry silver-sand upon
the floor, which others had perhaps used for a resting-place before.
'Thou must lie here for a month or two, lad,' he said; 'tis a mean bed,
but I have known many worse, and will get straw tomorrow if I can, to
better it.'

I had eaten nothing all day, nor had Elzevir, yet I felt no hunger, only
a giddiness and burning thirst like that which came upon me when I was
shut in the Mohune vault. So 'twas very music to me to hear a pat and
splash of water dropping from the roof into a little pool upon the floor,
and Elzevir made a cup out of my hat and gave a full drink of it that was
icy-cool and more delicious than any smuggled wine of France.

And after that I knew little that happened for ten days or more, for
fever had hold of me, and as I learnt afterwards, I talked wild and could
scarce be restrained from jumping up and loosing the bindings that
Elzevir had put upon my leg. And all that time he nursed me as tenderly
as any mother could her child, and never left the cave except when he was
forced to seek food. But after the fever passed it left me very thin, as
I could see from hands and arms, and weaker than a baby; and I used to
lie the whole day, not thinking much, nor troubling about anything, but
eating what was given me and drawing a quiet pleasure from the knowledge
that strength was gradually returning. Elzevir had found a battered
sea-chest up on Peveril Point, and from the side of it made splints to
set my leg--using his own shirt for bandages. The sand-bed too was made
more soft and easy with some armfuls of straw, and in one corner of the
cave was a little pile of driftwood and an iron cooking-pot. And all
these things had Elzevir got by foraging of nights, using great care that
none should see him, and taking only what would not be much missed or
thought about; but soon he contrived to give Ratsey word of where we
were, and after that the sexton fended for us. There were none even of
the landers knew what was become of us, save only Ratsey; and he never
came down the quarry, but would leave what he brought in one of the
ruined cottages a half-mile from the shaft. And all the while there was
strict search being made for us, and mounted Excisemen scouring the
country; for though at first the Posse took back Maskew's dead body and
said we must have fallen over the cliff, for there was nothing to be
found of us, yet afterwards a farm-boy brought a tale of how he had come
suddenly on men lurking under a wall, and how one had a bloody foot and
leg, and how the other sprung upon him and after a fierce struggle
wrenched his master's rook-piece from his hands, rifled his pocket of a
powder-horn, and made off with them like a hare towards Corfe. And as to
Maskew, some of the soldiers said that Elzevir had shot him, and others
that he died by misadventure, being killed by a stray bullet of one of
his own men on the hill-top; but for all that they put a head-price on
Elzevir of 50, and 20 for me, so we had reason to lie close. It must
have been Maskew that listened that night at the door when Elzevir told
me the hour at which the cargo was to be run; for the Posse had been
ordered to be at Hoar Head at four in the morning. So all the gang would
have been taken had it not been for the Gulder making earlier, and the
soldiers being delayed by tippling at the Lobster.

All this Elzevir learnt from Ratsey and told me to pass the time,
though in truth I had as lief not heard it, for 'tis no pleasant thing
to see one's head wrote down so low as 20. And what I wanted most to
know, namely how Grace fared and how she took the bad news of her
father's death, I could not hear, for Elzevir said nothing, and I was
shy to ask him.

Now when I came entirely to myself, and was able to take stock of things,
I found that the place in which I lay was a cave some eight yards square
and three in height, whose straight-cut walls showed that men had once
hewed stone therefrom. On one side was that passage through which we had
come in, and on the other opened a sort of door which gave on to a stone
ledge eight fathoms above high-water mark. For the cave was cut out just
inside that iron cliff-face which lies between St. Alban's Head and
Swanage. But the cliffs here are different from those on the other side
of the Head, being neither so high as Hoar Head nor of chalk, but
standing for the most part only an hundred or an hundred and fifty feet
above the sea, and showing towards it a stern face of solid rock. But
though they rise not so high above the water, they go down a long way
below it; so that there is fifty fathom right up to the cliff, and many a
good craft out of reckoning in fog, or on a pitch-dark night, has run
full against that frowning wall, and perished, ship and crew, without a
soul to hear their cries. Yet, though the rock looks hard as adamant, the
eternal washing of the wave has worn it out below, and even with the
slightest swell there is a dull and distant booming of the surge in those
cavernous deeps; and when the wind blows fresh, each roller smites the
cliff like a thunder-clap, till even the living rock trembles again.

