Fields of Fair Renown

Front matter

FIELDS OF FAIR RENOWN BY THE SAME AUTHOR Arid Uniform with this Volume. The Story of Andrew Fairfax. Ishmael Pengelly: An Outcast. The Monk of Mar Saba. "All Men are Liars." Jabez Easterbrook. Zillah. WARD, LOCK & CO., Limited. Do you wonder that I hate my wife now ? ' Fields of Fair Renown.] [Page 357. EV JOSEPH HOCKING. " ' Accepted ' (Page 117.) LONDON : WARD, LOCK & CO., LIMITED, WARWICK HOUSE, SALISBURY SQUARE, E.C. NEW YORK AND MELBOURNE. BY ,< JOSEPH HOCKING AUTHOR OF " ALL MEN ARE LIARS," " ISHMAEL PENGELLY," " THE STORY OF ANDREW FAIRFAX," ETC. With Frontispif.ce and Vignette by J. BARNARD DAVIS London : Ward, Lock & Co., Limited, Warwick House, Salisbury Square, E.C. New York and Melbourne. 1896 [All rights reserved] CONTENTS PAGE

Chapter I

the village genius MERLIN ROSEVEAR was walking along a Cornish lane on a June evening. As usual he was dream ing, for Merlin was a great dreamer. Nearly all the other young men who lived in the village near, or were connected with the Besowsa mine, had either gone to see their sweethearts or were gathered together in groups in order to talk of matters in which they were interested. But Merlin had been known all his life as a " loanly booy." He preferred the companionships of the people of his imagination to those of the village ; he would rather dream of the future he hoped for, than listen to the talk of the lads with whom he had gone to school. The general opinion in Besowsa mine was that Merlin would never make out much in life. People admitted that he was clever, and that he had "nearly as much larnin' as the passon hisself," but then he wasn't practical.

When he had left school he went to work with his father underground, and while he gained a thorough knowledge of mining, he was never contented as a miner. He generally carried a book in his pocket, and was far more interested in the history of the strange people who ages before came to Cornwall to dig for tin, than in the welfare of Besowsa Tin Mining Company, Limited. A year before this story opens he had been appointed as mine clerk, and while his work was more congenial than that of the men who worked underground, he was far from happy. The truth was Merlin wanted to be a man of letters. From the days of his childhood he had revelled in the stories for which Cornwall is so famous. He had delighted himself in listening to old cronies' stories of wizards, fairies, and witchcraft, and in after years he longed to give to the world books which should tell out his dreams of life.

He would rather have seen his name on the title-page of a successful book than to be a peer of the realm or the Prime Minister of the country. Some of the dreams of his life, too, were very beautiful. He lived in the world of romance ; and true, pure romance is ever beautiful. He had visions far removed from the sordid materialism which he saw around him. He saw- Utopian heights which to him were possible, and these he wanted to write about. He was a great reader, as the reading of country youths go. He revelled in the fine writing of Isaiah and that in the Book of Job, and could repeat from memory many a passage from Milton and Shakespeare. Neither was he altogether ignorant of later literature. He knew Walter Scott and Charles Dickens. He knew a little us Browning. and more of Tennyson. As I said, Merlin Rosevear was walking along a Cornish lane on a summer evening, and as he walked he saw visions of what he wanted to do and be.

" Yes," he mused, " I'll do it. I've stories to tell as well as the best of them. I'm full of fancies, full of hopes. I'm sure my work is far better than half of that which is accepted. Oh, if those editors would only give me a chance ! " He strode on, his lips moving nervously. " I've no one to encourage me ; no one understands me," he continued, bitterly. " People laugh at my ideas. Even the new travelling preacher tells me that my thoughts are too unpractical to be worth anything, while father is always laughing at me. But I'll do it ; I'll do it," and his eyes sparkled at the thought of victory. " No man can be happy unless his surroundings are agreeable," he went on. " Everything frets and irritates him otherwise. Besides, why should I do work that I hate when there is a possibility of spending my whole time in doing what I love ?

Some people call me lazy be cause I will not do as they do, but they shall know some day ! Why do I have these dreams unless it is to tell them ? Why should these longings come to me, if they are not intended to be satisfied ? Why cannot I be a Walter Scott or a Victor Hugo ? Why cannot my thoughts be welcomed in the homes of England? Ay, and they shall, too — they shall ! " and the young man clenched his fist as he strode onward. By this time the aspect of the road had changed. Instead of high hedges covered by hazel bushes, tall elm trees grew by the roadside, while a little further on was a gateway, which stood at the end of a road leading up so an old-fashioned house. " Good evenin', Merlin." " Good evening, Jack." "You ba'ant 'fraid of the ghost comin' up out of the addit, then ? " " No ; I don't think it's been seen lately."

