The Professor and the Smuggler Read online

  Carne sat on one of the stone benches outside the pub. He leaned forward to rest his forearms on his nervously jiggling legs. He hated Phillip facing Mitchell on his own, but he was ready to fly off his seat and into the tavern at the first sound of a punch being landed.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “I’ve drawn a likeness of the map from memory and my notes, and I’m fairly certain I’ve got every detail correct,” Phillip informed his contact, feeling rather like a spy in a novel. Mitchell leaned over the narrow table. Phillip could smell the alcohol on his breath, mingled unpleasantly with the aroma of fish. Gaze darting around at the other patrons, the man grabbed Phillip’s arm. “Don’t bring it out right here in front of everyone!”

  Phillip took his hand out of the satchel, empty. “I thought you wanted to see it. If I’m not to show it to you, why did we meet?”

  “Not here. Someplace more private.”

  “So you can attack me as you did my motorcar and then take it from me?”

  Mitchell’s heavy brows became one across the bridge of his nose. “What are you talking about?”

  “The damage done to my automobile last night. Someone sent me a warning message. I can only believe you had something to do with it.”

  “Why would I want you to leave? You have my map,” Mitchell pointed out. He didn’t sound like a man who was lying, and there was logic in his words.

  Phillip chose to believe him for the moment. Perhaps Mitchell the younger hadn’t been the culprit or even aware of the attack.

  “We may go outdoors, but I won’t go anywhere alone with you. I’m sorry not to trust your character, Mr. Mitchell, but you must see my point of view. After all, you did pull a knife on me last time we met. I’d be a fool to go far from other people in your company.”

  “Fine. Just outside, then.” Mitchell lurched upright, his seat scraping back.

  Phillip tossed a coin on the table, though he hadn’t yet had a drink, and rose. He followed Mitchell to the door, the pair of them drawing the attention of numerous gazes.

  “I must warn you, I’ve not come here alone,” Phillip told the man as they passed through the door. “I never promised you exclusive rights to the map.”

  “What…?” Mitchell broke off as he spotted Carne sitting outside. He glared at Carne, who scowled back. “Treleaven!”

  “I told you. I didn’t come here alone,” Phillip repeated. “I didn’t dare.”

  He rushed on before Mitchell could protest, enticing him with the idea of a treasure hunt. “What I’m about to share with you is for Carne’s eyes as well. But the three of us are the only ones who’ve seen this map since some incompetent librarian misfiled it over fifty years past. Since the man who drew the original was likely arrested in the raid, we may be the first to ever attempt to follow it.”

  “I didn’t even tell my tas,” Mitchell grumbled. “I was going to look on my own.”

  Phillip raised a hand to silence Carne before the man said something belligerent to tip the scales the wrong way. “Three heads are better than one for figuring out clues. I propose we go someplace more private and take a look. Perhaps one or the other of you, being so much more familiar with the topography, will be able to understand what area the map depicts.”

  “Topo…what?” Mitchell asked. “Just give me the bloody thing and let me take a look.”

  “Over there. Away from prying eyes.” Carne gestured to a copse of trees a short distance away.

  They reached a spot on the other side of the woodsy screen. As he took the map from his satchel, Phillip explained for Carne’s benefit about this being merely a reproduction of the original. “It was so fragile, one could hardly breathe on it without the parchment crumbling,” he said. “At the time, I jotted down in my notebook the words written on the document, and sketched a very small version of the map.”

  He unfolded the version he’d made the previous night. “Here’s a much larger representation.”

  Both Mitchell and Carne seized hold of it, their hands on either side, their dark heads bowing over the map as they studied it.

  Mitchell traced a line with one thick finger. “This’d be the inlet by Trennick’s place, I suppose, from the way it cuts in just there.”

  “That’s meant to be the giant.” Carne pointed to a doodle that hadn’t signified a blessed thing to Phillip when he drew it. Carne explained to Phillip, “See the head and the body? This is a boulder called a giant because…”

  “It’s shaped like a giant. I understand,” Phillip said.

