Part 49 (1/2)

I saw Bigley's eyes flash, and for a moment I thought that he was going to say something harsh, and that we were going to have a quarrel through Bob Chowne's propensity for saying disagreeable things; but just then I happened to turn my head and saw a boat coming round the western corner of the entrance to the Gap.

”Why, there's father!” I cried. ”Where can he have been!”

That exclamation changed the conversation from what was a terribly touchy point with Bigley, who always felt it acutely if anyone hinted that his father indulged in smuggling.

”I know,” said Bob Chowne, changing his attack so that it was directed upon me. ”Well, if my father was so precious selfish as to get a boat and go out fis.h.i.+ng without me, I should kick up a row.”

”Why, you are always making rows without,” I said testily. ”My father has not been fis.h.i.+ng, I'm sure.”

”There he goes again,” cried Bob in an ill-used tone. ”That's Sep Duncan all over. I say, Big, he was trying to pick a quarrel with me up on the cliff when you came, and I wouldn't. Now he's at it again.”

”Well, I sha'n't stop to quarrel now,” I replied. ”Come on down and meet father.”

We were a good three hundred feet above the sh.o.r.e when I spoke, and starting off the others joined me, and we went down over the crumbling slates and then past the pebble ridge to where the little river bubbled up again through the stones before it reached the sea, and then in and out among the rocks, to stand and wait till my father rowed in.

”Ah, boys,” he cried, as the boat grounded, and we dragged it up over a smooth patch of sand, ”you are just in time to help.”

”Been fis.h.i.+ng, father?” I said.

”No; only on a little bit of investigation along the coast; but I found I had not time as it was drill day. There, make the boat fast to the buoy line, and let's get up to the mine, and we'll all go this afternoon when the drill's over.”

”This afternoon?” I said eagerly.

”Yes; the weather's lovely and warm, and you fellows can row me.”

I felt ready to toss up my hat and cheer, and I saw that Bigley was ready to do the same; but we both felt that we were getting too old, so we refrained.

”I'm afraid I can't go, Captain Duncan,” said Bob in an ill-used way.

”My father will be at home expecting me.”

”No, he will not, Bob,” said my father smiling; ”he will not be back from Barnstaple till quite late. Come along, my lad, and we'll have some lunch, and then begin drill. Had Sam started with the basket, Sep?”

”No, father,” I replied; ”but I saw Kicksey packing it when I came away.”

”Sure to be there,” said my father; and he led the way up the Gap with Bigley, to whom he always made a great point of being kind, partly because he was my old companion, and partly, as I thought, because he wanted to smooth away any ill feeling, and to make up for the break between us that kept threatening to come.

This upset Bob, who hung back and began to growl about not being sure he could stop to drill, and thought that, as we reached the end of the cliff path, he ought to go now, and altogether he required a great deal of coaxing to get him along, or rather he professed to want a great deal, till we reached the mine, where all was going on just as of old, the wheel turning, the water splas.h.i.+ng, furnace roaring, and the pump keeping on its regular thump.

Old Sam was standing at the counting-house door with a big basket, the one he always brought over, filled with provisions for our use, as so much time was spent at the mine; and as my father pulled out a big key, Sam took in the basket, cleared the table, and threw over it a white cloth, upon which he spread the provisions.

For a few minutes after we had sat down--Bob Chowne having to be fetched in, after sliding off so that he might be fetched back--we could not eat much for feasting our eyes on the bright swords and pistols; but young appet.i.tes would have their way, and we were soon eating heartily till the meat pasty and custard and cream were completely destroyed.

”A very bold attack,” said my father smiling. ”Now that ought to make muscle. Off with your coats, my lads, and roll up your sleeves.”

As he spoke he went to the door, and blew an old silver boatswain's whistle, when work was dropped, and the men came running up quickly from furnace, and out of the pit and stone-breaking sheds, till ten stout work-stained fellows stood in a row, showing the effect of the drill and discipline already brought to bear.

”Like the old days on the quarter-deck,” said my father to Bob Chowne.

”Now, Sep, serve out the arms.”