" Oa, the sarvent chap over to Downderry do zay that 'ee 'eard purty grooans there wawn night." Merlin laughed. Near where he stood, and at the end of the row of elms, was a disused mine pit, which was supposed to be haunted, and the man looked timidly towards it. "Well, I shouldn't like to be here arter dark for oal that ; but some people doan't seem to care. I do hear that Creekavose is tooked at last, after nobody livin' there oal thaise years." " Indeed ! Who has taken it ? " " Oa, a gent by the name of Granville." " Granville ! That is an old Cornish name." " Yes ; I do hear that the family was waunce very rich, but that they've lost some of their money. Still, it'll taake a few pound a year to kip up Creekavose." " Yes, it's a fine old place, but rather lonely. Good night, Jack." " Good night, Merlin."

Merlin walked along under the elms until he came to the gateway which formed the entrance to Creekavose, an old commodious house, which had been built long years before by a well-to-do yeoman, who had an ambition to be reckoned among the landed gentry of the county. Most of the land around had been cultivated by neighbouring farmers, but the house itself had been uninhabited for many years. The reasons for this were various. For one thing, it was said, and religiously believed among a section of the villagers, that the spirit of the old yeoman who had built it came back to earth and haunted it ; moreover, it was too large for the farmers of the neighbourhood, while capitalists did not care about burying themselves in a place so remote from the busy world. Not that the place was destitute of beauty.

Rather, it was much to be desired because of its suiroundings. Flill and dale, rich loamy meadows and wooded glens, appeared on every hand, while much of the land which had originally belonged to the house stretched down to the sea. As yet this part of the Cornish coast is unknown to the ordinary tourist, but there are few spots on our sea-girt island so sine. Here rugged cliffs rise many hundreds of feet above the sea, and in spite of exposure to wind and weather many a beauteous nook is to be found where luxuriant foliage grows close to the water's edge. " Granville," mused Merlin, as he stood at the gateway and looked at the old house, which he could dimly see through the trees ; " whoever he is I envy him. But I shall never know him, I suppose. A man bearing an old name, and living in such a house, must always be unknown to the clerk of Besowsa mine.

If, now — if " Then Merlin sighed as he wandered along the lane, and he forgot to notice the primroses which covered the hedges, and failed to catch the scent of the new mown hay, because of his dreams of the life which he hoped and determined to live. He had not gone far before a new sensation awaited him. Coming along the road he saw a young girl, a stranger to him, accompanied by a huge St. Bernard dog. Strangers were by no means common in St. Endor parish. It is true that members of the Besowsa Tin Mining Company, Limited, sometimes appeared in the neighbourhood, but they were never accompanied by ladies, hence the young lady coming along the road became an object of peculiar interest to Merlin. As she came nearer the interest increased. He saw at a glance that she was far removed from the young women of the parish.

He could scarcely tell why, but her dress, her walk, the expression of her face, told him that she lived in a world different from that in which the mine girls of Besowsa or the farmers' daughters of the neighbourhood lived. Not that she was what might be called handsome ; her features were by no means perfect ; but there was an expression of nobility on her face and a light shining from her eyes which revealed to the young man something of the life she lived. The face told him of many things which he could not put into words, the eyes, large and dark, spoke in a language which strangely appealed to him. Merlin felt all this rather than saw it — it came to him as an impression ; and yet, had he been asked to give reasons for having these feelings concerning her, he could not have given satisfactory answers.

They passed each other without a word, but she lifted her eyes to his for a moment, and then dropped them. That one look, however, set Merlin's heart beating wildly. Like other lads, he had his dreams and fancies concerning women, but he had never followed in the wake of the village youths, whose one great object in life seemed to be to "git a maid." The women he had loved had been those he had read about in romances, or those whom he had con jured up by his own imagination. This graceful girl, how ever, passing by him in the country lane, her face aglow with the health of youth, her eyes reflecting the brightness of the westering sun, seemed to be the fulfilment of his dreams ; she appealed to all the poetry of his nature, and set his heart throbbing with a joy that was half pain. He did not know who she was ; for a moment he did not care ; he only knew that from the moment their eyes met his life became new.

