The Wizard of West Penwith: A Tale of the Land's-End

"'Tes a whished sight, soas!"

"Why, what ded 'ee see, cap'n?" cried a dozen voices.

"Why, I seed two men and a boy, so well as I cud make out," replied Captain Trenow.

"Dear lor'!" exclaimed the women; "the crew starved to death, poor souls! That's whisht, sure nuff."

"'Tes whishter to be standen' here like a passle of fools," said Captain Trenow; "they mayn't be all dead, an' I don't think they are. Lev the women run up to church-town for some blankets and sails an' things, and some brandy, an' some of the men go down to bâl for some ropes an' planks, an' a hatchet or two, and a saw; for the hole esn't big enough to hale a man through."

Here was the master mind equal to any emergency; and, so accustomed is the bâl captain to be obeyed by the miners under him at the bâl, that Captain Trenow's commands were obeyed to the letter, such discipline being as necessary in mining operations, where there is so much risk and danger, as in a military army on the field of battle. In an incredibly short time, the men returned with ropes, and planks, and more ladders, accompanied by some of the mine-carpenters, who had not left work in consequence of a breakage at the mine.

"Go up," said Captain Trenow to the carpenters, "and enlarge that hole three or four feet each way." And up they went at once and commenced their work without asking a question; and very soon an opening was made large enough to bring up any thing that might be below.

By this time the women had arrived also, with plenty of blankets and old sails, and brandy, accompanied by many more people from the village. Captain Trenow, with three or four of the strongest men of the party, now went up the ladders which were placed against the side of the vessel, taking shorter ladders with them, which they let down through the opening that the carpenters had made, taking ropes and blankets and sails with them. On descending into the vessel they found two men and a boy – the two men lying at the bottom, apparently dead, or in the last gasp, while the boy was lying on a cask near the hole. He was alive, and still retained the use of his limbs; and it must have been he who had seized poor Dick in that mysterious manner. They were soon got out of their perilous situation; and that infallible remedy – brandy – having been applied to their lips, it was ascertained that they were all alive. The boy revived considerably, but the two men, with all the remedies Captain Trenow's experience applied, only revived sufficiently to exhibit signs of life.

They were speedily conveyed to the "Commercial" Inn, and Mrs. Brown and her fair assistant prepared comfortable beds for them, while Captain Trenow and one or two strong, trusty men remained to watch them during the night. A little food was given them frequently; for Captain Trenow saw that they were suffering principally from exhaustion and want of food.

The boy did not require much attention; and, after a moderate allowance of food, he fell fast asleep. Mrs. Brown's household also went to bed, at Captain Trenow's earnest request, while he and one of the miners remained in attendance on the invalids all night. The boy slept soundly till morning, when he awoke refreshed, but hungry; so he went downstairs in search of something to eat. Mr. Brown was the only one stirring, and he was in the back kitchen giving a finishing polish to his shoes.

"What! Billy, boy!" said he, as the boy entered; "come, 'tes time to look to the mare. Come, boy! come!" And he led the way into the stables, as he used to do, and the boy followed him; for he knew that was the only way to get anything to eat. "Mare first and breakfast afterwards," was always Mr. Brown's motto.

The sad reality very soon exhibited itself to poor Mr. Brown's shattered brain; and he sat down on the pail which was standing useless against the wall with its bottom up, and bewailed his loss.

"Iss, boy," said the poor man; "I seed them both go over cliff, – and that poor young gentleman to be killed too. 'Twas whist, Billy, boy. Semmen to me I can see them now tumblen' over. I've seed his ghost since, boy, I have."

When Mr. Brown had exhausted himself with his monotonous lamentation, on the loss of the mare and the young gentleman, the boy went up close to him, and whispered something in his ear which made him start; and, jumping up, he proceeded into the house at once, exclaiming, "Peggy! Peg! Peg! Peggy! my dear, – here's that gentleman; get breakfast quickly. What! Miss Reeney downstairs already! Good morning, ma'am. Come to see "The Maister," I s'pose. Get breakfast quickly, Peggy! Ods my life! how hungered they'll be! Out exercising the mare, es he? That's brave. Get the corn ready and a clean wisp o' straw to give her the first rub weth. Ods my life! how glad I am."

