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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/19751-h.zip b/19751-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..d91ff78 --- /dev/null +++ b/19751-h.zip diff --git a/19751-h/19751-h.htm b/19751-h/19751-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c0beb6d --- /dev/null +++ b/19751-h/19751-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,9566 @@ +<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> +<html> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1"> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Mayor of Troy, by Sir Arthur Thomas Quiller-Couch</title> +<style type="text/css"> + body {background:#fdfdfd; + color:black; + font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; + font-size: medium; + margin-top:100px; + margin-left:12%; + margin-right:12%; + text-align:justify; } + h1, h2, h3, h4, h5 {text-align: center; } + p {text-indent: 4%; } + p.noindent {text-indent: 0%; } + hr.full { width: 100%; + height: 5px; } + hr.narrow { width: 40%; + text-align: center; } + blockquote.footnote { font-size: small; } + .caption { font-size: small; + font-weight: bold; } + .center { text-align: center; } + .ind1 {margin-left: 1em; } + .ind2 {margin-left: 2em; } + .ind3 {margin-left: 3em; } + .ind4 {margin-left: 4em; } + .ind5 {margin-left: 5em; } + .ind6 {margin-left: 6em; } + .ind7 {margin-left: 7em; } + .ind8 {margin-left: 8em; } + .ind9 {margin-left: 9em; } + .ind10 {margin-left: 10em; } + .ind11 {margin-left: 11em; } + .ind12 {margin-left: 12em; } + .ind13 {margin-left: 13em; } + .ind14 {margin-left: 14em; } + .ind15 {margin-left: 15em; } + .ind16 {margin-left: 16em; } + .ind17 {margin-left: 17em; } + .ind18 {margin-left: 18em; } + .ind19 {margin-left: 19em; } + .ind20 {margin-left: 20em; } + .large {font-size: large; } + table { font-size: medium; } + a:link {color:blue; + text-decoration:none} + link {color:blue; + text-decoration:none} + a:visited {color:blue; + text-decoration:none} + a:hover {color:red} + pre {font-size: 75%;} +</style> +</head> +<body> +<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Mayor of Troy, by Sir Arthur Thomas +Quiller-Couch</h1> +<pre> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p>Title: The Mayor of Troy</p> +<p>Author: Sir Arthur Thomas Quiller-Couch</p> +<p>Release Date: November 10, 2006 [eBook #19751]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MAYOR OF TROY***</p> +<br><br><center><h3>E-text prepared by Lionel Sear</h3></center><br><br> +<hr class="full" noshade> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + +<h2>THE MAYOR OF TROY.</h2> +<h4>BY</h4> + +<h2>Arthur Thomas Quiller-Couch.</h2> +<br><br> +<h5>1906.</h5> +<h5>This e-text prepared from a reprint of a version published in 1906.</h5> +<br><br><br> + + +<h4>TO MY FRIEND</h4> +<h3>KENNETH GRAHAM</h3> +<h4>AND</h4> +<h4>THE REST OF THE CREW</h4> +<h4>OF THE</h4> +<h4>"RICHARD AND EMILY"</h4> +<h4>AND WITH APOLOGIES TO</h4> +<h4>THE MAYOR OF</h4> +<h3>LOSTWITHIEL</h3> +<h4>A BOROUGH</h4> +<h4>FOR WHICH I HAVE (WITH CAUSE)</h4> +<h4>MUCH AFFECTION AND</h4> +<h4>A VERY HIGH ESTEEM.</h4> +<br><br> +<br> +<br> + +<h2>CONTENTS.</h2> +<p> </p> +<center> +<table cellpadding="1"> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">Chapter </td> <td> </td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top"> </td> <td><a href="#1" >PROLOGUE</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">I. </td> <td><a href="#2" >OUR MAJOR.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">II. </td> <td><a href="#3" >OUR MAYOR.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">III. </td> <td><a href="#4" >THE MILLENIUM.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">IV. </td> <td><a href="#5" >HOW THE TROY GALLANTS<br>CHALLENGED THE LOOE DIEHARDS.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">V. </td> <td><a href="#6" >INTERFERENCE OF A GUERSEY MERCHANT.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">VI. </td> <td><a href="#7" >MALBROUCK S'EN VA.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">VII. </td> <td><a href="#8" >THE BATTLE OF TALLAND COVE.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">VIII. </td> <td><a href="#9" >"COME, MY CORRINNA, COME!"</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">IX. </td> <td><a href="#10" >BY LERRYN WATER.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">X. </td> <td><a href="#11" >GUNNER SOBEY TURNS LOOSE THE MILLENIUM.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XI. </td> <td><a href="#12" >THE MAJOR LEAVES US.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XII. </td> <td><a href="#13" >A COLD DOUCHE ON A HOT FIT.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XIII. </td> <td><a href="#14" >A VERY HOT PRESS.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XIV. </td> <td><a href="#15" >THE "VESUVIUS" BOMB.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XV. </td> <td><a href="#16" >UP-CHANNEL.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XVI. </td> <td><a href="#17" >FAREWELL TO ALBION!</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XVII. </td> <td><a href="#18" >MISSING!</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XVIII. </td> <td><a href="#19" >APOTHEOSIS.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XIX. </td> <td><a href="#20" >THE RETURN.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XX. </td> <td><a href="#21" >IN WHICH THE MAJOR LEARNS<br>THAT NO MAN IS NECESSARY.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XXI. </td> <td><a href="#22" >FACES IN WATER.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XXII. </td> <td><a href="#23" >WINDS UP WITH A MERRY-GO-ROUND.</a></td></tr> +</table> +</center> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<h2>THE MAYOR OF TROY.</h2> + + +<br> +<br> +<p><a name="1"></a> </p> +<h3>PROLOGUE.</h3> +<br> + + +<p> +Good wine needs no bush; but this story has to begin with an apology.</p> + +<p>Years ago I promised myself to write a treatise on the lost Mayors of +Cornwall—dignitaries whose pleasant fame is now night, recalled only +by some neat byword or proverb current in the Delectable (or as a +public speaker pronounced it the other day, the Dialectable) Duchy. +Thus you may hear of "the Mayor of Falmouth, who thanked God when the +town jail was enlarged"; "the Mayor of Market Jew, sitting in his own +light"; "the Mayor of Tregoney, who could read print upside-down, but +wasn't above being spoken to"; "the Mayor of Calenick, who walked +two miles to ride one"; "the Mayor of East Looe, who called the King +of England 'Brother.'" Everyone remembers the stately prose in which +Gibbon records when and how he determined on his great masterpiece, +when and how he completed it. "It was at Rome: on the 15th of +October, 1764, as I sat musing amidst the ruins of the Capitol, while +the bare-footed friars were singing vespers in the Temple of Jupiter, +that the idea of writing the Decline and Fall of the City first +started in my mind." So I could tell with circumstance when, where +and how I first proposed my treatise; and shall, perhaps, when I have +concluded it. But life is short; and for the while my readers may be +amused with an instalment.</p> + +<br><p> +Now of all the Mayors of Cornwall the one who most engaged my +speculation, yet for a long while baffled all research, was "the +Mayor of Troy, so popular that the town made him Ex-Mayor the year +following."</p> + +<p>Of course, if you don't know Troy, you will miss half the reason of +my eagerness. Simple, egregious, adorable town! Shall I go on here +to sing its praises? No; not yet.</p> + +<p>The reason why I could learn nothing concerning him is that, soon +after 1832, when the Reform Bill did away with Troy's Mayor and +Corporation, as well as with its two Members of Parliament, someone +made a bonfire of all the Borough records. O Alexandria! And the +man said at the time that he did it for fun!</p> + +<p>This brings me to yet another Mayor—the Mayor of Lestiddle, who is a +jolly good fellow.</p> + +<p>Nothing could be handsomer than my calling the Mayor of Lestiddle a +jolly good fellow; for in fact we live at daggers drawn. You must +know that Troy, a town of small population (two thousand or so) but +of great character and importance, stands at the mouth of a river +where it widens into a harbour singularly beautiful and frequented by +ships of all nations; and that seven miles up this river, by a bridge +where the salt tides cease, stands Lestiddle, a town of fewer +inhabitants and of no character or importance at all. Now why the +Reform Bill, which sheared Troy of its ancient dignities, should have +left Lestiddle's untouched, is a question no man can answer me; but +this I know, that its Mayor goes flourishing about with a silver mace +shaped like an oar, as a symbol of jurisdiction over our river from +its mouth (forsooth) so far inland as a pair of oxen yoked together +can be driven in its bed.</p> + +<p>He has, in fact, no such jurisdiction. Above bridge he may, an it +please him, drive his oxen up the riverbed, and welcome. I leave him +to the anglers he will discommodate by it. But his jurisdiction +below bridge was very properly taken from him by order of our late +Queen (whose memory be blessed!) in Council, and vested in the Troy +Harbour Commission. Now <i>I</i> am Chairman of that Commission, and yet +the fellow declines to yield up his silver oar! We in Troy feel +strongly about it. It is not for nothing (we hold) that when he or +his burgesses come down the river for a day's fishing the weather +invariably turns dirty. We mislike them even worse than a German +band—which brings us no worse, as a rule, than a spell of east wind.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, the Mayor of Lestiddle is a jolly good fellow, and I am +glad that his townsmen (such as they are) have re-elected him. +One day this last summer he came down to fish for mackerel at the +harbour's mouth, which can be done at anchor since our sardine +factory has taken to infringing the by-laws and discharging its offal +on the wrong side of the prescribed limit. (We Harbour Commissioners +have set our faces against this practice, but meanwhile it attracts +the fish.) It was raining, of course. Rowing close up to me, the +Mayor of Lestiddle asked—for we observe the ordinary courtesies— +what bait I was using. I answered, fresh pilchard bait; and offered +him some, delicately forbearing to return the question, since it is +an article of faith with us that the burgesses of Lestiddle bait with +earthworms which they dig out of their back gardens. Well, he +accepted my pilchard bait, and pulled up two score of mackerel within +as many minutes, which doubtless gave him something to boast about on +his return.</p> + +<p>He was not ungrateful. Next week I received from him a parcel of MS. +with a letter saying that he had come across it, "a fly in amber," in +turning over a pile of old Stannary records. How it had found its +way among them he could not guess.</p> + +<p>A fly in amber, quotha! A jewel in a midden, rather! How it came +among his trumpery archives I know as little as he, but can guess. +Some Lestiddle man must have stolen it, and chosen them as a safe +hiding-place.</p> + +<p>It gave me the clue, and more than the clue. I know now the history +of that Mayor of Troy who was so popular that the town made him +Ex-Mayor the year following.</p> + +<p>Listen! Stretch out both hands; open your mouth and shut your eyes! +It is a draught of Troy's own vintage that I offer you; racy, +fragrant of the soil, from a cask these hundred years sunk, so that +it carries a smack, too, of the submerging brine. You know the old +recipe for Wine of Cos, that full-bodied, seignorial, superlative, +translunary wine.</p> + +<p>Yet I know not how to begin.</p> + +<p> "Fortunam Priami cantabo et nobile bellum."</p> + +<p>"I will sing you Troy and its Mayor and a war of high renown," that +is how I want to begin; but Horace in his <i>Ars Poetica</i>—confound +him!—has chosen this very example as a model to avoid, and the +critics would be down on me in a pack.</p> + +<p>Very well, then, let us try a more reputable way.</p> + +<br> +<br> +<p><a name="2"></a> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER I.</h3> +<br> + + + +<h4>OUR MAJOR.</h4> + +<p>Arms and the Man I sing!</p> + +<p>When, on the 16th of May, 1803, King George III. told his faithful +subjects that the Treaty of Amiens was no better than waste paper, +Troy neither felt nor affected to feel surprise. King, Consul, +Emperor—it knew these French rulers of old, under whatever title +they might disguise themselves. More than four centuries ago an +English King had sent his pursuivants down to us with a message that +"the Gallants of Troy must abstain from attacking, plundering, and +sinking the ships of our brother of France, because we, Edward of +England, are at peace with our brother of France": and the Gallants +of Troy had returned an answer at once humble and firm: "Your Majesty +best knows your Majesty's business, but <i>we</i> are at war with your +brother of France." Yes, we knew these Frenchmen. Once before, in +1456, they had thought to surprise us, choosing a night when our +Squire was away at market, and landing a force to burn and sack us: +and our Squire's wife had met them with boiling lead. His Majesty's +Ministers might be taken at unawares, not we. We slept Bristol +fashion, with one eye open.</p> + +<p>But when, as summer drew on, news came that the infamous usurper was +collecting troops at Boulogne, and flat-bottomed boats, to invade us; +when the spirit of the British people armed for the support of their +ancient glory and independence against the unprincipled ambition of +the French Government; when, in the Duchy alone, no less than 8511 +men and boys enrolled themselves in twenty-nine companies of foot, +horse and artillery, as well out of enthusiasm as to escape the +general levy threatened by Government (so mixed are all human +motives); then, you may be sure, Troy did not lag behind.</p> + +<p>Ah! but we had some brave corps among the Duchy Volunteers!</p> + +<p>There was the St. Germans Subscription Troop, for instance, which +consisted of forty men and eleven uniforms, and hunted the fox thrice +a week during the winter months under Lord Eliot, Captain and M.F.H. +There was the Royal Redruth Infantry, the famous "Royal Reds," of 103 +men and five uniforms. These had heard, at second hand, of +Bonaparte's vow to give them no quarter, and wore a conspicuous patch +of red in the seat of their pantaloons that he might have no excuse +for mistaking them. There was the even more famous Mevagissey +Battery, of no men and 121 uniforms. In Mevagissey, as you may be +aware, the bees fly tail-foremost; and therefore, to prevent +bickerings, it was wisely resolved at the first drill to make every +unit of this corps an officer.</p> + +<p>But the most famous of all (and sworn rivals) were two companies of +coast artillery—the Looe Diehards and the Troy Gallants.</p> + +<p>The Looe Diehards (seventy men and two uniforms) wore dark blue coats +and pantaloons, with red facings, yellow wings and tassels, and white +waistcoats. Would you know by what feat they earned their name? +Listen. I quote the very words of their commander, Captain Bond, who +survived to write a <i>History of Looe</i>—and a sound book it is. +"The East and West Looe Volunteer Artillery was established in 1803, +and kept in pay from Government for six years. Not a single man of +the company died during the six years, which is certainly very +remarkable."</p> + +<p>But, when you come to think of it, what an even more remarkable boast +for a body of warriors!</p> + +<p>We of Troy (180 men and two uniforms) laughed at this claim. +Say what you will, there is no dash about longevity, or very little. +For uniform we wore dark-blue coats and pantaloons, with white wings +and facings, edged and tasselled with gilt, and scarlet waistcoats, +also braided with gilt. We wanted no new name, we! Ours was an +inherited one, derived from days when, under Warwick the King-maker, +Lord High Admiral of England, we had swept the Channel, summoned the +men of Rye and Winchelsea to vail their bonnets—to take in sail, +mark you: no trumpery dipping of a flag would satisfy us—and when +they stiff-neckedly refused, had silenced the one town and carried +off the other's chain to hang across our harbour from blockhouse to +blockhouse. Also, was it not a gallant of Troy that assailed and +carried the great French pirate, Jean Doree, and clapped him under +his own hatches?</p> + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class="noindent">"The roaring cannons then were plied,<br> +<span class = "ind2">And dub-a-dub went the drum-a;</span><br> +The braying trumpets loud they cried<br> +<span class="ind2">To courage both all and some-a."</span><br><br> + +"The grappling-hooks were brought at length,<br> +<span class = "ind2">The brown bill and the sword-a;</span><br> + John Dory at length, for all his strength,<br> +<span class = "ind2">Was clapt fast under board-a."</span></p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + +<p>That was why we wore our uniforms embroidered with gold (<i>dores</i>). +The Frenchmen, if they came, would understand the taunt.</p> + +<p>But most of all we were proud of Solomon Hymen, our Major and our +Mayor of Troy.</p> + +<p>I can see him now as he addressed us on the evening of our first +drill, standing beside the two long nineteen-pounders on the Old +Fort; erect, with a hand upon his ivory sword-hilt, his knops and +epaulettes flashing against the level sun. I can see his very +gesture as he enjoined silence on the band; for we had a band, and it +was playing "Come, Cheer Up, My Lads!" As though we weren't cheerful +enough already!</p> + +<p><br> +[But "Come, come!" the reader will object. "All this happened a +hundred years ago. Yet here are you talking as if you had been +present." Very true: it is a way we have in Troy. Call it a +foible—but forgive it! The other day, for instance, happening on +the Town Quay, I found our gasman, Mr. Rabling, an earnest Methodist, +discussing to a small crowd on the subject of the Golden Calf, and in +this fashion: "Well, friends, in the midst of all this pillaloo, +hands-across and down-the-middle, with old Aaron as bad as any and +flinging his legs about more boldacious with every caper, I happens +to glance up the hill, and with that I gives a whistle; for what do I +see but a man aloft there picking his way down on his heels with a +parcel under his arm! Every now and then he pulls up, shading his +eyes, so, like as if he'd a lost his bearin's. I glances across to +Aaron, and thinks I, 'Look out for squalls! Here's big brother +coming, and a nice credit <i>this'll</i> be to the family!'…" +The historic present, as my Latin grammar used to call it, is our +favourite tense: and if you insist that, not being a hundred years +old, I cannot speak as an eye-witness of this historic scene, my +answer must be Browning's,—<br> + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<span class = "ind5">"All I can say is—I saw it!"]</span> +</blockquote></blockquote> +<br><p> +"Gentlemen!" began the Major.</p> + +<p>We might not all be officers, like the Mevagissey Artillery, but in +the Troy Gallants we were all gentlemen.</p> + +<p>"Gentlemen!"—the Major waved an arm seaward—"yonder lies your +enemy. Behind you"—he pointed up the harbour to the town— +"England relies on your protection. Shall the Corsican tyrant lay +his lascivious hands upon her ancient liberties, her reformed and +Protestant religion, her respectable Sovereign and his Consort, her +mansions, her humble cottages, and those members of the opposite sex +whose charms reward, and, in rewarding, refine us? Or shall we meet +his flat-bottomed boats with a united front, a stern 'Thus far and no +farther,' and send them home with their tails between their legs? +That, gentlemen, is the alternative. Which will you choose?"</p> + +<p>Here the Major paused, and finding that he expected an answer, we +turned our eyes with one consent upon Gunner Sobey, the readiest man +in the company.</p> + +<p>"The latter!" said Gunner Sobey, with precision; whereat we gave +three cheers. We dined, that afternoon, in the Long Room of the +"Ship" Inn, and afterwards danced the night through in the Town Hall.</p> + +<p>The Major danced famously. Above all things, he prided himself on +being a ladies' man, and the fair sex (as he always called them) +admired him without disguise. His manner towards them was gallant +yet deferential, tender yet manly. He conceded everything to their +weakness; yet no man in Troy could treat a woman with greater +plainness of speech. The confirmed spinsters (high and low, rich and +poor, we counted seventy-three of them in Troy) seemed to like him +none the less because he lost no occasion, public or private, of +commending wedlock. For the doctrine of Mr. Malthus (recently +promoted to a Professorship at the East India College) he had a +robust contempt. He openly regretted that, owing to the negligence +of our forefathers, the outbreak of war found Great Britain with but +fifteen million inhabitants to match against twenty-five million +Frenchmen. <i>They</i> threatened to invade <i>us</i>, whereas <i>we</i> should +rather have been in a position to march on Paris! He asked nothing +better. He quoted with sardonic emphasis the remark of a politician +that "'twas hardly worth while to go to war merely to prove that we +could put ourselves in a good posture for defence."</p> + +<p>"If I had my way," announced Major Hymen, "every woman in England +should have a dozen children at least."</p> + +<p>"What a man!" said Miss Pescod afterwards to Miss Sally Tregentil, +who had dropped in for a cup of tea.</p> + +<p>And yet the Major was a bachelor. They could not help wondering a +little.</p> + +<p>"With two such names, too!" mused Miss Sally. "'Solomon' and +'Hymen'; they certainly suggest—they would almost seem to give +promise of, at least, a <i>dual</i> destiny."</p> + +<p>"You mark my words," said Miss Pescod. "That man has been crossed in +love."</p> + +<p>"But <i>who</i>?" asked Miss Sally, her eyes widening in speculation. +"<i>Who</i> could have done such a thing?"</p> + +<p>"My dear, I understand there are women in London capable of +anything."</p> + +<p>The Major, you must know, had spent the greater part of his life in +the capital as a silk-mercer and linen-draper—I believe, in the +Old Jewry; at any rate, not far from Cheapside. He had left us at +the age of sixteen to repair the fortunes of his family, once +opulent and respected, but brought low by his great-grandfather's +rash operations in South Sea stock. In London, thanks to an +ingratiating manner with the sex on which a linen-draper relies for +patronage, he had prospered, had amassed a competence, and had sold +his business to retire to his native town, as Shakespeare retired to +Stratford-on-Avon, and at about the same period of life.</p> + +<p>Had the Major in London been crossed in love? No; I incline to +believe that Miss Pescod was mistaken. That hearts, up there, +fluttered for a man of his presence is probable, nay certain. +In port and even in features he bore a singular likeness to the +Prince Regent. He himself could not but be aware of this, having +heard it so often remarked upon by persons acquainted with his Royal +Highness as well as by others who had never set eyes on him. In +short, our excellent Major may have dallied in his time with the +darts of love; there is no evidence that he ever took a wound.</p> + +<p>Within a year after his return he bought back the ancestral home of +the Hymens, a fine house dating from the reign of Queen Anne. +(His great-grandfather had built it on the site of a humbler abode, +on the eve of the South Sea collapse.) It stood at the foot of +Custom House Hill and looked down the length of Fore Street—a +perspective view of which the Major never wearied—no, not even on +hot afternoons when the population took its siesta within doors and, +in the words of Cai Tamblyn, "you might shot a cannon down the +streets of Troy, and no person would be shoot." This Cai (or Caius) +Tamblyn, an eccentric little man of uncertain age, with a black +servant Scipio, who wore a livery of green and scarlet and slept +under the stairs, made up the Major's male retinue. Between them +they carried his sedan chair; and because Cai (who walked in front) +measured but an inch above five feet, whereas Scipio stood six feet +three in his socks, the Major had a seat contrived with a sharp +backward slope, and two wooden buffers against which he thrust his +feet when going down-hill. Besides these, whom he was wont to call, +somewhat illogically, his two factotums, his household comprised Miss +Marty and a girl Lavinia who, as Miss Marty put it, did odds and +ends. Miss Marty was a poor relation, a third or fourth cousin on +the maternal side, whom the Major had discovered somewhere on the +other side of the Duchy, and promoted. Socially she did not count. +She asked no more than to be allowed to feed and array the Major, and +gaze after him as he walked down the street.</p> + +<p>And what a progress it was!</p> + +<p>Again I can see him as he made ready for it, standing in his doorway +at the head of a flight of steps, which led down from it to the small +wrought-iron gate opening on the street. The house has since been +converted into bank premises and its threshold lowered for the +convenience of customers. Gone are the plants—the myrtle on the +right of the porch, the jasmine on the left—with the balusters over +which they rambled, and the steps which the balusters protected—ah, +how eloquently the Major's sword clanked upon these as he descended! +But the high-pitched roof remains, with its three dormer windows +still leaning awry, and the plaster porch where a grotesque, +half-human face grins at you from the middle of a fluted sea-shell. +Standing before it with half-closed eyes, I behold the steps again, +and our great man at the head of them receiving his hat from the +obsequious Scipio, drawing on his gloves, looping his malacca cane to +his wrist by its tasselled cord of silk. The descent might be +military or might be civil: he was always Olympian.</p> + +<p>"The handsome he is!" Miss Marty would sigh, gazing after him.</p> + +<p>"A fine figure of a man, our Major!" commented Butcher Oke, following +him from the shop-door with a long stare, after the day's joint had +been discussed and chosen.</p> + +<p>The children, to whom he was ever affable, stopped their play to take +and return his smile. Some even grinned and saluted. They reserved +their awe for Scipio. Indeed, there is a legend that when Scipio +made his first appearance in Fore Street—he being so tall and the +roadway so narrow—he left in his wake two rows of supine children +who, parting before him, had gradually tilted back as their gaze +climbed up his magnificent and liveried person until the sight of his +ebon face toppled them over, flat.</p> + +<p>Miss Jex, the postmistress, would hand him his letters or his copy of +the <i>Sherborne Mercury</i> with a troubled blush. No exception surely +could be taken if she, a Government official, chose to hang a +coloured engraving of the Prince Regent on the wall behind her +counter. And yet—the resemblance! She had heard of irregular +alliances, Court scandals; she had even looked out "Morganatic" in +the dictionary, blushing for the deed while pretending to herself +(fie, Miss Jex!) that "Moravian" was the word she sought.</p> + +<p>In Admirals' Row—its real name was Admiral's Row, and had been given +to it in 1758, after the capture of Louisbourg and in honour of +Admiral Boscawen; but we in Troy preferred to write the apostrophe +after the 's'—Miss Sally Tregentil would overpeer her blind and draw +back in a flutter lest the Major had observed her.</p> + +<p>"Georgiana Pescod is positive that he was wild in his youth. +But how," Miss Sally asked herself, "can Georgiana possibly know? +And if he were—"</p> + +<p>I leave you, my reader, as you know the female heart, to continue +Miss Sally's broken musings.</p> + + +<br> +<br> +<p><a name="3"></a> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER II.</h3> +<br> + +<h4>OUR MAYOR.</h4> + +<p><i>Cedant arma togae</i>. It is time we turned from the Major to the +Mayor, from the man of gallantry to the magistrate.</p> + +<p>You know, I dare say, the story of the King of England and the King +of Portugal. The King of Portugal paid the King of England a visit. +"My brother," said the King of England, after some days, "I wish to +ask you a question." "Say on," said the King of Portugal. "I am +curious to know what in these realms of mine has most impressed you?" +The King of Portugal considered a while. "Your roast beef is +excellent," said he. "And after our roast beef, what next?" +The King of Portugal considered a while longer. "Your boiled beef +very nearly approaches it." So, if you had asked us on what first of +all we prided ourselves in Troy, we had pointed to our Major. If you +had asked "What next?" we had pointed to our Mayor.</p> + +<p>And these, our Dioscuri, were one and the same man! In truth, I +suppose we ought to have been proudest of him as Mayor; since as +Mayor he represented the King himself among us—nay, to all intents +and purposes <i>was</i> the King. More than once in his public speeches +he reminded us of this: and we were glad to remember it when—as +sometimes happened—we ran a cargo from Roscoff or Guernsey and left +a cask or two privily behind the Mayor's quay door. We felt then +that his Majesty had been paid duty, and could have no legitimate +grievance against us.</p> + +<p>Was there any mental confusion in this? You would pardon it had you +ever been privileged to witness his Sunday procession to church, in +scarlet robe trimmed with sable, in cocked-hat and chain of office; +the mace-bearers marching before in scarlet with puce-coloured capes, +the aldermen following after in tasselled gowns of black; the band +ahead playing "The Girl I left behind Me" (for, although organised +for home defence, our corps had chosen this to be its regimental +tune). "Some talk of Alexander and some of Hercules"—and some of +Solomon, who never saw <i>our</i> Solomon on the bench of justice!</p> + +<p>Let me tell you of his famous decision on Sabbath-breaking. +One Sunday afternoon our Mayor's slumbers were interrupted by Jago +the constable, who haled before him a man, a horse, and two +pannier-loads of vegetables, and charged the first-named with this +heinous offence. The fellow—a small tenant-farmer from the +outskirts of the parish—could not deny that he had driven his cart +down to the Town Quay, unharnessed, and started in a loud voice to +cry his wares. There, almost on the instant, Jago had taken him +<i>in flagrante delicto</i>, and, having an impediment in his speech, had +used no words but collared him.</p> + +<p>"What have you to say for yourself?" the Mayor demanded.</p> + +<p>"Darn me if I know what's amiss with the town to-day!" the culprit +made answer. "Be it a funeral?"</p> + +<p>"You are charged with trading, or attempting to trade, on the +Sabbath; and sad hearing this will be for your old parents, John +Polkinghorne."</p> + +<p>John Polkinghorne scratched his head. "You ben't going to tell me +that this be Sunday!" (You see, the poor fellow, living so far in +the country, had somehow miscounted the week, and ridden in to market +a day late.)</p> + +<p>"Sunday?" cried the Mayor. "Look at my Bible, there, 'pon the table! +Look at my clean bandanna!"—this was his handkerchief, that he had +been wearing over his face while he dozed, to keep off the flies.</p> + +<p>"Good Lord! And me all this morning in the homefield scoading dung!"</p> + +<p>"You go home this instant, and take every bit of that dung off again +before sunset," commanded the Mayor, "and if the Lord says no more +about it, we'll overlook the case."</p> + +<p>Maybe you have never heard either of his famous examination of Sarah +Mennear, of the "Three Pilchards" Inn (commonly known as the "Kettle +of Fish "), who applied for a separation, alleging that her husband +had kissed her by mistake for another woman.</p> + +<p>"What other woman?" demanded his Worship.</p> + +<p>"Sorra wan o' me knows," answered Sarah, who came of Irish +extraction.</p> + +<p>Her tale went that the previous evening, a little after twilight, she +was walking up the street and had gone by the door of the "Ship" Inn, +when a man staggered out into the roadway and followed her. By the +sound of his footsteps she took him for some drunken sailor, and was +hurrying on (but not fast, by reason of her clogs), when the man +overtook her, flung an arm around her neck, and forcibly kissed her. +Breaking away from him, she discovered it was her own husband.</p> + +<p>"Then where's the harm?" asked the Mayor.</p> + +<p>"But, please your Worship, he took me for another woman."</p> + +<p>"Then you must cite the other woman."</p> + +<p>"Arrah now, and how the divvle, saving your Worship's presence, will +I cite the hussy, seein' I never clapt eyes on her?"</p> + +<p>"No difficulty at all. To begin with, she was wearing clogs."</p> + +<p>"And so would nine women out of ten be wearin' clogs in last night's +weather."</p> + +<p>"And next, she was lifting the skirt of her gown high, to let the +folks admire her ankles."</p> + +<p>"Your Worship saw the woman, then? If I'd known your Worship to be +within hail—"</p> + +<p>"I think I know the woman. And so do you, Mrs. Mennear, if you can +think of one in this town that's vain as yourself of her foot and +ankle, and with as good a right."</p> + +<p>"There's not one," said Mrs. Mennear positively.</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, there is. Go back home, like a sensible soul, and maybe +you'll find her there."</p> + +<p>"The villain! Ye'll not be tellin' me he's dared—" Mrs. Mennear +came near to choke.</p> + +<p>"And small blame to him," said the Mayor with a twinkle. "Will you +go home, Sarah Mennear, and be humble, and ask her pardon?"</p> + +<p>"Will I sclum her eyes out, ye mane!" cried Sarah, fairly dancing.</p> + +<p>"Go home, foolish wife!" The Mayor was not smiling now, and his +voice took on a terrible sternness. "The woman I mean is the woman +John Mennear married, or thought he married; the woman that aforetime +had kept her own counsel though he caught and kissed her in a dimmety +corner of the street; the woman that swore to love, honour and obey +him, not she that tongue-drove him to the 'King of Prussia,' with his +own good liquor to keep him easy at home. Drunk he must have been to +mistake the one for t'other; and I'm willing to fine him for +drunkenness. But cite that other woman here before you ask me for a +separation order, and I'll grant it; and I'll warrant when John sees +you side by side, he won't oppose it."</p> + +<br><p> +Here and there our Mayor had his detractors, no doubt. What public +man has not? He incurred the reproach of pride, for instance, when +he appeared, one wet day, carrying an umbrella, the first ever seen +in Troy. A Guernsey merchant had presented him with this novelty +(I may whisper here that our Mayor did something more than connive at +the free trade) and patently it kept off the rain. But would it not +attract the lightning? Many, even among his well-wishers, shook +their heads. For their part they would have accepted the gift, but +it should never have seen the light: they would have locked it away +in their chests.</p> + +<p>Oddly enough the Mayor nourished his severest censor in his own +household. The rest of us might quote his wit, his wisdom, might +defer to him as a being, if not superhuman, at least superlative +among men; but Cai Tamblyn would have none of it. He had found one +formula to answer all our praises.</p> + +<p>"<i>Him</i>? Why, I knawed him when he was <i>so</i> high!"</p> + +<p>Nor would he hesitate, in the Mayor's presence, from translating it +into the second person.</p> + +<p>"<i>You</i>? Why, I knawed you when you was <i>so</i> high!"</p> + +<p>Yet the Mayor retained him in his service, which sufficiently proves +his magnanimity.</p> + +<p>He could afford to be magnanimous, being adored.</p> + +<p>Who but he could have called a public meeting and persuaded the +ladies of the town to enroll themselves in a brigade and patrol the +cliffs in red cloaks during harvest, that the French, if perchance +they approached our shores, might mistake them for soldiery? It was +pretty, I tell you, to walk the coast-track on a warm afternoon and +pass these sentinels two hundred yards apart, each busy with her +knitting.</p> + +<p>Of all the marks left on our town by Major Hymen's genius, the +Port Hospital, or the idea of it, proved (as it deserved) to +be the most enduring. The Looe Volunteers might pride themselves +on their longevity—at the best a dodging of the common lot. +We, characteristically, thought first of death and wounds.</p> + +<p>As the Major put it, at another public meeting: "There are risks even +in handling the explosives generously supplied to us by Government. +But suppose—and the supposition is surely not extravagant—that +history should repeat itself; that our ancient enemy should once +again, as in 1456, thunder at <i>this</i> gate of England. He will +thunder in vain, gentlemen! (Loud applause.) As a wave from the +cliff he will draw back, hissing, from the iron mouths of our guns. +But, gentlemen"—here the Mayor sank his voice impressively— +"we cannot have omelets without the breaking of eggs, nor victories +without effusion of blood. He may leave prisoners in our hands: he +will assuredly leave us with dead to bury, with wounded to care for. +As masters of the field, we shall discharge these offices of common +humanity, not discriminating between friend and foe. But in what +position are we to fulfil them?"</p> + +<p>The fact was (when we came to consider it) our prevision had extended +no farther than the actual combat: for its most ordinary results we +had made no preparation at all.</p> + +<p>But in Troy we are nothing if not thorough. The meeting appointed an +Emergency Committee then and there; and the Committee, having retired +to reassemble ten minutes later at the "General Wolfe," within an +hour sketched out the following proposals:</p> + +<p> 1.—An Ambulance Corps to be formed of youths under sixteen + (not being bandsmen) and adults variously unfit for military + service.</p> + +<p> 2.—A Corps of Female Nurses. Miss Pescod to be asked to + organise.</p> + +<p> 3.—The Town lock-up to be enlarged by taking down the partition + between it and a chamber formerly used by the Constable as a + potato store. It was also resolved to strengthen the door + and provide it with two new bolts and padlocks.</p> + +<p> 4.—The question of enlarging the Churchyard was deferred to the + next (Easter) vestry.</p> + +<p> 5.—Subscriptions to be invited for providing a War Hospital. + The Mayor, with Lawyer Chinn (Town Clerk) and Alderman + Hansombody, to seek for suitable premises, and report.</p> + +<p>Of Dr. Hansombody I shall have more to tell anon. For the present +let it suffice that before entering public life he had earned our +confidence as an apothecary, and especially by his skill and delicacy +in maternity cases.</p> + +<p>These proposals were duly announced: and only if you know Troy can +you conceive with what spirit the town flung itself into the task of +making them effective. "Task," did I say? When I tell you that at +our next drill a parade of thirty-two stretchers followed us up to +the Old Fort (still to the tune of "Come, Cheer Up, My Lads!") you +may guess how far duty and pleasure had made accord.</p> + +<p>The project of a hospital went forward more slowly; but at length the +Mayor and his Committee were able to announce that premises had been +taken on a lease of seven years (by which time an end to the war +might reasonably be predicted) in Passage Street, as you go towards +the ferry; the exterior whitewashed and fitted with green jalousie +shutters; the interior also cleaned and whitewashed, and a ward +opened with two beds. Though few enough to meet the contingencies of +invasion, and a deal too few (especially while they remained +unoccupied) to satisfy the zeal of Miss Pescod's corps of nurses +(which by the end of the second week numbered forty-three, with +sixteen probationary members), these two beds exhausted our +subscriptions for the time. A Ladies' Thursday Evening Working Party +supplied them with sheets, pillows and pillow-cases, blankets and +coverlets (twenty-two coverlets).</p> + +<p>The Institution, as we have seen, was intended for a War Hospital; +but pending invasion, and to get our nurses accustomed to the work, +there seemed no harm in admitting as our first patient a sailor from +Plymouth Dock who, having paid a lengthy call at the "King of +Prussia" and drunk there exorbitantly, on the way to his ship had +walked over the edge of the Town Quay. The tide being low, he had +escaped drowning, but at the price of three broken ribs.</p> + +<p>It is related of this man that early in his convalescence he sat up +and demanded of the Visiting Committee (the Mayor and Miss Pescod) a +translation of two texts which hung framed on the wall facing his +bed. They had been illuminated by Miss Sally Tregentil at the +instance of the Vicar (a Master of Arts of the University of Oxford) +—the one, "<i>Parcere Subjectis</i>," the other, "<i>Dulce et Decorum est +Pro Patria Mori</i>"</p> + +<p>"Ah," said the Mayor, with a rallying glance at Miss Pescod, "that's +more than any of us know. That's Latin!"</p> + +<p>"Excuse me," put in Dr. Hansombody, who had been measuring out a +draught at the little table by the window, "I don't pretend to be a +scholar; but I have made out the gist of them; and I understand them +to recommend a gentle aperient in cases which at first baffle +diagnosis."</p> + +<p>"Ah!" was the Mayor's only comment.</p> + +<p>"I don't profess mine to be more than a free rendering," went on the +little apothecary. "The Latin, as you would suppose, puts it more +poetically."</p> + +<p>"Talking of texts," said the patient, leaning back wearily on his +pillow, "there was a woman somewhere in the Bible who put her head +out of window and recommended for every man a damsel or two and a +specified amount of needlework. I ain't complainin', mind you; but +there's reason in all things."</p> + +<p>You have heard how our movement was launched. Where it would have +ended none can tell, had not the Millennium interfered.</p> + +<br> +<br> +<p><a name="4"></a> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER III.</h3> +<br> + + +<h4>THE MILLENNIUM.</h4> + +<p>Aristotle has laid it down that the highest drama concerns itself +with reversal of fortune befalling a man highly renowned and +prosperous, of better character rather than worse; and brought about +less by vice than by some great error or frailty. After all that has +been said, you will wonder how I can admit a frailty in Major Hymen. +But he had one.</p> + +<p>You will wonder yet more when you hear it defined. To tell the +truth, he—our foremost citizen—yet missed being a perfect Trojan. +We were far indeed from suspecting it; he was our fine flower, our +representative man. Yet in the light of later events I can see now, +and plainly enough, where he fell short.</p> + +<p>A University Extension Lecturer who descended upon us the other day +and, encouraged by the crowds that flocked to hear him discourse on +English Miracle Plays, advertised a second series of lectures, this +time on English Moralities, but only to find his audience diminished +to one young lady (whom he promptly married)—this lecturer, I say, +whose text-books indeed indicated several points of difference +between the Miracle Play and the Morality, but nothing to account for +so marked a subsidence in the register, departed in a huff, using +tart language and likening us to a pack of children blowing bubbles.</p> + +<p>There is something in the fellow's simile. When an idea gets hold of +us in Troy, we puff at it, we blow it out and distend it to a globe, +pausing and calling on one another to mark the prismatic tints, the +fugitive images, symbols, meanings of the wide world glassed upon our +pretty toy. We launch it. We follow it with our eyes as it floats +from us—an irrecoverable delight. We watch until the microcosm goes +pop! Then we laugh and blow another.</p> + +<p>That is where the fellow's simile breaks down. While the game lasts +we are profoundly in earnest, serious as children: but each bubble as +it bursts releases a shower of innocent laughter, flinging it like +spray upon the sky. There in a chime it hangs for a moment, and so +comes dropping—dropping—back to us until:</p> + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<span class = "ind5">"Quite through our streets, with silver sound"</span> +</blockquote></blockquote> + +<p>The flood of laughter flows, and for weeks the narrow roadways, the +quays and alleys catch and hold its refluent echoes. Your true +Trojan, in short, will don and doff his folly as a garment. Do you +meet him, grave as a judge, with compressed lip and corrugated brow? +Stand aside, I warn you: his fit is on him, and he may catch you up +with him to heights where the ridiculous and the sublime are one and +all the Olympians as drunk as Chloe. Better, if you have no head for +heights, wait and listen for the moment—it will surely come—when +the bubble cracks, and with a laugh he is sane, hilariously sane.</p> + +<p>Just here it was that our Mayor fell out with our <i>genius loci</i>. +He could smile—paternally, magisterially, benignantly, gallantly, +with patronage, in deprecation, compassionately, disdainfully (as +when he happened to mention Napoleon Bonaparte); subtly and with +intention; or frankly, in mere <i>bonhomie</i>; as a Man, as a Major, as a +Mayor. But he was never known to laugh.</p> + +<p>Through this weakness he fell. But he was a great man, and it took +the Millennium-nothing less—to undo him.</p> + +<p>Here let me say, once for all, that the Millennium was no invention +of ours. It started with the Vicar of Helleston, and we may wash our +hands of it.</p> + +<p>On the first Sunday of January 1800, the Vicar of Helleston +(an unimportant town in the extreme southwest of Cornwall, near the +Lizard) preached a sermon which, at the request of a few +parishioners, he afterwards published under the title of <i>Reflections +on the New Century</i>. In delight, no doubt, at finding himself in +print, he sent complimentary copies to a number of his fellow-clergy, +and, among others, to the Vicar of Troy.</p> + +<p>Our Vicar, being a scholar and a gentleman, but a determined foe to +loose thinking (especially in Cambridge men), courteously +acknowledged the gift, but took occasion to remind his brother of +Helleston that Reflection was a retrospective process; that Man, as a +finite creature, could but anticipate events before they happened; +and that if the parishioners of Helleston wished to reflect on the +New Century they would have to wait until January 1901, or something +more than a hundred years.</p> + +<p>The Vicar of Helleston replied, tacitly admitting his misuse of +language, but demanding to know if in the Vicar of Troy's opinion the +new century would begin on January 1st, 1801: for his own part he had +supposed, and was prepared to maintain, that it had begun on January +1st, 1800.</p> + +<p>To this the Vicar of Troy retorted that undoubtedly the new century +would begin on the first day of January 1801, and that anyone who +held another opinion must suffer from confusion of mind.</p> + +<p>The Vicar of Helleston stuck to his contention, and a terrific +correspondence ensued. With the arguments exchanged—which tended +more and more to appeal from common sense to metaphysics—we need +not concern ourselves. The most of them reappeared the other day +(1900-1901) in the public press, and will doubtless reappear at the +alleged beginning of every century to come. But in his sixth letter +the Vicar of Helleston opened what I may call a masked battery.</p> + +<p>He said—and I believe the fellow had been leading up to this from +the start—that he desired to thresh the question out not only on +general grounds, but officially as Vicar of Helleston; since he had +reason to believe that a certain day in the opening year of the new +century would bring a term to the Millennium; that the Millennium had +begun in Helleston close on a thousand years ago; and that (as he +calculated, on the 8th of May next approaching) Satan might +reasonably be expected to regain his liberty (see Revelation xx.). +For evidence he adduced a local tradition that in his parish the +Archangel Michael (whose Mount stands at no great distance) had met +and defeated the Prince of Darkness, had cast him into a pit, and had +sealed the pit with a great stone; which stone might be seen by any +visitor on application to the landlord of the "Angel" Inn and payment +of a trifling fee. Moreover, the stone was black as your hat (unless +you were a free-thinking Radical and wore a white one; in which case +it was blacker). He pointed out that the name of Helleston—<i>i.q.</i>, +Hell's Stone—corroborated this tradition. He went on to say that +annually, on the 8th of May, from time immemorial his parishioners +had met in the streets and engaged in a public dance which either +commemorated mankind's deliverance from the Spirit of Evil, or had no +meaning at all.</p> + +<p>The Vicar of Troy, warming to this new contention, riposted in +masterly style. He answered Helleston's claim to a monopoly, or even +a predominant interest, in the Devil by pelting his opponent with +Devil's Quoits, Devil's Punch-bowls, Walking-sticks, Frying-pans, +Pudding-dishes, Ploughshares; Devil's Strides, Jumps, Footprints, +Fingerprints; Devil's Hedges, Ditches, Ridges, Furrows; Devil's +Cairns, Cromlechs, Wells, Monoliths, Caves, Castles, Cliffs, Chasms; +Devil's Heaths, Moors, Downs, Commons, Copses, Furzes, Marshes, Bogs, +Streams, Sands, Quicksands, Estuaries; Devil's High-roads, By-roads, +Lanes, Footpaths, Stiles, Gates, Smithies, Cross-roads; from every +corner of the Duchy. He matched Helleston's May-dance with at least +a score of similar May-day observances in different towns and +villages of Cornwall. He quoted the Padstow Hobby-horse, the +Towednack Cuckoo-feast, the Madron Dipping Day, the Troy May-dragon, +and proved that the custom of ushering in the summer with song and +dance and some symbolical rite of purgation was well-nigh universal +throughout Cornwall. He followed the custom overseas, to Brittany, +Hungary, the Black Forest, Moldavia, Lithuania, Poland, Finland, the +Caucasus.… He wound up by sardonically congratulating the worthy +folk of Helleston: if the events of the past thousand years satisfied +their notion of a Millennium, they were easily pleased.</p> + +<p>And then—</p> + +<p>Well, the next thing to happen was that the Vicar of Helleston +published a pamphlet of 76 pages 8vo, entitled <i>Considerations Proper +to the New Century, with some Reflections on the Millennium</i>. Note, +pray, the artfulness of the title, and, having noted it, let us pass +on. Our Vicar did not trouble to reply, being off by this time on a +scent of his own.</p> + +<p>The dispute had served its purpose. On the morning of March 25th, +1804, he knocked at the Major's door, and, pushing past Scipio, +rushed into the breakfast-parlour unannounced.</p> + +<p>"My dear Vicar! What has happened? Surely the French—" +The Major bounced up from his chair, napkin in hand.</p> + +<p>"The Millennium, Major! I have it, I tell you!"</p> + +<p>Miss Marty sat down the tea-pot with a trembling hand. She was +always timid of infectious disease.</p> + +<p>"O—oh!" The Major's tone expressed his relief. "I thought for the +moment—and you not shaved this morning—"</p> + +<p>"The fellow had hold of the stick all the while. I'll do him that +credit. He had hold of the stick, but at the wrong end. I've been +working it out, and 'tis plain (excuse me) as the nose on your face. +The moment you see 'Napoleon' with the numbers under him—"</p> + +<p>"Eh? Then it <i>is</i> the French!" Again the Major bounced up from his +chair.</p> + +<p>"The French? Yes, of course—but, excuse me—"</p> + +<p>"<i>What</i> numbers?" The Major's voice shook, though he bravely tried +to control it.</p> + +<p>"Six hundred—"</p> + +<p>"Good Lord! <i>Where</i>?"</p> + +<p>"—And sixty and six. In Revelation thirteen, eighteen—I thought +you knew!" went on the Vicar reproachfully, as his friend dropped +back upon his chair, and, resting an elbow on the table, shaded +his eyes and their emotion. "As I can now prove to you in ten +minutes, the Corsican's name spells accurately the Number of the +Beast. But that's only the beginning. Power, you remember, was +given to the Beast to continue forty and two months. Add forty and +two months to the first day of the century, which I have shown to be +January 1st, 1801, and you come to May 1st, 1804: that is to say, +next May-day. You perceive the significance of the date?"</p> + +<p>"Not entirely," confessed the Major, still a trifle pale. "Why, my +dear sir, all these rites and customs over which the Vicar of +Helleston and I have been disputing—these May-day observances, in +themselves apparently so puerile but so obviously symbolical to one +who looks below the surface—turn out to be not retrospective, not +reminiscent, not commemorative at all, but anticipatory. On every +1st of May our small urchins form a dragon or devil out of old pots +and saucepans, and flog it through the streets. <i>Ex ore infantum</i>— +on the 1st of May next (mark my words) we shall see Satan laid hold +upon and bound for a thousand years."</p> + +<p>"Good Lord!" exclaimed the Major once again.</p> + +<p>"In the middle of spring-cleaning, too!" quavered Miss Marty.</p> + +<p>"You'll find it as clear as daylight," the Vicar assured them, +pulling out a pocket Testament and tapping the open page.</p> + +<p>"Will it," the Major began timorously, "will it make an appreciable +difference?"</p> + +<p>"To what?"</p> + +<p>"To—to our daily life—our routine? Call it humdrum, if you will—"</p> + +<p>"My good friend, the Millennium!"</p> + +<p>"I know, I know. Still, at my age a man has formed habits. +Of course"—the Major pulled himself together—"if it's a question of +Satan's being bound for a thousand years, on general grounds one can +only approve. Yes, decidedly, on principle one welcomes it. +Nevertheless, coming so suddenly—"</p> + +<p>The Vicar tapped his Testament again. "It has been <i>here</i> all the +time."</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes," the Major sighed impatiently. "Still, it's upsetting, +you'll admit."</p> + +<p>"The end of the world!" Miss Marty gripped her apron, as if to cast +it over her head.</p> + +<p>"The Millennium, Miss Marty, is not the end of the world."</p> + +<p>"Oh, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>"It merely means that Satan will be bound for a thousand years to +come."</p> + +<p>"If that's all"—Miss Marty walked to the bell-rope—"there's no harm +in ringing for Scipio to bring in the omelet."</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon?" The Vicar, not for the first time, found it +difficult to follow Miss Marty's train of thought.</p> + +<p>"Scipio never repeats what he hears at table: I'll say that for him. +And I believe in feeding people up."</p> + +<p>The Vicar turned to Major Hymen, who had pushed back his chair and +was staring at the tablecloth from under a puckered brow.</p> + +<p>"I fear this has come upon you somewhat suddenly: but my first +thought, as soon as I had convinced myself—"</p> + +<p>"Thank you, Vicar. I appreciate that, of course."</p> + +<p>"And, after all—when you come to think of it—an event of this +magnitude, happening in your mayoralty—"</p> + +<p>"Will they knight him, do you think?" asked Miss Marty.</p> + +<p>While the Vicar considered his answer, on top of this interruption +came another—Scipio entering with the omelet. Now the entrance of +the Major's omelet was a daily ritual. It came on a silver dish, +heated by a small silver spirit-lamp, on a tray covered by a spotless +linen cloth. Scipio, its cook and compounder, bore it with +professional pride, supporting the dish on one palm bent backwards, +and held accurately level with his shoulder; whence, by a curious and +quite indescribable turn of the wrist (Scipio was double-jointed), +during which for one fearful tenth of a second they seemed to hang +upside down, he would bring tray, lamp, dish and omelet down with a +sweep, and deposit them accurately in front of the Major's plate, at +the same instant bringing his heels together and standing at +attention for his master's approval.</p> + +<p>"Well done, Scipio!" the Major would say, nine days out of ten.</p> + +<p>But to-day he pushed the tray from him pettishly, ignoring Scipio.</p> + +<p>"You'll excuse me"—he turned to the Vicar—"but if what you say is +correct (you may go, Scipio) it puts me in a position of some +responsibility."</p> + +<p>"I felt sure you would see it in that light. It's a responsibility +for me, too."</p> + +<p>"To-day is the twenty-fifth. We have little more than a month."</p> + +<p>"What am I to say in church next Sunday?"</p> + +<p>"Why, as for that, you must say nothing. Good Heavens! is this a +time for adding to the disquietude of men's minds?"</p> + +<p>"I had thought," the Vicar confessed, "of memorialising the +Government."</p> + +<p>"Addington!" The Major's tone whenever he had occasion to mention Mr. +Addington was a study in scornful expression. He himself had once +memorialised the Prime Minister for a couple of nineteen-pounders +which, with the two on the Old Fort, would have made our harbour +impregnable. "Addington! It's hard on you, I know," he went on +sympathetically, "to keep a discovery like this to yourself. But we +might tell Hansombody."</p> + +<p>"Why Hansombody?" For the second time a suspicion crossed the +Vicar's mind that his hearers were confusing the Millennium with some +infectious ailment.</p> + +<p>"It is bound to affect his practice," suggested Miss Marty.</p> + +<p>"To be sure," the Major chimed in. As a matter of fact, he attached +great importance to the apothecary's judgment, and was wont to lean +on it, though not too ostentatiously. "It can hardly fail to affect +his practice. I think, in common justice, Hansombody ought to be +told; that is, if you are quite sure of your ground."</p> + +<p>"Sure?" The Vicar opened his Testament afresh and plunged into an +explanation. "And forty-two months," he wound up, "are forty-two +months, unless you prefer to fly in the face of Revelation."</p> + +<p>His demonstration fairly staggered the Major. "My good sir, <i>where</i> +did you say? Patmos? Now, if anyone had come to me a week ago and +told me—Martha, ring for Scipio, please, and tell him to fetch me my +hat."</p> + +<p>Although the Major and the Vicar had as good as made solemn agreement +to impart their discovery to no one but Mr. Hansombody; and, although +Miss Marty admittedly (and because, as she explained, no one had +forbidden her) imparted it to Scipio and again to Cai Tamblyn in the +course of the morning; yet, knowing Troy, I hesitate to blame her +that before noon the whole town was discussing the Millennium, notice +of which (it appeared) had come down to the Mayor by a private advice +and in Government cipher.</p> + +<p>"But what <i>is</i> a Millennium?" asked someone of Gunner Sobey (our +readiest man).</p> + +<p>"It means a thousand years," answered Gunner Sobey; "and then, if +you're lucky, you gets a pension accordin'."</p> + +<p>Miss Marty confessed later that she had confided the secret to +Scipio. Now Scipio, a sentimental soul, cherished a passion. +In church every Sunday he sat behind his master and in full view of a +board on the wall of the south aisle whereon in scarlet letters on a +buff ground were emblazoned certain bequests and charities left to +the parish by the pious dead. The churchwardens who had set up this +list, with the date, September 1757, and attested it with their +names, had prudently left a fair blank space thereunder for +additions. Often, during the Vicar's sermons, poor Scipio's gaze had +dwelt on this blank space. Maybe the scarlet lettering above it +fascinated him. Negroes are notoriously fond of scarlet. But out +upon me for so mean a guess at his motives! Scipio, regarding this +board Sunday by Sunday, saw in imagination his own name added to that +glorious roll. He had a few pounds laid by. He owned neither wife +nor child. Why should it not be? He was black: but a black man's +money passed current as well as a white man's. Might not his name, +Scipio Johnson, stand some day and be remembered as well as that of +Joshua Milliton, A.M. (whatever A.M. might mean), who in 1714 had +bequeathed moneys to provide, every Whit-Sunday and Christmas, +"twelve white loaves of half a peck to as many virtuous poor widows"?</p> + +<p>So when Miss Marty confided the news to him in the pantry where, as +always at ten in the morning, he was engaged in cleaning the plate, +Scipio's hand shook so violently that the silver sugar-basin slipped +from his hold and, crashing down upon the breakfast-tray, broke two +cups and the slop-basin into small fragments.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Scipio!" Miss Marty's two hands went up in horrified dismay. +"How could you be so careless!"</p> + +<p>"The Millennium, miss!"</p> + +<p>"We can never replace it—never!"</p> + +<p>Scipio gazed at the tray: but what he saw was a shattered dream—a +cracked board strewn with fragmentary scarlet letters and flourishes, +"brief flourishes."—"Ole man Satan is among us sho 'nuff, Miss +Marty: among us and kickin' up Saint's Delight, because his time is +short. I was jes' thinkin' of the widows, miss."</p> + +<p>"You have spoilt the set… eh? <i>what</i> widows? You don't mean to +tell me that Satan—?"</p> + +<p>Miss Marty broke off and gazed at Scipio with dawning suspicion, +distrust, apprehension. She had never completely reconciled herself +with the poor fellow's colour. The Major, in moments of irritation, +would address him as "You black limb of Satan." He came from the +Gold Coast, and she had heard strange stories of that happily +distant, undesirable shore; stories of devil-worship, and—was it +there they practised suttee? What did he mean by that allusion to +widows? And why had he turned pale—yes, pale—when she announced +the Evil One's approaching overthrow?</p> + +<p>Miss Marty left him to pick up the pieces, and withdrew in some haste +to the kitchen. Then, half an hour later, while rolling out the +paste for a pie-crust, she imparted the news to Lavinia.</p> + +<p>"It's to happen on May-day, Lavinia. The Major had word of it this +morning, and—only think!—Satan is to be bound for a thousand +years."</p> + +<p>"Law, miss!" said Lavinia. "Apprentice?"</p> + +<p>Cai Tamblyn heard of it in the garden, which was really a small +flagged courtyard leading to the terrace, which again was really a +small, raised platform with a table and a couple of chairs, where the +Major sometimes smoked his pipe and overlooked the harbour and the +shipping. Along each side of the courtyard ran a flower-bed, and in +these Cai Tamblyn grew tulips and verbenas, according to the season, +and kept them scrupulously weeded. He was stooping over his tulips +when Miss Marty told him of the Millennium.</p> + +<p>"What's that?" he asked, picking up a slug and jerking it across the +harbour wall.</p> + +<p>"It's a totally different thing from the end of the world. To begin +with, Satan is to be taken and bound for a thousand years."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" said Cai Tamblyn with fine contempt. "<i>Him!</i>"</p> + + +<br> +<br> +<p><a name="5"></a> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER IV.</h3> +<br> + +<h4>HOW THE TROY GALLANTS CHALLENGED THE LOOE DIEHARDS.</h4> + +<p>That it was the Major's idea goes without saying. At Looe they had +neither the originality for it nor the enterprise.</p> + +<p>I have already told you with what sardonic emphasis he quoted the +saying that 'twas hardly worth while for Great Britain to go to war +merely to prove that she could put herself in a good posture for +defence. The main secret of strategy, he would add, is to impose +your idea of the campaign on your enemy; to take the initiative out +of his hands; to throw him on the defensive and keep him nervously +speculating what move of yours may be a feint and what a real attack. +If the Ministry had given the Major his head, so to speak, Agincourt +at least might have been repeated.</p> + +<p>But since it enforced him to wait on the enemy's movements, at least +(said he) let us be sure that our defence is secure. Concerning the +Troy battery he had not a doubt; but over the defences of Looe he +could not but feel perturbed. To be sure, Looe's main battery stood +out of reach of harm, but with the compensating disadvantage of being +able to inflict none. This seemed to him a grave engineering +blunder: but to impart his misgivings to an officer so sensitive as +Captain Aeneas Pond of the East and West Looe Volunteer Artillery was +a delicate matter, and cost him much anxious thought.</p> + +<p>At length he hit on a plan at once tactful and so bold that it +concealed his tact. Between Looe and Troy, but much nearer to Looe, +lies Talland Cove, a pretty recess of the coast much favoured in +those days by smugglers as being lonely and well sheltered, with a +nicely shelving beach on which, at almost any state of the tide, an +ordinary small boat could be run and her cargo discharged with the +greatest ease. A shelving ridge on the eastern side of the cove had +only to be known to be avoided, and the run of sea upon the beach +could be disregarded in any but a strong southerly wind.</p> + +<p>Now, where the free-traders could so easily land a cargo, it stood to +reason that Bonaparte (were he so minded) could land an invading +force. Nay, once on a time the French had actually forced this very +spot. A short way up the valley behind the cove stood a mill; and of +that mill this story was told. About the time of the Wars of the +Roses, the miller there gave entertainment to a fellow-miller from +the Breton coast opposite, who had crossed over—or so he pretended— +to learn by what art the English ground finer corn than the French. +Coming by hazard to this mill above Talland, he was well entertained +for a month or more And dismissed with a blessing; but only to return +to his own country, collect a band of men and cross to Talland Cove, +where on a Christmas Eve he surprised his late host at supper, bound +him, haled him down to the shore, carried him off to Brittany, and +there held him at ransom. The ransom was paid, and our Cornish +miller, returning, built himself a secret cupboard behind the chimney +for a hiding-place against another such mishap. That hiding-place +yet existed, and formed (as the Major well knew) a capital +store-chamber for the free-traders.</p> + +<p>The Major, then, having carefully studied Talland Cove, with its +approaches, and the lie of the land to the east and west and +immediately behind it, sat down and indited the following letter:</p> +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class="noindent">"Dear Pond,—I have been thinking over the military situation, + and am of opinion that if the enemy once effected a lodgment in + Looe, we in Troy might have difficulty in dislodging him. + Have you considered the danger of Talland Cove and the + accessibility of your town from that quarter? And would you and + your corps entertain the idea of a descent of my corps upon + Talland one of these nights as a friendly test?—Believe me, + yours truly,"<br> +<span class="ind15">"Sol Hymen (<i>Major</i>)."</span></p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + +<p> "To Captain Aeneas Pond, Commanding the East and West Looe + Volunteer Artillery."</p> + +<p> +To this Captain Pond made answer:</p> +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class = "noindent"> "Dear Hymen,—The military situation here is practically + unchanged. We have had some bronchial trouble among the older + members of the corps in consequence of the severe east winds + which prevailed up to last week; but on the whole we have + weathered the winter beyond expectation. A slight outbreak of + whooping-cough towards the end of February was confined to the + juveniles of the town, and left us unaffected.<br><br> + + "Seeing that I make a practice of walking over to Talland to + bathe at least twice a week during the summer months, I ought to + be acquainted with the dangers of the Cove, as well as its + accessibility. The temperature of the water is of + extraordinarily low range, and will compare in the mean (I am + told) with the Bay of Naples. My informant was speaking of + ordinary years. Vesuvius in eruption would no doubt send the + figures up.<br><br> + + "By all means march your men over to Talland; and if the weather + be tolerable we will await you there and have a dinner ready at + the Sloop. Our Assurance Fund has a surplus this year, which, + in my opinion, would be well expended in entertaining our + brothers-in-arms. But do not make the hour too late, or I shall + have trouble with the Doctor. What do you say to 3.30 p.m., any + day after this week?—Yours truly,<br><br> +<span class = "ind15">Aen. Pond.</span></p> +</blockquote></blockquote> +<p> "To the Worshipful the Mayor of Troy (Major S. Hymen), + Commanding the Troy Volunteer Artillery."</p> + +<p>The Major replied:</p> + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class = "noindent"> "Dear Pond,—In speaking of the enemy, I referred to the Corsican + and his minions rather than to the whooping-cough or any similar + epidemic. It struck me that the former (being flat-bottomed) + might with great ease effect a landing in Talland Cove and fall + on your flank in the small hours of the morning, creating a + situation with which, single-handed, you might find it difficult + to cope. My suggestion then would be that, as a test, we + arranged a night together for a surprise attack, our corps here + acting as a friendly foe.<br><br> + + "With so gallant an enemy I feel a diffidence in discussing the + bare contingency of our success. But it may reassure the + non-combatant portion of your population in East and West Looe + if I add that 72 <i>per centum</i> of my corps are married men, and + that I accept no recruit without careful inquiry into character.<br><br> + + "By direct assault I know you to be impregnable. The reef off + your harbour would infallibly wreck any ship that tried to + approach within the range of your battery (270 point-blank, I + believe); and my experience with a picnic party last summer + convinced me that to discharge the complement of even half a + dozen boats by daylight on your quay requires a degree of method + which in a night attack would almost certainly be lacking. + Our boats would not be flat bottomed, but only partially so: + enough for practical purposes.<br><br> + + "I do not apprehend any casualties. With a little forethought we + may surely avoid the confusion incident to a night surprise, + while carrying it out in all essentials. But I may mention + that we have a well-found hospital in Troy, that we should bring + our own stretcher-party, and that our honorary surgeon, + Mr. Hansombody, is a licentiate of the Apothecaries' Hall, in + London.—I am, my dear Pond, yours truly,"<br><br> +<span class = "ind15">"Sol. Hymen (<i>Major</i>)."</span></p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + +<p>"Confound this fire-eater!" sighed Captain Pond. "I knew, when they +told me he had founded a hospital, he wouldn't be satisfied till he'd +filled it." Yet he could scarcely decline the challenge.