  “Cormoran the Raider, who waded in from the sea to attack the villages and was turned to stone by a rune witch,” Mitchell added helpfully.

  “Ah, so that’s nearby, then, is it?” Phillip opened his notebook and began penciling notes. He’d heard of Cormoran and was even more excited that he’d soon see the stone.

  “What are you doing?” Mitchell snapped. “Are you writing about me?”

  “More likely about our giant,” said Carne, sounding amused.

  Mitchell shook the map he and Carne both held. “Get back to work, dammit.”

  “Certainly,” Phillip said absently. He finished jotting his note, then turned to the page to scan the text he’d found along with the map. “The list of items that went along with the map were written in a code or shorthand to keep the information obscure if it were found, as it was, by agents of the Crown. I spent many an hour studying it and believe I deciphered code. That’s one of my favorite pastimes.” He beamed at Carne. “It’s rather like a game I played as a boy in school.”

  “This ain’t a game. It’s business.” Mitchell grew more short-tempered—nervous?—by the minute.

  Phillip gave him a frown. “If I’m correct in my interpretation, we might find crates of brandy, bolts of silk, although those probably will have been destroyed by moisture and time, and perhaps even gold bullion or coins of some sort.”

  Mitchell whistled under his breath.

  “Something like that couldn’t stay hidden all these years,” Carne surrendered the map to Mitchell and faced Phillip. “Someone would’ve gone back for it. Or”—he grimaced—“’tis all a hoax.”

  Phillip frowned. “By whom? Who would go to such an effort to create a false map and a list of goods in code?” It abruptly struck him Carne might be referring to him, since he was the one who’d brought this information. Phillip wanted to protest he would never fabricate such a lie or set them off on a wild-goose chase, but realized it might not be prudent to plant the idea in short-fused Mitchell’s mind.

  Carne seemed to realize the same thing and said nothing more about a hoax. “Well, it seems fairly clear this map shows the area near Trennick’s cove. There are tunnels in that hill, a mine played out and abandoned before the newer mine opened.”

  Which was also defunct now. Phillip considered the industry that had once supported so many people. Tin mining had come and gone, leaving people in this far southern land to eke out a living however they could.

  “Shall we go to the old mine now and try to follow the other clues?” he asked.

  “We’ll need miner’s caps, picks, and shovels,” Carne said. “And I wouldn’t trust the condition of the supports. If they haven’t already collapsed, we might cause one to by poking around. Or there could be trapped gas.”

  “My family were miners long afore taking to the sea. I’ll go down on my own,” Mitchell started to fold up the map.

  “Don’t be daft,” Carne said. “The mine closed before you were old enough to work, or you’d know the first rule is never go exploring underground alone. Someplace long abandoned as this, it’s safer to have a crew, roped together, with one man ready to pull the others back or cut the line and go for help if things go wrong.”

  “Well, we don’t have a crew. There’s the three of us, and we’re not letting anyone else in on it. We swore.”

  They hadn’t done anything of the sort, but Phillip didn’t mention it. “Surely you can agree Carne’s right about getting pr
epared first. Besides, it’s rather late in the day. After gathering supplies, we could go in the morning.”

  Mitchell pointed back and forth between them. “And let you two get the jump on me and clear it out tonight? I think not. ’Tis always dark underground. Doesn’t matter if we’re there at night. I say get lanterns and tools and go right away.”

  “I’m not certain we should go at all,” Carne argued. “It’s not worth risking our lives.”

  “It is for gold! If it’s there, I mean to find it.” Mitchell had dug in and wasn’t going to change his mind. Their options were between leaving him to his own devices or helping him, and, truth be told, Phillip was quite excited to go on this remarkable adventure too.

  “It wouldn’t hurt to do a bit of exploration,” Phillip suggested to Carne. “If the tunnels seem in danger of collapsing, we’ll turn back.” He watched the man’s rugged face set in a position akin to granite and doubted Carne would agree.

  But abruptly, he nodded. “All right, then. A quick look to see what’s what. If it seems safe, we’ll return later.”