It was on a ledge of that rock-face that our cave opened, and sometimes
on a fine day Elzevir would carry me out thither, so that I might sun
myself and see all the moving Channel without myself being seen. For this
ledge was carved out something like a balcony, so that when the quarry
was in working they could lower the stone by pulleys to boats lying
underneath, and perhaps haul up a keg or two by the way of ballast, as
might be guessed by the stanchions still rusting in the rock.

Such was this gallery; and as for the inside of the cave, 'twas a great
empty room, with a white floor made up of broken stone-dust trodden hard
of old till one would say it was plaster; and dry, without those sweaty
damps so often seen in such places--save only in one corner a
land-spring dropped from the roof trickling down over spiky
rock-icicles, and falling into a little hollow in the floor. This basin
had been scooped out of set purpose, with a gutter seaward for the
overflow, and round it and on the wet patch of the roof above grew a
garden of ferns and other clinging plants.

The weeks moved on until we were in the middle of May, when even the
nights were no longer cold, as the sun gathered power. And with the
warmer days my strength too increased, and though I dared not yet stand,
my leg had ceased to pain me, except for some sharp twinges now and then,
which Elzevir said were caused by the bone setting. And then he would put
a poultice made of grass upon the place, and once walked almost as far as
Chaldron to pluck sorrel for a soothing mash.

Now though he had gone out and in so many times in safety, yet I was
always ill at ease when he was away, lest he might fall into some ambush
and never come back. Nor was it any thought of what would come to me if
he were caught that grieved me, but only care for him; for I had come to
lean in everything upon this grim and grizzled giant, and love him like a
father. So when he was away I took to reading to beguile my thoughts; but
found little choice of matter, having only my aunt's red Prayer-book that
I thrust into my bosom the afternoon that I left Moonfleet, and
Blackbeard's locket. For that locket hung always round my neck; and I
often had the parchment out and read it; not that I did not know it now
by heart, but because reading it seemed to bring Grace to my thoughts,
for the last time I had read it was when I saw her in the Manor woods.

Elzevir and I had often talked over what was to be done when my leg
should be sound again, and resolved to take passage to St. Malo in the
_Bonaventure_, and there lie hid till the pursuit against us should have
ceased. For though 'twas wartime, French and English were as brothers in
the contraband, and the shippers would give us bit and sup, and glad to,
as long as we had need of them. But of this I need not say more, because
'twas but a project, which other events came in to overturn.

Yet 'twas this very errand, namely, to fix with the _Bonaventure_'s men
the time to take us over to the other side, that Elzevir had gone out, on
the day of which I shall now speak. He was to go to Poole, and left our
cave in the afternoon, thinking it safe to keep along the cliff-edge even
in the daylight, and to strike across country when dusk came on. The wind
had blown fresh all the morning from south-west, and after Elzevir had
left, strengthened to a gale. My leg was now so strong that I could walk
across the cave with the help of a stout blackthorn that Elzevir had cut
me: and so I went out that afternoon on to the ledge to watch the growing
sea. There I sat down, with my back against a protecting rock, in such a
place that I could see up-Channel and yet shelter from the rushing wind.
The sky was overcast, and the long wall of rock showed grey with
orange-brown patches and a darker line of sea-weed at the base like the
under strake of a boat's belly, for the tide was but beginning to make.
There was a mist, half-fog, half-spray, scudding before the wind, and
through it I could see the white-backed rollers lifting over Peveril
Point; while all along the cliff-face the sea-birds thronged the ledges,
and sat huddled in snowy lines, knowing the mischief that was brewing in
the elements.

It was a melancholy scene, and bred melancholy in my heart; and about
sun-down the wind southed a point or two, setting the sea more against
the cliff, so that the spray began to fly even over my ledge and drove me
back into the cave. The night came on much sooner than usual, and before
long I was lying on my straw bed in perfect darkness. The wind had gone
still more to south, and was screaming through the opening of the cave;
the caverns down below bellowed and rumbled; every now and then a giant
roller struck the rock such a blow as made the cave tremble, and then a
second later there would fall, splattering on the ledge outside, the
heavy spray that had been lifted by the impact.

