Chapter XVII: Jabez Fruin

And to-night, this Christmas Eve, they made up their minds to let Mr. Fruin see that "Bitters" was still alive in their memory though dead in fact. This was Master George Trevena's idea of going carolling--to sally forth as no minstrels of peace, as no heralds of the tidings of great joy, but rather as messengers of war. One and all of the young gentlemen were soon permeated with their companion's spirit; no one is so clannish as the average boy--none so ready to combine to avenge a comrade's injury. And this thing was long notorious. Jabez Fruin was looked upon as an enemy by all of them; and each one was prepared to regard himself, and to act as though he regarded himself, as Mr. Fruin's victim. Whether this way of looking upon things was worthy of a Christian--whether this was the sort of business in which it was well to engage themselves upon the eve of Christmas-tide, on the anniversary of that eve when "shepherds watched their flocks by night"--they never paused for an instant to inquire; it was sufficient for them that it promised rare fun, and a favourable opportunity to make Mr. Fruin's Christmas as disagreeable as was possible.

"Before I've done with him I'll make the brute regret that there ever was a Bitters. I'll make him regret to the last day of his life that he ever laid his hands on him." It was George Trevena spoke, and there was no doubt that to the best of his ability he meant exactly what he said.

There was a general bustle in the kitchen. The boys were moving about, buttoning up their overcoats and making ready for a start.

"You've all got sticks?" asked George. They had--good stout ones into the bargain. Duke Tregowan was an exception; he had a riding-whip instead, with a loaded handle--one of those supple whalebones which, when handled properly, cut like a knife.

"How many of us are there?" George counted heads. There were eight of them, if Chandos Effingham might be reckoned one, and if he chose they knew he might be reckoned an efficient one indeed, for his strength and courage were as notorious as his manners and his style of speech. "Now understand there's to be no shirking; no one is to turn tail until the word is given; and when it is, we'll scatter and meet again at Godrevy."

So much was understood, and a start was made. The whole eight of them trooped out of the kitchen in a crowd. At the door Duke spoke to Reath and bade him put up Tony for the night and send him on to Tregowan in the morning; he himself, he said, intended to walk home.

It was then about half-past seven in the evening--between that and a quarter to eight. It was a dark night, the clouds were heavy, and there was a suspicion in the air of mist.

"There's a sea-fog coming up the valley," said Eva as they went along; "we shall have it in our faces all the way."

"So much the better," said Anderson; "it will hide us so that Fruin will not be able to see who it is that's worrying him."

But Eva thought differently; he was of opinion that it was a thing distinctly not to be desired--a fog to hide them. Those mists which rise out of the sea at Gwithian, and steal along the valley, and spread across the land, are bad enough in the daytime. We have seen the sun high in the heavens, and yet so dense a mist that you could with difficulty see your hand before your face; all landmarks were gone, all notions as to the whereabouts of north and south, and east and west. Knowing the country every inch of it, we have deemed it prudent to repose upon a bank until the mist has cleared away. True, the visitation is, as a rule, of short duration; it comes as quickly as it goes; but if its effect in the full glare of noon is to render objects invisible at a distance of two feet; at night, and especially on a dark night, it can overshadow the country as completely as ever the Egyptian darkness did. So Eva did not pleasurably anticipate a mist; he knew that travelling by Zunny Waters, where the banks at times run level with the stream, and where are endless boards to cross, which serve as bridges, is not by any means too easy on an evening of ordinary darkness; while in the desert at Godrevy, if it were not for the eternal tumbling of the sea, it would be the easiest thing in the world to lose yourself at night-time. To add to the darkness of an unusually dark night the density of a mist would be to render the task one of real difficulty and real danger too.

Away went the boys, and soon broke into a run, for their excitement was too great to enable them to confine themselves to walking.

"Let's cut behind Wheal Kitty and up over the croft behind Rosehill," suggested Anderson. "If we go across Farmer Treen's and down by the mill, it will be ever such a corner to the good."

As he suggested so they did; in a minute they had turned off on to the old coach-road which runs behind Wheal* Kitty. The mine was not at work to-night; everything was still; only a fire was burning in the watchman's room. The door was open, and the watchman was standing in the entrance with a pipe in his mouth; by the light of the fire they could see that his hands were in his pockets, and that his overcoat was only buttoned at the top. They turned up the lane which, at the bottom of the old coach-road, branches off towards Menadarvar; they had run up the hill about twenty yards when Duke Tregowan, who was in front, vaulted over the hedge into Farmer Treen's field; all the rest came after him, and in a minute were on the croft which runs up behind Rosehill. Here they were lifted high above the surrounding country; it was very cold; they scrambled anyhow through the gorse and heather; more than once one of them caught his foot and came toppling to the ground; it was risky running.

