The Birthright

The man with whom I had been speaking walked out of the cave, and I could not but think he had been brought up as a gentleman in spite of his wild, unkempt appearance.

"What is it?" I asked. "Where is the convent to which Miss Penryn was taken? Can you tell me that?"

"No, I ca'ant; ted'n 'bout that."

"What then?"

"You reckleck thicky night when you comed 'ome from say – that night when mawther brought out the crock and brandis, and tould yer fortin?"

"Yes."

"And you do mind to that Cap'n Jack and Cap'n Billy Coad comed to 'ee?"

"I remember."

"Well, you eerd 'em axin mawther 'bout the saicret paaper that tould 'em 'bout a treasure?"

"Yes."

"Well" – and Eli put his mouth close to my ear – "I do knaw where thicky paaper es. I've vound un out, an' saved un for Maaster Jasper."

"What do you mean?"

"Eli do love Maaster Jasper" – and again the poor gnome began fondling and caressing my hands – "so Eli have wormed around and around, and ev vound out where et es. Aw, aw, when Cap'n Jack an' Cap'n Billy cudden vind et they ded swear they ded, but Eli do knaw, an' Eli'll give ut to Maaster Jasper, 'ee will, then Maaster Jasper c'n pay 'em oal out. Turn out Maaster Trezidder, my deear, and live at Pennington."

"Tell me more about it, Eli?" I cried.

"Hush, we mus'n tell nobody. Aw, aw!" and again the dwarf laughed gleefully.

"There's no witchcraft, no wizard's charms about the treasure, is there? It wasn't made in hell, was it?"

"No, no; tes oal right. Granfer Fraddam was once a pirut on the 'igh says."

"Yes; I know he was once a pirate on the high seas, but what of that?"

"Well, he got the paaper from another pirut. Some do zay he ded kill un, but that ed'n true. Well, 'ee got et."

"Yes; but if he got a paper telling where the treasure was, why did he not take it away?"

"Well, Granfer cudden raid, fur wawn thing, and fur another, 'ee wos feared."

"Afraid of what?"

"Several things. For wawn thing, he was tould that 'twas onlucky to git a treasure that was got through killin' people; but that wudden stop Granfer, I do knaw."

"Then what was it?"

"Well, Granfer cudden raid the direckshuns, and 'ee cud never maake up his mind to shaw et to anybody that cud. Now, they do zay that when 'ee talked 'bout et 'ee was awful feared. He zed ef 'ee shawed et to anybody they'd kill un. I spoase Granfer was a wisht ould man after 'ee 'ad a accident, and was too ould to live out to say. He repented and turned religious. That was why 'ee ded'n do nothin' but smugglin'. Well, so 'ee did eed away the paper wot 'ee got from the man, and waited till 'ee cud vind somebody to trust. But he cudden vind nobody – nobody toal. Besides, everybody was frad to 'ave anything to do wi' Granfer. People did believe 'ee was a wizard, and 'ad dailins weth the devil. Mawther do zay that nobody would go out mor'n seven mile out to say weth Granfer."

"And where is this paper?"

"Aw, aw. I vound out I did. Granfer tould mawther, and mawther did tell me. I vound et, and did eed it in another plaace. Aw, aw, you shud a eerd Cap'n Jack and Cap'n Billy swear when they cudden vind et. Aw, aw. But I did love Maaster Jasper, and I'll take 'ee to et, Maaster Jasper, my deear."

All the time Eli was speaking he kept fondling my hands and caressing me, just as a man would caress a maid whom he loves.

"But does your mother know what you have done?"

"No, she doan't. She do believe it have been sperrited away."

"Spirited away; what do you mean?"

"Mawther do knaw. Aw, aw. But she ed'n right this time, and yet she is oal the time."

As I have before mentioned, it was no uncommon thing to hear about hidden treasures along our coast. Indeed, from earliest childhood I have heard of gangs of pirates burying treasures in many of our secret hiding-places; so common were such stories that we had ceased to pay attention to them. Consequently I had given but little attention to the conversation I had heard between Cap'n Jack and Betsey, neither did I attach much value to what Eli had been telling me. If such a treasure existed, and if Granfer Fraddam knew of it, he would have found means to have obtained it. I knew that during Granfer Fraddam's later years he was said to have tried to get religion, and wanted very hard to break away from a compact he made with the evil one in his young days. There were also stories telling how he pleaded with Betsey to give up all connection with witchcraft, and that because she would not agree to this he died in his secret cave rather than have her near him. But all these were stories to which I, who had had a fair amount of schooling, had paid but little attention.