I have said that I was melancholy; but worse followed, for I grew timid,
and fearful of the wild night, and the loneliness, and the darkness. And
all sorts of evil tales came to my mind, and I thought much of baleful
heathen gods that St. Aldhelm had banished to these underground cellars,
and of the Mandrive who leapt on people in the dark and strangled them.
And then fancy played another trick on me, and I seemed to see a man
lying on the cave-floor with a drawn white face upturned, and a red hole
in the forehead; and at last could bear the dark no longer, but got up
with my lame leg and groped round till I found a candle, for we had two
or three in store. 'Twas only with much ado I got it lit and set up in
the corner of the cave, and then I sat down close by trying to screen it
with my coat. But do what I would the wind came gusting round the corner,
blowing the flame to one side, and making the candle gutter as another
candle guttered on that black day at the Why Not? And so thought whisked
round till I saw Maskew's face wearing a look of evil triumph, when the
pin fell at the auction, and again his face grew deadly pale, and there
was the bullet-mark on his brow.

Surely there were evil spirits in this place to lead my thoughts so much
astray, and then there came to my mind that locket on my neck, which men
had once hung round Blackbeard's to scare evil spirits from his tomb. If
it could frighten them from him, might it not rout them now, and make
them fly from me? And with that thought I took the parchment out, and
opening it before the flickering light, although I knew all, word for
word, conned it over again, and read it out aloud. It was a relief to
hear a human voice, even though 'twas nothing but my own, and I took to
shouting the words, having much ado even so to make them heard for the
raging of the storm:

'The days of our age are threescore years and ten; and though men be so
strong that they come to fourscore years: yet is their strength then but
labour and sorrow; so soon passeth it away, and we are gone.

'And as for me, my feet were almost ...'

At the 'almost' I stopped, being brought up suddenly with a fierce beat
of blood through my veins, and a jump fit to burst them, for I had heard
a scuffling noise in the passage that led to the cave, as if someone had
stumbled against a loose stone in the dark. I did not know then, but have
learnt since, that where there is a loud noise, such as the roaring of a
cascade, the churning of a mill, or, as here, the rage and bluster of a
storm--if there arise some different sound, even though it be as slight
as the whistle of a bird, 'twill strike the ear clear above the general
din. And so it was this night, for I caught that stumbling tread even
when the gale blew loudest, and sat motionless and breathless, in my
eagerness of listening, and then the gale lulled an instant, and I heard
the slow beat of footsteps as of one groping his way down the passage in
the dark. I knew it was not Elzevir, for first he could not be back from
Poole for many hours yet, and second, he always whistled in a certain way
to show 'twas he coming and gave besides a pass-word; yet, if not
Elzevir, who could it be? I blew out the light, for I did not want to
guide the aim of some unknown marksman shooting at me from the dark; and
then I thought of that gaunt strangler that sprang on marbleworkers in
the gloom; yet it could not be the Mandrive, for surely he would know his
own passages better than to stumble in them in the dark. It was more
likely to be one of the hue and cry who had smelt us out, and hoped
perhaps to be able to reconnoitre without being perceived on so awful a
night. Whenever Elzevir went out foraging, he carried with him that
silver-butted pistol which had once been Maskew's, but left behind the
old rook-piece. We had plenty of powder and slugs now, having obtained a
store of both from Ratsey, and Elzevir had bid me keep the matchlock
charged, and use it or not after my own judgement, if any came to the
cave; but gave as his counsel that it was better to die fighting than to
swing at Dorchester, for that we should most certainly do if taken. We
had agreed, moreover, on a pass-word, which was _Prosper the
Bonaventure_, so that I might challenge betimes any that I heard coming,
and if they gave not back this countersign might know it was not Elzevir.

So now I reached out for the piece, which lay beside me on the floor, and
scrambled to my feet; lifting the deckle in the darkness, and feeling
with my fingers in the pan to see 'twas full of powder.

The lull in the storm still lasted, and I heard the footsteps
advancing, though with uncertain slowness, and once after a heavy
stumble I thought I caught a muttereth oath, as if someone had struck
his foot against a stone.

Then I shouted out clear in the darkness a 'Who goes there?' that rang
again through the stone roofs. The footsteps stopped, but there was no
answer. 'Who goes there?' I repeated. 'Answer, or I fire.'

'_Prosper the Bonaventure_,' came back out of the darkness, and I knew
that I was safe. 'The devil take thee for a hot-blooded young bantam to
shoot thy best friend with powder and ball, that he was fool enough to
give thee'; and by this time I had guessed 'twas Master Ratsey, and
recognized his voice. 'I would have let thee hear soon enough that 'twas
I, if I had known I was so near thy lair; but 'tis more than a man's life
is worth to creep down moleholes in the dark, and on a night like this.
And why I could not get out the gibberish about the _Bonaventure_ sooner,
was because I matched my shin to break a stone, and lost the wager and my
breath together. And when my wind returned 'tis very like that I was
trapped into an oath, which is sad enough for me, who am sexton, and so
to say in small orders of the Church of England as by law established.'