</p> + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class = "noindent"> "My dear Major,—In these critical times, when Great Britain + calls upon her sons to consolidate their ranks in face of the + Invader, I should have thought it wiser to keep as many as + possible in health and fighting condition than to incur the + uncertain risks of such a nocturnal adventure as you propose. + I think it due to myself to make this clear, and you will credit + me that I have, or had, no other reason for demurring. It does + not become me, however, to argue with my superior in military + rank; and again, the tone of your last communication makes it + impossible for me to decline without bringing the spirit of my + Corps under suspicion. I cannot do them this injustice. + His Majesty, I dare to say, has no braver, no more gallant + subjects, than the inhabitants of East and West Looe; and if, or + when, you choose to invade us you may count on a determined + resistance and, at its conclusion, on a hearty invitation to + supper, or breakfast, as the length of the operations may + dictate.—I am, yours truly,"<br> +<span class = "ind15">"Aen. Pond (<i>Capt</i>. E. and W.L.V.A.)."</span><br><br> + + "P.S.—If you will accept a suggestion, it is that on the night + of the 30th of April, or in the early hours of May morning, + large numbers of our inhabitants fare out to the neighbouring + farmhouses to eat cream and observe other unwholesome but + primitive and interesting ceremonies before day-break. + A similar custom, I hear, prevails at Troy. Now it occurs to me + that if we agreed upon that date for our surprise attack, we + should, so to speak, be killing two birds with one stone, and at + a season when the night air in some degree loses its + insalubrity.<br><br> + + "P.P.S.—You will, of course, take care—it is the essence of our + agreement—that all ammunition shall be strictly blank. + And pray bring your full band. Though superfluous before and + during the surprise, their strains will greatly enhance the + subsequent festivities."<br></p> +</blockquote></blockquote> +<br> + +<p>Thus did Captain Pond accept our challenge. The Major acknowledged +its acceptance in the following brief note:</p> + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class = "noindent"> "My dear Pond,—Your letter has highly gratified me. + Between this and April 30th I will make occasion to meet you and + arrange details. Meanwhile, could you discover and send the + correct words and tune of an old song I remember hearing sung, + when I was a boy, in honour of your town? It was called, I + think, 'The George of Looe'; and if between this and then our + musicians learnt to play it, I daresay your men would appreciate + the compliment from their (temporary) foes.—Yours truly,"<br> +<span class = "ind15">"Sol. Hymen (<i>Major</i>)."</span></p> +</blockquote></blockquote><br> + +<p>But this was before our Vicar's announcement of the Millennium.</p> + +<p>Captain Pond promised to obtain, if possible, the words and music of +the old song. "Courtesies such as yours," he wrote, "refine the +spirit, while they mitigate the ferocity, of warfare."</p> + +<br> +<br> +<p><a name="6"></a> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER V.</h3> +<br> + + +<h4>INTERFERENCE OF A GUERNSEY MERCHANT.</h4> + +<p>A smaller man than Major Hymen—I allude to character rather than to +stature—had undoubtedly postponed a military manoeuvre on finding it +likely to clash with the Millennium, an event so incalculable and +conceivably so disconcerting to the best-laid plans: and, indeed, for +something like forty-eight hours the Major was in two minds about +writing to Captain Pond and hinting at a postponement.</p> + +<p>But in the end he characteristically chose the stronger line. +I believe the handsome language of Captain Pond's last letter decided +him. His was no cheap imitation of the grand manner. Magnificently, +spaciously—too spaciously, perhaps, considering the width of our +streets—it enshrined a real conception of Man's proper dignity. +Here was an obligation in which honour met and competed with +politeness: and he must fulfil it though the heavens fell. Moreover, +he could not but be aware, during the month of April, that the town +had its eye on him, hoping for a sign. He and the Vicar and Mr. +Hansombody had bound each other to secrecy; nevertheless some inkling +of the secret had leaked out. The daily current of gossip in the +streets no longer kept its cheerful, equable flow. Citizens avoided +each other's eyes, and talked either in hushed voices or with an +almost febrile vehemence on any subject but that which lay closest to +their thoughts.</p> + +<p>But never did our Mayor display such strength, such unmistakable +greatness, as during this, the last month—alas!—fate granted us to +possess him. Men eyed him on his daily walk, but he for his part +eyed the weather: and the weather continued remarkably fine for the +time of year.</p> + +<p>So warm, so still, indeed, were the evenings, that in the third week +of April he began to take his dessert, after dinner, out of doors on +the terrace overlooking the harbour; and would sit and smoke there, +alone with a book, until the shadows gathered and it grew too dark to +read print.</p> + +<p>"And you may tell Scipio to bring me out a bottle of the green-sealed +Madeira," he commanded, on the evening of the twentieth.</p> + +<p>"The green-sealed Madeira?" echoed Miss Marty. "You know, of course, +that there is but a dozen or so left?"</p> + +<p>"A dozen precisely; and to-day is the twentieth. That leaves"—the +Major drummed with his fingers on the mahogany—"a bottle a night and +one over. That last one I reserve to drink on the evening of May-day +if all goes well. One must risk something."</p> + +<p>"Solomon!"</p> + +<p>"Eh?" The Major looked up in surprise. Although a kinswoman, Miss +Marty had never before dared to address him by his Christian name. +"One must risk something; or rather, I should say, one must leave a +margin. If Hansombody calls, you may send out the brown sherry."</p> + +<p>"Forgive me, cousin. I see you going about your daily business, calm +and collected, as though no shadow hung on us—"</p> + +<p>"A man in my position has certain responsibilities, my dear Martha."</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes; I admire you for it. Do not think that for one moment I +have failed in paying you that tribute. I often wish," pursued Miss +Marty, somewhat incoherently, "that I had been born a man. I trust +the aspiration is not unwomanly. I see you going about as if nothing +were happening or likely to happen, and me all the while half dead in +my bed, and hearing the clock strike and expecting it every moment. +As if the French weren't bad enough! And the Vicar may say what he +likes, but when I hear you ordering up the green-sealed Madeira I +know you're like me, and in your heart of hearts can't see much +difference between it and the end of the world, for all the brave +face you put on it. Oh, I dare say it's different when one happens +to be a man," wound up Miss Marty, "but what <i>I</i> want to know is why +couldn't we be let alone and go on comfortably?"</p> + +<p>The Major rose and flicked a crumb or two from the knees of his +pantaloons. For the moment he seemed about to answer her, but +thought better of it and left the room without speech, taking his +napkin with him.</p> + +<p>To tell the truth, he had been near to giving way. In his heart he +echoed Miss Marty's protest; and it touched him with an accent of +reproach—faint indeed; an accent and no more—which yet he had +detected and understood. Was he not in some sort responsible? +Would the Millennium be imminent to-day—or, if imminent, would it be +wearing so momentous an aspect?—if at the last Mayor-choosing he had +modestly declined to be re-elected (for the fifth successive year), +and had stood aside in favour of some worthy but less eminent +citizen? Hansombody, for instance? Hansombody admired him, idolised +him, with a devotion almost canine. Yet Hansombody might be expected +to cherish hopes of the mayoral succession sooner or later, for one +brief year at any rate; and for a few moments after acceding for the +sixth time to the unanimous request of the burgesses, the Major had +almost fancied that Hansombody's feelings were hurt. Hansombody +would have made a competent mayor; provoking comparison, of course, +but certainly not provoking the jealousy of the gods. It is +notoriously the mountain top, the monarch oak that attracts the +lightning. Impossible to think of Hansombody attracting the +lightning, with his bedside manner!</p> + +<p>The Major seated himself in his favourite chair on the terrace, +spread his napkin over his knees and mused, while Scipio set out the +decanters and glasses.</p> + +<p>His gaze, travelling over the low parapet of the quay-wall, rested on +the quiet harbour, the ships swinging slowly with the tide, the +farther shore touched with the sunset glory. Evensong, the close of +day, the end of deeds, the twilit passing of man—all these the +scene, the hour suggested. And yet (the Major poured out a glass of +the green-sealed Madeira) this life was good and desirable.</p> + +<p>The Major's garden (as I have said) was a narrow one, in width about +half the depth of his house, terminating in the "Terrace" and a +narrow quay-door, whence a ladder led down to the water. Alongside +this garden ran the rear wall of the Custom House, which abutted over +the water, also with a ladder reaching down to the foreshore, and not +five yards from the Mayor's. On the street side one window of the +Custom House raked the Mayor's porch; in the rear another and smaller +window overlooked his garden, and this might have been a nuisance had +the Collector of Customs, Mr. Pennefather, been a less considerate +neighbour. But no one minded Mr. Pennefather, a little, round, +self-depreciating official who, before coming to Troy, had served as +clerk in the Custom House at Penzance, and so, as you might say, had +learnt his business in a capital school: for the good feeling between +the Customs officials and the free-traders of Mount's Bay, and the +etiquette observed in their encounters, were a by-word throughout the +Duchy.</p> + +<p>The Major, glancing up as he sipped his Madeira and catching sight of +Mr. Pennefather at his window, nodded affably.</p> + +<p>"Ah! Good evening, Mr. Collector!"</p> + +<p>"Good evening, Major! You'll excuse my seeming rudeness in +overlooking you. To tell the truth, I had just closed my books, and +the sight of your tulips—"</p> + +<p>"A fair show this year—eh?" The Major took pride in his tulips.</p> + +<p>"Magnificent! I was wondering how you will manage when the bulbs +deteriorate; for, of course, there's no renewing them from Holland, +nor any prospect of it while this war lasts."</p> + +<p>The Major sipped his wine. "Between ourselves, Mr. Collector, I have +heard that forbidden goods find their way into this country somehow. +Eh?"</p> + +<p>The Collector laughed. "But the price, Major? That is where it hits +us, even in the matter of tulips. War is a terrible business."</p> + +<p>"It has been called the sport of kings," answered the Major, crossing +his legs with an air of careless greatness, and looking more like the +Prince Regent than ever.</p> + +<p>"I have sometimes wondered, being of a reflective turn, on the—er— +far-reaching consequences of events which, to the casual eye, might +appear insignificant. An infant is born in the remote island of +Corsica. Years roll on, and we find our gardens denuded of a bulb, +the favourite habitat of which must lie at least eight hundred miles +from Corsica as the crow flies. How unlikely was it, sir, that you +or I, considering these tulips with what I may perhaps call our +finite intelligence—"</p> + +<p>"Step around, Mr. Collector, and have a look at them. You can unfold +your argument over a glass of wine, if you will do me that pleasure." +The Major had a high opinion of Mr. Pennefather's conversation; he +was accustomed to say that it made you think.</p> + +<p>"If you are sure, sir, it will not incommode you?"</p> + +<p>"Not in the least. I expect Hansombody will join us presently. +Scipio, bring out the brown sherry."</p> + +<p>Now the Major had not invited Dr. Hansombody; yet that he expected +him is no less certain than that, while he spoke, Dr. Hansombody was +actually lifting the knocker of the front door.</p> + +<p>How did this happen? The Major—so used was he to the phenomenon— +accepted it as a matter of course. Hansombody (good soul!) had a +wonderful knack of turning up when wanted. But what attracted him? +Was it perchance that magnetic force of will which our Major, and all +truly great men, unconsciously exert? No; the explanation was a +simpler one, though the Major would have been inexpressibly shocked +had he suspected it.</p> + +<p>Miss Marty and Dr. Hansombody were mutually enamoured.</p> + +<p>They never told their love. To acknowledge it nakedly to one +another—nay, even to themselves—had been treason. What? +Could Miss Marty disturb the comfort, could her swain destroy the +confidence, could they together forfeit the esteem, of their common +hero? In converse they would hymn antiphonally his virtues, his +graces of mind and person; even as certain heathen fanatics, wounding +themselves in honour of their idol, will drown the pain by loud +clashings of cymbals.</p> + +<p>They never told their love, and yet, as the old song says:</p> + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class = "noindent"> "But if ne'er so close ye wall him,<br> +<span class = "ind2"> Do the best that ye may,</span><br> + Blind Love, if so ye call him,<br> +<span class = "ind2"> He will find out his way."</span></p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + +<p>Miss Marty had found out a way.</p> + +<p>The Major's house, as you have been told, looked down the length of +Fore Street; and on the left hand (the harbour side) of Fore Street, +at some seventy yards' distance, Dr. Hansombody resided over his +dispensary, or, as he preferred to call it, his "Medical Hall." +The house stood aligned with its neighbours but overtopped them by an +attic storey; and in the north side of this attic a single window +looked up the street to the Major's windows—Miss Marty's among the +rest—and was visible from them.</p> + +<p>Behind this attic window the Doctor, when released from professional +labours, would sit and read, or busy himself in arranging his cases +of butterflies, of which he had a famous collection; and somehow—I +cannot tell you when or how, except that it began in merest +innocence—Miss Marty had learnt to signal with her window-blind and +the Doctor to reply with his. This evening, for instance, by +lowering her blind to the foot of the second pane from the top, Miss +Marty had telegraphed,—</p> + +<p>"The Major requests you to call and take wine with him."</p> + +<p>The Doctor drew his blind down rapidly and as rapidly raised it +again. This said, "I come at once," and Miss Marty knew that it +added, "On the wings of love!"</p> + +<p>A slight agitation of the lower left-hand corner of her blind +supplemented the message thus,—</p> + +<p>"There will be brown sherry."</p> + +<p>"Then will I also call to-morrow," said the Doctor's blind, +roguishly, meaning that if the Major indulged in brown sherry (which +never agreed with him) this convivial visit would almost certainly be +followed by a professional one. Miss Marty, having no signal for the +green-sealed Madeira, postponed explanation, and drew her blind +midway down the window. The Doctor did the same with his. +This signal and its answer invariably closed their correspondence; +but what it meant, what tender message it conveyed, remained an +uncommunicated secret. By it Miss Marty—but shall I reveal the +arcana of that virgin breast? Let us be content to know that +whatever it conveyed was, on her part, womanly; on his, gallant and +even dashing.</p> + +<p>The Doctor lost no time in fetching his hat and gold-topped cane. +He knew the Major's brown sherry; it had twice made a voyage to the +West Indies. He hied him up the street with alacrity.</p> + +<p>The Collector, though he had the worse of the start, was not slow. +He also had tasted the Major's brown sherry. He closed his ledgers, +locked his desk, caught up his hat, and was closing the Custom House +door behind him when, from the top of the Custom House steps, he saw +the Major's door open to admit Dr. Hansombody.</p> + +<p>Ye who listen with credulity to the whispers of fancy and pursue in +imagination the pleasures of hope, attend to the story of Dr. +Hansombody, Mr. Pennefather, and the brown sherry!</p> + +<p>"Dr. Hansombody?" With her own hand Miss Marty opened the door, and +her start of surprise was admirably affected. (Ah, Miss Marty! +Who was it rated Lavinia this morning for a verbal fib, until the +poor child dropped her head upon the kitchen table and with sobs +confessed herself the chief of sinners?) But even as she welcomed +the apothecary, her gaze fell past him upon the form of a stranger +who, sauntering up the street, had paused at the gate to scan the +Major's house-front.</p> + +<p>"I ask your pardon." The stranger, a long, lean, lantern-jawed man, +raised his hat and addressed her with a strong French accent. +"But does Mr. Hymen inhabit here?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir; Major Hymen—that is to say the Mayor—lives here."</p> + +<p>"Ah! he is also the Maire? So much the better." He drew out a card. +"Will it please you, mademoiselle, to convey this to him?"</p> + +<p>Standing on the third step he held up the card. Miss Marty took it +and read, "M. Cesar Dupin."</p> + +<p>"Of Guernsey," added M. Dupin, rubbing his long unshaven chin while +he stole a long look at the Doctor. "It is understood that I come +only to lodge a complaint."</p> + +<p>"To be sure—to be sure," agreed the Doctor, hurriedly. "A Guernsey +merchant," he whispered.… "You will convey my excuses to the +Major; an unexpected visitor—I quite understand."</p> + +<p>He made a motion to retire. At the same moment the Collector, after +scanning the stranger from the Custom House porch, himself unseen, +unlocked his door again without noise, re-entered his office and +delicately drew down the blind of the little window overlooking the +Major's garden.</p> + +<p>"There is the parlour," Miss Marty made answer in an undertone. +"This gentleman may not detain the Major long." She turned to the +stranger. "Your business, sir, is doubtless private?"</p> + +<p>"I should prefer."</p> + +<p>"Quite so." She raised her voice and called, "Scipio! Scipio! +Ah, there you are! Take this gentleman's card out to the terrace and +inform the Major that he desires an interview."</p> +<br> +<p> +"Why, hallo!" exclaimed the Major, glancing up at the sound of a +blind being drawn above, in the Custom House window. "What the deuce +is delaying Pennefather?"</p> + +<p>While he speculated, Scipio emerged from the house, bearing in one +hand a decanter of brown sherry, and in the other a visitor's card.</p> + +<p>"Eh—what? M. Cesar Dupin?" The Major, holding the card almost at +arm's length, conned it with a puzzled frown.</p> + +<p>"From Guernsey, Major."</p> + +<p>"Good Lord! And I've just invited Pennefather!" The Major rose +half-way from his chair with a face of dismay.</p> + +<p>Scipio glanced up at the Custom House window. He, too, had caught +the sound of the drawn blind.</p> + +<p>"Mas' Pennefather, Major, if you'll excuse me, he see a hole t'ro' a +ladder, but not t'ro' a brick wall. Shall I show the genelman in?"</p> + +<br><p> +"I fear," began Miss Marty, as the Doctor took a seat in the parlour, +"I greatly fear that Scipio has carried the brown sherry out to the +terrace."</p> + +<p>Dr. Hansombody smiled as a lover but sighed as a connoisseur.</p> + +<p>"There is the Fra Angelico, however." She stepped to a panelled +cupboard on the right of the chimney-piece. "Made from my own +recipe," she added archly.</p> + +<p>The Doctor lifted a hand in faint protest; but already she had set a +glass before him. He knew the Fra Angelico of old. It was a +specific against catarrh, and he had more than once prescribed it for +Scipio.</p> + +<p>"Wine is wine," continued Miss Marty, reaching down the bottle. +"And, after all, when one knows what it is made of, as in this case— +that seems to me the great point."</p> + +<p>"You mustn't think—" began the Doctor.</p> + +<p>"I must plead guilty"—Miss Marty poured out a glassful—"if its name +suggests a foreign origin. You men, I know, profess a preference for +foreign wines; and so, humorously, I hit on the name of Fra Angelico, +from the herb angelica, which is its main ingredient. In reality, as +I can attest, it is English to the core."</p> + +<p>The Doctor lifted his glass and set it down again.</p> + +<p>"You will join me?" he asked, pointing to the decanter and +temporising.</p> + +<p>"Pardon me. I indulge but occasionally: when I have a cold."</p> + +<p>"And the Major?"</p> + +<p>"He pleads habit. He says he is wedded to the vintages of France and +Spain. 'What?' I rally him, 'when those two nations are at war with +us? And you call yourself a patriot?' He permits these railleries."</p> + +<p>"He is a man in a thousand!"</p> + +<p>"There is no man like him!"</p> + +<p>"If we exclude a certain resemblance—"</p> + +<p>"You refer to the Prince Regent? But I was thinking only of <i>moral</i> +grandeur."</p> + +<p>"True. All else, if one may say so without disloyalty, is but +skin-deep."</p> + +<p>"Superficial."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, the expression is preferable, and I ask your leave to +substitute it."</p> + +<p>"Solomon, my kinsman, is the noblest of men."</p> + +<p>"And you, Miss Marty, the best of women!" cried the Doctor, taking +fire and a sip of the Fra Angelico together, and gulping the latter +down heroically. "I drink to you; nay, if I dared, I would go even +farther—</p> + +<p>"No, no, I beg of you!" Her eyes, downcast before this sudden +assault, let fall two happy tears, but a feeble gesture of the hand +besought his mercy. "Let us talk of <i>him</i>," she went on +breathlessly. "His elevation of character—"</p> + +<p>"If he were to marry, now?" the Doctor suggested. "Have you thought +of that?"</p> + +<p>"Sometimes," she admitted, with a flutter of the breath, which +sounded almost like a sigh.</p> + +<p>"It would serve to perpetuate—"</p> + +<p>"But where to find one worthy of him? She must be capable of rising +to his level; rather, of continuing there."</p> + +<p>"You are sure that is necessary? Now, in my experience," the Doctor +inclined his head to one side and rubbed his chin softly between +thumb and forefinger—a favourite trick of his when diagnosing a +case—"in my observation, rather, some disparity of temper, taste, +character, may almost be postulated of a completely happy alliance; +as in chemistry you bring together an acid and an alkali, and, always +provided they don't explode—"</p> + +<p>"<i>He</i> would never be satisfied with that. Believe me, the woman he +condescends upon must, in return for that happy privilege, surrender +her whole fate into his hands. Beneath his deference to our sex he +carries an imperious will, and would demand no less."</p> + +<p>"There <i>is</i> a little bit of that about him, now you mention it," +assented the Doctor.</p> + +<p>"But let us not cheat—" Miss Marty checked herself suddenly. +"Let us not vex ourselves with any such apprehensions. He will never +marry, I am convinced. I cannot imagine him in the light of a +parent—with offspring, for instance. Rather, when I see him in his +regimentals, or, again, in his mayoral robe and chain—you have +noticed how they become him?—"</p> + +<p>The Doctor admitted, with a faint sigh, that he had.</p> + +<p>"Well, then, he puts me in mind of that—what d'you call it, which +the poets tell us is reproduced but once in several hundred years?"</p> + +<p>"The blossoming aloe?" suggested the Doctor.</p> + +<p>Miss Marty shook her head. "It's not a plant—it's a kind of bird. +It begins with 'P, h,'—and you think of Dublin."</p> + +<p>"Let me see—Phelim? No, I have it! Phoenix."</p> + +<p>"That's it—Phoenix. And when it's going to die it lights a fire and +sits down upon it and another springs up from the ashes."</p> + +<p>"But I don't see how that applies to the Major."</p> + +<p>"No-o?" queried Miss Marty, dubiously. "Well, not in every +particular; but the point is, there's only one at a time."</p> + +<p>"The same might be said," urged the Doctor, delicately, "of other +individual members of the Town Council; with qualifications, of +course."</p> + +<p>"And somehow I feel—I can't help a foreboding—that if ever we lose +him it will be in some such way."</p> + +<p>"Miss Marty!" The Doctor stood up, with horror-stricken face.</p> + +<p>"There, now! You may call me fanciful, but I can't help it. +And you've spilled the Fra Angelico! Let me pour you out another +glassful."</p> + +<p>"We must all die," answered the Doctor inconsequently, not yet master +of himself.</p> + +<p>"Except a few Bible characters," said Miss Marty, filling his glass. +"But what the town would do without <i>him</i> I can't think. In a sense +he <i>is</i> the town."</p> + +<p>A moment before the Doctor had all but denied it; but now, overcome +by the thought of a world without the Major, he hid his face. For a +moment, if but in thought, he had been disloyal to his friend, his +hero!</p> + +<br><p> +Miss Marty said afterwards that, although not accustomed to prophesy +and humbly aware that it was out of her line, she must have spoken +under inspiration. She was wont also, when she recalled her +forebodings and the events that followed and so signally fulfilled +them, to regret that when the Guernsey merchant took his leave, an +hour later, she omitted to take note of his boots; it being an +article of faith with her that, in his traffic with mortals, the +Prince of Darkness could not help betraying himself by his cloven +hoof.</p> + +<p>In the garden meanwhile the Major and his guest were making very good +weather of it, as we say in Troy; the one with his Madeira, the other +with the brown sherry. I leave the reader to discern the gist of +their talk from its technicalities.</p> + +<p>"Three gross of ankers, you say?" queried the Major.</p> + +<p>"At four gallons the anker, and six francs the gallon."</p> + +<p>"It is a large venture."</p> + +<p>"And, for that reason, dirt cheap. To my knowledge there is not a +firm in Guernsey at this moment doing trade at less than seven francs +the gallon in parcels under five hundred gallons."</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes." The Major lit his pipe and puffed meditatively. "I am +not denying that. Only, you see, on our side these large operations +rather heighten the expense than diminish it, while they heighten the +risk enormously."</p> + +<p>"I do not see." M. Dupin crossed his legs and awaited an explanation.</p> + +<p>"It is simple. So many more tubs, so many more carriers; so many +more carriers, so much the more risk of including an informer. +One hundred carriers, say, I can lay hands on, knowing them all for +tried men. Beyond that number I rely on recommendations, often +carelessly given. The risk is more than trebled. And then, the fact +of my being Mayor—"</p> + +<p>"I should have thought it lessened the risk."</p> + +<p>"In a way, yes. But in case of miscarriage, the consequences must be +more severe. I will own that you tempt me. The tubs, you say, would +be ready slung."</p> + +<p>"Ready slung for carriage, man or horse, whichever you prefer, with +ropes, stones and six anchors for sinking in case of emergency. +We will allow for these if they are returned."</p> + +<p>"To tell the truth, since becoming chief magistrate of this borough, +I have rather set my face against these operations. It has seemed to +me more consonant.… And an operation on the scale you propose +could not be conducted without some degree of—er—audacity."</p> + +<p>"It means a forced run," assented M. Dupin.</p> + +<p>"If, on reflection—" the Major hesitated.</p> + +<p>"Excuse me, but there is no time. For reasons of our own, my firm +must clear the stuff before the end of April; that is why we offer it +at the price. Three gross, with six ankers of the colouring stuff +gratis—and the tubs ready slung. It must be 'yes' or 'no'; if you +decline, then I have another customer on the string."</p> + +<p>"The end of April, you say?" The Major refilled his glass and mused, +holding it up against the last gleam of daylight.</p> + +<p>"We could ship it on the 27th or 28th. The moon serves then. +Say that you run it on the night of the 30th?"</p> + +<p>"Of the 30th?" echoed the Major. "But on that night, of all others, +my hands are full. To begin with, we are half-expecting the +Millennium."</p> + +<p>"The Millennium, <i>hein</i>?" echoed M. Dupin in his turn. "I do not +know her."</p> + +<p>"It's not a boat," the Major explained. "It's a—well, in fact, we +are not altogether sure what it may turn out to be. But, setting +this aside, I am engaged to conduct a military operation on the night +of the 30th."</p> + +<p>"<i>Hein</i>?" M. Dupin eyed his host with interest. "A counter-stroke +to the First Consul—is that so?"</p> + +<p>"Well, not exactly a downright counter-stroke; although, if I had my +way… but in fact (and I mention it in confidence, of course) our +Artillery here is planning a surprise upon our neighbours of Looe, +the descent to be made upon Talland Cove."</p> + +<p>M. Dupin set down his glass. "But I am in luck to-night!" said he. +"You—I—we are all in luck!"</p> + +<p>"Forgive me, I do not see—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, decidedly, I am in very great luck! If only your neighbours of +Looe—they, too, have a corps of Artillery, I suppose?" M. Dupin +felt in his breast pocket and drew out a paper. "Quick! their +officer's name?"</p> + +<p>"A Captain Pond commands them: Captain Aeneas Pond."</p> + +<p>"Pond? Pond? See now, and I have an introduction to him! And you +have arranged to surprise him on the night of April 30th—and at +Talland Cove—when there will be no moon! Oh, damgood!"</p> + +<p>"But even yet I do not see," the Major protested.</p> + +<p>"Not quite. For the moment you do not see, quite; but in a little +while." M. Dupin leaned forward and tapped the Major's knee. +"Your Artillery? You can count on them?"</p> + +<p>"To the death."</p> + +<p>"How many?"</p> + +<p>"Nine score, without reckoning uniforms or stretcher-bearers."</p> + +<p>"Stretcher-bearers?"</p> + +<p>"For the wounded. And, of course—during the operation you propose— +we expect our corps to be depleted."</p> + +<p>"By the crews? But they will be <i>there</i>! It is of the essence of +your surprise that they, too, will return from Guernsey and join you +in time. Next, of the Looe Artillery, how many?"</p> + +<p>"You may put them down at seventy, all told."</p> + +<p>"One hundred and eighty, and seventy—that makes two hundred and +fifty; and the cognac at six francs a gallon; and this Captain Pond +commended to me for the deepest man in Looe! It is you—it is he—it +is I—it is all of us together that are in luck's way!" M. Dupin +leapt up, snapped his bony fingers triumphantly; then, thrusting his +hands beneath his coat-tails and clasping them, strode to and fro in +front of the Major, for all the world like a long-legged chanticleer.</p> + +<p>Ah, but wait a moment! Vainglorious bird of Gaul, or of the island +contiguous, wait a moment ere you crow before the Mayor of Troy!</p> + +<p>For a moment the Major lay back in his chair, to all appearance +stupefied, confounded. Then he too rose, his lips working, his hand +shaking for one instant only as with his pipe-stem he traced a +magnificent curve upon the evening sky.</p> + +<p>"Sit down!" he commanded. "Your plan is clever enough; but I have +another worth ten of it."</p> + +<p>And, laying down his pipe, this extraordinary man lifted the decanter +and refilled his glass to the brim without spilling a drop.</p> + +<p>What was the Major's plan? Wait again, and you shall see it evolved +in operation.</p> + + +<br> +<br> +<p><a name="7"></a> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER VI.</h3> +<br> + + +<h4>MALBROUCK S'EN VA.</h4> + +<p>"There is mischief of some sort brewing," said Mr. Smellie, the +Riding Officer.</p> + +<p>"You think so?" queried Mr. Pennefather, trimming a quill.</p> + +<p>"I'd stake my last shilling on it," said Mr. Smellie, slapping his +right boot with his riding-whip. "You, a family man, now—"</p> + +<p>"Eleven."</p> + +<p>"Quite so. Then you must know how it is with children; when they +look at you as though there was no such thing as original sin, it's +time to keep your eye lifting. Ten to one they're getting round you +with some new devilry. Well, that's the way with your Cornish."</p> +<br> +<p>Mr. Smellie came from Glasgow—he and his colleague, Mr. Lomax, the +Riding Officer of the Mevagissey district which lay next to ours. +The Government, it was understood, had chosen and sent them down to +us on the strength of their sense of humour—so different from any to +be found in the Duchy.</p> + +<p> +It certainly was different. To Mr. Smellie, we of Troy had been at +first but as children at play by the sea; in earnest over games so +infantile as to excite his wondering disdain. He wondered yet; but +insensibly—as might happen to a man astray in fairyland—his disdain +had taken a tinge of fear. Behind "the children sporting on the +shore," his ear had begun to catch the voice of unknown waters +rolling. They came, so to speak, along the sands, these children; +innocent seeming, hilariously intent on their make-believe; and then, +on a sudden, not once but a dozen times, he had found himself +tricked, duped, tripped up and cast on his back; to rise unhurt, +indeed, but clutching at impalpable air while the empty beach rang +with teasing laughter.</p> + +<p>It baffled him the more because, of his own sort, he had a strong +sense of humour. It was told of Mr. Pennefather, for instance, that +during his clerkship at Penzance the Custom House there had been +openly defied by John Carter, the famous smuggler of Prussia Cove; +that once, when Carter was absent on an expedition, the Excise +officers had plucked up heart, ransacked the Cove, carried off a +cargo of illicit goods and locked it up in the Custom House; that +John Carter on his return, furious at the news of his loss, had +marched over to Penzance under cover of darkness, broken in the +Custom House and carried off his goods again; and that Mr. +Pennefather next morning, examining the rifled stores, had declared +the nocturnal visitor to be John Carter beyond a doubt, because +Carter was an honest man and wouldn't take anything that didn't +belong to him. The Riding Officer thought this a highly amusing +story, and would often twit Mr. Pennefather with it. But Mr. +Pennefather could never see the joke, and would plead,—</p> + +<p>"Well, but he <i>was</i> an honest man, wasn't he?"</p> + +<p>"That's the way with you Cornish," repeated Mr. Smellie; "and after a +time one learns to feel it in the air, so to speak."</p> + +<p>The little Collector looked up from his ledger, pushing his +spectacles high on his brow, and glanced vaguely around the office.</p> + +<p>"Now, for my part, I detect nothing unusual," said he.</p> + +<p>"Furthermore," the Riding Officer went on, still tapping his boot, +"I met a suspicious-looking fellow yesterday on the Falmouth Road; a +deucedly suspicious-looking fellow; a fellow that answered me with a +strong French accent when I spoke to him, as I made it my business to +do. He had Guernsey merchant written all over him."</p> + +<p>"Tattooed?" asked Mr. Pennefather, without looking up from the ledger +in which he had buried himself anew. "I had no idea they went to +such lengths… in Guernsey… and fourteen is twenty-seven, +and five is thirty-two, and thirty-two is two-and-eight.… I beg +your pardon? You identified him, then?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Smellie frowned. "I shall send up a private note to the +Barracks; and meanwhile, I advise you to keep an eye lifting."</p> + +<p>"And ten is three-and-six.… An eye lifting, certainly," assented +Mr. Pennefather, without, however, immediately acting on this advice.</p> + +<p>"There's that fellow Hymen, now, next door. He's not altogether the +ass he looks, or my name's not Smellie."</p> + +<p>"But it is, surely?" Mr. Pennefather looked up in innocent surprise. +"And you really think it justifies calling in the Dragoons?"</p> + +<p>"On the face of it, no; I've no evidence. And yet, I repeat, there's +some mischief afoot. This new game of Hymen's, for instance—Before +coming down to these parts"—Mr. Smellie threw a fine condescension +into this phrase—"I should have thought it impossible that anyone in +the shape of a man, let alone of a Major of Artillery, could solemnly +propose to test a neighbouring corps by a night attack, and then as +solemnly give warning on what night he meant to deliver it."</p> + +<p>Mr. Pennefather took off his spectacles and polished them with his +silk handkerchief. "But without that precaution he would find nobody +to attack."</p> + +<p>"I tell you, it's absurd! And yet," the Riding Officer went on +irritably, "if one could count on its being absurd, I wouldn't mind. +But there's just a chance that, with all this foolery, Hymen and Pond +are covering up a little game. Why have they chosen Talland Cove, +now?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose because, for a night attack on Looe, there's no better +spot."</p> + +<p>"Nor for running a cargo. I tell you, I shall keep the Dragoons on +the alert."</p> + +<p>"You don't suggest that you suspect—"</p> + +<p>"Suspect? I suspect everybody. It's the rule of the service; and by +following it I've reached the position I hold to-day."</p> + +<p>"True." The Collector readjusted his spectacles and returned to his +figures. There may have been just a hint of condolence in his +accent, for the Riding Officer looked up sharply.</p> + +<p>"If you lived in the north, Pennefather, do you know what we should +say about you? We should say that you were no very gleg in the +uptake."</p> + +<p>"I once," answered the Collector, gently, without lifting his head +from the ledger, "began to read Burns, but had to give him up on +account of the dialect."</p> + +<br><p> +Meanwhile, all unaware of these dark suspicions, the Major and his +Gallants were perfecting their preparations for the great surprise.</p> + +<p>And what preparations! In the heat of them we had almost forgotten +the Millennium itself!</p> + +<p>For weeks the band had been practising a selection of tunes +appropriate (1) to invasions in general and (2) to this particular +invasion. There was "Britons, Strike Home!" for instance, and +"The Padstow Hobby-horse," and "The Rout it is out for the Blues," +slightly amended for the occasion:</p> + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class = "noindent"> "As I was a-walking on Downderry sands,<br> +<span class = "ind2">Some dainty fine sport for to view,</span><br> +The maidens were wailing and wringing their hands—<br> +<span class = "ind2"> Oh, the Rout it is out for the Looes,</span><br> +<span class = "ind5"> For the Looes,</span><br> +<span class = "Ind2"> Oh, the Rout it is out for the Looes."</span></p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + +<p>The very urchins whistled and sang it about the streets. On the +other hand, the Major's chivalrous proposal to hymn <i>The George of +Looe</i> came to nothing, since Captain Pond could supply him with +neither the words nor the air.</p> + +<p>"Notwithstanding all my researches," he wrote, "the utmost I can +discover is the following stanza which Gunner Israel Spettigew— +vulgarly termed Uncle Issy—one of my halest veterans, remembers to +have heard sung in his youth:</p> + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class = "noindent"> "'Oh, the <i>George of Looe</i> sank Number One;<br> +<span class = "ind2">She then sank Number Two;</span><br> + She finished up with Number Three:<br> +<span class = "ind2"> And hooray for the <i>George of Looe</i>'!"</span></p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + +<p>"Dammy!" said the Major, "and I dare say that passes for invention +over at Looe."</p> + +<p>We in Troy were no paupers of invention, at any rate. Take, for +example, the Major's plan of campaign. First of all you must figure +to yourself a <i>terrain</i> shaped like a triangle—almost an equilateral +triangle—with its base resting on the sea. At the western extremity +of this base stands Troy; at the eastern, Looe, with Talland Cove a +little to this side of it. For western side of the triangle we have +the Troy River; and for apex the peaceful village of Lerryn, set in +apple-orchards, where the tidal waters end by a narrow bridge. +For the eastern side we take, not the Looe River (which doesn't +count), but an ancient earthwork, known as the Devil's Hedge, which +stretches across country from Looe up to Lerryn. Who built this +earthwork, or when he did it, or for what purpose, no one can tell; +but the Looe folk will quote you the following distich,—</p> + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class = "noindent"> "One day the Devil, having nothing to do,<br> + Built a great hedge from Lerryn to Looe."</p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + +<p>(Invention again!)</p> + +<p>Of these things, then (as Herodotus puts it), let so much be said. +But thus we get our triangle: the sea coast (base), the Troy River +and the Devil's Hedge (sides), meeting at the village of Lerryn +(apex) among the orchards.</p> + +<p>Now these orchards, you must know, on May mornings when the tide +served, were the favourite rendezvous for the lads and maidens of +Troy, and even for the middle-aged and married; who would company +thither by water, to wash their faces in the dew, and eat cream, +and see the sun rise, and afterwards return chorussing, their boats +draped with green boughs.</p> + +<p>This year the tide, indeed, served for Lerryn: but this year the +maidens of Troy, if they would fare thither to pay their vows, must +fare alone. Their swains would be bent upon a sterner errand.</p> + +<p>So their Commander by secret orders had dictated, and all the town +knew of it; also that the landing was to be effected in Talland Cove, +and that, if success waited on their arms, supper would be provided +at the Sloop Inn, Looe. One hundred and fifty fighting men would go +to the assault, in fourteen row-boats, with muffled oars. This +number included the band. The residue of thirty men, making up the +full strength of the corps, had disappeared from Troy some ten days +before, on an errand which will appear hereafter.</p> + +<p>But the fair were inconsolable. Almost, for some forty-eight hours— +that is to say, after the news leaked out—our Major was the most +unpopular man in Troy with them who had ever been his warmest +supporters. War was war, no doubt; and women must mourn at home +while men imbrued themselves in the gallant strife. But May-day, +too, was May-day; and the tides served; and, further, there was this +talk about a Millennium, and whatever the Millennium might be (and +nobody but the Mayor and the Vicar, unless it were Dr. Hansombody, +seemed to know), it was certainly not an occasion on which women +ought to be left without their natural protectors. Even the +Ambulance Corps was bound for Looe, in eight additional boats. +There would be scarce a row-boat left in the harbour, or the ladies +might have pulled up to Lerryn on their own account.</p> + +<p>The Major suspected these murmurings, yet he kept an unruffled brow: +yes, even though harassed with vexations which these ladies could not +guess—the possible defection of Hansombody, for instance.</p> + +<p>It was not Hansombody's fault: but Sir Felix Felix-Williams, who +owned the estate as well as the village of Lerryn, had reason to +expect an addition to his family. Dr. Hansombody could not guarantee +that he might not be summoned to Pentethy, Sir Felix's mansion, at +any moment.</p> + +<p>Now, for excellent reasons—which, again, will appear—the Major +could not afford to make Sir Felix an enemy at this moment. +Besides, these domestic events were the little apothecary's bread and +butter.</p> + +<p>On the other hand, the absence of a professional man must seriously +discredit the role assigned to the Ambulance Corps in any engagement, +however bloodless.</p> + +<p>"You might," the Major suggested, "nominate half a dozen as deputy or +assistant surgeons. You could easily pick out those who have shown +most intelligence at your lectures."</p> + +<p>"True," agreed the Doctor; "but as yet we have not, in my lectures, +advanced so far as flesh-wounds. They would know what to do, I hope, +if confronted with frost-bite, snake-bite, sunstroke or incipient +croup—from all of which our little expedition will be (under +Providence) immune, and I have as yet confined myself to directing +them, in all cases which apparently differ from these, to run to the +nearest medical man."</p> + +<p>"Well, well!" sighed the Major. "Then, if the worst come to the +worst and you cannot accompany us, we must rely on the good offices +of the enemy. They have no qualified surgeon, I believe: but the +second lieutenant, young Couch of Polperro, is almost out of his +articles and ready to proceed to Guy's. A clever fellow, too, they +tell me."</p> + +<p>"You understand that if I fail you, it will be through no want of +zeal?"</p> + +<p>"My friend"—the Major turned on him with a smile at once magnanimous +and tender—"I believe you ask nothing better than to accompany me."</p> + +<p>"To the death!" said the Doctor, in a low voice and fervently. +Then, after a pause full of emotion, "Your dispositions are all +taken?"</p> + +<p>"All, I believe. Chinn has drawn up a new will for me, which I have +signed, and it lies at this moment in my deed-box. I took the +liberty to appoint you an executor."</p> + +<p>"You would not ask me to survive you!" (O Friendship! O exemplars +of a sterner age! O Rome! O Cato!) "Not to mention," went on the +Doctor, "that I must be by five or six years your senior, and in the +ordinary course of events—"</p> + +<p>Major Hymen dismissed the ordinary course of events with a wave of +the hand.</p> + +<p>"I ask it as a personal favour."</p> + +<p>"It is an honour then, and I accede."</p> + +<p>"For the rest, I am keeping that fellow Smellie on the <i>qui vive</i>. +For three days past he has been promenading the cliffs with his +spy-glass. I would not lightly depreciate any man, but Smellie has +one serious fault—he is ambitious."</p> + +<p>"Such men are to be found in every walk of life."</p> + +<p>"I fear so. Ambition is like to be Smellie's bane. He is jealous of +sharing any credit with the Preventive crews, and is keeping them +without information. On the other hand he delights in ordering about +a military force; which, in a civilian, is preposterous."</p> + +<p>"Quite preposterous."</p> + +<p>"The Dragoons, of course, hate working under his orders: but I shall +be surprised if he resist the temptation to call them in and dress +himself in a little brief authority. Further, I have word from +Polperro that he is getting together a company of the Sea Fencibles. +In short, he is playing into our hands."</p> + +<p>"But the boats?"</p> + +<p>"They are here."</p> + +<p>"Here?" The Doctor's eyes grew round with wonder.</p> + +<p>The Major swept a hand towards the horizon.</p> + +<p>"For two days we have been enjoying a steady southerly breeze. +They are yonder, you may be sure—the three of them: and that is +where Smellie makes a mistake in not employing the cutter."</p> + +<p>"And the long-boats?"</p> + +<p>"The long-boats are lying, as they have lain for three weeks past, in +Runnells' yard, awaiting repairs. Runnells is a dilatory fellow and +has gone no farther than to fill them with water up to the thwarts, +to test their stanchness." Here the Major allowed himself to smile. +"But Runnells, though dilatory, will launch them after dusk, while +the tide suits."</p> + +<p>"The tide makes until five o'clock."</p> + +<p>"Until five-twenty, to be correct. Before seven o'clock they will be +launched."</p> + +<p>"You play a bold game, dear friend. Suppose, now, that Smellie <i>had</i> +kept the cutter cruising off the coast?"</p> + +<p>The Major smiled again, this time with <i>finesse</i>. "The man is +ambitious, I tell you. By employing the cutter he might indeed have +intercepted the cargo. But he flies at higher game." Here the Major +lightly tapped his chest to indicate the quarry. "In generalship, my +dear doctor, to achieve anything like the highest success, you must +fight with two heads—your own and your adversary's. By putting +myself in Smellie's place; by descending (if I may so say) into the +depths of his animal intelligence, by interpreting his hopes, his +ambitions… well, in short, I believe we have weathered the risk. +The Mevagissey fleet puts out to the grounds to-night, to anchor and +drop nets as usual. With them our friends from Guernsey—shall we +say?—will mingle as soon as night is fallen, hang out <i>their</i> +riding-lights, lower <i>their</i> nets, and generally behave in a fashion +indistinguishable from that of other harvesters of the sea, until the +hour when, with lightened hulls and, I trust, in full regimentals +(for they carry their uniforms on board) they join us for the Grand +Assault."</p> + +<p>"But—excuse me—how much does the town know of this programme?"</p> + +<p>The Major shrugged his shoulders. "As little as I could manage. +I have incurred some brief unpopularity, no doubt, among the fairer +portion of our community, who deem that I am denying them their +annual May-day jaunt. But never fear. I will explain all to-night, +before embarkation."</p> + +<p>"They may murmur," answered Dr. Hansombody, "but in their hearts they +trust you."</p> + +<p>The Major's eyes filled with tears.</p> + +<p>"The path of duty is strewn with more than roses at times. I thank +you for that assurance, my friend."</p> + +<p>They grasped hands in silence.</p> + +<p>Troy remembered later—it had reason to remember—through what +halcyon weather April passed, that year, into May. For three days a +gentle breeze had blown from the south; for three more days it +continued, dying down at nightfall and waking again at dawn. +Stolen days they seemed: cloudless, gradual, golden; a theft of +Spring from Harvest-tide. Unnatural weather, many called it: for the +air held the warmth of full summer before the first swallow appeared, +and while as yet the cuckoo, across the harbour, had been heard by +few.</p> + +<p>The after-glow of sunset had lingered, but had faded at length, +taking the new moon with it, leaving a night so pale, so clear, so +visibly domed overhead, that almost the eye might trace its curve and +assign to each separate star its degree of magnitude. Beyond the +harbour's mouth the riding-lights of the Mevagissey fishing fleet ran +like a carcanet of faint jewels, marking the unseen horizon of the +Channel. The full spring tide, soundless or scarcely lapping along +shore, fell back on its ebb, not rapidly as yet, but imperceptibly +gathering speed. Below the Town Quay in the dark shadow lay the +boats—themselves a shadowy crowd, ghostly, with a glimmer of white +paint here and there on gunwales, thwarts, stern-sheets. Their +thole-pins had been wrapped with oakum and their crews sat +whispering, ready, with muffled oars. On the Quay, lantern in hand, +the Major moved up and down between his silent ranks, watched by a +shadowy crowd.</p> + +<p>In that crowd, as I am credibly informed, were gathered—but none +could distinguish them—gentle and simple, maiden ladies with their +servants or housekeepers, side by side with longshoremen, hovellers, +giglet maids, and urchins; all alike magnetised and drawn thither by +the Man and the Hour. But the Major recognised none of them. +His dispositions had been made and perfected a full week before; how +thoroughly they had been perfected might be read in the mute alacrity +with which man after man, squad after squad, without spoken command +yet in unbroken order, dissolved out of the ranks and passed down to +the boats. You could not see that Gunner Tippet, being an +asthmatical man, wore a comforter and a respirating shield; nor that +Sergeant Sullivan, as notoriously susceptible to the night air, +carried a case-bottle and a small basket of boiled sausages. Yet +these and a hundred other separate and characteristic necessities had +been foreseen and provided for.</p> + +<p>Van, mainguard, rearguard, band, ambulance, forlorn hope, all were +embarked at length. Lieutenant Chinn saluted, reported the entire +flotilla ready, saluted again, and descended the steps with the +Doctor (Sir Felix had sent no word, after all). Only the Major +remained on the Quay's edge. Overhead rode the stars; around him in +the penumbra of the lantern's rays the crowd pressed forward timidly. +He turned.</p> + +<p>"Fellow-citizens," he said, and his voice trembled on the words, but +in an instant was steady again, "you surmise, no doubt, the purpose +of this expedition. An invader menaces these shores, the defence of +which has been committed to us. Of the ultimate invincibility of +that defence I have no doubt whatever; nevertheless, it may expose +here and there a vulnerable point. It is to test the alertness of +our neighbours of Looe that we abstract ourselves for a few hours +from the comforts of home, the society of the fair, in some instances +the embraces of our loved ones, and embark upon an element which, +to-night propitious, might in other moods have engulfed, if it did +not actually force us to postpone, our temerity—" (Here a voice +said, "Well done, Major; give 'em Troy!")</p> + +<p>"Methinks," continued the Major, elevating his lantern and turning to +that part of the crowd whence the interruption had proceeded, +"methinks I hear some fair one sigh, 'But why to-night? Why on the +eve of May-day, when we are wont to seek one or other of those rural +spots, vales, hamlets, remote among our river's lovelier reaches, +where annually the tides have mirrored at sunrise our gala companies +and the green woods responded to our innocent mirth? Why on this +consecrated eve distract our hitherto faithful swains and lead their +steps divergent at an angle of something like thirty degrees?' +I have reason to believe that some such tender complaints have made +themselves audible, and it is painful to me to suffer the imputation +of lack of feeling, even from an Aeolian harp. Yet I have suffered +it, awaiting the moment to reassure you.</p> + +<p>"Yes, ladies, be reassured! We depart indeed for Looe; but we hope, +ere dawn, to meet you at Lerryn and be rewarded with your approving +smiles. At nine-thirty precisely the three long-boats, <i>Naiad</i>, +<i>Nautilus</i>, and <i>Corona</i>, which have lain for some weeks under repair +in Mr. Runnells' yard, will pass this Quay and proceed seaward, each +manned by an able, if veteran, crew. After a brief trip outside the +harbour—to test their stanchness—they will return to the Quay to +embark passengers, and start at 2 a.m. on the excursion up the river +to our rendezvous at Lerryn. Nay!" the Major turned at the head of +the steps and lifted a hand—"I will accept of you no thanks but +this, that during the few arduous hours ahead of us we carry your +wishes, ladies, as a prosperous breeze behind our banners!"</p> + +<p>"Now isn't he a perfect duck?" demanded Miss Sally Tregentil, turning +in the darkness and addressing Miss Pescod, whose strongly marked and +aquiline features she had recognised in the last far-flung ray of the +Major's lantern.</p> + +<p>"My good Sarah! <i>You</i> here?" answered Miss Pescod, divided between +surprise, disapproval and embarrassment.</p> + +<p>"At such a period—a crisis, one might almost say—when the fate of +Europe… and after all, if it comes to that, so are you."</p> + +<p>"For my part—" began Miss Pescod, and ended with a sigh.</p> + +<p>"For my part," declared Miss Sally, hardily, "I shall go to Lerryn."</p> + +<p>"Sally!"</p> + +<p>"It used to be great fun. In later years mamma disapproved, but +there is (may I confess it?) this to be said for war, that beneath +its awful frown—under cover of what I may venture to call the +shaking of its gory locks—you can do a heap of things you wouldn't +dream of under ordinary circumstances. Life, though more precarious, +becomes distinctly less artificial. Two years ago, for instance, +lulled in a false security by the so-called Peace of Amiens, I should +as soon have thought of flying through the air."</p> + +<p>"Has it occurred to you," Miss Pescod suggested, "what might happen +if the Corsican, taking advantage to-night of our dear Major's +temporary absence—"</p> + +<p>"Don't!" Miss Sally interrupted with a shiver. "Oh, decidedly I +shall go to Lerryn to-night! On second thoughts it would be only +proper."</p> + +<p>On the dark waters below them, beyond the Quay, a hoarse military +voice gave the command to "Give way!" One by one on the +fast-dropping tide the boats, keeping good order, headed for the +harbour's mouth. The Major led. <i>O navis, referent</i>…</p> + +<p>Think, I pray you, of Wolfe dropping down the dark St. Lawrence; of +Wolfe and, ahead of him, the Heights of Abraham!</p> + + +<br> +<br> +<p><a name="8"></a> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER VII.</h3> +<br> + + +<h4>THE BATTLE OF TALLAND COVE.</h4> + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class = "noindent"> "Now entertain conjecture of a time<br> + When creeping murmur and the poring dark<br> + Fills the wide vessel of the universe.…"</p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + +<p>The <i>avant-garde</i> of the Looe Diehards occupied, and had been +occupying for two dark hours—in a sitting posture—the ridge of rock +which, on its eastern side, sheltered Talland Cove. One may say, +considering the heavy dew and the nature of the ridge—of slate +formation and sharply serrated—they had clung to it obstinately. +Above them the clear and constellated dome of night turned almost +perceptibly around its pole. At their feet the tide lapped the +beach, phosphorescent, at the last draught of ebb.</p> + +<p>Somewhere in the darkness at the head of the beach—either by the +footbridge where the stream ran down, or in the meadow behind it—lay +the main body. A few outposts had been flung wide to the westward, +and Captain Pond for the second time had walked off to test their +alertness and give and receive the password—"<i>Death to the +Invader</i>."</p> + +<p>"And a more cold-running act of defiance I don't remember to have +heard—no, not in all my years of service," said Gunner Israel +Spettigew, a cheerful sexagenarian, commonly known as Uncle Issy, +discussing it with his comrades on the ridge. "There's a terrible +downrightness about that word 'death.' Speaking for myself, and +except in the way of business, I wouldn' fling it at a cat."</p> + +<p>"'Tis what we must all come to," said Gunner Oke, a young married +man, gloomily shifting his seat.</p> + +<p>"True, lad, true. Then why cast it up against any man in particular, +be he French or English? Folks in glass houses, simmin' to me, +shouldn' throw stones."</p> + +<p>"I reckon you fellows might find something more cheerful to talk +about." Gunner Oke shifted his seat again, and threw a nervous +glance seaward.</p> + +<p>"William Oke, William Oke, you'll never make a sojer! Now I mind +back in 'seventy-nine when the fleets of France an' Spain assembled +and come together agen us—sixty-six sail of the line, my billies, +besides frigates an' corvettes an' such-like small trade; an' the +folks at Plymouth blowing off their alarm-guns, an' the signals +flying from Maker Tower—a bloody flag at the masthead an' two blue +uns at the outriggers. Four days they laid to, in sight of the +assembled multitude of Looe, an' Squire Buller rode down to form us +up to oppose 'em. 'Hallo!' says the Squire, catching sight of me. +'Where's your gun? Don't begin for to tell me that a han'some, +well-set-up, intelligent chap like Israel Spettigew is for hangin' +back at his country's call!' 'Squire,' says I, 'you've a-pictered me +to a hair. But there's one thing you've left out. I've been turnin' +it over, an' I don't see that I'm fit to die.' 'Why not?' says he. +'I'm not a saved man like them other chaps,' says I. 'I've had a few +convictions of sin, but that's as far as it's gone.' 'Tut,' says he, +'have you ever broken the Commandments?' 'What's that?' I asks. +'Why, the things up at the end of the church, inside the rails.' +'I never married my gran'mother, if that's what you mean,' I says. +'That's the Affini-ety Table,' says he, 'but have 'ee ever made to +yourself a graven image?' 'Lord, no,' I says, 'I leaves that +nigglin' work to the I-talians.' 'Have 'ee honoured your father an' +your mother?' 'They took damgood care about that,' says I. +'Well, then, have 'ee ever coveted your neighbour's wife?' 'No,' I +says, 'I never could abide the woman.' 'Come, come,' says he, 'did +'ee ever commit murder upon a man?' 'That's a leadin' question from +a magistrate,' I says; 'but I don't mind ownin', as man to man, that +I never did.' 'Then,' says he, 'the sooner you pitch-to and larn the +better.'"</p> + +<p>"The bloodthirsty old termigant!"</p> + +<p>"'Twas the way of us all in the year 'seventy-nine," the old man +admitted modestly. "A few throats up or down—Lord bless 'ee!—we +talked of it as calm as William Oke might talk of killin' a pig! +And, after all, what's our trade here to-night but battery and +murder?"</p> + +<p>"But 'tisn' the French we'm expectin'," urged Oke, whose mind moved +slowly.</p> + +<p>"'Tis the same argyment with these billies from Troy. Troy an' Looe. +What's between the two in an ordinary way? A few miles; which to a +thoughtful mind is but mud and stones, with two-three churches and a +turnpike to keep us in mind of Adam's fall. Why, my own brother +married a maid from there!"</p> + +<p>"'Tis the Almighty's doin'," said Sergeant Pengelly; "He's +hand-in-glove with King George, and, while that lasts, us poor +subject fellows have got to hate Bonyparty with all our heart and +with all our mind and with all our soul and with all our strength, +for richer for poorer, till death us do part, and not to be afraid +with any amazement. To my mind, that's half the fun of being a +sojer; the pay's small and the life's hard, and you keep ungodly +hours; but 'tis a consolation to sit out here 'pon a rock and know +you'm a man of blood and breaking every mother's son of the Ten +Commandments wi' the Lord's leave."</p> + +<p>"What's <i>that</i>!" Gunner Oke gripped the Sergeant's arm of a sudden +and leaned forward, straining his ears.</p> + +<p>Someone was crossing the track towards them with wary footsteps, +picking his way upon the light shingle by the water's edge. +Presently a voice, hoarse and low, spoke up to them out of the +darkness.</p> + +<p>"Hist, there! Silence in the ranks!" The speaker was Captain Pond +himself. "A man can hear that old fool Spettigew's cackle half-way +across the Cove. They're coming, I tell you!"</p> + +<p>"Where, Cap'n? Where?"</p> + +<p>"Bare half-a-mile t'other side of Downend Point. Is the first rocket +ready?"</p> + +<p>"Ay, ay, Cap'n."</p> + +<p>"And the flint and steel?"</p> + +<p>"Here, between my knees: and Oke beside me, ready with the fuse. +Got the fuse, Oke?"</p> + +<p>"If—if you p-please, sir—"</p> + +<p>"What's wrong?"</p> + +<p>"If you p-please, sir, I've chewed up the fuse by mistake!"</p> + +<p>"<i>What</i>'s he saying?"</p> + +<p>"I got it m-mixed up, sir, here in the d-dead darkness with my quid +o' baccy—and I th-think I'm goin' to be sick."</p> + +<p>"'Tis the very right hand o' Providence, then, that I brought a spare +one," spoke up Pengelly. "Here, Un' Issy—<i>you</i> take hold—"</p> + +<p>"Everything must follow in order, mind," Captain Pond commanded. +"As soon as the first boat takes ground, you challenge: then count +five, and up goes the rocket. Eh?" The Captain swung round at the +sound of another footstep on the shingle. "Is that you, Clogg? +Man, but you made me jump!"</p> + +<p>"Captain Pond! Oh, Captain Pond!" stammered the new-comer, who was +indeed no other than Mr. Clogg, senior lieutenant of the Diehards.</p> + +<p>"Why have you left your post, sir? Don't stand there clinky-clanking +your sword on the pebbles—catch it up under your arm, sir: you're +making noise enough to scare the dead! Now, then, what have you to +report? Nothing wrong with the main body, I hope?"</p> + +<p>"A man might call it ghosts"—Mr. Clogg in the darkness passed a +sleeve across his clammy brow—"A man might call it ghosts, Captain +Pond, and another might set it down to drink. But you know my +habits."</p> + +<p>"Be quick, man! You've seen something? What is it?"</p> + +<p>"Ah, what indeed? You may well ask it, sir: though not if you was to +put the Book into my hands at this moment and ask me to kiss it—"</p> + +<p>"Clogg," interrupted the Captain, stepping close and gripping him by +the upper arm, "will you swear to me you have not been drinking?"</p> + +<p>"Yes and no, Captain. That is, it began with my stepping up the +valley to the farm for a dollop of hot water—I'd a thimbleful of +schnapps in my flask here—and the night turning chilly, and me +remembering that Mrs. Nankivel up to the farm was keeping the kettle +on the boil, because she promised as much only last night, knowing my +stomach to be susceptible. Well, sir, not meaning to be away more'n +a moment—as I was going up the meadow, but keeping along the +withy-bed, you understand?—and if I hadn't taken that road, more by +instinct than anything else—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, for Heaven's sake, if you've anything important to say, say it! +In another five minutes the boats will be here!"</p> + +<p>"I don't know what you'd call 'important,'" answered the Lieutenant, +in an aggrieved tone. "As I was telling, I got to where the +withy-bed ends at the foot of the orchard below the house. +The orchard, as you know, runs down on one side of the stream, and +'tother side there's the grass meadow they call Little Parc. Just at +that moment, if you'll believe me, I heard a man sneeze, and 'pon top +of that a noise like a horse's bit shaken—a sort of jingly sound, +not ten paces off, t'other side of the withies. 'Tis a curious habit +of mine—and you may or may not have noticed it—but I never can hear +another person sneeze without wanting to sneeze too. Hows'ever, +there's a way of stopping it by putting your thumb on your top lip +and pressing hard, and that's what I did, and managed to make very +little noise; so that it surprised me when somebody said, 'Be quiet, +you fool there!' But he must have meant it for the other man. +Well, ducking down behind the withies and peeking athurt the +darkness, by degrees I made out a picter that raised the very hairs +on the back of my neck. Yonder, on the turf under the knap of Little +Parc, what do I see but a troop of horsemen drawn up, all ghostly to +behold! And yet not ghostly neither; for now and then, plain to +these fleshly ears, one o' the horses would paw the ground or another +jingle his curb-chain on the bit. I tell you, Captain, I crope away +from that sight a good fifty yards 'pon my belly before making a +break for the Cove; and when I got back close to the mainguard I +ducked my head and skirted round to the track here in search of you: +for I wouldn' be one to raise false alarms, not I! But, if you ask +my private opinion, 'tis either Old Boney hisself or the Devil, and +we'm lost to a man."</p> + +<p>"Good Lord!" muttered Captain Pond, half to himself. "Horsemen, you +say?"</p> + +<p>"Horsemen, Captain—great horsemen as tall as statues. But statues, +as I told myself, at this time o' night! 'Tis out of the question, +an' we may put it aside once for all."</p> + +<p>"Horsemen?" repeated Captain Pond. "There's only one explanation, +and Hymen must be warned. But I <i>do</i> think he might have trusted +me!"</p> + +<p>He turned for a swift glance seaward, and at the same instant one or +two voices on the ridge above called alarm. Under the western cliff +his eye detected a line of dark shadows stealing towards the shore.</p> + +<p> "<i>Until gaining the entrance of the Cove</i>"—so ran the Major's + order—"<i>the boats will preserve single file. At Downend Point + the leading boat will halt and lie on her oars, dose inshore, + while each successor pivots and spreads in echelon to starboard, + keeping, as nearly as may be, two fathoms' distance from her + consort to port; all gradually, as the shore is approached, + rounding up for a simultaneous attack in line. The crews, on + leaping ashore, will spread and find touch with one another in + two lines, to sweep the beach. A bugle-call will announce the + arrival of each boat</i>."</p> + +<p> +The Major, erect in the bows of the leading boat, glanced over his +right shoulder and beheld his line of followers, all in perfect +order, extend themselves and close the mouth of the Cove. Ahead of +him—ahead but a few yards only—he heard the slack tide run faintly +on the shingle. From the dark beach came no sound. Overhead +quivered the expectant stars. He lifted his sword-arm, and from +point to hilt ran a swift steely glitter.</p> + +<p>"Give way, lads! And Saint Fimbar for Troy!"</p> + +<p>A stroke of the oars, defiant now, muffled no longer! Two—three +strokes, and with a jolt the boat's nose took the beach. The shock +flung the Major forward over the bows; and on all fours, with a +splash—like Julius Caesar—he saluted the soil he came to conquer. +But in an instant he stood erect again, waving his blade.</p> + +<p>"Forward! Forward, Troy!"</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon, Hymen," interrupted Captain Pond, quietly but +seriously, stepping forth from the darkness. "Yes, yes; that's +understood—but see here now—"</p> + +<p>"Back, or you are my prisoner!" The Major had scrambled to his feet, +and stood waving his sword.</p> + +<p>"Hymen!" Captain Pond ran past the Major's guard and caught him by +the elbow.</p> + +<p>"Hands off, I say! Forward, Troy!" The Major struggled to disengage +his sword-arm.</p> + +<p>"Hymen, don't be a fool! As a friend now—though you <i>might</i> have +taken me into your confidence—"</p> + +<p>"Unhand me, Pond! Though you are doing your best to spoil the whole +business—"</p> + +<p>"Listen to me, I say. The Dragoons—"</p> + +<p>But Captain Pond shouted in vain. Bugle after bugle drowned his +voice, rending the darkness. From the rocks to the eastward voices +answered them, challenging wildly.</p> + +<p>"Death to the invader!"</p> + +<p>With a <i>whoo-sh</i> a rocket leapt into the air and burst, flooding the +beach with light, showing up every furze bush, every stone wall, +every sheep-track, on the surrounding cliffs. As if they had caught +fire from it, a score of torches broke into flame on the eastward +rocks, and in the sudden blaze, under the detonating fire of +musketry, the men of Troy could be seen tumbling out of their boats +and splashing ankle-deep to the shore.</p> + +<p>It was a splendid, a gallant sight. Each man, as he reached <i>terra +firma</i>, dropped on one knee, fired deliberately, reloaded, and +advanced a dozen paces. Still from the boats behind fresh +reinforcements splashed ashore and crowded into the firing-line: +while from the eastward rock the vanguard of the Diehards kept up its +deadly flanking fire, heedless of the torches that exposed them each +and all at plain target-shot to the oncoming host.</p> + +<p>Still, amid the pealing notes of the bugles, the Major waved his men +forward. Captain Pond, breaking loose from him and facing swiftly +towards the Cove-head, with a flourish of his blade called upon his +mainguard.