* It is hardly necessary to say that the prefix, Wheal, as used in Cornwall, means a mine.

"You're sure you're going right," said Eva, who was next behind Tregowan. "There's that quarry somewhere here, and the hedge runs right across. It won't do to pitch head-foremost down the one or to bolt into the other."

"We must chance it," said Tregowan. "It is impossible to see where we are going; we had better slow off a bit. Can any one hear the water at the mill?"

They stopped and listened. There was not a sound; all was still, and dark, and cold. Yes; young Mason thought he heard the rushing of the stream; so did Anderson, but he was not sure. None of them were sure.

"Aren't those the lights at Roseworthy," asked George, pointing to faintly glimmering lights seen in the valley to the left of them, "or are they at the cooper's?"

They were not certain; they might be either. They determined to push down to the right, walking with circumspection, so that they might have timely notice of the neighbourhood of the deserted quarry; but it never came across their path. They hit upon the hedge and clambered over it, and then were quickly in the lane beyond. After that, for the present, the way was easy. They broke into a trot again and tore down to the mill.

"Take care," said Anderson as they approached the mill; "it won't do to have the miller out on us. He might ask ugly questions about what we're going to do."

Acting on his hint, they stole through the mill-yard as though they were midnight robbers, picking every step so as not to make a sound. There were lights in the miller's house and in the cottage on the left, but no one looked to see who it was passing at that hour of the night. The dog broke into a storm of barking, but no one seemed to heed the noise he made.

No sooner had they left the mill behind than they found themselves in the outskirts of the mist. As yet it was not particularly dense, yet quite dense enough to be unpleasant. Rapid locomotion was out of the question; the footpath just there was not more than a dozen inches wide. On one side was a sharp descent of several feet into a low-lying field, and on the other was the stream. It was choose your steps and follow your leader with a vengeance. A false step would, without the slightest doubt, result unpleasantly.

Ere long they were in Mr. Jabez Fruin's neighbourhood, then caution became doubly necessary. They called a halt, and in whispers held a hurried consultation. George Trevena and Ralph Eva and little Eddie Mason produced bundles of fireworks, squibs, and crackers. George's scheme was ingenious, if daring. He had made up his mind on three points--first, that Jabez should have a ducking, as George had had not long ago; second, that Mrs. Fruin and Mr. Fruin, junior, should have cause to regret that they ever followed in the head of the family's footsteps; and, third, that he would leave some mark on Mr. Fruin's property in memory of his visit; in other words, that he would damage Mr. Fruin's property, as he believed that Mr. Fruin had damaged his.

The _modus operandi_ by which these three determinations were to be carried into effect was simple to a degree; in its simplicity lay its charm. It appeared that, together with the fireworks, Messrs. Ralph and George had brought with them, wrapped round their bodies, several dozen yards of good strong cord. Even Chandos Effingham had been pressed into this service, and had quite a quantity of rope to keep him warm. George proposed that they should first attract Mr. Fruin's notice--exploding a few squibs and crackers would effectually do that--tempt him to come outside his house, and then two or three were to secure the door to prevent the approach of reinforcements, while the rest were to bind Mr. Fruin with the rope they had. George, Duke, Ralph, and Effingham, who was stubborn as a bull, and therefore invaluable in a hard standup fight, were told off to manage Mr. Fruin, while the others were to see that young Fruin and his mother were detained inside the house.

"And when we've once got hold of him," said George, in a whisper, which was loud enough for all of them to hear, "we'll teach him a lesson which will last his life. Hang on to him like death. If we only cling tight enough, he'll be as good as helpless."

"We will do our best," said Duke, and his were the cold clear tones they knew so well. "Either we will go into the stream or Fruin shall."

"Yah!" growled Effingham, defiant of grammar; "it'll be us, not him. What an idiot I was to come!"

They moved forward. The stream ran noisily beside them; the path, caked with frozen snow, was slippery as ice; the branches of the overhanging trees, which grew right to the water's edge, swept into their faces. The mist grew denser every moment; they had to feel their way; it was impossible to see a yard in front of them. Every step or two one or other of the party all but stumbled either into the river on one side or into the field upon the other. Once nothing but the presence of mind of Lionel Pollyon saved little Eddie Mason. He had actually stumbled and was falling into the water, when Lionel, at his own peril, caught him by the collar and dragged him to his feet again. For him to have fallen into that dark and icy and swiftly flowing stream at such a time would probably have brought their expedition to a tragic end upon the spot.

