The Coastguardsman's Yarn

________________________________________________
Title:     The Coastguardsman's Yarn
Author: Talbot Baines Reed [More Titles by Reed]

A LEGEND OF THE CIVIL WAR.

Several summers ago I happened to be spending a few weeks at W--, a small fishing village on the Welsh coast. A beautiful little place it was, nestling in a break of the cliffs which rose majestically above it on either side and stretched in gaunt rugged walls seaward.

The beautiful bay, with its sunset lights behind the grand headland, with its deep caves and tumbled rocks, and above all its blue waters, lying sometimes calm and motionless, and at others dashing furiously at the foot of the cliffs, was enough to attract any lover of nature.

And dull little place as it was, with its one tiny inn and its handful of natives, the time I spent there, with my easel and paint-brush, was one of the most enjoyable of my life.

But beautiful as the view was from the land, I found the view from the sea still more attractive, and in order to gratify my tastes in this respect, I took pains to get myself into the good graces of one or two of the fishermen, a few of whom could speak English, and many times accompanied them on their fishing cruises in the bay, where, while they toiled at the nets, I sat and drank in the thousand beauties of the coast, or worked eagerly with my brush to commit them to canvas.

The expedition I liked best was towards the southern headland of the bay, where the cliffs were tallest and steepest and where, to add to the other attractions of the view, stood, perched like an eagle's nest on the edge of the crag, the ruins of an old castle.

By old, I do not mean Roman or even Norman. Indeed in that sense it was comparatively modern; for the building, what was left of it, looked more like one of those Tudor manor-houses which dot the country still, than a fortress. And yet, that it had been fortified was plain enough even still. On the side towards the sea it needed no protection; indeed looking up at it from below, it seemed almost to overhang its precipitous foundation. But on the land side there remained traces of a moat, and loop-holes in the walls, and a massive gate.

It was scarcely to be called a picturesque ruin, except inasmuch as every ruin is picturesque. Its bare walls rose gaunt and black out of the ground, not out of a heap of tumbled moss-grown masonry, or covered over with ivy. There were very few signs of decay about the place, ruinous as it was, and very little examination was enough to show that it had suffered not from old age, or from the cannon of an enemy, but from fire.

No one about could tell me its story, and the mystery of the place only added to its charm. Indeed I was quite glad to discover that it had not even a name, and that the country folk would as soon have thought of crossing the old moat after nightfall as they would have done of stepping over the edge of the cliff. The only thing I could learn about it, in fact, was that it was haunted, and that the one little turret which still retained a roof, and over which the only ivy visible tried to creep, was railed the Lady Tower, and was the "most haunted" spot of all.

I could not believe that the one corner of the old ruin where there still remained a sign of life and verdure, could be infested by any very terrible ghost. Still I am not quite sure whether I should have enjoyed a solitary night's rest there, and to have suggested the thing to the natives of W-- would have been enough to secure my incarceration as a raving lunatic. So I did not. But by daytime I added myself one more to the spirits that haunted the place, and yielded myself up completely to its fascination.

One day towards the end of my visit I walked over to a coastguard station some miles along the shore for the sake of taking a last survey of the beautiful coast. When I reached it I found, to my pleasure, one of the W-- fishing-boats just preparing to put out and sail round the headland back to the village. One of the coastguardsmen was on board, and I was glad to accept the invitation of my honest friend to form another of the party.

I found the coastguardsman a most intelligent fellow--well informed on many subjects, and even professing to be something of an art critic. I showed him one or two of my pictures, and he was graciously pleased to approve of them, especially a sketch of the ruined castle from the south, with the Lady Tower in the foreground.

The examination of this picture naturally turned the conversation on to the ruin, and I was delighted to find my companion seemed almost as interested in the subject as I was.

"It's a strange thing," said I, "that the one thing wanting seems to be a story."

"Ah! that was burnt out by the fire, sir."

I was rude enough to laugh. He fancied I was lamenting the absence of the top storey!

"I don't mean that," I said. "What I mean is, no one seems to know anything about the place or its history."

"Not they! What should they bother their heads about it for?"

"But it must have a history of some sort," said I.

"Of course it has."

"Do you know it?"

"Of course I do."

It was quite a shock to me to find any one knew anything about my ruin, and it was some time before I ventured to ask--

"Would you tell it to me?"