He did not turn and look after her ; he wandered on like one in a dream, and then suddenly stopped. For a few moments he stood thinking, and then he turned and silently followed her. By this time she was out of sight — a turn in the lane had hidden her from his view : but he hurried along close to the hedge side, as if anxious to escape observation; then, coming up to the bend in the lane, he stopped, for she had again become visible. With a strange, yearning look in his eyes, he watched her until she came to Creekavose Gate. " Nero, Nero ! " she called, and instantly the great dog came bounding back to her. " Don't you know the way to your new home, Nero ? " she said, with a laugh, as she patted the dog's huge head ; then she opened the gate, and disappeared beneath the shadow of elm trees which formed an avenue leading up to the house.

Again Merlin ran along on the grass which divided the road from the hedge, until he came to the gate ; then he watched her until she was out of sight. For a long time he stood thinking ; but, suddenly realising his position, he hurried away as though he had been doing something of which he was ashamed. He had nearly reached Besowsa mine when, seeing a footpath through some fields which led to a wooded valley, he jumped over the stile and made his way thitherward. Presently he slackened his pace, and soon after stopped. " She has come to live at Creekavose," he mused ; " I expect she is the daughter of the new owner. Her name will be Granville." He paused for a few seconds, and again went on musing. " Anyhow, she is far removed from me. Merlin Rosevear, the clerk of Besowsa mine, has no right to speak to such as she.

I wonder now, I wonder " He walked on again until he came to the mouth of the valley. " Good evenin', Merlin." " Good evening, Abraham. Prospecting, as usual ? " " Iss, I'm lookin' round a bit. Tell 'ee what, sonny, you doan't knaw haalf the lodes in Besowsa. You do jist kep on workin' 'pon the new part of the mine, and do never tich the ould men's workin's. I've heerd my faather tell of a grand lode that th' ould men worked. They knaw'd tin, they did; as fur yer new up-the-country cap'n, he doan knaw nothin' 'bout Cornish mines." " Well, he thinks he knows more about it than you older men, Abraham ; besides, the company didn't think you knew much about the new ideas concerning mining. That was why you were asked to resign, and why Cap'n Kent was appointed in your place." " Iss, iss, I dersay," replied the old man, sadly.

" 'Tis jist like the new-fangled notions to put a man like Cap'n Kent to work a mine, when he doan knaw nothin' 'bout it. But I tell 'ee, cheeld, there's a grand lode not a hundred fathoms from the injin shaft which could be worked from the thirty-fathom sollar." " But why didn't the old men work it, Abraham ? " " Why ? 'Cause they had no machinery to kip the water out, that's why." " Well, we are working from the twenty-fathom sollar towards the old mine, Abraham." " Iss, I do knaw. Now look, Merlin, you be the clerk of Besowsa, and you've got a map of the underground workin's. Do 'ee knaw about the addit level that do run from jist here up close to the backs, not far from your twenty-fathom sollar ? " " No, I never heard of it." " I knaw'd you didn'. But there es, my dear, there es. Look, 'ere's the mouth of the level."

Merlin looked, and saw a hole in the hillside which seemed to run in the direction of the Besowsa mine. "Well, now," continued Abraham, "that level do run close up to the " backs " where the men be stopin'. I spoase, now, that your cap'n do think that the ground es saafe jist there ? " " It's well timbered, Abraham." "Well tembered ! " responded the old man; "tell 'ee what, Merlin, there's hundreds of tons of stuff jist ready to fall, and it'll smash all yer temberin' like matches." " You should tell Cap'n Kent." " I have tould 'un, my dear. But he do knaw too much to be tould. He jist laughed. But mind, Merlin, I went underground yesterday, jist to zee, and any time the ground may fall, and the men'll either be buried or jist boxed in so that they caan't git to the engine shaft." " Poor old man !

" thought Merlin, as he walked back to his home ; " he's awfully cut up at not being captain, but for all that there's no man in the county that knows as much about mining as he." Then he ceased to think any more about Abraham or the mine, for he remembered the young girl he had seen that evening ; and then all through the long night her face seemed to haunt him, while his heart went out to her in a way that he could not understand. Five days passed away, and although Merlin Rosevear went often near Creekavose Gate, he did not see the young girl who had passed him on the Saturday evening. On the Friday following, however, when he again sat in the " 'count " house, wondering how and when he should be able to meet her again, Cap'n Kent rushed into the room in breathless haste. " I'm goin' underground, Merlin," he said.