All at once they turned the bend, and there, just in front of them, were the stream-works, and beyond was the abode of Jabez Fruin. It was impossible to see, for the mist in great clouds was rolling up from Gwithian; but they knew it was, because just there the path came to an end, and you had to step upon a board to cross to Fruin's. Duke, who was in front, and who since babyhood had known that country, stopped short upon a sudden. Even with his intimate acquaintance of the neighbourhood, he had all but stepped into the river, for the path was at an end; so they knew that it was Fruin's. The word was passed, and they prepared for operations.

"We're there," said Duke in the tone which he had used before. "Look out, you fellows; there's the island."

But it was to be a case, although they knew it not, of diamond cut diamond; for, while they schemed, their intended victim, whom they had hoped to have caught napping, had been by no means fast asleep. Duke stepped on the board, and very gingerly crept along it until he reached the island. The rest followed his example, all showing particular care as to the way in which they put one foot before the other. The whole party were at last upon the other side. It was more bewildering than they had bargained for. The mist was now so thick that you could cut it with a knife; it was like an impenetrable wall on either side of them. As if to prove the danger and difficulty of locomotion, Duke, moving a few steps forward, stumbling over an unseen heap of something, fell, by no means lightly, to the ground. Mason, who was just behind, taken unawares, gave a sudden cry, fearing that he had fallen into the river; but Duke, getting on his feet again, proved that his fears were premature. None the less after that there was a sort of nervous agitation in the party which scarcely tended to keep up their spirits.

It was this, perhaps, which caused their operations to be less effective than they had intended.

"Have you got the squibs ready?" asked George. It was doubtless the mist which made it seem as though he spoke in tones of funereal hoarseness.

"Yes," said Eva, "squibs and crackers too. But what's the use? We can't let them off from here. Where's old Fruin's house? For all we know it will be simple waste. He may be able to neither see nor hear them."

"Old Fruin's house is right in front of us, just before the island there." It was Anderson who spoke; it is to be presumed he indicated the location by a movement of his arm, but no one could see him if he did.

"I'm not so sure of that. We've moved about since we got on this wretched island; we just are fogged completely. I wouldn't mind betting two to one that no one is able to point out the way we came."

It was a comfortable state of things. No one was at all inclined to take the bet. They were as utterly at a loss as if they had never been in the neighbourhood in all their lives before. If the fog would only clear away! But to their vivid imaginations it increased in density every moment. To improve matters, Eddie Mason, who was a little fellow, and whose courage was fast sinking down into his boots, suggested a further doubt.

"How about the dogs?" he said. "Suppose the beggar lets them loose? This mist won't prevent their seeing. The brutes will tear us to pieces if they like."

There was silence. No one had a remark to make; the idea was an unpleasant one. Effingham groaned aloud. He sincerely wished that he had never come. It is not impossible that one or two of the others echoed his wish in their secret hearts. At last, driven to desperation, George Trevena spoke again.

"It's no use our standing like dummies here," he declared with unusual ferocity; "let's let off some squibs. At any rate they will give us some notion where we are, and then, if we choose, we can make a dash for it."

Eva acquiesced. "I'm quite agreeable; anything for a change. It's not particularly warm work sticking here, and the sooner we do something, after coming all this way to do it, the better it will be. Now, then, you fellows, we'll all let off the squibs together."

They did, or tried to do, as he suggested. They were never very clear what it was they did, or what exactly were the events which followed. It was ever a sort of nightmare to them afterwards. Every one produced matches, and there was a unanimous attempt to light them on their boots or whatever was most handy. There was nothing heard but scratching in the darkness. Some of the matches refused to be ignited, others went out as soon as they were lit; one or two behaved in splendid fashion, but, as a rule, they certainly failed to light their squibs together. Those who had better fortune put the touch-paper to the flame, and there was another interval of silence. There was the usual banging of the slender tubes against boots and sticks with a view of hastening the process of ignition. All at once a squib began to throw out a rain of fiery sparks, another followed, three were going off at once, the others lagged behind. Those which were fired were thrown up in the air; there was a pretty loud report, which, however, was deadened by the mist.

"Why don't you let off yours?" inquired Trevena of Effingham, who was at his side.

"Because I can't. The beastly thing won't light; it's a regular duffer. I never saw such a muff of a squib. And as for these matches, they're as damp as a bucket full of water. I don't believe they've got any tips to them at all."

Bang! bang! bang! there were all at once three distinct explosions, making considerably more noise than their squibs had done. Penharden declared afterwards that he distinctly heard a bullet whistle past his ears, but this was set down as poetic imagery, an impression received under circumstances of intense interest. Some one had fired three guns in reply to their three squibs, there could be no doubt of that, an act which was followed up by stronger measures still.