Besides, at this time I was thinking about the sweet maid that I loved rather than the treasure that Eli spoke about. What were treasures to me if she were dead? What was Pennington, the home of my fathers even, if she had been slowly killed by the Tresidder brood? I asked myself many times what Nick Tresidder had meant by his words; I wondered, too, where the convent was in which she had been placed, and as I wondered my heart was torn with anguish, for all the world was nothing to me without Naomi.

And so for a long time I did not talk to Eli concerning that about which he had spoken. I seemed rather to be eating my heart away, and almost wished that I had died when I had plunged into the sea a few hours before, for what could I do? Where was the convent in which she was placed? How could I get to her? And if I tried, what steps would the Tresidders take to hinder me? From the fact that Nick Tresidder had come to Trevose, would it not suggest that he had come to claim the land as his? And would he not take steps even now to get me out of the way?

These and a hundred other questions I asked myself, until my brain became weary again, and my heart was sick with disappointment, sorrow, and despair.

"Will Maaster Jasper go with poor little Eli?" grunted my companion presently. "I knaw where the paper es, Maaster Jasper. 'Tes covered weth ritin' and funny lines; but Maaster Jasper es clever, he can vind et out. Spanish money, Maaster Jasper – 'eaps and 'eaps ov et. You could buy back Pennington, Maaster Jasper, and pay out the Trezidders – pay 'em out; iss, an' turn 'em out, neck and crop!"

Why is it, I wonder, that the human heart turns so naturally to revenge? In my despair it came to me as a comfort, this thought of driving the Tresidders from Pennington. For the moment I became eager about Eli's story of the treasure, and asked many questions – foolish as the whole business might be – as to what Granfer Fraddam had told his mother, and what she had told him.

After a while I remembered the man who had been our companion, and I sent Eli to try and find him.

When Eli had gone I examined my clothes and found them dry. So I put them on, wondering all the time as to whose they might be, and who had worn them prior to the time the man had given them to me.

No sooner had I finished dressing than Eli and the man came in. I thought the latter looked more calm and self-possessed. He brought some bread, too, and some salted fish. Then for the first time I saw some simple cooking utensils in the cave.

"Have you been living in this cave?" I asked.

"Yes," he replied; "I have been living here for a month. But you are welcome. I want to do good deeds if I may. I want to atone."

"Have you done anything so bad, then," I asked, "else why do you wish to atone?"

He looked at me eagerly for a few seconds; then, without speaking, he put two pans on the fire, first of all filling them with water. After this he placed the fish in one of the pans, and waited while the water boiled.

"What is your name, young man?" he asked presently.

"Jasper Pennington."

"Of Pennington?"

"Yes; what do you know about it?"

"I knew of a family of that name long years ago. Pennington of Pennington. Why are you in this plight?"

"Because I have been robbed of my birthright," I replied, bitterly.

"By whom?"

"The Tresidder family."

"The Tresidder family – ah!" He said this with great bitterness and passion. After a few seconds he grew calm again. "And have you sought to be revenged?"

"I have sought rather to win back my own. But what do you know of the Tresidders?"

"Nothing – oh, nothing, nothing, nothing! What could I, a poor shipwrecked sailor, know about a great family?" This he said hurriedly, almost fearfully, I thought. Presently he continued, "And you have done no rash deeds, Jasper Pennington?"

"No."

"You have not killed any of their men, their women?"

"No; not yet."

"Oh, be careful. Do you know" – and he heaped some driftwood on the fire – "that one moment of madness drives a man to hell? I've been in hell now for – oh, nigh upon twenty years. Hell, Jasper Pennington, a burning hell! Suffer anything, anything rather than – than – oh, it's nothing. I'm only imagining still; but there – " And he became silent again.

In spite of my many doubts and fears I became interested in the man, and I watched him closely.

"Look, Jasper Pennington," he said presently, "anything got through evil, through bloodshed, through murder carries a curse with it. I've had the curse of Cain upon me now for many a year. I have been a wanderer on the face of the earth, but I have kept my eyes open. Everywhere it has been the same. Blood money, hate money, money evilly got, always carries a curse. Don't touch it, don't touch it! It does not burn the hands – oh, but it burns the heart, the soul! Oh, I have seen! I know!"