</p> + +<p>Under the volley that thereupon swept the beach, the invaders did +indeed waver for a moment—so closely it resembled the real thing. +As the smoke lifted, however, by the murky glare of the torches they +were seen to be less demoralised than infuriated. And now, upon the +volley's echo, a drum banged thrice, and from a boat just beyond the +water's edge the Troy bandsmen crashed out with:</p> + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class = "noindent"> "The Rout it is out for the Looes,<br> +<span class = "ind2"> For the Looes;</span><br> + Oh, the Rout it is out for the Looes!"</p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + +<p>"Forward! Forward, Troy!"</p> + +<p>"Steady, the Two Looes! Steady, the Diehards!"</p> + +<p>"Form up—form up, there, to the left! Hurray, boys! give 'em the +bagginet!"</p> + +<p>"Death to Invader! Reload, men! Oh, for your lives, reload! Make +ready, all! Prepare! Fire!"</p> + +<br><p> +"Mr. Spettigew! Mr. Spettigew!"</p> + +<p>"Eh?" Uncle Issy turned as William Oke plucked him by the sleeve. +"What's the matter now? Reload, I tell'ee!"</p> + +<p>"I—I can't, Mr. Spettigew. I've a-fired off my ramrod!"</p> + +<p>"Then you'm a lost man."</p> + +<p>"Will it—will it have killed any person, d'ee think?" Oke's teeth +rattled like a box of dice as he peered out over the dark and +agitated crowd of boats.</p> + +<p>"Shouldn' wonder at all."</p> + +<p>"I didn' mean to kill any person, Mr. Spettigew!"</p> + +<p>"'Tis the sort of accident, Oke, that might happen to anyone in war. +At the worst they'll recommend 'ee to mercy. The mistake was your +tellin' me."</p> + +<p>"You won't inform upon me, Mr. Spettigew? Don't say you'll inform +upon me!"</p> + +<p>"No, I won't; not if I can help it. But dang it! first of all you +swaller the fuse, and next you fire off your ramrod."</p> + +<p>"E-everything must have a beginning, Mr. Spettigew."</p> + +<p>Uncle Issy shook his head. "I doubt you'll never make a sojer, +William Oke. You'm too frolicsome wi' the materials. Listen, +there's Pengelly shoutin' for another volley! Right you be, +sergeant! Make ready—prepare—Eh? Hallo!"</p> + +<br><p> +Why was it that suddenly, at the height of the hubbub, a panic fell +upon the bandsmen of Troy? Why did the "Rout for the Looes" cease +midway in a bar? What was it that hushed on an instant the shouts, +the rallying cries upon the beach, the bugle-calls and challenges, +the furious uproar of musketry?</p> + +<p>Why, within twenty yards of the Cove-head, in the act of charging +upon the serried ranks of Looe's main guard, did Major Hymen face +about and with sword still uplifted stare behind him, and continue to +stare as one petrified?</p> + +<p>What meant that strange light, out yonder by the Cove's mouth, in the +rear of his boats?</p> + +<p>The light grew and spread until it illuminated every pebble on the +beach. The men of Troy, dazzled by the glare of it, blinked in the +faces of the men of Looe.</p> + +<p>THE FRENCH!</p> + +<p>"A trap! A trap!" yelled someone far to the right, and the cry was +echoed on the instant by a sound in the rear of the Diehards—a sound +yet more terrible—the pounding of hoofs upon hard turf.</p> + +<p>Again Captain Pond rushed forward and caught the Major by the elbow.</p> + +<p>"The Dragoons!" he whispered. "Run for your life, man!"</p> + +<p>But already the ranks of the Diehards had begun to waver; and now, as +the oncoming hoofs thundered louder, close upon their rear, they +broke. Trojans and men of Looe turned tail and were swept in one +commingled crowd down the beach.</p> + +<p>"To the water, there! Down to the water, every man of you!"</p> + +<p>A voice loud as a bull's roared out the command from the darkness. +The Major, still waving his sword, was lifted by the crowd's pressure +and swept along like a chip in a tideway. His feet fought for solid +earth. Glancing back as he struggled, he saw, high above his +shoulder, lit up by the flares from seaward, a line of flashing +swords, helmets, cuirasses.</p> + +<p>"To the boats!" yelled the crowd.</p> + +<p>"To the water! Drive 'em to the water!" answered the stentorian +voice, now recognisable as Mr. Smellie's.</p> + +<p>The Dragoons, using the flat of their sabres, drove the fugitives +down to the tide's edge, nor drew rein until their chargers stood +fetlock-deep in water, still pressing the huddled throng around the +boats.</p> + +<p>"Bring a lantern, there!" shouted the Riding Officer. "And call +Hymen! Where is Hymen!"</p> + +<p>"I am here!"</p> + +<p>The Major had picked himself up out of two feet of water, into which +he had been flung on all fours. He was dripping wet, but he still +clutched his naked blade, and advancing into the light of the +lantern's rays, brought it up to salute with a fine cold dignity.</p> + +<p>"I am here," he repeated quietly.</p> + +<p>"Well, then, I'm sorry for you, Hymen; but the game's up," said Mr. +Smellie.</p> + +<p>The Major glanced at him, for a moment only.</p> + +<p>"Will someone inform me who commands this troop?" he asked, looking +first to right, then to left, along the line of the Dragoons.</p> + +<p>"At your service, sir," answered a young officer, pressing his horse +forward alongside Mr. Smellie's.</p> + +<p>The Major reached out a hand for the lantern. Someone passed it to +him obediently; and holding it he scanned the officer up and down +amid the dead silence of the crowd.</p> + +<p>"Your name, sir?"</p> + +<p>"Arbuthnot, sir—Captain Arbuthnot, of the 5th Dragoons."</p> + +<p>"Then allow me to ask, Captain Arbuthnot, by what right have you and +your troopers assaulted my men?"</p> + +<p>"Excuse me," the Captain answered. "I am acting on trustworthy +information. The Riding Officer here, Mr. Smellie—"</p> + +<p>But here Mr. Smellie himself interposed brusquely.</p> + +<p>"You can stow this bluster, Hymen. I've cornered you, and you know +it. The flares in the offing yonder came from two preventive boats. +Back-door and front I have you, as neat as a rat in a drain; so you +may just turn that lantern of yours on the cargo, own up, and sing +small."</p> + +<p>"To resume our conversation, Captain Arbuthnot," the Major went on. +"Upon what information are you and your men taking a part, uninvited, +in this evening's—er—proceedings? You must understand, sir, that I +put this question as a magistrate."</p> + +<p>"To be frank, sir, I am warned that under cover of a feigned attack +between your two corps an illicit cargo was to be run here to-night. +The Riding Officer's information is precise, and he tells me he is +acquainted with the three boats in which the goods have been brought +over."</p> + +<p>"And more by token, there they are!" exclaimed Mr. Smellie, pointing +to three small lugger-rigged craft that lay moored some six or eight +fathoms outside the long-boats, with mainmasts unstepped, sails left +to lie loose about deck with an artful show of carelessness, and +hulls suspiciously deep in the water. He dismounted, caught up a +lantern, and scanned them, chuckling in his glee. "See here, +Captain, the rogues had their gang-planks out and ready. Now, wait +till I've whistled in the preventive crews, and inside of ten minutes +you shall see what game these pretty innocents were playing."</p> + +<p>He blew his whistle, and a whistle answered from the offing, where +the flares continued to blaze.</p> + +<p>"Excuse me again," said the Major, ignoring the interruption and +still addressing himself to Captain Arbuthnot, "but this is a very +serious accusation, sir. If, as you surmise—or rather as your +informant surmises—these boats should prove to be laden with +contraband goods, the men undoubtedly deserve punishment; and I am +the less likely to deprecate it since they have compromised me by +their folly. For me, holding as I do the King's commission of the +peace, to be involved, however innocently, however unconsciously—"</p> + +<p>"Ay," struck in Mr. Smellie again, "it's a devilish awkward business +for you, Hymen. But you won't improve it by turning cat-in-the-pan +at the last moment, and so I warn you. Come along, lads!" he called +to the preventive crews. "We have 'em right and tight this trip. +See the three luggers, there, to port of ye?"</p> + +<p>"Ay, ay, sir!"</p> + +<p>"Tumble aboard, then, and fetch us out a sample of their cargo."</p> + +<p>There was a pause. Save for the jingling of the chargers' bits and +now and again the clink of scabbard on boot, silence—dead silence— +held the beach. Aboard the boats the preventive men could be heard +rummaging.</p> + +<p>"Found anything?" called out Mr. Smellie.</p> + +<p>"Ay, ay, sir!"</p> + +<p>"What is it?"</p> + +<p>"Casks!"</p> + +<p>"What did I promise you?" Mr. Smellie turned to Captain Arbuthnot in +triumph. "Luxmore!" he called aloud.</p> + +<p>"Ay, ay, sir!" came the Chief Boatman's voice in answer.</p> + +<p>"There's a plank handy. Roll us a sample or two ashore here, and +fetch along chisel and auger."</p> + +<p>"If you think it necessary, sir—"</p> + +<p>"Do as you're told, man!… Ah, here we are!"—as a couple of +preventive men splashed ashore, trundling a cask along the plank +between them, and up-ended it close by the water's edge.</p> + +<p>Captain Arbuthnot had dismounted and, advancing with his arm through +his charger's bridle, bent over the cask.</p> + +<p>"Devilish queer-smelling brandy!" he observed, drawing back a pace +and sniffing.</p> + +<p>"It has been standing in the bilge. These fellows never clean out +their boats from one year's end to another," said Mr. Smellie, +positively. Yet he, too, eyed the cask with momentary suspicion. +In shape, in colour, it resembled the tubs in which Guernsey +ordinarily exported its <i>eau-de-vie</i>. It was slung, too, ready for +carriage, and with French left-handed rope, and yet.… It seemed +unusually large for a Guernsey tub… and unusually light in +scantling.…</p> + +<p>"Shall I spile en, maister?" asked one of the preventive men, +producing a large auger.</p> + +<p>"No, stave its head in. And fetch a pannikin, somebody. There's +good water at the beach-head; and I dare say your men, Captain, won't +despise a tot of French liquor after their ride."</p> + +<p>The preventive man set his chisel against the inner rim of the cask, +and dealt it a short sharp blow with his hammer, a sort of trial tap, +to guide his aim. "French liquor?" He sniffed. "Furrin fruit, more +like. Phew! Keep back there, and stand by for lavender!"</p> + +<p>Crash!…</p> + +<p>"Pf—f!"</p> + +<p>"Ar-r-r-ugh! Oh, merciful Heaven!" Captain Arbuthnot staggered +back, clapping thumb and forefinger to his nose.</p> + +<p>"PILCHARDS!"</p> + +<p>"SALT PILCHARDS!"</p> + +<p>"ROTTEN PILCHARDS!"</p> + +<p>Mr. Smellie opened his mouth, but collapsed in a fit of retching, as +from right and left, and from the darkness all around him, a roar of +Homeric laughter woke the echoes of the Cove. Men rolled about +laughing. Men leaned against one another to laugh.</p> + +<p>Already the preventive men on board the luggers—having been rash +enough to prise open some half a dozen casks—had dropped overboard +and were wading ashore, coughing and spitting as they came. Amid the +uproar Major Hymen kept a perfectly grave face.</p> + +<p>"You see, sir," he explained to Captain Arbuthnot, "Mr. Smellie is +fond of hunting where there is no fox. So some of my youngsters hit +on the idea of providing him with a drag. They have spent a week at +least in painting these casks to look like the real thing.… I am +sorry, sir, that you and your gallant fellows should have been misled +by an officious civilian; but if I might suggest your marching on to +Looe, where a good supper awaits us, to take this taste out of our +mouths—and good liquor too, not contraband, to drown resentment—"</p> + +<p>The Captain may surely be pardoned if for the moment even this gentle +speech failed to placate him. He turned in dudgeon amid the grinning +crowd and was in the act of remounting, but missed the stirrup as his +charger reared and backed before the noise of yet another diversion. +No one knows who dipped into the cask and flung the first handful +over unhappy Mr. Smellie. No one knows who led the charge down upon +the boats, or gave the cry to stave in the barrels on board. But in +a trice the preventive men were driven overboard and, as they leapt +into the shallow water, were caught and held and drenched in the +noisome mess; while the Riding Officer, plastered ere he could gain +his saddle, ducked his head and galloped up the beach under a +torrential shower of deliquescent pilchards.</p> + +<p>The Dragoons did not interfere.</p> + +<p>"Shall it be for Looe, Captain?" challenged Major Hymen, waving his +blade and calling on the Gallants to re-form. And as he challenged, +by the happiest of inspirations the band, catching up their +instruments, crashed out with:</p> + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class = "noindent"> "Oh, the De'il's awa'—<br> + The De'il's awa'—<br> + The De'il's awa' wi' th' exciseman!"</p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + + +<br> +<br> +<p><a name="9"></a> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER VIII.</h3> +<br> + + +<h4>"COME, MY CORINNA, COME!"</h4> + +<p>Miss Marty drew aside her window curtain to watch the rising moon. +She could not sleep. Knowing that she would not be able to sleep, +she had not undressed.</p> + +<p>She gazed out upon the street, dark now and deserted. No light +signalled to her from the attic window behind which Dr. Hansombody so +often sat late over his books and butterfly cases. He had gone with +the others.</p> + +<p>She listened. The house was silent save for the muffled snoring of +Scipio in his cupboard-bedroom under the stairs. She raised the +window-sash gently, leaned out upon the soft spring night, and +listened again.</p> + +<p>Far down the street, from the purlieus of the Town Quay, her ear +caught a murmur of voices—of voices and happy subdued laughter. +The maidens of Troy were embarking; and to-morrow would be May +morning.</p> + +<p>Miss Marty sighed. How long was it since she had observed May +morning and its rites? The morrow, too, if the Vicar and the Major +were right in their calculations, would usher in the Millennium. +But again, what was the Millennium to her? Could it bring back her +youth?</p> + +<p>She heard the boats draw near and go by. The houses to the left hid +them from her: but she leaned out, hearkening to the soft plash of +oars, the creak of thole-pins, the girls' voices in hushed chorus +practising the simple native harmonies they would lift aloud as they +returned after sunrise. She recognised the tune, too; the old tune +of "The Padstow Hobby-horse,"—</p> + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class = "noindent"> "Unite and unite, and let us all unite,<br> +<span class = "ind2"> For summer is a-come in to-day—</span><br> + And whither we are going we will all go in white<br> +<span class = "ind2"> In the merry merry morning of May.</span><br><br> + + "Rise up, Master—, and joy you betide,<br> +<span class = "ind2"> For summer is a-come in to-day—</span><br> + And blithe is the bride lays her down by your side<br> +<span class = "ind2"> In the merry merry morning of May."</span></p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + +<p>Hushed though the voices were, each word fell distinct on her ear as +the boats drew near and passed up the tideway.</p> + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class = "noindent"> "Rise up, Mistress—, all in your smock of silk,<br> +<span class = "ind2"> For summer is a-come in to-day—</span><br> + And all your body under as white as any milk<br> +<span class = "ind2"> In the merry merry morning of May."</span></p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + +<p>The voices faded away up the river. Only the lilt of the song came +back to her now, but memory supplied the words. Had they not been +sung under her window years ago?</p> + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class = "noindent"> "Rise up, Mistress Marty, all out of your bed,<br> +<span class = "ind2"> For summer is a-come in to-day—</span><br> + Your chamber shall be spread with the white rose and red<br> +<span class = "ind2"> In the merry merry morning of May.</span><br><br> + + "O where be the maidens that here now should sing?<br> +<span class = "ind2"> For summer is a-come in to-day—</span><br> + They be all in the meadows the flowers gathering,<br> +<span class = "ind2"> In the merry merry morning of May."</span></p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + +<p>What magic was there in this artless ditty that kept Miss +Marty lingering awhile with moist eyes ere she closed the +window-sash?</p> + +<p>"Wh'st! Miss Mar-ty!"</p> + +<p>Heavens! Whose voice was that, calling up hoarsely from the shadows? +She peered out, but could see nobody. Suddenly her maiden modesty +took alarm. What possessed her to be standing here exposed, and +exposing the interior of her lighted bed-chamber to view from the +street? She ran back in a flurry and blew out the candles; then, +returning, put up a hand to draw down the window-sash.</p> + +<p>"Wh'st! Miss Mar-ty!"</p> + +<p>"Gracious goodness!" After a moment's hesitation she craned out +timorously. "Cai Tamblyn…?"</p> + +<p>"Miss Marty!"</p> + +<p>"What on earth are you doing there at this time of night?"</p> + +<p>"Sentry-go."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense. What do I want of a sentry?"</p> + +<p>"You never can tell."</p> + +<p>"Are you here by the Major's order?"</p> + +<p>"Ch't!" answered Cai Tamblyn. "<i>Him!</i>"</p> + +<p>"Then go away, please, and let me beg you to speak more respectfully +of your master."</p> + +<p>"I reckon," said Cai, slowly, "you don't know that, barrin' the +nigger under the stairs, this here town's as empty as my hat. +Well, a man can but die once, and if the French come, let 'em; that's +all I say. Good night, miss."</p> + +<p>"The town empty?"</p> + +<p>"Males, females and otherwise, down to Miss Jex at the post-office." +(Cai Tamblyn nursed an inveterate antipathy for the post-mistress. +He alleged no reason for it, save that she wore moustaches, which was +no reason at all, and a monstrous exaggeration.) "There's Miss Pescod +gone, and Miss Tregentil with her maid."</p> + +<p>"But where? Why?"</p> + +<p>"Up the river. Gallivantin'. That's what I spoke ye for, just now. +Mind you, I don't propose no gallivantin'; but there's safety in +numbers, and if you've a mind for it, I've the boat ready by the +Broad Slip."</p> + +<p>"But what foolishness!"</p> + +<p>"Ay," Mr. Tamblyn assented. "That's what I said to the Doctor when +he first mentioned it. 'What foolishness,' I said, 'at <i>her</i> time o' +life!' But then we never reckoned on the whole town goin' crazed."</p> + +<p>"The Doctor?" queried Miss Marty, with a glance down the dark street. +"He thinks of everything," she murmured.</p> + +<p>There was a pause, during which Mr. Tamblyn somewhat ostentatiously +tested the lock of his musket.</p> + +<p>"You are not going to frighten me, Cai."</p> + +<p>"No, miss."</p> + +<p>"I—I think an expedition up the river would be very pleasant. If, +as you say, Miss Pescod has gone—"</p> + +<p>"Yes, miss."</p> + +<p>"I must bring Scipio."</p> + +<p>"Very well, miss. If the French come, they <i>might</i> think o' looking +under the stairs."</p> + +<br><p> +Twenty minutes later Miss Marty—escorted by Scipio, who bore a +lantern—tiptoed down the street to the Broad Slip, fearful even of +her own light footstep on the cobbles.</p> + +<p>The Broad Slip—it has since been filled in—was in those days a sort +of dock, inset between the waterside houses and running up so close +to the street that the vessels it berthed were forced to take in +their bowsprits to allow the pack-horse traffic to pass. On its +south side a flight of granite steps led down to the water: and at +the foot of these (the tide being low) Cai Tamblyn waited with his +boat.</p> + +<p>"I declare my heart's in my mouth," Miss Marty panted, as she took +her seat. Cai directed Scipio to sit amidships, pushed off in +silence, and taking the forward thwart, began to pull.</p> + +<p>"Now there's a thing," he said after a few strokes with a jerk of his +head towards the dark longshore houses, "you don't often see nor hear +about outside o' the Bible; a deserted city. Fine pickings for Boney +if he only knew."</p> + +<p>Miss Marty's thoughts flew back at once to a corner cupboard in the +parlour, inlaid with tulips in Dutch marqueterie, and containing the +Major's priceless eggshell china. To be sure, if the French landed, +she—weak woman that she was—could not defend this treasure. +But might not the Major blame her for having abandoned it?</p> + +<p>"I—I trust," she hazarded, "that our brave fellows have succeeded in +their enterprise. It seemed to me that I heard the sound of distant +firing just now."</p> + +<p>"If they hadn't, miss, they'd ha' been back afore now. I had my own +doubts about 'em, for they're a hair-triggered lot, the Troy +Gallants. No fear of their goin' off; but 'tis a matter o' doubt in +what direction."</p> + +<p>"Your master," said Miss Marty, severely, addressing Cai across +Scipio (who for some reason seldom or never spoke in Cai's company)— +"your master has the heart of a lion. He would die rather than +acknowledge defeat."</p> + +<p>"A heart of a lion, miss, if you'll excuse my saying it, is an +uncomfortable thing in a man's stomach; an' more especially when 'tis +fed up on the wind o' vanity. I've a-read my Bible plumb down to the +forbidden books thereof, and there's a story in it called Bel and the +Dragon, which I mind keeping to the last, thinkin' 'twas the name of +a public-house. 'Tis a terrible warnin' against swollen vittles."</p> + +<p>"You are a dreadful cynic, Cai."</p> + +<p>"Nothin' of the sort, miss," said Cai, stoutly. "I thinks badly o' +most men—that's all."</p> + +<p>His talk was always cross-grained, but its volume betrayed a quite +unwonted geniality to-night. And half a mile farther, where the dark +river bent around Wiseman's Stone, he so far relaxed as to rest on +his oars and challenge the famous echo from the wooded cliffs. +Somewhat to Miss Marty's astonishment it responded.</p> + +<p>"And by night, too! I had no idea!"</p> + +<p>"Night?" repeated Mr. Tamblyn, after rowing on for another fifty +strokes. He paused as if he had that moment heard, and glanced +upward. "'Tis much as ever. The sky's palin' already, and we'll not +reach Lerryn by sunrise. I think, miss, if you'll step ashore, this +here's as good a place as any. Scipio and me'll keep the boat and +turn our backs."</p> + +<p>Miss Marty understood. The boat's nose having been brought alongside +a ridge of rock, she landed in silence, climbed the foreshore, up by +a hazel-choked path to a meadow above, and there, solemnly thrusting +her hands into the lush grass, turned to the east and bathed her face +in the dew. It is a rite which must be performed alone, in silence; +and the morning sun must not surprise it.</p> + +<p>"You've been terrible quick," remarked Cai, as she stepped down to +the foreshore again in the ghostly light. "You can't have stayed to +dabble your feet. Didn't think it wise, I s'pose? And I dare say +you're right."</p> + +<p>From far ahead of them as they started again, the voices of the +singers came borne down the river; and again Miss Marty's memory +supplied the words of the song:</p> + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class = "noindent">"The young men of our town, they might if they wo'ld—<br> +<span class = "ind2"> For summer is a-comin' in to-day—</span><br> + They might have built a ship and have gilded her with gold<br> +<span class = "ind2"> In the merry merry morning of May."</span></p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + +<p>"The young men… the young men… they might if they wo'ld." +Ah, Miss Marty, was it only the edge of the morning that heightened +the rose on your cheek by a little—a very little—as the sky paled? +And now the kingfishers were awake, and the woodlands nigh, and the +tide began to gather force as it neared the narrower winding channel. +To enter this they skirted a mud-flat, where the day, breaking over +the tree-tops and through the river mists, shone on scores upon +scores of birds gathered to await it—curlews, sandpipers, gulls in +rows like strings of jewels, here and there a heron standing sentry. +The assembly paid no heed to the passing boat.</p> + +<p>Miss Marty gazed up at the last star fading in the blue. How clear +the morning was! How freshly scented beneath the shadow of the +woods! Her gaze descended upon the incongruous top-hat and +gold-laced livery of Scipio, touched with the morning sunshine. +She glanced around her and motioned to Cai Tamblyn to bring the boat +to shore by a grassy spit whence (as she knew) a cart-track led +alongshore through the young oak coppices to the village.</p> + +<p>"And Scipio," she said, turning as she stepped out on the turf, "will +like a run in the woods."</p> + +<p>She had walked on, maybe a hundred paces, before the absurdity of it +struck her. She had been thinking of Mr. Pope's line:</p> + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class = "noindent"> "When wild in woods the noble savage ran."</p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + +<p>And at the notion of Scipio, in gilt-laced hat and livery, tearing +wildly through the undergrowth in the joy of liberty, she halted and +laughed aloud.</p> + +<p>She was smiling yet when, at a turning of the leafy lane, she came +upon the prettiest innocent sight. On a cushion of moss beside the +path, two small children—a boy and a girl—lay fast asleep. +The boy's arm was flung around his sister's shoulders, and across his +thighs rested a wand or thin pole topped with a May-garland of wild +hyacinths, red-robin and painted birds' eggs. A tin cup, brought to +collect pence for the garland, glittered in the cart-rut at their +feet. It had rolled down the mossy bank as the girl's fingers +relaxed in sleep.</p> + +<p>They were two little ones of Troy, strayed hither from the +merrymaking; and at first Miss Marty had a mind to wake them, seeing +how near they lay to the river's brink. But noting that a fallen log +safeguarded them from this peril, she fumbled for the pocket beneath +her skirt, dropped a sixpence with as little noise as might be into +the tin cup, and tiptoed upon her way.</p> + +<p>About three hundred yards from the village she met another pair of +children; and, soon after, a score or so in a cluster, who took toll +of her in pence; for almost everyone carried a garland. And then the +trees opened, and she saw before her the village with its cottages, +grey and whitewashed, its gardens and orchards, mirrored in the +brimming tide, all trembling in the morning light and yet exquisitely +still. Far up the river, beyond the village and the bridge, a level +green meadow ran out, narrowing the channel; and here beneath the +apple-trees—for the meadow was half an orchard—had been set out +many lines of white-covered tables, at which the Mayers made +innocently merry.</p> + +<p>Innocently, did I say? Well, I have known up-country folk before +now to be scandalised by some things which we in the Duchy think +innocent enough. So let me admit that the three long-boats conveyed +something more than the youth and beauty of Troy to that morning's +Maying; that when launched from Mr. Runnells' yard they were not +entirely what they seemed: that from their trial spin across the bay +they returned some inches deeper in the water, and yet they did not +leak. Had you perchance been standing by the shore in the half-light +as they came up over the shallows, you might have wondered at the +number of times they took ground, and at the slowness of the tide to +lift and float them. You might have wondered again why, after they +emerged from the deep shadow of Sir Felix Felix-Williams' woods upon +the southern shore, albeit in shallow water, they seemed to feel +their hindrances no longer.</p> + +<p>Have you ever, my reader, caught hold of a lizard and been left with +his tail in your hands?</p> + +<p>Even so easily did these three long-boats shed their false keels, +which half an hour later were but harmless-looking stacks of timber +among Sir Felix's undergrowth. Half an hour later, had your unwary +feet led you to a certain corner of Sir Felix's well-timbered +demesne, you might have scratched your head and wondered what magic +carpet had transported you into the heart of the Cognac District. +And all this was the work of the men of Troy (not being volunteers) +who had come either in the long-boats or in the many boats escorting +these.</p> + +<p>But the women of Troy, being deft with the oar one and all, took the +places of the men left behind in the woods, and, singing yet, brought +both the long-boats and these other boats safely to Lerryn on the +full flood of the tide, and disembarking upon the meadow there, +gathered around the tables under the apple-trees to eat bread and +cream in honour of May-day, looking all the while as if butter would +not melt in their mouths. Between their feasting they laughed a +great deal; but either they laughed demurely, being constrained by +the unwonted presence of Miss Pescod and other ladies of Troy's +acknowledged <i>elite</i>, or Miss Marty as yet stood too far off to hear +their voices.</p> + +<br><p> +Let us return to Scipio, who, on receiving Miss Marty's permission to +wander, had made his way up through the woods in search of the +Devil's Hedge, along which, as he knew, his master would be leading +back the triumphant Gallants.</p> + +<p>Fidelity was ever the first spring of Scipio's conduct. He adored +the Major with a canine devotion, and by an instinct almost canine he +found his way up to the earthwork and chose a position which +commanded the farthest prospect in the direction of Looe. From where +he sat the broad hedge dipped to a narrow valley, climbed the steep +slope opposite, and vanished, to reappear upon a second and farther +ridge two miles away. As yet he could discern no sign of the +returning heroes; but his ear caught the throb of a drum beaten afar +to the eastward.</p> + +<p>Of the Major's two body-servants it might be said that the one spoke +seldom and the other never; and again that Cai, who spoke seldom, +was taciturn, while Scipio, who spoke never, was almost affable. +In truth, the negro's was the habitual silence of one who, loving his +fellows, spends all his unoccupied time in an inward brooding, a +continual haze of day-dreams.</p> + +<p>Scipio's day-dreams were of a piece with his loyalty, a reflection in +some sort of his master's glory. He could never—he with his black +skin—be such a man; but he passionately desired to be honoured, +respected, though but posthumously. And the emblazoned board in the +church, appealing as it did to his negro sense of colour, had +suggested a way. It is not too much to say that a great part of +Scipio's time was lived by him in a future when, released from this +present livery, his spirit should take on a more gorgeous one, as +"Scipio Johnson, Esquire, late of this Parish," in scarlet twiddles +on a buff ground.</p> + +<p>He seated himself on the earthwork, and the better to commune with +this vision, tilted his gold-laced hat forward over his eyes, +shutting out the dazzle of the morning sun. Once or twice he shook +himself, being heavy with broken sleep, and gazed across the ridges, +then drew up his knees, clasped them, and let his heavy, woolly head +drop forward, nodding.</p> + +<br><p> +Let us not pursue those stages of conviviality through which the Looe +Diehards, having been seen home by the Troy Gallants, arrived at an +obligation to return the compliment. Suffice it to say that Major +Hymen and Captain Pond, within five minutes of bidding one another a +public tearful farewell, found themselves climbing the first hill +towards Lerryn with linked arms. But the Devil's Hedge is a wide one +and luckily could not be mistaken, even in the uncertain light of +dawn.</p> + +<p>And, to pass over the minor incidents of that march, I will maintain +in fairness (though the men of Troy choose to laugh) that the sudden +apparition of a black man seated in the morning light upon the +Devil's Hedge was enough to daunt even the tried valour of the Looe +Diehards.</p> + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class = "noindent"> "The De'il's awa', the De'il's awa',<br> + The De'il's awa' wi' th' exciseman."</p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + +<p>The eye notoriously magnifies an object seen upon a high ridge +against the skyline; and when Scipio stood erect in all his gigantic +proportions and waved both arms to welcome his beloved master, the +Diehards turned with a yell and fled. Vainly their comrades of Troy +called after them. Back and down the hill they streamed pell-mell, +one on another's heels; down to the marshy bottom known as Trebant +Water, nor paused to catch breath until they had placed a running +brook between them and the Power of Darkness.</p> + +<p>For the second time that night the Gallants rolled about and clung +one to another in throes of Homeric laughter; laughter which, +reverberating, shout on shout, along the ridge and down among the +tree-tops, reached even to the meadow far below, where in the sudden +hush of the lark's singing the merrymakers paused and looked up to +listen.</p> + +<p>But wait awhile! They laugh best who laugh last.</p> + + +<br> +<br> +<p><a name="10"></a> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER IX.</h3> +<br> + +<h4>BY LERRYN WATER.</h4> + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class = "noindent"> "O will you accept of the mus-e-lin so blue,<br> + To wear in the morning and to dabble in the dew?"<br> +<span class = "ind15"><i>Old Song</i>.</span></p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + +<p>Miss Marty had duly visited the meadow and eaten and paid for her +breakfast of bread and cream. But she had eaten it in some +constraint, sitting alone. She had never asserted her position as +the Major's kinswoman in the eyes of Miss Pescod and the ladies of +Miss Pescod's clan, who were inclined to regard her as a poor +relation, a mere housekeeper, and to treat her as a person of no +great account. On the other hand, the majority of the merrymakers +deemed her, no doubt, a stiff stuck-up thing; whereas she would in +fact have given much to break through her shyness and accost them. +For these reasons, the meal over, she was glad to pay her sixpence +and escape from the throng back to the woodland paths and solitude.</p> + +<p>The children by this time had grown tired of straying, and were +trooping back to the village. Fewer and fewer met her as she +followed the shore; the two slumberers were gone from the mossy bank; +by and by the procession dried up, so to speak, altogether. +She understood the reason when a drum began to bang overhead behind +the woods and passed along the ridge, still banging. The Gallants +were returning; and apparently flushed with victory, since between +the strokes she could hear their distant shouts of laughter.</p> + +<p>At one moment she fancied they must be descending through the woods: +for a crackling of the undergrowth, some way up the slope, startled +and brought her to a halt. But no; the noise passed along the ridge +towards the village. The crackling sound must have come from some +woodland beast disturbed in his night's lair.</p> + +<p>She retraced her way slowly to the spot where she had disembarked; +but when she reached it, Cai and the boat had vanished. No matter; +Cai was a trustworthy fellow, and doubtless would be back ere long. +Likely enough he had pulled across to the farther shore to bear a +hand in what Troy euphemistically called the "salvage" of the +long-boats' cargoes. Happy in her solitude, rejoicing in her +extended liberty, Miss Marty strolled on, now gazing up into the +green dappled shadows, now pausing on the brink to watch the water as +it swirled by her feet, smooth and deep and flawed in its depths with +arrow-lights of sunshine.</p> + +<p>She came by and by to a point where the cart-track turned inland to +climb the woods and a foot-path branched off from it, skirting a +small recess in the shore. A streamlet of clear water, hurrying down +from the upland by the Devil's Hedge, here leapt the low cliff and +fell on a pebbly beach, driving the pebbles before it and by their +attrition wearing out for itself a natural basin. Encountering a low +ridge of rock on the edge of the tideway, the stones heaped +themselves along it and formed a bar, with one tiny outlet through +which the pool trickled continually, except at high spring tides when +the river overflowed it.</p> + +<p>Now Miss Marty, fetching a compass around this miniature creek, came +in due course to the stream and seated herself on a fallen log, to +consider. For the ground on the farther side appeared green and +plashy, and she disliked wetting her shoes.</p> + +<p>Overhead a finch piped. Below her, hidden by a screen of hazel, +chattered the fall. Why should she wend farther? She must be greedy +of solitude indeed if this sylvan corner did not content her.</p> + +<p>And yet.… High on the opposite bank there grew a cluster of +columbine, purple and rosy pink, blown thither and seeded perhaps +from some near garden, though she had heard that the flower grew wild +in these woods. Miss Marty gazed at the flowers, which seem to nod +and beckon; then at the stream; then at the plashy shore; lastly at +her shoes. Her hand went down to her right foot.</p> + +<p>She drew off her shoes. Then she drew off her stockings.</p> + +<p>By this time she was in a nervous flurry. Almost you may say that +she raced across the stream and clutched at a handful of the +columbines. In less than a minute she was back again, gazing +timorously about her.</p> + +<p>No one had seen; nobody, that is to say, except the finch, and he +piped on cavalierly. Miss Marty glanced up at him, then at a +clearing of green turf underneath his bough, a little to her left. +Why not? Why should she omit any of May morning's rites?</p> + +<p>Miss Marty picked up her skirts again, stepped on to the green turf, +and began to dabble her feet in the dew.</p> + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class = "noindent"> "The morn that May began,<br> +<span class = "ind2"> I dabbled in the dew;</span><br> + And I wished for me a proper young man<br> +<span class = "ind2"> In coat-tails of the blue.…"</span></p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + +<p>"<i>Whoop! Whoo-oop!</i>"</p> + +<p>The cry came from afar; indeed, from the woods across the river. +Yet as the hare pricks up her ears at the sound of a distant horn and +darts away to the covert, so did Miss Marty pause, and, after +listening for a second or two, hurry back to the log to resume her +shoes and stockings.</p> + +<p>Her shoes she found where she had left them, and one stocking on the +rank grass close beside them. <i>But where was the other?</i></p> + +<p>She looked to right, to left, and all around her in a panic. +Could she have dropped it into the stream in her hurry? And had the +stream carried it down the fall?</p> + +<p>She drew on one stocking and shoe, and catching up the other shoe in +her hand, crept down to explore. The stream leapt out of sight +through a screen of hazels. Parting these, she peered through them, +to judge the distance between her and the pool and see if any track +led down to it. A something flashed in her eyes, and she drew back. +Then, peering forward again, she let a faint cry escape her.</p> + +<p>On the pebbly bank beside the pool stood a man—Dr. Hansombody—in +regimentals. In one hand he held a razor (this it was that had +flashed so brightly in the sunlight), in the other her lost stocking. +Apparently he had been shaving, kneeling beside the pool and using it +for a mirror; for one half of his face was yet lathered, and his +haversack lay open on the stones by the water's edge beside his shako +and a tin cup under which he had lit a small spirit-lamp; and +doubtless, while he knelt, the stream had swept Miss Marty's stocking +down to him. He was studying it in bewilderment; which changed to +glad surprise as he caught sight of her, aloft between the hazels.</p> + +<p>"Hallo!" he challenged. "A happy month to you!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, please!" Miss Marty covered her face.</p> + +<p>"I'll spread it out to dry on the stones here."</p> + +<p>"Please give it back to me. Yes, please, I beg of you!"</p> + +<p>"I don't see the sense of that," answered the Doctor. "You can't +possibly wear it until it's dry, you know."</p> + +<p>"But I'd <i>rather</i>."</p> + +<p>"Are you anchored up there? Very well; then I'll bring it up to you +in a minute or so. But just wait a little; for you wouldn't ask me +to come with half my face unshaven, would you?"</p> + +<p>"I can go back.… No, I can't. The bank is too slippery.… +But I can look the other way," added Miss Marty, heroically.</p> + +<p>"I really don't see why you should," answered the Doctor, as he +resumed his kneeling posture. "Now, to my mind," he went on in the +intervals of finishing his toilet, "there's no harm in it, and, +speaking as a man, it gives one a pleasant sociable feeling."</p> + +<p>"I—have often wondered how it was done," confessed Miss Marty. +"It looks horribly dangerous."</p> + +<p>"The fact is," said the Doctor, wiping his blade, "I cannot endure to +feel unshaven, even when campaigning."</p> + +<p>He restored the razor to his haversack, blew out the spirit-lamp, +emptied the tin cup on the stones, packed up, resumed his shako, and +stood erect.</p> + +<p>"My stocking, please!" Miss Marty pleaded.</p> + +<p>"It is by no means dry yet," he answered, stooping and examining it. +"Let me help you down, that you may see for yourself."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I <i>couldn't</i>!"</p> + +<p>"Meaning your foot and ankle? Believe me you have no cause to be +ashamed of <i>them</i>, Miss Marty," the Doctor assured her gallantly, +climbing the slope and extending an arm for her to lean upon.</p> + +<p>"Those people—across the water," she protested, with a slight blush +and a nod in the direction of the shouting, which for some minutes +had been growing louder.</p> + +<p>"Our brave fellows—if, as I imagine, the uproar proceeds from them— +are pardonably flushed with their victory. They are certainly +incapable, at this distance, of the nice observation with which your +modesty credits them. Good Lord!—now you mention it—what a racket! +I sincerely trust they will not arouse Sir Felix, whose temper— +<i>experto crede</i>—is seldom at its best in the small hours. There, if +you will lean your weight on me and advance your foot—the uncovered +one—to this ledge—Nay, now!"</p> + +<p>"But it hurts," said Miss Marty, wincing, with a catch of her breath. +"I fear I must have run a thorn into it."</p> + +<p>"A thorn?" The Doctor seized the professional opportunity, lifted +her bodily off the slope, and lowered her to the beach. "There, now, +if you will sit absolutely still… for one minute. I command +you! Yes, as I suspected—a gorse-prickle!"</p> + +<p>He ran to his haversack, and, returning with a pair of tweezers, took +the hurt foot between both hands.</p> + +<p>"Pray remain still… for one moment. There—it is out!" +He held up the prickle triumphantly between the tweezers. "You have +heard, Miss Marty, of the slave Andrew Something-or-other and the +lion? Though it couldn't have been Andrew really, because there are +no lions in Scotland—except, I believe, on their shield. He was +hiding for some reason in a cave, and a lion came along, and—well, +it doesn't seem complimentary even if you turn a lion into a lioness, +but it came into my head and seemed all right to start with."</p> + +<p>"When I was a governess," said Miss Marty, "I used often to set it +for dictation. I had, I remember, the same difficulty you experience +with the name of the hero."</p> + +<p>"Did you?" the Doctor exclaimed, delightedly. "That <i>is</i> a +coincidence, isn't it? I sometimes think that when two minds are, as +one might say, attuned—"</p> + +<p>"They are making a most dreadful noise," said Miss Marty, with a +glance across the river. "Did I hear you say that you were +victorious to-night?"</p> + +<p>"Completely."</p> + +<p>"The Major is a wonderful man."</p> + +<p>"Wonderful! As I was saying, when two minds are, as one might say, +attuned—"</p> + +<p>"He succeeds in everything he touches."</p> + +<p>"It is a rare talent."</p> + +<p>"I sometimes wonder how, with his greatness—for he cannot but be +conscious of it—he endures the restrictions of our narrow sphere. +I mean," Miss Marty went on, as the Doctor lifted his eyebrows in +some surprise, "the petty business of a country town such as ours."</p> + +<p>"Oh," said the Doctor. "Ah, to be sure!… I supposed for a +moment that you were referring to the—er—terrestrial globe."</p> + +<p>He sighed. Miss Marty sighed likewise. Across in the covert of the +woods someone had begun to beat a tattoo on the drum. Presently a +cornet joined in, shattering the echoes with wild ululations.</p> + +<p>"Those fellows will be sorry if Sir Felix catches them," observed the +Doctor, anxiously. "I can't think what Hymen's about, to allow it. +The noise comes from right under the home-park, too."</p> + +<p>"You depreciate the Major!" Miss Marty tapped her bare foot +impatiently on the pebbles; but, recollecting herself, drew it back +with a blush.</p> + +<p>"I do not," answered the Doctor, hotly. "I merely say that he is +allowing his men yonder to get out of hand."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps <i>you</i> had better go, and, as the poet puts it, 'ride on the +whirlwind and direct the storm,'" she suggested, with gentle sarcasm.</p> + +<p>The Doctor rose stiffly. "Perhaps, on the whole, I had. +Your stocking"—he lifted and felt it carefully—"will be dry in five +minutes or so. Shall I direct Cai Tamblyn to bring the boat hither +if I pass him on my way?"</p> + +<p>She glanced up with a quivering lip.</p> + +<p>"Isn't—isn't that a Sulphur Yellow?" she asked, pointing to a +butterfly which wavered past them and poised itself for an instant on +a pebble by the brink of the pool.</p> + +<p>"Eh? By George! so it is." The Doctor caught up his shako and raced +off in pursuit. "Steady now!… Is he gone?… Yes.… No, +I have him!" he called, as with a swift wave of his arm he brought +the shako down smartly on the pebbles and, kneeling, held it down +with both hands.</p> + +<p>"Where?" panted Miss Marty.</p> + +<p>"Here… if you will stoop while I lift the brim.… Carefully, +please. Now!"</p> + +<p>Miss Marty stooped, but could not reach low enough to peer under the +shako. She dropped on her knees. The Doctor was kneeling already. +He showed her how to look, and this brought their cheeks close +together.…</p> + +<p>"Oh!" cried Miss Marty, suddenly.</p> + +<p>"I couldn't help it," said the Doctor.</p> + +<p>"And—and you have let him escape!" She buried her face in both +hands, and broke into a fit of weeping.</p> + +<p>"I don't care.… Yes, I do!" He caught her hands away from her +face and, their hiding being denied her, she leant her brow against +his shoulder. With that, his arm crept around her waist.</p> + +<p>For a while he let her sob out her emotion. Then, taking her firmly +by both wrists, he looked once into her eyes, led her to a seat upon +the pebble ridge, and sat himself down beside her.</p> + +<p>For a long while they rested there in silence, hand clasped in hand. +The uproar across the river had ceased. They heard only the splash +of the small waterfall and, in its pauses, the call of bird to bird, +mating amid the hazels and the oaks.</p> + +<br><p> +They drew apart suddenly, warned by the sound of dipping oars, the +creak of thole-pins; and in a few seconds the rower hove into view, +pulling up-stream as if for dear life. It was Cai Tamblyn. Catching +sight of them, with a sharp exclamation he ceased rowing, held water, +and bringing the boat's nose round, headed in for shore.</p> + +<p>"You're wanted, quick!" he called to the Doctor. "They sent me off +in search of you."</p> + +<p>"Hey? What? Has there been an accident?"</p> + +<p>Cai brought his boat alongside, glanced at Miss Marty, and lowered +his voice.</p> + +<p>"'Tis Lady Felix-Williams. These here conquerin' 'eroes of the +Major's have swarmed down through the woods an' ran foul of the +liquor. The Band in partikler's as drunk as Chloe, an' what with +horning and banging under her ladyship's window, they've a-scared her +before her time. She's crying out at this moment, and old Sir Felix +around in his dressing-gown like Satan let loose. Talk about +Millenniums!"</p> + +<p>"Good Lord!" Dr. Hansombody caught up his haversack. +"The Millennium? I'd clean forgot about it!"</p> + +<p>Miss Marty gazed at him with innocent inquiring eyes.</p> + +<p>"But—but isn't this the Millennium?" she asked.</p> + + +<br> +<br> +<p><a name="11"></a> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER X.</h3> +<br> + +<h4>GUNNER SOBEY TURNS LOOSE THE MILLENNIUM.</h4> + +<p>Let us return for a while to Talland Cove, and to the moment when +Captain Arbuthnot's Dragoons broke ambush and charged down upon the +Gallants.</p> + +<p>Of all our company you will remember that Gunner Sobey passed for the +readiest man. This reputation he now and instantly vindicated. +For happening to be posted on the extreme left in the shadow of the +western cliff, and hearing a sudden cry, "The French! The French!" +he neither fell back with the rest of the crowd nor foolhardily +resisted an enemy whose strength could not yet be measured: but +leaping aside, and by great good luck finding foothold on the rocks +to his left, he wriggled over the low ledge of the cliff and thence— +now clutching at the grass bents or clusters of the sea-pink, now +digging his fingers into the turf, but always flat, or nearly flat, +on his belly—he wormed his way at incredible speed up the slope, +found covert behind a tall furze-bush, and surveyed for a few seconds +the scene below him.</p> + +<p>The outcries which yet continued, the splashing as of men in +desperate struggle at the water's edge, the hoarse words of command, +the scurrying lanterns, the gleam of a hundred tossing sabres—all +these told their own tale to Gunner Sobey. He arose and ran again; +nor drew breath until he had gained the top of the rough brake and +flung himself over a stone wall into the dry ditch of a vast pasture +field that domed itself far above him against the starry heavens.</p> + +<p>Now let it be understood that what lent wings to Gunner Sobey's heels +was not cowardice, but an overmastering desire to reach home with all +speed. Let no reader mistake for panic what was in truth exceptional +presence of mind.</p> + +<p>The Major, you must know, had drawn up, some months before, and +issued in a General Order, certain <i>Instructions in Case of +Invasion</i>—in case, that is to say, the enemy should momentarily +break through our coast defence and effect an actual footing. +The main body of the Gallants would then, converting itself into a +rearguard, cover the town and keep the foe in check, while separate +detachments fell back swiftly, each to execute its assigned duty. +For example:</p> + +<p>Detachments A and B would round up and drive off the cattle.</p> + +<p>Detachment C would assist the escape of the women and children.</p> + +<p>Detachment D would collect and carry off provisions, and destroy what +was left.</p> + +<p>Detachment E would set fire to the corn and the hayricks.</p> + +<p>Detachment F would horse themselves and ride inland to warn the towns +and villages, and make all possible preparations for blowing up the +bridges and otherwise impeding the enemy's advance after the +rearguard's passage. And so on.</p> + +<p>Gunner Sobey, though but a volunteer, possessed that simplicity of +intellect which we have come to prize as the first essential in a +British soldier. It was not his to reason why; not his to ask how +the French had gained a footing in Talland Cove, or how, having +gained it, they were to be dislodged. Once satisfied of their +arrival, he left them, as his soldierly training enjoined, severely +alone. Deplorable as he might deem the occurrence, it had happened; +and <i>ipso facto</i>, it consigned him, in accordance with general +orders, to Detachment D, with the duties and responsibilities of that +detachment. On these then—and at first on these, and these only—he +bent his practical, resolute mind. It will be seen if he stopped +short with them.</p> + +<p>Picking himself up from the dry ditch, intent only on heading for +home, he was aware of a dark object on the brink above him; which at +first he took for a bramble bush, and next, seeing it move, for a +man.</p> + +<p>It is no discredit to Gunner Sobey that, taken suddenly in the +darkness, and at so hopeless a disadvantage, he felt his knees shake +under him for a moment.</p> + +<p>"Parley-voo?" he ventured.</p> + +<p>The proverb says that a Polperro jackass is surprised at nothing, and +this one, which had been browsing on the edge of the ditch, merely +gazed.</p> + +<p>"I—I ax your pardon," went on Gunner Sobey, still slightly unhinged. +"The fact is, I mistook you for another person."</p> + +<p>The jackass drew back a little. It seemed to Gunner Sobey to be +breathing hard, but otherwise it betrayed no emotion.</p> + +<p>"Soh, then! Soh, my beauty!" said Gunner Sobey, and having clambered +the ditch, reached out a caressing hand.</p> + +<p>The donkey retreated, backing, step by step: and as Gunner Sobey +stared a white blaze on the animal's face grew more and more distinct +to him.</p> + +<p>"Eh? Why, surely—soh, then!—you're Jowter Puckey's naggur? And if +so—and I'll be sworn to you, seein' you close—what's become of th' +old mare I sold him last Marti'mas?"</p> + +<p>The beast still retreated. But Gunner Sobey's wits were now working +rapidly. If Jowter Puckey pastured his jackass here, why here then +(it was reasonable to surmise) he also pastured the old mare, +Pleasant: and if Pleasant browsed anywhere within earshot, why the +chances were she would remember and respond to her former master's +call.</p> + +<p>I repeat that Gunner Sobey was a ready man and a brave. Without +pausing to reflect that the French might hear him, he put two fingers +in his mouth and whistled into the night.</p> + +<p>For a while there came no reply. He had his two fingers in his mouth +to repeat the call when, happening to glance at the jackass, he +perceived the beast's ears go up and its head slew round towards the +ridge. Doubtless it had caught the distant echo of hoofs; for half a +minute later a low whinny sounded from the summit of the dark slope, +and a grey form came lumbering down at a trot, halted, and thrust +forward its muzzle to be caressed.</p> + +<p>"Pleasant! Oh, my dear Pleasant!" stammered Gunner Sobey, reaching +out a hand and fondling first her nose, then her ears. He could have +thrown both arms around her ewe neck and hugged her. "How did I come +to sell 'ee?"</p> + +<p>To be sure, if he had not, this good fortune had never befallen him.</p> + +<p>Neither Gunner Sobey nor the mare—nor, for that matter, the +jackass—had ever read the eighteenth book of Homer's Iliad; and this +must be their excuse for letting pass the encounter with less +eloquence than I, its narrator, might have made a fortune by +reporting. For once Gunner Sobey's readiness failed him, under +emotion too deep for words. He laid a hand on the mare's withers and +heaved himself astride, choosing a seat well back towards the +haunches, and so avoiding the more pronounced angles in her +framework. Then leaning forward and patting her neck he called to +her.</p> + +<p>"Home, my beauty! I'll stick on, my dear, if you'll but do the rest. +Cl'k!"</p> + +<p>She gathered up her infirm limbs and headed for home at a canter.</p> + +<p>For a while the jackass trotted beside them; but coming to the +gate and dismounting to open it, Gunner Sobey turned him back. +Possibly the mare had a notion she was being stolen, for no sooner +had her rider remounted than she struck off into a lane on the right +hand, avoiding the road to Polperro where her present owner dwelt; +and so, fetching a circuit by a second lane—this time to the left— +clattered downhill past the sleeping hamlet of Crumplehorn, and +breasted the steep coombe and the road that winds up beside it past +the two Kellows to Mabel Burrow. Here on the upland she pulled +herself together, and reaching out into a gallant stride, started on +the long descent towards Troy at a pace that sent the night air +whizzing by Gunner Sobey's ears. Past Carneggan she thundered, past +Tredudwell; and thence, swinging off into the road for the Little +Ferry, still down hill by Lanteglos Vicarage, by Ring of Bells, to +the ford of Watergate in the valley bottom, where now a bridge +stands; but in those days the foot-passengers crossed by a plank and +a hand-rail. Splashing through the ford and choosing unguided the +road which bore away to the right from the silent smithy, and steeply +uphill to Whiddycross Common, she took it gamely though with fast +failing breath. She had been foaled in Troy parish, and marvellously +she was proving, after thirty years (her age was no less), the mettle +of her ancient pasture. While he owned her, Gunner Sobey—who in +extra-military hours traded as a carrier and haulier between Troy and +the market-towns to the westward—had worked her late and fed her +lean; but the most of us behold our receding youth through a mist of +romance, and it may be that old worn-out Pleasant conceived herself +to be cantering back to fields where the grass grew perennially sweet +and old age was unknown. At any rate, she earned her place this +night among the great steeds of romance—Xanthus, Bucephalus, +Harpagus, Black Auster, Sleipnir and Ilderim, Bayardo and +Brigliadoro, the Cid's Babieca, Dick Turpin's Black Bess; not to +mention the two chargers, Copenhagen and Marengo, whom Waterloo was +yet to make famous. As she mounted the last rise by Whiddycross +Green her ribs were heaving sorely, her breath came in short quick +coughs, her head lagged almost between her bony knees; but none the +less she held on down the steep hill, all strewn with loose stones, +to the ferry slip; and there, dropping her haunches, slid, checked +herself almost at the water's edge, and stood quivering.</p> + +<p>Billy Bates, the ferryman at Little Ferry, had heard the clatter of +hoofs, and tumbled out to unchain his boat; a trifling matter for +him, since he habitually slept in his clothes.</p> + +<p>"Hallo!" said he, holding his lantern high and taking stock of the +gunner's regimentals. "I allowed you'd be a messenger from Sir +Felix. They tell me her leddyship is expectin'."</p> + +<p>"I pity her then," gasped Gunner Sobey, and waved an arm. "Man, the +French be landed, an' the country's ablaze!"</p> + +<p>Billy Bates set down his lantern on the slip and ran two trembling +hands through his scanty locks.</p> + +<p>"If that's so," he answered, "you don't get no boat of mine. There's +Hosken's blue boat; you'll find her moored off by a shoreline. +Take <i>she</i> if you will; he's a single man."</p> + +<p>"Darn your old carcass!" swore Gunner Sobey. "I wish now I'd waited +to cross over before tellin' 'ee!"</p> + +<p>"I dare say you do. Well, good night, soce. I'm off to tell the old +woman."</p> + +<p>Man is a selfish animal. As Gunner Sobey hauled Hosken's blue boat +to shore, poor Pleasant came down the slip-way and rubbed her muzzle +against his sleeve, dumbly beseeching him to fetch the horse-boat +that she too might cross. He struck her sharply across the nose, +and, jumping aboard, thrust off from the shore.</p> + +<br><p> +In telling Miss Marty that the town was deserted, Cai Tamblyn had +forgotten the Vicar.</p> + +<p>That good man, it is perhaps superfluous to say, had not sought his +bed. He was a widower, and had no one to dissuade him from keeping +vigil until daybreak. At ten o'clock, therefore, having seen to the +trimming of his lamp and dismissed the servants to rest, he lit his +study fire, set the kettle upon it, and having mixed himself a bowl +of brandy-punch (in the concoction of which all Troy acknowledged him +to be an expert), drew his arm-chair close to the genial blaze, and +sat alternately sipping his brew and conning for the thousandth time +the annotated pamphlet in which he had demonstrated exhaustively, +redundantly, irrefutably, beyond possibility of disbelief or doubt, +that with the morrow the world's great age must be renewed and the +Millennium dawn upon earth.</p> + +<p>For an hour and a half, or maybe three-quarters, he sat reading and +reassuring himself that the armour of his proof was indeed +proof-armour and exposed no chink to assault; and then—</p> + +<p>The Vicar was a man of clean conscience and regular habits. +He closed his eyes to review the argument. By and by his chin +dropped forward on his chest. He slept. He dreamt. His dreams were +formless, uneasy; such as one might expect who deserts his bed and +his course of habit to sleep upright in an arm-chair. A vague +trouble haunted them; or, rather, a presentiment of trouble. It grew +and grew; and almost as it became intolerable, a bell seemed to clang +in his ears, and he started up, awake, gripping his chair, his brow +clammy with a sudden sweat. He glanced around him. The fire was +cold, his lamp burned low, his book had fallen to the floor. Was it +this that had aroused him? No; surely a bell had clanged in his +ears. His brain kept the echo of it yet.</p> + +<p>He listened. The clang was not repeated; but gradually his ears +became aware of a low murmuring, irregular yet continuous; a sound, +it seemed, of voices, yet not of human voices; a moaning, and yet not +quite a moaning, but rather what the French would call a +<i>mugissement</i>. Yes, it resembled rather the confused lowing of +cattle than any other sound known to him. But that was +inconceivable.…</p> + +<p>He stepped to the window-curtains through which the pale dawn +filtered; pulled them aside and started back with a cry of something +more than dismay. The Vicarage faced upon the churchyard; and the +churchyard was filled—packed—with cattle! Oxen and cows, steers, +heifers, and young calves; at least thirty score were gathered there, +a few hardier phlegmatic beasts cropping the herbage on the graves; +but the mass huddled together, rubbing flanks, swaying this way and +that in the pressure of panic as corn is swayed by flukes of summer +wind.</p> + +<p>The Vicar was no coward. Recovering himself, he ran to the passage, +caught his hat down from the peg, and flung wide the front door.</p> + +<p>A little beyond his gate a lime-tree walk led down through the +churchyard to the town. But gazing over the chines of the herd +beyond his garden railing, he saw that through this avenue he could +not hope to force a passage; it was crowded so densely that dozen +upon dozen of the poor brutes stood with horns interlocked, unable to +lift or lower their heads.</p> + +<p>To the right a line of cottages bounded the churchyard and overlooked +it; and between them and the churchyard wall there ran a narrow +cobbled lane known as Pease Alley (<i>i.e., pis aller</i>, the Vicar was +wont to explain humorously). Through this he might hope to reach +the Lower Town and discover some interpretation of the portent. +He opened the gate boldly.</p> + +<p>It was obvious, whatever might be the reason, that terror possessed +the cattle. At the creaking of the gate the nearest brutes +retreated, pressing back against their fellows, lowering their heads; +and yet not viciously, but as though to meet an unknown danger.</p> + +<p>"Soh!" called the Vicar. "Soh, then!… upon my word," he went on +whimsically, answering the appeal in their frightened, liquid eyes, +"it's no use your asking me. You can't possibly be worse puzzled +than I am!"</p> + +<p>He thrust a passage between them and hurried down Pease Alley. +Twice he paused, each time beneath the windows of a sleeping cottage, +and hailed its occupants by name. No one answered. Only, on the +other side of the alley, a few of the beasts ceased their lowing for +a while, and, thrusting their faces over the wall, gazed at him with +patient wonder.</p> + +<p>At the lower end of the alley, where it makes an abrupt bend around +the hinder premises of the "Ship" Inn before giving egress upon the +street, the Vicar lifted his head and sniffed the morning air. +Surely his nose detected a trace of smoke in it—not the reek of +chimneys, but a smoke at once more fragrant and more pungent.…</p> + +<p>Yes, smoke was drifting high among the elms above the church. +The rooks, too, up there, were cawing loudly and wheeling in circles.</p> + +<p>He dropped his gaze to his feet, and once more started back in alarm. +A gutter crossed the alley here, and along it rushed and foamed a +dark copper-coloured flood which, in an instant, his eye had traced +up to the back doorstep of the "Ship," over which it poured in a +cascade.</p> + +<p>Beer? Yes; patently, to sight and smell alike, it was beer. With a +cry, the Vicar ran towards the doorway, wading ankle-deep in beer as +he crossed the threshold and broke in to the kitchen. The whole +house swam with beer, but not with beer only; for when, no inmate +answering his call, he followed the torrent up through yet another +doorway and found himself in the inn cellar, in the dim light of its +iron-barred window he halted to gaze before one, two, three, a dozen +casks of ale, port, sherry, brandy, all pouring their contents in a +general flood upon the brick-paved floor.</p> + +<p>Here, as he afterwards confessed, his presence of mind failed him; +and small blame to him, I say! Without a thought of turning off the +taps, he waded back to the doorway and leaned there awhile to recover +his wits with his breath.</p> + +<p>While he leaned, gasping, with a hand against the door-jamb, the +clock in the church tower above him chimed and struck the hour of +five. He gazed up at it stupidly, saw the smoke drifting through the +elm-tops beyond, heard the rooks cawing over them, and then suddenly +bethought himself of the bell which had clanged amid his dreams.</p> + +<p>Yes, it had been the clang of a real bell, and from his own belfry. +But how could anyone have gained entrance into the church, of which +he alone kept the keys? How? Why, by the little door at the east +end of the south aisle, which stood ajar. Across the alley he could +see it, and that it stood ajar; and more by token a heifer had +planted her forefoot on the step and was nosing it wider. Someone +had forced the lock. Someone was at this moment within the church!</p> + +<p>The Vicar collected his wits and ran for it; thrust his way once more +through the crowd of cattle, and through the doorway into the aisle, +shouting a challenge. A groan from the belfry answered him, and +there, in the dim light, he almost stumbled over a man seated on the +cold flags of the pavement and feebly rubbing the lower part of his +spine.</p> + +<p>It is notoriously dangerous to ring a church bell without knowing the +trick of it. Gunner Sobey, having broken into the belfry and laid +hands on the first bell-rope (which happened to be that of the +tenor), had pulled it vigorously, let go too late, and dropped a good +ten feet plumb in a sitting posture.</p> + +<p>"Good Lord!" The Vicar peered at him, stooping. "Is that Sobey?"</p> + +<p>"It <i>was</i>," groaned Sobey. "I'll never be the same man again."</p> + +<p>"But what has happened?"</p> + +<p>"Happened? Why, I tumbled off the bell-rope. You might ha' guessed +<i>that</i>."</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes; but why?"</p> + +<p>"Because I didn' know how it worked." Gunner Sobey turned his face +away wearily and continued to rub his hurt. "I didn't know till now, +either, that a man could be stunned at this end," he added.</p> + +<p>"Man, I see you're suffering, but answer me for goodness' sake! +What's the meaning of all these cattle outside, and the taps running, +and the smoke up yonder on the hill? And why—?"</p> + +<p>"I done my best," murmured Gunner Sobey drowsily. "Single-handed I +done it, but I done my best."</p> + +<p>"Are you telling me that all this has been <i>your</i> doing?"</p> + +<p>"A man can't very well be ten detachments at once, can he?" demanded +the Gunner, sitting erect of a sudden and speaking with an air of +great lucidity. "At least not in the Artillery. The liquor, now— +I've run it out of every public-house in the town; that was +Detachment D's work. And the hayricks; properly speakin', <i>they</i> +belonged to Detachment E, and I hadn' time to fire more than Farmer +Coad's on my way down wi' the cattle. <i>And</i> the alarm bell, you may +argue, wasn' any business of mine; an' I wish with all my heart I'd +never touched the dam thing! But with the French at your doors, so +to speak—"</p> + +<p>"The French?"</p> + +<p>"Didn' I tell you? Then I must have overlooked it. Iss, iss, the +French be landed at Talland Cove, and murderin' as they come! +And the Troy lads be cut down like a swathe o' grass; and I, only I, +escaped to carry the news. And you call this a Millenyum, I +suppose?" he wound up with sudden inconsequent bitterness.</p> + +<p>But the Vicar apparently did not hear. "The French? The French?" he +kept repeating. "Oh, Heaven, what's to be done?"</p> + +<p>"If you was something more than a pulpit Christian," suggested Gunner +Sobey, "you'd hoist me pickaback an' carry me over to hospital; for I +can't walk with any degree of comfort, an' that's a fact. And next +you'd turn to an' drive off the cattle inland, an' give warning as +you go. 'Tis a question if I live out this night, an' 'tis another +question if I want to; but, dead or alive, it sha'n't be said of me +that I hadn' presence of mind."</p> + + +<br> +<br> +<p><a name="12"></a> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XI.</h3> +<br> + +<h4>THE MAJOR LEAVES US.</h4> + +<p>Two minutes later the Vicar, staggering up to the hospital door with +Gunner Sobey on his back, came to a terrified halt as his ears caught +the <i>tramp, tramp</i> of a body of men approaching from the direction of +Passage Slip, which is the landing-place of the Little Ferry. He had +scarce time to lower his burden upon the doorstep before the head of +the company swung into view around the street corner. With a gasp he +recognised them.</p> + +<p>They were the Troy Gallants, and Major Hymen marched beside them. +But they came with no banners waving, without tuck of drum—a sadly +depleted corps, and by their countenances a sadly dejected one.</p> + +<p>For the moment, however, in the revulsion of his feelings, the Vicar +failed to observe this. He ran forward with both arms extended to +greet the Major.</p> + +<p>"My friend!" he cried tremulously. "You are alive!"</p> + +<p>"Certainly," the Major answered. "Why not?" He was dishevelled, +unshaven, travel-stained, haggard, and at the same time flushed of +face. Also he appeared a trifle sulky.</p> + +<p>"What has happened?"</p> + +<p>"Well"—the Major turned on him almost viciously—"<i>you</i> may call it +the Millennium!"</p> + +<p>"But the French—?"</p> + +<p>"Eh? Excuse me—I don't take your meaning. <i>What</i> French?"</p> + +<p>"I was given to understand—we have been taking certain precautions," +stammered the Vicar, and gazed around, seeking Gunner Sobey (but +Gunner Sobey had dived into the hospital and was putting himself to +bed). "You don't tell me the alarm was false!"</p> + +<p>"My good Vicar, I haven't a notion at what you're driving; and excuse +me again if in this hour of disgrace I find myself in no humour to +halt here and bandy explanations."</p> + +<p>"Disgrace?"