Chapter XVIII: Almost Solved Again

During that winter two events happened, much alike in their general features, apparently quite disconnected, and yet not at all improbably resulting the one from the other. Either happening might well have solved the problem of Carne.

Jack, as we have seen, had developed a certain taste for information. He could lose himself completely in the doings of Hannibal or Alexander, and found the mighty realities of history--or what were accounted as such--more to his taste than the most thrilling imaginings of the story-tellers. Jim found them good also--as retailed to him by Jack--and would sit by the hour, with open mouth and eyes and ears, taking them all in at second-hand. But sit down to one of the big books, and worry them all out for himself, he would not.

And so it came that more than once when Jack was over head and ears in some delightfully bloody action of long ago, Jim would ramble off by himself in search of amusement more to his taste, until such time as the sponge, having filled itself full, should be ready to be squeezed.

That was how he came to be strolling along the beach one lowering windy afternoon, seeking desultorily in the lip of the tide for anything the waves might have thrown up.

It was always an interesting pursuit, for you never knew what you might light on. In former times Jack had been as keen a treasure-hunter as himself, but now he was digging it out elsewhere and otherwise.

They had never found anything of value, though many a thing of mighty interest was brought ashore by the waves. A girl's wooden doll, and a boy's wooden horse, for instance, had nothing very remarkable about them; but found within a dozen yards of each other on the beach after a storm, they set even boys not used to very deep thinking, thinking deeply. Coco-nuts and oranges, and a dead sheep, and an oar, and a ship's grating--that was about as much as they ever came across, except once, when it was the awful body of a dead black man, and then they ran home, with their heads twisting fearfully over their shoulders, as fast as their legs could carry them; and saw the hideous thick white lips of him for many a night afterwards.

But though you sought in vain for years, there was always the chance of coming upon a casket of jewels sooner or later; and if you never actually found it, the possibility of it was delightfully attractive.

Jim ambled on, kicking asunder lumps of seaweed which might conceal treasure, stooping now and again to pick up and examine some find more closely, and so came to the bend in the coast out of sight of Carne.

And there he stopped suddenly, like a pointing dog.

Away along the shore, and as close in as the long shoal of the sands would permit, was a large fishing-smack. Between her and the beach a boat was plying, and when it grounded a string of men was rapidly passing its contents up into the sand-hills.

Jim guessed what that might mean. His ephemeral reading in books of adventure told him these must be smugglers, and he had unconsciously gathered from unknown sources the fact that out beyond there lay the isle of Man, a place given up to freebooters and such-like gentry, though he had never happened to come across any so near home before. A matter therefore to be cautiously inquired into on the most approved Fenimore Cooper lines.

So he slipped in among the sand-hills and threaded a devious path parallel with the sea, now and again crawling like a snake up a hummock, and peering through the wire-grass to ascertain his position and make sure that the boat had not gone off.. That was his only anxiety, that she would get away before he had the chance of a nearer view.

He was delighted with his adventure. Here was treasure-trove better than all the tantalising possibilities of the beach. Here was something real and new to set against Jack's musty, but still exciting, stories of old Greeks and Romans. He felt rich.

The short day was drawing in. The gray of the dusk was in his favour. He wriggled up a soft bank on his stomach, and found himself with a fair view of what was going on. He sank flat among the wire-grass and watched, and was Robinson Crusoe, and Deerslayer; and Chingachgook, and many others, all in one.

A growl of rough voices down below, the "slaithe" of spades in the soft sand, and he saw little barrels and neat little corded packages being rapidly buried, each in a little hole by itself, and evidently according to some recognised plan.

The boat had probably made another trip to the smack, for barrels and packages came pouring in and were deftly put out of sight. The light was so dim that he could not recognise any of the busy workers, and their occasional growls gave him no clue.

He was wondering vaguely who they might be, when a heavy hand descended on the back of his neck and lifted him up like a kicking rabbit.

"Dom yo' I What d' yo' want a-spyin' here for?"

His captor dragged him down into the centre of operations, and Jim found himself inside a wall of scowling, hairy faces. "Now then, who are yo', and what'n yo' want here?"

The long rough fingers reached well round his throat, and he was almost black in the face, and sparks and things were beginning to dance before his eyes. He clutched at the big hand and tried to pull it away.

"I'm Jim Carron," he gasped.

"Yo' wunnot be Jim Carron long, then. Dig a hole there big enow to take him," he ordered--and Jim saw himself lying in it, alongside the little barrels and packages.

"I meant no harm. I only wanted to see," he urged sturdily.

"Yo' seen too much. I' th' sand yo'll see nowt an' yo'll talk none."

"I won't in any case. I promise you."

"We'se see to that, my lad. Yo'll be safest i' th' sand, and so 'ill we." And Jim, glancing scare-eyed up at the wall of rough face; would have been mightily glad to be back in the warm kitchen at Carne with Jack and his old Greeks and Romans.

He looked very small and helpless among them. Some of them had little lads at home, no doubt; but there was much at stake, and it would never do to leave him free to talk. On the other hand, running goods free of duty was one thing, and killing a boy was another, and there arose a growling controversy among them as to what they should do with him.

It was ended suddenly by one wresting him masterfully from his original captor, and dragging him by the scruff of the neck towards the boat. It was emptied of its last load and ready to return for another. His new keeper tossed him in, tumbled in after him with three others, and pulled out to the smack.