"But supposing your father had his home stolen from him by lies, treachery, fraud – suppose your father said to you with his dying breath, 'Get back that land; it is yours, it is your birthright, your true possession,' what would you do?"

"Jasper Pennington, there be other birthrights than those of law – there be those of God. There is the birthright of clean, bloodless hands and a pure heart; there is the birthright of an easy conscience, and the power to pray! It is more than money."

"You do not know everything," I said, "or you would speak differently."

"I not know!" he cried; "I not know! My God! my God!"

For a few seconds I thought him mad again, but presently he became calm. "The food is ready," he said; "we will eat of it. I got it from a cottage yonder. After we have eaten you may like to tell me all about yourself. Perchance I could help you; perchance, too, I am not what I seem."

Something about the man charmed me. As I have mentioned, he spoke correctly, and in spite of his strange attire he looked like a gentleman. So when I had eaten I told him my story.

"Is that all?" he said, when I had finished. "There is something else. Your eyes would never shine so at the thought of being robbed of lands."

"Yes, there is more," I cried, for I had not told him of my love; and then – and I wondered at myself as I did so – I told him of my love for Naomi, but only in barest outline. I did not tell her name, I did not speak of her as coming from Trevose, I did not relate how Richard Tresidder hoped through her to gain Trevose.

When I had finished he sat for many minutes looking steadfastly into the fire, while his eyes grew as red as the red coals into which he looked.

"You have not told me all yet, Jasper Pennington," he said; "there is much behind. Why do you think they have ill-treated if not killed the fair maid you love? Why should they seek to put her into the convent? Ay, more, how and by what right were you taken to yon house on the cliffs? Tell me that, Jasper Pennington."

He spoke slowly, but with terrible intensity, and for a moment a feeling which I cannot describe passed through my heart.

"There is something else, Jasper Pennington," he continued. "What is the name of the fair maid you love, and whose child is she?"

On saying this he caught my hand with a hard, tight grasp, and looked eagerly into my eyes.

CHAPTER XVIII

HOW I LEFT BEDRUTHEN STEPS AND, AFTER MEETING TAMSIN TRUSCOTT, SOUGHT FOR NAOMI

I know not why, but when the stranger acted in this way he seemed to put a bridle on my tongue. The name of my love was on my lips, but I could not utter it.

"Are you afraid to tell, Jasper Pennington?" he asked, eagerly.

"It is not for you to know," I replied; "besides, she may be dead. I have been told that she – " Then I stopped, for my heart seemed to grow too big for my bosom.

"Died of a broken 'art," mumbled Eli. "The Trezidders killed 'er."

"Tell me more!" cried the stranger, excitedly. Then he added, in calmer tones, "I may be able to help you."

But I did not speak, whereupon he walked to and fro the cave, making all sorts of ejaculations, and at times looking savagely at me, as though I were his enemy.

Presently, however, he grew calm and thoughtful; he seemed to be musing over what I had told him, as though he had an interest in it. This surprised me greatly, and set me thinking who he could be, until plans of action for myself began to form themselves in my brain.

After I had thought awhile I went out of the cave and stood in the bay called Bedruthen Steps. Accustomed as I had been all my life to the sight of a fine rock-bound coast, I could not help being awed at the scene. The great rocks which lift their mighty heads in Kynance Cove were not equal to these. Often while living at Cap'n Jack's house I had wandered along the many-coloured cliffs which stretch from Kynance to the Lizard, and had seen the waves leap on them, sometimes playfully, sometimes in mad anger, while thousands of streamlets ran down their rugged sides afterward, as if to laugh at the anger of the sea; but never had I seen anything so fine, so awe-inspiring as this. For a moment it made me forget the objects dearest to my heart. The tide was not high enough to reach the mouth of the cave at which I stood; at the same time the angry seas rolled madly along the sand, and were churned into foam by the great rocks along the beach. I had heard about rocks standing as sentinels, but never until then did I realise the meaning of the words. That day, however, the meaning of such language was quite plain. The cliffs stood from three to four hundred feet high, almost perpendicular, save here and there where some narrow gully sloped somewhat. These cliffs were dark gray, rough, jagged and forbidding, and seemed to quietly mock the roving, rushing sea which beat upon them.