Instead of saying "Yes," the coastguardsman laid down his telescope, pulled a plug of tobacco out of his pocket, and, cutting off a small quid, put it into his mouth, looked up at the sail, shifted himself once or twice in his seat, and then, looking to see if I was ready, began--

"It's not such a wonderful yarn after all, sir. You see, something like two hundred and fifty years ago, when our Civil Wars were going on-- you've heard of them, I suppose?--yonder castle belonged to a stout Charles the First's man called Fulke. He owned a good bit about this coast, I'm told, and the folk at the New Manor are sort of descendants. But direct descendants they can't be, for Fulke only had one daughter, sir, and she never married. If it hadn't been for those cruel wars she would have been married, though, for she was betrothed to a neighbour, young Morgan, who lived beyond that hill there, and mightily they loved one another too! Fulke, whose lands joined on Morgan's, was pleased enough to have the two families united, and united they would have been to this day but for the Civil Wars. I'm no great hand at dates, sir, but it was somewheres about 1642 that things began to get unpleasant.

"One day, not long before the wedding was to be, Fulke and his daughter went over to Morgan Hall; and while the young folk spent the day love- making in the garden the two old folk sat and discussed the affairs of the nation in the house. And it's safe to say the two out of doors agreed far better than the two indoors. For Morgan went with the Parliament, and told Fulke the King had no right to try and arrest the five members, and that the Parliament had done a fine thing in protecting them, and that if he'd been there he'd have called out against the King as loud as any of them. At that Fulke--who was a hot- headed man at best of times, and who went mad to hear any one say a word against the King--got up in a rage, and, taking his hat, stalked out into the garden, and taking his daughter by the arm marched away from Morgan Hall with never a word.

"It was a sad business. The young folks begged and the old Morgan sent a letter; but no, Fulke wouldn't listen to one of them, and forbade his daughter to leave the castle.

"Whether the lovers saw one another after that I don't know, but almost directly after the war blazed out and the whole country went mad. Morgan and his son had to leave these parts, and took arms under the Parliament, while Fulke brought guns and powder into his castle, and hoisted the flag of King Charles.

"The young lady had a busy time of it sheltering and entertaining the Royalists who came this way. But she had no heart in it--not that she didn't love the King, sir. Yet she loved young Morgan more.

"So things went on for four or live years. The King, as you know, sir, got the worst of it, and was driven to his wits' end. Most of his friends had fallen, and some had deserted. But so far no one had given Fulke much trouble. Either they had never heard of him, or saw there was not much to fear from him. So the Royal flag waved over the castle day and night, and the young lady did what her father bid her, and never went abroad or heard a word of young Morgan.

"But at last the King, not knowing what to do, tried to bring over the Irish to help him. And then it was the troubles in these parts began. For every one that was suspected of aiding in this venture was doomed by the Parliament.

"And Fulke was suspected. Rightly or wrongly I can't say, but I've a notion there was something in it. Anyway, his castle commanded the bay, and the Parliament made up their minds to have it. Fulke had only time to get a score or so of men with arms and provender inside his gate, when a troop of roundheads came with their guns over the lulls and sat down before it.

"The leader of the troop was a Colonel Frank, a cruel, ruffianly fellow, as you shall hear. And the second in command was no other than young Captain Morgan himself.

"He had had plenty of rough work during the war, and had done it well. And it's a pity, sir, all the Parliament's officers weren't of his sort, for he was as unlike Colonel Frank as a house-dog is to a wolf. When first ordered on this expedition he didn't know where he was going, and you can fancy his horror at finding out that he was to lay siege to the very castle that held his lady-love. At first he would have held back, and even refused. But he was under iron rules, and besides, thought he, I might help my lady more by going than staying away.

"So he came with the troop to the castle, and looked wistfully up at the little turret yonder, and prayed that she might never know that he was where he was.

"Colonel Frank came expecting an easy task with this small out-of-the- way castle. But it was not so easy as he thought. On two sides, as you see, sir, no mortal man could get at it. And on the other two, Fulke had guarded himself so well that by the end of a fortnight the Roundheads were not an inch nearer getting the place than they had been when they began.

"The rage of the colonel knew no bounds, and he vowed all sorts of vengeance. You may fancy one of his men did not join in his threats. Many a time that fortnight Captain Morgan wished a shot from the castle might find him out and end his misery. And yet whenever he was tempted to desert or quarrel with his colonel the thought of the lady left with no protector at the mercy of such a man held him to his post. All he could do was once or twice to urge the colonel to raise the siege, or come to terms with its master. But Frank was bent on vengeance, and at last poor Morgan had to desist for fear of getting suspected himself.

"About three weeks after the siege had begun, when the Roundheads were beginning to lose spirit, and Morgan's hopes were beginning to rise once more, a trooper rushed into the colonel's tent to say he had found a small cave below the top of the cliff which seemed to run up under the castle. The colonel's eyes blazed at the news, and he ordered the man to lead him instantly to the spot. Do you see a square grey patch on the face of the cliff up there, sir, nearly at the top, under the south corner?"

