A Terrible Tomboy

  CHAPTER XIII

  THE SMUGGLERS' CAVE

  'Dark and dank, where the toad doth creep, And the dusk-loving bat haunts the shadows deep.'

  Great was the excitement in the family at the news of Aunt Helen'sengagement, and equal were the lamentations when it became known that,instead of settling down near them as a pleasant and desirable uncle,Mr. Neville intended to carry his bride back with him to India as soonas matters could possibly be arranged, for he held a high position underGovernment in an outlying province, and could only be spared on shortleave. Poor Aunt Helen was torn in two between the lover of her youthand the children of her adoption; but I really believe, when she sawBobby's tears, that if Father had not put his foot down firmly, shewould have thrown up everything, and clung to her bairns.

  As it was, the house seemed entirely upset. Miss Jones, the villagedressmaker, was installed in the Rose Parlour, and appeared to bestitching morning, noon, and night; the postman's bag was quite heavywith patterns and catalogues of Indian outfits; while distant relationsand old acquaintances, who had neglected the Abbey for years, kept Nancyin a state of perpetual agitation by turning up suddenly to paycongratulatory calls.

  'If they'd only send a letter to say they'd be coming,' she complained,'one would have a chance to be ready for 'em. But old Mrs. Osbornearrived o' Monday, with me in the midst of my washing, and never a bitof cake in the house; and there was Squire Henley and his lady o'churning day, and I had to leave the butter half made to bring in tea;and ten to one there'll be someone more o' Friday, when I'm cleaning mykitchens. What with visitors all days of the week, and Miss Jones withher snippings and mess in the parlour, I, for one, shall be glad whenthe wedding is over, though how the house is to go on without MissVaughan goodness only knows.'

  Peggy and Bobby liked the fun of the preparations, though they crept outof the way of the visitors as much as possible, for to be shown up inthe drawing-room involved an amount of dressing and tidying which didnot fit in at all with their ideas of holiday enjoyment, and they muchpreferred a picnic tea in the orchard, with Rollo and the rabbits forcompany, to the more select charms of the best china and the statelypatronage of the neighbouring dowagers.

  Lilian was busy trying to grow up suddenly and be ready to take AuntHelen's place, for she was old enough now to realize how muchresponsibility would rest with her when she must manage the reins of thehousehold alone, and she was determined that Father should feel aslittle discomfort as possible from the change.

  So the younger ones were left more than ever to their own devices, toamuse themselves as they liked, and to get into mischief or not,according to the whim of the moment. I am afraid, if there was anymischief in the case, the blame generally rested with Peggy, for it washer enterprising mind which planned out the schemes of enjoyment.

  It was certainly Peggy who suggested sitting on the top of the haystack,and making it sway backwards and forwards like a swing, a delightfulsensation while it lasted, but which ended suddenly in the collapse ofthe whole top of the stack, much to Father's wrath, for it took David acouple of hours to repair the damage, and certainly did not sweeten theold man's already crusty temper. It was also Peggy's most inopportuneidea to ride the brown cow round the pasture on the very afternoon thatMrs. Davenport was paying a stiff call in the drawing-room. She gaveBobby a leg up on to Brindle's broad back, and had just succeeded inscrambling inelegantly behind him, when the astonished quadruped pausedin her task of cropping the succulent grass and buttercups, andrealizing that something unusual was oppressing her, fled in mad careerover the meadow, with the delighted children clinging desperately to herhorns.

  'Hoop-la! Yoicks! Tally-ho! I believe she'll take the fence!' shoutedPeggy in anything but a quiet and young-lady-like tone of voice.

  'Gee up! Let her go! Hooray!' yelled Bobby, striking such a whack onBrindle's heaving side that she settled the matter by suddenly lyingdown to roll, and depositing her encumbrances in the miry ditch.

  The children jumped up in fits of laughter, but they sobered downconsiderably at the sight of the shocked faces of Aunt Helen and Mrs.Davenport, who were walking towards them over the pasture.

