“Let’s try the smithy first,” I said to Nana, “since that’s where Da was heading when he told you to get to the still house.”
Nana agreed, and we both headed to the smithy. I opened the shutters up so we would have some light and began to look around. The smithy looked like it always did, except the fire was out and the bellows were still. Da had hardly been gone a day, but the place looked abandoned and forlorn to me. Maybe I was putting my feelings on the smithy rather than the other way around.
I remembered that the small x on the map for the smithy was in the back left corner. It seemed just the same to me. Nothing had been moved, nothing was different. The back wall of the smithy had a waist-high counter that ran the length of it. Under the counter were shelves that held a variety of tools, scrap metal, rags, buckets, half-finished projects, and organized clutter. The back left corner was no different than the rest of the back wall. The lower shelf on that section held a large wooden tub filled with rags and scraps of leather. The top shelf held boxes of small items Da made, like door latches, hinges, hooks and eyes, metal rings for horse tack, to mention a few. The top of the counter had various tools laid out. Why would there be a small x on the map marked here?
I walked over to the back left corner, and Nana followed closely behind. We both looked at the countertop, but it looked the same as always. I knelt down and took boxes off the first shelf. Once they had been removed, all that was left was a bare shelf covered with dust and the remnants of a spider’s web.
“Nana, would you help me move the wooden tub? It’s a bit awkward to move by myself.”
Nana knelt down, and we both reached for the rope handles to pull the tub and lift it off the shelf. It did not budge. We pulled harder, and it still did not move.
“That’s odd,” Nana said. “It doesn’t seem stuck on anything. You reach around your side, and I’ll reach around mine to see if anything is keeping the tub from moving.”
“Nothing on my side,” I told her.
“Nothing here either.”
We pulled, and pushed, tugged harder, and even tried to lift the tub to no avail. Since there was little clearance between the top of the tub and the bottom of the shelf above, we could not look inside. Nana then began to empty the tub of rags, scraps of leather, odd bits of old clothing, and I placed them on the first shelf. Once the tub was empty, I reached inside and felt around. At first, I felt nothing, just the smooth wood of the inside of the tub, nothing on the bottom of the tub or along the sides. I was just about to give up when I felt a small indentation halfway up the front inside of the tub. I felt metal. I stuck my finger in the opening and a ring flipped out. I tugged on it and smacked my hand on the bottom side of the shelf above when the ring slid smoothly upward.
“Ooh, that stings,” I said as I stuck my scraped knuckle in my mouth. I looked at the top of the wooden tub, and there sticking above the rim of the tub, was a metal piece.
“That looks like a latch, don’t you think?” said Nana.
She was right. It did look like one of the latches Da made for door locks. Without speaking, we both had the same idea at the same time. We grabbed the rope handles, pulled, and landed on our backsides when the tub and shelf swung out on well-oiled hinges. What a clever design. Where the shelf had been was an opening just large enough for a medium-sized body to fit through.
“I’ll go fetch a light,” stated Nana.
While she was gone, I felt around in the hole and discovered that there was a ladder attached to the front side of the opening. I would have to go feet first, hang over the edge with my feet dangling, and try to find a rung of the ladder without seeing what I was doing. I was not looking forward to dangling my body over a hole when I did not know what was down there or how far down it was, but I did not think I should ask Nana to do it. She is not as agile as I am, and her head was still hurting from her fall. No, it was going to be me. Nana finally returned with not only the lantern but a small pack.
“I thought you might need more than the lantern,” she said. “I put some candles, matches, and a few other useful items in the pack. I also brought your warm sweater. It will probably be cold down there.”
“Thanks, Nana. I’ve been thinking. If the map from Da is accurate, this entrance should lead to a way to get to the well in the root cellar. Would you open the trap door and listen for me?”
“Of course. If I don’t hear from you in a decent amount of time, I’m coming down after you. You be careful.”