</p> + +<p>"Disgrace," repeated the Major, gazing sternly back on his abashed +ranks. His breast swelled; he seemed on the point to say more; but, +indignation mastering him, mutely with a wave of the hand he bade the +Gallants resume their march. Mutely, contritely, with bowed heads, +they obeyed and followed him down the street, leaving the Vicar at +gaze.</p> + +<br><p> +What had happened? Why, this.—</p> + +<p>After the fiasco in Talland Cove Captain Arbuthnot had formed up his +Dragoons and given the word to ride back to Bodmin Barracks, their +temporary quarters, whence Mr. Smellie had summoned them.</p> + +<p>He was in the devil of a rage. From the Barracks to Talland Cove is +a good fourteen miles as the crow flies, and you may allow another +two miles for the windings of the road (which, by the way, was a +pestilently bad one). To ride sixteen miles by night, chafing all +the while under the orders of a civilian, and to return another +sixteen, smarting, from a fool's errand, is (one must admit) +excusably trying to the military temper. Smellie, to be sure, and +Smellie alone, had been discomfited. Smellie's discomfiture had been +so signally personal as to divert all ridicule from the Dragoons. +Smellie, moreover, had made himself confoundedly obnoxious.</p> + +<p>Smellie had given himself airs during the ride from Bodmin; and +Captain Arbuthnot had with an ill grace submitted to them, because +the fellow knew the country. They were quit of him now; but how to +find the way home Captain Arbuthnot did not very well know. He rode +forward boldly, however, keeping his eyes upon the stars, and +steering, so far as the circuitous lanes would allow him, north by +west.</p> + +<p>Bearing away too far to the right, as men are apt to do in the +darkness, he missed the cross-ways by Ashen-cross, whence his true +line ran straight through Pelynt; and after an hour or so of +blind-man's-buff in a maze of cornfields, the gates of which seemed +to hide in the unlikeliest corners, emerged upon a fairly good high +road, which at first deceived him by running west-by-north and then +appeared to change its mind and, receding through west, took a +determined southerly curve back towards the coast. In short, Captain +Arbuthnot had entirely lost his bearings.</p> + +<p>Deciding once more to trust the stars, he left the high road, struck +due north across country again and by and by found himself entangled +in a valley bottom beside the upper waters of the same stream which +Gunner Sobey had forded two hours before and some miles below. +The ground hereabouts was marshy, and above the swamp an almost +impenetrable furze-brake clothed both sides of the valley. +The Dragoons fought their way through, however, and were rewarded, a +little before dawn, by reaching a good turf slope and, at the head of +it, a lane which led them to the small village of Lanreath.</p> + +<p>The inhabitants of Lanreath, aroused from their beds by the tramp of +hoofs and with difficulty persuaded that their visitors were not the +French, at length directed Captain Arbuthnot to the village inn, the +"Punchbowl," where he wisely determined to bait and rest his horses, +which by this time were nearly foundered. Being heavy brutes, they +had fared ill in the morass, and the most of them were plastered with +mud to their girths.</p> + +<p>The troopers, having refreshed themselves with beer, flung themselves +down to rest, some on the settles of the inn-kitchen, others on the +benches about the door, and others again in the churchyard across the +road, where they snored until high day under the curious gaze of the +villagers.</p> + +<p>So they slept for two hours and more; and then, being summoned by +trumpet, mounted and took the road again, the most of them yet heavy +with slumber and not a few yawning in their saddles and only kept +from nodding off by the discomfort of their tall leathern stocks.</p> + +<p>In this condition they had proceeded for maybe two miles, when from a +by-lane on their left a horseman dashed out upon the road ahead, +reined up, and, wheeling his horse in face of them, stood high in his +stirrups and waved an arm towards the lane by which he had come.</p> + +<p>It took Captain Arbuthnot some seconds to recognise this apparition +for Mr. Smellie. But it was indeed that unfortunate man.</p> + +<p>He had lost both hat and wig; his coat he had discarded, no doubt to +be rid of its noisome odour: and altogether he cut the strangest +figure as he gesticulated there in the early sunshine. But the man +was in earnest—so much in earnest that he either failed to note, or +noting, disregarded, the wrathful frown with which Captain Arbuthnot, +having halted his troop, rode forward at a walk to meet him.</p> + +<p>"Back, Captain, back!" shouted Mr. Smellie, pointing down the lane.</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon, sir"—the Captain reined up and addressed him +with cold, incisive politeness—"but may I suggest that you have +played the fool with us sufficiently for one night, and that my men's +tempers are short?"</p> + +<p>"Havers!" exclaimed the indomitable Smellie, rising yet higher in his +stirrups and lifting a hand for silence. "I ask ye to listen to the +racket down yonder. The drum, now!" (Sure enough Captain Arbuthnot, +pricking his ears, heard the tunding of a drum far away in the woods +to the southward.) "Man, they've diddled us! While they put that +trick on us at Talland Cove, their haill womankind was rafting the +true cargo up the river. I've ridden down, I tell you, and the clue +of their game I hold in my two hands here from start to finish. +The brandy's yonder in Sir Felix's woods, and the men are lying +around it fou-drunk as the Israelites among the pots. Man, if ye +would turn to-night's laugh, turn your troop and follow, and ye shall +cull them like gowans!"</p> + +<p>"It is throwing the haft after the hatchet," hesitated Captain +Arbuthnot, impressed against his will by the earnestness of the +appeal. "You have misled us once to-night, I must remind you; and I +give you fair warning that my troopers will not bear fooling twice."</p> + +<p>With all his faults the Riding Officer did not lack courage. +Disdaining the threat, he waved his hand to the Dragoons to follow +and put his horse at a canter down the leafy lane.</p> + +<p>It is recorded in the High History of the Grail, of Sir Lohot, son of +King Arthur, that he had a marvellous weakness; which was, that no +sooner had he slain a man than he fell across his body. So it +happened this night to the valiant men of Troy.</p> + +<p>The Dragoons, emerging from the woods of Pentethy into close view of +the house and its terrace and slope that falls from the terrace to +the river, found themselves intruders upon the queerest of domestic +dramas.</p> + +<p>On the terrace among the leaden gods danced a little man, wigless, in +an orange-coloured dressing-gown and a fury of choler. At the head +of the green slope immediately under the balustrade Major Hymen, +surrounded by a moderately sober staff, faced the storm in an +attitude at once dignified and patient.</p> + +<p>"An idea has occurred to me," he put in at length with stately +deliberation as Sir Felix paused panting for fresh words of +opprobrium. "It is, sir, that overlooking the few minutes by which +our salvoes were—er—antedated, you allow us to acclaim your +latest-born as Honorary-Colonel of our corps."</p> + +<p>"But," almost shrieked Sir Felix, "damn your eyes, it's <i>twins</i>—and +both <i>girls</i>!"</p> + +<p>The Major winced. A rosy flush of indignation mantled his cheeks, +and only his habitual respect for the landed gentry (whom he was +accustomed to call the backbone of England) checked him on the verge +of a severe retort. As it was, he answered with fine suavity.</p> + +<p>"There is no true patriot, Sir Felix, but desires an accelerated +increase in our population just now, whether male or female. I trust +your good lady's zeal may be rewarded by a speedy recovery."</p> + +<p>Sir Felix fairly capered. "Accelerated! Acc—" he began, and, +choking over the word, turned and caught sight of the Dragoons as +they emerged from the woods, the sunlight flashing on their +cuirasses.</p> + +<p>He fell back against the pedestal of a leaden effigy of Julius Caesar +and plucked his dressing-gown about him with fumbling bewildered +hands. Was the whole British Army pouring into his peaceful park? +What had he done to bring down on his head the sportive mockery of +heaven, and at such a moment?</p> + +<p>But in the act of collapsing he looked across the balustrade and saw +the Major's face suddenly lose its colour. Then in an instant he +understood and pulled himself together.</p> + +<p>"Hey? A hunt breakfast, is it?" he inquired sardonically, and turned +to welcome the approaching troop. "Good morning, gentlemen! You +have come to draw my covers? Then let me suggest your beginning with +the plantation yonder to the right, where I can promise you good +sport."</p> + +<p>It was unneighbourly; an action remembered against Sir Felix to the +close of his life, as it deserved to be. He himself admitted later +that he had given way to momentary choler, and made what amends he +could by largess to the victims and their families. But it was long +before he recovered his place in our esteem. Indeed, he never wholly +recovered it: since of many dire consequences there was one, +unforeseen at the time, which proved to be irreparable. Over the +immediate consequences let me drop the curtain. <i>Male, male feriati +Troes!</i>… As a man at daybreak takes a bag and, going into the +woods, gathers mushrooms, so the Dragoons gathered the men of Troy. +… Mercifully the most of them were unconscious.</p> + +<p>Even less heart have I to dwell on the return of the merrymakers:</p> + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class = "noindent"> "But now, ye shepherd lasses, who shall lead<br> + Your wandering troops, or sing your virelays?"</p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + +<p>Sure no forlorner procession ever passed down Troy river than this, +awhile so jocund, mute now, irresponsive to the morning's smile, the +cuckoo's blithe challenge from the cliff. To the Major, seated in +the stern sheets of the leading boat, no one dared to speak. +They supposed his pecuniary loss to be heavier than it actually was— +since the Dragoons had after all surprised but a portion of the +cargo, and the leafy woods of Pentethy yet concealed many scores of +tubs of <i>eau-de-vie</i>; but they knew that he brooded over no pecuniary +loss. He had been outraged, betrayed as a neighbour, as a military +commander, and again as a father of his people; wounded in the house +of his friends; scourged with ridicule in the very seat of his +dignity. Maidens, inconsolable for lovers snatched from them and now +bound for Bodmin Gaol, hushed their sorrow and wiped their tears by +stealth, abashed before those tragic eyes which, fixed on the river +reach ahead, travelled beyond all petty private woe to meet the end +of all things with a tearless stare.</p> + +<p>So they returned, drew to the quays, and disembarked, unwitting yet +of worse discoveries awaiting them.</p> + +<p>In the hospital Gunner Sobey, having dived into bed, with great +presence of mind fell asleep. The Vicar had fled the town by the +North, or Passage, Gate, and was by this time devouring a country +walk in long strides, heedless whither they led him, vainly +endeavouring to compose his thoughts and readjust his prophecies in +the light of the morning's events—a process which from time to time +compelled him to halt and hold his head between both hands.</p> + +<p>The Major had slammed his front door, locked himself in his room, and +would give audience to no one.</p> + +<p>It was in vain that the inhabitants besieged his porch, demanding to +know if the town were bewitched. Who had gutted their shops? +Why the causeways swam with strong liquor? How the churchyard came +to be full of cattle? What hand had fired Farmer Elford's ricks? +In short, what in the world had happened, and what was to be done? +They came contritely, conscious of their undeserving; but to each and +all Scipio, from the head of the steps, returned the same answer. +His master was indisposed.</p> + +<p>Troy, ordinarily a busy town, did no business at all that day. +Tradesmen and workmen in small groups at every street-corner +discussed a mystery—or rather a series of mysteries—with which, as +they well knew, one man alone was competent to grapple. To his good +offices they had forfeited all right. Nevertheless, a crowd hung +about all day in front of the Mayor's house, nor dispersed until long +after nightfall. At eight o'clock next morning they reassembled, +word having flown through the town that Dr. Hansombody and Lawyer +Chinn had been summoned soon after daybreak to a private conference. +At eight-thirty the Vicar arrived and entered the house, Scipio +admitting him with ceremony and at once shutting the door behind him +with an elaborate show of caution.</p> + +<p>But at a quarter to ten precisely the door opened again and the great +man himself stood on the threshold. He wore civilian dress, and +carried a three-caped travelling cloak on his left arm. His right +hand grasped a valise. The sight of the crowd for a moment seemed to +discompose him. He drew back a pace and then, advancing, cleared his +throat.</p> + +<p>"My friends," said he, "I am bound on a journey. Your consciences +will tell you if I deserved yesterday's indignity, and how far you +might have obviated it. But I have communed with myself and decided +to overlook all personal offence. It is enough that certain of our +fellow-townsmen are in durance, and I go to release them. In short, +I travel to-day to Plymouth to seek the best legal advice for their +defence. In my absence I commit the good behaviour of Troy to your +keeping, one and all."</p> + +<p>You, who have read how, when Nelson left Portsmouth for death and +victory, the throng pressed after him down the beach in tears, and +ran into the water for a last grasp of his hand, conceive with what +emotion we lined up and escorted our hero to the ferry; through what +tears we watched him from the Passage Slip as he waved back from the +boat tiding him over to the farther shore, where at length Boutigo's +Van—"The Eclipse," Troy to Torpoint, No Smoking Inside—received and +bore him from our straining eyes.</p> + + +<br> +<br> +<p><a name="13"></a> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XII.</h3> +<br> + +<h4>A COLD DOUCHE ON A HOT FIT.</h4> + +<p>There lived at Plymouth, in a neat house at the back of the Hoe, and +not far from the Citadel, a certain Mr. Basket, a retired haberdasher +of Cheapside, upon whom the Major could count for a hospitable +welcome. The two had been friends—cronies almost—in their London +days; dining together daily at the same cook-shop, and as regularly +sharing after dinner a bottle of port to the health of King George +and Mr. Pitt. Nor, since their almost simultaneous retreat from the +capital, had they allowed distance to diminish their mutual regard. +They frequently corresponded, and their letters included many a +playful challenge to test one another's West Country hospitality.</p> + +<p>Now while the Major had (to put it mildly) but exchanged one sphere +of activity for another, Mr. Basket, a married man, embraced the +repose of a contemplative life; cultivating a small garden and taking +his wife twice a week to the theatre, of which he was a devotee. +These punctual jaunts, very sensibly practised as a purge against +dullness, together with the stir and hubbub of a garrison town in +which his walled garden stood isolated, as it were, all day long, +amid marchings, countermarchings, bugle-calls, and the rumble of +wagons filled with material of war, gave him a sense of being in the +swim—of close participation in the world's affairs; failing which a +great many folk seem to miss half the enjoyment of doing nothing in +particular.</p> + +<p>Mr. Basket welcomed the Major cordially, with a dozen rallying +comments on his healthy rural complexion, and carried him off to +admire the garden while Mrs. Basket enlarged her preparations for +dinner at five o'clock.</p> + +<p>The garden was indeed calculated to excite admiration, less for its +flowers—for Mr. Basket confessed ruefully that very few flowers +would grow with him—than for a hundred ingenuities by which this +defect was concealed.</p> + +<p>"And the beauty of it is," announced Mr. Basket, with a wave of his +hand towards a black-and-white edging compound of marrow bones and +the inverted bases of wine bottles, disposed alternately, "it +harbours no slugs. It saves labour, too; you would be surprised at +the sum it used to cost me weekly in labour alone. But," he went +on, "I pin my faith to oyster shells. They are, if in a nautical +town one may be permitted to speak breezily, my sheet anchor." +He indicated a grotto at the end of the walk. "Maria and me did the +whole of that."</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Basket is fond of gardening?" hazarded the Major.</p> + +<p>"She's extraordinary partial to oysters," Mr. Basket corrected him. +"We made it a principle from the first to use nothing but what we +consumed in the house. That don't apply to the statuary, of course, +which I have purchased at one time and another from an Italian dealer +who frequents the Hoe. The material is less durable than one might +wish; but I could not afford marble. The originals of these objects, +so the dealer informs me, are sold for very considerable sums of +money; in addition to which," went on Mr. Basket, lucidly, "he +carries them in a tray on his head, which, in the case of marble, +would be out of the question; and, as it is, how he contrives to keep +'em balanced passes my understanding. But he is an intelligent +fellow, and becomes very communicative as soon as he finds out you +have leanings for Art. Here's a group, for instance—Cupid and +Fisky—in the nude."</p> + +<p>"But, excuse me—" The Major stepped back and rubbed his chin +dubiously, for some careful hand had adorned the lovers with kilts of +pink wool in crochet work, and Psyche, in addition, wore a neat pink +turnover.</p> + +<p>"The artist <i>designed</i> 'em in the nude, but Maria worked the +petticoats, having very decided views, for which I don't blame her. +It keeps off the birds, too: not that the birds could do the same +damage here as in an ordinary garden."</p> + +<p>"I can well believe that."</p> + +<p>"But we were talking of oyster shells. They are, as I say, our +stand-by. To be sure, you can't procure 'em all the year round, like +marrow bones for instance; but, as I tell Maria, from a gardening +point of view that's almost a convenience. You can work at your beds +whenever there's an 'r' in the month, and then, during the summer, +take a spell, look about, and enjoy the results. Besides, it leaves +you free to plan out new improvements. Now, here"—Mr. Basket caught +his friend's arm, and leading him past a bust of Socrates ("an +Athenian," he explained in passing; "considered one of the wisest men +of antiquity, though not good-looking in <i>our</i> sense of the word "), +paused on the brink of a small basin, cunningly sunk in centre of a +round, pebble-paved area guarded by statuary—"I consider this my +masterpiece."</p> + +<p>"A fish-pond!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, and containing real fish; goldfish, you perceive. I keep it +supplied from a rain-water cistern at the top of the house, and feed +'em on bread-crumbs. Never tell <i>me</i>," said Mr. Basket, "that +animals don't reason!"</p> + +<p>"You certainly have made yourself a charming retreat," the Major +admitted, gazing about him.</p> + +<p>Mr. Basket beamed. "You remember the lines I was wont to declaim to +you, my friend, over our bottle in Cheapside?—</p> + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class = "noindent"> "'May I govern my passion with an absolute sway,<br> + And grow wiser and better as my strength wears away,<br> + Without gout or stone, by a gentle decay.…'"</p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + +<p>"For the last, it must be as Heaven pleases; but to some extent, you +see, I have come to enjoy my modest aspirations. Only until to-day +one thing was lacking. As poor Bannister used to quote it in the +play—you remember him?—</p> + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class = "noindent"> "'I've often wished that I had clear<br> + For life six hundred pounds a year<br> + A something-or-other house to lodge a friend.…'</p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + +<p>"Ay, my dear Hymen," Mr. Basket wrung the Major's hand with genuine +feeling, "you have been a long time putting off this visit; but, now +we have you, I promise we don't let you go in a hurry. We will toast +old days; we will go visit the play together as of old—yes, this +very night. For, as luck will have it, the stock company at the +Theatre Royal makes way to-night—for whom think you? No less a man +than Orlando B. Sturge, and in his great part of Tom Taffrail in +<i>Love Between Decks; or, The Triumph of Constancy</i>; a week's special +engagement with his own London company in honour of the Duke of +Clarence, who is paying us a visit just now at Admiralty House."</p> + +<p>"Sturge?" echoed the Major, doubtfully.</p> + +<p>"Good heavens, my dear fellow, don't tell me you haven't heard of +him! Really, now, really, you bury yourself—believe me, you do. +Why, for nautical parts, the stage hasn't his equal; and a voice, +they tell me, like Incledon's in his prime! Mrs. Basket and I have +reserved seats, and, now I come to think of it, we had best step down +to the theatre before dining, book yours, and arrange it so that we +sit in a row. The house will be crowded, if 'tis only for a view of +his Royal Highness, who will certainly attend if—hem!—equal to the +effort."</p> + +<p>"I had not heard of his being indisposed."</p> + +<p>"Nor is he, at this hour. But now and then… after his fourth +bottle… However, as I say, the house will certainly be crowded."</p> + +<p>"You'll excuse me, my friend, if I beg that you and your good wife +will trot off to the theatre to-night without troubling about me. +The—er—fact is, I have come up to Plymouth primarily to consult a +lawyer on a somewhat delicate business, and shall be glad of a few +hours' solitude this evening to prepare my case. Do you happen, by +the way, to know of a good lawyer? I wish for the very best advice +procurable."</p> + +<p>"Eh—eh? Delicate business, you say? My dear fellow, no +entanglement, I hope? You always <i>were</i>, you know.… But I've +said it a thousand times—you ought to get married; and Maria agrees +with me… a man of your presence, carrying his years as you do. +Eh? You're blushing, man. Then maybe 'tis the real thing, and +you've come up to talk over settlements?"</p> + +<p>"Tut-tut!" interposed the Major, who indeed had coloured up, and +apparently not with annoyance. "There's no woman at all in the case +I'm referring to." But here he checked himself. "Nay, I forgot; I'm +wrong there," he admitted; "and if she hadn't had twins, I don't +believe 'twould have happened."</p> + +<p>"Curious circumstance to forget," murmured Mr. Basket; but, +perceiving that the Major was indisposed to be communicative, pressed +him no further.</p> + +<p>At dinner Mrs. Basket, whose welcome had at first been qualified by +the prospect of having to give to the unexpected guest her seat at +<i>Love Between Decks</i> (on which, good soul, she had set her heart), +showed herself in her most amiable light. She was full of apologies +for deserting him. "If he had only given them warning. Not but that +she was delighted; and even now, if the Major would make use of her +ticket… And to leave him alone in the house—for the 'maid' +lived two streets away, and slept at home—it sounded so +inhospitable, did it not? But she hoped the Major would find his +room comfortable; there was a table for writing; and supper would be +laid in the parlour, if he should feel tired after his journey and +wish to retire to bed before their return. Would he be good enough +to forbear standing upon ceremony, and remember the case-bottles in +the cellaret on the right-hand of the sideboard? Also, by the way, +he must take temporary possession of the duplicate latchkey; and +then," added Mrs. Basket, "we shall feel you are quite one of <i>us</i>."</p> + +<p>The Major, on his part, could only trust that his unexpected visit +would not be allowed to mar for one moment Mrs. Basket's enjoyment of +<i>Love Between Decks</i>. On that condition only could he feel that he +had not unwarrantably intruded; on those terms only that he was being +treated in sincerity as an old friend. "I am an old campaigner, +madam. Permit me, using an old friend's liberty, to congratulate you +on the flavour of this boiled mutton."</p> + +<p>In short, the Major showed himself the most complaisant of guests. +At dessert, observing that Mr. Basket's eye began to wander towards +the clock on the mantelpiece, he leapt up, protesting that he should +never forgive himself if, through him, his friends missed a single +line of <i>Love Between Decks</i>.</p> + +<p>Mr. Basket rose to his feet, with a half-regretful glance at the +undepleted decanter.</p> + +<p>"To-morrow night," said he, "we will treat old friendship more +piously. Believe me, Hymen, if it weren't for the seats being +reserved—"</p> + +<p>"My dear fellow," the Major assured him, with a challenging smile for +Mrs. Basket, "if you don't come back and tell me you've forgotten for +three hours my very existence, I shall pack my valise and tramp off +to an inn."</p> + +<p>Having dismissed the worthy couple to the theatre—but a couple of +streets distant—the Major retired with glass and decanter to his +room, drank his quantum, smoked two pipes of tobacco very leisurably, +and then, with a long sigh, drew up his chair to the table (which +Mrs. Basket had set out with writing materials) and penned, with many +pauses for consideration, the following letter; which, when the +reader has perused it, will sufficiently explain why our hero had +blushed a while ago under Mr. Basket's interrogatory.</p> + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class = "noindent"> "My dear Martha,—'Sweet,' says our premier poet, 'are the uses + of adversity.' The indignity (I will call it no less) to which + my fellow-townsmen by their folly, and Sir Felix by his perfidy, + have recently subjected me, is not without its compensations. + On the one hand it has disillusioned me; on the other it has + removed the scales from my eyes. It has, indeed, inspired me + with a disgust of public life; it has taught me to think more + meanly of mankind as a whole. But while weaning my ambitions— + perhaps too abruptly—from a wider sphere, it has directed me + upon a happiness which has—dare I say it?—awaited me all the + while beside the hearth.<br><br> + + "Let me avow, dear cousin, that when first this happy inspiration + seized me, I had much ado—you know my promptitude of old—to + refrain from seeking you at once and pressing my suit with that + ardour which the warmth of my purpose dictated. On second + thoughts, however, I decided to spare your emotions that sudden + assault, and to make my demand in writing—in military phrase, + to summon the garrison in form.<br><br> + + "Your tender consideration of my comfort over a period of years + induces me to believe that a stronger claim on that + consideration for the future may not be a matter of indifference + to you. In short, I have the honour to offer you my hand, with + every assurance of a lifelong fidelity and esteem. The station + I ask you to adorn will be a private one. I am here to consult + a lawyer how best I may release from the consequences of their + folly the unfortunate men who betrayed me. This done, I lay + down my chain of office and resign my commission. I will not + deny that there are wounds; I look to domestic felicity to + provide a balm for them. Hansombody, no doubt, will succeed me; + and on the whole I am satisfied that he will passably fill an + office which, between ourselves, he has for some time expected. + I hope to return the day after to-morrow, and to receive the + blushing answer on which I have set my heart.—Believe me, dear + Coz, your affectionate<br><br> +<span class = "ind15"> "Sol. Hymen."</span></p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + +<p>Cynics tell us that one-half of the proposals of marriage made by men +are the direct result of pique. How closely this proposal of the +Major's coincided with the recoil of his public humiliation I do not +pretend to determine. Certain it is that he had no sooner written +and sealed his letter than the shadow of a doubt began to creep over +his hot fit.</p> + +<p>He started up, lit his long pipe, and fell to pacing the room with +agitated strides. Was he doing wisely? Matrimony, he had sometimes +told his friends, is like a dip in the sea; the wise man takes it at +a plunge, head first. Yes, yes; but had he given it quite sufficient +reflection? Could he promise himself he would never regret? He was +not doubting that Miss Marty would make him an excellent wife. +Admirable creature, she bore every test he could apply. She was +gentle, companionable, intelligent in converse, yet never forward in +giving an opinion; too studious, rather, to efface herself; in +household management economical without being penurious; a notable +cook and needlewoman; in person by no means uncomely, and in mind as +well as person so scrupulously neat that her unobtrusive presence, +her noiseless circumspect flittings from room to room, exhaled an +atmosphere of daintiness in which it was good to dwell. No, he had +no anxiety about Miss Marty. But could he be sure of himself? +Had he really and truly and for ever put the ambitions of public life +behind him? Might they not some day re-awaken as this present wound +healed and ceased to smart?</p> + +<p>If he sent this letter, he had burnt his boats. He halted before the +table and stood for a while considering; stood there so long that his +pipe went out unheeded. Ought he not to re-write his proposal and +word it so as to leave himself a loophole? As he conned the name on +the address, by some trick of memory he found himself repeating Miss +Marty's own protest against the Millennium: "Why couldn't we be let +alone, to go on comfortably?"</p> + +<p>Confound the Millennium! Was it at the bottom of this too? +The plaguy thing had a knack of intruding itself, just now, into all +he undertook, and always mischievously. It was unsettling—Miss +Marty's word again—infernally unsettling. He had begun to lose +confidence in himself.</p> + +<p>The room was hot. He stepped to the window, flung it open, and drank +in the cool air of the summer night. Below him lay the garden, +wherein Mr. Basket's statuary showed here and there a glimmer in the +velvet darkness. The Major turned back to the room and began to +undress slowly; removing his wig, his coat, his waistcoat, and laying +them on a chair. Next he turned out his breeches pockets and tossed +his purse, with a handful of loose silver, upon the bed. With it +there jingled the spare latchkey with which Mrs. Basket had entrusted +him.</p> + +<p>He picked it up.… Yes, why should he not take a turn in the +garden to compose his mind? In his present agitation he was not +likely to woo slumber with success.… He slipped on his coat +again and descended the stairs, latchkey in hand. A lamp burned in +the hall, and by the light of it he read the hour on the dial of a +grandfather's clock that stood sentry beside the dining-room door— +five-and-twenty minutes past ten. The Baskets would not be returning +for another hour at least. He unlatched the front door, stepped out, +and closed it softly behind him.</p> + +<p>Now mark how simply—how, with a short laugh—by the crook of a +little finger, as it were—the envious gods topple down the tallest +human pride.</p> + +<p>The Major descended the front steps, halted for a moment to peer at a +statuette of Hercules resting on his club, and passed on down the +central path of the garden with a smile for his worthy friend's +foible. A dozen paces, and his toe encountered the rim of Mr. +Basket's fish-pond.…</p> + +<p>The Major went into Mr. Basket's fish-pond souse!—on all fours, +precipitately, with hands wildly clawing the water amid the +astonished goldfish.</p> + +<p>The echo of the splash had hardly lost itself in the dark +garden-alleys before he scrambled up, coughing and sputtering, and +struggling to shore rubbed the water from his eyes. Now the basin +had not been cleaned out for some months, and beneath the water, +which did not exceed a foot and a half in depth, there lay a good two +inches of slime and weed, some portion of which his knuckles were +effectively transferring to his face. He had lost a shoe. +Worse than this, as he stood up, shook the water out of his breeches +and turned to escape back to the house, it dawned on him that he had +lost the latchkey!</p> + +<p>He had been carrying it in his hand at the moment of the catastrophe. +… He sat down on the pebbled path beside the basin, flung +himself upon his stomach and, leaning over the brink as far as he +dared, began to grope in the mud. After some minutes he recovered +his shoe, but by and by was forced to abandon the search for the key +as hopeless. He had no lantern.…</p> + +<p>He cast an appealing glance up at the light in his bedroom window. +His gaze travelled down to the fanlight over the front door. And +with that the dreadful truth broke on him. Without the latchkey he +could not possibly re-enter the house.</p> + +<p>He unlaced and drew on his sodden shoe, and sat for a while +considering. Should he wait here in this dreadful plight until his +hosts returned? Or might he not run down to the theatre (which lay +but two short streets away), explain the accident to a doorkeeper, +and get a message conveyed to Mr. Basket? Yes, this was clearly the +wiser course. The streets—thank Heaven!—were dark.</p> + +<p>He crept to the front gate and peered forth. The roadway was +deserted. Taking his courage in both hands, he stepped out upon the +pavement and walked briskly downhill to the theatre. The distance +was a matter of five or six hundred yards only, and he met nobody. +Coming in sight of the brightly-lit portico, he made a dash for it +and up the steps, where he blundered full tilt into the arms of a +tall doorkeeper at the gallery entrance.</p> + +<p>"Hallo!" exclaimed the man, falling back. "Get out of this!"</p> + +<p>"One moment, my friend—"</p> + +<p>"Damme!" The doorkeeper, blocking the entrance, surveyed him and +whistled. "Hi, Charley!" he called; "come and take a look at this!"</p> + +<p>A scrag-necked youth thrust his face forward from the aperture of the +ticket-office.</p> + +<p>"Well, I'm jiggered," was his comment. "Drunk, eh? Throw him out!" + +"If you'll listen for a moment," pleaded the Major, with dignity, and +began to search in the pockets of his sodden breeches. "I wish a +message taken… but dear me, now I remember, I left my money +upstairs!"</p> + +<p>"<i>On</i> the gilded dressing-table beside the diamond tiyara," suggested +the doorkeeper. "Or maybe you cast it down, careless, on the moonlit +shore afore taking your dip!"</p> + +<p>"My good man, I assure you that I am the victim of an accident. +It so happens that, by a singular chain of mischance, I have not at +this moment a penny about me. But if you will go to the reserved row +of the pit and fetch out my friend Mr. Basket—"</p> + +<p>At this point the Major felt a hand clapped on his shoulder, and +turning, was aware of two sailors, belted and wearing cutlasses, who, +having lurched up the steps arm-in-arm, stood to gaze, surveying him +with a frank interest.</p> + +<p>"What's wrong, eh?" demanded the one who had saluted him, and turned +to his comrade, a sallow-faced man with a Newgate fringe of a beard. +"Good Lord, Bill, what is it like?"</p> + +<p>"It <i>looks</i> like a wreck ashore," answered the sallow-faced sailor +after a slow inspection.</p> + +<p>"Talk about bein' fond of the theayter! He must have <i>swum</i> for it," +said the other, and stared at the Major round-eyed. "You'll excuse +me; Ben Jope, my name is, bos'n of the <i>Vesuvius</i> bomb; and this +here's my friend Bill Adams, bos'n's mate. <i>As</i> I was sayin', you'll +excuse me, but you must be fond of it—a man of your age—by the +little you make of appearances."</p> + +<p>"I was just explaining," stammered the Major, "that although, most +unfortunately, I have left my purse at home—"</p> + +<p>But here he paused as Mr. Jope looked at Mr. Adams, and Mr. Adams +answered with a slow and thoughtful wink.</p> + +<p>"Go where you will," said Mr. Jope cheerfully, stepping to the +ticket-office; "go where you will, and sail the high seas over, 'tis +wonderful how you run across that excuse. Three tickets for the +gallery, please; and you, Bill, fall alongside!" He linked an arm in +the Major's, who feebly resisted.</p> + +<p>"Lord love ye!" said Mr. Jope, "the lie's an old one; but a man that +played up to it better in appearances I never see'd nor smelt!"</p> + + +<br> +<br> +<p><a name="14"></a> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XIII.</h3> +<br> + +<h4>A VERY HOT PRESS.</h4> + +<p>The performance of <i>Love Between Decks</i> had reached its famous fourth +act, in which Tom Taffrail, to protect his sweetheart (who has +followed him to sea in man's attire), strikes the infamous First +Lieutenant and is marched off between two marines for punishment. +This scene, as everyone knows, is laid on the upper deck of his +Majesty's ship <i>Poseidon</i> (of seventy-four guns), and the management, +as a condition of engaging Mr. Orlando B. Sturge (who was exacting in +details), had mounted it, at great expense, with a couple of lifelike +guns, R. and L., and for background the overhang of the quarter-deck, +with rails and a mizzen-mast of real timber against a painted cloth +representing the rise of the poop.</p> + +<p>At the moment when our Major entered the gallery, the heated +atmosphere of which well nigh robbed him of breath, Tom Taffrail had +taken up his position on the prompt side, close down by the +footlights, and thrown himself into attitude to deliver the speech of +manly defiance which provokes the Wicked Lieutenant to descend into +the waist of the ship and receive the well-merited weight of the +hero's fist. The hero, with one foot planted on a coil of real rope +and one arm supporting the half-inanimate form of his Susan, in +deference to stage convention faced the audience, while with his +other arm uplifted he invoked vengeance upon the oppressor, who +scowled down from the quarterdeck rail.</p> + +<p>"Hear me, kyind Heaven!" declaimed Tom Taffrail, "for Heaven at least +is my witness, that beneath the tar-stained shirt of a British sailor +there may beat the heart of a <i>Man</i>!"—</p> + +<p>As a matter of fact, Mr. Sturge was clothed in a clean blue and white +striped shirt, with socks to match, white duck trousers no less +immaculate, with a huge glittering brass buckle on the front of his +belt, two buckles of smaller size but similar pattern on his polished +dancing shoes, and wore his hair in a natty pigtail tied with +cherry-coloured ribbon.</p> + +<p>—"Hear and judge betwixt me and yonder tyrant! Let the storm off +Pernambuco declare who first sprang to the foretop and thence aloft +to strike t'gallant yards while the good ship <i>Poseidon</i> careened +before its hurricane rage! Ay, and when the main topm'st went +smack-smooth by the board, who was it slid like lightning to the deck +and, with hands yet glowing from the halliards, plucked forth axe and +hewed the wreckage clear? But a truce to these reminders! 'Twas my +duty, and, as a seaman, I did it!"</p> + +<p>Here, having laid his tender burden so that her back rested against +the coil of real rope, Mr. Sturge executed the opening steps of a +hornpipe, and advancing to the footlights, stood swaying with crossed +arms while the orchestra performed the prelude to his most celebrated +song.</p> + +<p>At this point Mr. Jope, who for some seconds had been breathing hard +at the back of the Major's neck, clutched his comrade by the arm.</p> + +<p>"You 'eard that, Bill?" he asked in a hoarse whisper.</p> + +<p>"Ay," answered Bill Adams. "He slipped down from the t'gallant yards +by the halliards."</p> + +<p>"Would ye mind pinchin' me?"</p> + +<p>"Where?"</p> + +<p>"Anywhere; in the fleshy part of the ham for choice; not too +vigorous, but just to make sure. He come down by the halliards. +<i>Which</i> halliards?"</p> + +<p>"Signal halliards, belike. Damme, why not? Aboard a vessel with the +decks laid ath'artships—"</p> + +<p>"An' the maintopm'st went smack-smooth—you <i>'eard</i> him? What sort +o' spar—"</p> + +<p>"Dunno"—Bill paused and audibly shifted his quid—"unless 'twas a +parsnip. The mizz'n-m'st seems to have stood it, though her stays +<i>do</i> lead to a brass-headed nail in the scuppers."</p> + +<p>"In a gale off Pernambuco… 'twas his duty, and as a seaman he +did it," quoted Mr. Jope in a low voice thrilled with awe. "Bill, we +must 'ave him. If he did but 'alf of it, we must 'ave him. In them +togs, aboard the <i>Vesuvius</i> now… Lord love me, he's dancin'!"</p> + +<p>"Ay, and he's going to sing."</p> + +<p>"<i>Sing!</i>"</p> + +<p>"Mark my word, he's going to sing," repeated Bill Adams with +confidence; and, sure enough, Mr. Sturge stepped forward and with a +reproachful glance at the empty Royal box uplifted his voice:</p> + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class = "noindent"> "When honest Jack across the foam<br> +<span class = "ind2"> Puts forth to meet the Gallic foe,</span><br> + His tributary tear for home<br> +<span class = "ind2"> He wipes away with a Yow-heave-ho!</span><br> +<span class = "ind5"> Man the braces,<br> + Take your places,</span><br> + Fill the tot and push the can;<br> +<span class = "ind5"> He's a lubber<br> + That would blubber</span><br> + When Britannia needs a <i>Man</i>!"</p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + +<p>"S'help us, Bill, what are they doing <i>now</i>?" gasped Ben Jope, as two +groups of seamen, one at either wing, took up the chorus; tailing on +to a cable and heaving while they sang.</p> + +<p>"Fishin' the anchor," said Bill pensively; "<i>that's</i> what they're +doin'. She carries her catheads amidships. The ship's all right, +once you get the hang of her."</p> + +<p>"Bill, we <i>must</i> 'ave him!"</p> + +<p>"Hush it, you swab! He's beginning again."</p> + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class = "noindent"> "But when among the heaving clouds,<br> +<span class = "ind2"> Aloft, alone, with folded arms,</span><br> + He hangs <i>her</i> portrait in the shrouds<br> +<span class = "ind2"> And feeds on Susan's glowing charms,</span><br> +<span class = "ind5"> To th' horizon<br> + Soft his sighs on</span><br> + Angel wings the zephyrs fan,<br> +<span class = "ind5"> While his feelings,<br> + Deep revealings,</span><br> + Prove that Jack remains a <i>Man</i>!"</p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + +<p>"'Ear that, Bill?"</p> + +<p>"O' course I 'ears it. Why not? I <i>knew</i> there was something funny +wi' them shrouds. They carries the family portraits on 'em—it's all +right, I tell you."</p> + +<p>"But 'feeds,' he said."</p> + +<p>"Meanin' the picter; though maybe they sling the meat-safe there as +well. They <i>ought</i> to."</p> + +<p>"They <i>couldn't</i>!"</p> + +<p>"Why not? Well, then, p'raps they strikes it now and then <i>in</i> a +gale—off Pernambuco—along wi' the t'gallant yards. Stow yer talk, +Ben Jope, and let a man listen."</p> + +<p>The audience encored Mr. Sturge's song vociferously; and twice he had +to repeat it before they would suffer him to turn again and defy the +still scowling Lieutenant.</p> + +<p>"Ay, sir; the British seaman, before whose collective valour the +crowned tyrants of Yurope shrink with diminished heads, dares to +proclaim himself a <i>Man</i>, and in despite of any petty tyrant of the +quarter-deck. Humble his lot, his station, may be. Callous he +himself may be to the thund'ring of the elements or the guns of his +country's foemen; but never will he be found irresponsive to female +distress in any shape or form. Leftenant Vandeloor, you have +upraised your hand against A Woman; you have struck her a Blow. +In your teeth I defy you!" (Frantic applause.)</p> + +<p>"My word, Bill, the Duke ought to been here to 'ear that!"</p> + +<p>"But why isn't he here?" asked the Major.</p> + +<p>"Well," answered Ben Jope slowly, with a glance along the crowded +gallery and a wink at Bill Adams (but the Major saw neither the +glance nor the wink), "to-night, d'ye see, 'twouldn't ha' been +altogether the thing. He's not like you and me, the Duke isn't. +He has to study appearances."</p> + +<p>"I should have thought that, if his Royal Highness studied +popularity, he could scarcely have found a better occasion."</p> + +<p>"Look here," put in Mr. Jope sharply, "if the Duke chooses to be +drunk to-night, you may lay to it he knows his business. And look +here again; I took you for a victim o' misfortun', but if so be as +you're startin' to teach the R'yal family tact, w'y, I changes my +opinion."</p> + +<p>"If I could only find my friend Basket, or get a message taken to +him," ingeminated the Major, whose teeth were chattering despite the +tropical atmosphere of the gallery.</p> + +<p>"Eh? What's that you're sayin'?" the seaman demanded in a sudden +sharp tone of suspicion. "If there's a friend o' your'n in the +gallery, you keep by me and point him out when the time comes. +I ain't a-makin' no promise, mind; no more than to say it may be the +better for him; but contrariwise I don't allow no messages, and you +may belay to that!"</p> + +<p>"But my friend is not in the gallery. He has a reserved seat +somewhere."</p> + +<p>"Then you may take it he don't <i>require</i> no message, bein' toler'bly +safe. As for yourself, you stick to me. Understand? Whatever +happens, you stick to me."</p> + +<p>The Major did not understand in the least; but their conversation at +this moment was interrupted by a roar of applause from all quarters +of the house as Tom Taffrail, with a realistic blow from the +shoulder, laid his persecutor prostrate on the deck.</p> + +<p>"Brayvo!" grunted Bill Adams. "The lad's nimble enough with his +fives, I will say, for all his sea-lawyerin'."</p> + +<p>"We must 'ave him, Bill; if I take him myself we must 'ave him!" +cried Ben Jope, dancing with admiration. '"Tis no more than a mercy, +neither, after the trouble he's been and laid up for hisself."</p> + +<p>Into what precise degree of mental confusion Mr. Jope had worked +himself the Major could never afterwards determine; though he soon +had every opportunity to think it out at leisure.</p> + +<p>For the moment, as a boatswain's whistle shrilled close behind his +ear, he was merely bewildered. He did not even know that the mouth +sounding it was Mr. Jope's. It <i>ought</i> to have sounded on board +H.M.S. <i>Poseidon</i>.</p> + +<p>As the crowd to right and left of him surged to its feet, he saw at +intervals along the gallery, sailor after sailor leap up with drawn +cutlass. He saw some forcing their way to the exits; and as the +packed throng, swaying backwards, bore him to the giddy edge of the +gallery rails, he saw the whole audience rise from their seats with +white upturned faces.</p> + +<p>"The Press!" called someone. Half a dozen, then twenty, then a +hundred voices took up the cry:</p> + +<p>"The Press! The Press!"</p> + +<p>He turned. What had become of Mr. Jope?</p> + +<p>What, indeed? Cutlass between teeth, Mr. Jope had heaved himself +over the gallery rail, caught a pillar between his dangling feet, and +slid down it to the Upper Circle; from the Upper Circle to the Dress +Circle; from the Dress Circle to the Pit. A dozen seamen hurrahed +and followed him. To the audience screaming, scattering before them, +they paid no heed at all. Their eyes were on their leader, and in +silence, breathing hard, each man's teeth clenched upon his cutlass, +they hounded after him and across the Pit at his heels.</p> + +<p>It may be that this vivid reproduction of his alleged exploit off +Pernambuco for the moment held Mr. Orlando B. Sturge paralysed. +At any rate, he stood by the footlights staring, with a face on which +resentment faded into amaze, amaze into stupefaction.</p> + +<p>It is improbable that he dreamed of any personal danger until the +moment when Mr. Jope, leaping the orchestra and crashing, on his way, +through an abandoned violoncello, landed across the footlights and +clapped him on the shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Never you mind, lad!" cried Mr. Jope cheerfully, taking the cutlass +from between his teeth and waving it. "You'll get better treatment +along o' we."</p> + +<p>"What mean you? Unhand me—Off, I say, minion!"</p> + +<p>"It'll blow over, lad; it'll blow over. You take my advice and come +quiet—Oh, but we <i>want</i> you!—an' if you hear another word about +this evening's work I'll forfeit my mess."</p> + +<p>"Hands off, ruffian! Help, I say, there—Help!"</p> + +<p>"Shame! Shame!" cried a dozen voices. But nine-tenths of the +audience were already pressing around the doors to escape.</p> + +<p>At a nod from Mr. Jope, two seamen ran and cut the cords supporting +the drop-scene.</p> + +<p>"Heads, there! Heads!"</p> + +<p>The great roller fell upon the stage with a resounding bang.</p> + +<br><p> +With the thud of it, a hand descended and smote upon the Major's +shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Come along o' me. <i>You'll</i> give no trouble, anyway."</p> + +<p>"Eh?" said the Major. "My good man, I assure you that I have not the +slightest disposition to interfere. These scenes are regrettable, of +course. I have heard of them, but never actually assisted at one +before; still, I quite see the necessity of the realm demands it, and +the realm's necessity is—or should be—the supreme law with all of +us."</p> + +<p>"And you can <i>swim</i>. You'd be surprised, now, how few of 'em could +take a stroke to save their lives. Leastways," Mr. Adams confessed, +"that's <i>my</i> experience."</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon."</p> + +<p>"Ben's impulsive. I over'eard him tellin' you to stick fast to him; +but, all things considered, that's pretty difficult, ain't it? +Never you mind; <i>I'll</i> see you aboard the tender."</p> + +<p>"Aboard the tender?"</p> + +<p>The Major stepped back a pace as the fellow's absurd mistake dawned +on him. "Why, you impudent scoundrel, I'm a Justice of the Peace!"</p> + +<p>But here a rush of the driven crowd lifted and bore him against the +gallery rail. A hand close by shattered the nearest lamp into +darkness, and the flat of a cutlass (not Bill Adams's) descending +upon our hero's head, put an end for the while to speech and +consciousness.</p> + + +<br> +<br> +<p><a name="15"></a> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XIV.</h3> +<br> + +<h4>THE "VESUVIUS" BOMB.</h4> + +<p>He awoke with a racking headache in pitchy darkness; and with the +twilight of returning consciousness there grew in him an awful fear +that he had been coffined and buried alive. For he lay at full +length in a bed which yet was unlike any bed of his acquaintance, +being so narrow that he could neither turn his body nor put out an +arm to lift himself into a sitting posture; and again, when he tried +to move his legs, to his horror they were compressed as if between +bandages. In his ear there sounded, not six inches away, a low +lugubrious moaning. It could not come from a bed-fellow, for he had +no bed-fellow.… No, it could be no earthly sound.</p> + +<p>With a strangled cry he flung a hand upwards, fending off the +horrible darkness. It struck against a board, and at the same +instant his cry was echoed by a sharp scream close beside him.</p> + +<p>"Angels and ministers of Gerrace defend us!" The scream sank to a +hoarse whisper and was accompanied by a clank of chains. "Not dead? +You—you are not dead?"</p> + +<p>The Major lay back in a cold sweat. "I—I thought I was," he +quavered at length. But at this point his mysterious bed seemed to +sway for a moment beneath him, and he caught his breath. "Where am +I?" he gasped.</p> + +<p>"At sea," answered the voice in a hollow tone.</p> + +<p>"At sea!" In a sudden spasmodic attempt to sit upright, the Major +almost rolled himself out of his hammock.</p> + +<p>"Ay, poor comrade—if you are indeed he whom I saw lifted aboard +unconscious from the tender—'tis the dismal truth."</p> + + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class = "noindent"> "Beneath the Orlop's darksome shade<br> +<span class = "ind2"> Unknown to Sol's bright ray,</span><br> + Where no kind chink's assistant aid<br> +<span class = "ind2"> Admits the cheerful day.</span></p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + + +<p>"I am not, in the practical sense, seaman enough to determine if this +noisome den be the precise part of the ship alluded to by the poet +under the name of Orlop. But the circumstances correspond; and my +stomach informs me that the vessel is in motion."</p> + +<p>"The vessel?" echoed the Major, incredulous yet. "<i>What</i> vessel?"</p> + +<p>"As if to omit no detail of horror, she is called, I believe, the +<i>Vesuvius</i> bomb. Phoebus, what a name!"</p> + +<p>It drummed for some seconds in the Major's ear like an echo.</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes… the theatre," he murmured.</p> + +<p>"The theatre? You were in the theatre? Then you saw <i>me</i>?"</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon."</p> + +<p>"<i>Me</i>—Orlando B. Sturge. Yes, sir, if it be any consolation to you, +know that I, Orlando B. Sturge, of the Theatre Royal, Covent Garden, +am your temporary partner in adversity, your co-mate and brother in +exile, with the added indignity of handcuffs; and all by an error +which would be absurd if it weren't so infernally serious."</p> + +<p>"There has been some horrible mistake."</p> + +<p>"A mistake, sir, for which these caitiffs shall pay dearly," +Mr. Sturge promised in his deepest tragedy voice.</p> + +<p>"A Justice of the Peace!"</p> + +<p>"Eh?"</p> + +<p>"With a Major's commission!"</p> + +<p>"Pardon, I think you must be confusing me with some other person. +Orlando B. Sturge is my name, sir, and familiar—as I may say without +vanity—wherever the Thespian art is honoured. But yesterday the +darling of the public; and now, in the words of our national bard:"</p> + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class = "noindent"> +<span class = "ind7"> "'—Now lies he here,</span><br> + And none so poor to do him reverence.'</p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + + +<p>"You are familiar with the works of Shakespeare, sir? Your speech, if +you will allow me to say so, suggests a respectable education."</p> + +<p>"I have dipped into them," answered the Major inattentively, absorbed +in his own woes.</p> + +<p>"My consolation is, this will get into the newspapers; and then let +these ignorant ruffians beware!"</p> + +<p>"The newspapers! God forbid!" The Major shuddered.</p> + +<p>"Ha?" Mr. Sturge drew back in dark surprise. "'Tis the language of +delirium. He raves. What ho, without there!" he called aloud.</p> + +<p>"What the devil's up?" responded a voice from the darkness behind the +Major's head. It belonged to a marine standing sentry outside a +spare sail which shut off the <i>Vesuvius's</i> sick bay from the rest of +the lower deck.</p> + +<p>"A surgeon, quick! Here's a man awake and delirious."</p> + +<p>"All right. You needn't kick up such a row, need you?" growled the +marine.</p> + +<p>"Like Nero, I am an angler in a lake of darkness. You have +handcuffed me, moreover, so that even if this accursed sty contains a +bell-rope—which is improbable—I am debarred from using it. +A light, there, and a surgeon, I say!"</p> + +<p>The marine let fall the sail flap and withdrew, grumbling. +But apparently Mr. Sturge's mode of giving an order, being unlike +anything in his experience, had impressed him; for by and by a faint +ray illumined the dirty whitewashed beams over the Major's hammock, +and four persons squeezed themselves into the sick bay—the marine +holding a lantern and guiding the ship's surgeon, who was followed in +turn by our friends Mr. Jope and Mr. Bill Adams.</p> + +<p>The <i>Vesuvius</i> bomb, measuring but a little more than ninety feet +over all, with a beam of some twenty-seven feet, and carrying seventy +odd men and boys, with six long six-pounder guns and a couple of +heavy mortars, could spare but scanty room for hospital +accommodation. At a pinch, a dozen hammocks could be slung in the +den which the marine's lantern revealed; but how a dozen sick men +could recover there, and how the surgeon could move between the +hammocks to perform his ministrations, were mysteries happily left +unsolved. As it was, the two invalids and their visitors crowded the +place to suffocation.</p> + +<p>"Delirious, you say?" hemmed the surgeon, a bald little man with a +twinkling eye, an unshaven chin and a very greasy shirt frill. +"Well, well, give me your pulse, my friend. Better a blister on the +neck than a round shot at your feet, hey? I near upon gave you up +when they brought you aboard—upon my word I did." The Major +groaned. "You seemed a humane man, sir," he answered feebly. +"Spare me your blisters and get me put ashore, for pity's sake!"</p> + +<p>The doctor shook his head. "My good fellow, we weighed an hour ago +with a fresh northerly breeze. I haven't been on deck, but by the +cant of her we must be clear of the Sound already and hauling up for +Portsmouth."</p> + +<p>"On your peril you detain me, sir! I'll have your fool of a captain +broken for this—cashiered, sir—kicked out of the service, by +Heaven! I am a Justice of the Peace, I tell you!"</p> + +<p>"And <i>coram</i>," put in Mr. Sturge, "and <i>custalorum</i>. He'll make a +Star-Chamber matter of it.… The poor fellow's raving, I tell +you. A curse on your inhumanity! But I can wait for my revenge at +Portsmouth. Approach, fellows, and knock off those gyves."</p> + +<p>"Justice of the Peace!" echoed Ben Jope, paying no attention whatever +to Mr. Sturge, but turning on Bill Adams with round, wondering eyes. +"I <i>told</i> you he was something out o' the common. And you ain't had +no more sense than to knock him over the head with a cutlass!"</p> + +<p>"I did not," protested Bill Adams. "He took it accidental, you being +otherwise engaged; an' I stuck to the creatur', thinkin' as how you +<i>wanted</i> him."</p> + +<p>"But <i>why</i> should I want him?"</p> + +<p>"Damned if I know. If it comes to that"—Bill Adams jerked a thumb +towards the hammock containing Mr. Sturge—"what d'ye want <i>him</i> +for?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, <i>him</i>?" answered Mr. Jope with a grin. "In a gale off +Pernambuco—"</p> + +<p>"What on earth are you two talking about?" asked the surgeon, who had +seated himself on the deck and, with the lantern between his feet, +was busily preparing a blister.</p> + +<p>"Beggin' your pardon, sir, but you haven't been on deck yet? +You haven't <i>seen</i> the ducks we brought aboard last night?"</p> + +<p>"My good man, can I be in two places at once? I have been up all +night with Mr. Wapshott, and the devil of a time he's given me. +When they brought me this poor fellow, I hadn't time to do more than +order him into hammock—indeed I hadn't. Now, then"—he stood on his +feet again and addressed the marine—"fetch me a basin of water and +I'll bathe his head."</p> + +<p>"Is Mr. Wapshott bad, sir?" asked Ben Jope.</p> + +<p>"H'm," the surgeon hesitated. "Well, I don't mind admitting to you +that he was very bad indeed; but about six bells I got a draught to +take effect, and he has been sleeping ever since."</p> + +<p>"And you didn't see the Captain brought aboard, sir?"</p> + +<p>"I did not. 'Brought,' you say?"</p> + +<p>Ben Jope nodded his head, and for a moment or two watched in silence +the sponging of our Major's scalp. "I've known this here ship in the +variousest kinds o' weathers," he announced at length, with quiet +conviction, "but they was fool's-play one and all compared with +what's ahead of us."</p> + +<p>"If it comes to that again," put in Bill Adams, "I don't see but this +here Justice o' the Peace is the plum o' the whole bunch. Maybe"—he +turned to his friend—"you ain't never seen a Justice o' the Peace? +I hev'."</p> + +<p>"W'y," asked Ben Jope, "what's there peculiar about 'em?"</p> + +<p>"I got committed by one some years ago," Mr. Adams answered, with a +grave effort of memory. "At a place called Farnham, it was, a way +inland up the Portsmouth Road. Me and the landlord of a public there +came to words, by reason he called his house 'The Admiral Howe,' but +on his signboard was the face of a different man altogether. Whereby +I asked him why he done so. Whereby he said the painter didn't know +How. Whereby I knocked him down, and he called in the constables and +swore he'd meant it for a joke; and they took me afore a Justice; and +the Justice said he wouldn't yield to nobody in his respect for our +Navy, but here was a case he must put his foot down, and if necessary +with an iron hand; and gave me seven days. Which I mention because I +couldn't pay the fine, having no more than a few coppers besides what +I stood up in, and was then on my way home from the wreck of the +<i>Duck Sammy</i> brig, which went ashore on the back of the Wight. +But if you ask me what was peculiar about the man, he was called +Bart.—Sir Samuel Brooks Bart.—and lived in a fine house as big as +Greenwich Hospital, with a gold watch-chain across his belly you +could have moored a pinnace by, and gold in his pockets +correspondin'. Whereby I larned ever since to know my betters when +ashore, and behave myself lowly and give 'em a wide berth. But this +isn't one, nor the beginnings of one, for I took the liberty to +s'arch his pockets."</p> + +<p>"Indeed, sir," our hero appealed to the surgeon, "my name is Hymen— +Major Solomon Hymen—of Troy, in Cornwall. On inquiry you will find +that I am actually Chief Magistrate of that borough. Nay, I implore +you—"</p> + +<p>The surgeon, having bathed the wound and bound it with three strips +of plaster, took up the blister, and was on the point of applying it, +using persuasions indeed, but with the air of one who would take no +denial, when a terrible outcry at once arrested him and drowned the +Major's protestations.</p> + +<p>The cry—it sounded like the roar of a wounded bull—came from the +deck overhead. Its echoes sounded the very bowels of the ship; but +at the first note of it Ben Jope had clutched Bill Adams by the arm.</p> + +<p>"He's seen 'em!" he gasped. "Run, doctor, run—there's a dear soul— +or he'll be doin' murder!"</p> + +<p>"Seen what?"</p> + +<p>"Run, I tell you! Come!" Suiting the action to the word, Mr. Jope, +still gripping his comrade's arm, rushed him out of the sick bay, the +doctor and the marine at their heels. In the excitement, the Major +tumbled out of his hammock, tore aside the sail-flap, and staggered +after them along the dim and empty lower-deck to a ladder which led +up to daylight.</p> + +<p>How to describe the spectacle which met his dazzled eyes as he thrust +his head above the hatchway? Aloft the <i>Vesuvius</i> spread her full +sails in cloud upon cloud of dove-coloured grey (for, in fact, she +carried very dingy canvas) against the blue of heaven, and reached +along with the northerly breeze on her larboard quarter, heeling +gently, yet just low enough for the Major to blink as his gaze, +travelling beyond the lee bulwarks, caught the dazzle of foam knocked +up and spreading off her blunt bows. But not long did he gaze on +this; for in the scuppers under the bulwarks, in every attitude of +complete woe, some prostrate, some supine, all depicted with the +liveliest yellows and greens of seasickness beneath their theatrical +paint, lay the crew of H.M.S. <i>Poseidon</i>. Yes, even the wicked +Lieutenant reclined there with the rest, with one hand upraised and +grasping a ring-bolt, while the soft sway of the ship now lifted his +garish tinselled epaulettes into the sunlight, now sank and drew +across them, as upon a dial, the edge of the bulwarks' shadow.</p> + +<p>Right above this disconsolate group, and almost right above the +Major's head as he thrust it through the hatchway—or, to be more +precise, at the head of the ladder leading to the <i>Vesuvius's</i> poop— +clung a little wry-necked, red-eyed, white-faced man in dishevelled +uniform, and capered in impotent fury. But as when a child is +chastised he yells once and there follows a pause of many seconds +while he gathers up lung and larynx for the prolonged outcry, so +after his first bull-roar Captain Crang, of the <i>Vesuvius</i> bomb, +clung to the rail of the poop-ladder and wrestled for speech, while a +little forward of the waist his crew huddled before the storm, yet +(although the Major failed to perceive this) not without exchanging +winks.</p> + +<p>"Wha—<i>what</i>? In the name of ten thousand devils, what the '—' is +<i>that</i>?" yelled the Captain, and choked again.</p> + +<p>"<i>In</i> a gale—<i>off</i> Pernambuco," murmured Mr. Jope. "Steady, Bill; +steady does it, mind!" Advancing to the foot of the ladder, he +touched his forelock and stood at attention. "Pressed men, sir. +Found in the theayter and brought aboard, as <i>per</i> special order."</p> + +<p>The Captain's throat could be seen working within his disordered +cravat. "Them! But—Oh, help me—look at 'em, Bos'n!"</p> + +<p>"Sir!"</p> + +<p>"Look at' em!"</p> + +<p>"It's not for me to object, sir. As you was sayin', they don't look +it; but bein' ear-marked, so to speak—"</p> + +<p>"Where is Mr. Wapshott?"</p> + +<p>"Below, sir, as I understand," answered Mr. Jope demurely.</p> + +<p>"You mean to tell me, you '—' '—', that Mr. Wapshott allowed—"</p> + +<p>But just then, from a hatchway immediately behind Captain Crang, +there slowly emerged—there uprose—a vision whereat our Major was +not the only spectator to hold his breath. A shock of dishevelled +red hair, a lean lantern-jawed face, desperately pallid; these were +followed by a long crane-neck, and this again was continued by a pair +of shoulders of such endless declivity as surely was never seen but +in dreams. And still, as the genie from the fisherman's bottle, the +apparition evolved itself and ascended, nor ceased growing until it +overlooked the Captain's shoulder by a good three-fourths of a yard, +when it put out two hands as if seeking support and stood swaying, +with a vague, uneasy smile.</p> + +<p>"D'ye hear me?" thundered the Captain, leaning forward over the +ladder.</p> + +<p>"Ay, ay, sir," Ben Jope answered cheerfully.</p> + +<p>"Then what the '—' are ye staring at, you son of a '—'? Like a +stuck pig, '—' you! Like a clock-face! Like a glass-eyed cat in a +'—' thunderstorm! Like a—"</p> + +<p>Here, as Captain Crang drew breath to reload, so to speak, a slight +yawing of the ship (for which the helmsman might be forgiven) brought +the tall shadow of the apparition athwart his shoulder, and fetched +him about with an oath.</p> + +<p>"Eh? So <i>there</i> you are!"</p> + +<p>Mr. Wapshott, still with his vague smile, titubated a moment, +advanced with a sort of circumspect dancing motion to the rail of the +poop, laid two shaking hands upon it, heaved a long sigh, and nodded +affably.</p> + +<p>"<i>Tha's</i> all right. Where else?"</p> + +<p>"Look there, sir!" Captain Crang wagged a forefinger at the crowd in +the scuppers. "I want your explanation of <i>that!</i>"</p> + +<p>Mr. Wapshott brought his gaze to bear on the point indicated; but not +until he had scanned successively the deck gratings, the rise of the +forecastle and the main shrouds.</p> + +<p>"Re-markable," he answered slowly. "Mos' remarkable. One funniest +things ever saw in my life. Wha's yours?"</p> + +<p>"My what, sir?"</p> + +<p>"Eggs. Eggs-planation. Mus' ask you, sir, be so good hear me out."</p> + +<p>"Good Lord!" With a sudden look of horror Captain Crang let go his +hold of the poop-ladder and staggered back against the bulwarks. +"You don't mean—you're not telling me—that <i>I</i> brought that +menagerie aboard last night!" His gaze wandered helplessly from the +first officer to the crew forward.</p> + +<p>"Now then, Bill, steady does it," whispered Mr. Jope, and saluted +again. "You'll excuse me, sir, but Mr. Wapshott was below last night +when we brought you aboard from dinin' with his R'yal Highness."</p> + +<p>"I remember nothing," groaned Captain Crang. "I never <i>do</i> remember +when—and before the Duke too!"</p> + +<p>Mr. Jope coughed. "His R'yal Highness, sir—if you'll let me say +so—was a bit like what you might call everyone else last night. +He shook hands very affectionate, sir, at parting, an' hoped to have +your company again before long."</p> + +<p>"Did he so? Did he so?" said Captain Crang. "And—er—could you at +the same time call to mind what I answered?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Jope looked down modestly. "Well, sir, having my hands full at +the time wi' this here little lot, I dunno as I can remember +precisely. Was it something about the theayter, Bill?" he demanded, +turning to Mr. Adams.</p> + +<p>"It wor," answered Mr. Adams sturdily.</p> + +<p>"And as how you'd never shipped a crew o' playactors afore, but you'd +do your best?"</p> + +<p>"Either them very words or to that effect," confirmed Mr. Adams, +breathing hard and staring defiantly at the horizon.</p> + +<p>"The theatre?… I was at the theatre?" Captain Crang passed a +shaking hand over his brow. "No, damme!… and yet I remember now +at dinner I heard the Duke say—"</p> + +<p>Here it was Captain Crang's turn to stare dumbfounded at an +apparition, as a pair of handcuffed wrists thrust themselves up +through the main hatchway and were painfully followed by the rest of +Mr. Orlando B. Sturge.</p> + +<p>"Oh, good Lord! Look! Is the ship full of 'em?" shouted the +Captain.</p> + +<p>"They ain't real," murmured Mr. Wapshott soothingly. "You'll get +accustomed. They began by being frogs," he explained, with the +initiatory air of an elder brother, and waved a feeble hand. "Eggs— +if you'll 'low me, sir, to conclude—egg-sisting in the 'magination +only. Go 'way—shoo!"</p> + +<p>But Mr. Sturge was not to be disembodied so easily. On the contrary, +as the vessel lurched, he sat down suddenly with a material thud and +clash of handcuffs upon the poultry-coop, nor was sooner haled to his +feet by the strong arm of Mr. Adams than he struck an attitude and +opened on the Captain in his finest baritone.</p> + +<p>"'Look,' say'st thou? Ay, then, look! Nay, gloat if thou wilt, +tyrant—miscreant shall I say?—in human form! Yielding, if I may +quote my friend here"—Mr. Sturge laid both handcuffed hands on the +shoulder of Bill Adams—"yielding to none, I say, in my admiration of +Britain's Navy, I hold myself free to protest against the lawlessness +of its minions. I say deliberately, sir, its minions. My name, sir, +is Orlando B. Sturge. If that conveys aught to such an intelligence +as yours, you will at once turn this vessel round and convey us back +to Plymouth with even more expedition than you brought us hither."</p> + +<p>Captain Crang fell back and caught at the mizzen shrouds.</p> + +<p>"Was I so bad as all that?" he stammered, as Ben Jope, believing him +attacked by apoplexy, rushed up the poop-ladder and bent over him.</p> + +<p>"Lor' bless you, sir," said Mr. Jope, "the best of us may be mistaken +at times. But as I've al'ays said, and will maintain, gentlemen will +be gentlemen."</p> + +<p>But Captain Crang, letting slip his grasp of the shrouds, plumped +down on deck in a sitting posture and with a sound like the echo of +his own name.</p> + + +<br> +<br> +<p><a name="16"></a> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XV.