  Mrs. Davenport was a tall, majestic, long-nosed lady, the wife of aclergyman in a neighbouring village. She ruled both the parish and hermeek little husband with a rod of iron, and her mission in life seemedto be to find out that everybody else was wrong, and to try to set themright again. She had five darlings of her own, in whom she could see nofault, and whom she invariably held up as models of good behaviour toall the children of her acquaintance.

  Peggy and Bobby loathed the little Davenports, who were mild, pale,neat-looking little girls, so alike that each one seemed merely a copyof the next, a size smaller, and who always wore gloves, even in thegarden, and never dreamed of tearing their pinafores, or using slang,and went on prim little walks with their governess, instead ofscrambling over the fields; and, I grieve to say, that on the fewoccasions when they met, they had taken such a positive pleasure inleading their inoffensive companions into places which resulted insoiled dresses and dirty boots, that Mrs. Davenport discouraged theacquaintance as much as possible, never feeling easy even for the lifeand limbs of her progeny when they were in the society of 'thoseterrible young Vaughans,' and revenging herself by scathing remarks uponmanners and deportment, which were extremely trying to the feelings ofAunt Helen, who naturally thought _her_ children superior in every wayto 'those mealy-faced little Davenports, who look as if they had not thestrength or spirits to enjoy themselves, even if they were allowed totry.'

  Mrs. Davenport came up now, picking her way daintily over the pasture,in her best dress, and expressing her disapproval in her usual emphatictones.

  'I hope you are not hurt,' she said, eyeing Peggy severely, anddistinctly hesitating before she accepted the grimy hand which thatyoung lady offered in the agitation of the moment. 'Such an accidentmight have proved _most_ serious. I have known a child develop a spinalcomplaint from a far less fall, and I should have thought you were oldenough, Margaret, to restrain your brother from such foolish feats,instead of encouraging him. Dear me, you must be nearly twelve, Ibelieve--the same age as my Bertha, and she is already beginning to helpme with the parish accounts and spends all her spare time knitting forthe Deep Sea Missions. I am thankful to say none of my girls aretomboys! If you will take my advice, Miss Vaughan, you will urge yourbrother to see at once about getting a good, strict governess to takecharge of these children when you leave. A little wholesome disciplineis just what they require. Indeed, I know of a lady who would exactlysuit him; not too young, but still _most_ energetic. Lived seven yearswith my cousin, the Hon. Mrs. Lyttleton at Bratherton Hall, and justleaving, having prepared the youngest boy for school. And I can assureyou _their_ manners are everything that could be desired, and she isable to impart a style and a finish which, living so wholly in thecountry, is most important. A truly admirable housekeeper. Your dearLilian is, of course, young and inexperienced--and----'

  But here Mrs. Davenport's remarks, which had been wafted along in gusts,died away in the distance as she departed down the pasture to inspectthe hen-coops, and hint broadly for the gift of a couple of youngpullets, 'for yours are such an excellent breed, dear Miss Vaughan, andsuch capital winter layers. I shall only be too delighted to add them tomy stock, since you are so kind as to offer them, though really I amafraid you will think I never come to the Abbey without taking somethingaway with me.'

  Which was exactly what Aunt Helen did think, though she was too politeto say so, for Mrs. Davenport was well known to have an extremepartiality for presents, perhaps considering them as only her due inexchange for so much good advice.

  The children looked at one another with rather long faces.

  'I had no idea she was there,' said Bobby in an awe-struck whisper, 'orwe would have run away to the orchard. You don't think Father wouldreally be likely to get us that governess, do you?'--the horriblepossibility of the lady, still energetic, tho
ugh no longer young, andevidently capable of so much in the way of discipline, quite casting agloom over his youthful spirits.

  'No, no,' said Peggy hurriedly; 'he can't afford it. That's one comfortin not being well off, at any rate. And you know he said Lilian was todo the housekeeping. Oh, I don't think he would like that kind of agoverness any better than we should ourselves--' privately hoping thatFather's notions of self-sacrifice would not make him see fit to inflictso great a penance on himself and his family.

  But the very idea that such a course had evidently been suggested madethe children uneasy, and kept them for several days at a pitch of sedatebehaviour calculated to calm down Aunt Helen's possible fears for theirfuture welfare, and to render unnecessary the criticism of the mostfaithful and interfering of friends.

