<h2><SPAN name="CHAPTER_LXV">CHAPTER LXV.</SPAN><br/> <span class="small1">SO DOES POOR OLD DAVY.</span></h2>
<p>Hereupon, you may well suppose that the grass must no
longer grow under my feet. With one man, and positively
two women, in this very same county, having possession of
my secret, how long could I hope to work this latter to any
good purpose? Luckily Burrington lay at a very great distance
from Nympton on the Moors, and with no road from one
to the other; so that if Mr and Mrs Shapland should fail of
keeping their promised tightness, at least two Barnstaple
market-days must pass before Nympton heard anything. And
but for this consideration, even their style of treatment would
not have made me so confiding.</p>
<p>On the following morn, while looking forth at pigs, and
calves, and cocks, and ducks, I perceived that the crash must
come speedily, and resolved to be downright smart with it.
So after making a brisk little breakfast, upon the two wings
and two legs of a goose, grilled with a trifle of stuffing, there
was but one question I asked before leaving many warm tears
behind me.</p>
<p>"Good Mistress Shapland, would you know that jemmyset
of the child, if you saw it?"</p>
<p>"Captain Wells, I am not quite a natural. My own stitching
done with a club-head, all of it, and of a three-lined thread
as my uncle's, and nobody else had, to Barnstaple. Likewise
the mark of the Princess done, a mannygram, as they call it."</p>
<p>The weather was dull, and the time of year as stormy
as any I know of: nevertheless it was quite fine now, and
taking upon myself to risk five guineas out of my savings,
Ilfracombe was the place I sought, and found it with some
difficulty. Thus might Barnstaple bar be avoided, and all the
tumbling of inshore waters; and thus with no more than a
pilot-yawl did I cross that dangerous channel, at the most
dangerous time of the year almost. Nothing less than my
Royal clothes and manifest high rank in the Navy could have
induced this fine old pilot to make sail for the opposite coast
in the month of November, when violent gales are so common
with us. But I showed him two alternatives, three golden
guineas on the one hand, impressment on the other; for a
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_448">[Pg 448]</SPAN></span>
press-gang was in the neighbourhood now, and I told him that
I was its captain, and that we laughed at all certificates. And
not being sure that this man and his son might not combine
to throw me overboard, steal my money, and run back to port,
I took care to let them perceive my entry of their names and
my own as well in the register of the coast-guard. However
they proved very honest fellows, and we anchored under Porthcawl
point soon after dark that evening.</p>
<p>Having proved to the pilot that he was quite safe here, unless
it should come on to blow from south-east, of which there
was no symptom, and leaving him under the care of Sandy,
who at my expense stood treat to him, I made off for Candleston,
not even stopping for a chat with Roger Berkrolles. The
Colonel, of course, as well as his sister Lady Bluett, and Rodney,
wore delighted with what I had to tell them, while the
maid herself listened with her face concealed to the tale of her
own misfortune. Once or twice she whispered to herself, "Oh
my poor poor father!" and when I had ended she rose from
the sofa where Lady Bluett's arm was around her, and went to
the Colonel and said, "How soon will you take me to my
father!"</p>
<p>"My darling Bertha," said the Colonel, embracing her, as if
she had been his daughter, "we will start to-morrow, if Llewellyn
thinks the weather quite settled, and the boat quite
safe. He knows so much about boats, you see. It would take
us a week to go round by land. But we won't start at all, if
you cry, my dear!"</p>
<p>I did not altogether like the tone of the Colonel's allusion
to me; still less was I pleased when he interrupted Lady
Bluett's congratulations, thanks, and fervent praises of my
skill, perseverance, and trustiness in discovering all this
villany.</p>
<p>"Humph!" said the Colonel; "I am not quite sure that this
villany would have succeeded so long, unless a certain small
boat had proved so adapted for fishing purposes."</p>
<p>"Why, Henry!" cried his sister; "how very unlike you!
What an unworthy insinuation! After all Mr Llewellyn has
done; it is positively ungrateful. And he spoke of that boat
in this very room, as I can perfectly well remember, not—oh
not—I am sure any more than a very few years ago, my dear."</p>
<p>"Exactly," said the Colonel; "too few years ago. If he
had spoken of that at the time, as distinctly as he did afterwards,
when the heat of inquiry was over, and when Sir Philip
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_449">[Pg 449]</SPAN></span>
himself had abandoned it, I do not see how all this confusion,
between the loss of a foreign ship and the casting away of a
British boat, could have arisen, or at any rate could have failed
to be cleared away. Llewellyn, you know that I do not judge
hastily. Sir, I condemn your conduct."</p>
<p>"Oh, Colonel, how dreadful of you! Mr Llewellyn, go and
look at the weather, while I prove to the Colonel his great mistake.