“Always,” I said as I lay flat on the floor of the smithy and slid my legs into the opening. Then I was dangling at the waist, half out of the hole and half in the hole, thinking I would rather be mucking out the horse stalls than doing this. I groped around with my left foot until it found a rung on the ladder and tested it carefully. It held so I placed my right foot on the rung. Cautiously, I move my left foot down to the next rung and tested it. It felt solid. I slung the pack over my shoulder, and Nana tied a rope on the handle of the lantern, preparing to lower it down after me. I needed both hands to keep myself on the ladder.
I began to count the rungs, five, six, seven, and so on. At fifteen, I became concerned. I am not all that fond of heights nor enclosed places, so as the sweat began to run down my back and my palms became clammy, which was not helping me hold on to the rungs, I became worried that this hole I was in was going nowhere but down. Suddenly my right foot hit solid rock.
“Nana, can you hear me?” I called up the shaft.
“Loud and clear. Are you alright?”
“I’m on solid ground. Can you lower the lantern?”
Nana lowered the lantern, and as it lit up the shaft I had come down, I saw I was in a natural hole that had been enlarged in places. Fissures are pretty common near the sea. Some think the wave action over time has helped form them. Once the lantern was in my hands, Nana dropped the rope, suggesting I might need it. I untied the lantern, coiled the rope, tucked it in my pack, and held the lantern up to get my bearings. A small opening led off in what seemed like it could be the direction of the cottage. I called up to Nana that I hoped I was heading towards the cottage and the root cellar well and would call up to her from there. She again cautioned care and left to meet me.
The tunnel I entered was low enough that I had to duck. I tried to imagine Da in it and thought he must have had to crawl through. I looked at the floor, and in the dust I could see a hand print here and there amid places where it looked like cloth had been dragged, confirming my suspicions. After what I estimated to be ten to fifteen feet, the tunnel became both taller and widened a bit. It was cool in the tunnel but reasonably dry. The rock was rough and this part of the tunnel appeared natural. The floor was uneven but fairly smooth. I think water must have run through here once.
Cobwebs were abundant. It is a good thing I am not squeamish about spiders for I would have been up that ladder so fast my shadow would have had to hurry to catch up. It seemed like I had been walking for a long time, but it was probably only minutes, when I came to a branch in the tunnel going off to the right. I got out the map and held it up to the lantern light. That tunnel to the right looked like it matched the line on the map that went to the stable. I continued ahead. The tunnel I was in took a curve to the left, and I noticed that the wall of the tunnel on my right was not natural but rather manmade of stones so closely fit together they had not needed to be mortared. Was this the well? Was there a door, an opening, a secret entrance? I looked at the wall, but I could see nothing obvious. Now what?
Finally, my brain kicked in, and I looked down and sure enough, there were footprints clearly showing in the thick dust on the floor. I followed them to the wall where it looked like someone, hopefully Da, had stood and shuffled his feet around in a small area. Nothing obvious appeared on the wall ahead of me, just a wall of well-fit-together stones. There must be some sort of latch. After all Da had managed to leave the puzzle box on the well cover after the strangers had come.
I began to run my hands over the wall, pushing at the stones. Up and down the columns of stones I went, but nothing seemed to move. I had started to worry because time was so hard to tell down here, and I was worried that Nana would try to come after me. I was just about to give up and head back when the rock I was pushing on suddenly moved inward, and there was a slight grating sound as a part of the wall moved outward into the tunnel. I poked my head through the opening and saw light. I realized that I was looking at the inside of the well. I looked up, and there was Nana holding a lantern aloft, looking down at me. To my left, I could see handholds cut into the side of the well, just to the left of the opening.
“Well, that surely explains how the puzzle box got onto the well cover, but it still doesn’t explain what happened to your Da,” Nana suggested.