</h3> +<br> + +<h4>UP-CHANNEL.</h4> + + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class = "noindent"> "A wet sheet and a flowing sea,"</p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + +<p>(Sings Allan Cunningham),</p> + + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class = "noindent"> +<span class = "ind2"> "A wind that follows fast,</span><br> + And fills the white and rustling sail<br> +<span class = "ind2"> And bends the gallant mast;</span><br> + And bends the gallant mast, my boys,<br> +<span class = "ind2"> When, like an eagle free,</span><br> + Away the good ship flies, and leaves<br> +<span class = "ind2"> Old England on the lee."</span></p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + +<p>I quote these famous lines for their spirit rather than their +accuracy. It is not every ship that can so defy the laws of nature +as to run off a lee shore with a shore wind; and the <i>Vesuvius</i> bomb, +reaching up Channel with a rare nor'-nor'-westerly breeze, kept old +England well to windward all the time. But as Mr. Sturge explained +to the Major, later in the day, "Without being a practical seaman, an +artist can yet catch the spirit of these things and impart it to his +fellow-men."</p> + +<p>Mr. Sturge was not criticising (by anticipation) Allan Cunningham's +lines, but talking, as usual, about himself. Many circumstances +combined to induce a cheerful mood in him. To begin with, his +manacles had been removed. Also he had overcome the morning's +nausea. The <i>Vesuvius</i>—a deep vessel for her size—was by no means +speedy off the wind, and travelled indeed like a slug; but her frame, +built for the heavy mortars, was extraordinarily stout in comparison +with her masts, and this gave her stability. She was steering a +course, too, which kept her fairly close inshore and in smooth water.</p> + +<p>Indeed, so far as physical conditions went, Mr. Sturge was enjoying a +pleasure trip. His bold expostulations, moreover (for he did not +lack courage), had considerably impressed Captain Crang, who, though +not easily cowed as a rule, met them at a double disadvantage, being +at once unable to recall the events of overnight, and firmly +convinced that the whole misadventure was a trick of his Royal +Highness. In this state of mind the Captain, shaken by his debauch, +had almost collapsed before Mr. Sturge's demand that the ship should +be put about—or, as he expressed it, turned round—and navigated to +the nearest point of shore.</p> + +<p>"If," said Mr. Sturge, with a comprehensive wave of the hand, "if +along yon coast, in cove or bay or any natural recess—call it how +you will—there lurk a bench of magistrates insensate enough, as you +believe, to uphold this violation of a British subject's liberty, +steer for them, sir! I challenge you to steer for them! I can say +no fairer than that. Select what tribunal you please, sir, and I +will demonstrate before it that I and my companions, in spite of +appearances, are <i>no</i> seamen. You are to understand that by this +disclaimer I cast no reflection upon even the humblest toiler of the +deep. Nay, while myself inept either to trim the sail or net the +finny tribes, I respect those hardy callings—no man more so. Only I +claim that my own profession exempts me from this respectable but +un-congenial service; and that in short, sir, by forcibly trepanning +me, you have rendered yourself liable to swingeing damages, besides +inviting public attention to the fact that you were senselessly +intoxicated last night."</p> + +<p>This harangue, admirably delivered, took Captain Crang between wind +and water. It was in vain he looked to his first officer for help. +Mr. Wapshott, still swaying by the poop rail, lifted and wagged an +admonitory forefinger.</p> + +<p>"No use y'r asking me," said Mr. Wapshott. "<i>I</i> didn't dine with the +Duke." He paused and asked with sudden inconsequent heartiness, +"Well, and how did you get along, you two?"</p> + +<p>"If only I could tell!" murmured Captain Crang, passing a hand over +his brow.</p> + +<p>"Not stuck-up, I hope? Affable? I'll bet any man sixpence he was +affable. Mind you, I don't speak from 'xperience," went on Mr. +Wapshott, more in sorrow than in anger. "<i>I</i> don't dine out with +Admirals of the Fleet. The Blood Royal don't invite James Wapshott +to take a cup of kindness yet for auld lang syne, for auld lang syne, +my dear, for auld.… You'll excuse me, sir, some little emotion; +Robert Burns—Robbie—affecting beggar, mor' specially in his +homelier passages. A ploughman, sir; and from Ayrshire, damme!"</p> + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class = "noindent"> "'Wee sleekit crimson-tippit beastie—'"</p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + +<p>"Are you addressing me, sir?" roared Captain Crang.</p> + +<p>"Norratall. Field-mouse. <i>That</i>"—Mr. Wapshott drew himself up— +"<i>that's</i> the 'stonishing thing about it."</p> + +<p>"Go to your cabin, sir," the Captain commanded; "and you, +Mr. What's-your-name, come below and explain yourself."</p> + +<p>Thus, not without dignity, he withdrew from the field. But he +was beaten; and in his cabin a few minutes later he capitulated. +Mr. Sturge having been convinced that the ship could not be turned +around and headed back for Plymouth without grave inconvenience, and +perhaps detriment to his Majesty's service, it was agreed that he and +his company should be packed ashore immediately on reaching +Portsmouth. The question of compensation was waived by consent; +though Captain Crang shrewdly expressed his hope that, whatever steps +Mr. Sturge might take after consulting a solicitor, his Royal +Highness would not be dragged into the affair.</p> + +<p>In short, Mr. Sturge reappeared on deck in high spirits. He had +bearded a British officer—and a formidable one—in his den and had +come off victorious. He had secured his own liberty and his +comrades', and (as reflection told him) a first-class advertisement +to boot. Altogether, he had done very well indeed; and Mr. Jope, +chastened by his own narrow escape from a situation which at one +moment had promised to be serious, wisely left him all the credit of +this lucky turn of affairs. Mr. Jope, who ranked next to the Captain +and First Officer on the ship's executive, and actually ruled her +during their indisposition, exacted no work from his prisoners; but +was content to admire them from a distance—as, indeed, did the rest +of the crew—retiring from time to time behind convenient shelters to +hide their indecorous mirth. During the afternoon it may be said +that Mr. Sturge's troupe had the deck aft of the forecastle to +themselves. Being unacquainted with naval usage, they roamed the +poop indifferently with the main deck, no man forbidding them, while +Captain Crang and Mr. Wapshott slumbered below; the one of set +purpose, in the hope of recapturing through the gates of horn, if not +the complete data of last night's imbroglio, at least sufficient for +a plausible defence; the other under the influence of sedatives +administered by the Doctor.</p> + +<p>"I should soon get used to this life, d'ye know?" announced Mr. +Sturge, approaching the Major with a jaunty, almost extra-nautical +step, and clapping him, seaman fashion, on the shoulder.</p> + +<p>It was the hour of sunset. The <i>Vesuvius</i>, bowling along merrily, a +bare three miles off Berry Head, had opened the warm red-sandstone +cliffs of Torbay; and the Major, leaning over the larboard bulwark, +gazed on the slowly moving shore in gloomy abstraction. He had been +less fortunate than Mr. Sturge in his encounter with the Captain, +whom he had interrupted in the act of retiring to slumber.</p> + +<p>"One moment, sir," he had begun, confidently enough. "The +accomplished <i>artiste</i> to whose representations you have been good +enough to listen, has told you—so far as he is concerned—the simple +truth. To a certain extent I can corroborate him. But I beg you to +understand that he and I—if I may employ a nautical phrase—are not +in the same boat."</p> + +<p>"Who the devil may <i>you</i> be?" Captain Crang interposed.</p> + +<p>"That, sir," answered the Major with dignity, "is precisely what I +propose to explain. By an accident I find myself without a +visiting-card; but my name, sir, is Hymen—Major Hymen, sir—of the +Troy Volunteer Artillery (better known to you, perhaps, as the +Gallants), and Chief Magistrate of that ancient and picturesque +little borough."</p> + +<p>Captain Crang stared at him for a moment with lowered brows and jaw +working as if it chewed the cud of his wrath.</p> + +<p>"Look here," he replied. "You're the funny man of the troupe, I +suppose? Comic Irishman and that sort of thing, hey?"</p> + +<p>"I assure you, sir—"</p> + +<p>"And I assure <i>you</i>, sir, that if you come the funny dog over me, +I'll have you up to the gratings in two shakes of a duck's tail, and +tickle your funny ribs with three dozen of the best. Understand?" +The Captain paused, trembling with rage. "Understand, hey, you +'—' little barnstorming son of a '—'? Made a mistake, have I? +Cut your capers at my expense, would you, you little baldheaded runt? +By '—' if you pull another face at me, sir, you shall caper off the +yardarm, sir; on a string, sir; high as Haman, sir! I hope, sir," +wound up Captain Crang, recovering his calm, "that on this point, at +any rate, I have left no room for misunderstanding."</p> + +<br><p> +It will excite no wonder that Mr. Sturge found the Major somewhat +irresponsive to his own jubilant mood.</p> + +<p>"I should soon get used to this life," he repeated. "There's a +spirit in it—a breeziness, I may call it—which is positively +infectious. You don't find it so?"</p> + +<p>"I do not," the Major confessed.</p> + +<p>Mr. Sturge pointed his toe and seemed about to execute the first +steps of a hornpipe, but checked himself.</p> + +<p>"Rough tongue, the Captain's?" he queried.</p> + +<p>The Major swallowed a lump in his throat but did not answer.</p> + +<p>"Hasty temper. Under the circumstances, we may make some little +excuse, perhaps."</p> + +<p>"I prefer not to discuss it. The man has insulted me."</p> + +<p>"His bark is worse than his bite, I find," said Mr. Sturge +complacently. "And, after all, the moment you chose was not +precisely opportune—was it, now?"</p> + +<p>"I am not used, sir, to have my word doubted by any man."</p> + +<p>"Well, but—appearances considered—you pitched it pretty strong, eh? +Local magnate, and that sort of thing… it <i>did</i> seem like taking +advantage of his condition."</p> + +<p>"Advantage? Appearances? What do you mean, sir?" + +The Major turned resentfully, and at the same instant recollected +that he wore no wig. He blushed, His hand went up to his scalp.</p> + +<p>"Makes a difference," said Mr. Sturge. "Allow me." He drew from the +breast of his shirt a small pocket mirror. "I carry it always. +Useful—tittivate myself—in the wings."</p> + +<p>"The wings?" echoed the Major dully, taking the glass. He gazed into +it and started back with a cry.</p> + +<p>What an image was there confronting him! Was this the face of Troy's +Chief Magistrate? (forgive the blank verse). Were these the +features—was this the aspect—from which virtue had so often derived +its encouragement and wrongdoing its reproof? Was this the figure +the ladies of Troy had been wont to follow with all but idolatrous +gaze? Nay, who was this man—unshaven, unkempt, unbewigged, smeared +with mud from head to foot, and from scalp to jaw with commingling +bloodstains? The Major groaned incredulous, horrified; gazed, +shuddered, and groaned again.</p> + +<p>"Mind you," said Mr. Sturge reassuringly, "I'm not calling the truth +of your story into question for a moment. But under the +circumstances you'll allow it was a trifle stiff."</p> + +<p>"It is true to the last particular," insisted the Major, recovering +his dignity.</p> + +<p>"But come, now! Without a penny in your pocket, or so much as a +scrap of paper to identify you, you'll admit it was stiff? +Look here," he went on with a change of tone, slipping his arm +amicably within the Major's, "I've an idea. Comrades in adversity, +you know, and all that sort of thing. I've taken a liking to you, +and can do you a good turn. Drop that yarn of yours—'yarn,' +seafaring expression; odd how one catches the <i>colour</i>, so to speak. +Drop that yarn of yours. You're one of <i>us</i>, understand? The +Captain'll believe that; indeed, he believes it already—called you a +damned low-comedy man in my hearing. Very well; soon as we anchor +off Spithead, he outs with a boat and lands us ashore. I have his +solemn promise. Leave me to square that bos'n fellow—Jope, or +whatever he calls himself—and the job's as good as done."</p> + +<p>"And do you seriously propose," interrupted the Major, folding his +arms, "that I should pass myself off for a play-actor? Never, sir; +never!"</p> + +<p>"Why not?" asked Mr. Sturge easily.</p> + +<p>"I forbear, sir, to wound your feelings by explaining why your +suggestion is repugnant to me. Let it suffice that I detest deceit, +subterfuge, equivocation; or, if that suffice not, let me ask if you +do not propose, on reaching shore, to institute legal proceedings +against this petty tyrant?"</p> + +<p>"Probably."</p> + +<p>"Why, then, and how much more reparation does he not owe <i>me</i>, a +Justice of the Peace? Nay, sir, he shall pay me damages for this +kidnapping; but he has not stopped short there. He has used language +to me which can only be wiped out in blood. My first business on +stepping ashore will be to seek someone through whom I can convey my +demand for satisfaction. With what face, think you, could I present +this cartel if my own behaviour had been other than correct?"</p> + +<p>"You're not telling me you mean to fight him?" asked Mr. Sturge, +convinced by this time that he had to deal with a lunatic.</p> + +<p>"Pardon me." The Major bowed with grave irony. "This conversation, +sir, was of your seeking. I have paid you, it appears, too high a +compliment in assuming that you would understand what follows when a +gentleman is called the son of a—!"</p> + +<p>Mr. Sturge shrugged his shoulders and walked forward to seek Ben +Jope, whom he found by the forecastle hatchway engaged in slicing a +quid of black tobacco.</p> + +<p>"You'll excuse me," he asked, "but that rum little man who calls +himself Hymen—where did he escape from?"</p> + +<p>"Escape!" Ben Jope sprang to his feet, but catching sight of the +Major, who had resumed his pensive attitude by the bulwarks, sat down +again heavily. "Lord, but you frightened me! That Hymen don't +escape; not if I know it. He's the apple of my eye, or becoming so. +Now I tell you," said Mr. Jope, beginning to slice again at his +tobacco, then pausing to look up with engaging frankness; "you took +my fancy terrible for a few minutes; but, come to see you by +daylight, you're too pink."</p> + +<p>Mr. Sturge might have pressed for an explanation; but at this +juncture the first lieutenant of H.M.S. <i>Poseidon</i> came forward, +still with his painted scowl, and demanded to know, since the +<i>Vesuvius</i> could not reach Portsmouth for many hours, when supper +would be served, and what bedroom accommodation she provided.</p> + + +<br> +<br> +<p><a name="17"></a> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XVI.</h3> +<br> + +<h4>FAREWELL TO ALBION!</h4> + +<p>Shortly after noon next day, the wind still holding from the N.N.W., +though gradually falling light, the <i>Vesuvius</i> dropped anchor off +Spithead, and Captain Crang at once ordered a boat's crew to convey +the captives ashore.</p> + +<p>The Major waved farewell to them from the deck. Though once again +approached by Mr. Sturge, he had repelled all persuasions. In his +breast there welled up an increasing bitterness against his fate, but +on the point of dignity he could not be shaken. He would, on the +first fit occasion, have Captain Crang's blood; but he was obdurate, +though it cost him liberty for a while and compelled him to +disgusting hardship, to stand on the strictest terms of quarrel.</p> + +<p>He turned to find the boatswain at his elbow, eyeing him with +sympathy and even a touch of respect.</p> + +<p>"You done well," said Mr. Jope. "You don't look it, but you done +well, and I'll see you don't get put upon."</p> + +<br><p> +The <i>Vesuvius's</i> destination, as the Major learnt, was to join a +squadron watching the Gallo-Batavian flotilla off the ports of +Boulogne, Ambleteuse and Calais; and the occasion of her dropping +anchor off Portsmouth on the way was a special and somewhat singular +one; yet no more singular than the crisis with which Great Britain +had then to cope.</p> + +<p>Behind the sandhills from Ostend around to Etaples lay a French army +of 130,000 men, ready to invade us if for a few hours it could catch +our fleets napping. To transport them Napoleon had collected in the +ports of Ostend, Dunkirk, Calais, Ambleteuse, Vimereux, Boulogne and +Etaples, 954 transports and 1339 armed vessels—gun-brigs, schooners, +luggers, schuyts and prames; and all these light vessels lay snug in +their harbours, protected by shoals and sandbanks which our heavier +ships of war, by reason of their draught, could not approach.</p> + +<p>In particular, a double tier of vessels—one hundred and fifty in +all—which were moored outside the pier of Boulogne, and protected by +heavy shore batteries, excited while it baulked the rage of our +gallant seamen manoeuvring in the deep waters of the Channel.</p> + +<p>Strange diseases suggest strange remedies. Our Admiralty, in the +spring of the year, had been approached by an ingenious gentleman +with the model of an invention by which he professed himself able to +reach these hundred and fifty ships in Boulogne and blow them in air +without loss or even danger to our fleet. This machine consisted of +a box, about twenty feet long by three feet wide, lined with lead, +caulked, tarred, ballasted and laden almost to the water's edge with +barrels of powder and other combustibles. In the midst of the +inflammable matter was placed a clockwork mechanism which, on the +withdrawal of a peg, would in a fixed time (within some ten minutes +or thereabouts) ignite and explode the vessel.</p> + +<p>A dozen of these engines, claimed the inventor, if towed within range +and released, to be swept down upon Boulogne pier by the tide, would +within a few minutes shatter and dispel the nightmare of invasion.</p> + +<p>The Admiralty sanctioned the experiment, news of which had awakened +some interest not unmixed with derision throughout the British Fleet; +and the business which called the <i>Vesuvius</i> to Portsmouth was to +take in tow the first of these catamarans (as our sailors called +them) and convey it across to the squadron watching Boulogne.</p> + +<p>On the morning after the <i>Vesuvius's</i> arrival, two dockyard boats +arrived with the hull of the machine in tow—it resembled nothing so +much as a mahogany coffin—and attached her to the <i>Vesuvius's</i> stern +by a kind of shoreline. This done, the officer in charge presented +himself on board with the clockwork under his arm, and in his hand a +letter for Captain Crang, the first result of which was an order to +dress ship. Within half an hour the <i>Vesuvius's</i> crew had adorned +her from bowsprit to trucks and from trucks to stern with bunting, as +if for a Birthday; though, as Mr. Jope observed, with a glance at the +catamaran astern, the preparations pointed rather to a funeral. +Mr. Jope, as third officer of the ship, betrayed some soreness that +his two superiors had not taken him into their confidence.</p> + +<p>At eleven o'clock Captain Crang and Mr. Wapshott appeared on the poop +in full uniform, and a further order was issued to load the guns +blank for a salute.</p> + +<p>Hitherto the Major had been but an idler about deck; but finding the +crew of a gun short-handed, he volunteered his services, and was +immersed in the business of loading when a hand clapped him on the +shoulder. Turning, he confronted the boatswain.</p> + +<p>"And you go for to pretend for to tell me," said Mr. Jope +reproachfully, "that you're a amachoor!"</p> + +<p>The Major was about to explain that as an officer of artillery he +understood the working of a gun, when a loud banging from the town +drew all eyes shoreward; and presently Captain Crang, who had been +gazing in that direction through his glass, called to Mr. Wapshott, +who in turn shouted an order to man the yards.</p> + +<p>As this was an order which the Major neither understood nor, had he +understood it, could comply with, he remained on deck while the +sailors swarmed aloft and disposed themselves in attitudes the mere +sight of which turned him giddy, so wantonly precarious they seemed.</p> + +<p>The strains of the National Anthem from a distant key-bugle drew his +eyes shoreward again, and between the moored ships he descried a +white-painted gig approaching, manned by twenty oars and carrying an +enormous flag on a staff astern—the Royal Standard of England.</p> + +<p>Not until the gig, fetching a long sweep, had made a half-circuit of +the <i>Vesuvius</i> and fallen alongside her accommodation-ladder did the +Major comprehend. Captain Crang, with Mr. Wapshott behind him, had +stepped down the ladder and stood at the foot of it reverently +lifting his cocked hat.</p> + +<p>That rotund, star-bedecked figure in the stern sheet, beside the Port +Admiral—that classic but full-blooded face crowned with a chestnut +wig.… Who could it be if not his Royal Highness the Prince +Regent?</p> + +<p>Yes, it was he. Had not our Major scanned those features often +enough—in his own mirror?</p> + +<p>The Port Admiral was inviting Captain Crang to step into the gig. +The Prince nodded a careless, haughty assent, shrinking a little, +however, as Mr. Wapshott passed down the clockwork of the catamaran +for his royal inspection. Recovering himself, he glanced at it +perfunctorily and nodded to the sailors to give way and pull towards +the hull of the infernal machine.</p> + +<p>The curiosity which had brought him down to Portsmouth to inspect it +seemed, however, to have evaporated. The gig fell alongside the +coffin-like log, and the Port Admiral, having taken the clockwork out +of Captain Crang's hand, had launched into an explanation of its +working when the Prince signified hurriedly that he had seen as much +as he desired. Back to the ship the gig drifted on the tide, and +Captain Crang, dismissed with a curt nod, stepped on to the ladder +again, turned, and saluted profoundly.</p> + +<p>As he did so, the Major, erect above the bulwarks, found speech.</p> + +<p>"Your Royal Highness!" he cried. "Nay, but pardon me, your Royal +Highness! If I may crave the favour—explanation—a prisoner, +unjustly detained—"</p> + +<p>The Prince Regent lifted his eyes lazily as the bowman thrust off.</p> + +<p>"What a dam funny-looking little man!" commented he aloud, nudging +the Port Admiral, who had risen and was calling out the order to give +way for shore.</p> + +<p>"But, your Royal Highness!—"</p> + +<p>The Major raised himself on tiptoe with arms outstretched after the +receding boat. On the instant the ship shook under him as with an +earthquake, and drowned his voice in the thunders of a royal salute.</p> + +<p>"The Emperor Jovinian, Mr. Jope—"</p> + +<p>"Who was 'e?" Mr. Jope interrupted.</p> + +<p>Two days had passed, and the better part of a third. They seemed as +many years to our hero as, seated on the carriage of one of the +<i>Vesuvius's</i> starboard guns in company with the boatswain and Bill +Adams, he watched through its open port the many-twinkling smiles of +the sea, and, scarce two leagues away, the coast of France golden +against the sunset.</p> + +<p>"I am not precisely aware when he flourished," said the Major, "but +will make a point of inquiring when I return home. To tell you the +truth, I heard the story in church, in a sermon of our worthy +Vicar's, little dreaming under what circumstances I should recall it +as applicable to my own lot."</p> + +<p>"If it's out of a sermon," said Mr. Jope, "you may fire ahead. +But if, as you say, the man was taken for someone else, I thought it +would be clearer to start by knowing who he <i>was</i>."</p> + +<p>"It happened in this way. The Emperor Jovinian one sultry afternoon +in summer was hunting—"</p> + +<p>"What—foxes?"</p> + +<p>"Keep quiet," put in Mr. Adams. "When he's telling you it happened +in a sermon!"</p> + +<p>"In the ardour of the chase he had left his retinue far behind; and +finding himself by the shore of a lake, he alighted and refreshed +himself with a swim in its cool waters. While he thus disported +himself, a beggar stole his horse and his clothes."</p> + +<p>Mr. Jope smote his leg. "Now I call that a thundering good yarn! +Short, sharp, and to the point."</p> + +<p>"But you haven't heard the end."</p> + +<p>"Eh? Is there any more of it?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly. The Emperor, discovering the theft, was forced to creep +naked and ashamed to the nearest castle."</p> + +<p>"What was he ashamed of?"</p> + +<p>"Why, of being naked."</p> + +<p>"I see. Damme, it fits in like a puzzle!"</p> + +<p>"But at the castle, sad to say, no one recognised the proud Jovinian. +'Avaunt!' said the porter, and threatened to have him whipped for his +impudence. This distressing experience caused the Emperor to reflect +on the vanity of human pretensions, seeing that he, of whom the world +stood in awe, had, with the loss of a few clothes, forfeited the +respect of a slave."</p> + +<p>"I see," repeated Mr. Jope, as the narrator paused. "What became of +the beggar?"</p> + +<p>"I knew a worse case than that, even," said Bill Adams, turning his +quid meditatively. "It happened to a Bristol man, once a shipmate of +mine; by name Zekiel Philips, and not at all inclined to stoutness +when I knew him."</p> + +<p>"Why <i>should</i> he be?"</p> + +<p>"You wait. His wife kept a slop-shop at Bristol, near the foot of +Christmas Stairs—if you know where that is?"</p> + +<p>The Major, thus challenged, shook his head.</p> + +<p>"Ah, well; you'll have heard of O-why-hee, anyway—where they +barbecued Captain Cook? And likewise of Captain Bligh of the +<i>Bounty</i>—Breadfruit Bligh, as they call him to this day? +Well, Bligh, as you know, took the <i>Bounty</i> out to the Islands under +Government orders to collect breadfruit, the notion being that it +could be planted in the West Indies and grown at a profit. When he +came to grief and Government lookedlike dropping the job, a party of +Bristol merchants took the matter up, having interests of their own +in the West Indies, and fitted out a vessel—a brig she was, as I +remember—called the <i>Perseverance</i>. Whereby this here friend o' +mine, Zekiel Philips by name, shipped aboard of her. Whereby they +made a good passage and anchored off one of the islands—Otaheety or +not, I won't say—and took aboard a cargo, being, as they supposed, +ord'nary breadfruit; and stood away east-by-south for the Horn, +meaning to work up to Kingston, Jamaica. But this particular +breadfruit was of a fattening natur', whether eaten or, as you may +say, ab-sorbed into the system through a part of it getting down to +the bilge and fermenting, and the gas of it working up through the +vessel. Whereby, the breeze holding steady and no sail to trim for +some days, the crew took it easy below, with naught to warn 'em, +unless, maybe, 'twas a tight'ning o' the buttons. Whereby on the +fifth day they ran a-foul of a cyclone; and the cry being for all +hands on deck, half a dozen stuck in the hatchway and had to be sawed +loose. Whereby, in the meantime, she carried away her mainm'st, and +the wreckage knocked a hole in her starboard quarter. Likewise, her +stern-post being rotten, she lost a pintle, and the helm began to +look fifty ways for Sunday. All o' which caused the skipper to lay +to, fix up a jury rudder and run up for the nearest island to caulk +and repair. But meantime, and before he sighted land, this +unfortunate crew kept puttin' on flesh—and the cause of it hid from +them all the time—till there wasn't on the ship a pair of +smallclothes but had refused duty. Whereby, coming to the island in +question, they went ashore, every man Jack in loin-cloths cut out o' +the stun-s'le, and the rest of 'em as bare as the back of my hand. +Whereby their appearance excited the natives to such a degree, being +superstitious, they was set upon and eaten to a man. The moral +bein'," concluded Mr. Adams, "that a man lay be brought low by bein' +puffed up."</p> + +<p>"Ay," said Mr. Jope after a pause. "I never had no great +acquaintance with poetry, but I bought a pocket-handkercher once for +tuppence with a verse on it:"</p> + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class = "noindent"> "'Ri fal de ral diddle, ri fal de ral dee,<br> + What ups and downs in the world there be!'</p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + +<p>"And I don't believe you could use a truer text for the purpose, no +matter what you paid."</p> + +<p>The Major sighed. He was a high-spirited man, as the reader knows, +and I believe that, but for one cruel memory, he might have learnt +even to taste some humour in his situation. Thanks to Mr. Jope and +Mr. Adams, who had taken a genuine fancy to him, he found life on +board the <i>Vesuvius</i> cheerful if not comfortable. The fare was +Spartan, indeed, but, for a short holiday, tolerable. The prospect +of seeing some real fighting excited him pleasurably, for he was no +coward. Here, before his eyes, lay the coast of France; the actual +forts and guns with which his imagination had so often played. +What a tale he would have to tell on his return! And, by the way, +how his poor Trojans must be suffering in his absence, without news +of him! He pictured that return.… Yes, indeed, it was at the +expense of Troy that Fortune had conceived this practical joke. +He could even smile, as yet, at the thought of the Baskets' dismay as +they searched the house for him. He wondered if Mr. Basket had +forwarded his letter to Miss Marty, at the same time announcing his +disappearance. Well, well, he would dry her tears.…</p> + +<p>But upon this came the recollection of those cruel words:</p> + +<p>"<i>What a dam funny-looking little man!</i>"</p> + +<p>He might—he assuredly would—keep them a secret in his own breast. +But they echoed there.</p> + +<p>His vanity was robust. Again and again it asserted its health in his +day-dreams, expelling, or all but expelling, that poisonous memory. +Only at night, in his hammock, it awoke again—sinister, premonitory. +But as yet the man continued cheerfully incredulous. Fate was +playing, less on him than through him, a rare practical joke—no +more.</p> + +<br><p> +On the eighth of June, at about nine o'clock in the evening, it +occurred to Admiral Lord Keith that the wind and weather afforded an +excellent opportunity of testing the <i>Vesuvius's</i> far-famed catamaran +against the shipping moored off Boulogne pier. He signalled +accordingly; and at nine-thirty, under the eyes of the squadron, a +boat from the bomb-ship started to tow the infernal machine towards +the harbour. By leave of Bill Adams, commanding, our Major made one +of the crew of twelve.</p> + +<p>In less than a quarter of an hour their approach was signalled by the +enemy's vedettes to the forts ashore, which promptly opened fire. +Mr. Adams, having towed the catamaran within its proper range, with +his own hand pulled the plug releasing the clockwork, and gave the +order to cast off, leaving wind and tide to do the rest; which they +doubtless would have done had not a gun from one of the French +batteries plumped a shot accurately into the catamaran.</p> + +<p>The catamaran exploded with a terrific report, and the wave of the +explosion caught the retreating boat, lifted her seven feet, capsized +her, and brought her accurately down, bottom upwards.</p> + +<p>A score of boats put out to the rescue, picked up the exhausted +swimmers, and attempted to right and recover the boat, but abandoned +this attempt on the approach of an overwhelming force of French.</p> + +<p>These, coming up, seized on the boat and gallantly, under a +short-dropping fire from our squadron, proceeded to right their +prize; and, righting her, discovered Major Hymen, clinging to a +thwart, trapped as an earwig is trapped beneath an inverted +flower-pot.</p> + + +<br> +<br> +<p><a name="18"></a> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XVII.</h3> +<br> + + +<h4>MISSING!</h4> + +<p>Miss Marty had just finished watering her sweet-peas and mignonette; +had inspected each of the four standard roses beside the front gate +in search of green-fly; had caught a snail sallying forth to dine +late upon her larkspurs, and called to Cai Tamblyn to destroy it; +had, in short, performed all her ritual for the cool of the day; and +was removing her gardening gloves when a vehement knocking agitated +the front door, and Scipio hurried to announce that a caller—a +Mr. Basket—desired to see her on important business.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Basket?" she echoed apprehensively, and made at once for the +parlour, where she found her visitor mopping his brow. Despite the +heat, he was pale. In his left hand he held a letter.</p> + +<p>"You will pardon me," he began in a flutter. "Am I addressing Miss +Martha Hymen?"</p> + +<p>"You are, sir." Miss Marty clasped her hands in alarm at his +demeanour. "Oh, tell me what has happened!"</p> + +<p>"All the way from Plymouth on purpose," answered Mr. Basket. +"Most mysterious occurrence… ate a good dinner and retired to +his room apparently in the best of health and spirits. On our return +from the theatre he was gone."</p> + +<p>"Gone?"</p> + +<p>"Disappeared, vanished! We searched the house. His watch and +pocket-book lay on the bed, together with a certain amount of +loose change. His wig, too… you were aware?"</p> + +<p>"I have gone so far as to suspect it. But what dreadful news is +this? Disappeared? Leaving no clue?"</p> + +<p>"We are in hopes, my wife and I, that this may afford a clue. +A letter, and addressed to you; it lay upon his writing-table. +We did not feel ourselves at liberty to break the seal. I trust—I +sincerely trust—it may put a period to our suspense."</p> + +<p>Miss Marty took the letter, glanced at the address and tore the paper +open with trembling hands. She perused the first few sentences with +a puckered, puzzled brow; then of a sudden her eyes grew wide and +round. Despite herself she uttered a little gasping cry.</p> + +<p>"It contains a clue at least?" asked Mr. Basket, who had been +watching her face anxiously. "Dear lady, what does he say?"</p> + +<p>"Nun—nothing," Miss Marty caught at the back of a Chippendale chair +for support.</p> + +<p>"Nothing?" echoed Mr. Basket blankly.</p> + +<p>"Nothing—That is to say I can't tell you. Oh, this is horrible!"</p> + +<p>"But pardon me," Mr. Basket insisted. "After travelling all the way +from Plymouth!"</p> + +<p>"I can't possibly tell you," she repeated.</p> + +<p>"But, madam, consider my responsibility! I must really ask you to +consider my responsibility."</p> + +<p>"If I could only realise it! Oh, give me time, sir!"</p> + +<p>"Certainly, certainly; by all means take your time. Nevertheless, +when you consider my distress of mind, I appeal to you, madam, to be +merciful and relieve it. After travelling all this distance in the +dark—"</p> + +<p>"In the dark?" queried Miss Marty, with a glance at the window.</p> + +<p>"Tormented by a thousand speculations. In my house, too! In good +health, and apparently the best of spirits; and then without a word, +like the snuff of a candle!"</p> + +<p>"His brain must be affected," Miss Marty murmured, gazing at the +letter again. The handwriting swam before her. "Excuse me, sir, I +will not detain you a minute."</p> + +<p>She ran from the room and upstairs to her room, her knees shaking +beneath her. Heaven grant that the Doctor was at home! She agitated +her window-blind violently and drew it down to the third pane. +"You are wanted—urgent," was the message it conveyed.</p> + +<p>Yes, he was at home. "I come, instantly," answered her lover's +window; and in less than a minute, to her infinite relief, the Doctor +emerged from his front doorway and came bustling up the street almost +at a trot.</p> + +<p>She ran down and admitted him. In her face he read instantly that +something serious had happened; something serious if not +catastrophical: but with finger on lip she enjoined silence and led +the way to the parlour.</p> + +<p>"This gentleman has just arrived from Plymouth, with serious news of +the Major."</p> + +<p>"Serious? He is not ill, I trust?"</p> + +<p>"Worse," said Mr. Basket.</p> + +<p>"But first," interposed Miss Marty, "you must read this letter. +Yes, yes!"—blushing hotly, she thrust it into the Doctor's +unresisting hands—"you have the right. Forgive me if I seem +indecorous: but in such a situation you only can help me."</p> + +<p>"Eh? Oh, certainly—h'm, h'm!—" The Doctor adjusted his glasses and +began to read in a low mumbling voice. By and by he paused, then +slowly looked up with pained, incredulous eyes.</p> + +<p>"This is some horrible dream!" he groaned and, feeling his way to the +Major's armchair, sank into it heavily.</p> + +<p>"He swoons!" exclaimed Miss Marty. "One moment—a glassful of the +Fra Angelico!"</p> + +<p>She ran to the cupboard, found decanter and glasses, poured out a +dose and came hurrying back with it. He declined it, waving her off +with a feeble motion of the hand.</p> + +<p>She appealed to Mr. Basket. "Will <i>you</i>, sir?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Basket confessed afterwards that for the moment, excusably +perhaps, he lost his presence of mind. She had motioned to him to +administer the dose. He misunderstood. Taking the glass +distractedly, he drained it to the dregs, clapped a hand to his +windpipe, and collapsed, sputtering, in a chair facing the Doctor.</p> + +<p>"Oh, what have I done?" wailed Miss Marty.</p> + +<p>"He deserved it!"</p> + +<p>The Doctor pulled himself together, stood erect, and, lurching +forward, gripped Mr. Basket by the shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Sir, this lady is my affianced wife!"</p> + +<p>"Would you—mind—tapping me in the back?" pleaded Mr. Basket, +between the catches of his breath.</p> + +<p>"Not at all, sir." The Doctor complied. "As I was saying, this lady +is my affianced wife. Though Major Hymen were ten thousand times my +friend—by placing both hands on your stomach and bending forward a +little you will find yourself relieved—though Major Hymen were ten +thousand times my friend, it should be over my prostrate body, sir; +and so you may go back and tell him!"</p> + +<p>"But I can't find him!" almost screamed Mr. Basket.</p> + +<p>"He has disappeared!" quavered Miss Marty.</p> + +<p>"It's the best thing he could do!" Dr. Hansombody folded his arms and +looked at Mr. Basket with fierce decision. "Disappeared? Where?"</p> + +<p>They answered him in agitated duetto. "Where indeed?" The Major had +vanished, dissolved out of mortal ken, melted (one might say) into +thin air. "If one may quote the Bard, sir, in this connection"—Mr. +Basket wound up his recital—"like an insubstantial pageant faded he +has left not a rack behind; that is to say, unless the letter in your +hands may be considered as answering that description."</p> + +<p>"There's only one explanation," the Doctor declared. "The man must +be mad."</p> + +<p>Mr. Basket considered this for a moment and shook his head. "We left +him, sir, in the completest possession of his faculties. In all my +long acquaintance with him I never detected the smallest symptom of +mental aberration; and last night—good God! to think that this +happened no longer ago than last night!"—Mr. Basket passed a hand +over his brow—"Last night, sir, I recognised with delight the same +shrewd judgment, the same masculine intellect, the same large outlook +on men and affairs, the same self-confidence and self-respect—in +short, sir, all the qualities for which I ever admired my old +friend."</p> + +<p>"Nevertheless," the Doctor insisted, "he must have been mad when he +penned this letter."</p> + +<p>"Of the contents of which, let me remind you, I am still ignorant."</p> + +<p>The Doctor glanced at Miss Marty, then handed the letter to Mr. +Basket with a bow. "You have a right to peruse it, sir. You will +see, however, that its contents are of a strictly private nature, and +will respect this lady's confidence."</p> + +<p>"Certainly, certainly." Mr. Basket drew out his spectacles, and, +receiving Miss Marty's permission, seated himself at the table, +spread out the letter and slowly read it through. "Most +extraordinary! <i>Most</i> extraordinary! But you'll excuse my saying +that while, unfortunately, it affords no clue, this seems to me as +far as possible removed from the composition of a madman." He gazed +almost gallantly over his spectacles at Miss Marty, who coloured. +"In any case," he went on, folding up the letter and returning it, +"the man must be found. I understand, madam, that you are a relative +of his? Has he any others with whom we can communicate?"</p> + +<p>"So far as I know, sir, none."</p> + +<p>"I have a chaise awaiting me on the other side of the ferry. +With all respect, dear madam, I suggest it; I am sorry indeed to put +you to inconvenience—"</p> + +<p>"You propose that Miss Marty, here, should accompany you back to +Plymouth?"</p> + +<p>"That was the suggestion in my mind. And you, too, sir—that is, if +you can make it square with your engagements. Mrs. Basket will be +happy to extend her hospitality.… Two heads are better than one, +sir. We will prosecute our investigations together… with the +help of the constabulary, of course. We should communicate with the +constabulary, or our position may eventually prove an awkward one."</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes; the man having disappeared from your house."</p> + +<p>"Quite so. Apart from that, I see no immediate necessity for making +the matter public; but am willing to defer to your judgment."</p> + +<p>"That is a question we had better leave until we have seen the Chief +Constable at Plymouth. To publish the news here and now in Troy +would cause an infinite alarm, possibly an idle one. By the time we +reach Plymouth our friend may have reappeared, or at least disclosed +his whereabouts."</p> + +<br><p> +Alas! at Plymouth, where they arrived late that night, no news of the +missing one awaited them. Mrs. Basket, her face white as a sheet, +her ample body swathed in a red flannel dressing-gown, herself opened +the door to the travellers as soon as the chaise drew up. For hours +she had been expecting it, listening for the sounds of wheels. +Almost before the introductions were over she announced with tears +that she had nothing to tell.</p> + +<p>For a while she turned her thoughts perforce from the disaster to the +business of making ready the bedrooms for her guests and preparing a +light supper. But the meal had not been in progress five minutes, +before, in the act of loading Miss Marty's plate, she sat back with a +gasp.</p> + +<p>"Oh, and I was forgetting! Misfortunes, they say, never come singly, +and—would you believe it, my dear?—as I was walking in the garden +this afternoon, thinking to calm my poor brain, I happened to look at +the fish-pond and what do I see there but two of the gold-fish +floating with their chests uppermost!"</p> + +<p>"Chests, madam?" queried Dr. Hansombody.</p> + +<p>But sharp as his query was came a cry from Mr. Basket. +"The fish-pond?" He thrust back his chair, a terrible surmise +dawning in his eyes. "And the fish, you say, floating—"</p> + +<p>"Chest uppermost," repeated Mrs. Basket, "and dead as dead."</p> + +<p>"She <i>means</i>, on their backs," her husband explained parenthetically; +"a fashion de parlour, as the French would say. Did you examine the +pond? Heavens, Maria! did you examine the pond?"</p> + +<p>"Elihu, you make my flesh creep! Why should I examine the pond? +You don't mean to tell me—"</p> + +<p>"My shrimping-net! Don't sit shivering there, Maria, but bring me my +shrimping-net! And a lantern!" Mr. Basket caught up a +Sheffield-plated candle-sconce from the table, motioned the Doctor to +fetch along its fellow, and led the way out to the front garden.</p> + +<p>The night outside was windless, but dark as the inside of a hat.</p> + +<p>Their candles drew a dewy glimmer from the congregated statuary: +apparitions so ghostly that the Doctor scarcely repressed a cry of +terror. Mr. Basket advanced to the pond and set down his light on +the brink.</p> + +<p>"A foot deep… only a foot deep," he murmured. "It could not +possibly cover him."</p> + +<p>The two goldfish floated as Mrs. Basket had described them. +Mr. Basket, taking the shrimping-net from his wife, who shrank back +at once into darkness, plunged it beneath the water, deep into the +mud. Dr. Hansombody held a sconce aloft to guide him.</p> + +<p>The two ladies cowered behind a pedestal supporting the Farnese +Hercules.</p> + +<p>For a while nothing was heard in the garden but the splash of water +as Mr. Basket plunged his net again and again and drew it forth +dripping. Each time as he drew it to shore, he emptied the mud on +the brink and bent over it, the Doctor holding a candle close to +assist the inspection.</p> + +<p>As he emptied his net for maybe the twentieth time, something jingled +on the pebbles. Mr. Basket stooped swiftly, plunged his hand in the +slime, and held it up to the light.</p> + +<p>"Eh?" said the Doctor, peering close. "What? A latchkey?"</p> + +<p>"My duplicate latchkey!" In spite of the heat engendered by his +efforts, Mr. Basket's teeth chattered. "My wife gave it to him the +last thing."</p> + +<p>He turned and drove his net beneath the dark water with redoubled +energy. The very next haul brought to shore an even more convincing +piece of evidence—a silver snuff-box.</p> + +<p>It was the Major's. Mr. Basket had seen his friend use it a thousand +times; and called Miss Marty forward to identify it. Yes, undeniably +it was the Major's snuff-box, engraved with "S.H.," his initials, in +entwined italics.</p> + +<p>The two male searchers, regardless of their small-clothes, now +plunged knee-deep into the pond. For an hour they searched it; +searched it from end to end; searched it twice over.</p> + +<p>No further discovery rewarded them.</p> + +<p>Here was evidence—tangible evidence. Yet of what? The Major +had visited the pond during his hosts' absence at the theatre, and +had dropped these two articles into it. How, if accidentally? +If purposely, why? The mystery had become a deeper mystery.</p> + +<p>A little after midnight the search was abandoned. Mrs. Basket +administered hot brandy-and-water to the two gentlemen, and the +household retired to rest—but not to sleep.</p> + +<p>At breakfast next morning, before seeking the Chief Constable, +Mr. Basket and the Doctor compared notes. Each owned himself more +puzzled than ever.</p> + +<p>As it turned out, their discoveries led them straight away from the +true explanation. The Chief Constable, when they interviewed him, +was disposed for a brief while to suspect the press-gang. There had, +in fact, on the night before last, been a "hot press," as it was +called. At least a score of bodies of the Royal Marines, in parties +of twelve and fourteen, each accompanied by a marine and a naval +officer, had boarded the colliers off the new quay, the ships in +Cattewater and the Pool, and had swept the streets and gin-shops. +A gang of seamen, too, had entered the theatre and cleared the whole +gallery except the women; had even descended upon the stage and +carried off practically the whole company of actors, including the +famous Mr. Sturge. (This Mr. Basket could confirm.) The whole town +was in a ferment. He had already received at least seventy visits +from inquirers after missing relatives.</p> + +<p>But the discoveries in the fish-pond led him clean off the scent. +No press-gang would enter a private house or a private garden such as +Mr. Basket's. Even supposing that their friend had fallen a victim +to the press while walking the streets, they must admit it to be +inconceivable that he should return and cast a latchkey and a +snuff-box into Mr. Basket's fish-pond.</p> + +<p>"<i>Cui bono?</i>" asked the Chief Constable.</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon?" said Mr. Basket.</p> + +<p>"Well, in other words, what do you suggest he did it for? It's an +expression we use in these cases."</p> + +<p>The Doctor granted the force of the Chief Constable's reasoning, but +suggested that there could be no harm in rowing round the Fleet and +making inquiries.</p> + +<p>The Chief Constable answered again that the squadron—it was no more +than a squadron—had taken precious good care to time the press for +the eve of sailing; had in fact weighed anchor in the small hours of +the morning, and by this time had probably joined Admiral +Cornwallis's fleet off Brest.</p> + +<p>What was to be done?</p> + +<p>"In my belief," said the Chief Constable, "it's a case of foul play. +Mind, I'm not accusing anyone," he went on; "but this person +disappeared from your house, Mr. Basket, and in your place I'd put +myself right with the public by getting out a handbill at once."</p> + +<p>This dreadful possibility of coming under public suspicion had never +occurred to Mr. Basket. He begged to be supplied at once with pen, +ink and paper.</p> + +<p>"'Lost, stolen or strayed'—is that how you begin?"</p> + +<p>"If you ask me," said the Chief Constable, "I'd put him down as +'Missing.' It's more usual."</p> + +<p>"'Missing,' then. 'On the night of May 2nd—'"</p> + +<p>"From your house."</p> + +<p>"Must that go in?" Mr. Basket pleaded.</p> + +<p>"If you want to put yourself right with the public."</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes—'from The Retreat, East Hoe, the residence of E. Basket, +Esq., on the night of May 2nd, between the hours of 7 and 11 p.m., a +Gentleman—'"</p> + +<p>Mr. Basket paused.</p> + +<p>"We must describe him," said the Doctor.</p> + +<p>"I am coming to that. 'A Gentleman, answering to the name of +Hymen—'"</p> + +<p>"Why 'answering'?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Basket ran his pen through the word. "The fact is," he +explained, "I've only written out a thing of this sort once before in +my life; and that was when Mrs. Basket missed a black-and-tan +terrier. H'm, let me see.… Between the hours of 7 and 11 p.m., +Solomon Hymen, Esquire, and Justice of the Peace, Major of the Troy +Volunteer Artillery. The missing gentleman was of imposing +exterior—"</p> + +<p>"Height five feet, three inches," said the Doctor.</p> + +<p>"Eh? Are you sure?"</p> + +<p>"As medical officer of the Troy Artillery, I keep account of every +man in the corps; height, chest measurement, waist measurement, any +peculiarity of structure, any mole, cicatrix, birth-mark and so on. +I began to take these notes at the Major's own instance, for purposes +of identification on the field of battle. Little did I dream, as I +passed the tape around my admired friend, that <i>his</i> proportions +would ever be the subject of this melancholy curiosity!"</p> + +<p>"It reminds me," said Mr. Basket, "of a group in my garden entitled +<i>Finding the body of Harold</i>. Five feet three, you say? I had +better scratch out 'imposing exterior'; or, stay!—we'll alter it to +'carriage.'"</p> + +<p>"Chest, thirty-six inches; waist, forty-three inches; complexion— +does that come next?" Doctor Hansombody appealed to the Chief +Constable, who nodded.</p> + +<p>"Complexion, features, colour of hair, of eyes… any order you +please."</p> + +<p>"We must leave out all allusion to his hair, I think," said Mr. +Basket; "and, by the way, I suppose the—er—authorities will desire +to take possession of any other little odds-and-ends our friend left +behind him? Complexion, clear and sanguine; strongly marked +features. His eye, sir, was like Mars, to threaten and command; but +I forget the precise colour at this moment. We might, perhaps, +content ourselves with 'piercing.' If I allow myself to be betrayed +into a description of his moral qualities—"</p> + +<p>"Unnecessary," put in the Chief Constable.</p> + +<p>"And yet, sir, it was by his moral qualities that my friend ever +impressed himself most distinctly on all who met him. Alas! that I +should be speaking of him in the past tense! He was a man, sir, as +Shakespeare puts it:</p> + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class = "noindent"> +<span class = "ind5"> "Take him for all in all,</span><br> + We shall not look upon his like again."</p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + +<p>"A most happy description, Mr. Basket," the Doctor agreed. +"Would you mind saying it over again, that I may commit it to +memory?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Basket obligingly repeated it.</p> + +<p>"Most happy! Shakespeare, you say? Thank you." The Doctor copied +it into his pocket-book among the prescriptions.</p> + +<p>"One might add, perhaps," Mr. Basket submitted respectfully, "that a +mere physical description, however animated, cannot do justice to my +friend's moral grandeur, which, indeed, would require the brush of a +Michael Angelo."</p> + +<p>The Chief Constable inquired what reward they proposed to offer.</p> + +<p>"Ah, yes; to be sure!" Taken somewhat unexpectedly, Mr. Basket and +the Doctor exchanged glances.</p> + +<p>"On behalf of the relatives, now—" began Mr. Basket.</p> + +<p>"So far as I know, Miss Martha was the one relative he had in the +world," answered the Doctor.</p> + +<p>"So much the better, my friend, seeing that you have (as I +understand) her entire confidence."</p> + +<p>"I was about to suggest that—circumstances having forced you into +prominence—to take the lead, so to speak, in this unhappy affair—"</p> + +<p>"But why do we talk of price?" interposed Mr. Basket briskly, +"seeing that the loss, if loss it be, is nothing short of +irreparable? To my mind there is something—er—"</p> + +<p>"Desecrating," suggested the Doctor.</p> + +<p>"Quite so—desecrating—in this reduction of our poor friend to +pounds, shillings, and pence."</p> + +<p>"Nevertheless it is usual to name a sum," the Chief Constable assured +them. "Shall we say fifty pounds?" Mr. Basket took off his +spectacles and wiped them with a trembling hand. Dr. Hansombody +stood considering, pulling thoughtfully at his lower lip.</p> + +<p>"I think I can undertake," he suggested, "that the Town Council will +contribute a moiety of that sum. Something can be done by private +subscription."</p> + +<p>Mr. Basket brightened visibly. "Put it at fifty pounds, then," he +commanded, with a wave of the hand. "Should Providence see fit to +restore him to us, our friend, as a reasonable man, will doubtless +discharge some part of the expenses."</p> + +<p>Accordingly the bill was drafted, and the Chief Constable, after +running his blue pencil through some of its more monumental periods, +engaged to have it printed and distributed.</p> + +<p>"Do you know," confessed Mr. Basket, as he and the Doctor walked +homewards, "I felt all the while as if we were composing our friend's +epitaph. I have a presentimen—"</p> + +<p>"Do not utter it, my dear sir!" the Doctor entreated.</p> + +<p>"He was a man—"</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes; 'taking one thing with another, it is more than likely we +shall never see him again.' The words, sir, struck upon my spirit +like the tolling of a bell. But for Heaven's sake let us not +despair!"</p> + +<p>"Life is precarious, Dr. Hansombody; as your profession, if any, +should teach. We are here to-day; we are gone—in the more sudden +cases—to-morrow. What do you say, sir, to a glass of wine at the +'Benbow'? To my thinking, we should both be the better for it."</p> + + +<br> +<br> +<p><a name="19"></a> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XVIII.</h3> +<br> + +<h4>APOTHEOSIS.</h4> + +<p>At this point my pen falters. The order of events would require us +now to travel back to Troy with Miss Marty and the Doctor and break +the news to the town. But have you the heart for it? Not I.</p> + +<p>I tell you that I never now pass the Ferry Slip on the shore facing +Troy, on a summer's evening when the sun slants over the hill and the +smoke of the town rises through shadow into the bright air through +which the rooks are winging homeward—I never rest on my oars to +watch the horse-boat unmooring, the women up the street filling their +pitchers at the water-shute, the strawberry-gatherers at work in +their cliff gardens; but I see again Boutigo's van descend the hill +and two passengers in black alight from it upon the shore—Miss Marty +and the Doctor, charged with their terrible message. I see them +stand on the slip and shade their eyes as they look across to the +town glassed in the evening tide, I see beneath the shade of her palm +Miss Marty's lips tremble with the words that are to shatter that +happy picture of repose, brutally, violently, as a stone crashing +into a mirror. In the ferry-boat she trembles from head to foot, +between fear and a fever to speak and have it over.…</p> + +<p>But the town would not believe. Nay, even when Town Crier Bonaday, +dropping tears into his paste-pot, affixed the placard to the door of +the Town Hall, the town would not believe. Men and women gathered at +his back, read the words stupidly, looked into each other's faces and +shook their heads. Two or three gazed skyward.</p> + +<p>"The Major gone? No, no… there must be some mistake. He would +come back—to-morrow, perhaps—and bring light and laughter back with +him. It was long since the town had enjoyed a good laugh, and here +were all the makings of a rare one."</p> + +<p>But the days passed and brought no tidings.</p> + +<p>Miss Marty had drawn down the blinds in the Major's house, in token +of mourning and to shut out prying eyes: for during the first day or +two small crowds had collected in front and hung about the garden +gate to stare pathetically up at the windows. They meant no harm: +always when Cai Tamblyn or Scipio stepped out to remonstrate, they +moved away quietly.</p> + +<p>They were stunned. They could not believe.</p> + +<p>On the third day the Town Council met and elected Dr. Hansombody +Deputy-Mayor, "during the temporary absence of one whose permanent +loss this Council for the present declines to contemplate." +That same evening the Doctor called a public meeting, and in a +careful speech, interrupted here and there by emotion, told the +burgesses all there was to tell. "My friends," he concluded, "With a +sad and sorry heart I lay these few facts, these poor shreds of +evidence, before you. Oppressed as I am by the shadow of calamity, I +refuse to consider it as more than a shadow, soon under Providence to +be lifted from us. You, the witnesses of our daily intimacy, will +understand with what emotion I take up the sceptre which has fallen +from my friend's hand, with what diffidence I shall wield it, with +what impatience I shall expect the hour which restores it to his +strong grasp. In the words of Shakespeare"—here the Doctor +consulted his note-book—"he was indeed a man:"</p> + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class = "noindent"> +<span class = "ind5"> "Take him for all in all,</span><br> + We shall not look upon his like again."</p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + + +<p>"Of my own instance, ladies and gentlemen, I made bold to bid fifty +pounds for his recovery, feeling confident that Troy would endorse +the offer. Nor did I mistake. This morning the Corporation by +unanimous vote has guaranteed the sum. I have now the melancholy +privilege of proposing from this chair that a house-to-house canvass +be made throughout the town with the object of doubling this +guarantee." (Murmurs of approval from all parts of the hall.)</p> + +<p>The Vicar seconded. He would remind his audience that in the +thirteenth century Richard, Earl of Cornwall, afterwards King of the +Romans, had the misfortune to fall into the hands of the Saracens who +held him at ransom: and that by the promptness with which the +Cornishmen of those days, rich and poor together, made voluntary +contribution and discharged the price, they earned their coat-of-arms +of fifteen gold coins upon a sable ground, as well as their proud +motto "One and All." It had been said (I forget if in my hearing), +that the days of chivalry were past. Here was an opportunity to +disprove it and declare that the spirit of their ancestors survived +and animated the Cornishmen of to-day. (A Voice—"How about the +Millennium?") He would pass over that interruption with the contempt +it deserved. They were not met to bandy personalities, but as +citizens united in the face of calamity by affection for their common +borough. As stars upon the night, as the gold coins on their Duchy's +sable shield, so might their free-will offerings spell hope upon the +dark ground of present desolation. He, for his part, was ready to +subscribe one guinea—yes, and more if necessary.</p> + +<p>Although the Chairman had deprecated cheering, the audience broke +into loud applause as the Vicar resumed his seat. The town had taken +fire. Resolving itself into Committee, the meeting then and there +nominated fifty collectors, all volunteers. Nor did the movement end +here. Under the leadership of Miss Pescod the ladies of Troy devoted +each a favourite article of personal adornment to be coined at need +into money for the Major's redemption. (I myself possess a brooch +which, left by my great-grandmother to her daughter upon this +condition, to this day is known in the family as the Major's Cameo.) +In six days the guarantee fund ran up to eleven hundred pounds, of +which at least one-third might be accounted good money. In Troy we +allow, by habit, some margin for enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>A new placard was issued at once, and the reward increased to one +hundred and fifty pounds.</p> + +<p>For ten days this handsome offer evoked no more response than the +previous one. For ten days yet all trace of the Major vanished at +the edge of Mr. Basket's fish-pond.</p> + +<p>"It would almost seem," said Miss Sally Tregentil, discussing the +mystery for the hundredth time with Miss Pescod, "as if from that +fatal brink he had soared into the regions of the unknown and scaled, +as the expression goes, the empyrean."</p> + +<p>"If that's the case," remarked Miss Pescod practically, "twice the +money won't bring him back."</p> + +<p>On the 2nd of July the Chief Constable wrote to Dr. Hansombody that +he had discovered a clue. A doorkeeper of the Theatre Royal reported +(and was corroborated by the man in charge of the ticket-office) that +on the night of May 2nd, at about 10.30, a rough-looking fellow had +presented himself, dripping-wet, at the doors and demanded, in a +state of agitation, apparently the result of drink, to see Mr. +Basket, who occupied a reserved seat in the house; further, that +falling in with two sailors, who bought a ticket for him, the man had +mounted the gallery stairs in their company, and this was the last +seen of him by either of the deponents.</p> + +<p>The Doctor posted to Plymouth, carrying with him the only extant +portrait of the Major—a miniature taken at the age of twenty-five; +called on Mr. Basket, haled him off to the Chief Constable's office, +and there by appointment examined the two witnesses. The men stuck +to their story, but swore positively that the fellow they had seen +bore no resemblance to the portrait.</p> + +<p>"If you ask <i>me</i>," added the doorkeeper with conviction, "he was a +dam sight more likely to have been his murderer. He looked it, +anyhow."</p> + +<p>The Doctor and Mr. Basket returned to the latter's house in deeper +perplexity than ever.</p> + +<p>"The evidence," began Mr. Basket, lighting his pipe after dinner, +"vague as it is, points more decidedly than before to foul play. +We have been assuming that our poor friend, whether by accident or +design, found himself in my fish-pond."</p> + +<p>"He would hardly have walked into it on purpose," said the Doctor.</p> + +<p>"It is at least highly improbable. Well, here we have another man +who comes running to the theatre wet through—also, we will assume, +from an immersion in the fish-pond. We will suppose that he plunged +into it to the rescue and having brought his burden safe to shore, +ran to the theatre to inform me of the accident. At once we are +confronted with half a dozen serious difficulties. To begin with, +why, having asked for me, did he disappear?"</p> + +<p>"Press-gang," the Doctor suggested.</p> + +<p>"Granted. But why, having an urgent message to deliver, did he +proceed to take a ticket for the gallery in company with two sailors, +apparently strangers to him? Again, this explanation does not even +touch the crucial question, which is—How came our friend to +disappear?"</p> + +<p>The Doctor shook his head.</p> + +<p>"On the other hand," Mr. Basket continued, "if we take the darker +view, that this man had entered the fish-pond not for purposes of +rescue, but—dreadful thought—to hold the victim under water, why +should he have exposed himself to detection by coming to the theatre? +Why, in fine, should he desire to communicate at all with me?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps," suggested Mrs. Basket, who had been listening while she +knitted, "his conscience pricked him."</p> + +<p>"My dear Maria!" began her husband testily. But at this moment the +house rang with an alarm upon the front-door bell.</p> + +<p>The poor lady stood up fluttering, white in the face.</p> + +<p>"You must answer it, Elihu! I couldn't, not if you was to offer me +twice the reward at this moment—and him standing there, perhaps, or +his ghost, like Peter out of prison!"</p> + +<p>But their visitor proved to be the Chief Constable himself. He, too, +was pale with excitement, and he held in his hand a copy of the +Sherborne <i>Mercury</i>.</p> + +<p>"Your friend—" he began.</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"He is dead. The mystery is not, indeed, explained, but the issue of +it appears too certain. I was walking along old Town Street when the +Sherborne Rider came along. He gave me my copy, and see here!"—The +Chief Constable spread the paper under the lamp and pointed to this +paragraph:</p> + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class = "noindent"> "<i>Operations off Boulogne</i>. By advices received from Admiral + Lord Keith, the first experiment made with the new engines of + destruction (of which so much was hoped) against the vessels + moored off Boulogne pier, has not resulted in an unqualified + success. On the 15th ult. one of these catamarans, as they are + called, was launched against the foe from the <i>Vesuvius</i> bomb. + The machinery had been set in motion, and the bomb's boat, + having towed it into range, was preparing to return to the ship, + when a shot from the shore batteries, falling close, + precipitated our gallant fellows into the water. We are happy + to add that they were all picked up by the boats of the squadron + with the exception of one seaman, recently shipped at Plymouth. + His name is given as Hymen; and the Captain of the <i>Vesuvius</i> + reports that he joined as a volunteer.<br><br> + + "We need hardly remind our readers that the name of Hymen has + figured prominently for a fortnight past in our advertisement + columns. If this gallant but unfortunate man should prove to be + none other than Solomon Hymen, Esquire, Chief Magistrate of + Troy, Cornwall, whose recent mysterious disappearance has cast a + gloom over the small borough, we commiserate our friends in the + West while envying them this exemplar of an unselfish + patriotism. <i>Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori</i>."</p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + +<p>Troy required no further evidence. To those of us indeed who had +known the man—who, to borrow the words of a later poet, had lived in +his mild and magnificent eye—the news carried its own verification. +Precisely how—in what circumstances—he had volunteered, we might +never elucidate: but the act itself, when we came to consider it, was +of a piece with his character. He had left us in chagrin, betrayed +by our unworthiness, nursing a wound deeper than any personal spite. +Summarily, by a stroke, in the simplicity of his greatness, he had at +once rebuked us and restored our pride. Perishing, he had left us an +imperishable boast; an example to which, though our own conscience +might accuse us, we could point, and saying "This was a Son of Troy," +silence detraction for ever. Need I add that we made the most of it?</p> + +<br><p> +Mayor-choosing Day came round, and Dr. Hansombody, elected by the +unanimous vote of his fellow-councillors, attained to one of the twin +summits of his ambition and was indued as Chief Magistrate with robe +and chain. Six weeks later the town heard, at first incredulously, +that he and Miss Marty were betrothed. The nuptials, it was +announced, would be celebrated next June, on the decent expiry of a +year of mourning.</p> + +<p>Miss Sally Tregentil, on hearing the news, opined the Doctor's +conduct to be quixotic—a self-immolation, almost, upon the altar of +friendship.</p> + +<p>Miss Pescod, for her part, believed that he was after the woman's +money. This unworthy suspicion the Doctor was fortunately able to +rebut, and in the most public manner. After the wedding (a quiet +one) he and his bride spent a short honeymoon at Sidmouth and +returned but to announce their departure on a more distant journey. +The Major's death being by this time, in legal phrase, "presumed," +the Court of Canterbury had allowed Miss Marty to take out letters of +administration. It behoved her now to travel up to London, interview +proctors, and prove the will, executed (as the reader will remember) +on the eve of that fatal First of May and confided to Lawyer Chinn's +keeping. The town having subscribed for and purchased a pair of +silver candelabra as a homecoming gift, the Mayor and Mayoress had no +sooner returned and been welcomed with firing off cannon and pealing +of bells than a day was fixed and a public meeting called for the +presentation—a ceremony performed by the Vicar in brief but +felicitous terms. The Doctor made a suitable speech of +acknowledgment, and then, after waiting until the applause had +subsided, lifted a hand.</p> + +<p>"My friends," he said, "before we disperse I am charged to tell you +that my wife and I contemplate another journey, and almost +immediately. You may think how sad that errand is for us when I tell +you that we go to prove the late Major Hymen's will. But I dare to +hope you will understand that our feelings are not wholly tinged with +gloom when you hear the provisions of that document, which I will now +ask my friend Mr. Chinn to read aloud to you."</p> + +<p>And this is the substance of what Lawyer Chinn read:</p> + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class = "noindent"> To his kinswoman Miss Martha Hymen, the Major left a life + interest in the sum of five thousand pounds, invested in + Government stock.<br><br> + + To his faithful servant Scipio Johnston the sum of one hundred + and fifty pounds. To his servant Caius Tamblyn, fifty pounds.<br><br> + + To each member of the Corporation of the Borough of Troy holding + office at the time of his death, five pounds to buy a mourning + ring.<br><br> + + To the Town Clerk the same, and to Mr. Jago, Town Constable, the + same.<br><br> + + To the Honourable and Gallant Corps of the Troy Volunteer + Artillery, nineteen guineas, to purchase two standards, to be + borne by them on all occasions of ceremony.