  Perhaps it was the natural reaction arising from this very unwontedstate of affairs, or merely the desire to keep as much as possible outof the way of afternoon callers, that put it into Peggy's head oneclose, sultry afternoon that they should go and explore a cave which layon the river at no great distance from the Abbey meadows.

  That such a cave existed the children knew well, for Joe had once beeninside, and had told them wonderful stories of smugglers in bygone days,and of kegs of brandy, and bales of silk and lace, and boxes of tea andtobacco, which were still supposed to be hidden in its depths, onlywaiting for some enterprising spirit to discover their hiding-place andbring them to light again.

  'And I don't see why _we_ shouldn't find them as well as anybody else,'said Peggy with enthusiasm. 'Just think of yards and yards of silk asstiff as paper, and old French lace, all yellow with age! We shouldn'tcare about the brandy, but Father and David would like the tobacco, andMrs. Davis and old Ephraim should have some of the tea. And we mightfind money, too. Smugglers always had bags of money--spade guineas, youknow, and Spanish doubloons, and all those kinds of things you readabout in books.'

  Having a very shrewd suspicion that Father and Aunt Helen might notapprove of such an escapade, Peggy took care not to mention her plans,and the children started off, feeling like a pair of conspirators, withthe stable-lantern, a few extra pieces of candle, and a box of matches.

  At the bottom of the meadows which bounded the Abbey land the river tooka sharp turn past a few bold cliffs which rose almost sheer out of thewater, and by scrambling along the rocks at the base it was possible toget round this headland and reach the low entrance of the cave, whichwas raised only a few feet above the level of the river.

  The mouth was overgrown with hazel-bushes and brambles and long,trailing twines of ivy, and it seemed to the children as if no foot buttheirs had disturbed it for a long time. Peggy looked at Bobby, andBobby looked at Peggy, and I think each felt just a little inclined tohang back, though neither would have confessed it for worlds; then, withthe solemn air of a Guy Fawkes, Peggy lighted the lantern, and boldlyplunged into the darkness, with Bobby following particularly closely ather elbow. At first the entrance was rather narrow and low, but it soonbroadened out until the roof was ten feet or more above their heads. Thesides of the rocky walls bulged out into irregular shelves, covered inparts with moss, and moist and clammy with slowly-dripping water.

  'Those will be the smugglers' cupboards that Joe spoke about,' saidPeggy, flashing the lantern into every nook and cranny, but with nosuccess, for there was never a sign of a box of tea or a keg of brandyto be seen.

  The air was close and damp, and their footsteps raised strange echoes asthey went, and loud voices seemed so out of place that, with one accord,the children spoke in whispers.

  'O-o-gh! something soft flapped in my face then!' exclaimed Bobby.

  Peggy held up the lantern over her head, and a number of bats, disturbedby the light, dropped from the roof where they had been suspended andwhirled round the cave, 'cheeping' angrily for some moments, and openingtheir tiny jaws at the children in quite a threatening manner, tillBobby clapped his hands, and they flew off to find their way into somedeeper retreat.

  'Come along,' said Peggy; 'let's go higher up. There's nothing to befound here.'

  Clinging together, the two walked with some caution, and it was wellthey did so, for the floor of the cave was suddenly interrupted by achasm, which seemed to have rent the earth in two, and was so deep thatthey could not see to the bottom. It was spanned by a plank, green withslime and rotten with age, placed there perhaps by the smugglers as ameans of retreating to a more secure hiding-place.

  Peggy flashed the light over the dark abyss to the still more gloomydepths beyond, but even her foolhardiness did not prompt her to try soperilous a bridge.

  'We'll get Joe to come some time with a new plank, and help us across,and then perhaps we may find something,' she said rather hurriedly, incase Bobby might expect her to continue the explorations.

  But that hero suggesting that it must be after teatime, she cordiallyagreed with him, and they began to retrace their steps to the entrance,feeling just a little disappointed, for somehow they had imagined asmugglers' cave would be a jolly, dry sort of a place, with at least afew remains of its former tenants strewn about--a pistol or two,perhaps, or a coil of rope, or a rusty dagger, just sufficient to givean air of romance to the adventure, even if the missing treasure werenot forthcoming.

