Carmichael led the way down the sheep-path; he insisted on it. “An officer’s place is at the head of his men,” he chanted. The sentiment is laudable, but he led altogether too fast. Seventeen and carrying nothing but his sword, he gamboled down the craggy path with the agility10 of a chamois. His troopers, mainly elderly heroes, full of beer (they had been dragged blaspheming out of taverns12 just as they were settling down to a comfortable evening) and burdened with accoutrements, followed with all the caution due to their years and condition. The result was that Carmichael arrived at the base alone.
He crouched13 behind the corner of the pilchard shed and listened. The place was alive. It was inky dark; he could see nothing, but he could hear well enough.
“He-ave, a’. Up she goes! Stan’ still, my beauty! Fast on that side, Jan? Lead on, you!”
“Bessie Kate, Bessie Kate, bring a hank o’ rope; this pack’s slippin’.”
“Next horse. Pass the word for more horses . . . ahoy there . . . horses.”
Grunts15 of men struggling with heavy objects, subdued16 exhortations17, complaints, oaths, laughter, women’s chatter18, hoof19 beats, the shrill20 ki-yi of a trampled21 dog. The darkness ahead was boiling with invisible people, smugglers all and engaged on their unlawful occupations.
Carmichael’s hackles stood on end. He gripped his sword.
“Is that all?” a voice called, louder, more authoritative23 than the rest. “Get them horses away then.”
The voice was referring to the boat-load, but the cornet thought the whole run was through. In a minute the last horse would be off and he would lose the capture. Without looking to see how many of his men had collected behind him he shouted “Huzza!” and plunged24 into the thick of it. Death! Glory!
He plunged head-first into Uncle Billy Clemo’s daughter-in-law, butting25 her over backwards26. She clutched out to save herself, clutched him round the neck and took him with her. She lay on the ground, still grasping the cornet to her, and screamed her loudest. Mr. Carmichael struggled frantically27; here was a pretty situation for a great military genius at the onset28 of his first battle! The woman had the hug of a she-bear, but his fury gave him the strength of ten. He broke her grip and plunged on, yelling to his men to fire. The only two who were present obeyed, but as he had neglected to tell them what to fire at they very prudently29 fired into the air.
The cornet plunged on, plunged into somebody, shouted to the somebody to stop or be hewn limb from limb. The somebody fled pursued by Carmichael, turned at bay opposite a lighted window and he saw it was a woman. Another woman! Death and damnation! Were there nothing but damnation women in this damnation maze30?
He spun31 about and galloped32 back, crashed into something solid—a man at last!—launched out at him. His sword met steel, a sturdy wrist-snapping counter, and flipped33 out of his hand.
“S’render!” boomed the voice of his own servant. “Stand or I’ll carve your heart out, you . . . Oh, begging your pardon, sir, I’m sure.”
Carmichael cursed him, picked up his sword again and rushed on. By the sound of their feet and breathing he knew there were people, scores of them, scurrying34 hither and thither35 about him in the blank darkness, but though he challenged and clutched and smote36 with the flat of his sword he met with nothing—nothing but thin air. It was like playing blindman’s buff with ghosts. He heard two or three ragged11 volleys in the direction of the sea and galloped towards it, galloped into a cul-de-sac between two cottages, nearly splitting his head against a wall. He was three minutes fumbling37 his way out of that, blubbering with rage, but this time he came out on the sea-front.
Gun-flashes on the slip-head showed him where his men were (firing at a boat or something), and he ran towards them cheering, tripped across a spar and fell headlong over the cliff. It was only a miniature cliff, a bank of earth merely, not fifteen feet high, with mixed sand and bowlders beneath.
The cornet landed wallop on the sand and lay there for some minutes thinking he was dead and wondering what style of monument (if any) his parents would erect38 to his memory:—
“Hic jacet William Shine Carmichael, cornet of His Majesty’s Dragoons, killed while gallantly39 leading an attack on smugglers. Militavi non sine gloria. Aged8 17.”
Aged only seventeen; how sad! He shed a tear to think how young he was when he died and then slowly came to the conclusion that perhaps he wasn’t quite dead—only stunned40—only half-stunned—hardly stunned at all.
