Lippincott's Magazine of Popular Literature and Science, Vol. 26, August, 1880

Accordingly, as soon as five o'clock had struck, Eve, who had been fidgeting about for some time, got up and said, "Joan, if Jerrem comes in you won't tell where I've gone, will you?"

"Well, seein' I don't knaw the where-abouts of it myself, I should be puzzled," said Joan.

"I'm goin' up Talland lane to meet Adam," faltered Eve; "and as it's to say good-bye, I—we—don't want anybody else, you see."

The tremulous tone of the last few words made Joan turn round, and, looking at Eve, she saw that the gathered tears were ready to fall from her eyes. Joan had felt a desire to be sharp in speech, but the sight of Eve's face melted her anger at once, and with a sudden change of manner she said, "Why, bless the maid! what's there to cry about? You'm a nice one, I just say, to be a sailor's wife! Lor's! don't let 'em see that you frets to see their backs, or they'll be gettin' it into their heads next that they'm somebodys and we can't live without 'em. They'll come back soon enough, and a sight too soon for a good many here, I can tell 'ee."

Eve shook her head. "But will they come back?" she said despairingly. "I feel something different to what I ever felt before—a presentiment of evil, as if something would happen. What could happen to them, Joan?"

"Lord bless 'ee! don't ax un what could happen to 'em. Why, a hunderd things: they could be wracked and drowned, or catched and killed, or tooked and hung." Then, bursting into a laugh at Eve's face of horror, she exclaimed, "Pack o' stuff, nonsense! Don't 'ee take heed o' no fancies nor rubbish o' that sort. They'll come back safe enuf, as they've allays done afore. Nothin's ever happened to 'em yet: what should make it now? T' world ain't a-comin' to an end 'cos you'm come down fra' London town. There, get along with 'ee, do!" and she pushed her gently toward the door, adding, with a sigh, "'Twould be a poor tale if Adam was never to come back now, and it the first time he ever left behind un anything he cared to see agen."

Eve soon reached her point of observation, and under shelter of the hedge she stood looking with anxious eyes in the direction from which Adam was to come. It had been a clear bright day, and the air blew fresh and cool; the sky (except to windward, where a few white fleecy masses lay scattered about) was cloudless; the sea was of a deep-indigo blue, flecked with ridges of foam, which unfurled and spread along each wave, crested its tip and rode triumphant to the shore. Inside the Peak, over the harbor, the gulls were congregated, some fluttering over the water, some riding on its surface, some flying in circles over the heights, now green and soft with the thick fresh grass of spring. Down the spine of the cliff the tangle of brier-wood and brambles, though not leafless, still showed brown, and the long trails which were lifted and bowed down as the sudden gusts of wind swept over them, looked bare and wintry.

Eve gave an involuntary shiver, and her eyes, so quick to drink in each varied aspect of the sea, now seemed to try and shut out its beauty from before her.

What should she do if the wind blew and the waves rose as she had seen them do of late, rejoicing in the sight, with Adam by her side? But with him away, she here alone—oh, her spirit sank within her; and to drive away the thoughts which came crowding into her mind she left her shelter, and, hurrying along the little path, crossed the cress-grown brook, and was soon halfway up the craggy ascent, when Adam, who had reached the top from the other side, called out, "Hallo! I didn't think to find you here. We'd best walk back a bit, or else we shall be just in the eye of the wind, and it's coming on rather fresh."

"You won't go if it blows, Adam?" and Eve's face betrayed her anxiety.

"Oh, my dear one," he said kindly, "you mustn't think of the wind's having anything to do with me. Besides, it's all in our favor, you know: it'll rock us to sleep all the sooner."

Eve tried to smile back as she looked up at him, but it was a very feeble attempt. "I don't want to feel frightened," she said, "but I can't help it."

"Can't help what?"

"Why, thinking that something may happen."

"Oh, nonsense!" he said: "there's nothing going to happen. It's because you care for me you think like that. Why, look at me: ain't I the same? Before this I never felt anything but glad to be off and get away; but this time"—and he drew a long sigh, as if to get rid of the oppression—"I seem to carry about a lump of lead inside me, and the nearer it comes to saying good-bye the heavier it grows."