"Hoity! toity! what's all the fuss?" exclaimed Mrs. Brown, as she came slowly downstairs; "one wud think that the French were landed."

"And so they are, I b'lieve, o' my conscience," said Mr. Brown.

"Hold your tongue, John Brown!" said his wife, angrily, as she proceeded to get the breakfast. She had not seen Alrina or the boy; for the latter made a signal to Alrina to follow him out into the little garden at the back of the house, while Mr. Brown was giving his silly and futile orders about the mare, which his wife was now too much accustomed to, to notice.

Imagine Alrina's astonishment, when she heard from the boy, that her father and lover were both in that house. What should she do? – That was the first question she asked herself; and it was as quickly answered in her own mind. She must do her duty; and her first duty was to attend to her father, however disgraceful his conduct might have been. And, under the circumstance, it was her duty also to avoid meeting her lover, both for her own peace of mind and for his; – for she had fully determined that nothing should induce her to continue an engagement, which must bring disgrace on him and misery to her; – she could never endure to marry a man whose family would despise her. She learnt the whole history of his escape from the boy, and she shuddered when he told her of the dreadful moment, when the boat bumped against the rock, as they thought, but which in reality was a vessel they could not see, as they lay in the bottom of the boat, faint and exhausted. They were picked up and taken on board, but his master was so exhausted that he was unconscious all the time. The boy soon discovered, he said, that the principal person on board was no other than his old master, Mr. Freeman, who treated them both very kindly; but a storm arose that night, and drove the little vessel back again towards the Land's-End. He and Mr. Freeman were below, he said, attending to the invalid, when the vessel struck on a rock, and her mast was blown over somehow, and they felt the vessel turn on her beam ends. The hatches had been closed down over them when they went below, for the sea was washing over the deck. The two sailors must have been washed overboard. How long they were in that awful state, beating about, the boy did not know; it seemed an age. He was the strongest of the party, he said; and, when he found that the vessel was at last stationary, he got on a cask to be as near the hole which the rocks had made in her as possible, and it was in this position that he caught the man's hand; but he was too much exhausted to speak.

Alrina consulted her good friend, Mrs. Brown, as to what she should do with her father; and it was ultimately decided that he had better be removed at once to his own house.

Who the other invalid was, Alrina did not say. Mr. Freeman seemed in a very precarious state; and if he was to be removed at all, Captain Trenow thought it should be done at once. It was early, and few people were stirring as yet in the village; and so the poor unconscious man was removed gently and quietly to that house which he had left but a short time before, knowing and feeling that his return to that place must end in public disgrace and punishment. His faithful daughter, as in duty bound, made everything as comfortable about him as she could, and her attendant, Alice Ann, came back at once to her young mistress's assistance.

In undressing him to put him into bed, Captain Trenow discovered a belt round his waist, which, on being opened, was found to contain a considerable sum of money, principally in gold, and a quantity of diamonds and other jewels apparently of great value. The money Captain Trenow persuaded Alrina to take into her possession, and to use as much as was necessary for the maintenance of the house and for comforts for the invalid, while the jewels he placed in a drawer in Mr. Freeman's private room, under lock and key. It was evident that he had been preparing for flight for some time, and had secured enough of "the needful" to enable him to live comfortably in some distant country. Of his daughter's comfort he cared nothing; for he did not leave a single shilling behind for her, and yet she forgave him all, and came back again to the house she thought she had quitted for ever, to be his guardian and ministering angel.

A surgeon was sent for from Penzance, who said it was doubtful whether his patient would recover. By care, and attention, and good nursing, he might rally.

Frederick Morley – for he was Captain Trenow's other patient – was recovering slowly, when he learned that Mr. Freeman had been taken home, and that his daughter was there also. He immediately got up, weak as he was, and walked towards Mr. Freeman's house, determined to see Alrina, whose image had been ever present to his mind, night and day, and from whom he was now fully determined no power on earth should separate him. When he arrived at the house he was told that Alrina was in attendance on her father, who was not able to leave his bed.