“The tunnel goes on from here. I’m going to follow it. I passed by another branch that looked like it headed off towards the stables. Too bad there’s not one that leads to the still house, but then Da built that for you after we came. It’s much newer than the cottage and other buildings. I wonder how Da knew about the tunnels and why he didn’t tell us. Why don’t you go put the kettle on? I’m going to need something warm when I get out of these tunnels. It’s cooler here than it was near the smithy, and I swear I can smell the sea. See you in a bit.” I hope, I thought.
I closed the wall to the well back up and continued on, following the footprints. The tunnel began to slant downwards, and the air became moister. The tunnel then turned back almost on itself and continued down. This turning and downward pattern continued on through six more turns and reminded me of a switchback trail in the hills. When the tunnel ended, it opened out into a small cave. The floor of the cave was sandy and held a few old broken barrels, a couple of smashed-in crates, and a fairly new-looking chest. I knew I would need to come back and see what, if anything, was in the chest, but on the opposite side of the cave the tunnel continued, so I went forward.
Just inside the tunnel was a short landing and stairs leading down again. It was so cold I could see my breath, and the stone steps were wet with moisture. A rope railing was fastened to the wall on my right. The rope looked fairly new, and when I pulled on it, well anchored. I grabbed the rope with my right hand and held the lantern aloft with my left. I started down the steps slowly, counting as I went. Forty-two steps later, I reached the bottom and could feel I was in a large space. It was then that I noticed that while not bright, there was light in this cavern. I set the lantern aside and just looked at what was before me.
I was standing on a ledge that looked like it was above the high tide mark. Opposite me was an opening in the cavern face that probably turned beyond the furthest point I could see. Just below me, down some shallow steps, was a floating dock, and from the looks of the condition of the wood, not an old dock. Had a boat been moored here? From the size of the opening I could see across the way, and depending on where it went, it was possible a small skiff could have been moored here. Was that how Da left? Erik Fishmaan had said two small boats had been seen leaving the cove on the day Da disappeared. If Da did leave by boat, was his the one that was racing south or the one heading out to sea?
I was not going to solve that mystery standing here, so I headed back up the stairs. When I got back to the small cave, I stopped to check out the chest. A padlock hung open, so I removed it and opened the chest. There was nothing inside. At least at first glance, it looked like there was nothing inside, but I noticed what looked like a scrap of cloth in the back right corner. I tried to pick it up, but it was snagged. I pulled on it, and the bottom of the chest came up with the cloth. Below the false bottom was a bundle wrapped in oilcloth. I picked it up, put it in my pack, and headed back up the tunnel.
The way back went faster than the way down. My heart almost failed me when I approached the well, and a shadow moved. It was Nana.
“Mercy,” I exclaimed, “you scared the daylights out of me.”
Nana almost looked contrite as she explained she did not want me to have all of the adventures and had found the opening to the tunnel system in the stable.
“And very cleverly it was hidden too. A panel in the tack room, the one you hang the harnesses on, swings open if you pull on the third hook and then twist it to the left. I found the latch purely by persistence and mistake. Let’s head back that way. It’s not a difficult exit. It has steep stairs but is certainly easier to get in and out of compared to the smithy or the well. I’m sure your Da didn’t create this. The whole underground tunnel system seems older than our time here. I wonder who built it and why. I’ve heard tell that smugglers worked this coast years ago. That may explain it, but it still leaves more questions than answers.”
Nana was right, of course. Even if the tunnels had been created by smugglers that still did not explain how Da knew about them, or why he had not told us. Had he had a boat tied up to the dock in the sea cave, and why? I had no answers. At that point we had arrived at the bottom of the steep stairway leading up to the stable. Nana went first, lifted a latch and the wall panel swung open. We stepped through to the tack room and closed the panel behind us.
“I’m going to go close up the opening in the smithy, and I’ll be right in,” I told Nana.
