The Birthright

HOW I WAS ROBBED OF ELMWATER BARTON; HOW I FLOGGED THE TRESIDDERS, AND WAS PILLORIED BECAUSE OF IT

A month after the event I have just related I was walking down toward the sea, for my wound, which was but slight, had healed up, when, passing by Betsey Fraddam's cottage, I saw the old woman sitting by the door mending a garment.

"'Ere, Maaster Jasper, I want 'ee," said Betsey.

So I went toward her, not caring to offend her. Now I am not a superstitious man, neither did I ever believe in some of the stories told about Betsey. At the same time, I knew better than to offend her. Even Parson Grigg was civil to her, and admitted that she had powers which could not be trifled with. It is also a fact that she had cured some of my cattle which had been stung by adders, by charming them, while, on the other hand, my father believed that she had, at Richard Tresidder's bidding, ill-wished his cows. She had on several occasions cured terrible diseases which the doctor from Falmouth said were incurable, and I have heard it said that when Mr. John Wesley visited Cornwall, and was told about her, the great man looked very grave, and expressed a belief in her power. This being so, it is no wonder I did not like to offend her; neither had I any reason for doing so. She had been kind to me, and once, when I had scarlet fever, gave me some stuff that cured me even when Dr. Martin said I should be dead in a few hours. Besides, according to my father's promise, I had been friendly with Eli, her son. Now, Eli was several years older than I, but he never grew to be more than about four feet high, and was the most ill-formed creature I have ever seen. He had bow legs, a hump back, and was what was called "double-chested." His thick black hair grew down close to his eyes, which eyes, in addition to being very wild and strange-looking, were wrongly set, so that no one could tell which way he was looking. He was rather sickly-looking, too, and was thought to be very weak. But this I know to be wrong. Eli, ill-formed as he was, was much stronger than most men, nature having endowed his sinews with wondrous hardness and powers of endurance. Eli did no work, but lived by poaching and begging food at the farmhouses. As Betsey's son he was never refused, especially as some believed he had inherited his mother's powers.

Well I entered the cottage and sat on a wooden stool while Eli sat in a corner of the open fireplace and looked at me steadfastly with one eye, and with the other saw what was going on out in the road.

"Well," said Betsey, "and so you found out what Nick Tresidder wanted to do, then? An' I 'ear as 'ow you've nearly killed 'im."

"How do you know?" I asked.

"How do I knaw? How do I knaw everything? But you'll be paid out, Maaster Jasper! Tell y' Dick Tresidder 'll pay 'ee out. I c'n zee et comin'."

"See what coming?" I asked.

"Look 'ee, Maaster Jasper; 'ave 'ee bin to zee yer Granfer Quethiock lately?"

"No."

"Then you be a vool, Jasper – tell y' you be a vool. Wy, 'ee's nearly dead; he may be dead by now. What 'bout the Barton, Jasper? 'Ave 'a willed et to 'ee?"

At this my heart became heavy. Up to now no rent had been charged, and I hoped that my grandfather would make it over to me. My uncles, I knew, did not like me.

"Old Mester Quethiock es dead, es dead, es dead," said Eli, in his funny, grunting kind of voice.

"How do 'ee knaw, Eli?" asked his mother.

"I knaw, I knaw," grunted Eli, and then he laughed in his funny way, but he would tell nothing more.

"What ought I to do?" I asked, for I felt a great fear come into my heart, although my father had told me that my Grandfather Quethiock meant to give me the Barton.

"Go and zee, go and zee," said Betsey.

So I went back home and saddled my mare and rode to Falmouth. When I got into Falmouth town I saw an ironmonger whom I knew, and he looked as though he would speak, so I stopped my horse.

"Well, and so yer poor gran'father is gone," he said.

"Is he?" I replied; "I did not know till now."

"Iss, he's gone, and a good man he wos, too. His two sons, yer uncles, 'ave been waitin' a long time to git into his shoes. Ah, there'll be a change now! Th' ould man was the soul of generosity; but the sons, Peter and Paul, nobody'll be able to rob one to pay the other of they two. But I 'ear as 'ow you'm safe, Maaster Jasper. The Barton es yours, I'm told."

This cheered me, so I rode on toward my grandfather's house. Just before I got there I saw my two uncles coming down the street, and with them was Richard Tresidder. I checked my horse and watched them, and saw that they entered a lawyer's office, and the lawyer who owned it was the son of the man who was present when Lawyer Trefry drew up my grandfather's will.

I got to know nothing by going to my grandfather's house, save to find out the day of the funeral, which was fixed for three days later, and which I attended. After the funeral was over the will was read, and the lawyer who read it was Nicholas Tresidder, a bachelor after whom young Nick was called.

Now, I do not pretend to be a learned man, but I do love honesty, and I do say that the will was drawn up to defraud me. Neither do I believe that my grandfather ever intended the words written down, to read as the lawyer said they read, for he had told my father that Elmwater Barton was to be left to me. According to Lawyer Tresidder, however, the whole of my grandfather's property was left to his two sons, Peter and Paul Quethiock, and it was left to their generosity as to whether I, his grandson, Jasper Pennington, should remain at the Barton free of all rent, and whether the land should be eventually mine. Thus, according to the lawyer's explanation, it was left to my uncles' generosity and judgment as to whether my grandfather's desire should be carried out. I desired that this part of the will should be read again, but so many words were used that I had difficulty in making head or tail of it. All the time I noticed that my uncles looked very uneasy.