  The air seemed to have grown more close and sultry while the childrenwere within the cave, and, just as they reached the mouth, a low,grumbling sound, which they had heard for some time, but not taken muchnotice of, broke into a crash of thunder that seemed to make the groundshake beneath them, while at the same instant a brilliant streak oflightning flashed zigzag across the sky, lighting up the gloom behindthem to its furthest recess.

  The storm had broken. Peal after peal of thunder rent the air, echoingin the cavern till Peggy and Bobby clung to one another in terror, whilethe rain came down in a perfect deluge, with such tropical fury that itseemed as if the very sky were descending. Crouched down on the floor bythe entrance, the children waited for the storm to pass by, wonderingat the vivid pink flashes and the size of the hailstones which beat inthrough the hazel-bushes. A little runnel of water, flowinguncomfortably near, brought Peggy to her feet with a sudden cry.

  'Bobby! Bobby! the river is rising, and the rocks are covered. We cannotget round the point to the meadow again!'

  It was but too true, for the sudden violence of the storm had swollenthe mountain-streams that fed the river, and the once-placid waters wereflowing past in a brown, turbulent flood, which seemed to sweepeverything along in its course. The stones over which they had scrambledwere completely covered, while waves were dashing against the face ofthe cliff. Here and there a dead sheep or pig drifted by, or a portionof a haystack; a hurdle floating like a raft bore on it a fewdisconsolate fowls, clucking dismally; while an occasional wash-tub orupturned table showed that the river must have already flooded some ofthe low-lying cottages higher up on its course.

  The children looked at each other with blanched faces.

  'We must stay where we are for the present,' said Peggy, trying to speakbravely, 'and perhaps the water will fall soon, and we shall be able toget home.'

  But the water did not fall. Each moment it seemed to flow with evenswifter current, and to be rising with terrible sureness nearer andnearer the mouth of the cave. It was already growing dusk, and distantrumblings among the hills showed that the storm was still raging overthe Welsh border, and sending down its torrents of rain to swell thealready overflowing river.

  Hungry, and chilly from the damp moisture that oozed down the walls, thepoor children sat quietly huddled together watching the cold graysurface of the water, which seemed like some cruel monster ever creepingnearer and nearer to infold them in its treacherous grasp.

  'Perhaps Father will guess where we've gone, and come for us with aboat,' suggested Bobby. 'I wish he would be quick. It's so cold andhorrid here, and I want my supper.'

  'Perhaps he will,' replied Peggy, as hopefully as she could, though inher heart of hearts she knew that the cave
was about the last placeanyone would dream of searching for them.

  There was a long silence; then, 'It's getting dark now,' said Bobby,'and the water is beginning to wet my feet.'

  'We must go back into the cave,' said Peggy. 'We shall be quite drythere, for the ground shelves up. See, I'm going to light the lanternagain. What a good thing we brought several pieces of candle!'

  The mere effort of having something to do cheered them up a little. Theyhunted about to find as dry a spot as possible, and put the lantern upupon one of the shelves of rock, so that it should cast as much light asit could around the cave. Then they sat down to wait again, for whatseemed to them an eternity of time.

  The mouth of the cavern loomed like a great eye, growing graduallyfainter and fainter as the daylight faded and the darkness grew outside.The river flowed by with a dull, roaring sound, and the little channelhad risen from the entrance, and began to lap gently on the floor. Themoisture dripped from the walls in loud-sounding drops, and the bats hadawakened again, and flew to and fro towards the lantern with a soft whirof wings. When the last faint patch of light faded from the openingBobby's bravery gave way, and the poor little fellow's tears chased eachother down his cheeks as he crouched in a miserable heap on the dampground.

  'I want to go home!' he wailed. 'Why doesn't Father come to fetch us?Don't you think they know where we are?'

  Peggy flung her arms round him in an agony of self-reproach.

  'Oh, Bobby darling! it's all my fault, for I made you come, and wouldn'tlet you tell where we were going, though you said we ought to ask leavefirst! Put your head on my shoulder, and try to go to sleep. PerhapsFather may find us after all, or the river will have gone down bymorning, and we shall be able to scramble round by the rocks.'