A stray shot went wailing41 eerily42 out to sea. His men were in action; he must go to them. He tried to get up, but found his left leg was jammed between two bowlders, and, tug43 as he might, he could not dislodge it. He shouted for help. Nobody took any notice. Again and again he shouted. No response. He laid his curly head down on the wet sand and with his tears wetted it still further. When at length (a couple of hours later) he was liberated44 it was by two of the smuggler22 ladies. They were most sympathetic, bandaged his sprained45 ankle, gave him a hot drink to revive his circulation and vowed46 it was a shame to send pretty boys of his age out so late.
Poor Mr. Carmichael!
Eli and Bohenna were the first to load, and consequently led the pack-train which was strung out for a quarter of a mile up the valley waiting for Ortho. When they heard the shots go off in the Cove they remembered King Nick’s standing47 orders and scattered48 helter-skelter up the western slope. There were only three side-tracks and thirty-two horses to be got up. This caused jamming and delay.
The sergeant49 at the track-head heard the volleys as well, and, not having the least regard for Mr. Carmichael’s commandments, pushed on to see the fun. Fortunately for the leaders the chaotic50 state of the track prevented him from pushing fast. As it was he very nearly blundered into the tail end of the train. A mule51 had jibbed and stuck in the bushes, refusing to move either way. Eli and two young Hernes tugged52, pushed and whacked53 at it. Suddenly, close beside, they heard the wild slither of iron on stone, a splash and the voice of a man calling on Heaven to condemn54 various portions of his anatomy55. It was the sergeant; his horse had slipped up, depositing him in a puddle56. He remounted and floundered on with his squad57, little knowing that in the bushes that actually brushed his knee was standing a loaded mule with three tense boys clinging to its ears, nose and tail to keep it quiet. It was a close call.
Eli took charge of the pack train. He was terribly anxious about Ortho, but hanging about and letting the train be taken would only make bad worse, and Ortho had an uncanny knack58 of slipping out of trouble. He felt sure that if anybody was arrested it would not be his brother.
King Nick had thought of everything. In case of a raid by mounted men who could pursue it would be folly59 to go on to St. Just. They were to hide their goods at some preordained spot, hasten home and lie doggo.
The preordained spot was the “Fou-gou,” an ancient British dwelling60 hidden in a tangle61 of bracken a mile to the northwest, a subterranean62 passage roofed with massive slabs63 of granite64, lined with moss65 and dripping with damp, the haunt of badgers66, foxes and bats. By midnight Eli had his cargo67 stowed away in that dark receptacle thoughtfully provided by the rude architects of the Stone Age, and by one o’clock he was at home in bed prepared to prove he had never left it. But he did not sleep, tired as he was. Two horses had not materialized, and where was Ortho? If he had escaped he should have been home by now . . . long ago. The gale68 made a terrific noise, moaning and buffeting69 round the house; it must be awful at sea.
Where was Ortho?
Eli might just as well have taken his goods through to St. Just for all the Dragoons cared. Had the French landed that night they would have made no protest. They would have drunk their very good healths.
When the sergeant and his detachment, the snow at their backs, finally stumbled into Monks Cove it was very far from a scene of battle and carnage that met their gaze. “Homely” would better describe it. The cottages were lit up and in them lounged the troopers, attended by the genial70 fisher-folk in artistic71 déshabillé, in the clothes in which they, at that moment, had arisen from bed (so they declared). The warriors72 toasted their spurs at the hearths73 and drank to everybody’s everlasting74 prosperity.
None to speak of. Four fifths of the train was up the valley when they broke in, and got away easily. That little whelp Carmichael had queered the show, charging and yapping. Where was he now? Oh, lying bleating76 under the cliff somewhere. Pshaw! Let him lie a bit and learn wisdom, plaguy little louse! Have a drink, God bless us.
They caught nothing then?
Why, yes, certainly they had. Four prisoners and two horses. Two of the prisoners had since escaped, but no matter, the horses hadn’t, and they carried the right old stuff—gin and brandy. That was what they were drinking now. Mixed, it was a lotion77 fit to purge78 the gullet of the Great Mogul. Have a drink, Lord love you!
