CHAPTER IV

EBB-TIDE CAVE

If I hadn't been so eager I should have paused long before I did to reflect that I should be most unlikely to find my father at the inn if Dirk and his fellows were in the neighbourhood. For, as I have told you, my father always vanished on these occasions. As it was, the thought came to me like the sudden arrest of a lasso, drawing me up short almost with a wrench. I stopped, and with the consideration that possibly my father didn't know of their presence, as Dirk's apparition had been a complete surprise to me, I trotted on again a few yards. But I soon came to another halt, this time because it seemed to me somewhat ill-judged to rush home and demand an immediate combat. The unusualness of the thing would make my father suspect some trick, and might put him on his guard. So I turned about, deciding to possess my soul in patience till the evening, when our battle would take place as usual, and then I would have the chance of displaying my newly learnt skill, and perhaps win the wished-for reward.

Now I think at this time I had three ambitions. The winning of the knife was one, perhaps the chief one. Next to that I wanted to find some quite new hiding-place where even my father wouldn't be able to find me. That he had hiding-places out of my knowledge I was only too sadly aware, but so far, as well as I knew the coast and the countryside, I hadn't succeeded in baffling his pursuit. My third great ambition was to find some underground communication between the shore and the woodland. I assumed that such a communication existed, and I explored all the caves and inlets for miles along the coast, but so far without success. There were long caverns eating far into the cliffs, some slippery with sea-weed, some above the line of the high tides where the going was fairly easy; but none gave me the passage I was seeking.

There were several caves that I particularly suspected of concealing the desired secret. There was one which I named the Dragon's Mouth; for, following my father's lead, I gave my own names to all the landmarks of the place, not being satisfied as a rule with the rather unimaginative names which custom had christened them with. This cave I named the Dragon's Mouth because blocking the opening was one huge rock like the tongue of some colossal monster thrust out through its jaws. I believed that if only the creature would draw in its tongue I should find the passage of my desires. Then there was Ebb-Tide Cave opening into Ebb-Tide Pool. I believe this name was of my father's giving. At high tide the pool, which was well hidden with a wall of rock, and invisible from the top of the cliff, which dropped steeply to a level platform and swelled out into a huge overbrowing arch of granite, was open to the sea through a twisting channel where a fair-sized boat might pass, I thought; and many were the dreams I fancied to myself of the coming and going of secret ships. But at low water the channel was closed, and so in stormy weather Ebb-Tide Pool was an ideal bathing-place. At high tide the cave was also in deep water, but dry, or nearly so, at low tide. But the baffling puzzle of the cave was that it stopped abruptly after some twenty yards, blankly walled with two great flattish rocks which looked for all the world like the two halves of a huge gate. And many a day I spent searching for the secret of their opening, but never with any hint of success.

There were other inlets too that I tested and examined. Particularly the few short tunnels that gave on to a sandy bay to the east of Ebb-Tide Pool. It was here that the fishermen launched their smacks, and a hut or two clung crazily to nooks in the sloping cliffs. At the farther horn of the bay was a dilapidated jetty, built originally of stone, but roughly repaired where the seas had breached it with makeshift piles and planking, themselves unsteady and decayed. It was only seldom that the fishermen used it; but I delighted in picturing to myself wild scenes of its desperate history when the smugglers were still a power on that coast. However, I discovered nothing in the bay. I searched east and west; and though at times I thought I had come upon a further clue, yet it never led to anything. And again and again I returned to the Dragon's Mouth and Ebb-Tide Cave, which seemed to me the most dumbly obstinate in refusing to yield their secrets.

This day, having nothing better to do, I set off for Ebb-Tide Pool for a clamber and a bathe till it should be time to return to the inn. I didn't go by the directest route, for, true to my father's training, I made a business of my play just as he made a game of all my education. Indeed work and play were one thing to me. For if we decided to climb Dead-Man's Drop or cross the Suck-Foot Marshes the expedition was always undertaken with some imaginary purpose in view. There was a message to be delivered, or a sentry to be surprised; and usually we were ranged against each other, one being set to hinder the other, and the fun of the game wasn't merely in the climbing, or whatever it might be, but in evading the hidden enemy. So when left to myself I always devised some fanciful story to give a colour to my play. The result was that I scarcely ever made a direct journey, but always skirted this and rounded that to make believe I was outwitting my foes.

On this day I didn't wander very far from the path, but my route was somewhat roundabout. And on a sudden I came to an abrupt halt, listening intently; for once already I had been taken unawares, and I wasn't intending to be caught again. I had heard a crackling in the woods. I was distinctly alarmed to see Dirk Stormaway stepping at right angles across my path, for I knew if he should see me he would believe I had been tracking him. Accordingly I squeezed up against a tree and waited for him to go by. He passed behind a thick clump of thorn, but didn't reappear. I listened for his step, and watched for him; but there was no sign of him anywhere. I was just going to move on, when again there was the sound of steps, and once more I grew on to my protecting tree. I was amazed to see my father following stealthily on the trail of Dirk. And he too vanished.