"Yes; what is it?"

"That's the mouth of the cave. At least, it's not a cave now, for it's filled up. But it was there the trooper, under cover of night, led the colonel and the captain. They didn't do more than mark the place then, for fear an alarm might be given by a sentinel within.

"`Now,' says Colonel Frank, `the castle's ours; and not a soul inside it shall be there by this time to-morrow.'

"`What shall you do?' says Captain Morgan, pale, and with a shaky voice.

"`Do? Art thou a dunce, Morgan? Without doubt, at the end of that cave is a way up into the castle; and though the passage be too narrow for all my troop, three men and a captain will suffice to lay faggots and light them at the door. What say you, comrade?'

"`What!' cries Morgan, `would you burn the place? No, no, colonel; we will capture it if we can, but it is no soldier's work to burn men in their beds!'

"`Fool!' exclaims the colonel, in a passion, `it is no captain's work to read sermons to his colonel, sirrah! These rebels shall be smoked out like all other vermin!'

"`But,' says the captain once more, and very pale--`but I hear there is a lady in the castle, and--'

"`Peace, sir, on your peril!' exclaims the colonel, `and hold yourself ready to obey orders when I shall give them.'

It was no use saying more, young Morgan saw that. As it was, he knew his colonel half suspected him of some treachery, and for the rest of that day put a watch upon him. Twenty times that day he was on the point of risking all consequences and declaring to his officer's face he would have no hand in this bad business. But the thought of how much worse that might be for the folk in the castle kept him to his post.

"Well, sir, the day passed, and they kept up a show of besieging the place on the land side, and took care to keep all Fulke's guns turned that way. But at nightfall Colonel Frank called Morgan to him and ordered him to take six men, whom he named, and try the passage.

"`If you find a sentinel at this end,' says the colonel, `see he is overpowered and taken before an alarm can be given. Over the cliff will be the shortest way with him. The men you take know their business; and see you perform yours!' he says, with a scowl. `I and the rest of the troop will be ready to storm the place as soon as we see the flames. Go now, lose no time; and, hark you, there is no quarter to-night for traitors!'

"This last remark may have been meant for the captain, who knew that, at heart, he was a traitor to the Parliament that night; or it may have been meant for the inmates of the castle. Anyway, it sounded ugly enough, and it was all Morgan could do to hold his peace and make no reply.

"He found the six men waiting for him without, and in the darkness they crept stealthily round to the edge of the cliff, where a narrow ledge led down to the end of the cave.

"It was a perilous step down, especially to those unaccustomed to the way. But the spot had been carefully marked in the daytime, and presently the little band all stood there at the entrance. Morgan in his secret heart wished some sentinel of the besieged might have perceived them, and so given an alarm. But no; such was the security Fulke felt in the secrecy of his cave that it never entered his head to guard it.

"The men entered one by one, with a man carrying a light in front. The passage was too narrow to allow of two abreast, and too low for any one to stand upright in it. So, single file, on hands and knees, they crawled forward.

"At last, when they had gone some way, and the sound of the sea grew faint in the distance, Morgan halted his men.

"`Give me the light,' says he, `and stay here while I go forward and see how the passage ends.'

"He crawled forward to the front of the file and took the torch from the hands of the foremost man. But when he began to move forward he noticed that two of the band followed him at a short distance.

"`Did I not order you to remain with the rest?' demands he, angrily.

"`Pardon, captain. The colonel bade us keep close to you,' says one of the men, sourly.

"Morgan's blood ran cold in his veins, and his last hope of giving a friendly warning to those in the castle vanished. However, it was no time to quarrel, and he answered, with a forced laugh, `The colonel flatters me by his attention. But, as he is anxious for my welfare, come on, my men, and keep your eyes on me.'

"The three went forward, till the cave became so narrow that they could scarcely drag themselves farther. In one place a little chink in the roof let in a faint ray of moonlight from above.

"At length they could get no farther, and Morgan, turning his head, said, `It's a false scent, after all; the cave leads nowhere!'

"But at that moment over their heads they heard a sound of feet, and presently of voices. At first they could distinguish nothing, but after a while Morgan's ears caught some words.

"`Pray, master, get you to bed for this one night. The scoundrels can do nothing till the morning.'

"`I need no rest, I tell you,' said another voice, sternly. `How stands the provender, Peter?'

"`It will last three days, master; and the shot will hold out for two. The water, alas! is already exhausted.'

"`Ah! And my child--how is she?'

"`In good heart, master; she was sleeping like a child as I passed her room just now.'