He waited some time in the little parlour before the object of his adoration made her appearance, as she was obliged to school herself into the proper state of mind in which she wished to appear, before she met him to whom she must now say farewell for ever.

She had been expecting this visit, and had been preparing herself for the meeting, and thought, poor girl, that she could be firm; – but now, when the time was actually come, she found that it was more than she could go through. She came at last, pale and trembling, but firm. And when Frederick rushed towards her with the impetuosity of a warm-hearted lover, from whom his darling had been separated so long, she recoiled calmly and coldly from his embrace, and requested him, in a dignified manner, to be seated.

"Alrina!" exclaimed he, in surprise; "what is the meaning of this coolness? After so long an absence, I expected to have been received by you in a very different manner. What have I done to deserve this? Or has some vile calumniator been poisoning your mind against me? Tell me, dearest!" And he attempted to approach her again, his eyes beaming with the fondest love and devotion.

"Mr. Morley!" said Alrina, restraining her feelings with a strong effort; "circumstances have changed since we last met; and I am compelled, more for your sake than mine, to tell you that all further intercourse must cease between us."

"Alrina!" exclaimed he, passionately; "what can you mean? – Can I believe my ears, – that she, whom I so fondly and devotedly love, can coldly and deliberately tell me that our intercourse must cease, without assigning any reason. Tell me at least this. What cause have I given you for treating me thus?"

"None!" said she; "none! you have been to me more than I deserve. It is not that, oh! no!"

"You have seen another whom you love better," said he. "Tell me, – only tell me, and relieve my racking brain, – anything is better than this suspense. I will never give you up, – I swear I will not! The villain who has supplanted me shall die!" And he paced the room in mental agony, while poor Alrina scarcely knew what to do. She had made up her mind to do her duty; and she was determined, for his sake more than her own, to go through with it. He must not think he had a rival; it would endanger some innocent person, perhaps; nor could she make up her mind to tell him of her father's disgrace. He would hear it, of course, – he must know it; but it should not come from her. What should she do?

There was only one alternative that seemed open to her. She must take all the blame on herself, and bear all his wrath, or scorn, or hate, or whatever it might be, on her own shoulders. However painful, it must be done. And, rising with as much coolness as she could command at that awful crisis, she said, in a trembling voice, —

"Mr. Morley, we must part now and for ever; for I feel I cannot love you as I ought."

"Oh! Alrina!" he exclaimed, taking her hand, which she could not prevent; "do not say so! oh! do not say so, – you cannot mean it, – say you do not mean that. Not love me! Oh! Alrina! after all – "

"I cannot stay longer," said she, hastily withdrawing her hand; "I can only repeat that I cannot love you." And, in an agony of mind, which it would be impossible to describe, she rushed to her own room, and, locking the door, threw herself on the bed, and wept bitter tears of agony unspeakable.

Morley remained motionless for some minutes, as one thunderstruck. It seemed as if he had received his death blow. To be treated thus coldly by one who, but a short time before, had expressed the warmest affection for him, was inexplicable. He could not understand it. There was only one solution that presented itself to his disordered mind. She loved another! And that thought rendered him desperate, – it maddened him.

Revenge was his first thought. But how, and on whom? He staggered out of the house like a drunken man, and directed his steps unconsciously towards the sea. Life had become a burden to him within the last short hour. He had nothing now to live for. He looked down into the deep blue sea, as he stood on the rock. All his former hope of life and happiness had faded away like a shadow. He could have lived on with the hope that she might one day be his, knowing that she loved him still. But, now, she had told him that she could not love him, and had bade him farewell for ever! He could not endure the thought. Her coldness and the apparent cause thrilled through his frame. This feeling of jealousy maddened him; his brain reeled. One plunge into that deep blue water, and all his mental sufferings would be ended. The waters would open to receive him; and when they closed over him again, all the cares and troubles of this life would be over, and she would be free from the dread of his presence, if indeed she feared it.

His brain was on fire; he was mad; a temporary insanity had seized him; and he thought only of escaping from present troubles. One short plunge, and all would be over. Alas! he thought not of the future. What mortal, when in that state of frenzied madness, does think of that?

