Read The Smugglers' Mine Online
Authors: Chris Mould
The Smugglers' Mine (4 page)
Perhaps he would have to resort to desperate measures, measures that would ensure his escape but would be a terrible burden for the people of Crampton Rock.
The next time Stanley and Daisy saw old MacDowell, he was down on his luck already, sitting on the harbor wall with his head in his hands.
“Ahoy there, MacDowell!” cheered Stanley.
“Ahoy yerself,” he said glumly.
“What's wrong, Mac?” started Stanley. “You were full of the joys of spring yesterday.”
“Well, to cut a long story short, I made me first sale and an hour later I 'ad to give me silver back and scrap all me money-makin' plans.”
“Why?” the two asked together.
“Well, a little old lady from the village bought the
wheel with a stick
, as you called it. She attached it to the dog where its front leg used to be, an' it all seemed to work fine.” MacDowell explained.
wheel with a stick
, as you called it. She attached it to the dog where its front leg used to be, an' it all seemed to work fine.” MacDowell explained.
“And?” urged Daisy.
“And then the dog ran down to the harbor and couldn't stop when it arrived.”
“Oh!” said Stanley.
“Yes, oh indeed! Now, did yer say yer had a map that wanted lookin' at?”
Stanley grinned at Daisy. At last, they had the help they needed.
The Greatest Secret
Despite Stanley's dislike of Edmund Darkling's imprisonment, it meant that his plan would turn out perfectly. Stanley and Daisy figured out that Grace Darkling and the children had taken to visiting Mr. Darkling at dusk, when the streets had emptied and the light was low.
Ideal circumstances for treasure seekers.
Daisy and Stanley briefed MacDowell fully as he gazed over the map.
“Well shiver me timbers, 'Ow on earth did yer work this one out? Are yer sure yer right?” he questioned.
“As sure as sure can be,” claimed Daisy.
These were the terms under which MacDowell was entrusted into the alliance:
They weren't to be seen entering through the fuel store at any cost.
When they were inside, they weren't to excite the dog in the house above them.
And most importantly, MacDowell would be paid by Stanley and Daisy for his efforts, depending on what they ended up with.
“Well it all sounds fine and dandy to me, young buccaneers,” he giggled. “I'm not so keen on the sound o' the Darkling place, but I guess I'll learn to live wi' that one.”
When darkness had made its way through the streets and buildings of the Rock, the treasure-seekers' alliance gathered under the dim lamplight of the square and headed across the village. Under the pretense that they were helping MacDowell on his invention project, they headed to Victor's workshop, where they had a clear view of the Darkling place.
They sat in candlelight for some time, and eventually saw the Darkling family heading for the jailhouse.
Three shapes left the huddled cosiness of Victor's shop, and ventured into the cold of an early evening. The bandy legs of MacDowell slithered down the chute, and Stanley and Daisy followed.
MacDowell sparked up a flame and held a lighted piece of paper aloft. Stanley held out a candle, and a yellow warmth filled the dank space.
Pulling out a long crowbar from inside his coat, MacDowell jimmied up a huge flagstone. With help from his aides, MacDowell levered this way and that, lifting each flagstone in turn.
“Nothing so far, Stanley!” he gasped. He blew into the air with hot breaths for a moment, sweat pouring from his brow.
“What about over there?” suggested Stanley, pointing to an as-yet undisturbed corner.
And as the slab in the far corner was raised, the reason for the wet floor became clear. There, underneath the last stone, was a well, cut into the rock below. Water came up to the brim, and Daisy dipped her hand in. She lifted it to her mouth and smelled it.
“Salt water,” she said.
MacDowell got down on his knees and tasted, just to be sure.
Stanley held the candle over it, but he could see nothing.
“What now?” he asked.
“We wait, Stanley,” suggested MacDowell.
“What for?”
“Come on, Stanley, use your noggin. It's salt water!” Daisy exclaimed. “From the sea! When the tide's out, we can climb in!”
“Ahhhhh! GREAT!” beamed Stanley. “When's next tide out?”
“Tomorrow afternoon,” announced Daisy.
“Then, me dears, we shall return!” cried MacDowell, who seemed revived with thoughts of treasure. He heaved the last stone back into position, but just as they were ready to leave, a door slammed over them.
A moment of panic ensued. The trio were scared into stillness as they listened to what they were sure must be the return of the Darklings. MacDowell held up his hands, gesturing to them not to move. Stanley blew out his candle.