By the time I had put down the gun and coaxed the candle again to light,
Ratsey stepped into the cave. He wore a sou'wester, and was dripping with
wet, but seemed glad to see me and shook me by the hand. He was welcome
enough to me also, for he banished the dreadful loneliness, and his
coming was a bit out of my old pleasant life that lay so far away, and
seemed to bring me once more within reach of some that were dearest.




CHAPTER 12

A FUNERAL

How he lies in his rights of a man!
Death has done all death can--_Browning_


We stood for a moment holding one another's hands; then Ratsey spoke.
'John, these two months have changed thee from boy to man. Thou wast a
child when I turned that morning as we went up Hoar Head with the
pack-horses, and looked back on thee and Elzevir below, and Maskew lying
on the ground. 'Twas a sorry business, and has broken up the finest gang
that ever ran a cargo, besides driving thee and Elzevir to hide in caves
and dens of the earth. Thou shouldst have come with us that morn; not
have stayed behind. The work was too rough for boys: the skipper should
have piped the reefing-hands.'

It was true enough, or seemed to me true then, for I felt much cast down;
but only said, 'Nay, Master Ratsey, where Master Block stays, there I
must stay too, and where he goes I follow.'

Then I sat down upon the bed in the corner, feeling my leg began to ache;
and the storm, which had lulled for a few minutes, came up again all the
fiercer with wilder gusts and showers of spray and rain driving into the
cave from seaward. So I was scarce sat down when in came a roaring blast,
filling even our corner with cold, wet air, that quenched the weakling
candle flame.

'God save us, what a night!' Ratsey cried.

'God save poor souls at sea,' said I.

'Amen to that,' says he, 'and would that every Amen I have said had come
as truly from my heart. There will be sea enough on Moonfleet Beach this
night to lift a schooner to the top of it, and launch her down into the
fields behind. I had as lief be in the Mohune vault as in this fearsome
place, and liefer too, if half the tales men tell are true of faces that
may meet one here. For God's sake let us light a fire, for I caught sight
of a store of driftwood before that sickly candle went out.'

It was some time before we got a fire alight, and even after the flame
had caught well hold, the rush of the wind would every now and again blow
the smoke into our eyes, or send a shower of sparks dancing through the
cave. But by degrees the logs began to glow clear white, and such a
cheerful warmth came out, as was in itself a solace and remedy for man's
afflictions.

'Ah!' said Ratsey, 'I was shrammed with wet and cold, and half-dead with
this baffling wind. It is a blessed thing a fire,' and he unbuttoned his
pilot-coat, 'and needful now, if ever. My soul is very low, lad, for
this place has strange memories for me; and I recollect, forty years ago
(when I was just a boy like thee), old lander Jordan's gang, and I among
them, were in this very cave on such another night. I was new to the
trade then, as thou might be, and could not sleep for noise of wind and
sea. And in the small hours of an autumn morning, as I lay here, just
where we lie now, I heard such wailing cries above the storm, ay, and
such shrieks of women, as made my blood run cold and have not yet forgot
them. And so I woke the gang who were all deep asleep as seasoned
contrabandiers should be; but though we knew that there were
fellow-creatures fighting for their lives in the seething flood beneath
us, we could not stir hand or foot to save them, for nothing could be
seen for rain and spray, and 'twas not till next morning that we learned
the _Florida_ had foundered just below with every soul on board. Ay,
'tis a queer life, and you and Block are in a queer strait now, and that
is what I came to tell you. See here.' And he took out of his pocket an
oblong strip of printed paper:

*       *       *       *       *

G.R.

WHITEHALL, 15 May 1758

Whereas it hath been humbly represented to the King that on Friday, the
night of the 16th of April last, THOMAS MASKEW, a Justice of the Peace,
was most inhumanly murdered at Hoar Head, a lone place in the Parish of
Chaldron, in the County of Dorset, by one ELZEVIR BLOCK and one JOHN
TRENCHARD, both of the Parish of Moonfleet, in the aforesaid County: His
Majesty, for the better discovering and bringing to Justice these
Persons, is pleased to promise His Most Gracious PARDON to any of the
Persons concerned therein, except the Persons who actually committed the
said Murder; and, as a further Encouragement, a REWARD OF FIFTY POUNDS to
any Person who shall furnish such INFORMATION as shall lead to the
APPREHENSION of the said ELZEVIR BLOCK, and a REWARD of TWENTY POUNDS to
any Person who shall furnish such INFORMATION as shall lead to the
APPREHENSION of the said JOHN TRENCHARD. Such INFORMATION to be given to
ME, or to the GOVERNOUR of His MAJESTY'S GAOL in Dorchester.

