Ande Trembath: A Tale of Old Cornwall England

"Gware wheag, yeo gware teag," roared Dick, as he seized Ande by the shoulders and engaged in a playful wrestle, in which, however, he was worsted, for the latter, though taken by surprise, soon had Dick down on the sward of the Bowling Green.

"Now," said he, "is it fair play for a wrestle, or is there something else in the wind? What's up?"

"Can't guess, old fellow?"

"No, unless it's hurling, my elephantine infant. There is nothing that stirs your blood like that. Is it hurling?"

"Aye, you've got it," and tumbling up from the sod, Dick shook his huge frame and adjusted his neckerchief that had become slightly awry in the brief wrestling match.

"Who's challenged the school?" asked Ande, with a little trace of excitement.

"The louts of Breage parish. Their captain, a husky chap, brought in a challenge. Squire Vivian, Sir James Lanyan, and other gentlemen put up a prize of ten pounds and a fine hurling ball to the victors. The hurling ball has a silver plate on it, with the old motto engraved on it, and the school decided to accept the challenge. The gentlemen are anxious for the school to wipe out an old score against Breage that happened years ago in a match against that parish. They are going to elect a captain of the school team and so I hurried off to find the Dane."

"Well, here I am, my husky Ajax," and Ande, seizing Dick's arm, hurried with him up to the Grammar School.

At the school there was bustle and excitement. The schoolroom was crowded with sixth and fifth form boys, and the interest of the lesser forms was noticed in the babbling of many tongues. Jordan, the monitor, the sage of the sixth, presided, and rapped for order, and the mass of lads crowded to their respective places. In calm, even tones, he speaks.

"We know why we are here. The captain of the Breage hurlers has just left us with our acceptance of the challenge to a hurling match. For the glory and honour of the school, and to wipe out an old score against us, we are going to play them, though they have forty stout fellows, and we are a little deficient in number. We are going to make up in training and zeal what we lack in number, and we are going to win the prize. But a great deal depends upon the captain we elect to lead us. He must be skilful, active, resourceful. In the election we must not be influenced by favouritism, but by worth. The sixth has heretofore always had the captain, but in this match I would recommend that the fifth be eligible also. If there is no objection, we will proceed to elect a captain from the sixth and fifth."

There were a few murmurs of disapproval from the sixth, but no open objections, so the election proceeded. Jordan was wise in his bringing in the fifth as eligible to the captaincy, for in that form were the best hurlers, the strongest, the most daring.

In the first ballot there was a scattering of votes, but the chief candidates were Ande and Dick, the latter on account of his experience and strength, the former on account of his activity, mental and physical.

Once more the ballots were taken and Ande won. There was a cheer, in which Dick heartily joined, for he had been urging the lads from the beginning to choose his friend.

And now began the enlisting of the team. To even up the deficiency in numbers, several of the town's expert hurlers were admitted.

The next evening, on the Bowling Green, began the practice and training. There was wrestling, running, tumbling, jumping, and kindred exercises to improve the agility and endurance of the crew. Three times a week there was a long run to Porthleven, and even to Breage and back, to improve the wind of the team, and get them more thoroughly acquainted with the ground. Dick and a few others needed constant practice to improve their quickness and activity.

The eventful day came at length, in the beautiful month of April, and forth from Helston sallied the hurling crew, followed by a hurrahing company of spectators. Halfway between the parishes the Breage men were lined up, with the gentlemen on one side to start the ball. Ande and the Breage captain consulted with the gentlemen about the rules.

"The object is to carry the ball, as soon as it is touched off, to your respective towns and hurl the same in through the open parish church doors," said Squire Vivian.

"Aye, us knaws that," said the Breage man, "but how about rules? Wrastling, passing, hurling, all to be allowed in the old style, or be there any changes?"

"All to be done in the old style unless you wish, both of you, to make modifications," said another of the gentlemen.

No modifications being advanced the captains returned to their stations and began to arrange their men. Then Ande anxiously consults with Dick and the other leaders of his side. He is once more outlining his signals. He has a small boatswain's whistle. One blast signifies close up on the ball; two sharp blasts means scatter out in the rear; three blasts, in quick succession, call the attention of the dogs to expected action on their part. Jordan nods his head gravely, as he listens to the captain, Dick shakes himself like a great mastiff, as if he would rather be engaged in active play than listen to rules. The gentlemen are sizing up the players and putting bets on either side, according to their fancy.

The heavy players, with Dick in the centre, are well up in front. There are some twenty of these, and they will make their weight and prowess felt ere the game is over. Back of them stands the captain, and back still beyond him, some ten players of lighter build, upon whose quickness and agility depend much. But who are those some two hundred yards farther back on the road to Helston? They are lighter players from the fourth and third forms, hard as pine knots, trained to perfection in fleetness of foot, and able to dodge and race like hares. They are the captain's latest addition to the efficiency of his team. They are to serve in the capacity of "dogs," as Ande calls them. They are to watch their chances; not to engage in the scrimmages where weight will tell, but to grasp the ball when opportunity comes, and speed with it to their own goal. Notice them playfully wrestling with each other, filling in the time until the game opens.

The Breage men are not thus trained or lined up. They depend more upon individual action and weight of their numbers than tactics. But now there is a movement up in front. The players are all in position.

"Are you ready?" shouts a gentleman, preparatory to casting off the ball. He is standing to one side, in front of the other gentlemen and spectators, and is holding the new hurling ball in his hand.

An affirmative answer is given from both captains, and up goes the ball in the air, midway between the two contesting parties. The next instant there is a charge of both heavy brigades for its possession as it descends. An outstretched hand catches it, and then there is a furious heap of wriggling arms and legs, and then who is it that is speeding away towards Breage, with a shout of triumph on his lips? It is the Breage captain. He is fully determined to race at that speed the two miles intervening between him and his own parish church, and he is going to hurl the ball, now in his possession, in through the Breage church door, and thus win the game. But not so fast. Two miles is quite a stretch, and there is some one on his track. Out from behind the mass of prone players leaps a form, like a horse and rider from the clouds of battle smoke. In one bound he has cleared the heap of wriggling bodies on the ground, and then, with the speed of a greyhound, he is after the Breage man. Will he overtake him? Oh, yes. If he can't, no one else can. Dick and his sub-lieutenants rest from their exertions. They are confident that the ball will be back ere long. A cheer goes up from the heavy brigade of the Helston players.

