The Scouts of Seal Island Read online

  CHAPTER V

  THE ARRIVAL

  IT was four o'clock in the afternoon when the Scouts detrained atWadebridge, the termination of their railway journey. Seven miles ofhilly country separated them from the village of Polkerwyck. Theafternoon was hot and sultry, there was no wind to cool the heatedatmosphere; but braced up by the attractiveness of their novelsurroundings the lads thought lightly of their march.

  By some unexplained means the news of their impending arrivalforestalled them, and at the station two Cornish troops, with drumand fife bands, awaited them. With typical kind-heartedness theirwest country brother-Scouts regaled their London visitors with tea,Cornish cream, pasties and other delicacies for which the Duchy isnoted, while to still further perform their good turns they insistedupon dragging the camping party's trek-cart for nearly five miles.

  It was a delicious march. Everything seemed strange to the visitingScouts, and novelty was one of the chief delights of the holiday. Thewild, moorland country, the quaint stone cottages, stone walls inplace of hedges, the broad yet attractive dialect of the villagers,and last but not least their wholehearted hospitality, filled thelads with unbounded delight, while Mr Trematon, being in his nativecounty, was as enthusiastic and light-hearted as his youthfulcompanions.

  The shadows were lengthening as the "Otters" and the "Wolves"breasted the last hill. The lads had relapsed into comparativesilence. The strangeness of their surroundings so filled them withkeen joy that they could only march in subdued quietness and feasttheir eyes on the natural beauties of the country.

  Suddenly Fred Simpson, who headed the march, stopped, and, raisinghis stetson on the end of his staff, gave a mighty shout. His examplewas followed by the others as they gained the summit of the hillyroad. Almost beneath his feet, and extending as far as the eye couldsee, was the sea, bathed in all the reflected glory of the settingsun. Not one of the Scouts had previously seen the sun set in thesea: their knowledge of the seaside was confined to the Kentish andEssex coast towns where the orb of day appears to sink to rest behindthe inland hills.

  On either hand dark red cliffs cut the skyline, forming theextremities of Polkerwyck Bay. The headlands, fantastic in shape,reared themselves boldly to a height of nearly three hundred feet. Onthe easternmost point, appropriately named Beware Head, stood a tallgranite lighthouse, the stonework painted in red and black bands. Onthe western headland--Refuge Point--stood the white-washed houses ofthe coastguard station. Between the headlands was Polkerwyck Bay, thevillage giving it its name nestling on either side of a small tidalestuary, and enclosed by a gorge so narrow and so deep that theScouts imagined that they could throw a pebble from the road upon thestone roofs of the picturesque cottages.

  Of the estuary, and separated from the land by a stretch of deep bluewater, lay what appeared to be a small rock.

  "Where's Seal Island, sir?" asked Atherton, who was the first to findhis tongue.

  "There," replied the Scoutmaster, pointing to the rock.

  "Why, it's ever so small," cried several of the Scouts in a chorus.

  "Large enough for us, lads," replied Mr Trematon with a hearty laugh."Objects look deceptive when viewed from a height. Now, then, fallin! Sayers, Scott, Pat Coventry and Armstrong, follow the trek-cartwith the drag ropes. You will want to keep it well in check goingdown the hill. Patrols--quick march!"

  Down the zig-zag hill the Scouts made their way; at every step SealIsland seemed to get larger and larger, till at length the ladshalted in the main and only street of Polkerwyck, where they weresurrounded by all the available population: men, women and childrento the number of about eighty.

  "Welcome back to Polkerwyck, Mr Trematon, zur," exclaimed a hale,grey-headed fisherman, picturesquely attired in sou'wester (althoughthe day was hot), blue jersey, tanned canvas trousers, and heavysea-boots.

  "Thanks, Peter Varco," replied the Scoutmaster, heartily shaking theold man's hand. "I am glad to see you again. You look just the same."

  "Sure us old 'uns keep powerful hearty in these parts, Mr Trematon.Thanks be, I be middlin'. These be the Scouts, eh? Likely lads theybe, although I reckon as they bain't up to our Cornish lads, eh, MrTrematon? Squire's man, Roger Penwith, he comed down to see Iyesterday. Says 'e, 'Squire has written to say Mr Trematon's Scoutsare a' comin' to Seal Island, and Squire wants 'em looked afterprop'ly-like.' 'Trust I to do my part,' says I, and sure enow I havea-done. The _Pride of Polkerwyck_--you'll remember 'er, MrTrematon--is at your sarvice, an' the three small craft as well; sowhen you'm ready to go over along, them boats is ready."