HOLDERNESSE.

*       *       *       *       *

'There--that's the bill,' he said; 'and a vastly fine piece it is, and
yet I wish that 'twas played with other actors. Now, in Moonfleet there
is none that know your hiding-place, and not a man, nor woman either,
that would tell if they knew it ten times over. But fifty pounds for
Elzevir, and twenty pounds for an empty pumpkin-top like thine, is a fair
round sum, and there are vagabonds about this countryside scurvy enough
to try to earn it. And some of these have set the Excisemen on _my_
track, with tales of how it is I that know where you lie hid, and bring
you meat and drink. So it is that I cannot stir abroad now, no, not even
to the church o' Sundays, without having some rogue lurking at my heels
to watch my movements. And that is why I chose such a night to come
hither, knowing these knaves like dry skins, but never thinking that the
wind would blow like this. I am come to tell Block that 'tis not safe for
me to be so much in Purbeck, and that I dare no longer bring food or what
not, or these man-hounds will scent you out. Your leg is sound again, and
'tis best to be flitting while you may, and there's the _Eperon d'Or,_
and Chauvelais to give you welcome on the other side.'

I told him how Elzevir was gone this very night to Poole to settle with
the _Bonaventure_, when she should come to take us off; and at that
Ratsey seemed pleased. There were many things I wished to learn of him,
and especially how Grace did, but felt a shyness, and durst not ask him.
And he said no more for a minute, seeming low-hearted and crouching over
the fire. So we sat huddled in the corner by the glowing logs, the red
light flickering on the cave roof, and showing the lines on Ratsey's
face; while the steam rose from his drying clothes. The gale blew as
fiercely as ever, but the tide had fallen, and there was not so much
spray coming into the cave. Then Ratsey spoke again--

'My heart is very heavy, John, tonight, to think how all the good old
times are gone, and how that Master Block can never again go back to
Moonfleet. It was as fine a lander's crew as ever stood together, not
even excepting Captain Jordan's, and now must all be broken up; for this
mess of Maskew's has made the place too hot to hold us, and 'twill be
many a long day before another cargo's run on Moonfleet Beach. But how to
get the liquor out of Mohune's vault I know not; and that reminds me, I
have something in my pouches for Elzevir an' thee'; and with that he drew
forth either lapel a great wicker-bound flask. He put one to his lips,
tilting it and drinking long and deep, and then passed it to me, with a
sigh of satisfaction. 'Ah, that has the right smack. Here, take it,
child, and warm thy heart; 'tis the true milk of Ararat, and the last
thou'lt taste this side the Channel.'

Then I drank too, but lightly, for the good liquor was no stranger to me,
though it was only so few months ago that I had tasted it for the first
time in the Why Not? and in a minute it tingled in my fingertips. Soon a
grateful sense of warmth and comfort stole over me, and our state seemed
not so desperate, nor even the night so wild. Ratsey, too, wore a more
cheerful air, and the lines in his face were not so deeply marked; the
golden, sparkling influence of the flask had loosed his tongue, and he
was talking now of what I most wanted to hear.

'Yes, yes, it is a sad break-up, and what will happen to the old Why Not?
I cannot tell. None have passed the threshold since you left, only the
Duchy men came and sealed the doors, making it felony to force them. And
even these lawyer chaps know not where the right stands, for Maskew never
paid a rent and died before he took possession; and Master Block's term
is long expired, and now he is in hiding and an outlaw.

'But I am sorriest for Maskew's girl, who grows thin and pale as any
lily. For when the soldiers brought the body back, the men stood at their
doors and cursed the clay, and some of the fishwives spat at it; and old
Mother Veitch, who kept house for him, swore he had never paid her a
penny of wages, and that she was afear'd to stop under the same roof with
such an evil corpse. So out she goes from the Manor House, leaving that
poor child alone in it with her dead father; and there were not wanting
some to say it was all a judgement; and called to mind how Elzevir had
been once left alone with his dead son at the Why Not? But in the village
there was not a man that doubted that 'twas Block had sent Maskew to his
account, nor did I doubt it either, till a tale got abroad that he was
killed by a stray shot fired by the Posse from the cliff. And when they
took the hue-and-cry papers to the Manor House for his lass, as next of
kin, to sign the requisition, she would not set her name to it, saying
that Block had never lifted his hand against her father when they met at
Moonfleet or on the road, and that she never would believe he was the man
to let his anger sleep so long and then attack an enemy in cold blood.
And as for thee, she knew thee for a trusty lad, who would not do such
things himself, nor yet stand by whilst others did them.'