"He has him!"

"He has downed him!"

"He has the ball!"

It was true. The school captain had leaped on the back of the runner, and with a cute, wrestling trick brought him to the ground. The ball flew out of his hand and was possessed the next instant by the Helston captain, who was now returning with full speed. But now a new obstacle presents itself in the shape of the great mass of Breage players. Will he charge through them, elude them? No, there are too many for that. There are two shrill blasts on the boatswain's whistle, and along the Helston road, in the rear of their heavy brigade, scatter out the school men. They understand the signal and are ready to catch the ball. Then, just as the Breage men are upon him, out goes the hand, and with the full force of his muscular right arm, the ball is hurled full a hundred and fifty yards, over their heads, on the way to Helston.

A member of the light brigade caught it and was racing the next moment with might and main toward the town. There is a whoop and hallo among the dogs, as with their best efforts they strive to keep ahead of the runner, to be ready for an emergency throw, should he be overtaken. And now, in the rear, great Dick and his warriors of the heavy brigade get in their work, and work it is. It is no easy task for twenty or thirty fellows to stop and hinder the forty husky Breage men that are resolved to overtake the runner. Dick is in his element. He has profited by Captain Ande's training. In a twinkling he has thrown a half a dozen players to the ground, and is preparing to actively hinder others. The Breage men are swearing under their breath. But "Old Ironsides," as the boys dubbed Dick after his memorable encounter with Ande, could not handle all, and some there were that escaped around the wings and were speeding after the Helston player. It is Ande, the captain, who sees the danger.

There is a sharp blast on the whistle, the signal for the heavy brigade to close up on the ball. The light brigade are no match in a scrimmage against the great Breage men. They must have the assistance of the heavy brigade, and away go the heavy first line men, Dick lumbering along in a clumsy gallop, yet with considerable speed.

Three sharp blasts on the captain's whistle, and the dogs prepare with alertness, for action. And it is time, for a Breage man has seized the Helston runner. He promptly hurls on the ball. It is caught by one of the dogs in front, who sets off with it at full speed, accompanied by his fellows. These young striplings have not raced over moors and downs in the game of fox and hounds for nothing. See how he runs, dodging the great Breage men, who are now almost upon him. Ah, he is caught at last, but the ball is in the hands of another dog, passed to him rapidly in the time of danger. But now the light brigade are also among the dogs, and the heavy brigade is following up fast in the rear. The Breage men have been split into two factions, fifteen of them in front, among the light brigade, the others still in the rear of the heavy brigade men of the school team.

The second dog is caught, but he has time to hurl the ball to a light brigade runner near him, who as promptly hurls it on to the light runners ahead. One of the dogs seizes it and instantly diverges from the road to the fields. He realises that he has a much better chance among the hedges and fields than on the highroad with the big runners of Breage. Over the hedge go the runners of Breage. A little farther on the Helston light brigade men also leap the hedge and seek to hinder their progress. The heavy brigade follow suit. And now follows a battle royal. Helston and Breage men are close on the ball, and the Breage men are battling hard, for the town of Helston is but a scant quarter of a mile distant.

A crowd of sightseers line the road and hedges, for is not this for the glory of Helston and her grammar school? Labourers, with their shovels on their shoulders, farmers, with their produce, all are anxiously watching. They have come to see the ball brought in. They know it will be victory for the school, now it is so near.

Bravos, hurrahs, sound on all sides. The dogs and light brigade men are jubilant with expectation. The brook, or river Cober, is in sight. Could the runner make the bridge, or even dash through the flood, victory seemed sure. But no, there is a swift Breage man on his track, and bids fair to overtake him. He has him, and he hurls the ball toward town.

It was an unlucky throw, for splash!—it is in the river. Nothing daunted, a light brigade man has leaped in after it, and then a Breage man on top of him, and then others, until the little stream is choked with wrestling bodies, heaving, gasping, and the air is full of spray.

"'E 'as it! Bravo!" shouted the enthusiastic Helston spectators.

"Now, clear the way for un!" shouted a town beadle, as he made the people stand back to give the runner a clear track to their own town.

To their dismay and open-mouthed chagrin, it was the Breage captain that leaped out of the stream, ball in hand, and charging like a bull through the light brigade men, he scatters them right and left like chaff before the wind. With a whoop and hallo, the heavy brigade strive to block him, but he makes a detour, leaps another hedge, and is speeding through another field. What matter brambles or thorns, the game must be saved for Breage.

"Ah! dear! dear! us thought 'e was our man, but it 'twas t'other side," said some Helston labourers, as they gazed after the rapidly receding players.

"Ah wadn't fair, so ah wadn't," said others, disconsolately.

"Us may as well go back to market; the day is lost for Helston," said several farmers, as they turned from the scene.

"Man alive! Did 'ee see 'ow 'e runned. Ah runned like a white-head."

With many similar expressions, the crowd of spectators melted away.

But follow the runner of Breage. By leaping successive hedges he has distanced the pursuers, but he is some degree out of his course, and makes obliquely for the highway. The Helston players perceive his purpose, and gain the highway first. Here they can make faster progress. By the time the Breage captain vaults the hedge with a few of his fellows, the van of the Helston crew, their captain in the lead, is but a hundred yards in the rear. And now comes a race with fair footing. The heavy brigade is closing up fast, and the light and dogs running rapidly in the rear. He is overtaken at last, but the ball is hurled onward to Breage. A Breage runner seizes it and speeds rapidly onward. It was now Breage's chance, and they were doing their best. Ande blew his whistle valiantly for his men to close up on the ball. And close up they did, running with a will. The course again diverged from the highway and approached near the coast. He is downed at last without chance to hurl the ball. Quickly on top of him pile the other runners in the lead.