" Anything the matter ? " " No, nothin's the matter ; but Squire Granville, the gentleman who's come to Creekavose to live, and his daughter, do want to see the mine." Merlin's heart gave a great bound. " Do you want me to go with you, cap'n ? " " No ; what good would you be ? I'm goin' to show 'em round myself, and after we've bin down I'm goin' back to Creekavose with the squire. You must go round to the floors at five o'clock and see that the ricks and buddies be all right, and taake notice that nobody do laive before the whistle do blaw." " All right, cap'n ! " said Merlin, with a sad heart. " What time es et now ? " " Half-past two." " Then I must be off," said the cap'n, who had by this time arrayed himself in underground attire, which consisted of a pair of duck trousers, a flannel shirt, and a hard hat, on the top of which a candle was stuck.

" I promised to be at the engine shaft by twenty minutes to three. We shall go down in the big kibble. The whim will let us down." " Yes," said Merlin ; " what part of the mine are you going to ? " " Oh, nearly oal over it. But I want to shaw Squire Granville that rich piece of lode which we shall git to from the twenty-fathom sollar." " Is it safe, do you think, cap'n ? " asked Merlin, remembering Abraham Richard's words. "Saafe? Iss, to be sure tes safe. There, I must be off; and mind, you musn't leave the count house till nearly five o'clock, cause I expect the foundry man will be here 'bout the new castings." " Very well," said Merlin, turning wearily to his books. He worked for a few minutes, and then crept outside the account house and looked towards the engine shaft. Yes, there she was preparing to go underground.

He saw the cap'n strutting around officiously, while an elderly gentle man stood talking with one of the men. Presently they got into the "big kibble," which was a large deep wooden box; the boy who drove the "whim horse " cracked his whip, the great wooden cylinder began to revolve, the rope which was around it began to unwind, which rope, being fastened to the " big kibble," allowed the passengers to descend slowly in the darkness underneath the soil. Merlin returned to his books again, but he could not work. The long lines of figures were wholly incompre hensible to him, and he had no heart to understand their meaning. He seemed like one in a dream. Hours afterwards he was aroused by a sound of shouting and a rushing of feet. He went outside and saw a man running. " What's the matter ? " he asked, " Accident underground."

A great fear came into Merlin's heart. Without a second's hesitation he rushed towards the engine shaft, where a number of people had already gathered. " What is it ? What is it ? " he asked, excitedly. " Accident underground," was the reply. " Where, where ? " " Here's the man that can tell you," was the reply ; " he was the first to come to grass." " Ah, 'Siah Truscott, where's the accident ? What is it ? " " Twenty-fethom level," replied the man. " I " " But the cap'n and the " " They passed me jist as I was comin' from the cross-cut. They went along the level towards the winze." " Yes ? " " Well, they had'n a-bin gone more'n a minute when I heerd a sound like thunder. I went toward the shaft as fast as my legs would car' me, and then I heerd the tember snap like matches." " And the cap'n and the — the visitors ?

" " I'm 'fraid," said the man, solemnly, "that they must be buried. The ground was bad oal long there, and I see nothin' for it but they must be buried." " But they may have got near the ' backs.' " " Ef they did there may be a chance, for the ground es better there ; but I'm terrible 'fraid. Besides, ef they've got there I'm 'fraid there's no chance. You see there's no air, and 'twould take days to git to 'em. There's thousands a tons ov stuff in the way." " Well, start to work at once. Get as many men as you can to work." " That's wot I'm doin', Merlin ; but I'm 'feared there's no chance — noan at oal." " There must be, there must be!" cried Merlin, frantically. " Ef we git as many men as we can to work day and night it'll take a week," replied 'Siah Truscott. " Ef they bean't dead they're in their grave.

Ther's several men with families, too, poor dears. Aw, 'ere be some ov the poor wimmen comin'." Merlin had forgotten the miners, he had forgotten the captain ; he was thinking of the young girl who out of curiosity had gone to danger, and perhaps to death. The thought maddened him. For a time he seemed wholly demented ; then, with a strange light in his eyes he started running towards a valley in the near distance. " God grant — oh, God grant it may be true ! " he gasped, as he ran on.

Chapter II In

the old mine MERLIN had gone but a few hundred yards when he stopped suddenly. " It is no use my trying without light and without a pick," he said to himself, whereupon he turned and ran towards the 'count house, casting as he did so hurried glances towards the engine shaft, where people congregated rapidly. No one seemed to notice him ; all attention was given to the men who had been underground, and were able to tell something about the falling of the stuff, and the possible condition of those working in that part of the mine. He rushed into the office, hastily put on a miner's hat, on which was stuck a piece of candle ready for use, seized a box of matches, some candles, a pick, and then without waiting ran a second time towards the valley where he had met Abraham Richards the Saturday night previous.