The sergeant was agreeable.
It was not before dawn that these stalwarts would consent to be mustered. They clattered79 back to Penzance in high fettle, joking and singing. Some of the younger heads (recruits only) were beginning to ache, but the general verdict was that it had been a very pleasant outing.
Mr. Carmichael rode at their head. His fettle was not high. His ankle was most painful and so were his thoughts. Fancy being rescued by a pair of damnation girls! Moreover, two or three horses were going lame80; what would Jope say to him when he returned—and Hambro? Brrh! Soldiering wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.
Mr. Curral rode at the tail of the column. He too was a dejected man. That silly little fool of a Carmichael had bungled81 the haul of the year, but he didn’t expect the Collector would believe it; he was sure to get the blame. He and his poacher had captured two horses to have them taken from them by the troopers, the tubs broached82 and the horses let go. Dragoons!—they had known what discipline was in the Horse Guards! It was too late to go to Bosula or the gypsy camp now; all tracks would have been covered up, no evidence. The prisoners had by this time dwindled83 to a solitary84 youth whom Curral suspected of being a half-wit and who would most assuredly be acquitted85 by a Cornish jury. He sighed and sucked the head of his whip. It was a hard life.
Phineas Eva, parish clerk of St. Gwithian, came to call on Teresa one afternoon shortly after the catastrophe86. He was dressed in his best, which was not very good, but signified that it was a visit of importance.
He twittered some platitudes87 about the weather, local and foreign affairs—the American colonists88 were on the point of armed rebellion, he was creditably informed—tut, tut! But meeting with no encouragement from his hostess he dwindled into silence and sat perched on the edge of the settle, blinking his pale eyes and twitching90 his hat in his rheumatic claws. Teresa seemed unaware91 of his presence. She crouched motionless in her chair, chin propped92 on knuckles93, a somber94, brooding figure.
Phineas noted95 that her cheeks and eyelids96 were swollen97, her raven98 hair hanging in untidy coils, and feared she had been roistering again. If so she would be in an evil mood. She was a big, strong woman, he a small, weak man. He trembled for his skin. Still he must out with it somehow, come what might. There was his wife to face at the other end, and he was no less terrified of his wife. He must out with it. Of the two it is better to propitiate99 the devil you live with than the devil you don’t. He hummed and hawed, squirmed on his perch89, and then with a gulp100 and a splutter came out with it.
His daughter Tamsin was in trouble, and Ortho was the cause. He had to repeat himself twice before Teresa would take any notice, and then all she did was to nod her head.
Phineas took courage; she had neither sworn nor pounced101 at him. He spoke102 his piece. Of course Ortho would do the right thing by Tamsin; she was a good girl, a very good girl, docile103 and domestic, would make him an excellent wife. Ortho was under a cloud at present, but that would blow over—King Nick had powerful influence and stood by his own. Parson Coverdale of St. Just was always friendly to the Free Traders; he would marry them without question. He understood Ortho was in hiding among the St. Just tinners; it would be most convenient. He . . . Teresa shook her head slowly.
Not at St. Just? Then he had been blown over to Scilly after all. Oh, well, as soon as he could get back Parson Coverdale would . . . Again Teresa shook her head.
Not at Scilly! Then where was he? Up country?
Teresa rose out of her chair and looked Phineas full in the face, stood over him, hair hanging loose, puffy, obese104 yet withal majestic105, tragic106 beyond words. Something in her swollen eyes made him quail107, but not for his own skin, not for himself.
“A Fowey Newfoundlander put into Newlyn Pools morning,” she said, and her voice had a husky burr. “Ten leagues sou’west of the Bishop108 they found the Gamecock of Monks Cove—bottom up.”
“Yes,” said Teresa. “Drowned. Go home and tell that to your daughter. An’ tell her she’ve got next to her heart the only li’l’ livin’ spark of my lovely boy that’s left in this world. She’m luckier nor I.”