For if, he did, – if, in the act of making his quietus by self destruction, one sane thought remained, – "that dread of something after death – the undiscovered country from whose bourne no traveller returns – would puzzle the will; and make him rather bear the ills he has, than fly to others that he knows not of." Man's life is not in his own hands. He who gave it, and He alone, has the right to take it when it shall please Him so to do. Morley thought not of the future, but only how to escape from "the pangs of despised love," which now oppressed him. And the more he thought of this, the more did his brain seethe and boil, till he could bear it no longer; and, taking a desperate leap from the high rock on which he stood, he plunged into the deep blue water that lay so tranquil at his feet.

A splash was heard as the waters opened to receive their prey; and then they closed around and over him, and down he went, – down! down! – five fathoms deep, or more, for the water here was deep enough to swim a three-decked ship with all her thousand men on board, and guns and ammunition. 'Twas an awful plunge, not like the plunge of the agile swimmer, who jumps from off a rock and dives until he touches the bottom, only to rebound and then come up again some few yards ahead, and strike out boldly with head erect, braving the restless sea, and riding over each wave buoyant and graceful as a sea-bird, whose element it is. The plunge of the victim of self destruction has a sadder and more decided sound. Down he goes to the bottom, a dead weight, with all his sins upon his head; for in that short space of time, all the actions of his past life crowd on his mind, and he lives his life over again, as it were, in a single moment.

And so went down the body of Frederick Morley to the bottom. But as his body touched it, up it came again buoyant in that unruffled sea. Ere it rose to the surface of the water, another splash was heard, and a stout strong swimmer came breasting the waves, ready to catch the rash young man as soon as he appeared; and, seizing him in one of his strong arms, he swam with him to the shore and landed him in safety.

Frederick had not been under water long enough to receive any serious injury, although the salt water in his mouth and eyes and ears, made him feel very uncomfortable. And this might have a very serious effect, after his late sufferings and confinement; for he had risen from his bed to go to Alrina, on learning that she was at home, when he ought to have remained quiet for a little longer, in order to be fully equal to the double shock he had sustained. Perhaps had he been in robust health, he would not have taken this rash step; but his nerves were weak. The plunge into the water, however, had tended to cool his fevered brain; and, when he turned to thank his deliverer, after he had recovered a little, what was his surprise to find that he was indebted again for his life to that noble fellow, Josiah Trenow, who had thus saved him a second time from the jaws of death.

CHAPTER XXXVI.

THE BROKEN REED

Mr. Morley and Josiah had left Ashley Hall before the family could get ready for the journey, and had travelled with speed and arrived at Lieutenant Fowler's station on the morning of Frederick Morley's visit to Alrina; and as Josiah had been hurried away without seeing Alice Ann, he was anxious to know what had become of her; so, under pretence of going to see his mother, he hastened to St. Just at once, and made direct for Mr. Freeman's house, little thinking of the changes that had taken place there during his short absence. He learned from Alice Ann all that she knew of the history of the past few weeks, and she ended by telling him that Mr. Frederick Morley had been there that morning, and that something had happened between him and Miss Reeney, for that she was locked in her room sobbing and crying her eyes out a'most, and Mr. Frederick was gone down towards the sea, raving like a mad bull.

Josiah thought there must be something very much amiss, but what it was he could not imagine. However he deemed it prudent to follow his young master; and it was lucky he did so, for he reached the spot barely in time to see him throw himself from the rock into the sea. Josiah was an expert swimmer so he did not hesitate a moment, but throwing off his coat and hat, he plunged in after the demented youth, and saved him, as we have seen. Now that he was cool and collected once more, Morley seemed quite ashamed of the act he had attempted, and shuddered at what might have been his fate, had he not been thus fortunately rescued; nor would he satisfy his faithful follower as to whether it was accident or not. After sitting in the sun to dry themselves a little, they walked back to the inn, where they found Lieutenant Fowler and Mr. Morley waiting their return. Fowler had not heard, until the night before, of Frederick's miraculous escape from his imprisonment at Cooper's, and his preservation in the vessel which had borne away Mr. Freeman from the hands of justice; – and they came on to see Frederick, whom they expected to find in bed, and to learn the truth about the return of Mr. Freeman; for Fowler had heard only a rumour of that as yet, – the gossips being still afraid to speak out openly about him, lest evil should come upon them.

