Read The Smugglers' Mine Online
Authors: Chris Mould
The Smugglers' Mine (5 page)
“After you then, Stanley, Daisy,” MacDowell whispered. Then he followed them into the void, leaving the basement in emptiness until they returned.
Or so they thought. But in the corner, where they themselves had hidden from Berkeley the previous night, two moonlike eyes shone in the darkness. And when the treasure seekers had disappeared into the uncertainty of the black hole, a small figure stepped out into the open and poked its inquisitive head down the well.
Deep down and farther in, the three treasure seekers squinted into the darkness ahead. Daisy stood beside Stanley, eyeing the rough
wall of the hollow. She moved closer, shoving past him.
wall of the hollow. She moved closer, shoving past him.
“Stanley, bring your candle up to the wall,” she said. She placed her hand against the coarse surface. As the light came nearer, the rock face twinkled in the dark.
Three faces leered up close and gasped in astonishment. Stanley raked the candle along the wall, and it was the same as far as they could see: small splinters of gold embedded into the rock. On and on and on. And old, fragmented skeletons of desperate pirates, open-mouthed skulls, bones clutching tightly to chests of rotting wood. Some had blades tucked inside their ribs, and others had severed limbs. There was no doubt that many a battle had been fought on the Rock.
They looked ahead to where the passage grew narrow again.
As they walked on, it tailed off into more little tunnels. On they went, this way, that way, upwards, downwards, sideways. Long honeycombed networks of passageways all littered with jeweled stones for as far as they could see.
The three buccaneers were speechless. Save for a few gasps of wonderment, they barely managed to speak to one another.
MacDowell broke the silence. “Wallopin' weevils! I ain't never laid eyes on such a treat in all me days. The devil sure was full of 'imself the day he put this place together. It's enough to turn any sane man into the worst of sea dogs.”
Stanley didn't have a clue what MacDowell was saying.
“This ain't no ordinary find, Stanley. Yer need to keep this one firmly under yer hat.
There's serious consequences in this gettin' out in the open.”
There's serious consequences in this gettin' out in the open.”
“What do you mean by that?” Daisy asked.
“Listen now,” he began, “and listen good. This ain't no buried treasure we're lookin' at. Oh no, this is a gold mine. A place where gold occurs naturally in the rock. Where it's dug from in the first place. Are yer with me?”
“Aye, captain,” said Stanley. “I'm with you.”
“Daisy?”
“Aye, aye, sir.”
“If this 'ere secret creeps outside o' this old mine, you can kiss good-bye to Candlestick Hall and every other thing in sight. If ever yer needed to keep a secret, me dears, this'll be it.”
“I'm not sure what you're saying,” quizzed Daisy as she squinted through the darkness.
“Well, pin yer ears back now and take heed.
If the rest o' the pirate world gets to know that Crampton Rock is hiding a gold mine, they'll be here in a flash. Them and every gold prospector that ever lived, chinking away at these hollows until every last little piece has been claimed. And when that's been done, this whole island will collapse under the strain and you'd better find another Rock to put down your roots in.”
If the rest o' the pirate world gets to know that Crampton Rock is hiding a gold mine, they'll be here in a flash. Them and every gold prospector that ever lived, chinking away at these hollows until every last little piece has been claimed. And when that's been done, this whole island will collapse under the strain and you'd better find another Rock to put down your roots in.”
Stanley stared at Daisy and she stared back at him. Their wide grins had turned into serious expressions at the thought of what might come.
They turned back and tiptoed out through the mine, back out into the cellar, replacing the stone flag in its place ⦠where just ahead of them, the watchful eyes sneaked away unseen.
Desperate Measures
Edmund Darkling awoke in his cell. The same four walls were still around him. He had been here for only a short space of time, but frustration and desperation had already taken their toll. He was not prepared to give in to this dreadful life of half-existence when he knew there was a way out.
That night Grace Darkling came to visit,
with the children following at her heels. She was allowed a short while to sit with her husband, but usually before the conversation had even begun they were herded back out into the street.
with the children following at her heels. She was allowed a short while to sit with her husband, but usually before the conversation had even begun they were herded back out into the street.
“Grace, I am at my wits' end,” declared Mr. Darkling. “I need to walk outside under the moonlight. I need to feel the earth beneath my feet. My children will grow up outside these walls and I will be confined inside them. I'm sorry, Grace, but I must make my escape in the only way I know how.”
“No, Edmund, please. Wait. There is another way, I'm sure. We can make a plea to the court. They may show some leniency if we wait a while,” Grace begged.
