Menhardoc | Page 3

George Manville Fenn
dark misty purple in the hollows. The
surface was perfectly smooth, not a breath of air coming from the land
to dimple the long gentle heaving of the ebbing tide. Here and there the
dark luggers, with their duck-shaped hulls and cinnamon-brown sails,
stood out clear in the morning sunshine; while others that had not
reached the harbour were fast to the small tub buoys; and again others
that had not heeded the warnings of the threatened storm were only
now creeping in, looking strange and mysterious, half-hidden as they
were by the veil of mist that now opened, now closed and completely
blotted them from the sight of those in the harbour.
It was a wild-looking place, the little fishing town nestling on the cliff,
with the grey granite rocks piled-up behind and spreading to east and
west like cyclopean walls, built in regular layers by the giants of whom
Josh Helston had told. The wonder was that in some north-east gale the

little fleet of fishing vessels was not dashed to pieces by the huge
breakers that came tearing in, to leap against the rocks and fall back
with a sullen roar amidst the great boulders. And one storm would have
been enough, but for the harbour, into which, like so many sea-birds,
the luggers huddled together; while the great granite wall curved round
them like a stout protective arm thrust out by the land, and against
which the waves beat themselves to spray.
It was a wild but singularly attractive view from Peter Churchtown, for
the simple Cornish folk did not trouble themselves to say "Saint," but
invariably added to every village that boasted a church the name of
churchtown. High above it, perched upon the steepest spots, were the
tall engine-houses of the tin and copper mines, one of which could be
seen, too, half-way down the cliff, a few hundred yards from the
harbour; and here the galleries from whence the ore was blasted and
picked ran far below the sea. In fact it was said that in the pursuit of the
lode of valuable ore the company would mine their way till they met
the work-people of the Great Ruddock Mine over on the other side of
the bay, beyond the lighthouse through the curve of the shore.
As the mist lifted from where it had half-hidden the tall lighthouse,
with its base of black rocks, against which the sea never ceased
breaking in creamy foam, a boat could be seen on its way to a large
black, mastless vessel, moored head and stern with heavy chains, and
looking quite deserted in the morning light.
"There they go off to work, Josh," exclaimed Will suddenly.
"Well, and you're off to work too," said Josh gruffly, as he picked from
the net the half, of a pilchard, the tail portion having been bitten off by
some predatory fish, as it hung helplessly by its gills. "Them hake have
been having a nice game wi' the fish to-night."
As he spoke he picked out another and another half pilchard, and threw
them as far as he could, when, almost as each piece touched the water,
a soft-looking grey gull swept down and caught it from the surface with
its strong beak, uttering a low peevish-sounding wail as it swept up
again, hardly seeming to move its long white-lined wings.

"I should dearly like to go aboard the lighter and see what they are
doing," said Will eagerly.
"Paying attention to their work," said Josh sharply, "and that's what
you're not doing."
"I'm only a few fathoms behind you, Josh, and I shall be waiting
directly. I say, when we're done let's row aboard."
"I don't want to row aboard," said Josh sourly, but watching the
progress of the boat the while.
"They've got regular diving things there, Josh, and an air-engine; and
the men go down. I should like to have a look."
"What are they going down for?" said Josh; "looking for oyster-beds?"
"No, no. Trelynn Mine is like to be flooded by the water that comes in
from one of the galleries under the sea, and the divers go down to try
and find the place where it gets in, and stop it with clay and cement."
"Humph! are they going to find it, d'yer think?"
"Yes, I believe so. They measure so exactly that they can put a boat
right over the place. I say, Josh, shouldn't you like to go down?"
"What! dive down?"
"Yes."
"I should just think not, indeed. A man's place is in a boat floating atop
of the water, and not going underneath. If man was meant to go
underneath he'd have gills and fins and scales, same as these here
pilchar's."
"Oh, yes, I know all that; but only
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