I slowly walked to the smithy. So many thoughts were going through my head, most of them beginning with the word “why”. It did not take me long to refill the tub with the scraps of cloth and leather, push it back, and put the boxes back on the top shelf. Once that was done, nothing looked out of place. I do not think anyone would guess the tub full of cleaning rags hid a secret opening into a network of underground tunnels.
When I got back inside, I remembered the oilcloth-wrapped package I had found in the false bottom of the chest in the cave. I sat down at the kitchen table and unwrapped it. Inside were two small, well-used, leather bound journals. As I opened the first one, a memory came flashing back to me of Mother, Da, and I sitting close together at the table in the homewagon, rain pounding on the roof. You could smell the pine from the trees we were camped next to through the slightly opened window, and also a hint of smoke coming from the smoldering cook fire we had abandoned when the rain had begun quite suddenly. Mother was mending one of my shirts, I was working on some type of carving, and Da was writing in the journal. I remember how he stuck out the tip of his tongue when he concentrated on writing. What I would not give to have them both at the table with me now.
I spent the rest of the day pouring over Da’s journal writings, only some of which I could decipher. He used a lot of abbreviations which meant little to me, but he also included very useful information about spots we had liked to overnight at, good locations at markets and fairs, some folks and places to avoid. In addition he had noted other useful tidbits like merchants he had found fair or who had good quality goods. I did not realize how late it had become when Nana reminded me that I had better head into the village and see if the fishers had learned anything new. I put the journals away and walked into the village.
The pub is a low-slung building on the eastern square of the village. It has a front entrance facing the village green and a back entrance leading out to the stable. The front part of the building housed the main room of the pub, and the back part was divided into three parts: the kitchen, several guest rooms for travelers, and the rooms reserved for Thomas and his family. Thomas’ pub was really the central meeting place of the village, and this night it was as crowded as usual.
Called the “Leeward Inn” according to the sign swinging above the door, the pub is made of local stone and timber. Inside a warm fire crackled and snapped in the large fireplace occasionally sending a puff of smoke towards the smoke blackened rafters. Folks were gathered around the rough-hewn wooden tables, tipped back on chairs, or seated side by side on benches. Conversation and laughter filled the air along with the smells of roasted meat, spilled ale, raw fish and brine, and warm sea-dampened wool. I looked across the room and saw Thomas behind the bar. As I moved further into the room, folks greeted me and inquired about Da. They were kind in their manner, but I had no new news for them. Thomas motioned me over and pointed towards a corner where Erik Fishmaan sat with a few others of the fishers.
“Go talk to Erik,” Thomas said. “They found somethin’ this day.”
I tried to read Thomas’ face to see if what I was about to learn was good or bad news, but his face gave me no clue. I turned and headed to the corner with some trepidation.
“Thomas said you had some information,” I said to Erik.
“Aye, lass, sit yerself down here so we can have a quiet talk. Just pull a chair up, there’s a good gel.”
The other fishers moved slightly apart so I could move a chair in, and I sat down and waited for Erik to talk to me.
“Jens here was fishin’ south of here along the shore by Dragon’s Teeth rocks. Ya know the place?”
“I’ve heard about it, but I’ve never been there. It’s about a quarter day’s sail south, isn’t it?” I replied.
“Ah yup,” Jens answered. “Don’t normally fish there but heard the bluenoses were runnin’ in close to shore, and since it was a calm day, decided to check it out. Gettin’ good coin for bluenoses these days. Wouldn’t want to fish near the Dragon’s Teeth most days, but it was worth the risk this day. Saw somethin’.”
I held my breath. Jens fiddled with his pipe, set it down, took a swig of his ale, scratched his whiskery chin, and just as I was about to reach over the table and shake him, he finally started speaking again.
“Saw a wreck of a small boat. Looked like it was thrown up on the Teeth and smashed. No one can remember it bein’ there last week. I asked ‘round. Could’ve been one of the two was seen leavin’ the cove the day your Da went missin’. Hard to tell though. Don’t know if’n this information helps or makes things worse.”