"Morgan could forbear no longer. He turned quickly to his men and said, in a loud voice, which might be heard by the unseen watchers overhead, `My torch has gone out. Crawl back, one of you, to the rest and bring another, for if the castle is to be fired to-night--'

"There was a startled movement above, which told him his object had been gained. The voices grew silent, and the footsteps moved suddenly. For a moment his two companions did not comprehend what had happened. But it flashed on them soon enough, and they were ready for the emergency.

"One of the two suddenly lit a small ball of hemp saturated in some inflammable substance, which he had carried with him, and, fixing it on to the point of his sword, held it up to the boards above, at the same time that the other drew his pistol and pointed it at Morgan's head.

"Not a word was said, and not one of the three stirred, until a sharp crackling of the wood above told its own tale. The soldier still held up his brand till the place was well alight. Then withdrawing it, and beckoning to his companion, he began to retreat towards the mouth of the cave, saying as he did so, with a mocking laugh--

"`Farewell, master traitor, I doubt not your business keeps you where you are. We shall miss your company.'

"Morgan did not hear them. He sprang desperately towards the now blazing boards. But it was too late to stay the fire, and the heat and falling embers drove him back.

"Still he could not go, but stayed there half suffocated, determined at least not to desert his post while a glimmer of hope remained.

"In a few moments there was a crash and a shower of sparks at his feet. The trap-door had fallen in.

"Heedless of the peril or the pain, he sprang once more at the opening, and this time, how he knew not, succeeded in lifting himself into the blazing apartment. Many a time had he been there before in happier days.

"He rushed across to the door and out into the great hall of the castle. Not a man was there to stop him. He heard voices and shouts outside, but the castle seemed to have been left to its fate. There was yet time, thought he, before the flames reached so far, to rush up to his lady's room and save her.

"He sprang up the staircase. Halfway up he saw a figure before him, ascending too. He called, and the man turned suddenly. Morgan knew him in a moment. It was Fulke himself. The old Royalist, seeing himself pursued by a soldier in the dress of a Roundhead, concluded the enemy had already entered his castle, and with the fury of a desperate man, drew his sword and threw himself upon the stranger. Morgan had no time to hesitate. The delay of a moment might cost his lady her life.

"With a rapid pass of his sword, he struck Fulke across the arm, and as the weapon dropped from the old soldier's hand, Morgan rushed past, on towards the lady's chamber.

"Another obstacle still awaited him. This time it was a groom unarmed, who encountered him. He too, defenceless as he was, sprang wildly upon the intruder to dispute the passage. But Morgan put him by with the flat of his sword and crying--

"`Look to your master below. I will see to the lady,' darted on.

"After that it was all like a dream. He was dimly conscious of rushing down those steps shortly after, with a precious burden in his arms. How he struggled through the smoke and fire, or how he kept his feet on that tottering staircase, no one knows. It's enough to say he struggled forward down the stairs and across the hall as far as the outer door, where some one snatched his unharmed burden from his arms and carried her to a place of safety, where already her father, tended by his faithful servant, was recovering consciousness.

"The courtyard by this time was crowded with troopers, Royalist and Roundhead, and above the roar of the flames and the crashing of falling roofs there rose the report of guns and the clash of swords. Morgan, half stunned and like a man in a dream, was standing propped up against a tree a helpless spectator of the scene, when suddenly one of his own men rushed up to him and saluted.

"`The colonel, sir, is dead. He was under yonder wall as it fell. The men, sir, look to you for orders.'

"Morgan sprang to his feet like one electrified.

"`Call the men off,' he cried hoarsely, `instantly--without another blow, and bring the prisoners to the camp--to me. Lose not a moment, friend.'

"The order was obeyed. The Roundheads were glad enough to get clear of the tottering walls without being too particular as to who escaped and who was captured.

"Among the prisoners who next morning were reported to the captain as safe were Fulke, his daughter, and one manservant.

"Morgan's heart failed him. He could not, dared not see them. He ordered them to be kept in safe custody, and, meanwhile, summoned two of his most trusty soldiers to receive orders respecting them.

"That night a small boat was brought round to the bottom of yonder cliff, where you see the little creak, sir. And in it Fulke and the young lady and their servant were rowed secretly to W--, where a fishing-boat waited to carry them to Ireland. That's the story, sir."

"And what became of Morgan?" said I.

"No one heard of him after this affair, sir. And they do say he was punished as a traitor. But whatever the end of him was, he never repented his night's work at the burning of Fulke Castle."

[The end]
Talbot Baines Reed's short story: The Coastguardsman's Yarn

________________________________________________



GO TO TOP OF SCREEN