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1
monks
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| n.修道士，僧侣( monk的名词复数 ) | |
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cove
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| n.小海湾，小峡谷 | |
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bog
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| n.沼泽；室...陷入泥淖 | |
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coup
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| n.政变；突然而成功的行动 | |
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morale
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| n.道德准则，士气，斗志 | |
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jolt
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| v.（使）摇动，（使）震动，（使）颠簸 | |
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mustered
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| v.集合，召集，集结（尤指部队）( muster的过去式和过去分词 )；（自他人处）搜集某事物；聚集；激发 | |
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aged
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| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
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picket
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| n.纠察队；警戒哨；v.设置纠察线；布置警卫 | |
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agility
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| n.敏捷，活泼 | |
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ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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taverns
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| n.小旅馆，客栈，酒馆( tavern的名词复数 ) | |
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crouched
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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mare
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| n.母马，母驴 | |
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grunts
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| （猪等）作呼噜声( grunt的第三人称单数 )； （指人）发出类似的哼声； 咕哝着说； 石鲈 | |
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subdued
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| adj. 屈服的，柔和的，减弱的 动词subdue的过去式和过去分词 | |
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exhortations
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| n.敦促( exhortation的名词复数 )；极力推荐；（正式的）演讲；（宗教仪式中的）劝诫 | |
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chatter
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| vi.／n.喋喋不休；短促尖叫；(牙齿)打战 | |
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hoof
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| n.(马，牛等的)蹄 | |
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shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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trampled
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| 踩( trample的过去式和过去分词 )； 践踏； 无视； 侵犯 | |
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smuggler
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| n.走私者 | |
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authoritative
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| adj.有权威的，可相信的；命令式的；官方的 | |
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plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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butting
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| 用头撞人（犯规动作） | |
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backwards
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| adv.往回地，向原处，倒，相反，前后倒置地 | |
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frantically
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| ad.发狂地, 发疯地 | |
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onset
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| n.进攻，袭击，开始，突然开始 | |
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prudently
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| adv. 谨慎地，慎重地 | |
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maze
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| n.迷宫，八阵图，混乱，迷惑 | |
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spun
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| v.纺，杜撰，急转身 | |
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galloped
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| （使马）飞奔，奔驰( gallop的过去式和过去分词 )； 快速做[说]某事 | |
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flipped
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| 轻弹( flip的过去式和过去分词 )； 按（开关）； 快速翻转； 急挥 | |
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scurrying
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| v.急匆匆地走( scurry的现在分词 ) | |
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thither
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| adv.向那里；adj.在那边的，对岸的 | |
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smote
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| v.猛打，重击，打击( smite的过去式 ) | |
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fumbling
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| n. 摸索,漏接 v. 摸索,摸弄,笨拙的处理 | |
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erect
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| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
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gallantly
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| adv. 漂亮地，勇敢地，献殷勤地 | |
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stunned
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| adj. 震惊的，惊讶的 动词stun的过去式和过去分词 | |
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wailing
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| v.哭叫，哀号( wail的现在分词 )；沱 | |
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eerily
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| adv.引起神秘感或害怕地 | |
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tug
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| v.用力拖(或拉)；苦干；n.拖；苦干；拖船 | |
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liberated
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| a.无拘束的，放纵的 | |
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sprained
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| v.&n. 扭伤 | |
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vowed
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| 起誓，发誓（vow的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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sergeant
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| n.警官，中士 | |
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chaotic
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| adj.混沌的，一片混乱的，一团糟的 | |
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mule
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| n.骡子，杂种，执拗的人 | |
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tugged
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| v.用力拉，使劲拉，猛扯( tug的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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whacked
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| a.精疲力尽的 | |
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condemn
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| vt.谴责，指责；宣判(罪犯)，判刑 | |
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anatomy
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| n.解剖学，解剖；功能，结构，组织 | |
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puddle
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| n.(雨)水坑，泥潭 | |
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squad