  "Thank you, Varco," said the Scoutmaster. "The sooner we get to theIsland the better, for it is past sunset."

  "And Roger Penwith 'e 'as placed a load or two o' firewood closealongside the landin' place, Mr Trematon. Thought as 'ow you'd bewantin' it."

  "Good man, Mr Penwith!" ejaculated Mr Trematon. "We can find a placeto store this cart, I suppose?"

  "Sure there'll be a sight of room in yon hut," replied the fisherman.

  "Unload the trek-cart, lads," ordered the Scoutmaster. "Keep eachpatrol's belongings apart. Atherton, will you take charge of oneboat; Simpson, another; load the heavy gear into the third boat, andPhillips and Green will assist me in taking her across."

  Hither and thither the Scouts ran, each with a set purpose, while theon-lookers watched with admiration as the baggage was unloaded andthe trek-cart bundled at the double into the hut.

  "Have you a key to the door, Mr Varco?" asked Everest, withcharacteristic caution, after the cart had been housed.

  "Key, young man? What do 'e want wi' a key for, might I make so boldas to ax? Sure, us be all honest men in these parts," said Varco, ina tone of mingled reproof and pride.

  At length the three boats were manned, and the Scoutmaster gave theword to push off and give way. Thanks to his early training MrTrematon was thoroughly at home both on and in the water, and he haddeveloped particular pains to instruct his lads in the art ofmanaging a boat, till the style of the Collingwood College Scouts onthe Highgate Pond became a subject of envy to most of the othertroops in the district.

  It was a ripping row. The only fault that the Scouts had to find wasthat it was far too short. The water was as calm as a mill-pond,although a faint roar betokened the presence of the customaryground-swell on the shore beyond the bay.

  The Scouts landed in a sandy cove in the south-eastern side of theIsland, where a winding footpath, that showed little signs offrequent image, wound its way up in a zig-zag fashion to the higherground. The baggage was carried ashore, and the lads, having securedthe boats' painters, prepared to convey their goods to thecamping-place.

  "You are not going to leave the boats like that, are you?" asked MrTrematon.

  "Aren't they all right, sir?" said Leader Simpson, inquiringly. "Imade sure each painter was properly made fast with a clove-hitch,sir."

  "Yes, that's all very well, but it is not good enough. You forget therise of tide, which here exceeds fifteen feet at springs. Besides, itmight come on to blow in the night, and even though the Island issheltered from on-shore winds there would be sufficient swell tosmash the boats to splinters. We must haul them well above high-watermark."

  Back trooped the Scouts, and, taking up positions all round the firstboat, tried to drag her up the steep incline; but as soon as thecraft was clear of the water it was evident that the task was beyondthem. The boat was heavily built, and all hands could not lift herforward another inch.

  "Now what is to be done?" demanded Mr Trematon, with a view oftesting the Scouts' practical knowledge.

  "Put her on rollers, sir," suggested Jock Fraser.

  "A good idea, but where are the rollers?"

  "We can use our staves, sir."

  "And spoil them by the rubbing of the boat's iron-bound keel. Thatwould only be advisable in a case of necessity. To make use of theoars is open to a similar objection. Open that stern locker, Fraser.You'll find a powerful tackle there, if I'm not mistaken. Ah! Thereit is, and I can see a
post driven in on purpose for hauling boatsup."

  The upper block was soon placed in position, and Fraser was about tobend the painter to the lower block when the Scoutmaster again calledhim to order.

  "Won't do," he exclaimed. "You'll more than likely pull the stem outof her. Look at her forefoot, Fraser: do you see a hole bored throughit?"

  "Yes, sir," replied the Scout.

  "Very well, then. There's a short iron bar in the locker. Thrust thatthrough the hole and bend the block to it by this rope. That's it:now we can haul away, and the keel will take the strain. Four of youkeep the boat upright and the rest tail on to the tackle."

  By this means the heavy craft moved slowly arid surely, and was atlength hauled above the line of dead seaweed that denoted the levelof high-water spring tides. The remaining boats were treated in thesame way, and the Scouts were free to proceed to the camping-ground.

  Before ten o'clock the tents were pitched, a roaring camp fire threwits comforting glow upon the scene, and the two patrols werediscussing their hard-earned and frugal supper with commendableavidity that betokened a healthy mind in a healthy body.

  "Now, lads," exclaimed the Scoutmaster, as soon as the meal wasconcluded, "we must turn in. It has been a long day for us, and Idon't suppose the majority of you will sleep very soundly the firstnight under canvas. But no talking, mind. There is a time foreverything, and if talking is kept up those who might otherwise beable to sleep will be disturbed. Good-night!"