"Off of me; I've lost the ball!"

It was the Breage man underneath who had shouted, and the five or six players on top of him slowly arose, gazed at each other, then for the hurling ball, but it had disappeared as if by magic.

The players arrived one by one, panting hard with their exertion, but the ball was not found. A new ball was forthcoming for the emergency, tossed off by a ploughman, and the fierce contest renewed. All the remainder of the afternoon the battle went on, victory favouring, smiling, on one side, then on the other. The players showed the effect of their hard usage. The dogs were torn and bleeding with brambles and thorns, and of the hue of earth from their constant contact with it. The larger players were also battered and soiled, but they only played the harder. Sunset was approaching and gilded the western heavens with hues of scarlet. The ball was once more stopped within a quarter-mile of Helston. The brook, or river Cober, had been passed. The heavy brigade, the light brigade, and even the dogs, were mingled in one great heap with Breage men. Who had the ball was a mystery. A Breage runner had it when he went down. It was Dick who downed him. The Breage men were desperate, the school men determined. Tenny, Creakle, Jordan, and others resolved that the ball should not leave them thus close to victory.

But suddenly the great mound was heaved and tossed like the earth undulated by an earthquake.

"Pin 'im down! Hold un!" roared the Breage captain. "E's their man, and 'e's got the ball!"

The dogs and lighter men nimbly stepped aside to make way and assist their own runner. The Breage players made a last futile effort to hold the runner down.

"'Old un! 'Old un! damme, can none hold un!" shouted the Breage captain, in wrath at the apparent weakness of his men.

Frantically the Breage men piled on the heap, but of no avail, for there crept at that moment from the mound a great hulking form with the ball. He was on his feet the next instant and speeding away toward town, cheered on by the dogs and light brigade and spectators.

The Breage captain, with an oath of rage, hurling to right and left, like feathers, his own and the school men that impeded him, leaped upon the brawny runner's shoulders and sought to bring him to earth; but though hampered, the Helston runner strode on.

Now, like the phalanx of an army, the school men spread out, and with blocking tactics, withheld those that would follow. On went the runner, unimpeded, save by the human burden on his shoulders, the Breage captain, who in vain sought to drag him down. The ascent to old St. Michael's was reached at last, and up went the runner, striding on. It was harder progress now, but the open church door was near. Another few yards and the game was won. He is there at last. The runner's arm shoots out. The Breage captain strives in vain to catch and deter the aim, but the ball is gone, flung with unerring hand straight through the open tower door. The victory was won. Helston school had wiped out the score against Breage.

What cheers and what bravos resounded on all sides! The bells of old St. Michael's pealed out in concert with the acclamations of the people. The Breage crew were humiliated, especially the captain, but on every other countenance there was the gladness of victory won.

A feast was held in the school that night on a part of the prize money. Jordan was master of ceremonies. Around him clustered the warriors of the day, their garments, wet and soiled, now changed to clean and dry. With his arm extended for silence, he exclaimed:

"Who saved the day and brought in the ball with the Breage captain on his back? Who saved the game?"

"Dick Thomas!" was the roaring answer.

"Here's a huzza for Old Ironsides!" shouted another.

The cheer was given and the toast followed, and then they sang, "For He's a Jolly Good Fellow."

"A speech, Dick," shouted some one.

Dick arose and there was more cheering. "Well, I don't know whether old Dick Dullhead can make a speech."

Here there were protests of "No Dullhead any more, but Old Ironsides."

"Well, I want to drink a toast and I want you all to drink the same. Here's to the fellow that made Dick Dullhead a name and fellow of the past, and made me Dick Ironsides instead. Here's to the one that trained all of us so faithfully and well that each one of us had the swiftness, strength, and endurance to win the game. Here's to the fellow that so trained me that I was able to carry both ball and Breage captain to the goal. Here's to our valiant captain, Ande Trembath."

There was a storm of cheers as they responded; but where was Ande?

Though he had been missed since the regular ball had disappeared, yet every one had supposed him among the crowd somewhere. Now calls for the captain were on all sides, but he was not present.

The majority, believing that he was out, but would be in shortly, kept up the feasting, singing, and speaking.

Dick, after an inquiry here and there, went out and disappeared in the night.

CHAPTER XVII

Then there was a shock, a sharp pain and,—all was a blank.

When he returned to consciousness, he was on a cot with a rough, kindly face bending over him.

"Drink, m'lad, it'll do 'ee good. Clunk un all down."

He felt something at his lips and mechanically swallowed it. The liquor, or whatever it was, revived him in a short time and he sat up.

"Where am I? Am I hurt?"

He slowly placed his hand to his head and felt a bandage around it.

"Ah, I remember now. I fell in the hurling game, but I still have the ball." Ande gazed around and found himself in what appeared an ordinary fisherman's cabin, rough and uncouth, but still comfortable. Fishing tackle hung here and there and there was an odd, fishy smell. A few cheap prints hung on the wall and there was a window through which a glimpse of the sea was visible.

"Why, bless 'ee, young sir, I thought 'ee would never come round, so Ah did; Ah was holding my breath to see whether 'ee was mazed by the fall or 'ad come round, and I'm glad 'tez the latter. But, bless 'ee, what a fall! Damme, it was worse than a blow of a cutlass."

It was the voice of the attendant who had been bending over him; he was to all appearances a simple fisherman, clad in rough fisherman's clothes, and with a shaggy crop of hair that needed much the barber's art.

"And what place is this?"

"This es Prussia Cove."