<br><br> + + To the Vicar and Churchwardens, two hundred pounds, the interest + to be distributed annually among the poor of the Parish, on + Easter Day.<br><br> + + To the Feoffees and Governors of the Free Grammar School, a like + sum to be spent in renovating the building, and a further sum of + one thousand pounds to be invested for the maintenance, clothing + and education of ten poor boys of the Borough.<br><br> + + To the Vicar and Dr. Hansombody, his executors, fifty pounds + apiece.<br><br> + + And lastly, the residue of his estate (some four thousand + pounds), together with the five thousand pounds reverting on his + kinswoman's death, to the Mayor and Corporation, to build and + endow a Hospital for the relief of the sick; the same to be + known as the Hymen Hospital, 'in the hope that the name of one + who left no heirs may yet be preserved a while by the continuity + of human suffering.'<br><br> +</blockquote></blockquote> + +<p>At the conclusion of Lawyer Chinn's reading it is not too much to say +that all his audience caught their breaths. They had known the Major +to be a great man: but not till now—not perhaps until that last +solemn sentence fell on their ears—had they understood his +greatness.</p> + +<p>I have heard that the silence which followed was broken by a sob. +Certainly the meeting dispersed in choking silence.</p> + +<p>At length Troy realised its loss.</p> + +<p>From that moment the figure, hitherto remembered in the clear +outlines of affection, begun to grow, loom, expand, in the mists of +awe. It ceased to be familiar, having put on greatness. Men began +to tell how, on that last fatal expedition, the Major had turned +single-handed and held a whole squadron of Dragoons at bay.</p> + +<p>In his garden, by the brink of the fish-pond, Mr. Basket reared a +stone with the following inscription:</p> + + <h4>ATTEND</h4> + <h4>O PASSER BY!</h4> + <h4>ON THIS</h4> + <h4>SPOT AS NEARLY AS CAN BE ASCERTAINED</h4> + <h4>SOLOMON HYMEN, ESQUIRE</h4> + <h4>SEVEN TIMES MAYOR OF TROY</h4> + <h4>IN CORNWALL</h4> + <h4>RELINQUISHED HIS HONOURS</h4> + <h4>FOR HIS COUNTRY'S NEED</h4> + <h4>AND RESOLUTELY SACRIFICED</h4> + <h4>EASE, FRIENDSHIP, FAME</h4> + <h4>TO EMBARK HIS SOLE MANHOOD</h4> + <h4>IN HER DEFENCE</h4> + <h4>AMID THE SURROUNDING MEMORIALS</h4> + <h4>OF GREECE AND ROME</h4> + <h4>CHALLENGING</h4> + <h4>THE SEVEREST VIRTUES OF ANTIQUITY</h4> + <h4>WITH A BRITON'S RESOLUTION</h4> + + +<br> +<br> +<p><a name="20"></a> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XIX.</h3> +<br> + + +<h4>THE RETURN.</h4> + +<p>There lies before me a copy of <i>The Plymouth and Dock Telegraph</i>, +dated Saturday, July 2nd, 1814, much tattered and broken along the +creases into which my great-grandmother (the same that left us the +Major's Cameo) folded it these many years ago, to be laid away for a +memorial.</p> + +<p>The advertisements need not detain us long. Two husbands will not be +responsible for their wives' debts, and one of them alleges that his +lady "has behaved herself improperly during my absence at sea." +A solicitor will lend £1000 on good security. A medical man, +yielding to the persuasions of numerous friends, will remain another +fortnight in the town; and may be consulted as usual at Mr. Kitt's, +Grocer, King Street, Dock, every Tuesday and Saturday from ten to +six. M. La Barre (whom I guess to have been a Royalist refugee) will +reopen instruction for young ladies and gentlemen in the French +language on the 12th inst. The tolls and profits of the Saltash and +the Ashburton turnpikes will be bidden for by public auction. +The schooner <i>Brothers</i> and the fast-sailing cutter <i>Gambier</i> are for +sale, together with the model of a frigate, "about six feet two +inches long, copper-bottomed, and mounted with thirty-two guns." +The Royal Auxiliary Mail will start from Congdon's Commercial Inn +every afternoon at a quarter before five, reaching the "Bell and +Crown," Holborn, in thirty-six hours: passengers for London have a +further choice of the "Devonshire" (running through Bristol) or the +"Royal Clarence" (through Salisbury). Two rival light coaches +compete for passengers to Portsmouth. The "Self-Defence," Plymouth +to Falmouth, four insides, will keep the same time as His Majesty's +Mail. The Unitarian Association advertises a meeting at which Dr. +Toulmin of Birmingham will preach. The Friends of the Abolition of +the Slave Trade print a long manifesto. The Phoenix, Eagle and Atlas +Companies invite insurers. Sufferers from various disorders will +find relief in Spilsbury's Patent Antiscorbutic, Dr. Bateman's +Pectoral, and Wessel's Jesuit's Drops.</p> + +<p>Turning to the news columns, we find the whole country aflame with +joy at the restoration of Peace. Once again (it is ten years since +we last saw him there) the Prince Regent is at Portsmouth, feasting, +speech-making, dancing, reviewing the fleet and the troops. With him +are the Emperor of Russia; the Emperor's sister, the Duchess of +Oldenburg; the King of Prussia; the Royal Dukes of Clarence, York, +Cambridge; the Duke of Wellington and Field-Marshal Blucher. We read +that on first catching sight of Wellington the Prince Regent "seized +his hand and appeared lost in sensibility for the moment." As for +Blucher, a party of sailors, defying his escort of dragoons, boarded +and "took possession of the quarter-deck, or, in other words, the top +of the carriage."</p> + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class = "noindent"> "Some were capsized; but two of them swore to defend the brave, + and, as the carriage drew on, to the delight of all the tars + commenced reels <i>a la Saunders</i> on the top, all the way to + Government House, where the General was received with open hands + and hearts, amid a group of as brave warriors as ever graced a + festive table or bled in defence of their country's wrongs + (<i>sic</i>)."</p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + +<p>At the subsequent Ball:</p> + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class = "noindent"> "The Duke did not dance: and the gallant Blucher was so overcome + by the heat of the ballroom as to oblige him to retire for a + short time.… The two gallant Generals rode from the + Government House in the same carriage; and it was observed that + the Emperor of Russia shook hands with the illustrious + Wellington every time he was near him."</p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + +<p>From Portsmouth next day the Duke posts up to Westminster, to be +introduced by the Dukes of Richmond and Beaufort and take his seat in +the Lords under his new patents of nobility. Simultaneously in the +Commons, Lord Castlereagh moves a Vote of Thanks, which is carried by +a unanimous House. For the rest, Parliament is mainly occupied in +discussing Lord Cochrane's case and the sorrows of Her Royal Highness +the Princess of Wales, especially "the inadequacy of her income to +support the ordinary dignities of her rank, and afford her those +consolations which the unfortunate state of her domestic feelings +require." Mr. Wilberforce delivers a most animated speech against +the Slave Trade. It is rumoured that Princess Charlotte of Wales +has definitely refused the hand of the Prince of Orange, and that +the rejected lover has left London, full of grief, in his +carriage-and-four.</p> + +<p>In short, our Major has been lost to us for ten full years, and still +the world goes on: nay, for the moment it is going on excitedly. +The procession with which the officers and artificers of Plymouth +Dockyard yesterday celebrated the establishment of Peace alone +occupies five columns of the paper.</p> + +<p>What, then, of Troy? Ah, my friends, never doubt that Troy did its +part, and, what is more, was beforehand as usual!</p> + + <h4>REJOICINGS AT TROY</h4> +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class = "noindent"> "In consequence of the re-establishment of Peace, the inhabitants + of Troy were at an early hour on <i>Monday</i>, June 13th, busily + employed in decorating their houses with laurel, etc., and + forming arches in the streets, variegated with flowers and + emblematical representations; and thirty-eight well-formed + arches soon graced the joyful town.…"</p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + +<p>Thirty-eight arches! Consider it, you provincial towns of twice, +thrice, ten times Troy's size, who erected a beggarly five or six on +Queen Victoria's last Jubilee, and doubtless plumed yourselves on +your exuberant loyalty!</p> + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class = "noindent"> ". . . To regale the poor, a bullock, two sheep (each weighing a + hundred pounds), eight hundred twopenny loaves, with a + great quantity of beer and porter, the gift of Sir Felix + Felix-Williams, were distributed in the Market House and + Town Hall by the Mayor (Dr. Hansombody) and gentlemen. + Every individual appeared happy: indeed it was highly gratifying + to see so many people with joy painted on their countenances + showing forth the delight of their hearts. To crown the day, a + number of respectable citizens drank tea with the Mayoress, + after which they adjourned to the Town Hall and commenced + dancing, which was kept up for a long time with great spirit and + regularity.<br><br> + + "<i>Tuesday</i> morning was ushered in with ringing of bells, etc., + and a great number of people assembled before the 'Ship' Inn to + dance, during which the ladies were engaged in ornamenting, with + flowers, flags and emblems, two boats placed on wheel sledges + drawn by the populace. In fitting them up with such taste and + elegance, Miss P—d and Miss S. T—l were particularly active + and deserve every praise. At three o'clock the Mayor and a + respectable company sat down to an excellent dinner at the + 'Ship' Inn, the band playing many grand national tunes in an + adjoining room. After the repast signals were given from the + Town Quay for the Battery guns to fire, and they accordingly + fired three royal salutes in compliment to the Allied + Sovereigns. The boats before mentioned were soon ready to + start, the former filled by ladies with garlands and other + emblems of Peace in their hands, and the latter with musicians; + but previous to their removal Lord Wellington and some Cossacks + appeared on horseback in search of Bonaparte, who according to + his late practice had taken flight. However, he was soon driven + back and taken, being met by a miller, who jumped up behind him + and, observing his dejected and mournful countenance, embraced + him with all the seeming fondness of a parent, desiring him to + rouse up his spirits, if possible, to preserve his life. + The grand procession of boats now began by a slow but graceful + movement of the first, in the bow of which was a dove with + outspread wings, holding an olive branch in her mouth. + The boats were followed by a great concourse of people through + the streets, and on their return were met by many gentlemen with + wine, etc. This day, like the preceding, ended with a merry + dance in the Town Hall.<br><br> + + "<i>Wednesday's</i> rejoicings opened at noon with a dinner at the + 'King of Prussia,' attended by the survivors of the disbanded + Troy Volunteer Artillery, attired in the uniforms of that + ever-famous corps. The sight of the old regimentals evoked the + tears of sensibility from more than one eye which had never + flinched before the prospect of actual warfare. After the meal, + at which many a veteran 'told his battles o'er again,' a number + of toasts were proposed by the Mayor, including 'The Allied + Sovereigns,' 'The Prince Regent,'' The Duke of Wellington' + (with three times three), 'The Troy Gallants,' 'The Memory of + their first beloved Commander, Major Hymen'—this last being + drunk in silence. The company then dispersed, to reassemble + below the Town Quay, where the boats which had adorned Monday's + festivities were again launched, this time upon their native + element, and proceeded, amid the clanging of joy-bells from the + church tower, to cross the harbour, on the farther shores of + which a large and enthusiastic crowd awaited them. In the first + boat were the musicians; in the second a number of ladies and + gentlemen in fancy costumes. A score of boats followed, filled + with spectators; and were welcomed, as they reached the shore, + with loud expressions of joy. Lord Wellington was again mounted + on horseback, with General Platoff and some Cossacks. + Bonaparte and his followers were also mounted, and some + skirmishes took place of so lifelike a character as to evoke + universal plaudits.…"</p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + +<p>A wooden-legged man, who had been stumping it for many hours along +the high road from Plymouth, paused on the knap of the hill, mopped +his dusty brow, and gazed down upon the harbour, shading his eyes. +He wore a short blue jacket with tattered white facings, a pair of +white linen trousers patched at the knees, a round tarpaulin hat, a +burst shoe upon his hale foot, and carried a japanned knapsack—all +powdered with white dust of the road in which his wooden leg had been +prodding small round holes for mile after mile.</p> + +<p>He had halted first as his ear caught the merry chime of bells from +the opposite shore. Having mopped his brow, he moved forward and +halted again by a granite cross and drinking-trough whence the road +led steeply downhill between the first houses of the village. He was +visibly agitated. His hand trembled on his stick: his face flushed +hotly beneath its mask of dust and sweat, and upon the flush a +cicatrix—the mark of a healed bullet-wound—showed up for the moment +on his left cheek, white as if branded there.</p> + +<p>The people were shouting below, cheering vociferously. Yes, and +along the harbour every vessel, down to the smallest sailing-boat, +was bedecked with bunting from bowsprit-end to taffrail. The bells +rang on like mad. The bells.… He dropped the hand which had +been shading his eyes, let dip his frayed cuff in the water of the +fountain and, removing his hat, dabbed his bald head. This—had he +known it—worsened the smears of dust. But he was not thinking of +his appearance.</p> + +<p>He was thinking—had been thinking all the way from Plymouth—only of +the harbour at his feet, and the town beyond. His eyes rested on +them again, after ten years. All the way his heart had promised him +nothing but this. He had forgotten self; having in ten years, and +painfully, learnt that lesson.</p> + +<p>But the music of the bells, the distant sounds of cheering, recalled +that forgotten self; or perhaps it leapt into assertiveness again +unwittingly, by association of ideas with the old familiar scene. +He had left the people cheering.… Was it ten years ago? +They were cheering still.…</p> + +<p>The road within view was deserted. But from below the dip of the +hill the cheers ascended, louder and louder yet, deepening in volume.</p> + +<p>He had intended to walk down the hill—as he hoped, unrecognised— +cross the ferry, and traverse the streets of Troy to his own front +door; then, or later, to announce himself. A thousand times in his +far prison in Briancon among the high Alps he had pictured it. +He had discounted all possibilities of change. In ten years, to be +sure, much may happen.…</p> + +<p>But here below him lay the harbour and the town, save for these +evidences of joy surprisingly unchanged.</p> + +<p>Why were the church bells ringing; the people shouting? Could word +have been carried to them? He could not conceive how the news had +managed to outstrip him.</p> + +<p>He had left the people cheering; they were cheering still.… Were +these ten years, then, but a grotesque and hideous dream? He gazed +down upon his wooden leg, stiffly protruding before him and pointing, +as it were ironically, at the scene of which it shared no memories.</p> + +<p>A moment later he lifted his head at the sound of hoofs galloping up +the road towards him. Round the corner, on a shaggy yellow horse +almost <i>ventre-a-terre</i>, came a little man in a cocked hat, who rose +in his stirrups drunkenly and blew a kiss to a dozen armed pursuers +pounding at his heels.</p> + +<p>Between wonder and alarm, the Major (you have guessed it was he) +sprang up from his seat by the fountain. Fatal movement! At the +sudden apparition the yellow horse shied violently, swerving more +than halfway across the road; and its rider, looking backwards and +taken at unawares, was shot out of his stirrups and flung +shoulders-over-head in the dust, where he rolled sideways and lay +still. His pursuers reined up with loud outcries of dismay. +The Major advanced to the body, knelt beside it and turned it over. +The man was bleeding from a cut in the head; but this and a slight +concussion of the brain appeared to be the extent of his injuries. +His neck-cloth being loosened, he groaned heavily. The Major looked +up.</p> + +<p>"A nasty shock! For the moment I was half afraid—"</p> + +<p>The words died away on his lips. One or two of the riders had +alighted and all stood, or sat their horses, around him in a ring. +He knew their faces, their names; yes, one and all he knew them; and +they wore the uniform of the Troy Volunteer Artillery!</p> + +<p>With a tightly beating heart he waited for their recognition.… +No sign of recognition came. They eyed him curiously. It seemed to +them that he spoke with something of a foreign accent. To be sure he +articulated oddly—owing to his wound, of which his cheek bore the +visible scar.</p> + +<p>He knew them all. Had they not, each one of them, aforetime saluted +him their commander, raising their hand to the peaks of these very +shakos? Had they not marched, doubled, halted, presented arms, stood +at attention, all as he bade them? He recognised the victim of the +accident, too—a little tailor, Tadd by name, who in old days had +borne a reputation for hard drinking.</p> + +<p>"I reckon they must ha' stationed you here for a relay," suggested +Gunner Sobey (ever the readiest man, no matter in what company he +found himself) after eyeing the Major for a while.</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon?"</p> + +<p>"I beg <i>yours</i>. Seemin' to me I've seen your features before, +somewhere, though I can't call up your name." It is a point of +honour with the men of Troy (I may here observe) to profess an +ignorance of their less-favoured neighbours across the harbour. +"I can't call up your name for the moment, dressed as you be—but +'twas thoughtful of 'em, knowing Tadd's habit, to post up a second +figger for a relay. The man seems to be shaken considerable," he +went on. "'Twould be a cruelty, as you might say, to ask him to go +on playin' Boney, with a wife and family dependent and his heart not +in it."</p> + +<p>"He certainly isn't fit to mount again, if that is what you mean," +said the Major, and glanced up the road where one of the troop +(Bugler Opie) had ridden in pursuit of the yellow horse and now +reappeared leading back the captive by the bridle.</p> + +<p>"That's just what I'm saying," agreed Gunner Sobey; "and +you'll do very well if you change hats." He stooped and picked +Tadd-Bonaparte's <i>tricorne</i> out of the dust and brushed it with the +sleeve of his tunic. "Here, let's see how you look in it." +He flipped off the Major's tarpaulin hat, clapped on the substitute, +and fell back admiringly. "The Ogre to the life," he exclaimed; "and +<i>with</i> a wooden leg! Hurroo, boys!"</p> + +<p>Before the Major could expostulate a dozen hands had lifted him into +the saddle astride the yellow horse.</p> + +<p>"But—but I don't know in the least, my friends, what you intend! +I cannot ride; indeed I cannot!"</p> + +<p>"<i>With</i> a wooden leg! The idea!" answered Gunner Sobey, cheerfully. +"Never you mind, but catch hold o' the pommel. We'll see to the +rest."</p> + +<p>The riders closed in and walked him forward down the hill, Gunner +Sobey pressing close and supporting him, holding his wooden leg tight +against the saddle-flap. The Major cast a wild look about him and +saw Bugler Opie and another Gallant (Gunner Warboys—he knew all +their names) lifting the half-unconscious Tadd and bearing him +towards the fountain, to revive him. What was happening? Should he +declare himself, here and now?</p> + +<p>The company broke into cheers as they set their horses in motion. +Had they indeed recognised him? The procession was assuredly a +triumph, of some sort or another. But what did they intend?</p> + +<p>From across the harbour the bells of Troy were ringing madly.</p> + +<p>The Major shut his teeth. If this were indeed the town's fashion of +welcoming him, well and good! If it were a mistake—a practical joke +(but why should it be either?)—he had not long to wait for his +revenge.…</p> + +<p>Let <i>The Plymouth and Dock Telegraph</i> narrate, in its own succinct +language, what followed:</p> + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class = "noindent"> "The Corsican tyrant coming to grief in an attempt to elude the + righteous wrath of his pursuers, another impersonator was + speedily found, with the additional touch of a wooden leg, which + was generally voted to be artistic. This new Boney on being + conveyed down to the water's edge was driven into a boat, his + countenance eliciting laugher by its almost comic display of the + remorse of fallen ambition. A pair of his <i>soi-disant</i> + supporters leapt in and affected to aid his escape, and were + followed by pursuing boats in every direction, which had a most + pleasing effect. At length, being hemmed in and made captive, + he was taken to an island near the shore, supported by two + officers of the Troy Volunteers, who affixed a board over him, + upon which was printed, in large letters, 'ELBA.' We regret to + say that in his vivacious efforts to reproduce the feelings of + the fallen tyrant, the impersonator—who by latest accounts is a + seaman recently paid off and impressed, almost at a moment's + notice, for the <i>role</i> he sustained with such impromptu + spirit—slipped on the wet seaweed and sustained a somewhat + serious injury of the hip. Being with all expedition rescued, + he was conveyed ashore to the Infirmary, which, founded by the + late Major Hymen as a War Hospital, henceforward will open its + doors to those diseases and casualties from which even Peace + cannot exempt our poor humanity. By latest advices the invalid + is well on his way to recovery. In the evening there was a + grand display of fireworks on the Town Quay, conducted by the + Magistrates, to whom every praise is due for their efforts to + promote conviviality and order."</p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + +<br> +<br> +<p><a name="21"></a> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XX.</h3> +<br> + +<h4>IN WHICH THE MAJOR LEARNS THAT NO MAN IS NECESSARY.</h4> + +<p>For six days Troy continued to rejoice, winding up each day with a +dance. We will content ourselves, however, with one last extract +from <i>The Plymouth and Dock Telegraph</i>:</p> + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class = "noindent"> "At noon on Thursday the town assembled again and escorted its + Mayor and Mayoress to the Hymen Hospital, where, in the presence + of a distinguished company, Mrs. Hansombody (ward and heiress of + the late S. Hymen) unveiled a bust of her gallant kinsman, whose + premature heroic death Troy has never ceased to lament. + Sir Felix Felix-Williams made eulogistic reference to the + deceased, remarking on the number of instances by which the late + war had confirmed the truth of the Roman poet's observation that + it is pleasant and seemly to die for one's country. The Mayor + responded on behalf of his amiable lady, whom Sir Felix's + tribute had visibly affected. The sculpture was pronounced to + be a lifelike image, reflecting great credit on the artist, + Mr. Tipping, R.A. The pedestal, five feet in height, is of + polished black Luxulyan granite, and bears name and date with + the words 'Take Him for All in All We shall not Look upon his + Like again.' The bust, executed in plaster of Paris, will be + replaced by marble when funds allow. The crowd dispersed in + silence after the ceremony. Dancing in the street followed at + 6 p.m., and was kept up with spirit for some hours, during which + a large quantity of beer was given away."</p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + +<p>The Major lay in the next room—the casualty ward—and stared up at +the whitewashed ceiling.</p> + +<p>His whole being ached as though, mind and body, he had been set +upon and beaten senseless with bladders. And this was the second +time! Yes—good heavens, how had he deserved it?—the second time! +He remembered, after the disaster off Boulogne—many days after— +awaking to consciousness in his prison bed in the fortress of Givet. +Then, as now, he had lain staring, his whole soul sickened by the +cruel jar of the jest. Hand of fate, was it? Nay, a jocose and +blundering finger, rather, that had flipped him, as a man might flip +a beetle, into the night. Then, as now, his soul had welled up in +sullen indignation. He blamed no one; for in all the stupid chapter +of accidents there was no one to blame. But when the Protestant +chaplain in Givet came to his bed he turned his face to the wall.</p> + +<p>He refused to give his name. He did not understand this blind +malevolence of fate, but he would make no terms with it. He—Solomon +Hymen—had a will of his own and a proper pride. If the world chose +to use him so, after all his services to mankind, let it go and be +damned to it. I tell you, the man had courage.</p> + +<p>If his friends at home valued him, let them seek him out. He had +given them cause enough for gratitude. If not, he asked nothing of +them. In the prison he gave his name as Mr. Solomon.</p> + +<p>Yet he had made two attempts to escape. In the first he ran away +with two comrades as far as Mezieres. Being pursued by the +<i>gens-d'armes</i> there, and called upon to surrender, his companions +had given themselves up. Not so our hero; nor was he secured until +he lay unconscious with a bullet-hole in the cheek. It was this +which ever afterwards affected his speech, the bullet having cut or +partially paralysed some string of the tongue.</p> + +<p>It had been touch-and-go with him; but he recovered, and, passing +henceforward as a desperate character, was drafted south with a dozen +other desperate characters to the gloomy fortress of Briancon. +There, in a second attempt for liberty, a fall from the ramparts had +cost him his leg.</p> + +<p>But worse than all his incarceration had been the final tramp through +France—right away north to Valenciennes; then left-about-turn, three +hundred and fifty miles to Tours; then south-east to Riou; and from +Riou south-west to Bordeaux, where the transport took him off—one of +six transports for about fifteen hundred released prisoners. All the +way, too, on a wooden leg! Heaven knows how bitterly he had come to +hate that leg. Yet his heart, hardened though it was by all this +long adversity, had melted as the <i>Romney</i> transport beat up closer +and closer for England, and at sight of Plymouth heights he had +broken into tears.</p> + +<p>Troy! Troy! After all, Troy would remember him. Though he knew it +brought him nearer to freedom, all that marching through France had +been a weariness eating into his soul. Now a free man, along the +road from Plymouth to Troy he had almost skipped.</p> + +<p>And this had been his homecoming!</p> + +<p>They remembered him. Beyond all his hopes they remembered him. +In their memory he had grown into a Homeric man, a demi-god. He had +only to declare himself.…</p> + +<p>The Major lay on his hospital bed and stared at the ceiling. It was +all very well, but ten years had made a difference—a mighty +difference; a difference which beat all his calculations. It was a +double difference, too; for all the while that he had been shrinking +in self-knowledge, his reputation at home had been expanding like a +cucumber.</p> + +<p>Good Lord! How could he live up to it now? To obey his impulses and +declare himself was simple enough, perhaps; but afterwards—</p> + +<br><p> +He had nearly betrayed himself when Cai Tamblyn—in a queer +straight-cut frock-coat of livery, blue with brass buttons, but +otherwise looking much the same as ever—thrust his head in at the +door.</p> + +<p>In the first shock of astonishment the Major had almost cried out on +him by name.</p> + +<p>"Why—eh?—what are <i>you</i> doing here?" he stammered. Hitherto he had +been waited on by a strange doctor (Hansombody's new partner) and a +nurse whom he had assisted twelve years ago, when she was left a +widow, to set up as a midwife.</p> + +<p>"Might ask the same question of you," said Cai Tamblyn. "I'm the +kew-rator, havin' been Hymen's servant in the old days, and shows +around the visitors, besides dustin' the mementoes—locks of his +bloomin' 'air and the rest of the trash, I looked in to see how you +was a-gettin' on after the palaver. If I'm not wanted I'll go."</p> + +<p>"Don't go."</p> + +<p>"Very well, then, I won't." Mr. Tamblyn took a seat on the edge of an +unoccupied bed, drew from his pocket a knife and a screw of pig-tail +tobacco, sliced off a portion and rubbed it meditatively between his +hands. "I done you a good turn just now," he continued. "Some o' +the company—the womenkind especially—wanted to come in and make a +fuss over you before leavin'."</p> + +<p>"Why should they want to make a fuss over me?"</p> + +<p>"Well you may ask," said Mr. Tamblyn, candidly. "'Tain't a question +of looks, though. There's a kind of female—an' 'tis the commonest +kind, too—can't hear of a man bein' hurt an' put to bed but she +wants to see for herself. 'Tis like the game a female child plays +with a dollies' house. Here they've got a nice little orspital to +amuse 'em, with nice clean blankets an' sheets, an' texteses 'pon the +walls, an' a cupboard full o' real medicines an' splints, and along +comes a real live patient to be put to bed, an' the thing's complete. +Hows'ever, they didn' get no fun out of 'ee to-day, for I told 'em +you was sleepin' peaceful an' not to be disturbed."</p> + +<p>"Thank you." Under pretence of settling down more comfortably +against the pillow, the Major turned his head aside. "Then it seems +you knew this—this—"</p> + +<p>"Hymen? Knew him intimate."</p> + +<p>"What—what sort of man was he?"</p> + +<p>Cai Tamblyn transferred the shreds of tobacco to a pouch made of +pig's bladder, pocketed it, and rubbed his two palms together, +chuckling softly.</p> + +<p>"Look here, I'll show you the bust of 'en if you like; that is"—he +checked himself and added dubiously—"if you're sure it won't excite +you."</p> + +<p>"Excite me?"</p> + +<p>"Sure it won't give you a relapse or something o' the sort? +The woman Snell has stepped down to the Mayor's to wash up after the +light refreshments, and I'm in charge. Prettily she'll blow me up if +she comes back an' finds I've been an' gone an' excited you." +He cleared a space on the wash-stand. "I've no business to be in +here at all, really, talkin' wi' the pashent; but damme, you can't +think what 'tis like, sittin' by yourself in a museum. I wish +sometimes they'd take an' stuff me!"</p> + +<p>He hobbled out and returned grunting under the weight of the bust, +which he set down upon the wash-stand, turning it so that the Major +might have a full view of its features.</p> + +<p>"There!" he exclaimed, drawing back and panting a little.</p> + +<p>"Good heavens!" The Major drew the bed-clothes hurriedly up to his +chin. "Was he—was he like <i>that</i>?"</p> + +<p>"I thank the Lord he was not," Mr. Tamblyn answered, slowly and +piously. "Leavin' out the question o' colour and the material, which +is plaster pallis and terrible crips, and the shortage, which is no +more than the head an' henge of 'en, so to speak, 'tis no more like +the man than <i>you</i> be. And I say again that I thank the Lord for it. +For to have the old feller stuck up in the corner an' glazin' at me +nat'rel as life every time I turned my head would be more than nerves +could stand."</p> + +<p>"You wouldn't wish him back, then, in the flesh?"</p> + +<p>Cai Tamblyn turned around smartly and gazed at the patient, whose +face, however, rested in shadow.</p> + +<p>"Look 'ee here. You've a-been in a French war prison, I hear, but +that's no excuse for talkin' irreligious. The man was blowed to +pieces, I tell you, by a thing called a catamaran, off the coast o' +France; not so much left of 'en as would cover a half-crown piece. +And you ask me if I want 'en back in the flesh!"</p> + +<p>"But suppose that should turn out to be a mistake?" muttered the +Major.</p> + +<p>"Hey?" Cai Tamblyn gave a start. "Oh, I see; you're just puttin' it +so for the sake of argyment. Well, then,"—the old man turned his +quid deliberately—"did you ever hear tell what old Sammy Mennear +said when his wife died an' left him a widow-man? 'I wouldn' ha' lost +my dear Sarah for a hundred pound,' said he; 'an' I dunno as I'd have +her back for five hundred.' That's about the size o't with Hymen, I +reckon—though, mind you, I bear en no grudge. He left me fifty +pound by will, and a hundred an' fifty to a heathen nigger; and how +that can be reconciled with Christian principle I leave you to +answer. But I bear 'en no grudge."</p> + +<p>"What? They proved his will?" The Major stared at his portrait and +shivered.</p> + +<p>"<i>In</i> course they did. The man was blowed to pieces, I tell you. +'Tis written up on the pedestal. 'Take 'en for all in all'—or piece +by piece, they might ha' said, for that matter—'we shall not look +upon his like agen.' No, nor they don't want to, for all their +speechifyin'. I ain't what the parson calls a <i>pessimist</i>; I thinks +poorly o' most things, that's all; <i>and</i> folks; and I say they don't +want to. Why, one way and another, he left close on twelve thousand +pound!"</p> + +<p>The Major drew the bed-clothes maybe an inch farther over his chin +and so lay still, answering nothing, his eyes fastened on the bust. +Beneath its hyacinthine curls it beamed on him with a fixed +benevolent smile.</p> + +<p>"Not that Hymen hadn't decent qualities, mind you," Cai Tamblyn +continued. "The fellow was plucky, and well-meanin', too, in his +way; and a better master you wouldn't find in a day's march. What he +suffered from was wind in his stomach. With all the women settin' +their caps at him he couldn't help it: but so 'twas. And the men +were a'most as bad. Just you hearken to this—"</p> + +<p>Cai seated himself on the edge of the bed again, felt in his +breast-pocket and drew out a spectacle-case and a folded pocket-book; +adjusted the spectacles on his nose, slapped the pocket-book +viciously, spread it on his knee, cleared his throat, and began to +read:</p> + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class = "noindent"> "'As a boy he was studious in his habits, shy in company, + unflinchingly truthful, and fond of animals. For obvious + reasons these pets of his childhood are unrepresented among the + memorials so piously preserved in the Hymen Museum; but through + the kindness of our esteemed townswoman, Mrs. (or, as she is + commonly called, 'Mother') Hancock, aged ninety-one, we are able + to include in our collection a marble of the kind known as + 'glass-alley,' with which she avers that, at the age of ten or + thereabouts, our future hero disported himself. It must have + been by some premonition that the venerable lady cherished it, + having received it originally, as she remembers, in barter for a + pennyworth of saffron cake, a species of delicacy to which the + youthful Solomon was pardonably addicted.…'</p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + +<p>"I got to show that damned glass-alley," interjected Mr. Tamblyn. +"Why? Because a man past work can't stay his belly on the interest +o' fifty pound. Oh, but there's more about it:</p> + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class = "noindent"> "'The cobble-stones with which the streets of Troy are paved do + not lend themselves readily to expertness in shooting with + marbles. But the subject of this memoir was ever one who, + adapting himself to difficulties, rose superior to them. + The glass material of which the relic is composed shows numerous + indentations in its spherical outline, eloquent testimony to the + character which had already begun to learn the lesson of + greatness and by perseverance to bend circumstances to its will. + In the case containing this relic, and beside it, reposes a + horn-book, used for many generations in the Troy Infant School, + conducted A.D. 1739-1782 by Miss Sleeman, schoolmistress. + Although we have no positive evidence, there is every reason to + believe that the youthful Solomon—' +</blockquote></blockquote> +<p>"Ain't it enough to make a man sick?" demanded Cai Tamblyn, looking +up. "And I got to speak this truck, day in an' day out."</p> + +<p>"Who wrote it?"</p> + +<p>"Hansombody. Oh, I ain't denyin' he was well paid. But when I see'd +Miss Marty this very afternoon, unwrappin' the bust with tears in her +eyes, an' her husband standin' by as modest as Moll at a christenin', +and him the richer by thousands—"</p> + +<p>"WHAT?"</p> + +<p>The Major, despite his hurt, had risen on his elbow. Cai Tamblyn, +too, bounced up.</p> + +<p>"The Mayor, I'm talkin' of—Dr. Hansombody," he stammered, gating +into the invalid's face in dismay.</p> + +<p>So, for ten slow seconds or so, they eyed one another. Speech began +to work in Cai Tamblyn's throat, but none came. He cast one +bewildered, incredulous, horror-stricken glance back from the face on +the bed to the fatuously smiling face on the washhand stand, and with +that—for the Major had picked up his pillow and was poising to hurl +it—flung his person between them, cast both arms about the bust, +lifted it, and tottered from the room.</p> + + +<br> +<br> +<p><a name="22"></a> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXI.</h3> +<br> + + +<h4>FACES IN WATER.</h4> + +<p>"Eh? Wants to get up, does he?"</p> + +<p>Dr. Hansombody during the last year or two had gradually withdrawn +himself from professional cares, relinquishing them to his young and +energetic assistant, Mr. Olver. Magisterial and other public +business claimed more and more of the time he more and more +grudgingly spared from domestic felicity and the business of +rearranging his entomological cabinet. He had found himself, early +in his third term of mayoral office, the father of a bouncing boy. +A silver cradle, the gift of the borough, decorated his sideboard. +As for the moths and butterflies, he designed to bequeath them, under +the title of "The Hansombody Collection," to the town. They would +find a last resting-place in the Hymen Museum, and so his name would +go down to posterity linked with that of his distinguished friend. +This was the first visit he had paid to the stranger's bedside; and +even now he had only stepped in, at his assistant's request, from the +next room, where for half an hour he had been engaged with Cai +Tamblyn in choosing a position for the first case of butterflies.</p> + +<p>"Wants to get up, does he?" asked the Doctor absently, after a +perfunctory look at the patient. "Restless, eh?" He still carried in +his hand the two-foot rule with which he had been taking +measurements. "You've tried a change of diet?"</p> + +<p>"I fancy," Mr. Olver suggested, "he is worried by the number of +visitors—ladies especially."</p> + +<p>"Georgiana Pescod has been worrying?"</p> + +<p>The patient lifted his right hand from the bed and spread out all its +fingers; lifted his left, and spread out three more.</p> + +<p>"What? Eight visits?"</p> + +<p>"And that's not the worst of it," put in the Nurse, Mrs. Snell, +sympathetically, smoothing the coverlet. "First and last there's +been forty-two in these six days. It can't be for his looks, as I +tell en; and his name bein' Solomon won't account for the whole of +it."</p> + +<p>"I sometimes think," said the Doctor pensively and with entire +gravity, turning to his assistant, "we shall have to diminish the +numbers of the Visiting Committee. My dear friend Hymen planned it, +in years gone by, on a war footing; and even so I remember suggesting +to him at the time that the scale was somewhat—er—grandiose. +But it was characteristic of him, and we have clung to it for that +reason, in a spirit perhaps <i>too</i> piously conservative. Forty-two +ladies! My good fellow"—he turned to the patient—"I really think— +if your leg is equal to it—a short stroll in the fresh air may be +permitted. Pray do not think we desire to hurry your cure. +Even setting aside the dictates of charity, and our natural +tenderness towards one who, as I understand, has bled for our common +country, we owe you something"—the Major's fingers plucked nervously +at the bed-clothes—"some reparation," the Doctor went on, "for +the—er—character of your reception. In short, I hope, on your +complete recovery, to find you some steady employment, such as too +many of our returning heroes are at this moment seeking in vain. +In the meanwhile our town has some lions which may amuse your +convalescence—a figurative term, meaning objects of interest."</p> + +<p>Once or twice, in the course of his first stroll, the Major's eyes +came near to brimming with tears. The town itself had suffered +surprisingly little change. The Collector—he seemed scarcely a day +older—stood as of old at the head of the Custom House stairs, and +surveyed the world benignly with his thumbs in the arm-holes of his +waistcoat. Before the Major's own doorway the myrtles were in bloom, +and a few China roses on the well-trimmed standards. By the Broad +Ship as of old his nostrils caught the odours of tar and hemp with a +whiff of smoke from a schooner's galley (the <i>Ranting Blade</i>, with +her figure-head repainted, but otherwise much the same as ever). +Miss Jex, the postmistress, still peered over her blind. She studied +the Major's wooden leg with interest. He, on his part, seemed to +detect that the down on her upper lip had sensibly lightened in +colour. <i>En revanche</i>, from the corner of his eye, as he passed the +open door, he saw that the portrait over the counter (supposed of +yore to represent the Prince Regent) wore a frame of black ribbon. +The black, alas! was rusty.</p> + +<p>The manners of the children had not improved. Half a dozen urchins, +running into him here by the corner of the post-office on their way +from school, fell back in a ring and began to call "Boney!" +derisively. He escaped from them into the churchyard, and passing up +between the graves, rested for a while, panting in the cool of the +porch.</p> + +<p>The door stood ajar. Pushing it open, he stepped within and paused +again, half terrified by the unfamiliar <i>tap-tap</i> of his wooden leg +on the pavement. The sunshine lay in soft panels of light across the +floor, and ran in sharper lines along the tops of the pews, worn to a +polish by generations of hands that had opened and shut their doors. +Aloft, where the rays filtered through the clerestory windows, their +innumerable motes swam like gold-dust held in solution.</p> + +<p>The Major found his own pew, dropped into the familiar seat, and +strove to collect his thoughts. A week ago, on his way from +Plymouth, it had seemed the easiest thing in the world to reveal +himself and step back into his own. The only question had been how +to select the most impressive moment.</p> + +<p>His eyes, travelling along the wall on his right, encountered an +unfamiliar monument among the many familiar ones; an oval slab of +black marble enclosed in a gilt wreath and inscribed with gilt +lettering. He leaned forward, peering closer, blinking against the +sunlight that poured through the window.</p> + + <h4> SACRED</h4> + <h4>TO THE MEMORY OF</h4> + <h4>SOLOMON HYMEN, ESQUIRE</h4> + <h4>SEVEN TIMES MAYOR OF THIS BOROUGH</h4> + <h4>AND</h4> + <h4>MAJOR COMMANDING THE TROY VOLUNTEER ARTILLERY</h4> + <h4>UNFORTUNATELY AND UNTIMELY</h4> + <h4>SLAIN IN ACTION</h4> + <h4>OFF THE COAST OF FRANCE NEAR BOULOGNE</h4> + <h4>ON MAY 15TH, MDCCCIV.</h4> + <h4>THIS TABLET WAS ERECTED BY SUBSCRIPTION</h4> + <h4>AMONG HIS SORROWING FRIENDS AND FELLOW CITIZENS</h4> + <h4>OF THE BOROUGH HE, LIVING, ADORNED WITH HIS WISDOM</h4> + <h4>AND DYING, ENDOWED WITH HIS WEALTH</h4> + <h4>AS WITH HIS EXAMPLE.</h4> + <h4>FORTIBUS ET COELUM PATRIA</h4> + +<p>He spelled out the inscription slowly, and, turning at the sound of a +footstep in the porch, was aware of a tall figure in the doorway—his +own faithful Scipio.</p> + +<p>Least of all was Scipio changed. Ten years apparently had not even +tarnished his livery. It shone in its accustomed scarlet and green +and gold in the rays which, falling through the windows of the south +aisle, lit up his white teeth and his habitual gentle grin.</p> + +<p>"Mistah will be studyin' de board—berry fine board. Not so fine +board in Cornwall, dey tell me."</p> + +<p>The Major turned his face, avoiding recognition.</p> + +<p>"No, not dat; dat's modern trash," went on Scipio, affably, following +his gaze. "Good man, all same, Massa Hymen; lef plenty money. +One hundred fifty pound. Lef Cai Tamblyn fifty. Every person say +remarkable difference. But doan' you look at <i>him</i>; he's modern +trash. Massa Hymen lef' me <i>one</i> hundred fifty pound. Dat all go to +board up yonder, you see; 'Scipio Johnson, Esquire, of this Parish' +in red letters an' gilt twirls. I doan' mind tellin' you. De hull +parish an' Lawyer Chinn has it drafted—Vicar he promises me it shall +go in—'Scipio Johnson, Esquire, <i>of</i> this Parish,' an' twiddles +round de capital letters. Man, I served Mas' Hymen han' an' foot, +wet an' dry, an' look like he las' anudder twenty year."</p> + +<p>"You mean to say that I—that you, I mean—"</p> + +<p>"Dat's so," put in Scipio, nodding cheerfully, while the +stained-glass windows flung flecks of red and blue on his honest +ebony features. "An' Cai Tamblyn all de while no better'n a fool. +'<i>Him</i>,' he'd sneer, not playin' up, but pullin' his cross face. +Dat's a lesson if ebber dere was one. Cai Tamblyn left with fifty, +an' me with three time fifty. 'To my faithful servant, Scipio +Johnson.…' And so Miss Marty, when it came to choose, took me +on—Scipio Johnson, Esquire, of this Parish—and Cai Tamblyn no more +than 'Mister,' nor ebber a hope of it."</p> + +<br><p> +The Major found himself in the churchyard, staring at a headstone. +He did not remember the stone, yet it seemed by no means a new one. +Weather-stains ran down the lettering and lichen spotted it.</p> + +<p>He read the name. It was the name of a man whom he had left hale and +young—a promising corporal.</p> + +<p>He made his way back slowly to the hospital, leaning heavily on his +stick. Strange shrill noises brought him to a halt on the threshold. +They came from the back of the house.</p> + +<p>At the sound of his wooden leg in the brick passage, Cai Tamblyn +thrust his head out from the kitchen doorway.</p> + +<p>"You come in," said he. "Please the Lord, the worst is over; but I +had to tell her."</p> + +<p>"Her?" echoed the Major in bewilderment. "Who?"</p> + +<p>"Why, you see, fixed up as we were here—the woman with six empty +beds to nurse, and me on 'tother side with a roomful o' momentoes, +an' no end to it but the grave—there seemed no way out but +matterimony. What with my fifty an' her little savin's we might ha' +managed it, too, comfertable enough. But when along comes you an' +upsets the apple-cart, w'y, in justice, the woman had to be told. +Which it took her like a slap in the wind, an' I'm surprised the way +she'd set her heart on it. But never you mind; she's sensible enough +when she comes round."</p> + +<p>"Cai," said the Major, solemnly, "I thought we had agreed that no one +was to be told?"</p> + +<p>"So we did, sir," answered Mr. Tamblyn, setting his jaw. "But, come +to think it over, 'twasn't fair to the woman. Not bein' a married +man yourself, sir, or as good as such—"</p> + +<p>"Excuse me," said the Major, lifting a hand. "I quite well +understand. But suppose that I have not come back after all!"</p> + + +<br> +<br> +<p><a name="23"></a> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXII.</h3> +<br> + +<h4>WINDS UP WITH A MERRY-GO-ROUND.</h4> + +<p>Troy on a Regatta Day differs astonishingly from Troy on any other +day in the year, and yet until you have seen us on a Regatta Day you +have not seen Troy.</p> + +<p>Once every August, on a Monday afternoon, the frenzy descends upon +us; and then for three days we dress our town in bunting and bang +starting guns and finishing guns, and put on fancy dresses, and march +in procession with Japanese lanterns, and dance, and stare at +pyrotechnical displays. But the centre, the pivot, the axis of our +revelry is always the merry-go-round on the Town Quay.</p> + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class = "noindent"> "The merry-go-round, the merry-go-round,<br> + the merry-go-round at Troy,<br> + They whirl around, they gallop around,<br> + man, woman, and maid and boy!"</p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + +<p>Yachtsmen, visitors, farmers and country wives, sober citizens and +mothers of families, all meet centripetally and mount and are +whirled to the mad strains of the barrel-organ under the flaming +naphtha, around the revolving pillar where the mirrored images chase +one another too quickly for thought to answer their reflections. +We make no toil of our pleasure; yet, if you will mark the +distinction, it keeps us hard at work, and reflection must wait until +Thursday morning. Then we dismiss the yachts on their Channel race +westward. We fire the last gun, pull down the blue Peter, and off +they go. We draw a long breath, stow away our remaining blank +cartridges, pocket the stopwatch, heap the recall numbers together, +and, having redded up the jolly-boat, light our pipes and sit and +gaze awhile after our retreating visitors. They go from us silent as +great white moths; but, silent themselves, they take, as they +brought, all the noise and racket with them. Our revel is over; +behind us the harbour lies almost deserted, and we row back to our +diurnal peace.</p> + +<p>To be sure, in the days of which I write, there were no yachts to +visit us. But three of His Majesty's training-brigs had arrived, +bringing their gigs and long-boats, and sailing cutters, with the +racing-shells in which the oarsmen of Dock were to do battle with our +champions of Troy, and a couple of crews of the famous Saltash +fishwomen who annually gave us an exhibition race for a purse of gold +and in the evening danced quadrilles and country reels on the +quarter-deck with His Majesty's officers.</p> + +<p>The town, on its part, had made all due and zealous preparations; and +at eight o'clock in the morning, when the Major stepped out of the +hospital for a look at the weather (which was hazy but warm, with +promise of a cloudless noon), already the streets breathed festival. +Sir Felix's coppices had been thinned as usual for the occasion, and +scores of small saplings, larch and beech and hazel, lined the narrow +streets, their sharpened stems planted between the cobbles, their +leafy tops braced back against the house-fronts and stayed with ropes +which, leading through the upper windows, were made fast within to +bars of grates, table-legs and bed-posts. Over them, from house to +house, strings of flags waved in the light morning breeze, and over +these again the air was jocund with the distant tunding of a drum and +the voices of flute and clarionet calling men to mirth in the Town +Square.</p> + +<p>The Major gave a glance up and down the street and retired indoors to +prepare his breakfast, for he was alone. Cai Tamblyn and the widow +Snell had the day before departed—on their honeymoon.</p> + +<p>To arrange that his honeymoon should take him from Troy on the day of +all days to which every other soul in the town looked forward, was +quite of a piece with Cai Tamblyn's sardonic humour. But he surely +excelled himself when, the day before his marriage, he called on the +Mayor and begged leave to appoint the patient in the hospital as his +<i>locum tenens</i> for the week.</p> + +<p>"The man's well enough to look after the place," he urged; "and you +won't find him neglectin' it to go gaddin' round the shows. A wooden +leg's a wonderful steadier at fair-times." And the Doctor assented.</p> + +<p>It were too much to say that his appointment, when Cai Tamblyn +reported it, touched our hero's sense of humour, for he had none; but +he winced under the dreadful irony of it.</p> + +<p>"Do you know what you're asking?" he cried. "Suppose that visitors +call—as they will. Would you have me show them round and point out +my own relics?"</p> + +<p>"Damme, and I thought I was givin' you a bit o' fun!" said Cai, +scratching his head. "It can't be often a man finds hisself in your +position; and in the old days when you got hold of a rarity you liked +to make the most of it."</p> + +<p>"Fun!" echoed the Major. "And you'd have me reel off all those +reminiscences—all the sickening praise, yard by yard, out of that +infernal hand-book!"</p> + +<p>Cai Tamblyn eyed him gravely.</p> + +<p>"You don't like that neither?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Like it!" the poor man echoed again, sank into a chair, and, +shuddering, covered his face. "It makes my soul creep with shame."</p> + +<p>Silence followed for a dozen long seconds.</p> + +<p>"Master!"</p> + +<p>The Major shuddered again, but looked up a moment later with tears in +his eyes as Cai laid a hand kindly yet respectfully on his shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Master, I ax your pardon." He stepped back and paused, seeming +to swallow some words in his throat before he spoke again. +"You're a long way more of a man than ever I gave 'ee credit to be. +Twelve year I passed in your service, too; an' I take ye to witness +that 'twas Cai Tamblyn an' not Scipio Johnson that knawed 'ee agen, +for all the change in your faytures. Whereby you misjudged us, sir, +when you left me fifty pound and that nigger a hundred an' fifty. +Whereby I misjudged ye in turn, an' I ax your pardon."</p> + +<p>"No, Cai; you judged me truly enough, if severely. There was a time +when I'd have fed myself on those praises that now sicken me."</p> + +<p>"An' you was happy in them days."</p> + +<p>"Yes, happy enough."</p> + +<p>"Would you have 'em back, master?"</p> + +<p>"Would I have them back?" The Major straightened himself up and +stood for a moment staring out of the window. "No, Cai," he said +resolutely, squaring his chin; "not for worlds."</p> + +<p>"There's one little bit of it, sir, you got to have back," said Cai; +"an' that's my fifty pound."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense, man. I sha'n't hear of it."</p> + +<p>"I've a-talked it over wi' the woman, an' she's agreeable. She says +'tis the only right an' proper thing to be done."</p> + +<p>"She may be as agreeable as—as you deserve, Cai; but I tell you I +don't touch a penny of it. And you may have formed your own opinion +of me during twelve years of service, but in all that time I don't +think you ever knew me go back on my word."</p> + +<p>"That's truth, sir," Cai admitted, scratching his head again; +"and more by token, 'tis about the only thing the book has forgot to +praise 'ee for."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps," said the Major, in his bitterness almost achieving a +witticism, "the author felt 'twould be out of place."</p> + +<p>"But all this apart, sir, I don't see how you'll get along without +money."</p> + +<p>"Make your mind easy on that score, my friend. I rather fancy that +I'm provided for; but if that should prove to be a mistake, I may +come to you for advice."</p> + +<p>"Marryin'?" queried Cai. "But no; with a wooden leg—you'll excuse +me—"</p> + +<p>"Devil take the man! <i>You</i> can't argue that womenkind are +squeamish."</p> + +<p>Cai grinned, "You'll take on this little job, anyway, sir? I can't +very well go to his Worship an' beg you off; it might set him +suspectin'."</p> + +<p>"I'll take the job," said the Major, hastily.</p> + +<p>"Brayvo! But what I'd like to do"—Cai rubbed his chin +reflectively—"is to get that cussed book written over agen, an' +written different."</p> + +<p>"Give it time," his master answered sadly. "Maybe even that is a job +that will get itself done one of these days."</p> + +<p>Cai and his bride had departed, and the Major faced the ordeal of +Regatta Day with much trepidation. Heaven help him to play his part +like a man!</p> + +<p>But it appeared that the sightseers, who, as ever, began to pour into +the town at nine in the morning and passed the door in one steady, +continuous stream until long past noonday, had either seen the Hymen +Hospital before or were intent first on culling the more evanescent +pleasures of the day. In fact, no visitor troubled him until one +o'clock, when, in the lull between the starts of the sailing and the +rowing races, and while the Regatta Committee was dining ashore to +the strains of a brass band, a farm labourer in his Sunday best, +crowned with a sugar-loaf hat, entered, flung himself into a chair, +and demanded to have a tooth extracted.</p> + +<p>"You needn' mind which," he added encouragingly; "they all aches at +times. Only don't let it be more than one, for I can't afford it. +I been countin' up how to lay out my money, an' I got sixpence over; +an' it can't be in beer, because I promised the missus."</p> + +<p>The Major assured him that the extraction of a tooth or teeth did not +fall within the sphere of the hospital's provision.</p> + +<p>"W'y not?" asked the countryman, and added coaxingly, "Just to pass +the time, now!"</p> + +<p>"Not even to pass the time," the Major answered with firmness.</p> + +<p>"Very well," said the man resignedly. "If you won't, you won't; but +let's while it away somehow. Give me a black draught."</p> + +<p>At rare intervals from three o'clock till five other country +folk dropped in, two or three (once even half a dozen) at a time. +As a show the Hymen Hospital and Museum appeared to have outlived +its vogue. The male visitors, one and all, removed their hats on +entering, and spoke in constrained tones as if in church. +To the Major's relief, no one asked him to recite from the book, and +the questions put to him were of the simplest. A farm maiden from +the country requested that the bust might be wound up.</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon?"</p> + +<p>"You don't tell me there isn' no music inside!" the maiden exclaimed. +"What's it <i>for,</i> then?"</p> + +<p>With difficulty the Major explained the purpose and also the limits +of statuary. The girl turned to her swain with a <i>moue</i> of disgust.</p> + +<p>"It's my belief," she reproached him, "you brought me here out of +stinginess, pretending not to notice when we passed the waxworks, +which is only tuppence, and real murderers with their chests a-rising +an' fallin', as Maria's young man treated her to a last Regatta; an' +a Sleepin' Beauty with a clockwork song inside like distant angels."</p> + +<p>But at five o'clock, or thereabouts, arrived no less a personage than +Sir Felix Felix-Williams himself, gallantly escorting a couple of +ladies whom he had piloted through the various rustic sights of the +fair.</p> + +<p>"O—oof!" panted Sir Felix, gaining the cool passage and mopping his +brow. "A veritable haven of rest after the dust and din! Hallo, my +good man, are you the caretaker for the day? I don't seem to +recollect your face.… Eh? No? Well, show us round, please. +These ladies are curious to know something of our local hero."</p> + +<p>The Major, his wooden leg trembling, opened the door of the Museum. +The ladies put up their eye-glasses and gazed around, while Sir Felix +dusted his coat.</p> + +<p>"Hymen, his name was. That's his bust yonder," Sir Felix explained, +flicking at his collar with his handkerchief. "A very decent body; a +retired linen-draper, if I remember, from somewhere in the City, +where he put together quite a tidy sum of money. Came home and spent +it in his native town, where for years he was quite a big-wig. +But our friend here has a book about him, written up by the +apothecary of the place. Isn't that so?" he appealed to the Major, +who drew the document from his pocket with shaking fingers.</p> + +<p>"Eh? I thought so," went on Sir Felix. "But spare us the +long-winded passages, my friend. Just a few particulars to satisfy +the ladies, who, on this their first visit to Cornwall, are good +enough to be inquisitive <i>a folie</i> about us—about Troy especially."</p> + +<p>"But it is ravishing—quite ravishing!" declared one of the ladies.</p> + +<p>"A duck of a place!" cried the other, inspecting the bust. "And see, +Sophronia, what a duck of a man! And you say he was only a +linen-draper?" She turned to Sir Felix.</p> + +<p>"But all the Cornish are gentlemen—didn't Queen Elizabeth or +somebody say something of the sort?" chimed in the first. +"And the place kept as neat as a pin, I protest!"</p> + +<p>"Gentlemen in their own conceit, I fear," Sir Felix answered. +"But this fellow was, on the whole, a very decent fellow. Success, +or what passes for it in a small country town, never turned his head. +He had a foible, I'm told, on the strength of a likeness (you'll be +amused) to the Prince Regent. But, so far as I observed, he knew how +to conduct himself towards his—er—superiors. I had quite a respect +for him. Yes, begad, quite a respect."</p> + +<p>"I think, sir," said the Major, controlling his voice, "since you ask +me to select a passage, this may interest the ladies:</p> + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class = "noindent"> "'But perhaps the most remarkable trait in the subject of our + memoir was his invariable magnanimity, which alone persuaded + all who met him that they had to deal with no ordinary man. + It is related of him that once in childhood, having been pecked + in the leg by a gander, he was found weeping rather at the + aggressive insolence of the fowl (with which he had + good-naturedly endeavoured to make friends) than at the trivial + hurt received by his own boyish calves.'"</p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + +<p>The ladies laughed, and Sir Felix joined in uproariously.</p> + +<p>"How deliciously quaint!" exclaimed the one her friend had addressed +as Sophronia. "What rural detail!"</p> + +<p>"The very word. Quaint—devilish quaint!" Sir Felix agreed. +"We <i>are</i> devilish quaint in these parts."</p> + +<p>The Major turned a page:</p> + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class = "noindent"> "'So far as inquiry lifts the curtain over the closing scene, it + was marked by a similar calm forgetfulness of self in the higher + interests of his Sovereign, his Country, the British Race. + If enemies he had, he forgave them. Attending only to his + country's call for volunteers to defend her shores, he followed + it in the least conspicuous manner, and fell; leaving at once an + example and a reproach to those who, living at home in ease, + enjoyed the protection of spirits better conscious of the + destinies and duties of Englishmen.'"</p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + +<p>"Gad, and so he did!" Sir Felix exclaimed. "I remember thinking +something of the sort at the time and doubling my subscription." +He yawned. "Shall we go, ladies?" he asked. "I assure you there is +no time to be lost if you wish to see the menagerie."</p> + +<p>But when the ladies were in the passage, the Major half-closed the +door, shutting Sir Felix off.</p> + +<p>"May I have just one word with you, sir? I will not detain you more +than a moment."</p> + +<p>"Eh?" said Sir Felix, and pulled out a shilling. "Is that what +you're after? Well, I'm glad you had the delicacy to let the ladies +pass out first. They think us an unsophisticated folk."</p> + +<p>The Major waved the coin aside. He planted himself on his wooden +leg, with his back to the door, and faced the baronet.</p> + +<p>"I just want to tell you," he said quietly, "that the whole of what I +read was a lie."</p> + +<p>"Naturally, my good fellow. One allows for that in those memoirs."</p> + +<p>"The man, except in parable, was never bitten by a gander in his +life," persisted the Major. "Nor did he enlist and fall—if he +fell—through any magnanimous motive. He just left Troy on finding +himself betrayed by a neighbour—a dirty, little, mean-spirited, +pompous gander of a neighbour—and whatever example he may have +unwittingly—yes, and unwillingly—set, the lesson does not appear to +have been learnt—at least, until this moment. But," concluded the +Major, throwing wide the door, "we keep the ladies waiting, Sir +Felix."</p> + +<p>Sir Felix, ordinarily the most irascible of men, gasped once and +passed out, cowed, beaten, utterly and hopelessly bewildered. +The Major stood by the door with chest inflated as it had not been +inflated for ten years and more.</p> + +<p>Perhaps this inflation of the chest, reviving old recollections, +prompted him to do what next he did. Otherwise I confess I cannot +account for it. He stepped back from the door and looked around the +room, emitting a long breath. Outside the window the dusk was +already descending on the street. Within a glass-fronted cupboard in +the corner, hung his old uniform, sword, epaulettes and cocked hat; +above the mantelpiece a looking-glass.</p> + +<p>He stepped to the cupboard, opened it, and took down the time-rotten +regimentals. Slowly, very slowly, he divested himself of his +clothes, and, piece by piece, indued himself in the old finery.</p> + +<p>At the breeches he paused; then drew them on hastily over his wooden +leg, and left them unbuttoned at the knees while he thrust his arms +into coat and waistcoat. Prison fare had reduced his waist, and the +garments hung limply about him. But the breeches were worst. +Around his wooden leg the buttons would not meet at all. And what to +do with the gaiter?</p> + +<p>Methodically he unstrapped the leg and regarded it. Heavens! how for +these three years past he had hated it! He looked up. From the far +side of the room the bust watched him, still with its fatuous smile.</p> + +<p>He rose in a sudden access of passion, gripping the leg, taking aim. +… A slight noise in the passage arrested him, and, leaning +against the door-jamb, he peered out. It was the woman with the +evening's milk, and she had set down the jug in the passage.</p> + +<p>He closed the door, swayed a moment, and with a spring off his sound +leg, leapt on the still grinning bust and smote at it, crashing it +into pieces.</p> + +<br><p> +Mrs. Tiddy, the milkwoman, ran home declaring that, in the act of +delivering the usual two pennyworth at the hospital, she had seen the +ghost of the Major himself, in full regimentals, in the act of +assaulting his own statue; which, sure enough, was found next morning +scattered all over the floor.</p> + +<br><p> +The crash of it recalled the Major to his senses. He stared down on +the fragments at his feet. He had burnt his boats now.</p> + +<p>As methodically as he had indued them he divested himself of his +regimentals, and so, having slipped into his old clothes again and +strapped on his leg, stumped resolutely forth into the street.</p> + +<p>Cai Tamblyn, like every other Trojan, kept a boat of his own; and on +the eve of departing he had placed her at the Major's disposal. +She lay moored by a frape off a semi-public quay door, approached +from the Fore Street by a narrow alley known as Cherry's (or +Charity's) Court.</p> + +<p>The Major stumped down to the waterside in the fast gathering dusk +and hauled in the boat. Luckily the tide was high, and reached +within four feet of the sill of the doorway; luckily, I say, because +few contrivances in this world are less compatible than a ladder and +a wooden leg. The tide being high, however, he managed to scramble +down and on board without much difficulty; unmoored, shipped a paddle +in the sculling-notch over the boat's stern, and very quietly worked +her up and alongshore, in the shadow of the waterside houses.</p> + +<p>Arrived at the quay-ladder leading up to Dr. Hansombody's garden— +once, alas! his own—and to the terrace consecrated by memories of +the green-sealed Madeira, he checked the boat's way and looked up for +a moment, listening. Hearing no sound, he slipped the painter around +a rung, made fast with a hitch, and cautiously, very cautiously, +pulled himself up the ladder, bringing his eyes level with the sill +of the open door.</p> + +<p>Heaven be praised! the little garden was empty. A moment later he +had heaved himself on to the sill and was crawling along the terrace.</p> + +<p>At the end of the terrace, in a dark corner by the wall, grew a +stunted fig-tree, its roots set among the flagstones, its boughs +overhanging the tide; and by the roots, between the bole of the trees +and the wall, one of the flagstones had a notch in its edge, a notch +in old days cunningly concealed, the trick of it known only to the +Major.</p> + +<p>He drew out a small marlingspike which he carried in a sheath at his +hip, and, bending over the flagstone, felt for the notch; found it, +inserted the point, and began to prise, glancing, as he worked, over +his shoulder at the windows of the house. A lamp shone in one. +… So much the better. If the room had an inmate, the lamp would +make it harder for him or her to see what went on in the dim garden. +Ten years.… Could his hoard have lain all that time undisturbed? +He had hidden it in the old days of the invasion-scare, as many a +citizen had made secret deposit against emergencies. Banks were +novelties in those days. Who knew what might happen to a bank, if +Boney landed?</p> + +<p>But ten years… a long time… and yet to all appearances the +stone had not been tampered with. He levered it up and thrust it +aside.</p> + +<p>No! There the bags lay amid the earth! Two bags, and a hundred +guineas in each! He clutched and felt their full round sides. Yes, +yes, they were full, as he had left them!</p> + +<p>WHO-OOSH!</p> + +<p>Heavens! What was <i>that</i>?</p> + +<p>The Major gripped his bags and was preparing to run; but, an instant +later, cowered low, and backed into the fig-tree's shadow as the +whole sky leapt into flame and shook with a terrific detonation.</p> + +<p>The Regatta fireworks had begun.</p> + +<p>Across the little garden a window went up.</p> + +<p>"My dear," said a voice (the Doctor's), "bring the child to look, if +he won't be frightened."</p> + +<p>In the window they stood, all three—the Doctor, "Miss Marty," the +child—a happy domestic group, framed there with the lamp behind +them. Deep as he could squeeze himself back into the shadow, the +Major cowered and watched them.</p> + +<p>The child crowed and leapt with delight. His father and mother +looked down at him, then at one another, and laughed happily. +Alas! poor Major!</p> + +<p>They had no eyes to search the garden. What should they suspect, +those two, there in the warm circle of the lamp, wrapped in their own +security?</p> + +<p>The rockets ceased to blaze and bang. At length the heavens resumed +their dark peace, and the distant barrel-organ reasserted itself from +the Town Quay. The child's voice demanded more, but his father +closed the window and drew the curtain close. Panting hard, his brow +clammy with sweat, the Major stole forth and down to the boat with +his poor spoils.</p> + +<p>Half an hour later he found himself in the crowd, his pockets +weighted with guineas. Whither should he go? In what direction set +his face? Eastward for Plymouth, or westward for Falmouth? +He roamed the streets, letting the throng of merrymakers carry him +for the while as it willed; and it ended, of course (you may make the +experiment for yourself on a regatta night), in carrying him to the +merry-go-round on the Town Quay.