Tom Tiddler's Island by J J Connington

Author:J J Connington [Connington, J J]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

“Here I stand on Tom Tiddler’s Ground,

Picking up gold and silver.”

He broke off abruptly, struck by the accuracy of the parallel. He himself had stood on Tom Tiddler’s Ground picking up gold not so long ago—and it was no mere metaphor. There was the gold brick.

Northfleet also seemed to recognise an aptness in the nickname.

“Tom Tiddler’s Ground?” he echoed. “That’s not bad, Trent. I can tell you this much. The Heather Lodge lot are making money on Ruff a—big money. It’s Tom Tiddler’s Ground for them, at anyrate.”

An earlier speculation of his own flashed back into Colin’s mind.

“Placer mining!” he ejaculated.

Northfleet shook his head decidedly.

“That notion won’t wash,” he said bluntly. “In the first place, there isn’t a stream longer than half a mile in Ruffa. You’d never find placer deposits in them. Secondly, I’ve been over every inch of the island, bar the Heather Lodge grounds, and there’s no sign of any workings—no digging, no cradles, nothing. Thirdly, these fellows keep to Heather Lodge, except when they take the dog for a walk. I’d have seen them if they’d been working a deposit. No, you can dismiss that notion.”

Colin was downcast for a moment, but a fresh idea came to his aid.

“Hold on, though! Suppose an alluvial deposit got buried by a cave-in of the banks of an old river. The gold would be underground, then. What about that subterranean tunnel? Might be some stuff down there. I mean, we don’t know anything about it beyond the bricked-up part. The Heather Lodge lot may have found a deposit near their end and dug an adit into it from the tunnel. Then they could dig away as they pleased, underground, and you’d be no wiser.”

“The streams here are too short.”

Northfleet reiterated his objection in a slightly impatient tone. But Colin had an answer ready.

“Yes, if Ruffa had been an island from the Creation onwards. But it was part of the mainland once, I guess. The gold may have been laid down then, when there was plenty of room for a river. After that, the land round about may have submerged and left Ruffa sticking up.”

“I see you’re set on that explanation. Don’t let me disturb your mind,” Northfleet begged ironically. “Divert your attention for a moment and I’ll show you something. See that big white motor-launch in the offing yonder? She’s the Heather Lodge supply-boat. See! She’s coming up in our direction hand over fist.”

Colin followed Northfleet’s gesture and saw the white hull of the visitor cutting through the waves in the distance. For a moment the sun gleamed dazzlingly on the windows of the cabin as the vessel changed her course by a point or two.

“I’ve never seen her before,” Colin said, as he watched the swift approach of the vessel. “Fairish size, she is. Could stand up to weather not badly. Not a bad turn of speed, either. Does she call here often, in the usual run?”

“Irregularly. She was here last week.”

“Last week? I never saw her,” Colin objected.

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