A revelation dawned upon the mind of the captain of the Helston hurlers. He had often heard of Prussia Cove and its famous smuggling hero, Captain Carter, who, on account of his great resemblance to Frederick the Great, was named the "King of Prussia." Many a keg of brandy and bale of silk and lace found its way into the neighbourhood of Helston through him. Many a landlord and poor peasant profited by this illicit trade. But smuggling was not esteemed a crime by the people. The government, by imposing duties on imports, was viewed partly in the light of a tyrant and justly to be opposed and hoodwinked. The people loved the smuggler better than the king. Even rectors of the church considered smuggling an honourable occupation and the smuggler a brave citizen seeking a livelihood. The government itself was not bitterly opposed to it, at least such was its position until after the Napoleonic wars, for by smuggling a hardy race of seamen was bred that laid, primarily, England's prestige on the sea.

The lad, like many others, felt a kindly interest in them and looked for their welfare.

"And you are the King of Prussia?"

"Not 'zackly," said the man with a smile; "I'm just 'is prime minister on land."

"The watchman?"

"Aye, and I saw 'ee a-tumbling down the cliff just now and brought 'ee in. I thought 'ee was done for, sure."

"And the King?"

"Is out on the King's highway taking a walk."

"By which you mean that he is out on the sea, and is expected home to-night?"

"'Zackly so."

"I'm much obliged for your kind care; and now I feel able to stand I'll have to be travelling after the boys, for it's getting dusk."

"I think 'ee had better stay, at least until the King comes, for 'ow do I know but what 'ee favours the coastguard."

There was an anxious and cunning look in the watchman's eye.

"Well, just as you say; I'll stay."

The adventure of coming in contact with the watchman and the idea of meeting the celebrated King of Prussia harmonised with the lad's daring spirit and he was not loathe to remain.

"That's right, better so, and 'ee'll see a fine sight," nodded the watchman, relieved of much of his fears. "And now I suppose 'ee'rt hungry, leastways I be, and we'll 'ave a bit of scrowled pilchards and say biscuit."

The watchman set about the little cabin preparing the evening meal for himself and guest and became quite communicative. Exploits of the King of Prussia, his smuggling trips, his hairbreadth escapes, his great courage, all formed the burden of his tales. Ande listened and felt more and more the desire to meet this hero of the smuggling trade. The supper was ready and together watchman and hurling captain fell to with a will, the latter eating with the gusto that the hard day's game naturally brought.

In the meantime the night settled in dark and stormy. For some time there had been dark, leaden clouds pendant upon the western horizon and a low, weird murmuring, increasing to a sullen, muffled growl as of many beasts, mad with hunger in a jungle fastness. With the increasing wind the leaden mass burdening the horizon rolled steadily inward, a roof of tumbling blackness, now still, then rolling on, and fretted here and there with jagged gleams of lightning. There was a crashing roll of thunder like the peal of many guns.

"Hark!" said the watchman, raising his fork in midair; "just as I thought, a storm a-coming; so much the better for the King. A storm brings a clear coast, and yet I wish the captain was ashore, for there's going to be uncommon 'igh wind."

More thunder and more violent wind, and the waves along the shore, that generally rollicked and played with boulders and companion cliffs, began to rear their foam crowned heads and bellow back in harmony with the thunder tones above, beating the defiant rocks with a scourge of green watery thongs. The sea-gulls were silenced by the increasing roar and sought safety in the crannies of the cliffs. And now the full force of the storm was on, and even in the retired cove was its power felt, for the small window panes began to rattle and vibrate as if moved by a spirit of unrest.

"'Ark!" said the watchman, as he pushed back his chair and arose hurriedly. There was a sound of a solitary gun at sea, heard in the lull of the wind, and then through the window was seen the shooting course of a rocket, comet-like, athwart the stormy sky.

"Ah! The King is coming in, and 'ard pressed too. Damme, the government dogs are after 'im. Now there was a time when a man could earn a decent living without 'aving 'is lugger sent to Davy Jones' locker, but now—damme—there's another gun! Les out and give 'im a light! Bear a hand there with that lantern."

The watchman jerked an oilskin on his back and a sou'wester on his head, and casting a hasty glance at the cabin, turned and bolted through the door, closely followed by his companion.

Without the storm was not much felt in the sequestered cove, although there were occasional blasts of wind that penetrated the harbour entrance, terrific in force, and seemed to fairly take their breath on their exit. Above, streaks of twilight were still visible, and flying, scudding fragments of clouds driven on the blast. Then came sleet and hail that stung the face like needles. The lad staggered a moment almost blinded by the withering, hail-burdened wind.

"Avast a bit, lad," roared the watchman, and running back and securing an oilskin and sou'wester, "'ere, stow tha cargo in that," handing the oilskin, "and clap that on your main-top," handing the great sou'wester. Lights were stationed on both points of the narrow entrance and they returned to the beach where they awaited. There was a fascination in the great waves and breakers, hurling themselves from the gloom like vast mountains of green darkness toward the cove's entrance, where they would shiver themselves to pieces with a deep roar, augmented by its reverberating throughout the hollow length of the harbour.

Then as they watched, a higher wave than usual seemed to approach the entrance—nearer and nearer, larger and larger, until it seemed to fill the narrow cove's mouth from cliff to cliff, and threatened engulfment of cove and all in one watery grave. The wind ceased for a moment. The feeling Ande had was inexpressible.

"See!" he roared to the smuggler watchman, "see, it'll sweep the whole cove!" He was turning to bound up the cliff, when the watchman seized him.

"Avast, lad, 'tez only the lugger."

True, it was the lugger, that with shortened, bellying sails, rushed in like a thing of life, and so great was her momentum that there was danger of her beaching. The skipper was a skilful hand, and not new at his business, which he demonstrated by the quickness of his orders. A cry of command, and in a twinkling all sails were neatly folded and closely reefed. Another command, and gently the smuggler vessel drew in to the landing.