</p> + +<p>He stared at it stupidly, his hands in his bulging pockets. +He feared no thieves. To begin with, his appearance was not +calculated to invite the attention of pickpockets, and moreover, +there are none in Troy. He stared at the whirling horses, the +blazing naphtha jets, the revolving mirrors, the laughing, +irresponsible faces as they swept by and away again, and reappeared +and once again passed laughing thither where, on the farther side of +the circle, brooded (as it seemed to him) a great shadow of darkness.</p> + +<p>Suddenly his heart stood still, and his few hairs stiffened under his +tarpaulin hat. That sailor, riding with a happy grin on his face, +and his face towards his horse's tail! Surely not—surely it could +not be…? But as the sailor whirled round into view again, it +surely was Ben Jope!</p> + +<p>The music and the merry-go-round slowed down together and came to a +standstill. A score of riders clambered off, and a score of +onlookers surged up and took their places. The Major ran with them, +pushing his way to the far side of the circle where Mr. Jope's horse +had come to a stop. He arrived, but too late. Mr. Jope had +disappeared.</p> + +<p>A moment later, however, the Major caught sight of him, elbowing his +way through the gut of a narrow lane leading off the Quay by the +fish-market, and gave chase. But the weight in his pockets +handicapped him, and the crowd seemed to take a malicious delight in +blocking his way.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless he kept his quarry in sight. A dozen times at least Mr. +Jope halted before a shop or a booth and dallied, staring, but ever +on the point of capture he would start off again, threading the +throng with extreme nimbleness. With a dexterity as marvellous as it +was unconscious, he dodged his pursuer past the Broad Ship, up Custom +House Hill, along Passage Street, out through the Tollway Arch and +among the greater shows—the menagerie, the marionettes, the +travelling theatre—all in full blast, almost to the extreme edge of +the fair, where it melted into the darkness of the woods and the high +road winding up between them into open country. Here, hanging on his +heel for a moment, he appeared to make a final choice between these +many attractions, and dived into a booth over which a flaming board +announced a conjuring entertainment by Professor Boscoboglio,— +"Prestidigitateur to the Allied Sovereigns."</p> + +<p>The Major spied Mr. Jope's broad back as he dipped and entered +beneath the flap of the tent; and followed, elate at having run his +quarry to earth. A stout woman, seated at the entrance beside a drum +on which she counted her change, thrust out an arm of no mean +proportions to block his entrance, and demanded twopence, fee for +admission.</p> + +<p>The Major, who had forgotten this formality, dipped his hand into his +breeches pocket and tendered her a guinea. She eyed it suspiciously, +took it, rang it on the lid of her money-box, and, recognising it for +a genuine coin, at once transferred her suspicions to him.</p> + +<p>"Tuppence out of a guinea?" she sniffed. "Not likely, with a man of +<i>your</i> looks."</p> + +<p>"It's genuine, ma'am."</p> + +<p>"I ain't a fool," answered the lady. "I was wondering how you came +by it. Well, anyway, I can't give you change; so take yourself off, +please."</p> + +<p>He argued, but she was obdurate. She hadn't the change about her, +she affirmed, with a jerk of her thumb towards the interior of the +tent. Their takings to-day hadn't amounted to five shillings, as she +was a Christian woman.</p> + +<p>The Major, glancing beneath the tent-cloth, spied a melancholy man +extracting ribbons from his mouth before an audience of three men, a +child and a woman. He heard Ben Jope's voice raised in approval. +He announced that he would wait outside until the performance +concluded.</p> + +<p>"Twenty minutes," said the stout woman nonchalantly.</p> + +<p>"Good evening, ma'am," said he, and stepping back, began to pace to +and fro in front of the tent.</p> + +<p>Why had he followed this man who, if you looked at it in one way, had +been the prime cause of all his calamity? He smiled grimly at the +thought that, as justice went in this world, he should be tracking +Ben Jope down in a cold passion of revenge; whereas, in fact, he was +hungry to grip the honest fellow's hand. From the panorama of these +ten mischanced years the face of Ben Jope shone out as in a halo, +wreathed with good-natured smiles. Ben Jope—</p> + +<p>Here the Major flung up both hands and tottered back as, with a lift +of the earth beneath his feet, a flame ripped the roof off the tent, +and roaring, hurled it right and left into the night.</p> + +<p>Under the shock of the explosion he dropped on hands and knees, and, +still on hands and knees, crawled forward to a ditch, a full ten +yards to the left of the spot where the tent had stood. In the +darkness one of the victims lay groaning.</p> + +<p>"Are—are you hurt?" The Major's teeth chattered as he crawled near +and stretched out a hand towards the sufferer.</p> + +<p>"Damn the fellow!" swore Ben Jope cheerfully, sitting up. "What'll +be his next trick, I wonder?"</p> + +<p>"You—you are not hurt?"</p> + +<p>"Hurt? No, I reckon. Who are you?"</p> + +<p>"Hymen, Ben—Solomon Hymen. You remember—in the Plymouth Theatre, +ten years back. Oh, hush, man, hush!" for Ben, casting both hands up +to his face, had let out a squeal like a rabbit's.</p> + +<p>"An' I saw you die! Oh, take him away someone! With these very +eyes! No, damn it!" Mr. Jope pulled himself together and scrambled +to his feet. "I paid for two pennyworth, but if this goes on I gets +my money back!"</p> + +<p>By this time showmen and merrymakers, startled out of the +neighbouring tents by the explosion, as bees from their hives, were +running to and fro with lanterns and naphtha flares, seeking for the +victims. A ring of the searchers came to a halt around the Major and +Ben Jope, and Ben, catching sight of his companion's face, let out +another yell.</p> + +<p>"It's all right." The Major clutched him by the arm and turned. +"It's all right, my good people. He can walk, you see. I'll take +him along to the hospital."</p> + +<p>He managed to reassure them, and they passed on. He slipped an arm +under Ben's and led him away into the darkness.</p> + +<p>"But I seen you blowed into air, ten years ago, <i>with</i> these very +eyes," persisted Ben.</p> + +<p>"And with these very eyes I saw you blown into air ten minutes ago; +and yet we're both alive," the Major assured him.</p> + +<p>"An' I come here o' purpose to look up your ha'nts, havin' been +always pretty curious about that tale o' your'n, but kep' moderate +busy all these years."</p> + +<p>"And Bill Adams?"</p> + +<p>"Wot?" Mr. Jope halted. "Haven't you 'eard? Bill's dead. +Drink done it—comin' upon it too 'asty. Simmons's boarding-house, +Plymouth, that's where it was. <i>Quite</i> a decent house, an' the +proprietor behaved very well about it, I will say. But where on +earth have you been hidin' all these years, that you never heard +about Bill?"</p> + +<p>"In a French war prison, Ben. And, Ben, you found me a berth once, +you remember. I wonder if you could get me into another?"</p> + +<p>"O' course I can," Mr. Jope answered cheerily. "You come along o' me +to Plymouth an' I'll put you into the very job. A cook's galley, it +is, and so narra' that with a wooden leg in dirty weather you can +prop yourself tight when she rolls, an' stir the soup with it +between-times!"</p> + +<br><p> +They entered the hospital, and the Major packed his knapsack with +hasty, eager hands.</p> + +<p>"What's this mess on the floor?" asked Ben Jope, pointing to the +fragments of plaster of Paris.</p> + +<p>"That?" The Major looked up from his packing. "That's a sort of +image I broke. Come along; we haven't time to pick up the pieces."</p> + +<br><p> +They crossed the harbour in Cai Tamblyn's boat, and moored her safely +at the ferry slip. On the knap of the hill the Major turned for a +last look.</p> + +<p>From the Town Quay, far below and across the water, the lights of the +merry-go-round winked at him gaily, knowingly.</p> + +<br><br> +<br><br> +<hr class="full" noshade> +<br> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MAYOR OF TROY***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 19751-h.txt or 19751-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/9/7/5/19751">http://www.gutenberg.org/1/9/7/5/19751</a></p> +<p>Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed.</p> + +<p>Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: The Mayor of Troy + + +Author: Sir Arthur Thomas Quiller-Couch + + + +Release Date: November 10, 2006 [eBook #19751] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MAYOR OF TROY*** + + +E-text prepared by Lionel Sear + + + +THE MAYOR OF TROY. + +by + +Arthur Thomas Quiller-Couch. + +1906 +This e-text prepared from a reprint of a version published in 1906. + + + + + + + + TO MY FRIEND + KENNETH GRAHAM + AND + THE REST OF THE CREW + OF THE + "RICHARD AND EMILY" + AND WITH APOLOGIES TO + THE MAYOR OF + LOSTWITHIEL + A BOROUGH + FOR WHICH I HAVE (WITH CAUSE) + MUCH AFFECTION AND + A VERY HIGH ESTEEM. + + + +CONTENTS. + + +Chapter. + + PROLOGUE. + +I. OUR MAJOR. + +II. OUR MAYOR. + +III. THE MILLENNIUM. + +IV. HOW THE TROY GALLANTS CHALLENGED THE LOOE DIEHARDS. + +V. INTERFERENCE OF A GUERNSEY MERCHANT. + +VI. MALBROUCK S'EN VA. + +VII. THE BATTLE OF TALLAND COVE. + +VIII. "COME, MY CORINNA, COME!" + +IX. BY LERRYN WATER. + +X. GUNNER SOBEY TURNS LOOSE THE MILLENNIUM. + +XI. THE MAJOR LEAVES US. + +XII. A COLD DOUCHE ON A HOT FIT. + +XIII. A VERY HOT PRESS. + +XIV. THE "VESUVIUS" BOMB. + +XV. UP-CHANNEL. + +XVI. FAREWELL TO ALBION! + +XVII. MISSING! + +XVIII. APOTHEOSIS. + +XIX. THE RETURN. + +XX. IN WHICH THE MAJOR LEARNS THAT NO MAN IS NECESSARY. + +XXI. FACES IN WATER. + +XXII. WINDS UP WITH A MERRY-GO-ROUND. + + + +THE MAYOR OF TROY. + + + +PROLOGUE. + + +Good wine needs no bush; but this story has to begin with an apology. + +Years ago I promised myself to write a treatise on the lost Mayors of +Cornwall--dignitaries whose pleasant fame is now night, recalled only +by some neat byword or proverb current in the Delectable (or as a +public speaker pronounced it the other day, the Dialectable) Duchy. +Thus you may hear of "the Mayor of Falmouth, who thanked God when the +town jail was enlarged"; "the Mayor of Market Jew, sitting in his own +light"; "the Mayor of Tregoney, who could read print upside-down, but +wasn't above being spoken to"; "the Mayor of Calenick, who walked +two miles to ride one"; "the Mayor of East Looe, who called the King +of England 'Brother.'" Everyone remembers the stately prose in which +Gibbon records when and how he determined on his great masterpiece, +when and how he completed it. "It was at Rome: on the 15th of +October, 1764, as I sat musing amidst the ruins of the Capitol, while +the bare-footed friars were singing vespers in the Temple of Jupiter, +that the idea of writing the Decline and Fall of the City first +started in my mind." So I could tell with circumstance when, where +and how I first proposed my treatise; and shall, perhaps, when I have +concluded it. But life is short; and for the while my readers may be +amused with an instalment. + + +Now of all the Mayors of Cornwall the one who most engaged my +speculation, yet for a long while baffled all research, was "the +Mayor of Troy, so popular that the town made him Ex-Mayor the year +following." + +Of course, if you don't know Troy, you will miss half the reason of +my eagerness. Simple, egregious, adorable town! Shall I go on here +to sing its praises? No; not yet. + +The reason why I could learn nothing concerning him is that, soon +after 1832, when the Reform Bill did away with Troy's Mayor and +Corporation, as well as with its two Members of Parliament, someone +made a bonfire of all the Borough records. O Alexandria! And the +man said at the time that he did it for fun! + +This brings me to yet another Mayor--the Mayor of Lestiddle, who is a +jolly good fellow. + +Nothing could be handsomer than my calling the Mayor of Lestiddle a +jolly good fellow; for in fact we live at daggers drawn. You must +know that Troy, a town of small population (two thousand or so) but +of great character and importance, stands at the mouth of a river +where it widens into a harbour singularly beautiful and frequented by +ships of all nations; and that seven miles up this river, by a bridge +where the salt tides cease, stands Lestiddle, a town of fewer +inhabitants and of no character or importance at all. Now why the +Reform Bill, which sheared Troy of its ancient dignities, should have +left Lestiddle's untouched, is a question no man can answer me; but +this I know, that its Mayor goes flourishing about with a silver mace +shaped like an oar, as a symbol of jurisdiction over our river from +its mouth (forsooth) so far inland as a pair of oxen yoked together +can be driven in its bed. + +He has, in fact, no such jurisdiction. Above bridge he may, an it +please him, drive his oxen up the riverbed, and welcome. I leave him +to the anglers he will discommodate by it. But his jurisdiction +below bridge was very properly taken from him by order of our late +Queen (whose memory be blessed!) in Council, and vested in the Troy +Harbour Commission. Now _I_ am Chairman of that Commission, and yet +the fellow declines to yield up his silver oar! We in Troy feel +strongly about it. It is not for nothing (we hold) that when he or +his burgesses come down the river for a day's fishing the weather +invariably turns dirty. We mislike them even worse than a German +band--which brings us no worse, as a rule, than a spell of east wind. + +Nevertheless, the Mayor of Lestiddle is a jolly good fellow, and I am +glad that his townsmen (such as they are) have re-elected him. +One day this last summer he came down to fish for mackerel at the +harbour's mouth, which can be done at anchor since our sardine +factory has taken to infringing the by-laws and discharging its offal +on the wrong side of the prescribed limit. (We Harbour Commissioners +have set our faces against this practice, but meanwhile it attracts +the fish.) It was raining, of course. Rowing close up to me, the +Mayor of Lestiddle asked--for we observe the ordinary courtesies-- +what bait I was using. I answered, fresh pilchard bait; and offered +him some, delicately forbearing to return the question, since it is +an article of faith with us that the burgesses of Lestiddle bait with +earthworms which they dig out of their back gardens. Well, he +accepted my pilchard bait, and pulled up two score of mackerel within +as many minutes, which doubtless gave him something to boast about on +his return. + +He was not ungrateful. Next week I received from him a parcel of MS. +with a letter saying that he had come across it, "a fly in amber," in +turning over a pile of old Stannary records. How it had found its +way among them he could not guess. + +A fly in amber, quotha! A jewel in a midden, rather! How it came +among his trumpery archives I know as little as he, but can guess. +Some Lestiddle man must have stolen it, and chosen them as a safe +hiding-place. + +It gave me the clue, and more than the clue. I know now the history +of that Mayor of Troy who was so popular that the town made him +Ex-Mayor the year following. + +Listen! Stretch out both hands; open your mouth and shut your eyes! +It is a draught of Troy's own vintage that I offer you; racy, +fragrant of the soil, from a cask these hundred years sunk, so that +it carries a smack, too, of the submerging brine. You know the old +recipe for Wine of Cos, that full-bodied, seignorial, superlative, +translunary wine. + +Yet I know not how to begin. + + "Fortunam Priami cantabo et nobile bellum." + +"I will sing you Troy and its Mayor and a war of high renown," that +is how I want to begin; but Horace in his _Ars Poetica_--confound +him!--has chosen this very example as a model to avoid, and the +critics would be down on me in a pack. + +Very well, then, let us try a more reputable way. + + + +CHAPTER I. + + +OUR MAJOR. + +Arms and the Man I sing! + +When, on the 16th of May, 1803, King George III. told his faithful +subjects that the Treaty of Amiens was no better than waste paper, +Troy neither felt nor affected to feel surprise. King, Consul, +Emperor--it knew these French rulers of old, under whatever title +they might disguise themselves. More than four centuries ago an +English King had sent his pursuivants down to us with a message that +"the Gallants of Troy must abstain from attacking, plundering, and +sinking the ships of our brother of France, because we, Edward of +England, are at peace with our brother of France": and the Gallants +of Troy had returned an answer at once humble and firm: "Your Majesty +best knows your Majesty's business, but _we_ are at war with your +brother of France." Yes, we knew these Frenchmen. Once before, in +1456, they had thought to surprise us, choosing a night when our +Squire was away at market, and landing a force to burn and sack us: +and our Squire's wife had met them with boiling lead. His Majesty's +Ministers might be taken at unawares, not we. We slept Bristol +fashion, with one eye open. + +But when, as summer drew on, news came that the infamous usurper was +collecting troops at Boulogne, and flat-bottomed boats, to invade us; +when the spirit of the British people armed for the support of their +ancient glory and independence against the unprincipled ambition of +the French Government; when, in the Duchy alone, no less than 8511 +men and boys enrolled themselves in twenty-nine companies of foot, +horse and artillery, as well out of enthusiasm as to escape the +general levy threatened by Government (so mixed are all human +motives); then, you may be sure, Troy did not lag behind. + +Ah! but we had some brave corps among the Duchy Volunteers! + +There was the St. Germans Subscription Troop, for instance, which +consisted of forty men and eleven uniforms, and hunted the fox thrice +a week during the winter months under Lord Eliot, Captain and M.F.H. +There was the Royal Redruth Infantry, the famous "Royal Reds," of 103 +men and five uniforms. These had heard, at second hand, of +Bonaparte's vow to give them no quarter, and wore a conspicuous patch +of red in the seat of their pantaloons that he might have no excuse +for mistaking them. There was the even more famous Mevagissey +Battery, of no men and 121 uniforms. In Mevagissey, as you may be +aware, the bees fly tail-foremost; and therefore, to prevent +bickerings, it was wisely resolved at the first drill to make every +unit of this corps an officer. + +But the most famous of all (and sworn rivals) were two companies of +coast artillery--the Looe Diehards and the Troy Gallants. + +The Looe Diehards (seventy men and two uniforms) wore dark blue coats +and pantaloons, with red facings, yellow wings and tassels, and white +waistcoats. Would you know by what feat they earned their name? +Listen. I quote the very words of their commander, Captain Bond, who +survived to write a _History of Looe_--and a sound book it is. +"The East and West Looe Volunteer Artillery was established in 1803, +and kept in pay from Government for six years. Not a single man of +the company died during the six years, which is certainly very +remarkable." + +But, when you come to think of it, what an even more remarkable boast +for a body of warriors! + +We of Troy (180 men and two uniforms) laughed at this claim. +Say what you will, there is no dash about longevity, or very little. +For uniform we wore dark-blue coats and pantaloons, with white wings +and facings, edged and tasselled with gilt, and scarlet waistcoats, +also braided with gilt. We wanted no new name, we! Ours was an +inherited one, derived from days when, under Warwick the King-maker, +Lord High Admiral of England, we had swept the Channel, summoned the +men of Rye and Winchelsea to vail their bonnets--to take in sail, +mark you: no trumpery dipping of a flag would satisfy us--and when +they stiff-neckedly refused, had silenced the one town and carried +off the other's chain to hang across our harbour from blockhouse to +blockhouse. Also, was it not a gallant of Troy that assailed and +carried the great French pirate, Jean Doree, and clapped him under +his own hatches? + + "The roaring cannons then were plied, + And dub-a-dub went the drum-a; + The braying trumpets loud they cried + To courage both all and some-a." + + "The grappling-hooks were brought at length, + The brown bill and the sword-a; + John Dory at length, for all his strength, + Was clapt fast under board-a." + +That was why we wore our uniforms embroidered with gold (_dores_). +The Frenchmen, if they came, would understand the taunt. + +But most of all we were proud of Solomon Hymen, our Major and our +Mayor of Troy. + +I can see him now as he addressed us on the evening of our first +drill, standing beside the two long nineteen-pounders on the Old +Fort; erect, with a hand upon his ivory sword-hilt, his knops and +epaulettes flashing against the level sun. I can see his very +gesture as he enjoined silence on the band; for we had a band, and it +was playing "Come, Cheer Up, My Lads!" As though we weren't cheerful +enough already! + + +[But "Come, come!" the reader will object. "All this happened a +hundred years ago. Yet here are you talking as if you had been +present." Very true: it is a way we have in Troy. Call it a +foible--but forgive it! The other day, for instance, happening on +the Town Quay, I found our gasman, Mr. Rabling, an earnest Methodist, +discussing to a small crowd on the subject of the Golden Calf, and in +this fashion: "Well, friends, in the midst of all this pillaloo, +hands-across and down-the-middle, with old Aaron as bad as any and +flinging his legs about more boldacious with every caper, I happens +to glance up the hill, and with that I gives a whistle; for what do I +see but a man aloft there picking his way down on his heels with a +parcel under his arm! Every now and then he pulls up, shading his +eyes, so, like as if he'd a lost his bearin's. I glances across to +Aaron, and thinks I, 'Look out for squalls! Here's big brother +coming, and a nice credit _this'll_ be to the family!' . . ." +The historic present, as my Latin grammar used to call it, is our +favourite tense: and if you insist that, not being a hundred years +old, I cannot speak as an eye-witness of this historic scene, my +answer must be Browning's,--"All I can say is--I saw it!"] + + +"Gentlemen!" began the Major. + +We might not all be officers, like the Mevagissey Artillery, but in +the Troy Gallants we were all gentlemen. + +"Gentlemen!"--the Major waved an arm seaward--"yonder lies your +enemy. Behind you"--he pointed up the harbour to the town-- +"England relies on your protection. Shall the Corsican tyrant lay +his lascivious hands upon her ancient liberties, her reformed and +Protestant religion, her respectable Sovereign and his Consort, her +mansions, her humble cottages, and those members of the opposite sex +whose charms reward, and, in rewarding, refine us? Or shall we meet +his flat-bottomed boats with a united front, a stern 'Thus far and no +farther,' and send them home with their tails between their legs? +That, gentlemen, is the alternative. Which will you choose?" + +Here the Major paused, and finding that he expected an answer, we +turned our eyes with one consent upon Gunner Sobey, the readiest man +in the company. + +"The latter!" said Gunner Sobey, with precision; whereat we gave +three cheers. We dined, that afternoon, in the Long Room of the +"Ship" Inn, and afterwards danced the night through in the Town Hall. + +The Major danced famously. Above all things, he prided himself on +being a ladies' man, and the fair sex (as he always called them) +admired him without disguise. His manner towards them was gallant +yet deferential, tender yet manly. He conceded everything to their +weakness; yet no man in Troy could treat a woman with greater +plainness of speech. The confirmed spinsters (high and low, rich and +poor, we counted seventy-three of them in Troy) seemed to like him +none the less because he lost no occasion, public or private, of +commending wedlock. For the doctrine of Mr. Malthus (recently +promoted to a Professorship at the East India College) he had a +robust contempt. He openly regretted that, owing to the negligence +of our forefathers, the outbreak of war found Great Britain with but +fifteen million inhabitants to match against twenty-five million +Frenchmen. _They_ threatened to invade _us_, whereas _we_ should +rather have been in a position to march on Paris! He asked nothing +better. He quoted with sardonic emphasis the remark of a politician +that "'twas hardly worth while to go to war merely to prove that we +could put ourselves in a good posture for defence." + +"If I had my way," announced Major Hymen, "every woman in England +should have a dozen children at least." + +"What a man!" said Miss Pescod afterwards to Miss Sally Tregentil, +who had dropped in for a cup of tea. + +And yet the Major was a bachelor. They could not help wondering a +little. + +"With two such names, too!" mused Miss Sally. "'Solomon' and +'Hymen'; they certainly suggest--they would almost seem to give +promise of, at least, a _dual_ destiny." + +"You mark my words," said Miss Pescod. "That man has been crossed in +love." + +"But _who_?" asked Miss Sally, her eyes widening in speculation. +"_Who_ could have done such a thing?" + +"My dear, I understand there are women in London capable of +anything." + +The Major, you must know, had spent the greater part of his life in +the capital as a silk-mercer and linen-draper--I believe, in the +Old Jewry; at any rate, not far from Cheapside. He had left us at +the age of sixteen to repair the fortunes of his family, once +opulent and respected, but brought low by his great-grandfather's +rash operations in South Sea stock. In London, thanks to an +ingratiating manner with the sex on which a linen-draper relies for +patronage, he had prospered, had amassed a competence, and had sold +his business to retire to his native town, as Shakespeare retired to +Stratford-on-Avon, and at about the same period of life. + +Had the Major in London been crossed in love? No; I incline to +believe that Miss Pescod was mistaken. That hearts, up there, +fluttered for a man of his presence is probable, nay certain. +In port and even in features he bore a singular likeness to the +Prince Regent. He himself could not but be aware of this, having +heard it so often remarked upon by persons acquainted with his Royal +Highness as well as by others who had never set eyes on him. In +short, our excellent Major may have dallied in his time with the +darts of love; there is no evidence that he ever took a wound. + +Within a year after his return he bought back the ancestral home of +the Hymens, a fine house dating from the reign of Queen Anne. +(His great-grandfather had built it on the site of a humbler abode, +on the eve of the South Sea collapse.) It stood at the foot of +Custom House Hill and looked down the length of Fore Street--a +perspective view of which the Major never wearied--no, not even on +hot afternoons when the population took its siesta within doors and, +in the words of Cai Tamblyn, "you might shot a cannon down the +streets of Troy, and no person would be shoot." This Cai (or Caius) +Tamblyn, an eccentric little man of uncertain age, with a black +servant Scipio, who wore a livery of green and scarlet and slept +under the stairs, made up the Major's male retinue. Between them +they carried his sedan chair; and because Cai (who walked in front) +measured but an inch above five feet, whereas Scipio stood six feet +three in his socks, the Major had a seat contrived with a sharp +backward slope, and two wooden buffers against which he thrust his +feet when going down-hill. Besides these, whom he was wont to call, +somewhat illogically, his two factotums, his household comprised Miss +Marty and a girl Lavinia who, as Miss Marty put it, did odds and +ends. Miss Marty was a poor relation, a third or fourth cousin on +the maternal side, whom the Major had discovered somewhere on the +other side of the Duchy, and promoted. Socially she did not count. +She asked no more than to be allowed to feed and array the Major, and +gaze after him as he walked down the street. + +And what a progress it was! + +Again I can see him as he made ready for it, standing in his doorway +at the head of a flight of steps, which led down from it to the small +wrought-iron gate opening on the street. The house has since been +converted into bank premises and its threshold lowered for the +convenience of customers. Gone are the plants--the myrtle on the +right of the porch, the jasmine on the left--with the balusters over +which they rambled, and the steps which the balusters protected--ah, +how eloquently the Major's sword clanked upon these as he descended! +But the high-pitched roof remains, with its three dormer windows +still leaning awry, and the plaster porch where a grotesque, +half-human face grins at you from the middle of a fluted sea-shell. +Standing before it with half-closed eyes, I behold the steps again, +and our great man at the head of them receiving his hat from the +obsequious Scipio, drawing on his gloves, looping his malacca cane to +his wrist by its tasselled cord of silk. The descent might be +military or might be civil: he was always Olympian. + +"The handsome he is!" Miss Marty would sigh, gazing after him. + +"A fine figure of a man, our Major!" commented Butcher Oke, following +him from the shop-door with a long stare, after the day's joint had +been discussed and chosen. + +The children, to whom he was ever affable, stopped their play to take +and return his smile. Some even grinned and saluted. They reserved +their awe for Scipio. Indeed, there is a legend that when Scipio +made his first appearance in Fore Street--he being so tall and the +roadway so narrow--he left in his wake two rows of supine children +who, parting before him, had gradually tilted back as their gaze +climbed up his magnificent and liveried person until the sight of his +ebon face toppled them over, flat. + +Miss Jex, the postmistress, would hand him his letters or his copy of +the _Sherborne Mercury_ with a troubled blush. No exception surely +could be taken if she, a Government official, chose to hang a +coloured engraving of the Prince Regent on the wall behind her +counter. And yet--the resemblance! She had heard of irregular +alliances, Court scandals; she had even looked out "Morganatic" in +the dictionary, blushing for the deed while pretending to herself +(fie, Miss Jex!) that "Moravian" was the word she sought. + +In Admirals' Row--its real name was Admiral's Row, and had been given +to it in 1758, after the capture of Louisbourg and in honour of +Admiral Boscawen; but we in Troy preferred to write the apostrophe +after the 's'--Miss Sally Tregentil would overpeer her blind and draw +back in a flutter lest the Major had observed her. + +"Georgiana Pescod is positive that he was wild in his youth. +But how," Miss Sally asked herself, "can Georgiana possibly know? +And if he were--" + +I leave you, my reader, as you know the female heart, to continue +Miss Sally's broken musings. + + + +CHAPTER II. + + +OUR MAYOR. + +_Cedant arma togae_. It is time we turned from the Major to the +Mayor, from the man of gallantry to the magistrate. + +You know, I dare say, the story of the King of England and the King +of Portugal. The King of Portugal paid the King of England a visit. +"My brother," said the King of England, after some days, "I wish to +ask you a question." "Say on," said the King of Portugal. "I am +curious to know what in these realms of mine has most impressed you?" +The King of Portugal considered a while. "Your roast beef is +excellent," said he. "And after our roast beef, what next?" +The King of Portugal considered a while longer. "Your boiled beef +very nearly approaches it." So, if you had asked us on what first of +all we prided ourselves in Troy, we had pointed to our Major. If you +had asked "What next?" we had pointed to our Mayor. + +And these, our Dioscuri, were one and the same man! In truth, I +suppose we ought to have been proudest of him as Mayor; since as +Mayor he represented the King himself among us--nay, to all intents +and purposes _was_ the King. More than once in his public speeches +he reminded us of this: and we were glad to remember it when--as +sometimes happened--we ran a cargo from Roscoff or Guernsey and left +a cask or two privily behind the Mayor's quay door. We felt then +that his Majesty had been paid duty, and could have no legitimate +grievance against us. + +Was there any mental confusion in this? You would pardon it had you +ever been privileged to witness his Sunday procession to church, in +scarlet robe trimmed with sable, in cocked-hat and chain of office; +the mace-bearers marching before in scarlet with puce-coloured capes, +the aldermen following after in tasselled gowns of black; the band +ahead playing "The Girl I left behind Me" (for, although organised +for home defence, our corps had chosen this to be its regimental +tune). "Some talk of Alexander and some of Hercules"--and some of +Solomon, who never saw _our_ Solomon on the bench of justice! + +Let me tell you of his famous decision on Sabbath-breaking. +One Sunday afternoon our Mayor's slumbers were interrupted by Jago +the constable, who haled before him a man, a horse, and two +pannier-loads of vegetables, and charged the first-named with this +heinous offence. The fellow--a small tenant-farmer from the +outskirts of the parish--could not deny that he had driven his cart +down to the Town Quay, unharnessed, and started in a loud voice to +cry his wares. There, almost on the instant, Jago had taken him +_in flagrante delicto_, and, having an impediment in his speech, had +used no words but collared him. + +"What have you to say for yourself?" the Mayor demanded. + +"Darn me if I know what's amiss with the town to-day!" the culprit +made answer. "Be it a funeral?" + +"You are charged with trading, or attempting to trade, on the +Sabbath; and sad hearing this will be for your old parents, John +Polkinghorne." + +John Polkinghorne scratched his head. "You ben't going to tell me +that this be Sunday!" (You see, the poor fellow, living so far in +the country, had somehow miscounted the week, and ridden in to market +a day late.) + +"Sunday?" cried the Mayor. "Look at my Bible, there, 'pon the table! +Look at my clean bandanna!"--this was his handkerchief, that he had +been wearing over his face while he dozed, to keep off the flies. + +"Good Lord! And me all this morning in the homefield scoading dung!" + +"You go home this instant, and take every bit of that dung off again +before sunset," commanded the Mayor, "and if the Lord says no more +about it, we'll overlook the case." + +Maybe you have never heard either of his famous examination of Sarah +Mennear, of the "Three Pilchards" Inn (commonly known as the "Kettle +of Fish "), who applied for a separation, alleging that her husband +had kissed her by mistake for another woman. + +"What other woman?" demanded his Worship. + +"Sorra wan o' me knows," answered Sarah, who came of Irish +extraction. + +Her tale went that the previous evening, a little after twilight, she +was walking up the street and had gone by the door of the "Ship" Inn, +when a man staggered out into the roadway and followed her. By the +sound of his footsteps she took him for some drunken sailor, and was +hurrying on (but not fast, by reason of her clogs), when the man +overtook her, flung an arm around her neck, and forcibly kissed her. +Breaking away from him, she discovered it was her own husband. + +"Then where's the harm?" asked the Mayor. + +"But, please your Worship, he took me for another woman." + +"Then you must cite the other woman." + +"Arrah now, and how the divvle, saving your Worship's presence, will +I cite the hussy, seein' I never clapt eyes on her?" + +"No difficulty at all. To begin with, she was wearing clogs." + +"And so would nine women out of ten be wearin' clogs in last night's +weather." + +"And next, she was lifting the skirt of her gown high, to let the +folks admire her ankles." + +"Your Worship saw the woman, then? If I'd known your Worship to be +within hail--" + +"I think I know the woman. And so do you, Mrs. Mennear, if you can +think of one in this town that's vain as yourself of her foot and +ankle, and with as good a right." + +"There's not one," said Mrs. Mennear positively. + +"Oh yes, there is. Go back home, like a sensible soul, and maybe +you'll find her there." + +"The villain! Ye'll not be tellin' me he's dared--" Mrs. Mennear +came near to choke. + +"And small blame to him," said the Mayor with a twinkle. "Will you +go home, Sarah Mennear, and be humble, and ask her pardon?" + +"Will I sclum her eyes out, ye mane!" cried Sarah, fairly dancing. + +"Go home, foolish wife!" The Mayor was not smiling now, and his +voice took on a terrible sternness. "The woman I mean is the woman +John Mennear married, or thought he married; the woman that aforetime +had kept her own counsel though he caught and kissed her in a dimmety +corner of the street; the woman that swore to love, honour and obey +him, not she that tongue-drove him to the 'King of Prussia,' with his +own good liquor to keep him easy at home. Drunk he must have been to +mistake the one for t'other; and I'm willing to fine him for +drunkenness. But cite that other woman here before you ask me for a +separation order, and I'll grant it; and I'll warrant when John sees +you side by side, he won't oppose it." + + +Here and there our Mayor had his detractors, no doubt. What public +man has not? He incurred the reproach of pride, for instance, when +he appeared, one wet day, carrying an umbrella, the first ever seen +in Troy. A Guernsey merchant had presented him with this novelty +(I may whisper here that our Mayor did something more than connive at +the free trade) and patently it kept off the rain. But would it not +attract the lightning? Many, even among his well-wishers, shook +their heads. For their part they would have accepted the gift, but +it should never have seen the light: they would have locked it away +in their chests. + +Oddly enough the Mayor nourished his severest censor in his own +household. The rest of us might quote his wit, his wisdom, might +defer to him as a being, if not superhuman, at least superlative +among men; but Cai Tamblyn would have none of it. He had found one +formula to answer all our praises. + +"_Him_? Why, I knawed him when he was _so_ high!" + +Nor would he hesitate, in the Mayor's presence, from translating it +into the second person. + +"_You_? Why, I knawed you when you was _so_ high!" + +Yet the Mayor retained him in his service, which sufficiently proves +his magnanimity. + +He could afford to be magnanimous, being adored. + +Who but he could have called a public meeting and persuaded the +ladies of the town to enroll themselves in a brigade and patrol the +cliffs in red cloaks during harvest, that the French, if perchance +they approached our shores, might mistake them for soldiery? It was +pretty, I tell you, to walk the coast-track on a warm afternoon and +pass these sentinels two hundred yards apart, each busy with her +knitting. + +Of all the marks left on our town by Major Hymen's genius, the +Port Hospital, or the idea of it, proved (as it deserved) to +be the most enduring. The Looe Volunteers might pride themselves +on their longevity--at the best a dodging of the common lot. +We, characteristically, thought first of death and wounds. + +As the Major put it, at another public meeting: "There are risks even +in handling the explosives generously supplied to us by Government. +But suppose--and the supposition is surely not extravagant--that +history should repeat itself; that our ancient enemy should once +again, as in 1456, thunder at _this_ gate of England. He will +thunder in vain, gentlemen! (Loud applause.) As a wave from the +cliff he will draw back, hissing, from the iron mouths of our guns. +But, gentlemen"--here the Mayor sank his voice impressively-- +"we cannot have omelets without the breaking of eggs, nor victories +without effusion of blood. He may leave prisoners in our hands: he +will assuredly leave us with dead to bury, with wounded to care for. +As masters of the field, we shall discharge these offices of common +humanity, not discriminating between friend and foe. But in what +position are we to fulfil them?" + +The fact was (when we came to consider it) our prevision had extended +no farther than the actual combat: for its most ordinary results we +had made no preparation at all. + +But in Troy we are nothing if not thorough. The meeting appointed an +Emergency Committee then and there; and the Committee, having retired +to reassemble ten minutes later at the "General Wolfe," within an +hour sketched out the following proposals: + + 1.--An Ambulance Corps to be formed of youths under sixteen + (not being bandsmen) and adults variously unfit for military + service. + + 2.--A Corps of Female Nurses. Miss Pescod to be asked to + organise. + + 3.--The Town lock-up to be enlarged by taking down the partition + between it and a chamber formerly used by the Constable as a + potato store. It was also resolved to strengthen the door + and provide it with two new bolts and padlocks. + + 4.--The question of enlarging the Churchyard was deferred to the + next (Easter) vestry. + + 5.--Subscriptions to be invited for providing a War Hospital. + The Mayor, with Lawyer Chinn (Town Clerk) and Alderman + Hansombody, to seek for suitable premises, and report. + +Of Dr. Hansombody I shall have more to tell anon. For the present +let it suffice that before entering public life he had earned our +confidence as an apothecary, and especially by his skill and delicacy +in maternity cases. + +These proposals were duly announced: and only if you know Troy can +you conceive with what spirit the town flung itself into the task of +making them effective. "Task," did I say? When I tell you that at +our next drill a parade of thirty-two stretchers followed us up to +the Old Fort (still to the tune of "Come, Cheer Up, My Lads!") you +may guess how far duty and pleasure had made accord. + +The project of a hospital went forward more slowly; but at length the +Mayor and his Committee were able to announce that premises had been +taken on a lease of seven years (by which time an end to the war +might reasonably be predicted) in Passage Street, as you go towards +the ferry; the exterior whitewashed and fitted with green jalousie +shutters; the interior also cleaned and whitewashed, and a ward +opened with two beds. Though few enough to meet the contingencies of +invasion, and a deal too few (especially while they remained +unoccupied) to satisfy the zeal of Miss Pescod's corps of nurses +(which by the end of the second week numbered forty-three, with +sixteen probationary members), these two beds exhausted our +subscriptions for the time. A Ladies' Thursday Evening Working Party +supplied them with sheets, pillows and pillow-cases, blankets and +coverlets (twenty-two coverlets). + +The Institution, as we have seen, was intended for a War Hospital; +but pending invasion, and to get our nurses accustomed to the work, +there seemed no harm in admitting as our first patient a sailor from +Plymouth Dock who, having paid a lengthy call at the "King of +Prussia" and drunk there exorbitantly, on the way to his ship had +walked over the edge of the Town Quay. The tide being low, he had +escaped drowning, but at the price of three broken ribs. + +It is related of this man that early in his convalescence he sat up +and demanded of the Visiting Committee (the Mayor and Miss Pescod) a +translation of two texts which hung framed on the wall facing his +bed. They had been illuminated by Miss Sally Tregentil at the +instance of the Vicar (a Master of Arts of the University of Oxford) +--the one, "_Parcere Subjectis_," the other, "_Dulce et Decorum est +Pro Patria Mori_" + +"Ah," said the Mayor, with a rallying glance at Miss Pescod, "that's +more than any of us know. That's Latin!" + +"Excuse me," put in Dr. Hansombody, who had been measuring out a +draught at the little table by the window, "I don't pretend to be a +scholar; but I have made out the gist of them; and I understand them +to recommend a gentle aperient in cases which at first baffle +diagnosis." + +"Ah!" was the Mayor's only comment. + +"I don't profess mine to be more than a free rendering," went on the +little apothecary. "The Latin, as you would suppose, puts it more +poetically." + +"Talking of texts," said the patient, leaning back wearily on his +pillow, "there was a woman somewhere in the Bible who put her head +out of window and recommended for every man a damsel or two and a +specified amount of needlework. I ain't complainin', mind you; but +there's reason in all things." + +You have heard how our movement was launched. Where it would have +ended none can tell, had not the Millennium interfered. + + + +CHAPTER III. + + +THE MILLENNIUM. + +Aristotle has laid it down that the highest drama concerns itself +with reversal of fortune befalling a man highly renowned and +prosperous, of better character rather than worse; and brought about +less by vice than by some great error or frailty. After all that has +been said, you will wonder how I can admit a frailty in Major Hymen. +But he had one. + +You will wonder yet more when you hear it defined. To tell the +truth, he--our foremost citizen--yet missed being a perfect Trojan. +We were far indeed from suspecting it; he was our fine flower, our +representative man. Yet in the light of later events I can see now, +and plainly enough, where he fell short. + +A University Extension Lecturer who descended upon us the other day +and, encouraged by the crowds that flocked to hear him discourse on +English Miracle Plays, advertised a second series of lectures, this +time on English Moralities, but only to find his audience diminished +to one young lady (whom he promptly married)--this lecturer, I say, +whose text-books indeed indicated several points of difference +between the Miracle Play and the Morality, but nothing to account for +so marked a subsidence in the register, departed in a huff, using +tart language and likening us to a pack of children blowing bubbles. + +There is something in the fellow's simile. When an idea gets hold of +us in Troy, we puff at it, we blow it out and distend it to a globe, +pausing and calling on one another to mark the prismatic tints, the +fugitive images, symbols, meanings of the wide world glassed upon our +pretty toy. We launch it. We follow it with our eyes as it floats +from us--an irrecoverable delight. We watch until the microcosm goes +pop! Then we laugh and blow another. + +That is where the fellow's simile breaks down. While the game lasts +we are profoundly in earnest, serious as children: but each bubble as +it bursts releases a shower of innocent laughter, flinging it like +spray upon the sky. There in a chime it hangs for a moment, and so +comes dropping--dropping--back to us until: + + "Quite through our streets, with silver sound" + +The flood of laughter flows, and for weeks the narrow roadways, the +quays and alleys catch and hold its refluent echoes. Your true +Trojan, in short, will don and doff his folly as a garment. Do you +meet him, grave as a judge, with compressed lip and corrugated brow? +Stand aside, I warn you: his fit is on him, and he may catch you up +with him to heights where the ridiculous and the sublime are one and +all the Olympians as drunk as Chloe. Better, if you have no head for +heights, wait and listen for the moment--it will surely come--when +the bubble cracks, and with a laugh he is sane, hilariously sane. + +Just here it was that our Mayor fell out with our _genius loci_. +He could smile--paternally, magisterially, benignantly, gallantly, +with patronage, in deprecation, compassionately, disdainfully (as +when he happened to mention Napoleon Bonaparte); subtly and with +intention; or frankly, in mere _bonhomie_; as a Man, as a Major, as a +Mayor. But he was never known to laugh. + +Through this weakness he fell. But he was a great man, and it took +the Millennium-nothing less--to undo him. + +Here let me say, once for all, that the Millennium was no invention +of ours. It started with the Vicar of Helleston, and we may wash our +hands of it. + +On the first Sunday of January 1800, the Vicar of Helleston +(an unimportant town in the extreme southwest of Cornwall, near the +Lizard) preached a sermon which, at the request of a few +parishioners, he afterwards published under the title of _Reflections +on the New Century_. In delight, no doubt, at finding himself in +print, he sent complimentary copies to a number of his fellow-clergy, +and, among others, to the Vicar of Troy. + +Our Vicar, being a scholar and a gentleman, but a determined foe to +loose thinking (especially in Cambridge men), courteously +acknowledged the gift, but took occasion to remind his brother of +Helleston that Reflection was a retrospective process; that Man, as a +finite creature, could but anticipate events before they happened; +and that if the parishioners of Helleston wished to reflect on the +New Century they would have to wait until January 1901, or something +more than a hundred years. + +The Vicar of Helleston replied, tacitly admitting his misuse of +language, but demanding to know if in the Vicar of Troy's opinion the +new century would begin on January 1st, 1801: for his own part he had +supposed, and was prepared to maintain, that it had begun on January +1st, 1800. + +To this the Vicar of Troy retorted that undoubtedly the new century +would begin on the first day of January 1801, and that anyone who +held another opinion must suffer from confusion of mind. + +The Vicar of Helleston stuck to his contention, and a terrific +correspondence ensued. With the arguments exchanged--which tended +more and more to appeal from common sense to metaphysics--we need +not concern ourselves. The most of them reappeared the other day +(1900-1901) in the public press, and will doubtless reappear at the +alleged beginning of every century to come. But in his sixth letter +the Vicar of Helleston opened what I may call a masked battery. + +He said--and I believe the fellow had been leading up to this from +the start--that he desired to thresh the question out not only on +general grounds, but officially as Vicar of Helleston; since he had +reason to believe that a certain day in the opening year of the new +century would bring a term to the Millennium; that the Millennium had +begun in Helleston close on a thousand years ago; and that (as he +calculated, on the 8th of May next approaching) Satan might +reasonably be expected to regain his liberty (see Revelation xx.). +For evidence he adduced a local tradition that in his parish the +Archangel Michael (whose Mount stands at no great distance) had met +and defeated the Prince of Darkness, had cast him into a pit, and had +sealed the pit with a great stone; which stone might be seen by any +visitor on application to the landlord of the "Angel" Inn and payment +of a trifling fee. Moreover, the stone was black as your hat (unless +you were a free-thinking Radical and wore a white one; in which case +it was blacker). He pointed out that the name of Helleston--_i.q._, +Hell's Stone--corroborated this tradition. He went on to say that +annually, on the 8th of May, from time immemorial his parishioners +had met in the streets and engaged in a public dance which either +commemorated mankind's deliverance from the Spirit of Evil, or had no +meaning at all. + +The Vicar of Troy, warming to this new contention, riposted in +masterly style. He answered Helleston's claim to a monopoly, or even +a predominant interest, in the Devil by pelting his opponent with +Devil's Quoits, Devil's Punch-bowls, Walking-sticks, Frying-pans, +Pudding-dishes, Ploughshares; Devil's Strides, Jumps, Footprints, +Fingerprints; Devil's Hedges, Ditches, Ridges, Furrows; Devil's +Cairns, Cromlechs, Wells, Monoliths, Caves, Castles, Cliffs, Chasms; +Devil's Heaths, Moors, Downs, Commons, Copses, Furzes, Marshes, Bogs, +Streams, Sands, Quicksands, Estuaries; Devil's High-roads, By-roads, +Lanes, Footpaths, Stiles, Gates, Smithies, Cross-roads; from every +corner of the Duchy. He matched Helleston's May-dance with at least +a score of similar May-day observances in different towns and +villages of Cornwall. He quoted the Padstow Hobby-horse, the +Towednack Cuckoo-feast, the Madron Dipping Day, the Troy May-dragon, +and proved that the custom of ushering in the summer with song and +dance and some symbolical rite of purgation was well-nigh universal +throughout Cornwall. He followed the custom overseas, to Brittany, +Hungary, the Black Forest, Moldavia, Lithuania, Poland, Finland, the +Caucasus. . . . He wound up by sardonically congratulating the worthy +folk of Helleston: if the events of the past thousand years satisfied +their notion of a Millennium, they were easily pleased. + +And then-- + +Well, the next thing to happen was that the Vicar of Helleston +published a pamphlet of 76 pages 8vo, entitled _Considerations Proper +to the New Century, with some Reflections on the Millennium_. Note, +pray, the artfulness of the title, and, having noted it, let us pass +on. Our Vicar did not trouble to reply, being off by this time on a +scent of his own. + +The dispute had served its purpose. On the morning of March 25th, +1804, he knocked at the Major's door, and, pushing past Scipio, +rushed into the breakfast-parlour unannounced. + +"My dear Vicar! What has happened? Surely the French--" +The Major bounced up from his chair, napkin in hand. + +"The Millennium, Major! I have it, I tell you!" + +Miss Marty sat down the tea-pot with a trembling hand. She was +always timid of infectious disease. + +"O--oh!" The Major's tone expressed his relief. "I thought for the +moment--and you not shaved this morning--" + +"The fellow had hold of the stick all the while. I'll do him that +credit. He had hold of the stick, but at the wrong end. I've been +working it out, and 'tis plain (excuse me) as the nose on your face. +The moment you see 'Napoleon' with the numbers under him--" + +"Eh? Then it _is_ the French!" Again the Major bounced up from his +chair. + +"The French? Yes, of course--but, excuse me--" + +"_What_ numbers?" The Major's voice shook, though he bravely tried +to control it. + +"Six hundred--" + +"Good Lord! _Where_?" + +"--And sixty and six. In Revelation thirteen, eighteen--I thought +you knew!" went on the Vicar reproachfully, as his friend dropped +back upon his chair, and, resting an elbow on the table, shaded +his eyes and their emotion. "As I can now prove to you in ten +minutes, the Corsican's name spells accurately the Number of the +Beast. But that's only the beginning. Power, you remember, was +given to the Beast to continue forty and two months. Add forty and +two months to the first day of the century, which I have shown to be +January 1st, 1801, and you come to May 1st, 1804: that is to say, +next May-day. You perceive the significance of the date?" + +"Not entirely," confessed the Major, still a trifle pale. "Why, my +dear sir, all these rites and customs over which the Vicar of +Helleston and I have been disputing--these May-day observances, in +themselves apparently so puerile but so obviously symbolical to one +who looks below the surface--turn out to be not retrospective, not +reminiscent, not commemorative at all, but anticipatory. On every +1st of May our small urchins form a dragon or devil out of old pots +and saucepans, and flog it through the streets. _Ex ore infantum_-- +on the 1st of May next (mark my words) we shall see Satan laid hold +upon and bound for a thousand years." + +"Good Lord!" exclaimed the Major once again. + +"In the middle of spring-cleaning, too!" quavered Miss Marty. + +"You'll find it as clear as daylight," the Vicar assured them, +pulling out a pocket Testament and tapping the open page. + +"Will it," the Major began timorously, "will it make an appreciable +difference?" + +"To what?" + +"To--to our daily life--our routine? Call it humdrum, if you will--" + +"My good friend, the Millennium!" + +"I know, I know. Still, at my age a man has formed habits. +Of course"--the Major pulled himself together--"if it's a question of +Satan's being bound for a thousand years, on general grounds one can +only approve. Yes, decidedly, on principle one welcomes it. +Nevertheless, coming so suddenly--" + +The Vicar tapped his Testament again. "It has been _here_ all the +time." + +"Yes, yes," the Major sighed impatiently. "Still, it's upsetting, +you'll admit." + +"The end of the world!" Miss Marty gripped her apron, as if to cast +it over her head. + +"The Millennium, Miss Marty, is not the end of the world." + +"Oh, isn't it?" + +"It merely means that Satan will be bound for a thousand years to +come." + +"If that's all"--Miss Marty walked to the bell-rope--"there's no harm +in ringing for Scipio to bring in the omelet." + +"I beg your pardon?" The Vicar, not for the first time, found it +difficult to follow Miss Marty's train of thought. + +"Scipio never repeats what he hears at table: I'll say that for him. +And I believe in feeding people up." + +The Vicar turned to Major Hymen, who had pushed back his chair and +was staring at the tablecloth from under a puckered brow. + +"I fear this has come upon you somewhat suddenly: but my first +thought, as soon as I had convinced myself--" + +"Thank you, Vicar. I appreciate that, of course." + +"And, after all--when you come to think of it--an event of this +magnitude, happening in your mayoralty--" + +"Will they knight him, do you think?" asked Miss Marty. + +While the Vicar considered his answer, on top of this interruption +came another--Scipio entering with the omelet. Now the entrance of +the Major's omelet was a daily ritual. It came on a silver dish, +heated by a small silver spirit-lamp, on a tray covered by a spotless +linen cloth. Scipio, its cook and compounder, bore it with +professional pride, supporting the dish on one palm bent backwards, +and held accurately level with his shoulder; whence, by a curious and +quite indescribable turn of the wrist (Scipio was double-jointed), +during which for one fearful tenth of a second they seemed to hang +upside down, he would bring tray, lamp, dish and omelet down with a +sweep, and deposit them accurately in front of the Major's plate, at +the same instant bringing his heels together and standing at +attention for his master's approval. + +"Well done, Scipio!" the Major would say, nine days out of ten. + +But to-day he pushed the tray from him pettishly, ignoring Scipio. + +"You'll excuse me"--he turned to the Vicar--"but if what you say is +correct (you may go, Scipio) it puts me in a position of some +responsibility." + +"I felt sure you would see it in that light. It's a responsibility +for me, too." + +"To-day is the twenty-fifth. We have little more than a month." + +"What am I to say in church next Sunday?" + +"Why, as for that, you must say nothing. Good Heavens! is this a +time for adding to the disquietude of men's minds?" + +"I had thought," the Vicar confessed, "of memorialising the +Government." + +"Addington!" The Major's tone whenever he had occasion to mention Mr. +Addington was a study in scornful expression. He himself had once +memorialised the Prime Minister for a couple of nineteen-pounders +which, with the two on the Old Fort, would have made our harbour +impregnable. "Addington! It's hard on you, I know," he went on +sympathetically, "to keep a discovery like this to yourself. But we +might tell Hansombody." + +"Why Hansombody?" For the second time a suspicion crossed the +Vicar's mind that his hearers were confusing the Millennium with some +infectious ailment. + +"It is bound to affect his practice," suggested Miss Marty. + +"To be sure," the Major chimed in. As a matter of fact, he attached +great importance to the apothecary's judgment, and was wont to lean +on it, though not too ostentatiously. "It can hardly fail to affect +his practice. I think, in common justice, Hansombody ought to be +told; that is, if you are quite sure of your ground." + +"Sure?" The Vicar opened his Testament afresh and plunged into an +explanation. "And forty-two months," he wound up, "are forty-two +months, unless you prefer to fly in the face of Revelation." + +His demonstration fairly staggered the Major. "My good sir, _where_ +did you say? Patmos? Now, if anyone had come to me a week ago and +told me--Martha, ring for Scipio, please, and tell him to fetch me my +hat." + +Although the Major and the Vicar had as good as made solemn agreement +to impart their discovery to no one but Mr. Hansombody; and, although +Miss Marty admittedly (and because, as she explained, no one had +forbidden her) imparted it to Scipio and again to Cai Tamblyn in the +course of the morning; yet, knowing Troy, I hesitate to blame her +that before noon the whole town was discussing the Millennium, notice +of which (it appeared) had come down to the Mayor by a private advice +and in Government cipher. + +"But what _is_ a Millennium?" asked someone of Gunner Sobey (our +readiest man). + +"It means a thousand years," answered Gunner Sobey; "and then, if +you're lucky, you gets a pension accordin'." + +Miss Marty confessed later that she had confided the secret to +Scipio. Now Scipio, a sentimental soul, cherished a passion. +In church every Sunday he sat behind his master and in full view of a +board on the wall of the south aisle whereon in scarlet letters on a +buff ground were emblazoned certain bequests and charities left to +the parish by the pious dead. The churchwardens who had set up this +list, with the date, September 1757, and attested it with their +names, had prudently left a fair blank space thereunder for +additions. Often, during the Vicar's sermons, poor Scipio's gaze had +dwelt on this blank space. Maybe the scarlet lettering above it +fascinated him. Negroes are notoriously fond of scarlet. But out +upon me for so mean a guess at his motives! Scipio, regarding this +board Sunday by Sunday, saw in imagination his own name added to that +glorious roll. He had a few pounds laid by. He owned neither wife +nor child. Why should it not be? He was black: but a black man's +money passed current as well as a white man's. Might not his name, +Scipio Johnson, stand some day and be remembered as well as that of +Joshua Milliton, A.M. (whatever A.M. might mean), who in 1714 had +bequeathed moneys to provide, every Whit-Sunday and Christmas, +"twelve white loaves of half a peck to as many virtuous poor widows"? + +So when Miss Marty confided the news to him in the pantry where, as +always at ten in the morning, he was engaged in cleaning the plate, +Scipio's hand shook so violently that the silver sugar-basin slipped +from his hold and, crashing down upon the breakfast-tray, broke two +cups and the slop-basin into small fragments. + +"Oh, Scipio!" Miss Marty's two hands went up in horrified dismay. +"How could you be so careless!" + +"The Millennium, miss!" + +"We can never replace it--never!" + +Scipio gazed at the tray: but what he saw was a shattered dream--a +cracked board strewn with fragmentary scarlet letters and flourishes, +"brief flourishes."--"Ole man Satan is among us sho 'nuff, Miss +Marty: among us and kickin' up Saint's Delight, because his time is +short. I was jes' thinkin' of the widows, miss." + +"You have spoilt the set . . . eh? _what_ widows? You don't mean to +tell me that Satan--?" + +Miss Marty broke off and gazed at Scipio with dawning suspicion, +distrust, apprehension. She had never completely reconciled herself +with the poor fellow's colour. The Major, in moments of irritation, +would address him as "You black limb of Satan." He came from the +Gold Coast, and she had heard strange stories of that happily +distant, undesirable shore; stories of devil-worship, and--was it +there they practised suttee? What did he mean by that allusion to +widows? And why had he turned pale--yes, pale--when she announced +the Evil One's approaching overthrow? + +Miss Marty left him to pick up the pieces, and withdrew in some haste +to the kitchen. Then, half an hour later, while rolling out the +paste for a pie-crust, she imparted the news to Lavinia. + +"It's to happen on May-day, Lavinia. The Major had word of it this +morning, and--only think!--Satan is to be bound for a thousand +years." + +"Law, miss!" said Lavinia. "Apprentice?" + +Cai Tamblyn heard of it in the garden, which was really a small +flagged courtyard leading to the terrace, which again was really a +small, raised platform with a table and a couple of chairs, where the +Major sometimes smoked his pipe and overlooked the harbour and the +shipping. Along each side of the courtyard ran a flower-bed, and in +these Cai Tamblyn grew tulips and verbenas, according to the season, +and kept them scrupulously weeded. He was stooping over his tulips +when Miss Marty told him of the Millennium. + +"What's that?" he asked, picking up a slug and jerking it across the +harbour wall. + +"It's a totally different thing from the end of the world. To begin +with, Satan is to be taken and bound for a thousand years." + +"Oh!" said Cai Tamblyn with fine contempt. "_Him!_" + + + +CHAPTER IV. + + +HOW THE TROY GALLANTS CHALLENGED THE LOOE DIEHARDS. + +That it was the Major's idea goes without saying. At Looe they had +neither the originality for it nor the enterprise. + +I have already told you with what sardonic emphasis he quoted the +saying that 'twas hardly worth while for Great Britain to go to war +merely to prove that she could put herself in a good posture for +defence. The main secret of strategy, he would add, is to impose +your idea of the campaign on your enemy; to take the initiative out +of his hands; to throw him on the defensive and keep him nervously +speculating what move of yours may be a feint and what a real attack. +If the Ministry had given the Major his head, so to speak, Agincourt +at least might have been repeated. + +But since it enforced him to wait on the enemy's movements, at least +(said he) let us be sure that our defence is secure. Concerning the +Troy battery he had not a doubt; but over the defences of Looe he +could not but feel perturbed. To be sure, Looe's main battery stood +out of reach of harm, but with the compensating disadvantage of being +able to inflict none. This seemed to him a grave engineering +blunder: but to impart his misgivings to an officer so sensitive as +Captain Aeneas Pond of the East and West Looe Volunteer Artillery was +a delicate matter, and cost him much anxious thought. + +At length he hit on a plan at once tactful and so bold that it +concealed his tact. Between Looe and Troy, but much nearer to Looe, +lies Talland Cove, a pretty recess of the coast much favoured in +those days by smugglers as being lonely and well sheltered, with a +nicely shelving beach on which, at almost any state of the tide, an +ordinary small boat could be run and her cargo discharged with the +greatest ease. A shelving ridge on the eastern side of the cove had +only to be known to be avoided, and the run of sea upon the beach +could be disregarded in any but a strong southerly wind. + +Now, where the free-traders could so easily land a cargo, it stood to +reason that Bonaparte (were he so minded) could land an invading +force. Nay, once on a time the French had actually forced this very +spot. A short way up the valley behind the cove stood a mill; and of +that mill this story was told. About the time of the Wars of the +Roses, the miller there gave entertainment to a fellow-miller from +the Breton coast opposite, who had crossed over--or so he pretended-- +to learn by what art the English ground finer corn than the French. +Coming by hazard to this mill above Talland, he was well entertained +for a month or more And dismissed with a blessing; but only to return +to his own country, collect a band of men and cross to Talland Cove, +where on a Christmas Eve he surprised his late host at supper, bound +him, haled him down to the shore, carried him off to Brittany, and +there held him at ransom. The ransom was paid, and our Cornish +miller, returning, built himself a secret cupboard behind the chimney +for a hiding-place against another such mishap. That hiding-place +yet existed, and formed (as the Major well knew) a capital +store-chamber for the free-traders. + +The Major, then, having carefully studied Talland Cove, with its +approaches, and the lie of the land to the east and west and +immediately behind it, sat down and indited the following letter: + + "Dear Pond,--I have been thinking over the military situation, + and am of opinion that if the enemy once effected a lodgment in + Looe, we in Troy might have difficulty in dislodging him. + Have you considered the danger of Talland Cove and the + accessibility of your town from that quarter? And would you and + your corps entertain the idea of a descent of my corps upon + Talland one of these nights as a friendly test?--Believe me, + yours truly," + "Sol Hymen (_Major_)." + + "To Captain Aeneas Pond, Commanding the East and West Looe + Volunteer Artillery." + + +To this Captain Pond made answer: + + "Dear Hymen,--The military situation here is practically + unchanged. We have had some bronchial trouble among the older + members of the corps in consequence of the severe east winds + which prevailed up to last week; but on the whole we have + weathered the winter beyond expectation. A slight outbreak of + whooping-cough towards the end of February was confined to the + juveniles of the town, and left us unaffected. + + "Seeing that I make a practice of walking over to Talland to + bathe at least twice a week during the summer months, I ought to + be acquainted with the dangers of the Cove, as well as its + accessibility. The temperature of the water is of + extraordinarily low range, and will compare in the mean (I am + told) with the Bay of Naples. My informant was speaking of + ordinary years. Vesuvius in eruption would no doubt send the + figures up. + + "By all means march your men over to Talland; and if the weather + be tolerable we will await you there and have a dinner ready at + the Sloop. Our Assurance Fund has a surplus this year, which, + in my opinion, would be well expended in entertaining our + brothers-in-arms. But do not make the hour too late, or I shall + have trouble with the Doctor. What do you say to 3.30 p.m., any + day after this week?--Yours truly, + Aen. Pond. + + "To the Worshipful the Mayor of Troy (Major S. Hymen), + Commanding the Troy Volunteer Artillery." + +The Major replied: + + "Dear Pond,--In speaking of the enemy, I referred to the Corsican + and his minions rather than to the whooping-cough or any similar + epidemic. It struck me that the former (being flat-bottomed) + might with great ease effect a landing in Talland Cove and fall + on your flank in the small hours of the morning, creating a + situation with which, single-handed, you might find it difficult + to cope. My suggestion then would be that, as a test, we + arranged a night together for a surprise attack, our corps here + acting as a friendly foe. + + "With so gallant an enemy I feel a diffidence in discussing the + bare contingency of our success. But it may reassure the + non-combatant portion of your population in East and West Looe + if I add that 72 _per centum_ of my corps are married men, and + that I accept no recruit without careful inquiry into character. + + "By direct assault I know you to be impregnable. The reef off + your harbour would infallibly wreck any ship that tried to + approach within the range of your battery (270 point-blank, I + believe); and my experience with a picnic party last summer + convinced me that to discharge the complement of even half a + dozen boats by daylight on your quay requires a degree of method + which in a night attack would almost certainly be lacking. + Our boats would not be flat bottomed, but only partially so: + enough for practical purposes. + + "I do not apprehend any casualties. With a little forethought we + may surely avoid the confusion incident to a night surprise, + while carrying it out in all essentials. But I may mention + that we have a well-found hospital in Troy, that we should bring + our own stretcher-party, and that our honorary surgeon, + Mr. Hansombody, is a licentiate of the Apothecaries' Hall, in + London.