“There is no other way. Prepare yourself; you will not see me in here again after tonight.”
Moments later, Mrs. Darkling was dragged
in tears to the door of the jailhouse. She stole through the village under the moonlight, with the children trailing behind her.
in tears to the door of the jailhouse. She stole through the village under the moonlight, with the children trailing behind her.
Stanley was tucked up in his bed, trying to drop off to sleep. The image of the gold mine had stayed with him all afternoon, and he could barely contain his excitement. But he knew MacDowell was right, it was a secret that must never escape. It would put the Rock at risk, and the cost would be too great.
Each of the treasure seekers had made a promise: that they would never, as long as they lived, take a single piece of gold from beneath the surface of Crampton Rock.
The slab of stone was put back in place, and the secret was safe again.
Stanley worried that this great secret would wheedle its way out. And if it did, it would be his fault. He climbed out of bed and walked to the window, rubbing his eyes. He could see the brim of the ocean lapping up against the harbor. The tide was in and he knew that no one could get into the mines right now.
And he knew that every time he looked out to sea he would think of the mines, with their long honeycombed trails lying beneath Crampton Rock like a huge beehive. Whenever the tide was out he would feel nervous.
And what if someone found their way in? There must be at least one way in from the cliffs, thought Stanley. Sure, it might not be big enough for someone to creep through, but nonetheless it preyed on his mind.
“Arrrrrghhhhhhoooooooooooooo w w w l,” came an unearthly cry through the air as Stanley stared into the darkness.
His heart thundered.
He had heard that cry before. But surely he hadn't heard what he
thought
he had heard.
thought
he had heard.
“Aaaoooooooooooooooooooooo,” it came again. Only this time clearer, almost as if the howler was getting stronger and finding his voice. It rang through the night, and spots of light appeared in a few of the houses as candles were lit and curtains pulled back.
And then Stanley was sure, absolutely sure, that he saw something long and black and slender slinking through the village.
He rubbed his eyes again. “I'm dreaming,” he murmured, and climbed back into bed.
As he slept the noise continued, and Stanley dreamed of the wolf's return. He was following the great beast, pursuing it through the smugglers' mines, pushing through the long dark tunnels, and thundering over the rocks and stones. But he was too late. The wolf had got there first, and taken hold of someone or something. A great moan echoed out across the Rock.
Stanley woke with a start. Silence reigned. The night was still.
In the end he must have drifted back to sleep, but it felt to Stanley like he'd been up all night.
A loud knock at the door disturbed him. He looked at the old clock by his bedside and saw that it was early. Mrs. Carelli was calling to him.
“Stanley! Stanley! Can you come down, lad,” she cried in a soft voice. Something was wrong. He leapt up and jumped quickly into his clothes, blustering down the stairs.
His good friend Bartley and the old lady Greta were there, from the gypsy camp out on the moor.
“Sit down, Stanley,” instructed Mrs. Carelli. But he stayed standing and stared at their serious expressions.
No one smiled or exchanged pleasantries. It was too early for a social call and that meant only one thing.
Bad news!
“What is it?” Stanley asked.
“It's my brother Phinn,” Bartley began. “Something took him in the night, lad. Something beastly. It looks like the curse of the werewolf has returned to the island.”
Stanley felt sick. He asked them to tell him once more, so that he could be sure he heard them, though there was nothing else on earth that could have sounded worse to his ears.
A wave of dizziness came over him and Mrs. Carelli gently took his shoulders and put him in a chair.
“No!” cried Stanley.
“Not Phinn. Are you sure?” And then the previous night came flooding back to him. The strange howl, the lights in the windows, the black shape slinking through the village.
He'd been right. He really
had
seen it.
had
seen it.
“Phinn was returning from the inn alone,” explained Bartley. “We had taken a drink together, and returned separately. Not for any real reasonâI was talking with some of the fishermen and agreed to catch up with him on the moor. But when I did, it was too late.”
Bartley dropped his head and hid the tears that were rolling down his cheeks.
Only a stone's throw from where they sat in tears remembering their good friend Phinn, a commotion was bubbling in the jailhouse. The prison warder was inspecting the cells. Mostly they were empty, save for the odd short-term visitor. But at the far end lay the cell where Edmund Darkling had been condemned to spend the rest of his days.
The warder turned the long key in the lock, pushed down the handle, and opened the doorâthen looked on in astonishment as he saw that the cell was empty. The bars of the window had somehow been twisted and broken to force an opening.
And in the far corner of the room, a pair of shoes and a pile of torn and tattered clothing were the only signs that Edmund Darkling had ever even been there.
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