You did speak of the boat at the very inquest, in the
most noble and positive manner; and nobody would believe
you, as you your very self told me. What more could any
man do? We are none of us safe, if we do our very best, and
have it turned against us."</p>
<p>My conscience all this time was beating, so that I could
hear it. This is a gift very good men have, and I have made
a point of never failing to cultivate it. In this trying moment,
with even a man so kind and blameless suddenly possessed, no
doubt, by an evil spirit against me, stanch as rock my conscience
stood, and to my support it rose, creditably for both of us.</p>
<p>"Colonel Lougher," my answer was, "you will regret this
attack on the honour of a British officer. One, moreover,
whose great-grandfather harped in your Honour's family. Captain
Bluett understands the build of a boat as well as I do.
He shall look at that boat to-morrow morning, and if he declares
her to be English-built, you may set me down, with all
my stripes and medals, for a rogue, sir. But if he confirms
my surety of her being a foreigner, nothing but difference of
rank will excuse you, Colonel Lougher, from being responsible
to me."</p>
<p>My spirit was up, as you may see; and the honour of the
British Navy forced me to speak strongly: although my affection
for the man was such that sooner than offend him, I would
have my other arm shot away.</p>
<p>"Llewellyn," said the Colonel, with his fine old smile spreading
very pleasantly upon his noble countenance; "you are of
the peppery order which your old Welsh blood produces.
Think no more of my words for the present. And if my
nephew agrees with you in pronouncing the boat a foreigner, I
will give you full satisfaction by asking your pardon, Llewellyn.
It was enough to mislead any man."</p>
<p>Not to dwell upon this mistake committed by so good a man,
but which got abroad somehow—though my old friend Crumpy,
I am sure, could never have been listening at the door—be it
enough in this hurry to say, that on the next morning I was enabled
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_450">[Pg 450]</SPAN></span>
to certify the weather. A smartish breeze from the north-north-west,
with the sea rather dancing than running, took poor
Bardie to her native coast, from which the hot tide had borne
her. Before we set sail, I had been to Sker in Colonel Lougher's
two-wheeled gig, and obtained from good Moxy the child's
jemmyset from the old oak chest it was stored in.</p>
<p>And now I did a thing which must for ever acquit me of all
blame so wrongfully cast upon me. That is to say, I fetched
out the old boat, which Sandy Macraw had got covered up;
and releasing him in the most generous manner from years and
years of backrent, what did I do but hitch her on to the stern
of the pilot-yawl, for to tow? Not only this, but I managed
that Rodney should sail on board as her skipper, and for his
crew should have somebody who had crossed the channel before
in that same poor and worthless boat, sixteen years agone, I do
declare! And they did carry on a bit, now and then, when
our sprit-sail hid them from our view. For the day was bright,
and the sea was smooth.</p>
<p>The Colonel and I were on board of the yawl, enjoying perfect
harmony. For Captain Rodney of course had confirmed
my opinion as to the build of the boat, and his uncle desired
to beg my pardon, which the largeness of my nature quite refused
to hear of. If a man admits that he has wronged me,
satisfied I am at once, and do not even point out always, that
I never could have done the like to him.</p>
<p>Colonel Lougher had often been at sea, in the time of his
active service, and he seemed to enjoy this trip across channel,
and knew all the names of the sails and spars. But falling in
as we did with no less than three or four small craft on our
voyage, he asked me how Delushy's boat could possibly have
been adrift for a whole night and day on the channel, without
any ship even sighting her. I told him that this was as simple
as could be, during that state of the weather. A burning haze,
or steam from the land, lay all that time on the water; and
the lower part thereof was white, while the upper spread was
yellow. Also the sea itself was white from the long-continued
calmness, so that a white boat scarcely would show at half a
mile of distance. And even if it did, what sailors were likely
to keep a smart look-out in such roasting weather? Men talk
of the heat ashore sometimes; but I know that for downright
smiting, blinding, and overwhelming sun-power, there is nothing
ashore to compare with a ship.</p>
<p>Also I told the Colonel, now that his faith in me was re-established,
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_451">[Pg 451]</SPAN></span>
gliding over the water thus, I was enabled to make
plain to him things which if he had been ashore might have
lain perhaps a little beyond his understanding. I showed him
the set of the tides by tossing corks from his bottles overboard,
and begging him to take a glass of my perspective to watch
them. And he took such interest in this, and evinced so much
sagacity, that in order to carry on my reasoning with any perspicacity,
cork after cork I was forced to draw, to establish my
veracity.</p>
<p>Because he would argue it out that a boat, unmanned and
even unmasted, never could have crossed the channel as
Bardie's boat must needs have done. I answered that I might
have thought so also, and had done so for years and years, till
there came the fact to the contrary; of which I was pretty well
satisfied now; and when the boat was produced and sworn to,
who would not be satisfied? Also I begged to remind him
how strongly the tide ran in our channel, and that even in
common weather the ebb of the spring out of Barnstaple river