"Give it 'em! Give it the villains! Flay the skin from off their backs! Up, Tiger, and at 'em! Pull 'em to pieces, Tearem! Up, you brutes, and at"----

These were the cries which came to them through the mist. They were evidently not the exclamations of one, but of half a dozen. They could distinguish Fruin's voice, and with it four or five besides. Bang! bang! more guns were fired; dogs barked with might and main; men shouted; the din was astonishing. It seemed to them that these unseen assailants advanced on them from every side. One started up from Marmaduke's very side; there could be no doubt that he had lain in ambush there. He put his hand on Duke's collar, but the lad, slippery as an eel, put his foot behind the fellow's heel and tripped him to the ground. Stones were thrown; one struck Eddie Mason, and he gave a cry of pain. One and all were seized with panic. The rout was utter and complete; their ingenious plan collapsed like a house of cards. It was plain they were caught in a trap of their own setting; they only thought of safety in retreat.

"Keep close to me," said Duke to Mason; "we'll make a bolt for it. I'll bring you out of it all right."

The boy was crying bitterly; pain and terror made it evident that, after all, he was the merest child. Duke caught his hand and hurried him away. By good fortune they hit upon a plank, crossed it, and were safe upon the bank. That their good fortune was not general was certain. Splash! splash! two persons had gone into the river, but who they were and how they got there, whether by accident or intentionally, it was impossible to say, nor did they stop to inquire. Splash! a third one went; but it was _sauve qui peut_. They were concerned simply to place themselves out of all possible danger of pursuit.

"We're not on Fruin's bank, I think," said Duke, after hesitating a moment as to their whereabouts, "but on the Godrevy side. If we keep straight ahead, we'll soon get out of reach."

They tore off at full speed. It was the most uncomfortable of travelling; going at such a pace meant coming headlong to the ground every dozen yards or so. Mason cried more and more; Duke feared that he would wind up with hysteria. He modulated their pace till they came down to walking.

"Come, cheer up, old man! You're not killed, are you? What's wrong with you? It'll be all right in a minute or two; we've given them the slip already."

Mason tried to cheer up; he did his best to choke away his sobs, and succeeded very fairly; in a few minutes he had almost ceased to cry. But that Duke was whistling before he was clear of the wood was shown directly afterwards. While they walked along they heard some one tearing at a furious pace just behind; that it was one of their comrades in full retreat they had not the slightest doubt, and that he was being actively pursued was proved by the fact that they could plainly hear at least two persons panting on his heels, threatening all sorts of tremendous things if they could once get hold of him.

"Let's run!" gasped Eddie, seized with returning panic and beginning again to cry.

"Right you are," said Duke; "but don't be afraid; they'll never catch us. Don't you hear how they are panting? They'll soon have had enough of it."

Off they tore once more; but Duke was wrong again in his prognostications. Although it was very possible that in one sense the pursuers had had enough of it, still they stuck manfully to the chase. They had run at least a mile, over the worst country it was possible to run, and Duke was beginning to fear that there would soon be an end to Mason before they succeeded in finally shaking them off. Then the lad who had been originally pursued came up to Duke and Eddie--it was Lionel Pollyon.

"We're on the Gwithian sands," said Duke, when Lionel had fallen in beside them, and they had gone back to walking, "but whereabouts on them is more than I can tell. Listen! Can you hear the sea?"

Not a sound. They knew they were on the sands, because at every step they sank in above their ankles and floundered heavily; but what with there being not a breath of wind and the extraordinary density of the mist, which seemed to deaden whatever sound there might be, it was as though there was no sea to break upon the shore.

"What a delightful evening we are having!" said Pollyon. "What a thoroughly enjoyable Christmas Eve! We must give Trevena a vote of thanks. Perhaps you will say what we had better do or which way we had better go; for whether the sea is to the front or to the back, or to the right or to the left of us, I have not the faintest notion."

"We'll go forward. I can't see where else it can be if it isn't to the front of us. When we've once got to it I daresay we can manage. It's curious how still it is."

They pressed forward. They advanced perhaps another hundred yards, still they heard no sound. Suddenly Duke stopped short. He caught Pollyon by the arm. As he stood listening, Lionel asked, "Where's Mason?"

"Mason! why, here!"

But he was not. A moment ago he was at his side, but now he was not there. "Mason!" he called; then "MASON!" still louder; but there was no answer of any kind. "Why, whatever can have become of him?"

As they stood there, wholly at a loss to explain this sudden disappearance of the lad, they felt the solid earth tremble all at once beneath them.

"What is the matter?" asked Duke, as Lionel grasped hold of him. But ere he could reply the earth gave way beneath their feet, and they sank, as it seemed to them, into the very bowels of the earth.