Now what Ratsey said was sweeter than any music in my ears, and I felt
myself a better man, as anyone must of whom a true woman speaks well, and
that I must live uprightly to deserve such praise. Then I resolved that
come what might I would make my way once more to Moonfleet, before we
fled from England, and see Grace; so that I might tell her all that
happened about her father's death, saving only that Elzevir had meant
himself to put Maskew away; for it was no use to tell her this when she
had said that he could never think to do such a thing, and besides, for
all I knew, he never did mean to shoot, but only to frighten him. Though
I thus resolved, I said nothing of it to Master Ratsey, but only nodded,
and he went on--

'Well, seeing there was no one save this poor girl to look to putting
Maskew under ground, I must needs take it in hand myself; roughing
together a sound coffin and digging as fair a grave for him as could be
made for any lord, except that lords have always vaults to sleep in. Then
I got Mother Nutting's fish-cart to carry the body down, for there was
not a man in Moonfleet would lay hand to the coffin to bear it; and off
we started down the street, I leading the wall-eyed pony, and the coffin
following on the trolley. There was no mourner to see him home except his
daughter, and she without a bit of black upon her, for she had no time to
get her crapes; and yet she needed none, having grief writ plain enough
upon her face.

'When we got to the churchyard, a crowd was gathered there, men and women
and children, not only from Moonfleet but from Ringstave and Monkbury.
They were not come to mourn, but to make gibes to show how much they
hated him, and many of the children had old pots and pans for rough
music. Parson Glennie was waiting in the church, and there he waited, for
the cart could not pass the gate, and we had no bearers to lift the
coffin. Then I looked round to see if there was any that would help to
lift, but when I tried to meet a man's eye he looked away, and all I
could see was the bitter scowling faces of the women. And all the while
the girl stood by the trolley looking on the ground. She had a little
kerchief over her head that let the hair fall about her shoulders, and
her face was very white, with eyes red and swollen through weeping. But
when she knew that all that crowd was there to mock her father, and that
there was not a man would raise hand to lift him, she laid her head upon
the coffin, hiding her face in her hands, and sobbed bitterly.'

Ratsey stopped for a moment and drank again deep at the flask; and as for
me, I still said nothing, feeling a great lump in my throat; and
reflecting how hatred and passion have power to turn men to brutes.

'I am a rough man,' Ratsey resumed, 'but tender-like withal, and when I
saw her weep, I ran off to the church to tell the parson how it was, and
beg him to come out and try if we two could lift the coffin. So out he
came just as he was, with surplice on his back and book in hand. But when
the men knew what he was come for, and looked upon that tall, fair girl
bowed down over her father's coffin, their hearts were moved, and first
Tom Tewkesbury stepped out with a sheepish air, and then Garrett, and
then four others. So now we had six fine bearers, and 'twas only women
that could still look hard and scowling, and even they said no word, and
not a boy beat on his pan.

'Then Mr. Glennie, seeing he was not wanted for bearer, changed to
parson, and strikes up with "I am the resurrection and the life". 'Tis a
great text, John, and though I've heard it scores and scores of times, it
never sounded sweeter than on that day. For 'twas a fine afternoon, and
what with their being no wind, but the sun bright and the sea still and
blue, there was a calm on everything that seemed to say "Rest in Peace,
Rest in Peace". And was not the spring with us, and the whole land
preaching of resurrection, the birds singing, trees and flowers waking
from their winter sleep, and cowslips yellow on the very graves? Then
surely 'tis a fond thing to push our enmities beyond the grave, and
perhaps even _he_ was not so bad as we held him, but might have tricked
himself into thinking he did right to hunt down the contraband. I know
not how it was, but something like this came into my mind, and did
perhaps to others, for we got him under without a sign or word from any
that stood there. There was not one sound heard inside the church or out,
except Mr. Glennie's reading and my amens, and now and then a sob from
the poor child. But when 'twas all over, and the coffin safe lowered, up
she walks to Tom Tewkesbury saying, through her tears "I thank you, sir,
for your kindness," and holds out her hand. So he took it, looking askew,
and afterwards the five other bearers; and then she walked away by
herself, and no one moved till she had left the churchyard gate, letting
her pass out like a queen.' 'And so she is a queen,' I said, not being
able to keep from speaking, for very pride to hear how she had borne
herself, and because she had always shown kindness to me. 'So she is, and
fairer than any queen to boot.'