might safely be put at four knots an hour, till Hartland point
was doubled. Here, about two in the morning, the flood would
catch the little wanderer, and run her up channel some ten or
twelve miles, with the night-wind on the starboard-beam
driving her also northward. When this was exhausted, the
ebb would take her into Swansea Bay almost, being so light a
boat as she was, with a southern breeze prevailing. And then
the next flood might well bring her to Sker,—exactly the thing
that had come to pass. Moreover I thought, as I told the
Colonel (although of course with diffidence), from long acquaintance
with tropical waters and the power of the sun upon them,
I thought it by no means unlikely that the intense heat of the
weather, then for more than six weeks prevailing, might have
had some strong effect on the set and the speed of the currents.</p>
<p>However, no more of arguments. What good can they do,
when the thing is there, and no reasoning can alter it? Even
Parson Chowne might argue, and no doubt would with himself
(although too proud with other people), that all he did was
right, and himself as good a man as need be.</p>
<p>We ran across channel in some six hours, having a nice
breeze abaft the beam, and about the middle of the afternoon
we landed at Ilfracombe cleverly. This is a little place lying
in a hole, and with great rocks all around it, fair enough to look
at, but more easy to fall down than to get up them. And even
the Barnstaple road is so steep that the first hill takes nearly
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_452">[Pg 452]</SPAN></span>
two hours of climbing. Therefore, in spite of all eager spirits,
we found ourselves forced to stay there that night, for no one
would horse us onwards, so late at this November season.</p>
<p>Perhaps, however, it was worth while to lose a few hours for
the sake of seeing Delushy's joy in her native land. This, like
a newly-opened spring, arose, and could not contain itself. As
soon as her foot touched the shore, I began to look forward to
a bout of it. For I understand young women now, very well,
though the middle-aged are beyond me. These latter I hope
to be up to, if ever I live to the age of fourscore years, as my
constitution promises. And if the Lord should be pleased to
promote me to the ripe and honest century (as was done to my
great-grandfather), then I shall understand old women also,
though perhaps without teeth to express it.</p>
<p>However this was a pretty thing, and it touched me very
softly. None but those who have roamed as I have understand
the heart-ache. For my native land I had it, ever and continually,
and in the roar of battle I was borne up by discharging
it. And so I could enter into our poor Bardie, going about
with the tears in her eyes. For she would not allow me to
rest at the inn, as I was fain to do in the society of some
ancient fishermen, and to leave the gentlefolk to their own
manner of getting through the evening.</p>
<p>"Come out," she cried, "old Davy; you are the only one
that knows the way about this lovely place."</p>
<p>Of course I had no choice but to obey Sir Philip's own
granddaughter, although I could not help grumbling; and
thus we began to explore a lane as crooked as a corkscrew, and
with ferns like palm-trees feathering. In among them little
trickling rills of water tinkled, or were hushed sometimes by
moss, and it looked as if no frost could enter through the leafy
screen above.</p>
<p>"What a country to be born in! What a country to belong
to!" exclaimed the maid continually, sipping from each crystal
runnel, and stroking the ferns with reverence. "Uncle Henry,
don't you think now that it is enough to make one happy to
belong to such a land?"</p>
<p>"Well, my dear," said her Uncle Henry, as she had been
ordered to call the Colonel, "I think it would still more conduce
to happiness for some of the land to belong to you. Ah,
Llewellyn, I see, is of my opinion."</p>
<p>So I was, and still more so next day, when, having surmounted
that terrible hill, we travelled down rich dairy valleys
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_453">[Pg 453]</SPAN></span>
on our road to Barnstaple. Here we halted for refreshment,
and to let Delushy rest and beautify herself, although we could
see no need of that. And now she began to get so frightened
that I was quite vexed with her: her first duty was to do me
credit; and how could she manage it, if her eyes were red?
The Colonel also began to provoke me, for when I wanted to
give the maid a stiff glass of grog to steady her, he had no more
sense than to countermand it, and order a glass of cold water!</p>
<p class="pmb3">As soon as we came to Narnton Court, we found a very
smart coach in the yard, that quite put to shame our hired
chaise, although the good Colonel had taken four horses, so as
to land us in moderate style. Of course it was proper that I,
who alone could claim Sir Philip's acquaintance, as well as the
merit of the whole affair, should have the pleasure of introducing
his new grandchild to him; so that I begged all the rest to
withdraw, and the only names that we sent in, were Captain
Llewellyn and "Miss Delushy." Therefore we were wrong, no
doubt, in feeling first a little grievance, then a large-minded
impatience, and finally a strong desire—ay, and not the desire
alone—to swear, before we got out of it. I speak of myself
and Captain Bluett, two good honest sailors, accustomed to
declare their meaning since the war enabled them. But Colonel
Lougher (who might be said, from his want of active service,
to belong to a past generation), as well as Delushy, who was
scarcely come into any generation yet,—these two really set an
example, good, though hard, to follow.</p>
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