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| n.班，小队，小团体；vt.把…编成班或小组 | |
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knack
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| n.诀窍，做事情的灵巧的，便利的方法 | |
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folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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dwelling
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| n.住宅，住所，寓所 | |
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tangle
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| n.纠缠；缠结；混乱；v.(使)缠绕；变乱 | |
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subterranean
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| adj.地下的，地表下的 | |
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slabs
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| n.厚板，平板，厚片( slab的名词复数 )；厚胶片 | |
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granite
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| adj.花岗岩，花岗石 | |
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moss
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| n.苔，藓，地衣 | |
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badgers
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| n.獾( badger的名词复数 )；獾皮；（大写）獾州人（美国威斯康星州人的别称）；毛鼻袋熊 | |
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cargo
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| n.(一只船或一架飞机运载的)货物 | |
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gale
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| n.大风，强风，一阵闹声（尤指笑声等） | |
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buffeting
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| 振动 | |
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genial
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| adj.亲切的，和蔼的，愉快的，脾气好的 | |
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artistic
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| adj.艺术(家)的，美术(家)的；善于艺术创作的 | |
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warriors
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| 武士，勇士，战士( warrior的名词复数 ) | |
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hearths
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| 壁炉前的地板，炉床，壁炉边( hearth的名词复数 ) | |
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everlasting
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| adj.永恒的，持久的，无止境的 | |
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75
inquiries
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| n.调查( inquiry的名词复数 )；疑问；探究；打听 | |
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76
bleating
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| v.（羊，小牛）叫( bleat的现在分词 )；哭诉；发出羊叫似的声音；轻声诉说 | |
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77
lotion
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| n.洗剂 | |
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78
purge
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| n.整肃，清除，泻药，净化；vt.净化，清除，摆脱；vi.清除，通便，腹泻，变得清洁 | |
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79
clattered
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| 发出咔哒声（clatter的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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80
lame
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| adj.跛的，(辩解、论据等)无说服力的 | |
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81
bungled
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| v.搞糟，完不成( bungle的过去式和过去分词 )；笨手笨脚地做；失败；完不成 | |
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82
broached
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| v.谈起( broach的过去式和过去分词 )；打开并开始用；用凿子扩大（或修光）；（在桶上）钻孔取液体 | |
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83
dwindled
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| v.逐渐变少或变小( dwindle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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84
solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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85
acquitted
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| 宣判…无罪( acquit的过去式和过去分词 )； 使（自己）作出某种表现 | |
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86
catastrophe
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| n.大灾难，大祸 | |
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87
platitudes
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| n.平常的话，老生常谈，陈词滥调( platitude的名词复数 )；滥套子 | |
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88
colonists
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| n.殖民地开拓者，移民，殖民地居民( colonist的名词复数 ) | |
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89
perch
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| n.栖木，高位，杆；v.栖息，就位，位于 | |
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90
twitching
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| n.颤搐 | |
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91
unaware
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| a.不知道的，未意识到的 | |
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92
propped
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| 支撑，支持，维持( prop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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93
knuckles
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| n.（指人）指关节( knuckle的名词复数 )；（指动物）膝关节，踝v.（指人）指关节( knuckle的第三人称单数 )；（指动物）膝关节，踝 | |
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94
somber
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| adj.昏暗的，阴天的，阴森的，忧郁的 | |
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95
noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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96
eyelids
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| n.眼睑( eyelid的名词复数 )；眼睛也不眨一下；不露声色；面不改色 | |
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97
swollen
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| adj.肿大的，水涨的；v.使变大，肿胀 | |
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98
raven
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| n.渡鸟，乌鸦；adj.乌亮的 | |
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99
propitiate
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| v.慰解，劝解 | |
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100
gulp
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| vt.吞咽，大口地吸（气）；vi.哽住；n.吞咽 | |
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101
pounced
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| v.突然袭击( pounce的过去式和过去分词 )；猛扑；一眼看出；抓住机会（进行抨击） | |
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102
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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103
docile
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| adj.驯服的，易控制的，容易教的 | |
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104
obese
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| adj.过度肥胖的，肥大的 | |
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105
majestic
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| adj.雄伟的，壮丽的，庄严的，威严的，崇高的 | |
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106
tragic
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| adj.悲剧的，悲剧性的，悲惨的 | |
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107
quail
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| n.鹌鹑；vi.畏惧，颤抖 | |
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108
bishop
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| n.主教，（国际象棋）象 | |
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109
sagged
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| 下垂的 | |
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