  They walked to the storage shed at the Par Gwynear pit and broke in to where miners’ gear had gathered dust for years. Phillip reminded himself to look up the date this particular mine had closed. He left his satchel of papers there, and it seemed a symbol of laying aside the studious professor he’d been in order to take on the role of a man of adventure.

  After outfitting themselves with caps, lanterns, and digging tools, another long trek took them to the entrance of the old mine several hills away.

  Broken boards marked the opening. A sign warned Keep Out, but probably youths sometimes went exploring there, perhaps thinking of their forefathers’ lives underground, or more likely seeking a private place to be with their lasses. But once Phillip entered the mine, that idea was quickly dispelled. The entry was cramped, dark, and dirty—hardly conducive to a tryst.

  The three men put on caps and lit the lamps above the bills. They also lit the lanterns they carried before starting down the main tunnel. Mitchell carried a shovel, Carne a pick, and Phillip a smaller spade and empty knapsack should they find anything worth taking.

  Carne insisted on leading the way. He told Phillip the air flow seemed good, but he wanted to be able to warn the others if it grew too stale. A man might pass out before realizing there was cause for worry.

  It was like entering a dream world, dark shadows and flickering light creating eerie shapes on the walls and hiding goblins behind every bend in the tunnel. Phillip understood why belief in local folklore was so strong. One could easily imagine misshapen, tunneling creatures lurking down here, ready to drive off humans come to steal their wealth. He shivered at the thought and at the thrill of actually being on a treasure hunt no longer stuff of old tales or novels. Phillip was at the center of a real life adventure.

  He glanced over his shoulder at Mitchell, whose wide face was a pale moon bobbing behind him.

  “What are you lookin’ at?” The moon glowered and squinted in the beam from Phillip’s cap.

  “Just making sure you’re all right and keeping up.”

  “I keep up just fine. Mind yer business.”

  Phillip hefted the spade, which grew heavier now that he’d carried it awhile, and faced forward. A good view there. Carne’s wide shoulders brushed the stone walls on either side. He, like Phillip, crouched slightly so his head wouldn’t hit the ceiling or any of the wooden supports they passed under. Carne had explained the mines here began as natural cave systems, but had been blasted and shoveled to widen them as the miners went deeper to find copper and tin. There were archways of wood so darkened by age, they appeared to have become a part of the rock.

  Phillip was so busy gazing around at the details picked out of the total darkness by his lights and filing away every aspect of this once-in-a-lifetime experience that it took him a few minutes to realize Carne’s big body, striding in front of him, was trembling. He hurried a few paces to catch up and said quietly, “Are you all right? Feeling light-headed?”

  “Fine,” Carne snapped.

  But when he glanced over his shoulder, the light on Phillip’s hat showed sweat shining on Carne’s pale face and his mouth was a grim line.

  “You don’t look fine. Are you short of breath? Should we turn back?”

  “What’s going on?” Mitchell called from the rear. “What are you two talking about?”

  “Nothing! Everything’s good,” Carne yelled, and his voice, rather than echoing in the tunnel, seemed muffled by the stone all around them.

  Phillip rested a hand on Carne’s back and felt the vibration in it and the quick rise and fall of his breathing. Fear. That was what filled Carne and caused him to quake. All in a rush, Phillip understood Carne didn’t do well in close spaces. Perhaps that was one reason he hadn’t been eager to go deeper into the caves they’d explored the other day. He was no miner, but a fisherman, and being underground apparently didn’t agree with him.

  “Might we take a rest?” Phillip asked. “There must be some wider spaces down here, chambers off the main tunnel.”

  “We’ve hardly gone a hundred yards,” Mitchell said. “I’ll carry the tiny spade for you if you can’t manage it, you great dobeck.”