A scene of apparent confused activity instantly ensued. Kegs of brandy, bales of silk, and rich fabrics were hurled recklessly out on the sands, and numbers of hardy frames, springing from the very earth, bore them away in the darkness. There was a hollow boom beyond the entrance, and a solid shot sped in through the cove mouth, swept across the sand, and buried itself in the cliff beyond. There were oaths, loud and deep, from the husky, straining figures at work in the lugger and on shore, but they paused not. Ande's attention was concentrated upon one who seemed the chief, standing on the landing, giving orders, and, as he turned, he was startled by the intense resemblance of the countenance to a picture he had seen once of Frederick of Prussia. He was of ordinary height, a little inclined to stoutness, and had fair hair, and blue eyes that flashed under the light of the flaming torches; his regular, delicate features had great power of expression. With an oath, he saw Ande, and grasped him by the shoulder with a grip of steel.

"Who art thou, lad?"

The explanation of his supper companion, the watchman, was forthcoming, and with a word of apology the captain turned to other and more pressing affairs.

Again came the booming sound at sea,—this time closer—and another shot sped through the entrance. The revenue cutter was nearing the cove-mouth, but the smugglers were prepared for a grim resistance. Pikes and cutlasses were gleaming on all sides.

"Zounds!" muttered Captain Carter, "they'll be upon us in another moment, and that before we 'ave time to store the cargo. Up aloft, there, Jack, on the headland, and see if you can't beat off the dogs. Open on them with solid ball," he roared, after the watchman, who was already climbing the ascent. Ande, totally forgetting his injuries in the excitement, sped up after him.

Up, up, up, following the flickering light of the watchman's lantern, he went. And now the wind became more violent, the higher the ascent, until near the top he was scarcely able to stand.

"Larboard, port your helm, there!" shouted the voice of Jack, and he was seized by that worthy and dragged into a less exposed place. "No man could stand in a gale like this any further up," shouted Jack in his ear. Another step or two, and a sequestered place was reached, where were stationed two pieces of ancient ordnance, and Jack and Ande were speedily loading, and none too soon, for down below, the cutter's lights were seen a short distance from the entrance.

There was a flash and then a roar, and the ball was on its mission.

"Too high. Better luck next time. But I swear that I thought that 'ould 'a' gone amidships. I do think old Nick must a-turned un aside, I do."

"It's had some effect, for they are beating off," answered Ande.

"That's to get a shot at we. They're luffing. But we'll tap them first, I say. 'Ere, let's give 'em another."

Again was the flash and roar from the cliff, and Jack fairly chuckled, as one of the lanterns was snuffed out.

"Took a part of 'er taffrail that time."

But now the cutter was ready for action, and boom went one of her guns, and the next moment a ball struck the cliff below them, splintering the rock into fragments. Then again the cliff guns spoke, answered once more by the cutter's, and soon the action became general. The roar of the cliff guns and the revenue cutter's mingled with the howling blast, and made the night hideous with noise. Though so far above the sea, yet the spray of crashing breakers frequently swept over them as they worked the cliff guns, and it and the occasional flying sleet, at times, so dampened the powder that the guns had to be recharged.

Ande was in his element. Here was a real battle, and he paused not to think that he was firing upon a government boat. The wild soldier blood of his ancestors was coursing through his veins like molten fire. He had cast aside the sou'wester hat, as obstructing his vision, and truly he looked a martial figure with his bandaged head and flowing locks swept by the blast.

In the midst of the detonating roar, a figure bounded from the gloom behind them. Jack, with a sulphurous oath, swung his cutlass on high, thinking that some revenue men had landed and were charging, but Ande grasped the blade before it could descend. Although he cut his own hand badly in the act, yet he saved the stranger's life.

"Dick!"

"Ande!"

It was Dick, who, searching in the locality for his friend, was attracted by the noise of battle. He asked no questions, but stolidly set to work to assist in charging and firing the guns. At length the cutter's guns were fairly silenced; she had been beaten off and her lights were seen fainter and fainter in her hasty retreat out to sea.

"Now, stand by, men; one more shot to let them remember Captain Carter and Prussia Cove."

It was the gunner, Jack, who spoke, as he finished aiming the last piece. There was another flash, and away bounded the iron messenger. A moment and one of the lights of the distant cutter was quenched, as if the bay had engulfed it.

"As I'm a sinner, ef that didn't go straight through their cabin winders. And now, les down below and see 'ow fares the captain and the cargo."

They descended and found the King of Prussia in excellent humour. The whole cargo had been safely landed and concealed in numerous secret places, and even the lugger had mysteriously disappeared.

"And let's shake hands with our new comrades of the night," said the captain, as he grasped the hands of Ande and Dick. "You 'ave shown us your good will to-night, and ye had better now turn in and get a bit of rest afore morning, when, if ye are so minded, you can take the way back to Helston. But, mind 'ee, my lads, no word of to-night's affair."

Both accepted the generous invitation of Captain Carter, and weary with the double exertion of a hurling game and the smugglers' battle, they soon lost themselves in the land of dreams.

On the morrow they were awakened by voices in angry altercation without. The cutter had returned, but slightly damaged, and had landed a force in the cove capable of sweeping all opposition. But there was no opposition, nothing incriminating being found. Even the very guns on the cliff had disappeared, and the marks of numerous feet on the shore were partly obliterated by the tide. The lads, cautiously peering out from the small window, saw the King of Prussia angrily expostulating with the captain of the cutter. Prussia was clad in an ordinary fisherman's garb, and seemed what he professed to be by those garments.

"Damme," he was saying, "'tez a downright shame that my family and I, peaceful folks, have to 'ave our slumbers disturbed by the banging of your practice guns all night. Why doan't 'ee practice out at sea?"

The captain of the cutter was nonplussed, apologised slightly, and reëmbarked with his crew. Carter came into the cabin with a merry twinkle in his eye. The lads were convulsed with laughter.

"And now," said the captain, "I suppose it is time for 'ee to be going," and he pressed into their hands a small package, which later investigation proved to be a jar of currant wine. On the highway, Ande told Dick of his accident and his possession of the first hurling ball.

When they arrived at the Grammar School, they were notified to appear before the head. Mr. Trewan was seated at his desk, and looked at the two culprits very gravely, for to be absent all night was a serious offence. Then the grave look gave place to one of anxious concern, as Ande's bandaged head and hand caught his vision. Explanations were made, the fall over the cliff, the period of unconsciousness, and Dick's search the greater part of the night for his friend. The battle of the smugglers was not touched, as they deemed that treachery to their smuggler friends.