Josiah had heard every particular from Alice Ann; and Mr. Morley, being determined that he should not elude them this time, desired Josiah to watch the house lest any one should escape, while he and Fowler proceeded to Pendrea, for the assistance of the squire, whose warrant as a magistrate would be necessary for the apprehension of the guilty party. Josiah recommended Frederick to go to bed at once, for he feared serious consequences would result from his remaining in his wet clothes any longer, and he told the other gentlemen that their friend had slipped off a rock into the water. They sat by his bedside for a little time after he was in bed, and heard his adventures, and then proceeded on their more important business. They refrained from telling Frederick, however, the name of the party they were in search of, fearing the consequences, in his present weak state, and knowing the pain it would cause him, to find that it was Alrina's father whom they accused.

Fowler forgot his own wrongs in his anxiety to serve his friend; and it was not until they were within a short distance of Pendrea-house, that he remembered his position with regard to the squire and his household, and he scrupled to go on.

"Nonsense, my dear fellow," said Mr. Morley; "you are going on a very different errand now. That was pleasure, this is business; besides, we don't know what it may lead to."

Thus persuaded, but certainly not against his inclination, Fowler went on without again alluding to the subject, well knowing the old adage that "faint heart never won fair lady."

The squire was at home, and received his two visitors with politeness if not with cordiality; for his wife had got a crotchet into her head about Mr. Morley and her eldest daughter, which had been told her by one of the servants, and she had told it to the squire; and, putting this against that, as he expressed it, he thought he saw clearly that Mr. Morley had been trifling with his eldest daughter's affections, as Fowler had been doing with her sister; and so he came to the conclusion, without the aid of the conjuror, that the conduct of these two men had caused the sudden and alarming change which they had observed in the health and spirits of their two daughters, and which had baffled the skill of all the doctors. Had Mr. Morley and Lieutenant Fowler, therefore, called in the ordinary way, and claimed his friendship, they would not probably have been admitted; but they now came on business in which the squire was himself much interested; so he filled up a warrant and agreed to accompany them to see the end of it. They could take a constable from the village, as they passed, he said.

The old squire did not forget his hospitality, in his pique at the treatment he believed his daughters had received at the hands of these two gentlemen. They were both gentlemanly men, and they were now engaged in one common cause with himself, the punishment of a man whom the squire had suspected and watched for some time, and who, they now discovered, was a villain of the deepest dye. Mr. Morley had suspicions even beyond what, at present, he thought it prudent to communicate to the other two gentlemen. The squire unbent and came down from his stilts, before they had conversed five minutes, and ordered lunch, which he might in those days have termed dinner; after which the three gentlemen started on their expedition. And so eager and anxious were they in concocting their plans for the capture of the man who had so cunningly eluded them before, that, if the ladies were not forgotten by some of the party, they were certainly not alluded to. Perhaps this was avoided from policy by the two visitors; – the stilts might have been had recourse to again, if that subject had been revived just then in the mind of the crusty old squire.

The ladies knew that the two gentlemen were in the house, and expected to be summoned into the drawing-room, but they were disappointed. The three gentlemen lunched alone, and then started on their expedition. An experienced constable was procured at the next village, and on they went, a formidable party, determined not to be outwitted again by that cunning man. They found the trusty Josiah watching closely when they arrived near the house; no one had gone in or come out, he said, since he had been there. He had not even seen Alice Ann come out, and he would not venture too near the house for fear of causing suspicion. They knew the depth and cunning of the man so well, that it was necessary to use every precaution. He might feign extreme illness in order to put them off their guard, and might again escape. So it was arranged that Lieutenant Fowler and Josiah should watch the outside of the house, while the other two went in, accompanied by the constable, who was well up to his work, having been sent down from a larger place some years ago, and recommended to the office by a gentleman high in authority.