The Adventures of Dick Trevanion: A Story of Eighteen Hundred and FourStrang, Herbert
History
The Adventures of Dick Trevanion: A Story of Eighteen Hundred and Four
Strang, Herbert
Boys -- Juvenile fiction; Great Britain -- History -- 19th century -- Juvenile fiction; Smugglers -- Juvenile fiction
Seals were not often seen on the coast; indeed, Dick had only once
before heard of their appearance, so that the proposed expedition had
all the charm of novelty. While waiting for Sam, he went to the
kitchen, where Reuben Pollex was washing the dishes, and asked him if he
could tell him how to tackle a seal.
"That’s more than I can do, Maister Dick," said the old man. "I never
caught nawthin’ but fish and rabbits, and maybe a stoat now and again;
never seed a seal in my life."
"They’re valuable, Reuben," said Dick. "The skins are worth a good
deal. They are made into coats and tippets and such things for ladies,
you know."
"The mistress wants a new coat, so ’twould come handy, and I wish ’ee
luck. I’ve heerd tell that the critters sometimes hide in the cave
yonder, though as no man, ’s far ’s I know, ever did see ’em there, it
may be only guesswork."
The cave mentioned was at the head of St. Cuby’s Cove. Its entrance was
exposed only at low tide, and Dick had more than once visited it at such
times, exploring its recesses by the light of a torch or one of the
house lanterns. He had never made any interesting discovery there, and
had for some years ceased to visit it.
"Didn’t you tell me once that there is an entrance to the cave from the
land side, Reuben?" he asked.
"Ay, folks used to say so when I was a boy, but I don’t know as there be
any truth in it. Once upon a time, long afore my day, there was a mine
thereabouts, and maybe one of the adits ran down to the cave; but ’tis
sixty year or more since the mine give out—in yer grandfer’s time—and
not a soul have been down in the workings ever since, ’s far ’s I know."
Here Sam appeared and announced that he was ready. The two lads,
provided with a gun, a cutlass, a lantern, and a few candle-ends,
proceeded to the spot on the beach of Trevanion Bay where their boat was
moored, launched her, and rowed round the promontory to St. Cuby’s Cove.
The tide was running out, and as the interval during which the cave was
free from water was very short, Dick and his companion worked the boat
through the entrance with their hands as soon as there was room for them
to pass between the roof and the surface of the sea.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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