DEEP DOWN

CHAPTER ONE.

BEGINS THE STORY WITH A PECULIAR MEETING.

Necessity is the mother of invention. This is undoubtedly true, but it
is equally true that invention is not the only member of necessity's
large family. Change of scene and circumstance are also among her
children. It was necessity that gave birth to the resolve to travel to
the end of the earth--of English earth at all events--in search of
fortune, which swelled the bosom of yonder tall, well-favoured youth,
who, seated uncomfortably on the top of that clumsy public conveyance,
drives up Market-Jew Street in the ancient town of Penzance. Yes,
necessity--stern necessity, as she is sometimes called--drove that youth
into Cornwall, and thus was the originating cause of that wonderful
series of events which ultimately led to his attaining--but hold! Let
us begin at the beginning.

It was a beautiful morning in June, in that period of the world's
history which is ambiguously styled "Once-upon-a-time," when the
"Kittereen"--the clumsy vehicle above referred to--rumbled up to the
Star Inn and stopped there. The tall, well-favoured youth leapt at once
to the ground, and entered the inn with the air of a man who owned at
least the half of the county, although his much-worn grey shooting
costume and single unpretentious portmanteau did not indicate either
unusual wealth or exalted station.

In an off-hand hearty way, he announced to landlord, waiters,
chambermaids, and hangers-on, to all, indeed, who might choose to
listen, that the weather was glorious, that coaches of all kinds,
especially Kittereens, were detestable machines of torture, and that he
meant to perform the remainder of his journey on foot.

He inquired the way to the town of St. Just, ordered his luggage to be
forwarded by coach or cart, and, with nothing but a stout oaken cudgel
to encumber him, set out on his walk of about seven miles, with the
determination of compensating himself for previous hours of forced
inaction and constraint by ignoring roads and crossing the country like
an Irish fox-hunter.

Acting on the presumptuous belief that he could find his way to any part
of the world with the smallest amount of direction, he naturally missed
the right road at the outset, and instead of taking the road to St.
Just, pursued that which leads to the Land's End.

The youth, as we have observed, was well-favoured. Tall,
broad-shouldered, deep-chested, and athletic, with an active step, erect
gait, and clear laughing eye, he was one whom a recruiting-sergeant in
the Guards would have looked upon with a covetous sigh. Smooth fair
cheeks and chin told that boyhood was scarce out of sight behind, and an
undeniable _some thing_ on the upper lip declared that manhood was not
far in advance.

Like most people in what may be termed an uncertain stage of existence,
our hero exhibited a variety of apparent contradictions.