  “There.” Phillip pointed to a darker area looming on the left, a cleft or opening in the rock. He patted Carne’s back. “Lead on, Captain, and we’ll take a breather.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Blood pounded in Carne’s temples. He knew his breathing was too fast and shallow, but he couldn’t seem to slow it down. His palms were slick with sweat, so the pickaxe slipped in his grip. He stumbled over a rock in his path as he peered ahead into the coal-black darkness, barely illuminated by his headlamp and lantern. All he could see was more rock ahead, pressing in from all sides, closing off air and burying him alive. It was all he could do to grit his teeth and put one foot in front of the other, let alone look for any sort of clues to a godforsaken treasure. Bear left at a rock that looks like a face? What sort of signpost was that? All the bulges of stones and the crannies between them could represent eyes, nose, ears, and mouth if a man used his imagination.

  Perhaps he should have mentioned to Phillip that he didn’t much care for small spaces before they started down here. But he hadn’t remembered how bad it was when he’d gone exploring here as a lad, or how anxious he’d feel at the thought of all the layers of earth and rock between him and freedom.

  Phillip’s voice broke through his near panic to ask if anything was wrong, then he suggested they take a break from walking and pointed out an entry on the left. His hand rested comfortingly on Carne’s lower back, nudging him toward the opening.

  Carne walked into a chamber where he could straighten his body. He felt space opening up around him and inhaled a tiny breath of fresher air, perhaps coming down some rocky fissure from the outside world. After all, they weren’t so very deep underground yet. It had merely felt that way to a man uncomfortable in narrow spaces.

  Carne took a few deep breaths and held up his lantern to illuminate the chamber. He nearly lost his breath again at the sight in front of him. A treasure trove indeed, but not one from generations past. There were several small wooden crates and one much larger one lying in the center of the rough-hewn chamber. They weren’t dirt-covered or moldy. In fact, he could still smell the sea on them. These crates had been placed here recently. Someone was using this long-forgotten place for storage.

  Phillip stumbled into the cavern, followed by Mitchell, and Carne’s hand tightened on the pick, ready to wield it if need be. “What is this, Mitchell?” he demanded. “Some sort of ambush? Are your father and Gwalather right behind us?”

  “What the bloody hell are you talking about?” Mitchell stared at the cartons. “What’s this?”

  “Crates,” Phillip answered easily. “But they don’t look old at all. I doubt this is the treasure the map referred…” He trailed off as if putting two and two together and coming up with smug
gler’s booty. He looked from Mitchell to Carne and again at the mysterious crates.

  “You think I have something to do with this?” Mitchell shouted. He strode to one of the smaller crates and started to pry it open with the tip of his shovel. The nails gave way with a screech, and the wooden top clattered open.

  Mitchell dropped to his knees and began pawing through the straw that cradled the contents. A moment later, he held his hand high, brandishing a golden watch.

  “That looks like a Cartier!” Phillip hurried over to examine it.

  “A what?” Mitchell surprisingly surrendered the object to Phillip before starting to scrabble through the packing straw and paper again.

  “A French jeweler. Some of his watches are valuable.”

  Carne lowered the pick and approached the others. It was obvious Mitchell knew nothing about the contents as the man pulled out a couple of fancy silver dishes and squinted at them.

  “Who’s been hoarding all this?” Mitchell sounded as if he were accusing them of being in collusion. “What is this stuff?”

  “A chafing dish and a christening cup,” Phillip identified the silver pieces.

  “Gwalather!” Mitchell bellowed. “That shite-eating, slimy, stinking arsehole. He’s had his own deal on the side.”

  “Deal with who?” Carne used the tip of his pick to pry open the largest box. The lid popped, and he pulled it aside to reveal canvas-wrapped parcels and paintings He peeled back the corner of one to see a gold frame and the vibrant colors of an oil painting. Stolen from some rich man’s walls, no doubt.

  “The bloody Frogs! Or one of them, anyway.” Mitchell withdrew a jewelry box and flung it open. Gold sparkled in the lantern light.

  Carne had nearly forgotten all about his nerves. The thought of being trapped in a stone coffin had lost its power at this unexpected discovery. And now he had Mitchell on the verge of confessing everything he and his elders had been up to.