Ratsey gave me a questioning look, and I could see a little smile upon
his face in the firelight. 'Ay, she is fair enough,' said he, as though
reflecting to himself, 'but white and thin. Mayhap she would make a match
for thee--if ye were man and woman, and not boy and girl; if she were not
rich, and thou not poor and an outlaw; and--if she would have thee.'

It vexed me to hear his banter, and to think how I had let my secret out,
so I did not answer, and we sat by the embers for a while without
speaking, while the wind still blew through the cave like a funnel.

Ratsey spoke first. 'John, pass me the flask; I can hear voices mounting
the cliff of those poor souls of the _Florida_.'

With that he took another heavy pull, and flung a log on the fire, till
sparks flew about as in a smithy, and the flame that had slumbered woke
again and leapt out white, blue, and green from the salt wood. Now, as
the light danced and flickered I saw a piece of parchment lying at
Ratsey's feet: and this was none other than the writing out of
Blackbeard's locket, which I had been reading when I first heard
footsteps in the passage, and had dropped in my alarm of hostile
visitors. Ratsey saw it too, and stretched out his hand to pick it up. I
would have concealed it if I could, because I had never told him how I
had rifled Blackbeard's coffin, and did not want to be questioned as to
how I had come by the writing. But to try to stop him getting hold of it
would only have spurred his curiosity, and so I said nothing when he took
it in his hands.

'What is this, son?' asked he.

'It is only Scripture verses,' I answered, 'which I got some time ago.
'Tis said they are a spell against Spirits of Evil, and I was reading
them to keep off the loneliness of this place, when you came in and made
me drop them.'

I was afraid lest he should ask whence I had got them, but he did not,
thinking perhaps that my aunt had given them to me. The heat of the
flames had curled the parchment a little, and he spread it out on his
knee, conning it in the firelight.

''Tis well written,' he said, 'and good verses enough, but he who put
them together for a spell knew little how to keep off evil spirits, for
this would not keep a flea from a black cat. I could do ten times better
myself, being not without some little understanding of such things,' and
he nodded seriously; 'and though I never yet met any from the other
world, they would not take me unprepared if they should come. For I have
spent half my life in graveyard or church, and 'twould be as foolish to
move about such places and have no words to meet an evil visitor withal,
as to bear money on a lonely road without a pistol. So one day, after
Parson Glennie had preached from Habakkuk, how that "the vision is for an
appointed time, but at the end it shall speak and not lie: though it
tarry, wait for it, because it will surely come, it will not tarry", I
talked with him on these matters, and got from him three or four rousing
texts such as spectres fear more than a burned child does the fire. I
will learn them all to thee some day, but for the moment take this Latin
which I got by heart: "_Abite a me in ignem etemum qui paratus est
diabolo at angelis ejus."_ Englished it means: "Depart from me into
eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels," but hath at least
double that power in Latin. So get that after me by heart, and use it
freely if thou art led to think that there are evil presences near, and
in such lonely places as this cave.' I humoured him by doing as he
desired; and that the rather because I hoped his thoughts would thus be
turned away from the writing; but as soon as I had the spell by rote he
turned back to the parchment, saying, 'He was but a poor divine who wrote
this, for beside choosing ill-fitting verses, he cannot even give right
numbers to them. For see here, "The days of our age are three-score years
and ten; and though men be so strong that they come to four-score years,
yet is their strength then but labour and sorrow, so soon passeth it away
and we are gone", and he writes Psalm 90,21. Now I have said that Psalm
with parson verse and verse about for every sleeper we have laid to rest
in churchyard mould for thirty years; and know it hath not twenty verses
in it, all told, and this same verse is the clerk's verse and cometh
tenth, and yet he calls it twenty-first. I wish I had here a Common
Prayer, and I would prove my words.'

He stopped and flung me back the parchment scornfully; but I folded it
and slipped it in my pocket, brooding all the while over a strange
thought that his last words had brought to me. Nor did I tell him that I
had by me my aunt's prayer-book, wishing to examine for myself more
closely whether he was right, after he should have gone.