Mr. Trewan seemed touched by the accident, and the devotion of Dick, and let them both off without even a reprimand.

That night there was another festive scene, but in the fifth form dormitory instead of in the dining hall, and in it the currant wine formed a prominent part.

CHAPTER XVIII

"Belshassar's feast. I have an idea."

"Whisper it not in Gath, publish it not in Ascalon. An idea," chuckling, "from an egg-regious Lizard philosopher."

"Egg-nogg," continued Dick, grinning.

"The very thing," said Ande, assuming a more sober tone, "but where?"

"We must first get outside of town," said Dick, soberly.

"No stealing?"

"No stealing."

"'Pon honour?"

"'Pon honour."

Forth they started, cautiously slipping downstairs and out into the street, where both darted away at a rapid pace. On the highroad that led to the little town of Prospidnic, the foremost paused, and puffing like an engine the latter caught up to him.

"Ande, remember the Truro champion footrace?"

Ande nodded.

"Well, I believe 'ee could beat the champion; you went so fast I nigh lost sight of you."

"Now, what's your plan?"

Dick paused a moment to gain his breath, and then spoke.

"Do ye remember the cave near the Red River? Well, the ducks from all around gather there. It's public property, being on the free downs. Eggs used to be there in plenty, but some snivelling squire's steward put a door on it and now tries to bag the industry."

"Art sure the squire didn't buy the section?"

"Well, if he 'as, the ducks that gather there are not his, and 'e 'asn't a mortgage on the eggs of futurity infinitum. The squire's steward is the robber of public rights and human freedom, and——"

"Public eggs," said Ande. "Down with the tyrant,—sic semper tyrannis—and up with the eggs."

Onward they pressed at a dog-trot. It was evening and getting dusk when they reached the neighbourhood.

"You go in, Dick, and I'll mount watchman."

The door was the contrivance of a genius, for, while it was designed to hold out boys and men, yet a small aperture beneath favored the entrance of ducks and other smaller creatures. The cave was in the side of a hill near the Red River stream, and opened on the roadway.

"I'll go in as soon as I get un open," says Dick, as he wrenched at the latch. By dint of tugging and pulling, the hasp was loosened, and in went Dick, crawling on his hands and knees, the height of the tunnel not permitting him to walk upright.

"Hast found any?"

"No, steward must 'ave been here. 'Tis a most beastly place and nigh turns one's stomach," muttered Dick from the interior.

There was the sound of a horse's tread in the distance, and the sound of whistling approaching. Fearing that the open door would excite suspicion, Ande gently closed it, and the hasp being a spring affair, fell into place. Then, stealing cautiously behind a neighbouring hedge, he awaited the passing of the traveller.

Dick, having made certain and wealthy discoveries in the egg line, his bag full and certain pockets bulged to their utmost, was, in the meantime, cautiously returning to the exit, where, before he knew it, he had bumped with the force of a battering ram against the closed door. It would not yield to any of his efforts, and then, thinking Ande was joking him, he cried out in impatient voice, "Lemme out, Ande, do, I got eggs a-plenty." Receiving no answer, he began butting afresh, and roared louder.

Now the horseman had approached and heard the infernal roaring and racket that seemed to come from the very bowels of the earth. He was a simple, unsophisticated countryman, with an appetite for ale and a passion for thievery that was well known to the community. Greggs, as he was surnamed, was not noted for his personal courage, and the loneliness of the place, even in daylight, the gloom of the overshadowing trees, and the dusk of twilight, was not calculated to make or add any more heroism to his nature. Within his breast, as within all countrymen of the time, and even still, in many districts, there had constantly been drilled the old beliefs in witches, fairies, giants, goblins, and a host of other superstitions with which Cornwall has been replete for ages. It was no wonder, then, that when he came within the border of the shadow, etched darkly by the trees, he whistled louder, and finally burst into singing a hymn tune, to let all wandering spirits realise that he was a godly fellow, kicking his steed all the while to hasten its ambling pace.

"Got eggs—lemme out—Ande—lemme out!"

The horse stood stock still, refusing to budge an inch forward, and trembling in great terror. In vain the fearful man began to belabour and kick his leathery sides; the animal would not go forward, but began to uneasily sidle around and around. The butting and bellowing of Dick still continued, with little intermission. Greggs ceased singing, the great drops of perspiration stood out in beads on his face, and with another frantic effort he kicked his horse's sides in an agony of fear. Then, as the butting was renewed with greater force, a cry came from Greggs's lips:

"Oh, Mr. Devil, 'ave mercy 'pon me!"

Dick was indefatigable in his butting and bellowing, but even his patience began to give way and he began to swear in a mild way.

"Damme, Ande, come take eggs!"

Each word was punctuated by a savage butt from Dick's great head on the door.

"Oh, no, Mr. Devil,—not that—Greggs done no 'arm," mistaking Dick's cry for the devil's warning "Damnation to Greggs."

Again came the stifled underground roar, coming forth with a muffled: "Take—(crash)—eggs—(crash)—damme—(crash)"—and a word beginning with h.

"Mercy, Mr. Devil, doan't 'ee take Greggs there. Ah, why did I leave the hangel tavern!"

"Damnation!"

"No, no, Mr. Devil."

"A beastly trick," roared Dick, still butting away.

"Aye, kind sir, I'm guilty of many beastly tricks."

"Ande, you deceiving cad."

"Yes, I confess I 'ave deceived dad."

"Here I am—beating m'head."

"Aye, I beat un on the 'ead, too," moaned Greggs.

"Like a thieving robber."

"Yes, Mr. Devil, I robbed un, but 'ave mercy. I promise to take un all back," groaned Greggs, in terror, still kicking his steed, that shied around and around.

"Come, take the bag, you wretched cad."

"Aye, I promise; I'll take the bag back to dad."

