The History of Margaret Catchpole, a Suffolk Girl. Cobbold Richard
such would have been the case, had young Laud come with him, or brought the load himself. He had assumed the countryman’s dress to avoid any notice from the coastguard, and, until he came to the lane leading to the farm, he had brought the bale of goods in a sack slung over his shoulder, as if it were corn, or chaff, or flour. He was not very easily put out, nor long in giving his answer.
“No, young woman, I have had lug enough to bring it here, and I got a crown for my job; mayhap, if I were to take it back to the youngster, I might lose half my crown, and so be paid for my trouble. I’m not fond of broken heads for a love-ditty. You may find some one else to take it back: I’ve done my duty.”
“No, you have not,” said Margaret; “you are no landsman, I am sure: your duty is not that of an honest labourer. You are – I am sure you are – connected with the smugglers on the coast. You may take this parcel for yourself. I give it to you, to do what you like with; but do tell the young man, when you see him, that I hate his presents, though not himself.”
“I won’t have anything to do with what’s not my own,” said the man, "although you tell me I’m not an honest man. I’m off. I was to meet the young chap again to-morrow at the same time and place. If you had any small love-token now, or any words which might not anger the young fellow, why, I shouldn’t mind taking ’em; but if you haven’t any, why then I’ll tell him you didn’t care anything about him or his present. So good-bye to you.”
The fellow took up his hat and stick to depart.
“Hold!" said Margaret – "hold!" and taking her father’s hat down from its peg, she tore off the crape, and folding it up, she approached the disguised seaman, saying – "Give him this – do give him this – and tell him, I’d rather we all wore the like for him, than the rich things he has sent us. Will you tell him this?”
“No doubt he’ll be much obliged to you: but you won’t be long in this mind. So, good-bye to you all.” And the man departed, leaving that spirited girl to think with pain of the dreaded words of Susan – "Margaret, you will never marry William Laud!”
CHAPTER III MISFORTUNES
Well would it have been for the Catchpoles and the Cracknells, had they burnt every bit of valuable stuff which the smuggler had that day brought. What years of anguish would it have spared them! – what miseries! what agonies! Nothing unlawful can long prosper. Sorrow and bitterness follow the days of unjust gain, and whosoever thinks to be happy by the sudden influx of ill-gotten wealth, will find himself grievously mistaken. Wealth gotten by honest industry and fair dealing may enable a good man to soothe the sufferings of others, but even when obtained, men find that it is not the being rich, but the regular employment in a prosperous line of life, that gives the pleasure. Sudden prosperity is too often destructive of a man’s peace of mind; but sudden prosperity, by evil means, is sure to bring its own ruin. Had but that first bale of goods been burnt, Margaret might have continued the happy, cheerful child of Nature, respected and received as the honest, good-hearted girl she really was.
It may fairly be said of Margaret, that she had no covetous hankering after any of the goods which were that day presented to her eye. She told all her friends what they were, and consulted with them what should be done with them. She would have given them up to the government officers, but she saw that it would involve her lover. She would have sent them to Laud’s father, but again the idea of causing him distress deterred her. Oh! that she had cast them upon the broad sea, and let who would have caught them! But they were goodly things to look upon; they were costly – too good to throw away. And as Mrs. Cracknell said they might all be serviceable, and it was a sin to waste them, she persuaded Margaret to let her have them.
“Let my good man take them home; we may by degrees get rid of them. I can do the smaller packages up in smaller parcels, in my way; and as to the silks and lace, I can find perhaps a distant customer to take them off my hands.”
“You may do what you like with them,” said Margaret, “only do not let me know anything more about them.”
“You know, Mr. Catchpole,” said Mrs. Cracknell, “that we may all want a little help one day, and these things may provide against a stormy hour. At all events, you shall lose nothing by them, though they now bring you no profit.”
It did not take much time to persuade these simple-minded people to part with things for which they had no demand and no taste.
Mrs. Cracknell had them conveyed to her cottage, where she had them sorted out, and, as prudently as possible, disposed of them according to the means of her humbler customers.
After a time, she found herself gradually improving in circumstances, and, had she been content, might have gone on improving for years. Her profits were too rapid, however, not to excite a stronger mind than she possessed. She made, of course, handsome presents to the young Catchpoles, and Margaret had the mortification of seeing a smart pipe, and of smelling the fumes of rich tobacco, even in her own cottage, well knowing they were the fruits of her lover’s misdoings.
Meantime, that lover’s name began to be notorious along the coast. Margaret heard no good of him. The coastguard had set a mark upon him, and it became known throughout the country that Will Laud was the ringleader of as desperate a gang as ever infested the shores of Great Britain.
So frequent were the inroads made at this period upon the commerce of the country, that government had to employ a very active force to stay, though she could not put down, so discreditable a feature upon her coasts.
At this time the shores of Norfolk and Suffolk were most conspicuous for contraband trade. Severe and deadly were the continual actions between the preventive-service men and the smugglers; lives were continually lost on both sides; and dreadful animosities sprang up between the parties upon the sea-shore.
Will Laud and his associates had great luck; and Captain Bargood found in him as bold and profitable a fellow as he could wish. Many were the hairbreadth escapes, however, which he, in conjunction with his crew, experienced. Laud was a tool in the hands of his mate, though he himself was not aware of it; for whilst that fellow had his own way, he always managed to get it through the medium of the captain’s permission. He would, in his bluff way, suggest, with all becoming subordination, such and such a scheme, and generally succeeded in the enterprise.
They had observed for a long time a scout upon the beach under Bawdsey Cliffs, and knew that he was one of the Irish cruisers, who had been transplanted to watch their craft: Laud proposed to nab him when he could. He had been ashore one day to meet his employer, and had met this merry-hearted Irishman at the Sun Inn, in a street of that long, sandy village of Bawdsey. Pat was a loquacious, whisky-loving, light-hearted fellow, who, without fear, and with ready wit, made himself agreeable to everybody. He frequented the various inns along the border, and was generally liked for his dash of gallantry, his love of drinking, and his generous spirit; he was a brave fellow, too, and watchful for his honour. He had seen along the beach a man roaming about, and had concealed himself, not far from the fisherman’s cottage, on purpose to watch him; but all he could make out was, that the man went to the back of the cottage, and there he lost him. Pat went to the fisherman’s cot, found the man and his wife at their meals, searched about the premises, but could spy nothing. Pat had seen this thing several times, and was fully convinced that the man he saw was a smuggler.
In Bawdsey Cliff the smugglers had a cave of no small dimensions. It had formerly been a hollow ravine in the earth, formed by the whirling of a stream of water, which had passed quickly through a gravelly bed, and met with opposition in this mass of clay. It had made for itself a large crater, and then had issued again at the same place, and ran through a sand-gall and gravelly passage down to the sea. This was discovered by a tenant of the Earl of Dysart, who, in sinking a well near his shepherd’s cottage, suddenly struck into the opening of this cave. As the springs were low at this season, the cave was almost empty of water, and formed a most curious appearance. It was even then called the Robbers’ Cave, and curiosity was greatly excited in the country to visit it. It was so smoothly and regularly formed by the eddies of the whirlpool, that the nicest art could not have made it so uniform. The proprietor sank his well some feet lower, until he came to a good stream; but in making the well, he formed an archway into this curious place, and