Arrived there, he looked eagerly around among the bushes to find the mouth of the level, which the old man had pointed out on that occasion, but in his excitement failed to see it. " What a fool I was not to take more notice of the old man's words," he cried. " Of course it may mean nothing, but it seems the only chance," and again he hurried to and fro in hopes of finding the level. " I must keep cool," he thought at length, " else I shall be useless. I should have found it before now if I were not so excited. Let me see, now. I came down by yonder path, old Abraham was standing just here, and we went along by those bushes, close to the little stream. Ah ! there it is ! " Yes, there was the level, nearly hidden by bushes, and its mouth half filled up by a heap of rocks which had fallen. Like a madman he leaped on the rocks, pulled away some of the larger ones, and groped his way into the darkness.

He soon found himself knee-deep in water, and the air was cold and vault-like. " That stuff has dammed back the water," he thought ; and then with trembling hands he lit a match, and soon the candle on the top of his hat gave forth a flickering light. "I wonder if the level is timbered further in?" he thought, "not that it'll be much good if it is. The wood will be rotten long before now, and if the ground is fallen it will be impossible for me to get to them." His heart became heavy as lead at the thought, and he imagined the fair girl whom he had seen a few days before either crushed beneath a vast heap of fallen rock or en tombed in terrible darkness, a hundred and twenty feet beneath the soil. " Oh, I'll save her, I will save her ! " he gasped. He groped his way along the level, the water becoming shallower at each step, and he noticed as he went that the sides were destitute of any woodwork, but that the ground seemed perfectly safe.

He had a good idea of locality, and his years of underground life enabled him to judge of the direction he was going even although he had nothing to guide him. He was also able to tell pretty nearly the distance he had gone at any given period, for this also is a knowledge which a miner gains through working underneath the soil, where landmarks are few. Presently his heart seemed to stand still, for when he had gone what he thought must be about half the distance between the mouth of the level and the backs to which he fearfully hoped this level might lead, and where he still more fearfully hoped Miss Granville and her father were, the level seemed to stop. For a moment he sat down in utter despair. He must be at least a hundred fathoms from the entombed miners, and there appeared no possibility of his getting any further.

Old Abraham Richards was wrong. Evidently the old miners had abandoned the level. And yet why should Abraham say it reached the new workings, or, at any rate, came close to it? Then another thought struck him. If the level reached the new workings, why had the present miners not discovered it ? As far as he could see, he might as well get back while he was able, and yet how could he go and leave He started up again, determined to leave nothing undone that lay in his power to do. A great heap of rubbish lay at his feet ; he looked above him, and found that the " old men " had been stoping — i.e., working upwards. Why had they done this ? Probably the level was driven to work a lode. If that were so, they must have had some reason for stoping. He looked carefully around, and discovered that there was a cross-cut — that is, another level branched from it.

With fast-beating heart he entered the cross-cut, but did not go far. It was leading him right away from the direction where the accident had taken place. Wearily he came back again. By this time the candle on the top of his hat had burnt out, but he lit another, carefully pressed some clay at its end, and then stuck it to the hard miner's hat. He examined what seemed the end of the level, and then gave a cry of joy. It was only a pile of rock which had fallen. He slowly crept up the rough heap, carrying his pick in his hand. When he had got some distance he stopped for breath. " I think it continues," he mused ; " but it seems as though the old men altered their course a bit." He spoke aloud, and he was almost frightened at the sound of his own voice, but a moment later it struck him that his voice echoed not only along the road by which he had come, but also before him.

If that were so there must be an open space in that direction. " Holloa ! " he said, louder. Yes ; his voice echoed not only behind him and along the cross-cut, but before him. Old Abraham Richards was right. He peered carefully around him. Yes, there was a hole before him. The ground which had fallen had only partly filled up the space. He crawled along the hole ; at first there was barely room for his body, but presently it grew larger, and by-and-by he found himself in a level that was fairly intact. The course was altered — of that he was sure ; but that might mean nothing wrong. Possibly the direction of the lode had been altered by another, for which the cross cut had been driven. Then he remembered that he would have to return the same way, and if he found Miss Gran ville she, too, must pass through that dark hole.