"It's full," roared Dick.

"No, no, it was honly 'alf full."

"Zounds!" swore Dick.

"Pounds! No 'e wadn't; they were mostly shillings."

"Let me out!"

"No! Doan't 'ee come out. I promise, Mr. Devil—Oh!—--"

The last remark of Greggs gave place to a shriek of agonised fear. The door, under repeated blows of Dick, gave way, and out he rolled with his bag of eggs, looking in the darkness like a hideous monster come up from the deep. The horse, in mad terror, wheeled and galloped back to town; Greggs, praying and howling like a madman, hugging his horse's neck, let fall his basket in the way. Ande was rolling in the grass beyond the hedge, choking with laughter.

Dick was a picture of wrath, as he stood sputtering by the road-side. His clothes were foul, the natural result of crawling into a duck cave, and he was apparently sick at the stomach.

"What's wrong, Dick?"

"A beastly trick,—phew—ah, egg—phew—ah, in mouth,—phew—ah—addled—broke."

Ande roared and roared with shrieking laughter. Dick had filled the bag and his pockets, and finding one extra one, had placed it in his mouth for safe keeping, just before the latch gave way.

"Well," said Ande, "they aren't all broke, and the most must be good."

Dick, at first was very much incensed, but Ande, while he helped to clean him up at the Red River, explained how he had closed the door to avert suspicion. Dick was mollified when the description of Greggs's terrors was related, and laughed a faint laugh that partly brought back his good humour.

It appeared that Greggs had ill-treated his poor old father, and had robbed him of some of his savings. Taking warning from the supposed admonition of his Satanic majesty, he afterward treated his father with the greatest consideration, refunding the shillings he had stolen. Nothing, however, could induce him to pass that way again, and the story getting wind and becoming much exaggerated, few would trust themselves in that locality after dusk.

"Whew! Look here, Dick." Ande picked up the basket and drew from it a small bottle of rye.

"The very thing we need," gasped Dick, "the egg-nog shall become punch."

"I don't know, Dick. You see, if we take it, it'll be stealing. The school rules are against it, and no matter how sparingly and temperately a fellow uses it no allowance is made."

"Well, if we give it back to Greggs, it'll do 'im more harm than it will us; then, we can send Greggs the cost of it, so it won't be stealing, and as to school rules, why, we are breaking school rules now by being away," said Dick, reassuringly.

"'Twon't do, Dick; the breaking of one law doesn't justify the breaking of another. We'll let it behind."

"Very well," said Dick, but at the same moment, concealed by the dusk of the evening, he slipped the flask into his pocket.

"You'll 'ave to 'cave' about getting the eggs in," said Ande, as they trotted along home, back to Helston.

"That's what's worrying me," said Dick.

"I have it," said Ande, and the plan seemed so feasible that he resumed his old bantering tone. "Dick, old lad, congratulate your friend on being a man of infinite resources. I have a plan, my Ajax of egg-hunting renown and Lucifer reputation."

"Huh," growled Dick, "we're getting near town."

"A rope—the hamper rope," said Ande; "that beast, Creakle, will be on guard within, or Tenny. I go in empty-handed,—see—you stay out below the study window, in the dark angle; I let down the rope,—presto—up come the eggs. You come in empty-handed,—see?" and Ande gave Dick a nudge.

Dick brightened up perceptibly.

"But 'ow to get you in with that pungent, ducky aroma, without exciting the blatant curiosity of Creakle, or the sharp smellers of Sherwood—um—das ist die frage. Whew! What a beastly odour."

Dick looked worried and down-hearted.

"But cheer up, Dick, you can't help it, and we'll get you in some how, never fear. The plan is sure to work."

The plan did work like a charm, and soon they were in the comfortable study, Dick clothed in clean garments, and the steaming egg-nogg and eatables before them. The evening's adventure, the terror of Greggs, the chicken, and other viands, made the evening pass pleasantly by. During the close of the feast, Tenny rapped, but was not let in.

"Now Creakle will be next," said Ande, "and we can't keep a monitor out. Away with the things!"

The things were hurriedly placed away, the Virgils opened, and with lexicons in hand, they seemed busily and studiously engaged when steps were heard advancing quickly along the corridor. The door was swung open, it being unbarred, and in stalked Sherwood and Creakle. The latter had a cunning twinkle in his eye; the former with grave, severe countenance.

"Gentlemen," began Sherwood, in stern voice, but he went no further. Ande looked up with a mild, reproving eye.

"I believe no student is to be disturbed in the evening study hour, except upon probable cause of misdemeanour; I believe that is an unwritten law."

"Quite right, gentlemen, excuse me," and Master Sherwood backed out, followed by Creakle. Humiliation is a poor word to express the feelings of the under-master. Creakle could be heard expostulating with him in the corridor.

"I saw them both, on the run out of town, and saw them enter on their return, and there was a smell of ducks, sir, on Mr. Thomas's clothes."

"Nonsense," said Master Sherwood, "how should it not be manifest to me also?" Sherwood had not thought of the possibility of Thomas changing his clothes.

Creakle still protested.

"Absurd! Why, sir, do you know you are accusing the head of the fifth?" said Master Sherwood, exasperated. "Do you know your misplaced zeal has involved me in censure that was just, and a rebuke from fifth form boys that was, to say the least, humiliating? You, sir, should have known better. There must have been an upheaval of latent stupidity within you to thus bring disgrace upon both master and school. Sir, how will the public esteem our reputation when they are informed that master and monitor are banded together to disturb the study hours, and falsely accuse honourable students."

"I thought," began Creakle, humbly.

"You thought, sir; what right had you to think? You must know before recklessly accusing honourable students and bringing disgrace, not on me alone, but on the head."

Master Sherwood, in high dudgeon, went to his study, and Creakle, crestfallen, retired to the form room, where he had charge over the smaller form study hours.

"Now," said Dick, "that spying cad must be brought down to give him some sparks of honour."

"What's the plan?"