Voices carried above. “What's wrong with Steadman?” they heard Berkeley ask. The black dog was sniffing and growling at the floor. “What is it, boy?” he persisted.
The dog whimpered and scratched at the bare boards.
“Berkeley, take a look down there, would you? Something has upset him.” It was Grace, clearly distressed at leaving her husband in the jailhouse. The three conspirators could hear the girls following her upstairs.
Berkeley opened the hatch from the kitchen and climbed into the space below. It was pure black, and he held a lamp to find his way. Steadman stood at the top of the steps, barking, with his head poking through the opening.
The treasure seekers were piled into one corner, their backs turned to Berkeley. He
held the lamp toward them. Under the light of the lamp was something that looked to Berkeley like an old sheet hung on the wall. But unbeknown to him, it was the back of MacDowell's coat. Inside it, Daisy and Stanley were tucked neatly on either side of their scrawny companion, their eyes shut tight and their bodies clenched in fear of discovery. Berkeley backed away. He tripped. Something was there. Something on the floor behind him. It was MacDowell's crowbar, still lying on the stone flags.
held the lamp toward them. Under the light of the lamp was something that looked to Berkeley like an old sheet hung on the wall. But unbeknown to him, it was the back of MacDowell's coat. Inside it, Daisy and Stanley were tucked neatly on either side of their scrawny companion, their eyes shut tight and their bodies clenched in fear of discovery. Berkeley backed away. He tripped. Something was there. Something on the floor behind him. It was MacDowell's crowbar, still lying on the stone flags.
“Are you all right, Berkeley?” came a voice. It was Olive, his twin sister.
“Fine,” he called.
“Come on,” she said. “Mother wants you upstairs!”
And to the great relief of the hiding trio, he disappeared back up the wooden staircase.
The three companions scrambled up the chute and stole out into the night, knowing full well that in only a short time, they would need to return.
The hours dragged. When they arose the following morning, the sun was cascading across the harbor, but Stanley was eager for the day to hurry along. Both he and Daisy had big hopes for what might lie beneath the Rock.
“A great hoard of treasure has placed its picture in my mind,” announced Stanley, “with twinkling diamonds and dazzling, jeweled shapes of gold.”
“I hope you're right,” said Daisy. “After all this trouble, you deserve it.” But Daisy had more sense. “Just a modest trunk of pirate gold is all I expect,” she laughed. “Nothing more. Just enough to pay me a handsome living and leave me in comfort for the rest of my life, that's all. Oh, and a handful of coins for the slab-lifter,” she joked.
The two of them were sitting on the harbor wall. Stanley had been whiling away the hours looking for crabs. He had a line of shells and bits of bone all laid out neatly in front of him.
MacDowell shuffled up alongside them.
“That's a smart-lookin' assortment o' beach
life if ever I saw one. This is a funny old place though, Stanley. Are yer sure yer not breaking some ancient law of the Rock by takin' them there shells and bones?”
life if ever I saw one. This is a funny old place though, Stanley. Are yer sure yer not breaking some ancient law of the Rock by takin' them there shells and bones?”
“Not as far as I know,” laughed Stanley.
“Shells are shells. They don't belong to anyone in particular, just to whoever picks them up and takes them, I guess.”
They sat in the sun for a little longer and watched the tide move slowly back. When they were absolutely sure that it was far enough out, they made their move, splitting up and reassembling at the bottom of the village.
Back at Crampton Rock, MacDowell was the lookout this time, bundling the other two unceremoniously down the chute. And then he followed, sailing down into the damp darkness and not caring that his shabby clothes would now be soaking wet. But someone was watching, still and silent, taking it all in, squinting his eyes at the faces and making sure that who he saw was who he thought he knew.
All the while, the treasure seekers made their every move without speaking a single word. Each was fully aware that should they speak and alert the house, they would jeopardize everything.
After all, they were about to uncover the greatest secret that Crampton Rock had ever kept.
MacDowell fished around in the half-dark. He had left his crowbar by mistake the previous night, and finally found it propped up against the wall. He was certain he hadn't left it there, but he grabbed hold of it and began to lever up the flagstone in the corner.
Sure enough, by the light of Stanley's candle the deep void of the well could be seen. Yes, it was dark and damp, but it led somewhere. A flight of steps led down through the narrow opening.
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