Then it occurred to me that it was round here that my father always managed to baffle my search whenever he hid from me. I had tracked his lair to within a hundred yards or so, but never to its exact goal. However, I thought this was no time for further investigation. The air was tense with alarm for me, and I felt a pang of doubt on my father's account. If Dirk should catch him following ... I thought he would either break his back like a stick, or put that famous knife trick of his into practice. But I was used to strangeness and mystery, and the idea of hunting and being hunted was familiar to me from as far back as I could remember; so I easily shook off the impression of alarm that had crept over me, and skirting away from the point of danger I was soon stripping for a dive in the pool.

The afternoon was beautiful, with a blazing sun, and I was in and out of the water, practising all my strokes and tricks, for some hours, for evening was drawing on before I dried myself for the last time by jumping up and down in the sun, and pulled on my clothes. The tide had been coming in, and was now almost full. With one last look at the tempting depths, wondering whether I should strip again for a final plunge, I turned and set off up the cliff. Some day, I vowed, I would negotiate that huge frowning brow of rock that overhung the pool, for at present if I wanted to reach the level platform above it--an ideal spot for a boy to sprawl on and send his dreams out over the sea--I had to scramble down from the top of the cliff; and in climbing up from below I had to be content with a longer trail to the left.

I had taken only a few steps when I heard a gruff voice beneath me chanting an old sea-song, and with instinctive caution I ducked behind a boulder as I saw the nose of a boat pushing out from Ebb-Tide Cave. I rubbed my eyes twice to clear my sight, when I saw that in the boat was none other than Dirk himself. But there was no mistaking him. And he knew his way too, for he steered straight for the outlet of the pool, and I watched him pass easily through the choppy waves, guiding himself with his oars, and out through the twisting channel, where rounding a headland of rock he disappeared. I now knew that my suspicion of those closed gates in the cave was justly founded, yet until this moment I didn't realize how little I had credited my own childish theories, for the revelation came to me not as a thing long expected, but with a shock of surprise.

My thought now was to descend again and investigate, but I think I must have been getting frightened and unnerved by the adventures of the day, for somehow the idea of returning to the cave and finding the gates closed against me, though knowing full well that Dirk had just passed through them, jarred unpleasantly on my imagination. And suppose they were not closed? Suppose they were open? I should be confronted by the dead blackness of the unknown beyond. I shuddered, and turned away, wondering at my ebbing courage, for it wasn't usual for me to turn heart-sick at the prospect of adventure. But I was still a child, and I was probably tired, and had certainly had my fill of surprises for one day.

Not till I was nearly at the top of the cliff did I remember my father, who must have been following Dirk. Perhaps if I had descended again I should have met him, and learnt the secret from him. Again I hung irresolute, but I reasoned that by now he would no longer be there. Also I was feeling weary, and told myself that I must be fresh for the combat in the evening if I were to bring off my little manœuvre successfully and win the knife.

My father was already in, doctoring up his scarred hand, when I arrived. As usual he greeted me with, "Found anything to-day, Tommy?" I could have answered volumes to that question, but reserve was part of my training, and I wanted to use my new knowledge before I divulged it; so I only answered, "Had a lovely day," and reaching up put my arms around his neck and kissed him. But in his eyes as I searched them I saw no trace of excitement to show that he had been spending his time otherwise than usual.

Supper was brought to us, and after supper we cleared the room for battle. But I didn't win the knife. To tell the truth I felt rather stupid and asleep, and for the life of me couldn't bring myself to try Dirk's trick. I realized too that it might be easy enough in practice, but in a real fight it would be another matter. A slip would put you at the complete mercy of your antagonist. It was a reserve manœuvre to be kept as a last resort when the choice lay between a desperate risk and a certain defeat.

My father saw that I was tired, and soon cried enough; and then settling down in the waning twilight he put the final touches to his hand, and commencing to yarn bore me away with him on the magical stream of his story over wonderful seas.

The hour of the evening story was always a golden time for me. For my father didn't merely stuff me with thrill. Looking back I can realize now how artistic in conception and narration were those extraordinary yarns of his gleaned from every imaginable type of old sea-dog with whom he had rubbed shoulders, and vivified with all the charm of his abundant imagination. Sometimes he would set me to tell the story, but in his presence I was tongue-tied and stumbling in my speech; but I know that I learnt from him, and not from any pedagogue, whatever understanding and appreciation I have of the splendour of language.

And so with the last of the light to bed; while my father drew a heavy screen around his little reading-table, and lighting his lamp applied himself to the mystery, whatever it might be, which engaged him night by night. All I ever heard was the scratching of his quill, or more usually the turning of pages.

He was still behind the screen when I awoke with the question on my lips, "Are you a poet, daddy?"

I think he was surprised, for he exclaimed quickly, "A poet, Tommy?" and I heard a faint sigh. Then he laughed and said, "You've been dreaming, Tommy. Better go to sleep again."