Along the beach, perhaps a hundred yards or more from the cliffs, a number of huge rocks stood alone. I suppose at some time they must have slipped from the mainland, but that was undoubtedly in the far-back past. One of them, I remember, was shaped like a spire, and seemed to look with derision on the foaming waters that sometimes nearly covered it, and at others left it standing ill all its majesty on the white, hard sand.

"Surely," I thought, "God has been lavish of His grandeur here," and even as this came into my mind the relentlessness and the cruelty of the sea impressed me. Everything made me feel my littleness, my impotence. A strong man would be but as a bit of rotten wood if he were thrown into it; those cliffs would beat the life out of him, while the white foam, which looked so soft and inviting, covered that which would smash the sides of a boat as easily as a man snaps a piece of wood across his knee.

A feeling of despair possessed me again, for I was utterly lonely. It is true Eli stood by my side saying loving words and fondling me, while the stranger walked to and fro the cave; but no one felt my grief or understood it. By-and-by, however, my mood began to change; the roaring sea, the gray, leaden sky, the mighty cliffs inspired me, they urged me to action. I must find out the truth about Naomi; ay, I must find her, for, standing there that morning, I could not believe that she was dead.

A few minutes later I had made preparations to leave the cave and go away from the neighbourhood of Bedruthen Steps.

"Where do you go, Jasper Pennington, and what are your plans?" asked the stranger.

"That is a matter which concerns myself," I replied, not very graciously. A moment later, however, I felt I had acted like a cur, for this man had endangered his life to save mine, and but for him I might not have been alive. "Forgive me," I continued; "my mind is much distracted, and I scarcely know what I say."

"Perchance I could help you, if you would trust me," he said.

"I can scarcely trust myself," I replied, "much less a stranger."

"Am I stranger?" he cried, with an hysterical laugh, just as though he were a madman.

"If you are not, who and what are you?" I asked. "What is your name?"

"Name!" he said, wildly. "Esau is my name, my true name."

"Why your true name?"

"Because I have sold my birthright."

"Your birthright! To whom did you sell it?"

"To the devil!" he cried, his eyes glittering. "My birthright was my manhood; it was a clear conscience, it was the power to fearlessly think of the past, and to – " He stopped suddenly, then he went on again: "Perhaps Cain is the truer name, but I know not; call me Esau."

"Yes, he's mad," I said to myself. "I can trust him with nothing – nothing." Still, I humoured him. "You have been very good to me," I said. "Some time, if I live and gain my own, I will repay you."

He came to me again, his eyes still shining brightly, and he looked eagerly into mine, as though, too, he had decided to impart something to me; but a second later an expression of doubt rested on his face. "No," I heard him say; "I must do it myself, and alone, if I can – if I can."

We parted then. I made my way up the side of a sloping place along the cliff, while Eli followed close at my heels. When we reached the grassy headland I looked back, and saw the stranger still standing at the mouth of the cave. I looked around me. Not a house of any sort was to be seen; only a rugged, bleak coastline was visible. I saw, however, that some of the land was cultivated, and so I knew that there must be some farmhouses in the near distance.

After walking for about a quarter of an hour we came to a lane, but it was grass-grown, and was evidently but seldom used. I looked around me and espied a gray church tower. This gladdened my heart, for it was pleasant to think of the House of God situated in a bleak, barren countryside. I was about to make my way toward it when I heard the click of a labourer's pick. I jumped on a fence and saw a man hedging.

"What is the name of that church?" I asked.

"St. Eval, sur."

I looked at the man more closely. He looked far more intelligent than the ordinary labourer. "Do you know much about this neighbourhood?" I asked.

"I've lived 'ere oal my life, sur."

"Do you know of any convent in this neighbourhood?"

"Convent, convent?" he repeated, questioningly.

"Yes," I replied; "a place that belongs to the Catholics – a place where priests and nuns live."

He looked at me suspiciously, as though he suspected that I had evil motives in asking such a question. "No, sur," he said presently. Then he gave a start, and I turned and saw that Eli had come to my side. "Is he – is he the devil?" he gasped.

"No; only a dwarf."

"You'm sa big and 'ee sa small, it do seem funny," he laughed, nervously.

"What is the nearest town?" I asked.

"St. Columb, sur."

I made up my mind to go to St. Columb, and was asking the man how far it was, when another thought struck me. "There's a parson at St. Eval, I suppose?"