This sympathy seemed to afford Eve some consolation, and when she spoke again it was to ask in a more cheerful tone how long their probable absence would be, where they were going, what time they would take in getting there; to all of which Adam answered with unnecessary exactness, for both of them felt they were talking, for talking's sake, of things about which they knew all they could know already. Yet how was it possible, in the light of open day, when at any moment they might be joined by a third person, to speak of that which lay deep down in their hearts, waiting only for a word, a caress, a tender look, to give it voice?

Adam had had a dozen cautions, entreaties, injunctions to give to Eve: he had been counting through every minute of the day the time to this hour, and now it had come and he seemed to have nothing to say—could think of nothing except how long he could possibly give to remaining.

"By Jove!" he exclaimed after more than an hour had slipped away—time wasted in irrelevant questions and answers, with long pauses between, when neither could think of anything to say, and each wondered why the other did not speak—"By Jove, Eve! I must be off: I didn't think the time had gone so quick. We mustn't start at the furthest later than eight; and if I ain't there to look after them nobody'll think it worth while to be ready."

They were back under shelter of the hedge again now, and Adam (who possessed the singular quality of not caring to do his lovemaking in public) ventured to put his arm round Eve's waist and draw her toward him. "You'll never let me go again," he said, "without bein' able to leave you my wife, Eve, will you? 'Tis that, I b'lieve, is pressing on me. I wish now more than ever that you hadn't persisted in saying no all this long winter."

"I won't say no next time," she said, while the hitherto restrained tears began to fall thick and fast.

Adam's delight was not spoken in words, and for the time he forgot all about the possibility of being overlooked: "Then, when I come back I sha'n't be kept waiting any longer?"

"No."

"And we shall be married at once?"

"Yes."

Adam strained her again to his heart. "Then, come what may," he said, "I sha'n't fear it. So long as I've got you, Eve, I don't care what happens. It's no good," he said, after another pause. "The time's up, and I must be off. Cheer up, my girl, cheer up! Look up at me, Eve, that's a sweetheart! Now, one kiss more, and after that we must go on to the gate, and then good-bye indeed."

But, the gate reached and the good-bye said, Eve still lingered. "Oh, Adam!" she cried, "stop—wait for one instant."

And Adam, well pleased to be detained, turned toward her once more.

"Good-bye, Adam: God watch over you!"

"Amen, my girl, amen! May He watch over both of us, for before Him we are one now, Eve: we've taken each other, as the book has it, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health."

"Till death do you part," said the sepulchral tones of a voice behind the hedge; and with a laugh at the start he had given them Jerrem passed by the gate and went on his way.

CHAPTER XXIV

Several weeks had now passed by since the bustle of departure was over, and, though no direct intelligence had come from the absentees, a rumor had somehow spread abroad that the expected run of goods was to be one of the largest ever made in Polperro.

The probability of this fact had been known to the leaders of the expedition before they started, and had afforded Adam another opportunity for impressing upon them the great necessity for increased caution.

Grown suspicious at the supineness which generally pervaded the revenue department, the government had decided upon a complete revolution, and during the winter months the entire force of the coast had been everywhere superseded and in many places increased. Both at Looe and Fowey the cutters had new officers and crews, and the men, inflamed with the zeal of newcomers, were most ardent to make a capture and so prove themselves worthy of the post assigned to them.

While all his comrades had affected to laugh at these movements, Adam had viewed them with anxiety—had seen the graveness of their import and the disasters likely to arise from them; and at length his arguments had so far prevailed that a little better regulation was made for the working of signals and ensuring that they should be given and attended to if required. In case of danger the rule was to burn a fire on different heights of the cliff, and small huts were even erected for that purpose; but the lighting of these fires was often delayed until the last moment: what had become everybody's business was nobody's business, and secure that, in any case, the cruisers were no more willing to fight than the smugglers were wanting to be fought, hazards were often incurred which with men whose silence could not be bought (for up to that time every crew had had its go-between) would most certainly have proved fatal.