  'I must say my prayers first. Aunt Helen always comes into my room andhears them last thing before I get into bed.'

  'Say them with me to-night,' said Peggy, with a lump in her throat, asshe knelt by his side, thinking that perhaps Aunt Helen, too, waspraying at that moment that her dear ones might be safe.

  The old, familiar words seemed to have new meaning in them, said in themidst of the darkness and the danger, and the children felt that, thoughtheir earthly Father might be seeking far and wide for them in vain,they were known and cared for by 'our Father which art in heaven,' towhom the darkness is the same as daylight, and in whose sight not even asparrow falls to the ground unnoticed.

  Bobby fell asleep at last, with his head on Peggy's knee, the sound ofhis regular breathing mingling strangely with the lap of the water whichcrept nearer and ever nearer to them up the cave. Many thoughts came toPeggy that night, as she sat watching the light of the lantern flickerupon the rough walls. Father's reproachful face seemed to rise up out ofthe darkness, asking 'Where is Bobby? What have you done with my littleboy?' Good resolutions made, and alas! too often forgotten, crowded innow upon her remembrance, and as she listened to the roar of the river,she thought how strange it would seem that they two, so full of life,might in a few hours be floating very still and silent upon that flowingstream, with the world only a memory behind them. But Peggy had been toomuch with the Rector to have any fear of death. He, she knew, viewedthis life as merely the stepping-stone to a fuller and richer lifebeyond, and the body as but the worthless husk of the soul, so with adreamy feeling that somehow Mr. Howell had set the gate of the nextworld ajar, and allowed some of the glory to steal out and comfort her,the child closed her tired eyes, and slept as quietly as if she had beensafe in her bed at home, and the storm and the rushing water nothing buta vision of the night.

  She woke with the sound of little lapping waves, to find that the waterhad risen higher, and now formed a deep pool on the floor of the cave,reaching almost to their feet. The candle had burnt low in the lantern,and even as she looked it gave a last flicker, and guttered out, leavingher in utter darkness. With trembling fingers, Peggy felt in her pocketfor the remaining piece of candle and the box of matches. She tried tostrike a light, but the match was damp, and fizzled away withoutigniting. A second and a third met with the same fate, and Peggy was ina panic of despair, until she remembered that Father had once told herto rub damp matches through her hair before striking them. This methodproved a success, and she was able to relight the lantern, laying Bobbygently down on the floor, hoping he might not wake.

  But the movement disturbed him, and he sprang to his feet, calling:'Father, is that you? We're here, in the cave!'

  'It's not Father yet, dear; only me lighting the lantern again.'

  'I was dreaming that it was morning,' said Bobby, rubbing his eyes, 'andthat Father had come to fetch us away in a boat.'

  'I think it will be morning soon,' said Peggy. 'We seem to have sleptfor a long time. Bobby, dear, the water is rising so fast that I don'tthink we shall be able to stay here much longer, but I have a plan whichI think we might perhaps carry out. Joe told me that people say the cavewas really only the entrance to a secret passage which runs to theAbbey, and in the old days the smugglers used to carry their goods upthere, and hide them away amongst the ruins. We must try and cross bythat plank, and see if there is really any possible opening, except bythe river.'

  Anything seemed better than sitting still in the darkness watching thegrowing water, so the children went up the cave again to where the chasmlay yawning across their path.

  'We mustn't try to walk over it,' said Peggy, as she doubtfully examinedthe slippery, shaky plank. 'I shall crawl over first with the lantern,and then I'll hold the light for you, and you must follow in the sameway.'

  It felt a very insecure bridge to poor Peggy, as she crept over on herhands and knees, trying not to look down into the dark gulf below, sofrail and insecure that she shuddered for Bobby, who seemed so unnervedthat she scarcely dared allow him to make the trial.

  'Wait a moment!' she cried. 'Don't start just yet!'

  And hurriedly taking off her pinafore, she tore it into strips, andknotting them together in a kind of rope, threw one end of it across tohim.