Dick, for the first time, refused to divulge to his chum his course, but divesting himself of his shoes cautiously slipped down to the cloakroom below.

That night, as Creakle was donning his gown, which he always left in the cloakroom, there arose a fearful uproar in the corridor above. Hastening upstairs with full speed, he tripped over an invisible something and fell with a crash to the floor. Instantly doors opened, lights appeared, and a confused sound of many voices, and in the midst of all, along stalked Master Sherwood.

"What is the meaning of this, Creakle?" he asked of that worthy, who was still on the floor, dazed with his fall.

"I fell, sir."

"You did, and pray why?" with biting sarcasm.

Just then he smelt the fumes of rye on the garb of the miserable Creakle, and his face grew dark with severity.

"You have been drinking, sir?"

"I have not," stammered the monitor.

"Don't give me the lie, sir; you are reeking with the fumes of an ale-house. Ugh! you putrescent miscreant! This is a case for the head. You will appear before him to-morrow. Such a disgrace! In what light will the public view this scandalous demoralisation? Outra geous, sir! This is the second offence to-night. I thought you were inebriated,—intoxicated—in short, what the vulgar tongue calls drunk, when you brought me a silly, drivelling tale of a misdemeanour of two honourable students, and now you make it evident by staggering around, sprawling, and destroying the peace and sobriety of the school!"

"I—I—I am not drunk."

"I call you all to witness the state of filthy inebriety of this fellow," said Sherwood, with cold dignity.

"What do you say, sir?" said the tutor to Dick.

"He smells horrid, sir," said that worthy.

"Ah! You are all witnesses," said Sherwood, and then, turning to the dejected Creakle, "in with you to your study, and relieve honourable men from the abhorrent, filthy odours that assail decent olfactory organs."

Mr. Sherwood retired in dignified silence, and Creakle slunk into his study.

"Dick, what is the moral?" said Ande, after they had reëntered their study.

"The revenge of diabolical Ajax?"

"No, the moral is this: the man who takes delight in spying on others and revelling in their disgrace, even though he be a monitor, shall be beaten with his own stick."

CHAPTER XIX

"Well, it is the current belief of the whole neighbourhood, and then, there is strong proof of his grandfather being a traitor. There is no doubt about that at all. Bob told me that it was through the patriotism of Richard's grandfather that the matter was called to the attention of Newcastle, and Trembath Manor was confiscated."

"How? What was the treason?"

"Well, he was a soldier in the war of England against France, in the colonies. He was in Braddock's defeat, and after that battle he turned for the French. He was with them for upwards of a year or so, and no one knows what harm he did during that time. They say he consorted with the French of Quebec, was a spy in their employ, and was afterwards raised to some rank as an officer."

"A traitor to his own land and his own people!" exclaimed Tenny.

"Yes, and that isn't all. They say he became as bloody a savage as the Indians. I suppose he received a good reward from the French. Some say he was an aide of Montcalm."

"And how was he found out?"

"He was shot in the van of a fight between Armstrong's troops and the French. They found his body and recognised it by letters from England. He had on a French officer's uniform and a commission in the French army in his pocket. They brought him home, and Sir Richard Lanyan brought the facts to the knowledge of the government, and the Trembath home was confiscated, and they were driven out. It served them right, I say."

"That it did," asserted Tenny.

"And here's one of the family, this Ande, that's lord ing it over us. I believe it was he that soaked my gown in that beastly rye and got me in such a scrape with the head."

Tenny smiled, for he had no love for Creakle, except as a tool.

"It was no laughing matter, I can tell you. The head nearly fired me," said Creakle, a little sullenly.

"Come, come, no offence. I have as much reason to dislike Trembath as you have. Didn't he sneak into being head of the fifth through meanness, getting up and reciting, when all the rest of the fellows had agreed to refuse to recite. He has been there ever since, but he never would have got there if he hadn't turned traitor to his form, like his father and grandfather to the government. Blood will tell."

"And, I say, we ought to let the fellows know, and pull him down a peg or two. Let him know his place among the sons of honourable Englishmen. He ought to be sent to Coventry, I say."

"Come over here and we'll talk it over with one or two of the fellows," said Tenny.

A little coterie of fellows of the fifth form were soon assembled around Tenny and Creakle, on the Bowling Green, and their nodding heads and colloquy portended mischief to the head of the fifth. Tenny had never forgotten the way in which he was shouldered out of the headship of the fifth form, and Creakle was burning with more hate since his late disgrace, which he blamed on Ande. Now, had it depended upon Creakle alone, nothing would have come of the disclosure of the stain upon Ande's name, but when Tenny took up the matter it was eagerly listened to. The latter portrayed in indignant tones the treachery of Ande's family to the government. Should they consort with him, after this knowledge? It was all well enough, as long as they did not know the family disgrace. But, now they knew, they ought to show their abhorrence of such conduct.

He ought to be expelled from the school, but they couldn't do that, but they could, at least, debar him from fellowship and keep him from the leadership in the form that he had always maintained. The son and grandson of a traitor shall not lead us in our sports. He was a traitor at heart, like his people before him, for had he not gained the headship of the form through an act of treason to his fellows, and his remarks of the injustice of the king also bore testimony. Such was the line of Tenny's sophistry, in which Creakle was a second.

One or two of the form demurred, with the remark that it was hard for a son to be villified on account of the errors of his fathers.

"I'll prove the contrary from the Bible," said Tenny. "Aren't the Jews to-day despised, and righteously, for their treason to their king, and doesn't the Bible say that the sins of the fathers shall be visited upon the children?"

The demurrers were overborne by Tenny's reasoning. Dick, being so close a friend of Ande, was not taken into the conference, but he was not so slow in taking in the cold demeanour of the students to Ande, and even to him self, in a milder degree. Henceforth there were no games in which Ande participated. If he sought entrance to a game, the game was instantly adjourned, and he found himself left more and more to himself. He, as well as Dick, was at a loss to know the reason of the altered manner of treatment. The revelation came to Dick.