Upon the present force no influence could as yet be got to bear, and, to prove the temper of their dispositions, no sooner was it known to them that three of the most daring of the Polperro vessels were absent than they set to watching the place with such untiring vigilance that it needed all the sharpness of those left behind to follow their movements and arrange the signals so that they might warn their friends without exciting undue suspicions among their enemies.

Night after night, in one place or another, the sheltered flicker of the flame shone forth as a warning that any attempt to land would prove dangerous, until, word being suddenly brought that the cruiser had gone off to Polruan, out went the fire, and, an answering light showing that at least one of the vessels was on the watch, when the morning dawned the Stamp and Go was in and her cargo safe under water. The Lottery, she said, had contrived to decoy the revenue-men away, hoping that by that means the two smaller vessels might stand a chance of running in, but from their having to part company and keep well away from each other, the Stamp and Go, though certain the Cleopatra was not far off, had lost sight of her.

The day passed away, the evening light had all but faded, when to the watchers the Cleopatra, with crowded sail and aided by a south-west wind, was seen trying to make the harbor, close followed by the cruiser. The news flew over the place like lightning, and but a few minutes seemed to have passed before all Polperro swarmed the cliffs, each trying to secure a vantage-point by putting forth some strong claim of interest in those on board. With trembling hearts and anxious gaze the lookers-on watched each movement of the two vessels, a dead silence prevailing among them so long as they both followed in the same course, but the instant a clever tack was made by which the pursuers were baffled, up rose the shout of many voices, and cries were heard and prayers uttered that the darkness would come quickly on and afford their friends a safe entrance.

Except to such men as steered the Cleopatra, to enter Polperro harbor amid darkness and wind was a task beyond their skill; and, knowing this, and seeing by her adversary's tactics the near possibility of defeat, the cruiser had resort to her guns, trying to cut away the Cleopatra's gear, and by that means compel her to heave-to. But, though partly disabled, the stout little vessel bore onward, and night's friendly clouds coming to her aid, the discomfited cruiser had to withdraw within hearing of the triumphant shouts which welcomed her rival's safety.

With the exception of the Lottery all was now safe, but no fears were entertained on her account, because, from her superior size and her well-known fast-sailing qualities, the risks which had endangered the other two vessels would in no way affect her. She had merely to cruise outside and await, with all the patience her crew could command, a fitting opportunity for slipping in, escaping the revenue-men and turning on them a fresh downpour of taunts and ridicule.

In proof of this, several of the neighboring fishing-boats had from time to time seen and spoken to the Lottery; and with a view to render those at home perfectly at ease every now and again one of these trusty messengers would arrive with a few words which would be speedily circulated among those most interested. The fact of her absence, and the knowledge that at any time the attempt to land might be made, naturally kept every one on the strain; and directly night set in both Joan and Eve trembled at each movement and started at every sound.

One night, as, in case of surprise, they were setting all things in order, a sudden shuffling made Joan fly to the door. "Why, Jonathan," she exclaimed, admitting the man whom Eve had never seen since the evening after her arrival, "what's up? What brings you here, eh?"

"I've comed with summat for you," he said, casting a suspicious look at Eve.

"Well, out with it, then," said Joan, quickly adding, as she jerked her head in that direction, "us don't have no secrets from she."

"Awh, doant 'ee?" returned Jonathan in a voice which sounded the reverse of complimentary. "Wa-all, then, there's what 'tis;" and he held toward her a piece of paper folded up like a letter.

"Who's it from? where did 'ee get un?" asked Joan, while Eve exclaimed, "Oh, Joan, see is it from them?"

"I can't stay no longer," said Jonathan, preparing to retreat.

"But you must stay till we've made out what this here is," said Joan.

Jonathan shook his head. "'Tain't nothin' to do with what I'm about," he answered, determined not to be detained, "and I've got to run all the faster 'cos I've comed round this way to bring it. But Jerrem gived it to me," he whispered, "and Adam ain't to be tould nothin' of it;" and he added a few more words which made Joan release her hold of him and seem as anxious to see him gone as he was to go.

The first part of the whisper had reached Eve's ears, and the hope which had leaped into her heart had been forced back by the disappointment that Jerrem, not Adam, had sent the letter. Still, it might contain some news of their return, and she turned to Joan with a look of impatient inquiry.