"Aw, iss, sur; hes 'ouse ed'n fur from the church."

"Is he a man that you like?"

"Aw, iss, sur; everybody do like the passon."

I made my way toward St. Eval, and after half an hour's walking found a church and perhaps a dozen houses. I was not long in finding the vicarage, for it was the only house of importance in the neighbourhood.

Parson Thomas received me very kindly. He was a little man, well fed, and apparently on good terms with every one. I don't think he knew much about religion as Mr. John Wesley taught it, but he was kind-hearted and full of merriment. Moreover, if he neglected people's souls, he did not neglect their bodies. He insisted on giving me refreshments, and although he looked very curiously at Eli, he sent him into the kitchen and gave instructions that he must be looked after.

"I am a bachelor," laughed the jolly vicar. "So much the better all around. I've no one to bother me. I've got my dogs and my horses. At St. Ervan there is a pack of hounds, and I've the best hunter within six parishes. I have a service every Sunday afternoon in the church, and so far we have no Methodists. I've some good wine, good home-brewed ale, and plenty of cider. I rear most of the flesh eaten in the house, and am happy – ha, ha! Now, what can I do for you?"

I asked if he knew of any religious house belonging to the Catholics in the neighbourhood.

"There are a few Catholic families," he said.

"Who are they?"

"Well, there was a Catholic family at Trevose House – an old house built on the cliff not far from Trevose Head. At least, Mrs. Penryn was a Catholic, and the girl was brought up a Catholic. A priest from Padstow used to visit the house."

"Do you know anything about them?" I asked.

"Mrs. Penryn is dead; her husband – well, it's a sad story. Poor fellow, he committed suicide well upon twenty years ago. Everything was left to the daughter. She has gone to the West to stay till she's of age, or married, under the guardianship of a Richard Tresidder. I think I heard something about Tresidder's son marrying Naomi, but I'm not sure."

"Did the priest who visited Trevose belong to any religious community? – I mean, is there a convent or nunnery at Padstow?"

"No. Let me see – oh, yes, I remember now; my friend Page, from Mawgan, was telling me about it. Close to Mawgan Church is the Manor House of Lord Arundell. I daresay you will have heard of it – Lanksome. It is a delightful spot. Well, the Arundell family has always remained Catholic, and were terribly bitter against the Reformation. The present Arundells came into possession about thirty-five or forty years ago, and it is quite a home for priests and Catholics generally. Some of the priests, I believe, visited Trevose from there."

"But it is not a convent or nunnery?"

"Oh, no; not that I am aware of. It is simply the headquarters of the Catholics in this district. I have heard it said that some young Catholic girls, religiously inclined, have been taken there as novitiates, but I doubt its truth; not that the place is not admirably suited for such a purpose. It is surrounded by a high wall, over which no one can see, and in one of the walls is a secret chamber in which it is said a priest was concealed for eighteen months in the reign of Elizabeth. At present, however, it is not recognised as a convent."

"But it is a Catholic centre?"

"Oh, bless you, yes; the place is full of Catholic priests, nuns from France, and what not. I should not like to say what is done within those walls. That house is full of secrets, and the people who go to Mawgan Church, which is adjoining it, look upon Lanherne as a home of mystery. The servants are silent, the priests are silent, the very atmosphere seems full of secrets."1

I did not stay long with Parson Thomas after this, although his hospitality seemed to know no bounds. I had heard enough to set me thinking, and I determined to go to Mawgan that very evening. The time was now three in the afternoon, and soon night would be upon us. Still, there would be another hour of daylight, and I started to walk in the direction of Mawgan Forth, while Eli trudged close by my heels.

We had been walking, perhaps, half an hour, when I saw, as I was passing by a farmhouse close to which the road ran, a woman on horseback. Below us we saw the sands of Mawgan Forth, but no house was near save the farmhouse to which I have referred.

"It is some woman riding home from St. Columb Market, I suppose," I said as her horse climbed the hill.

"No," said Eli; "no, Maaster Jasper. 'Tes Tamsin Triscott, Tamsin Fraddam; that's who et es."

"Tamsin!" I cried; "surely no!"

A few seconds later, however, I saw that Eli was right.

"Master Jasper Pennington!" she cried, as she saw me, and the blood mounted violently to her face. "You are free, then?"

This she said in a tone of disappointment almost amounting to anger.