Now, I know that my grandfather was very fond of me, and in spite of the fact that I had been robbed of my rightful heritage, he was proud that he had a Pennington for a grandson. Thus I am sure that it was his will that I should have the Barton for my own. But during the last few years he had been very feeble and infirm, and thus in the hands of a clever lawyer he could easily be deceived as to what was legal.

I will not attempt to give a lengthy account of what followed. Indeed, I have not a very distinct remembrance. I was not long in seeing what was in the minds of my two uncles, and I quickly realised that they had been in league with the Tresidders; and so, feeling that it was their intention to defraud me, I became dazed and bewildered. I have a confused recollection of asking some questions, and of the replies given, and after hearing them I left the house, with the consciousness that I was not the owner of Elmwater Barton, but a tenant liable to be dismissed by my uncles, both of whom were, I was sure, tools of Richard Tresidder.

Still, I determined not to give up without a struggle, so I rode to Truro that same day and saw Lawyer Trefry, the son of the old lawyer who drew up my grandfather's will. He listened to my story very attentively, and when I had finished declared that Nicholas Tresidder was a clever fellow.

"I think it is possible you may have a case though, Jasper," he said; "I think you may have a case. I will see to it at once. I will examine the will, and if there is a chance you may depend that I will seize on it. But remember this: Nicholas Tresidder is a clever fellow, and when he sets his mind on a thing it's a difficult thing to find him napping."

That night I went back to the Barton with a sad heart, speaking not a word to any one. I longed to ease my pain by denouncing the people who sought to work my ruin, but in spite of William Dawe's anxious solicitations I held my peace. It is true Lawyer Trefry gave me some little hope, but I did not sleep that night, and for the next few days I wandered around the farm like one demented. Presently I saw Lawyer Trefry again, and I knew directly I caught the look on his face that my case was hopeless.

"Nicholas Tresidder is a smart fellow," he said, with a grunt, "a very smart fellow. There is no doubt but that your grandfather meant you to have the Barton – not the slightest doubt; but then, you see, it is not legally yours. Let us hope that your uncles will abide by your grandfather's evident desire and make it yours."

But I had no hope of that, and I shook my head sadly. "As well expect water from a stone," I said. "For a long time I have wondered why Richard Tresidder should be so friendly with Peter and Paul Quethiock; now I know. He has been for years trying to ruin me, and now he has accomplished it."

"How old are you?" asked Lawyer Trefry, suddenly, as though a new thought had struck him.

"Twenty next month," I replied.

"Bah! why did not old Quethiock live a month longer?" grunted the lawyer.

"Why, what would have been the use?" I asked.

"Use? Why, if you could prove that you had held the land for twenty years, you could lawfully claim it as yours."

And thus everything was against me, and although we talked over a dozen things together, no ray of light came to cheer the darkness.

The next thing that happened was the event of a letter which I got from Nicholas Tresidder, the Falmouth lawyer. This letter was to the effect that as I was neither a lawful tenant of Elmwater Barton, nor the owner thereof, I must immediately vacate the place, as Paul Quethiock intended to take possession thereof immediately. I had expected this, and had been for days trying to value the stock on the place. As I have before stated, I was barely twenty years of age, and although my father had appointed as my guardians two neighbouring farmers, they took but little interest in my affairs – indeed, I do not think they understood what their duties were. Anyhow, they took no steps to help me, neither did they interfere with me in any way.

On the receipt of this letter, which was brought from Falmouth by messenger, I saddled my mare, and immediately rode to see Lawyer Trefry.

He read the letter very carefully, and then asked me if I had received nothing else.

"Nothing," I replied; "what is there else to receive? They have taken away the farm, they have ordered me to leave it; now I am come to you to arrange with James Trethewy and John Bassett about selling the stock. I suppose the crops will have to be valued, too, and a lot of other matters before I can realise on my property."

He looked very grave, but said nothing for some time.

"I will do what I can at once," he grunted, at length; "but believe me, Jasper, my boy, Nicholas Tresidder is a clever dog – a very clever dog. He's been set to work on this bone, and he'll leave nothing on it – mark my words, he'll leave nothing on it."

"He has left nothing," I replied; "I doubt if the stock will fetch very little more than the £500 my father spent when he took Elmwater Barton from my Grandfather Quethiock."

Lawyer Trefry shook his head and grunted again; but he made no remark, and so I left, thinking that I knew the worst. I imagined that when the stock was sold I should be worth several hundred pounds, and with this as a nucleus, I should have something to give me a fair start.

And so the day of the sale of the stock on the Barton was fixed, but before that day came another letter was brought by a messenger of Lawyer Nicholas Tresidder from Falmouth. This letter stated that as no rent had been paid since the death of Margaret Pennington, the heirs of the late Peter Quethiock claimed six years' rent, as they were entitled to do by the law of the land.

I knew now what Lawyer Trefry meant when he said that Lawyer Tresidder would pick the bone clean. He had seen this coming, while I, young and ignorant of the law, had never dreamed of it. Old Betsey Fraddam had said that Richard Tresidder would pay me out, and he had done so now. Six years' rent would swallow up the value of the stock, and would take every penny I possessed. Thus at twenty I, who, but for the fraud and deceit of the Tresidders, would be the owner of Pennington, would be absolutely homeless and penniless. Then for the first time a great feeling of hate came into my heart, and then, too, I swore that I would be revenged for the injury that was done to me.

Again I went to Lawyer Trefry, and again he grunted.

"I expected this," he said; "I knew it would come. Nick Tresidder is a clever dog; I was sure he would pick the bone clean."