'I must be away,' he said at last, 'though loath to leave this good fire
and liquor. I would fain wait till Elzevir was back, and fainer till this
gale was spent, but it may not be; the nights are short, and I must be
out of Purbeck before sunrise. So tell Block what I say, that he and thou
must flit; and pass the flask, for I have fifteen miles to walk against
the wind, and must keep off these midnight chills.'

He drank again, and then rose to his feet, shaking himself like a dog;
and walking briskly across the cave twice or thrice to make sure, as I
thought, that the Ararat milk had not confused his steps. Then he shook
my hand warmly, and disappeared in the deep shadow of the passage-mouth.

The wind was blowing more fitfully than before, and there was some sign
of a lull between the gusts. I stood at the opening of the passage, and
listened till the echo of Ratsey's footsteps died away, and then
returning to the corner, flung more wood on the fire, and lit the candle.
After that I took out again the parchment, and also my aunt's red
prayer-book, and sat down to study them. First I looked out in the book
that text about the 'days of our life', and found that it was indeed in
the ninetieth Psalm, but the tenth verse, just as Ratsey said, and not
the twenty-first as it was writ on the parchment. And then I took the
second text, and here again the Psalm was given correct, but the verse
was two, and not six, as my scribe had it. It was just the same with the
other three--the number of the Psalm was right but the verse wrong. So
here was a discovery, for all was painfully written smooth and clean
without a blot, and yet in every verse an error. But if the second number
did not stand for the verse, what else should it mean? I had scarce
formed the question to myself before I had the answer, and knew that it
must be the number of the word chosen in each text to make a secret
meaning. I was in as great a fever and excitement now as when I found the
locket in the Mohune vault, and could scarce count with trembling fingers
as far as twenty-one, in the first verse, for hurry and amaze. It was
'fourscore' that the number fell on in the first text, 'feet' in the
second, 'deep' in the third, 'well' in the fourth, 'north' in the fifth.

Fourscore--feet--deep--well--north.

There was the cipher read, and what an easy trick! and yet I had not
lighted on it all this while, nor ever should have, but for Sexton Ratsey
and his burial verse. It was a cunning plan of Blackbeard; but other folk
were quite as cunning as he, and here was all his treasure at our feet. I
chuckled over that to myself, rubbing my hands, and read it through
again:

Fourscore--feet--deep--well--north.

'Twas all so simple, and the word in the fourth verse 'well' and not
'vale' or 'pool' as I had stuck at so often in trying to unriddle it. How
was it I had not guessed as much before? and here was something to tell
Elzevir when he came back, that the clue was found to the cipher, and the
secret out. I would not reveal it all at once, but tease him by making
him guess, and at last tell him everything, and we would set to work at
once to make ourselves rich men. And then I thought once more of Grace,
and how the laugh would be on my side now, for all Master Ratsey's banter
about her being rich and me being poor!

Fourscore--feet-deep--well--north.

I read it again, and somehow it was this time a little less dear, and I
fell to thinking what it was exactly that I should tell Elzevir, and how
we were to get to work to find the treasure. 'Twas hid in a _well_--that
was plain enough, but in what well?--and what did 'north' mean? Was it
the _north well,_ or to _north of the well_--or, was it fourscore feet
_north_ of the _deep well_? I stared at the verses as if the ink would
change colour and show some other sense, and then a veil seemed drawn
across the writing, and the meaning to slip away, and be as far as ever
from my grasp. _Fourscore--feet--deep--well--north_: and by degrees
exulting gladness gave way to bewilderment and disquiet of spirit, and
in the gusts of wind I heard Blackbeard himself laughing and mocking me
for thinking I had found his treasure. Still I read and re-read it,
juggling with the words and turning them about to squeeze new meaning
from them.

'Fourscore feet deep _in the north well_,'--'fourscore feet deep in the
well _to north_'--'fourscore feet _north of the deep well_,'--so the
words went round and round in my head, till I was tired and giddy, and
fell unawares asleep.

It was daylight when I awoke, and the wind had fallen, though I could
still hear the thunder of the swell against the rock-face down below. The
fire was yet burning, and by it sat Elzevir, cooking something in the
pot. He looked fresh and keen, like a man risen from a long night's
sleep, rather than one who had spent the hours of darkness in struggling
against a gale, and must afterwards remain watching because, forsooth,
the sentinel sleeps.