  'Now tie that firmly to your arm before you set off, and then, if youfall, I think I might be able to drag you up again.'

  But luckily Peggy's childish strength was not put to the test, for Bobbyaccomplished the crossing in safety, and scrambled over the rocks whichrose at the other side. Holding up the lantern, the children found theywere in what seemed to be the entrance of a rough kind of passage. Thatit was not altogether of natural origin was evident from the traces ofbuilt-up stones, while here and there the walls showed the marks of thepick. The air was stale and damp and difficult to breathe, and thecandle burnt so badly that several times Peggy feared it was going outaltogether. They went stumbling along over the irregular floor,wondering whether their way was taking them to safety, or only into thebowels of the earth.

  On and on the passage led them, sometimes through places so narrow theycould scarcely scramble through, or so low that, small as they were,they were obliged to stoop; now up hill, now down, round many a sharpcurve, till it ended suddenly in a small cavern about ten feet square.

  Peggy lifted up the lantern high over her head, and looked anxiouslyround. Apparently they were in nothing but a blind alley, for thereseemed no possible way out, except the path by which they had come. Thepoor children stared at each other with hopeless horror.

  'We shall have to go back, and chance the river going down when it'slight,' faltered Peggy.

  "BOBBY ACCOMPLISHED THE CROSSING IN SAFETY."]

  'Oh, no, no! We can't go back over that hateful plank again and sitwatching the water come up! I would rather be drowned here than there!Oh, Father, Father! do come and find us!' And Bobby sat down upon theground with such a wail of despair that Peggy at last lost herself-control and found herself joining in his sobs.

  But she stopped suddenly, and laying a restraining hand on his shoulder,put up her finger for silence, for it seemed to her that from the regionsomewhere over their heads she had heard a distant shout.

  'Call again, Bo
bby, like you did before!' And both together the childrenjoined their voices in a wild shriek of 'Father!'

  This time there was an unmistakable shout of reply, and after whatseemed to them a long interval of calling they could hear Father's voicefrom above quite plainly saying, 'Where are you?'

  'In a cave down below!' cried Peggy, trying to make her voice carry inthe hollow atmosphere.

  Now that help was near she was her brisk, capable self again, and,seizing the lantern, searched round every foot of the cavern till shediscovered what seemed to be the beginning of a little staircase, longsince blocked by earth and stones.

  'Here, Father! Dig for us here!' she called, and taking up a stone,began to tap like she had heard of imprisoned miners doing in thecoal-pits.

  There was silence for a few minutes, and then the children began to hearthe welcome sound of a pickaxe, and Father's voice every now and then,shouting a word of encouragement to them. At length there was a rumblingnoise in the roof above, some loose stones and earth fell, and Fathercalled loudly:

  'Stand back! Keep out of the way!'

  Peggy clutched Bobby, and retreated into the passage, while a shower ofstones and soil came pouring down into the cave, till a great rent wasmade in the roof, and Father dropped through the hole like Santa Clausdown the chimney, only no saint was ever so welcome, even atChristmas-time.

  It did not take very long for the children to be hauled up by Joe at thetop, and they found themselves standing among the Abbey ruins in theearly gray of the dawn, with Aunt Helen rushing to catch them in herarms, and Lilian hugging them and sobbing over them by turns, whileNancy, her face all blotched and swollen with crying, kept hoveringround to put in a kiss whenever the others gave her a chance, and evenold David cleared his throat hard, and 'blessed the Lord they weresafe.'

  Very little was said until the children had been warmed and fed andcomforted by the dining-room fire, and then Mr. Vaughan would only allowthe briefest account of their adventures before they were put to bed tosleep off the effects of their night of exposure. Nancy prophesiedquinsy and pleurisy and rheumatic fever, but the Vaughans were a hardyrace, and not even a cold resulted, in spite of her gloomyprognostications.

  Peggy's quiet talk with Father next day was so entirely betweenthemselves that I shall not repeat it; but it is often incidents, andnot years, which help us to grow up, and somehow afterwards she alwaysfound herself dating events from that night in the cave, and all thepart 'when I was little' came before, and the older and more sensiblepart seemed to follow afterwards.