--I am, my dear Pond, yours truly," + "Sol. Hymen (_Major_)." + +"Confound this fire-eater!" sighed Captain Pond. "I knew, when they +told me he had founded a hospital, he wouldn't be satisfied till he'd +filled it." Yet he could scarcely decline the challenge. + + "My dear Major,--In these critical times, when Great Britain + calls upon her sons to consolidate their ranks in face of the + Invader, I should have thought it wiser to keep as many as + possible in health and fighting condition than to incur the + uncertain risks of such a nocturnal adventure as you propose. + I think it due to myself to make this clear, and you will credit + me that I have, or had, no other reason for demurring. It does + not become me, however, to argue with my superior in military + rank; and again, the tone of your last communication makes it + impossible for me to decline without bringing the spirit of my + Corps under suspicion. I cannot do them this injustice. + His Majesty, I dare to say, has no braver, no more gallant + subjects, than the inhabitants of East and West Looe; and if, or + when, you choose to invade us you may count on a determined + resistance and, at its conclusion, on a hearty invitation to + supper, or breakfast, as the length of the operations may + dictate.--I am, yours truly," + "Aen. Pond (_Capt_. E. and W.L.V.A.)." + + "P.S.--If you will accept a suggestion, it is that on the night + of the 30th of April, or in the early hours of May morning, + large numbers of our inhabitants fare out to the neighbouring + farmhouses to eat cream and observe other unwholesome but + primitive and interesting ceremonies before day-break. + A similar custom, I hear, prevails at Troy. Now it occurs to me + that if we agreed upon that date for our surprise attack, we + should, so to speak, be killing two birds with one stone, and at + a season when the night air in some degree loses its + insalubrity. + + "P.P.S.--You will, of course, take care--it is the essence of our + agreement--that all ammunition shall be strictly blank. + And pray bring your full band. Though superfluous before and + during the surprise, their strains will greatly enhance the + subsequent festivities." + +Thus did Captain Pond accept our challenge. The Major acknowledged +its acceptance in the following brief note: + + "My dear Pond,--Your letter has highly gratified me. + Between this and April 30th I will make occasion to meet you and + arrange details. Meanwhile, could you discover and send the + correct words and tune of an old song I remember hearing sung, + when I was a boy, in honour of your town? It was called, I + think, 'The George of Looe'; and if between this and then our + musicians learnt to play it, I daresay your men would appreciate + the compliment from their (temporary) foes.--Yours truly," + "Sol. Hymen (_Major_)." + +But this was before our Vicar's announcement of the Millennium. + +Captain Pond promised to obtain, if possible, the words and music of +the old song. "Courtesies such as yours," he wrote, "refine the +spirit, while they mitigate the ferocity, of warfare." + + + +CHAPTER V. + + +INTERFERENCE OF A GUERNSEY MERCHANT. + +A smaller man than Major Hymen--I allude to character rather than to +stature--had undoubtedly postponed a military manoeuvre on finding it +likely to clash with the Millennium, an event so incalculable and +conceivably so disconcerting to the best-laid plans: and, indeed, for +something like forty-eight hours the Major was in two minds about +writing to Captain Pond and hinting at a postponement. + +But in the end he characteristically chose the stronger line. +I believe the handsome language of Captain Pond's last letter decided +him. His was no cheap imitation of the grand manner. Magnificently, +spaciously--too spaciously, perhaps, considering the width of our +streets--it enshrined a real conception of Man's proper dignity. +Here was an obligation in which honour met and competed with +politeness: and he must fulfil it though the heavens fell. Moreover, +he could not but be aware, during the month of April, that the town +had its eye on him, hoping for a sign. He and the Vicar and Mr. +Hansombody had bound each other to secrecy; nevertheless some inkling +of the secret had leaked out. The daily current of gossip in the +streets no longer kept its cheerful, equable flow. Citizens avoided +each other's eyes, and talked either in hushed voices or with an +almost febrile vehemence on any subject but that which lay closest to +their thoughts. + +But never did our Mayor display such strength, such unmistakable +greatness, as during this, the last month--alas!--fate granted us to +possess him. Men eyed him on his daily walk, but he for his part +eyed the weather: and the weather continued remarkably fine for the +time of year. + +So warm, so still, indeed, were the evenings, that in the third week +of April he began to take his dessert, after dinner, out of doors on +the terrace overlooking the harbour; and would sit and smoke there, +alone with a book, until the shadows gathered and it grew too dark to +read print. + +"And you may tell Scipio to bring me out a bottle of the green-sealed +Madeira," he commanded, on the evening of the twentieth. + +"The green-sealed Madeira?" echoed Miss Marty. "You know, of course, +that there is but a dozen or so left?" + +"A dozen precisely; and to-day is the twentieth. That leaves"--the +Major drummed with his fingers on the mahogany--"a bottle a night and +one over. That last one I reserve to drink on the evening of May-day +if all goes well. One must risk something." + +"Solomon!" + +"Eh?" The Major looked up in surprise. Although a kinswoman, Miss +Marty had never before dared to address him by his Christian name. +"One must risk something; or rather, I should say, one must leave a +margin. If Hansombody calls, you may send out the brown sherry." + +"Forgive me, cousin. I see you going about your daily business, calm +and collected, as though no shadow hung on us--" + +"A man in my position has certain responsibilities, my dear Martha." + +"Yes, yes; I admire you for it. Do not think that for one moment I +have failed in paying you that tribute. I often wish," pursued Miss +Marty, somewhat incoherently, "that I had been born a man. I trust +the aspiration is not unwomanly. I see you going about as if nothing +were happening or likely to happen, and me all the while half dead in +my bed, and hearing the clock strike and expecting it every moment. +As if the French weren't bad enough! And the Vicar may say what he +likes, but when I hear you ordering up the green-sealed Madeira I +know you're like me, and in your heart of hearts can't see much +difference between it and the end of the world, for all the brave +face you put on it. Oh, I dare say it's different when one happens +to be a man," wound up Miss Marty, "but what _I_ want to know is why +couldn't we be let alone and go on comfortably?" + +The Major rose and flicked a crumb or two from the knees of his +pantaloons. For the moment he seemed about to answer her, but +thought better of it and left the room without speech, taking his +napkin with him. + +To tell the truth, he had been near to giving way. In his heart he +echoed Miss Marty's protest; and it touched him with an accent of +reproach--faint indeed; an accent and no more--which yet he had +detected and understood. Was he not in some sort responsible? +Would the Millennium be imminent to-day--or, if imminent, would it be +wearing so momentous an aspect?--if at the last Mayor-choosing he had +modestly declined to be re-elected (for the fifth successive year), +and had stood aside in favour of some worthy but less eminent +citizen? Hansombody, for instance? Hansombody admired him, idolised +him, with a devotion almost canine. Yet Hansombody might be expected +to cherish hopes of the mayoral succession sooner or later, for one +brief year at any rate; and for a few moments after acceding for the +sixth time to the unanimous request of the burgesses, the Major had +almost fancied that Hansombody's feelings were hurt. Hansombody +would have made a competent mayor; provoking comparison, of course, +but certainly not provoking the jealousy of the gods. It is +notoriously the mountain top, the monarch oak that attracts the +lightning. Impossible to think of Hansombody attracting the +lightning, with his bedside manner! + +The Major seated himself in his favourite chair on the terrace, +spread his napkin over his knees and mused, while Scipio set out the +decanters and glasses. + +His gaze, travelling over the low parapet of the quay-wall, rested on +the quiet harbour, the ships swinging slowly with the tide, the +farther shore touched with the sunset glory. Evensong, the close of +day, the end of deeds, the twilit passing of man--all these the +scene, the hour suggested. And yet (the Major poured out a glass of +the green-sealed Madeira) this life was good and desirable. + +The Major's garden (as I have said) was a narrow one, in width about +half the depth of his house, terminating in the "Terrace" and a +narrow quay-door, whence a ladder led down to the water. Alongside +this garden ran the rear wall of the Custom House, which abutted over +the water, also with a ladder reaching down to the foreshore, and not +five yards from the Mayor's. On the street side one window of the +Custom House raked the Mayor's porch; in the rear another and smaller +window overlooked his garden, and this might have been a nuisance had +the Collector of Customs, Mr. Pennefather, been a less considerate +neighbour. But no one minded Mr. Pennefather, a little, round, +self-depreciating official who, before coming to Troy, had served as +clerk in the Custom House at Penzance, and so, as you might say, had +learnt his business in a capital school: for the good feeling between +the Customs officials and the free-traders of Mount's Bay, and the +etiquette observed in their encounters, were a by-word throughout the +Duchy. + +The Major, glancing up as he sipped his Madeira and catching sight of +Mr. Pennefather at his window, nodded affably. + +"Ah! Good evening, Mr. Collector!" + +"Good evening, Major! You'll excuse my seeming rudeness in +overlooking you. To tell the truth, I had just closed my books, and +the sight of your tulips--" + +"A fair show this year--eh?" The Major took pride in his tulips. + +"Magnificent! I was wondering how you will manage when the bulbs +deteriorate; for, of course, there's no renewing them from Holland, +nor any prospect of it while this war lasts." + +The Major sipped his wine. "Between ourselves, Mr. Collector, I have +heard that forbidden goods find their way into this country somehow. +Eh?" + +The Collector laughed. "But the price, Major? That is where it hits +us, even in the matter of tulips. War is a terrible business." + +"It has been called the sport of kings," answered the Major, crossing +his legs with an air of careless greatness, and looking more like the +Prince Regent than ever. + +"I have sometimes wondered, being of a reflective turn, on the--er-- +far-reaching consequences of events which, to the casual eye, might +appear insignificant. An infant is born in the remote island of +Corsica. Years roll on, and we find our gardens denuded of a bulb, +the favourite habitat of which must lie at least eight hundred miles +from Corsica as the crow flies. How unlikely was it, sir, that you +or I, considering these tulips with what I may perhaps call our +finite intelligence--" + +"Step around, Mr. Collector, and have a look at them. You can unfold +your argument over a glass of wine, if you will do me that pleasure." +The Major had a high opinion of Mr. Pennefather's conversation; he +was accustomed to say that it made you think. + +"If you are sure, sir, it will not incommode you?" + +"Not in the least. I expect Hansombody will join us presently. +Scipio, bring out the brown sherry." + +Now the Major had not invited Dr. Hansombody; yet that he expected +him is no less certain than that, while he spoke, Dr. Hansombody was +actually lifting the knocker of the front door. + +How did this happen? The Major--so used was he to the phenomenon-- +accepted it as a matter of course. Hansombody (good soul!) had a +wonderful knack of turning up when wanted. But what attracted him? +Was it perchance that magnetic force of will which our Major, and all +truly great men, unconsciously exert? No; the explanation was a +simpler one, though the Major would have been inexpressibly shocked +had he suspected it. + +Miss Marty and Dr. Hansombody were mutually enamoured. + +They never told their love. To acknowledge it nakedly to one +another--nay, even to themselves--had been treason. What? +Could Miss Marty disturb the comfort, could her swain destroy the +confidence, could they together forfeit the esteem, of their common +hero? In converse they would hymn antiphonally his virtues, his +graces of mind and person; even as certain heathen fanatics, wounding +themselves in honour of their idol, will drown the pain by loud +clashings of cymbals. + +They never told their love, and yet, as the old song says: + + "But if ne'er so close ye wall him, + Do the best that ye may, + Blind Love, if so ye call him, + He will find out his way." + +Miss Marty had found out a way. + +The Major's house, as you have been told, looked down the length of +Fore Street; and on the left hand (the harbour side) of Fore Street, +at some seventy yards' distance, Dr. Hansombody resided over his +dispensary, or, as he preferred to call it, his "Medical Hall." +The house stood aligned with its neighbours but overtopped them by an +attic storey; and in the north side of this attic a single window +looked up the street to the Major's windows--Miss Marty's among the +rest--and was visible from them. + +Behind this attic window the Doctor, when released from professional +labours, would sit and read, or busy himself in arranging his cases +of butterflies, of which he had a famous collection; and somehow--I +cannot tell you when or how, except that it began in merest +innocence--Miss Marty had learnt to signal with her window-blind and +the Doctor to reply with his. This evening, for instance, by +lowering her blind to the foot of the second pane from the top, Miss +Marty had telegraphed,-- + +"The Major requests you to call and take wine with him." + +The Doctor drew his blind down rapidly and as rapidly raised it +again. This said, "I come at once," and Miss Marty knew that it +added, "On the wings of love!" + +A slight agitation of the lower left-hand corner of her blind +supplemented the message thus,-- + +"There will be brown sherry." + +"Then will I also call to-morrow," said the Doctor's blind, +roguishly, meaning that if the Major indulged in brown sherry (which +never agreed with him) this convivial visit would almost certainly be +followed by a professional one. Miss Marty, having no signal for the +green-sealed Madeira, postponed explanation, and drew her blind +midway down the window. The Doctor did the same with his. +This signal and its answer invariably closed their correspondence; +but what it meant, what tender message it conveyed, remained an +uncommunicated secret. By it Miss Marty--but shall I reveal the +arcana of that virgin breast? Let us be content to know that +whatever it conveyed was, on her part, womanly; on his, gallant and +even dashing. + +The Doctor lost no time in fetching his hat and gold-topped cane. +He knew the Major's brown sherry; it had twice made a voyage to the +West Indies. He hied him up the street with alacrity. + +The Collector, though he had the worse of the start, was not slow. +He also had tasted the Major's brown sherry. He closed his ledgers, +locked his desk, caught up his hat, and was closing the Custom House +door behind him when, from the top of the Custom House steps, he saw +the Major's door open to admit Dr. Hansombody. + +Ye who listen with credulity to the whispers of fancy and pursue in +imagination the pleasures of hope, attend to the story of Dr. +Hansombody, Mr. Pennefather, and the brown sherry! + +"Dr. Hansombody?" With her own hand Miss Marty opened the door, and +her start of surprise was admirably affected. (Ah, Miss Marty! +Who was it rated Lavinia this morning for a verbal fib, until the +poor child dropped her head upon the kitchen table and with sobs +confessed herself the chief of sinners?) But even as she welcomed +the apothecary, her gaze fell past him upon the form of a stranger +who, sauntering up the street, had paused at the gate to scan the +Major's house-front. + +"I ask your pardon." The stranger, a long, lean, lantern-jawed man, +raised his hat and addressed her with a strong French accent. +"But does Mr. Hymen inhabit here?" + +"Yes, sir; Major Hymen--that is to say the Mayor--lives here." + +"Ah! he is also the Maire? So much the better." He drew out a card. +"Will it please you, mademoiselle, to convey this to him?" + +Standing on the third step he held up the card. Miss Marty took it +and read, "M. Cesar Dupin." + +"Of Guernsey," added M. Dupin, rubbing his long unshaven chin while +he stole a long look at the Doctor. "It is understood that I come +only to lodge a complaint." + +"To be sure--to be sure," agreed the Doctor, hurriedly. "A Guernsey +merchant," he whispered. . . . "You will convey my excuses to the +Major; an unexpected visitor--I quite understand." + +He made a motion to retire. At the same moment the Collector, after +scanning the stranger from the Custom House porch, himself unseen, +unlocked his door again without noise, re-entered his office and +delicately drew down the blind of the little window overlooking the +Major's garden. + +"There is the parlour," Miss Marty made answer in an undertone. +"This gentleman may not detain the Major long." She turned to the +stranger. "Your business, sir, is doubtless private?" + +"I should prefer." + +"Quite so." She raised her voice and called, "Scipio! Scipio! +Ah, there you are! Take this gentleman's card out to the terrace and +inform the Major that he desires an interview." + + +"Why, hallo!" exclaimed the Major, glancing up at the sound of a +blind being drawn above, in the Custom House window. "What the deuce +is delaying Pennefather?" + +While he speculated, Scipio emerged from the house, bearing in one +hand a decanter of brown sherry, and in the other a visitor's card. + +"Eh--what? M. Cesar Dupin?" The Major, holding the card almost at +arm's length, conned it with a puzzled frown. + +"From Guernsey, Major." + +"Good Lord! And I've just invited Pennefather!" The Major rose +half-way from his chair with a face of dismay. + +Scipio glanced up at the Custom House window. He, too, had caught +the sound of the drawn blind. + +"Mas' Pennefather, Major, if you'll excuse me, he see a hole t'ro' a +ladder, but not t'ro' a brick wall. Shall I show the genelman in?" + + +"I fear," began Miss Marty, as the Doctor took a seat in the parlour, +"I greatly fear that Scipio has carried the brown sherry out to the +terrace." + +Dr. Hansombody smiled as a lover but sighed as a connoisseur. + +"There is the Fra Angelico, however." She stepped to a panelled +cupboard on the right of the chimney-piece. "Made from my own +recipe," she added archly. + +The Doctor lifted a hand in faint protest; but already she had set a +glass before him. He knew the Fra Angelico of old. It was a +specific against catarrh, and he had more than once prescribed it for +Scipio. + +"Wine is wine," continued Miss Marty, reaching down the bottle. +"And, after all, when one knows what it is made of, as in this case-- +that seems to me the great point." + +"You mustn't think--" began the Doctor. + +"I must plead guilty"--Miss Marty poured out a glassful--"if its name +suggests a foreign origin. You men, I know, profess a preference for +foreign wines; and so, humorously, I hit on the name of Fra Angelico, +from the herb angelica, which is its main ingredient. In reality, as +I can attest, it is English to the core." + +The Doctor lifted his glass and set it down again. + +"You will join me?" he asked, pointing to the decanter and +temporising. + +"Pardon me. I indulge but occasionally: when I have a cold." + +"And the Major?" + +"He pleads habit. He says he is wedded to the vintages of France and +Spain. 'What?' I rally him, 'when those two nations are at war with +us? And you call yourself a patriot?' He permits these railleries." + +"He is a man in a thousand!" + +"There is no man like him!" + +"If we exclude a certain resemblance--" + +"You refer to the Prince Regent? But I was thinking only of _moral_ +grandeur." + +"True. All else, if one may say so without disloyalty, is but +skin-deep." + +"Superficial." + +"Thank you, the expression is preferable, and I ask your leave to +substitute it." + +"Solomon, my kinsman, is the noblest of men." + +"And you, Miss Marty, the best of women!" cried the Doctor, taking +fire and a sip of the Fra Angelico together, and gulping the latter +down heroically. "I drink to you; nay, if I dared, I would go even +farther-- + +"No, no, I beg of you!" Her eyes, downcast before this sudden +assault, let fall two happy tears, but a feeble gesture of the hand +besought his mercy. "Let us talk of _him_," she went on +breathlessly. "His elevation of character--" + +"If he were to marry, now?" the Doctor suggested. "Have you thought +of that?" + +"Sometimes," she admitted, with a flutter of the breath, which +sounded almost like a sigh. + +"It would serve to perpetuate--" + +"But where to find one worthy of him? She must be capable of rising +to his level; rather, of continuing there." + +"You are sure that is necessary? Now, in my experience," the Doctor +inclined his head to one side and rubbed his chin softly between +thumb and forefinger--a favourite trick of his when diagnosing a +case--"in my observation, rather, some disparity of temper, taste, +character, may almost be postulated of a completely happy alliance; +as in chemistry you bring together an acid and an alkali, and, always +provided they don't explode--" + +"_He_ would never be satisfied with that. Believe me, the woman he +condescends upon must, in return for that happy privilege, surrender +her whole fate into his hands. Beneath his deference to our sex he +carries an imperious will, and would demand no less." + +"There _is_ a little bit of that about him, now you mention it," +assented the Doctor. + +"But let us not cheat--" Miss Marty checked herself suddenly. +"Let us not vex ourselves with any such apprehensions. He will never +marry, I am convinced. I cannot imagine him in the light of a +parent--with offspring, for instance. Rather, when I see him in his +regimentals, or, again, in his mayoral robe and chain--you have +noticed how they become him?--" + +The Doctor admitted, with a faint sigh, that he had. + +"Well, then, he puts me in mind of that--what d'you call it, which +the poets tell us is reproduced but once in several hundred years?" + +"The blossoming aloe?" suggested the Doctor. + +Miss Marty shook her head. "It's not a plant--it's a kind of bird. +It begins with 'P, h,'--and you think of Dublin." + +"Let me see--Phelim? No, I have it! Phoenix." + +"That's it--Phoenix. And when it's going to die it lights a fire and +sits down upon it and another springs up from the ashes." + +"But I don't see how that applies to the Major." + +"No-o?" queried Miss Marty, dubiously. "Well, not in every +particular; but the point is, there's only one at a time." + +"The same might be said," urged the Doctor, delicately, "of other +individual members of the Town Council; with qualifications, of +course." + +"And somehow I feel--I can't help a foreboding--that if ever we lose +him it will be in some such way." + +"Miss Marty!" The Doctor stood up, with horror-stricken face. + +"There, now! You may call me fanciful, but I can't help it. +And you've spilled the Fra Angelico! Let me pour you out another +glassful." + +"We must all die," answered the Doctor inconsequently, not yet master +of himself. + +"Except a few Bible characters," said Miss Marty, filling his glass. +"But what the town would do without _him_ I can't think. In a sense +he _is_ the town." + +A moment before the Doctor had all but denied it; but now, overcome +by the thought of a world without the Major, he hid his face. For a +moment, if but in thought, he had been disloyal to his friend, his +hero! + + +Miss Marty said afterwards that, although not accustomed to prophesy +and humbly aware that it was out of her line, she must have spoken +under inspiration. She was wont also, when she recalled her +forebodings and the events that followed and so signally fulfilled +them, to regret that when the Guernsey merchant took his leave, an +hour later, she omitted to take note of his boots; it being an +article of faith with her that, in his traffic with mortals, the +Prince of Darkness could not help betraying himself by his cloven +hoof. + +In the garden meanwhile the Major and his guest were making very good +weather of it, as we say in Troy; the one with his Madeira, the other +with the brown sherry. I leave the reader to discern the gist of +their talk from its technicalities. + +"Three gross of ankers, you say?" queried the Major. + +"At four gallons the anker, and six francs the gallon." + +"It is a large venture." + +"And, for that reason, dirt cheap. To my knowledge there is not a +firm in Guernsey at this moment doing trade at less than seven francs +the gallon in parcels under five hundred gallons." + +"Yes, yes." The Major lit his pipe and puffed meditatively. "I am +not denying that. Only, you see, on our side these large operations +rather heighten the expense than diminish it, while they heighten the +risk enormously." + +"I do not see." M. Dupin crossed his legs and awaited an explanation. + +"It is simple. So many more tubs, so many more carriers; so many +more carriers, so much the more risk of including an informer. +One hundred carriers, say, I can lay hands on, knowing them all for +tried men. Beyond that number I rely on recommendations, often +carelessly given. The risk is more than trebled. And then, the fact +of my being Mayor--" + +"I should have thought it lessened the risk." + +"In a way, yes. But in case of miscarriage, the consequences must be +more severe. I will own that you tempt me. The tubs, you say, would +be ready slung." + +"Ready slung for carriage, man or horse, whichever you prefer, with +ropes, stones and six anchors for sinking in case of emergency. +We will allow for these if they are returned." + +"To tell the truth, since becoming chief magistrate of this borough, +I have rather set my face against these operations. It has seemed to +me more consonant. . . . And an operation on the scale you propose +could not be conducted without some degree of--er--audacity." + +"It means a forced run," assented M. Dupin. + +"If, on reflection--" the Major hesitated. + +"Excuse me, but there is no time. For reasons of our own, my firm +must clear the stuff before the end of April; that is why we offer it +at the price. Three gross, with six ankers of the colouring stuff +gratis--and the tubs ready slung. It must be 'yes' or 'no'; if you +decline, then I have another customer on the string." + +"The end of April, you say?" The Major refilled his glass and mused, +holding it up against the last gleam of daylight. + +"We could ship it on the 27th or 28th. The moon serves then. +Say that you run it on the night of the 30th?" + +"Of the 30th?" echoed the Major. "But on that night, of all others, +my hands are full. To begin with, we are half-expecting the +Millennium." + +"The Millennium, _hein_?" echoed M. Dupin in his turn. "I do not +know her." + +"It's not a boat," the Major explained. "It's a--well, in fact, we +are not altogether sure what it may turn out to be. But, setting +this aside, I am engaged to conduct a military operation on the night +of the 30th." + +"_Hein_?" M. Dupin eyed his host with interest. "A counter-stroke +to the First Consul--is that so?" + +"Well, not exactly a downright counter-stroke; although, if I had my +way . . . but in fact (and I mention it in confidence, of course) our +Artillery here is planning a surprise upon our neighbours of Looe, +the descent to be made upon Talland Cove." + +M. Dupin set down his glass. "But I am in luck to-night!" said he. +"You--I--we are all in luck!" + +"Forgive me, I do not see--" + +"Oh, decidedly, I am in very great luck! If only your neighbours of +Looe--they, too, have a corps of Artillery, I suppose?" M. Dupin +felt in his breast pocket and drew out a paper. "Quick! their +officer's name?" + +"A Captain Pond commands them: Captain Aeneas Pond." + +"Pond? Pond? See now, and I have an introduction to him! And you +have arranged to surprise him on the night of April 30th--and at +Talland Cove--when there will be no moon! Oh, damgood!" + +"But even yet I do not see," the Major protested. + +"Not quite. For the moment you do not see, quite; but in a little +while." M. Dupin leaned forward and tapped the Major's knee. +"Your Artillery? You can count on them?" + +"To the death." + +"How many?" + +"Nine score, without reckoning uniforms or stretcher-bearers." + +"Stretcher-bearers?" + +"For the wounded. And, of course--during the operation you propose-- +we expect our corps to be depleted." + +"By the crews? But they will be _there_! It is of the essence of +your surprise that they, too, will return from Guernsey and join you +in time. Next, of the Looe Artillery, how many?" + +"You may put them down at seventy, all told." + +"One hundred and eighty, and seventy--that makes two hundred and +fifty; and the cognac at six francs a gallon; and this Captain Pond +commended to me for the deepest man in Looe! It is you--it is he--it +is I--it is all of us together that are in luck's way!" M. Dupin +leapt up, snapped his bony fingers triumphantly; then, thrusting his +hands beneath his coat-tails and clasping them, strode to and fro in +front of the Major, for all the world like a long-legged chanticleer. + +Ah, but wait a moment! Vainglorious bird of Gaul, or of the island +contiguous, wait a moment ere you crow before the Mayor of Troy! + +For a moment the Major lay back in his chair, to all appearance +stupefied, confounded. Then he too rose, his lips working, his hand +shaking for one instant only as with his pipe-stem he traced a +magnificent curve upon the evening sky. + +"Sit down!" he commanded. "Your plan is clever enough; but I have +another worth ten of it." + +And, laying down his pipe, this extraordinary man lifted the decanter +and refilled his glass to the brim without spilling a drop. + +What was the Major's plan? Wait again, and you shall see it evolved +in operation. + + + +CHAPTER VI. + + +MALBROUCK S'EN VA. + +"There is mischief of some sort brewing," said Mr. Smellie, the +Riding Officer. + +"You think so?" queried Mr. Pennefather, trimming a quill. + +"I'd stake my last shilling on it," said Mr. Smellie, slapping his +right boot with his riding-whip. "You, a family man, now--" + +"Eleven." + +"Quite so. Then you must know how it is with children; when they +look at you as though there was no such thing as original sin, it's +time to keep your eye lifting. Ten to one they're getting round you +with some new devilry. Well, that's the way with your Cornish." + +Mr. Smellie came from Glasgow--he and his colleague, Mr. Lomax, the +Riding Officer of the Mevagissey district which lay next to ours. +The Government, it was understood, had chosen and sent them down to +us on the strength of their sense of humour--so different from any to +be found in the Duchy. + + +It certainly was different. To Mr. Smellie, we of Troy had been at +first but as children at play by the sea; in earnest over games so +infantile as to excite his wondering disdain. He wondered yet; but +insensibly--as might happen to a man astray in fairyland--his disdain +had taken a tinge of fear. Behind "the children sporting on the +shore," his ear had begun to catch the voice of unknown waters +rolling. They came, so to speak, along the sands, these children; +innocent seeming, hilariously intent on their make-believe; and then, +on a sudden, not once but a dozen times, he had found himself +tricked, duped, tripped up and cast on his back; to rise unhurt, +indeed, but clutching at impalpable air while the empty beach rang +with teasing laughter. + +It baffled him the more because, of his own sort, he had a strong +sense of humour. It was told of Mr. Pennefather, for instance, that +during his clerkship at Penzance the Custom House there had been +openly defied by John Carter, the famous smuggler of Prussia Cove; +that once, when Carter was absent on an expedition, the Excise +officers had plucked up heart, ransacked the Cove, carried off a +cargo of illicit goods and locked it up in the Custom House; that +John Carter on his return, furious at the news of his loss, had +marched over to Penzance under cover of darkness, broken in the +Custom House and carried off his goods again; and that Mr. +Pennefather next morning, examining the rifled stores, had declared +the nocturnal visitor to be John Carter beyond a doubt, because +Carter was an honest man and wouldn't take anything that didn't +belong to him. The Riding Officer thought this a highly amusing +story, and would often twit Mr. Pennefather with it. But Mr. +Pennefather could never see the joke, and would plead,-- + +"Well, but he _was_ an honest man, wasn't he?" + +"That's the way with you Cornish," repeated Mr. Smellie; "and after a +time one learns to feel it in the air, so to speak." + +The little Collector looked up from his ledger, pushing his +spectacles high on his brow, and glanced vaguely around the office. + +"Now, for my part, I detect nothing unusual," said he. + +"Furthermore," the Riding Officer went on, still tapping his boot, +"I met a suspicious-looking fellow yesterday on the Falmouth Road; a +deucedly suspicious-looking fellow; a fellow that answered me with a +strong French accent when I spoke to him, as I made it my business to +do. He had Guernsey merchant written all over him." + +"Tattooed?" asked Mr. Pennefather, without looking up from the ledger +in which he had buried himself anew. "I had no idea they went to +such lengths . . . in Guernsey . . . and fourteen is twenty-seven, +and five is thirty-two, and thirty-two is two-and-eight. . . . I beg +your pardon? You identified him, then?" + +Mr. Smellie frowned. "I shall send up a private note to the +Barracks; and meanwhile, I advise you to keep an eye lifting." + +"And ten is three-and-six. . . . An eye lifting, certainly," assented +Mr. Pennefather, without, however, immediately acting on this advice. + +"There's that fellow Hymen, now, next door. He's not altogether the +ass he looks, or my name's not Smellie." + +"But it is, surely?" Mr. Pennefather looked up in innocent surprise. +"And you really think it justifies calling in the Dragoons?" + +"On the face of it, no; I've no evidence. And yet, I repeat, there's +some mischief afoot. This new game of Hymen's, for instance--Before +coming down to these parts"--Mr. Smellie threw a fine condescension +into this phrase--"I should have thought it impossible that anyone in +the shape of a man, let alone of a Major of Artillery, could solemnly +propose to test a neighbouring corps by a night attack, and then as +solemnly give warning on what night he meant to deliver it." + +Mr. Pennefather took off his spectacles and polished them with his +silk handkerchief. "But without that precaution he would find nobody +to attack." + +"I tell you, it's absurd! And yet," the Riding Officer went on +irritably, "if one could count on its being absurd, I wouldn't mind. +But there's just a chance that, with all this foolery, Hymen and Pond +are covering up a little game. Why have they chosen Talland Cove, +now?" + +"I suppose because, for a night attack on Looe, there's no better +spot." + +"Nor for running a cargo. I tell you, I shall keep the Dragoons on +the alert." + +"You don't suggest that you suspect--" + +"Suspect? I suspect everybody. It's the rule of the service; and by +following it I've reached the position I hold to-day." + +"True." The Collector readjusted his spectacles and returned to his +figures. There may have been just a hint of condolence in his +accent, for the Riding Officer looked up sharply. + +"If you lived in the north, Pennefather, do you know what we should +say about you? We should say that you were no very gleg in the +uptake." + +"I once," answered the Collector, gently, without lifting his head +from the ledger, "began to read Burns, but had to give him up on +account of the dialect." + + +Meanwhile, all unaware of these dark suspicions, the Major and his +Gallants were perfecting their preparations for the great surprise. + +And what preparations! In the heat of them we had almost forgotten +the Millennium itself! + +For weeks the band had been practising a selection of tunes +appropriate (1) to invasions in general and (2) to this particular +invasion. There was "Britons, Strike Home!" for instance, and +"The Padstow Hobby-horse," and "The Rout it is out for the Blues," +slightly amended for the occasion: + + "As I was a-walking on Downderry sands, + Some dainty fine sport for to view, + The maidens were wailing and wringing their hands-- + Oh, the Rout it is out for the Looes, + For the Looes, + Oh, the Rout it is out for the Looes." + +The very urchins whistled and sang it about the streets. On the +other hand, the Major's chivalrous proposal to hymn _The George of +Looe_ came to nothing, since Captain Pond could supply him with +neither the words nor the air. + +"Notwithstanding all my researches," he wrote, "the utmost I can +discover is the following stanza which Gunner Israel Spettigew-- +vulgarly termed Uncle Issy--one of my halest veterans, remembers to +have heard sung in his youth: + + "'Oh, the _George of Looe_ sank Number One; + She then sank Number Two; + She finished up with Number Three: + And hooray for the _George of Looe_'!" + +"Dammy!" said the Major, "and I dare say that passes for invention +over at Looe." + +We in Troy were no paupers of invention, at any rate. Take, for +example, the Major's plan of campaign. First of all you must figure +to yourself a _terrain_ shaped like a triangle--almost an equilateral +triangle--with its base resting on the sea. At the western extremity +of this base stands Troy; at the eastern, Looe, with Talland Cove a +little to this side of it. For western side of the triangle we have +the Troy River; and for apex the peaceful village of Lerryn, set in +apple-orchards, where the tidal waters end by a narrow bridge. +For the eastern side we take, not the Looe River (which doesn't +count), but an ancient earthwork, known as the Devil's Hedge, which +stretches across country from Looe up to Lerryn. Who built this +earthwork, or when he did it, or for what purpose, no one can tell; +but the Looe folk will quote you the following distich,-- + + "One day the Devil, having nothing to do, + Built a great hedge from Lerryn to Looe." + +(Invention again!) + +Of these things, then (as Herodotus puts it), let so much be said. +But thus we get our triangle: the sea coast (base), the Troy River +and the Devil's Hedge (sides), meeting at the village of Lerryn +(apex) among the orchards. + +Now these orchards, you must know, on May mornings when the tide +served, were the favourite rendezvous for the lads and maidens of +Troy, and even for the middle-aged and married; who would company +thither by water, to wash their faces in the dew, and eat cream, +and see the sun rise, and afterwards return chorussing, their boats +draped with green boughs. + +This year the tide, indeed, served for Lerryn: but this year the +maidens of Troy, if they would fare thither to pay their vows, must +fare alone. Their swains would be bent upon a sterner errand. + +So their Commander by secret orders had dictated, and all the town +knew of it; also that the landing was to be effected in Talland Cove, +and that, if success waited on their arms, supper would be provided +at the Sloop Inn, Looe. One hundred and fifty fighting men would go +to the assault, in fourteen row-boats, with muffled oars. This +number included the band. The residue of thirty men, making up the +full strength of the corps, had disappeared from Troy some ten days +before, on an errand which will appear hereafter. + +But the fair were inconsolable. Almost, for some forty-eight hours-- +that is to say, after the news leaked out--our Major was the most +unpopular man in Troy with them who had ever been his warmest +supporters. War was war, no doubt; and women must mourn at home +while men imbrued themselves in the gallant strife. But May-day, +too, was May-day; and the tides served; and, further, there was this +talk about a Millennium, and whatever the Millennium might be (and +nobody but the Mayor and the Vicar, unless it were Dr. Hansombody, +seemed to know), it was certainly not an occasion on which women +ought to be left without their natural protectors. Even the +Ambulance Corps was bound for Looe, in eight additional boats. +There would be scarce a row-boat left in the harbour, or the ladies +might have pulled up to Lerryn on their own account. + +The Major suspected these murmurings, yet he kept an unruffled brow: +yes, even though harassed with vexations which these ladies could not +guess--the possible defection of Hansombody, for instance. + +It was not Hansombody's fault: but Sir Felix Felix-Williams, who +owned the estate as well as the village of Lerryn, had reason to +expect an addition to his family. Dr. Hansombody could not guarantee +that he might not be summoned to Pentethy, Sir Felix's mansion, at +any moment. + +Now, for excellent reasons--which, again, will appear--the Major +could not afford to make Sir Felix an enemy at this moment. +Besides, these domestic events were the little apothecary's bread and +butter. + +On the other hand, the absence of a professional man must seriously +discredit the role assigned to the Ambulance Corps in any engagement, +however bloodless. + +"You might," the Major suggested, "nominate half a dozen as deputy or +assistant surgeons. You could easily pick out those who have shown +most intelligence at your lectures." + +"True," agreed the Doctor; "but as yet we have not, in my lectures, +advanced so far as flesh-wounds. They would know what to do, I hope, +if confronted with frost-bite, snake-bite, sunstroke or incipient +croup--from all of which our little expedition will be (under +Providence) immune, and I have as yet confined myself to directing +them, in all cases which apparently differ from these, to run to the +nearest medical man." + +"Well, well!" sighed the Major. "Then, if the worst come to the +worst and you cannot accompany us, we must rely on the good offices +of the enemy. They have no qualified surgeon, I believe: but the +second lieutenant, young Couch of Polperro, is almost out of his +articles and ready to proceed to Guy's. A clever fellow, too, they +tell me." + +"You understand that if I fail you, it will be through no want of +zeal?" + +"My friend"--the Major turned on him with a smile at once magnanimous +and tender--"I believe you ask nothing better than to accompany me." + +"To the death!" said the Doctor, in a low voice and fervently. +Then, after a pause full of emotion, "Your dispositions are all +taken?" + +"All, I believe. Chinn has drawn up a new will for me, which I have +signed, and it lies at this moment in my deed-box. I took the +liberty to appoint you an executor." + +"You would not ask me to survive you!" (O Friendship! O exemplars +of a sterner age! O Rome! O Cato!) "Not to mention," went on the +Doctor, "that I must be by five or six years your senior, and in the +ordinary course of events--" + +Major Hymen dismissed the ordinary course of events with a wave of +the hand. + +"I ask it as a personal favour." + +"It is an honour then, and I accede." + +"For the rest, I am keeping that fellow Smellie on the _qui vive_. +For three days past he has been promenading the cliffs with his +spy-glass. I would not lightly depreciate any man, but Smellie has +one serious fault--he is ambitious." + +"Such men are to be found in every walk of life." + +"I fear so. Ambition is like to be Smellie's bane. He is jealous of +sharing any credit with the Preventive crews, and is keeping them +without information. On the other hand he delights in ordering about +a military force; which, in a civilian, is preposterous." + +"Quite preposterous." + +"The Dragoons, of course, hate working under his orders: but I shall +be surprised if he resist the temptation to call them in and dress +himself in a little brief authority. Further, I have word from +Polperro that he is getting together a company of the Sea Fencibles. +In short, he is playing into our hands." + +"But the boats?" + +"They are here." + +"Here?" The Doctor's eyes grew round with wonder. + +The Major swept a hand towards the horizon. + +"For two days we have been enjoying a steady southerly breeze. +They are yonder, you may be sure--the three of them: and that is +where Smellie makes a mistake in not employing the cutter." + +"And the long-boats?" + +"The long-boats are lying, as they have lain for three weeks past, in +Runnells' yard, awaiting repairs. Runnells is a dilatory fellow and +has gone no farther than to fill them with water up to the thwarts, +to test their stanchness." Here the Major allowed himself to smile. +"But Runnells, though dilatory, will launch them after dusk, while +the tide suits." + +"The tide makes until five o'clock." + +"Until five-twenty, to be correct. Before seven o'clock they will be +launched." + +"You play a bold game, dear friend. Suppose, now, that Smellie _had_ +kept the cutter cruising off the coast?" + +The Major smiled again, this time with _finesse_. "The man is +ambitious, I tell you. By employing the cutter he might indeed have +intercepted the cargo. But he flies at higher game." Here the Major +lightly tapped his chest to indicate the quarry. "In generalship, my +dear doctor, to achieve anything like the highest success, you must +fight with two heads--your own and your adversary's. By putting +myself in Smellie's place; by descending (if I may so say) into the +depths of his animal intelligence, by interpreting his hopes, his +ambitions . . . well, in short, I believe we have weathered the risk. +The Mevagissey fleet puts out to the grounds to-night, to anchor and +drop nets as usual. With them our friends from Guernsey--shall we +say?--will mingle as soon as night is fallen, hang out _their_ +riding-lights, lower _their_ nets, and generally behave in a fashion +indistinguishable from that of other harvesters of the sea, until the +hour when, with lightened hulls and, I trust, in full regimentals +(for they carry their uniforms on board) they join us for the Grand +Assault." + +"But--excuse me--how much does the town know of this programme?" + +The Major shrugged his shoulders. "As little as I could manage. +I have incurred some brief unpopularity, no doubt, among the fairer +portion of our community, who deem that I am denying them their +annual May-day jaunt. But never fear. I will explain all to-night, +before embarkation." + +"They may murmur," answered Dr. Hansombody, "but in their hearts they +trust you." + +The Major's eyes filled with tears. + +"The path of duty is strewn with more than roses at times. I thank +you for that assurance, my friend." + +They grasped hands in silence. + +Troy remembered later--it had reason to remember--through what +halcyon weather April passed, that year, into May. For three days a +gentle breeze had blown from the south; for three more days it +continued, dying down at nightfall and waking again at dawn. +Stolen days they seemed: cloudless, gradual, golden; a theft of +Spring from Harvest-tide. Unnatural weather, many called it: for the +air held the warmth of full summer before the first swallow appeared, +and while as yet the cuckoo, across the harbour, had been heard by +few. + +The after-glow of sunset had lingered, but had faded at length, +taking the new moon with it, leaving a night so pale, so clear, so +visibly domed overhead, that almost the eye might trace its curve and +assign to each separate star its degree of magnitude. Beyond the +harbour's mouth the riding-lights of the Mevagissey fishing fleet ran +like a carcanet of faint jewels, marking the unseen horizon of the +Channel. The full spring tide, soundless or scarcely lapping along +shore, fell back on its ebb, not rapidly as yet, but imperceptibly +gathering speed. Below the Town Quay in the dark shadow lay the +boats--themselves a shadowy crowd, ghostly, with a glimmer of white +paint here and there on gunwales, thwarts, stern-sheets. Their +thole-pins had been wrapped with oakum and their crews sat +whispering, ready, with muffled oars. On the Quay, lantern in hand, +the Major moved up and down between his silent ranks, watched by a +shadowy crowd. + +In that crowd, as I am credibly informed, were gathered--but none +could distinguish them--gentle and simple, maiden ladies with their +servants or housekeepers, side by side with longshoremen, hovellers, +giglet maids, and urchins; all alike magnetised and drawn thither by +the Man and the Hour. But the Major recognised none of them. +His dispositions had been made and perfected a full week before; how +thoroughly they had been perfected might be read in the mute alacrity +with which man after man, squad after squad, without spoken command +yet in unbroken order, dissolved out of the ranks and passed down to +the boats. You could not see that Gunner Tippet, being an +asthmatical man, wore a comforter and a respirating shield; nor that +Sergeant Sullivan, as notoriously susceptible to the night air, +carried a case-bottle and a small basket of boiled sausages. Yet +these and a hundred other separate and characteristic necessities had +been foreseen and provided for. + +Van, mainguard, rearguard, band, ambulance, forlorn hope, all were +embarked at length. Lieutenant Chinn saluted, reported the entire +flotilla ready, saluted again, and descended the steps with the +Doctor (Sir Felix had sent no word, after all). Only the Major +remained on the Quay's edge. Overhead rode the stars; around him in +the penumbra of the lantern's rays the crowd pressed forward timidly. +He turned. + +"Fellow-citizens," he said, and his voice trembled on the words, but +in an instant was steady again, "you surmise, no doubt, the purpose +of this expedition. An invader menaces these shores, the defence of +which has been committed to us. Of the ultimate invincibility of +that defence I have no doubt whatever; nevertheless, it may expose +here and there a vulnerable point. It is to test the alertness of +our neighbours of Looe that we abstract ourselves for a few hours +from the comforts of home, the society of the fair, in some instances +the embraces of our loved ones, and embark upon an element which, +to-night propitious, might in other moods have engulfed, if it did +not actually force us to postpone, our temerity--" (Here a voice +said, "Well done, Major; give 'em Troy!") + +"Methinks," continued the Major, elevating his lantern and turning to +that part of the crowd whence the interruption had proceeded, +"methinks I hear some fair one sigh, 'But why to-night? Why on the +eve of May-day, when we are wont to seek one or other of those rural +spots, vales, hamlets, remote among our river's lovelier reaches, +where annually the tides have mirrored at sunrise our gala companies +and the green woods responded to our innocent mirth? Why on this +consecrated eve distract our hitherto faithful swains and lead their +steps divergent at an angle of something like thirty degrees?' +I have reason to believe that some such tender complaints have made +themselves audible, and it is painful to me to suffer the imputation +of lack of feeling, even from an Aeolian harp. Yet I have suffered +it, awaiting the moment to reassure you. + +"Yes, ladies, be reassured! We depart indeed for Looe; but we hope, +ere dawn, to meet you at Lerryn and be rewarded with your approving +smiles. At nine-thirty precisely the three long-boats, _Naiad_, +_Nautilus_, and _Corona_, which have lain for some weeks under repair +in Mr. Runnells' yard, will pass this Quay and proceed seaward, each +manned by an able, if veteran, crew. After a brief trip outside the +harbour--to test their stanchness--they will return to the Quay to +embark passengers, and start at 2 a.m. on the excursion up the river +to our rendezvous at Lerryn. Nay!" the Major turned at the head of +the steps and lifted a hand--"I will accept of you no thanks but +this, that during the few arduous hours ahead of us we carry your +wishes, ladies, as a prosperous breeze behind our banners!" + +"Now isn't he a perfect duck?" demanded Miss Sally Tregentil, turning +in the darkness and addressing Miss Pescod, whose strongly marked and +aquiline features she had recognised in the last far-flung ray of the +Major's lantern. + +"My good Sarah! _You_ here?" answered Miss Pescod, divided between +surprise, disapproval and embarrassment. + +"At such a period--a crisis, one might almost say--when the fate of +Europe . . . and after all, if it comes to that, so are you." + +"For my part--" began Miss Pescod, and ended with a sigh. + +"For my part," declared Miss Sally, hardily, "I shall go to Lerryn." + +"Sally!" + +"It used to be great fun. In later years mamma disapproved, but +there is (may I confess it?) this to be said for war, that beneath +its awful frown--under cover of what I may venture to call the +shaking of its gory locks--you can do a heap of things you wouldn't +dream of under ordinary circumstances. Life, though more precarious, +becomes distinctly less artificial. Two years ago, for instance, +lulled in a false security by the so-called Peace of Amiens, I should +as soon have thought of flying through the air." + +"Has it occurred to you," Miss Pescod suggested, "what might happen +if the Corsican, taking advantage to-night of our dear Major's +temporary absence--" + +"Don't!" Miss Sally interrupted with a shiver. "Oh, decidedly I +shall go to Lerryn to-night! On second thoughts it would be only +proper." + +On the dark waters below them, beyond the Quay, a hoarse military +voice gave the command to "Give way!" One by one on the +fast-dropping tide the boats, keeping good order, headed for the +harbour's mouth. The Major led. _O navis, referent_ . . . + +Think, I pray you, of Wolfe dropping down the dark St. Lawrence; of +Wolfe and, ahead of him, the Heights of Abraham! + + + +CHAPTER VII. + + +THE BATTLE OF TALLAND COVE. + + "Now entertain conjecture of a time + When creeping murmur and the poring dark + Fills the wide vessel of the universe. . . ." + +The _avant-garde_ of the Looe Diehards occupied, and had been +occupying for two dark hours--in a sitting posture--the ridge of rock +which, on its eastern side, sheltered Talland Cove. One may say, +considering the heavy dew and the nature of the ridge--of slate +formation and sharply serrated--they had clung to it obstinately. +Above them the clear and constellated dome of night turned almost +perceptibly around its pole. At their feet the tide lapped the +beach, phosphorescent, at the last draught of ebb. + +Somewhere in the darkness at the head of the beach--either by the +footbridge where the stream ran down, or in the meadow behind it--lay +the main body. A few outposts had been flung wide to the westward, +and Captain Pond for the second time had walked off to test their +alertness and give and receive the password--"_Death to the +Invader_." + +"And a more cold-running act of defiance I don't remember to have +heard--no, not in all my years of service," said Gunner Israel +Spettigew, a cheerful sexagenarian, commonly known as Uncle Issy, +discussing it with his comrades on the ridge. "There's a terrible +downrightness about that word 'death.' Speaking for myself, and +except in the way of business, I wouldn' fling it at a cat." + +"'Tis what we must all come to," said Gunner Oke, a young married +man, gloomily shifting his seat. + +"True, lad, true. Then why cast it up against any man in particular, +be he French or English? Folks in glass houses, simmin' to me, +shouldn' throw stones." + +"I reckon you fellows might find something more cheerful to talk +about." Gunner Oke shifted his seat again, and threw a nervous +glance seaward. + +"William Oke, William Oke, you'll never make a sojer! Now I mind +back in 'seventy-nine when the fleets of France an' Spain assembled +and come together agen us--sixty-six sail of the line, my billies, +besides frigates an' corvettes an' such-like small trade; an' the +folks at Plymouth blowing off their alarm-guns, an' the signals +flying from Maker Tower--a bloody flag at the masthead an' two blue +uns at the outriggers. Four days they laid to, in sight of the +assembled multitude of Looe, an' Squire Buller rode down to form us +up to oppose 'em. 'Hallo!' says the Squire, catching sight of me. +'Where's your gun? Don't begin for to tell me that a han'some, +well-set-up, intelligent chap like Israel Spettigew is for hangin' +back at his country's call!' 'Squire,' says I, 'you've a-pictered me +to a hair. But there's one thing you've left out. I've been turnin' +it over, an' I don't see that I'm fit to die.' 'Why not?' says he. +'I'm not a saved man like them other chaps,' says I. 'I've had a few +convictions of sin, but that's as far as it's gone.' 'Tut,' says he, +'have you ever broken the Commandments?' 'What's that?' I asks. +'Why, the things up at the end of the church, inside the rails.' +'I never married my gran'mother, if that's what you mean,' I says. +'That's the Affini-ety Table,' says he, 'but have 'ee ever made to +yourself a graven image?' 'Lord, no,' I says, 'I leaves that +nigglin' work to the I-talians.' 'Have 'ee honoured your father an' +your mother?' 'They took damgood care about that,' says I. +'Well, then, have 'ee ever coveted your neighbour's wife?' 'No,' I +says, 'I never could abide the woman.' 'Come, come,' says he, 'did +'ee ever commit murder upon a man?' 'That's a leadin' question from +a magistrate,' I says; 'but I don't mind ownin', as man to man, that +I never did.' 'Then,' says he, 'the sooner you pitch-to and larn the +better.'" + +"The bloodthirsty old termigant!" + +"'Twas the way of us all in the year 'seventy-nine," the old man +admitted modestly. "A few throats up or down--Lord bless 'ee!--we +talked of it as calm as William Oke might talk of killin' a pig! +And, after all, what's our trade here to-night but battery and +murder?" + +"But 'tisn' the French we'm expectin'," urged Oke, whose mind moved +slowly. + +"'Tis the same argyment with these billies from Troy. Troy an' Looe. +What's between the two in an ordinary way? A few miles; which to a +thoughtful mind is but mud and stones, with two-three churches and a +turnpike to keep us in mind of Adam's fall. Why, my own brother +married a maid from there!" + +"'Tis the Almighty's doin'," said Sergeant Pengelly; "He's +hand-in-glove with King George, and, while that lasts, us poor +subject fellows have got to hate Bonyparty with all our heart and +with all our mind and with all our soul and with all our strength, +for richer for poorer, till death us do part, and not to be afraid +with any amazement. To my mind, that's half the fun of being a +sojer; the pay's small and the life's hard, and you keep ungodly +hours; but 'tis a consolation to sit out here 'pon a rock and know +you'm a man of blood and breaking every mother's son of the Ten +Commandments wi' the Lord's leave." + +"What's _that_!" Gunner Oke gripped the Sergeant's arm of a sudden +and leaned forward, straining his ears. + +Someone was crossing the track towards them with wary footsteps, +picking his way upon the light shingle by the water's edge. +Presently a voice, hoarse and low, spoke up to them out of the +darkness. + +"Hist, there! Silence in the ranks!" The speaker was Captain Pond +himself. "A man can hear that old fool Spettigew's cackle half-way +across the Cove. They're coming, I tell you!" + +"Where, Cap'n? Where?" + +"Bare half-a-mile t'other side of Downend Point. Is the first rocket +ready?" + +"Ay, ay, Cap'n." + +"And the flint and steel?" + +"Here, between my knees: and Oke beside me, ready with the fuse. +Got the fuse, Oke?" + +"If--if you p-please, sir--" + +"What's wrong?" + +"If you p-please, sir, I've chewed up the fuse by mistake!" + +"_What_'s he saying?" + +"I got it m-mixed up, sir, here in the d-dead darkness with my quid +o' baccy--and I th-think I'm goin' to be sick." + +"'Tis the very right hand o' Providence, then, that I brought a spare +one," spoke up Pengelly. "Here, Un' Issy--_you_ take hold--" + +"Everything must follow in order, mind," Captain Pond commanded. +"As soon as the first boat takes ground, you challenge: then count +five, and up goes the rocket. Eh?" The Captain swung round at the +sound of another footstep on the shingle. "Is that you, Clogg? +Man, but you made me jump!" + +"Captain Pond! Oh, Captain Pond!" stammered the new-comer, who was +indeed no other than Mr. Clogg, senior lieutenant of the Diehards. + +"Why have you left your post, sir? Don't stand there clinky-clanking +your sword on the pebbles--catch it up under your arm, sir: you're +making noise enough to scare the dead! Now, then, what have you to +report? Nothing wrong with the main body, I hope?" + +"A man might call it ghosts"--Mr. Clogg in the darkness passed a +sleeve across his clammy brow--"A man might call it ghosts, Captain +Pond, and another might set it down to drink. But you know my +habits." + +"Be quick, man! You've seen something? What is it?" + +"Ah, what indeed? You may well ask it, sir: though not if you was to +put the Book into my hands at this moment and ask me to kiss it--" + +"Clogg," interrupted the Captain, stepping close and gripping him by +the upper arm, "will you swear to me you have not been drinking?" + +"Yes and no, Captain. That is, it began with my stepping up the +valley to the farm for a dollop of hot water--I'd a thimbleful of +schnapps in my flask here--and the night turning chilly, and me +remembering that Mrs. Nankivel up to the farm was keeping the kettle +on the boil, because she promised as much only last night, knowing my +stomach to be susceptible. Well, sir, not meaning to be away more'n +a moment--as I was going up the meadow, but keeping along the +withy-bed, you understand?--and if I hadn't taken that road, more by +instinct than anything else--" + +"Oh, for Heaven's sake, if you've anything important to say, say it! +In another five minutes the boats will be here!" + +"I don't know what you'd call 'important,'" answered the Lieutenant, +in an aggrieved tone. "As I was telling, I got to where the +withy-bed ends at the foot of the orchard below the house. +The orchard, as you know, runs down on one side of the stream, and +'tother side there's the grass meadow they call Little Parc. Just at +that moment, if you'll believe me, I heard a man sneeze, and 'pon top +of that a noise like a horse's bit shaken--a sort of jingly sound, +not ten paces off, t'other side of the withies. 'Tis a curious habit +of mine--and you may or may not have noticed it--but I never can hear +another person sneeze without wanting to sneeze too. Hows'ever, +there's a way of stopping it by putting your thumb on your top lip +and pressing hard, and that's what I did, and managed to make very +little noise; so that it surprised me when somebody said, 'Be quiet, +you fool there!' But he must have meant it for the other man. +Well, ducking down behind the withies and peeking athurt the +darkness, by degrees I made out a picter that raised the very hairs +on the back of my neck. Yonder, on the turf under the knap of Little +Parc, what do I see but a troop of horsemen drawn up, all ghostly to +behold! And yet not ghostly neither; for now and then, plain to +these fleshly ears, one o' the horses would paw the ground or another +jingle his curb-chain on the bit. I tell you, Captain, I crope away +from that sight a good fifty yards 'pon my belly before making a +break for the Cove; and when I got back close to the mainguard I +ducked my head and skirted round to the track here in search of you: +for I wouldn' be one to raise false alarms, not I! But, if you ask +my private opinion, 'tis either Old Boney hisself or the Devil, and +we'm lost to a man." + +"Good Lord!" muttered Captain Pond, half to himself. "Horsemen, you +say?" + +"Horsemen, Captain--great horsemen as tall as statues. But statues, +as I told myself, at this time o' night! 'Tis out of the question, +an' we may put it aside once for all." + +"Horsemen?" repeated Captain Pond. "There's only one explanation, +and Hymen must be warned. But I _do_ think he might have trusted +me!" + +He turned for a swift glance seaward, and at the same instant one or +two voices on the ridge above called alarm. Under the western cliff +his eye detected a line of dark shadows stealing towards the shore. + + "_Until gaining the entrance of the Cove_"--so ran the Major's + order--"_the boats will preserve single file. At Downend Point + the leading boat will halt and lie on her oars, dose inshore, + while each successor pivots and spreads in echelon to starboard, + keeping, as nearly as may be, two fathoms' distance from her + consort to port; all gradually, as the shore is approached, + rounding up for a simultaneous attack in line. The crews, on + leaping ashore, will spread and find touch with one another in + two lines, to sweep the beach. A bugle-call will announce the + arrival of each boat_." + + +The Major, erect in the bows of the leading boat, glanced over his +right shoulder and beheld his line of followers, all in perfect +order, extend themselves and close the mouth of the Cove. Ahead of +him--ahead but a few yards only--he heard the slack tide run faintly +on the shingle. From the dark beach came no sound. Overhead +quivered the expectant stars. He lifted his sword-arm, and from +point to hilt ran a swift steely glitter. + +"Give way, lads! And Saint Fimbar for Troy!" + +A stroke of the oars, defiant now, muffled no longer! Two--three +strokes, and with a jolt the boat's nose took the beach. The shock +flung the Major forward over the bows; and on all fours, with a +splash--like Julius Caesar--he saluted the soil he came to conquer. +But in an instant he stood erect again, waving his blade. + +"Forward! Forward, Troy!" + +"I beg your pardon, Hymen," interrupted Captain Pond, quietly but +seriously, stepping forth from the darkness. "Yes, yes; that's +understood--but see here now--" + +"Back, or you are my prisoner!" The Major had scrambled to his feet, +and stood waving his sword. + +"Hymen!" Captain Pond ran past the Major's guard and caught him by +the elbow. + +"Hands off, I say! Forward, Troy!" The Major struggled to disengage +his sword-arm. + +"Hymen, don't be a fool! As a friend now--though you _might_ have +taken me into your confidence--" + +"Unhand me, Pond! Though you are doing your best to spoil the whole +business--" + +"Listen to me, I say. The Dragoons--" + +But Captain Pond shouted in vain. Bugle after bugle drowned his +voice, rending the darkness. From the rocks to the eastward voices +answered them, challenging wildly. + +"Death to the invader!" + +With a _whoo-sh_ a rocket leapt into the air and burst, flooding the +beach with light, showing up every furze bush, every stone wall, +every sheep-track, on the surrounding cliffs. As if they had caught +fire from it, a score of torches broke into flame on the eastward +rocks, and in the sudden blaze, under the detonating fire of +musketry, the men of Troy could be seen tumbling out of their boats +and splashing ankle-deep to the shore. + +It was a splendid, a gallant sight. Each man, as he reached _terra +firma_, dropped on one knee, fired deliberately, reloaded, and +advanced a dozen paces. Still from the boats behind fresh +reinforcements splashed ashore and crowded into the firing-line: +while from the eastward rock the vanguard of the Diehards kept up its +deadly flanking fire, heedless of the torches that exposed them each +and all at plain target-shot to the oncoming host. + +Still, amid the pealing notes of the bugles, the Major waved his men +forward. Captain Pond, breaking loose from him and facing swiftly +towards the Cove-head, with a flourish of his blade called upon his +mainguard. + +Under the volley that thereupon swept the beach, the invaders did +indeed waver for a moment--so closely it resembled the real thing. +As the smoke lifted, however, by the murky glare of the torches they +were seen to be less demoralised than infuriated. And now, upon the +volley's echo, a drum banged thrice, and from a boat just beyond the +water's edge the Troy bandsmen crashed out with: + + "The Rout it is out for the Looes, + For the Looes; + Oh, the Rout it is out for the Looes!" + +"Forward! Forward, Troy!" + +"Steady, the Two Looes! Steady, the Diehards!" + +"Form up--form up, there, to the left! Hurray, boys! give 'em the +bagginet!" + +"Death to Invader! Reload, men! Oh, for your lives, reload! Make +ready, all! Prepare! Fire!" + + +"Mr. Spettigew! Mr. Spettigew!" + +"Eh?" Uncle Issy turned as William Oke plucked him by the sleeve. +"What's the matter now? Reload, I tell'ee!" + +"I--I can't, Mr. Spettigew. I've a-fired off my ramrod!" + +"Then you'm a lost man." + +"Will it--will it have killed any person, d'ee think?" Oke's teeth +rattled like a box of dice as he peered out over the dark and +agitated crowd of boats. + +"Shouldn' wonder at all." + +"I didn' mean to kill any person, Mr. Spettigew!" + +"'Tis the sort of accident, Oke, that might happen to anyone in war. +At the worst they'll recommend 'ee to mercy. The mistake was your +tellin' me." + +"You won't inform upon me, Mr. Spettigew? Don't say you'll inform +upon me!" + +"No, I won't; not if I can help it. But dang it! first of all you +swaller the fuse, and next you fire off your ramrod." + +"E-everything must have a beginning, Mr. Spettigew." + +Uncle Issy shook his head. "I doubt you'll never make a sojer, +William Oke. You'm too frolicsome wi' the materials. Listen, +there's Pengelly shoutin' for another volley! Right you be, +sergeant! Make ready--prepare--Eh? Hallo!" + + +Why was it that suddenly, at the height of the hubbub, a panic fell +upon the bandsmen of Troy? Why did the "Rout for the Looes" cease +midway in a bar? What was it that hushed on an instant the shouts, +the rallying cries upon the beach, the bugle-calls and challenges, +the furious uproar of musketry? + +Why, within twenty yards of the Cove-head, in the act of charging +upon the serried ranks of Looe's main guard, did Major Hymen face +about and with sword still uplifted stare behind him, and continue to +stare as one petrified? + +What meant that strange light, out yonder by the Cove's mouth, in the +rear of his boats? + +The light grew and spread until it illuminated every pebble on the +beach. The men of Troy, dazzled by the glare of it, blinked in the +faces of the men of Looe. + +THE FRENCH! + +"A trap! A trap!" yelled someone far to the right, and the cry was +echoed on the instant by a sound in the rear of the Diehards--a sound +yet more terrible--the pounding of hoofs upon hard turf. + +Again Captain Pond rushed forward and caught the Major by the elbow. + +"The Dragoons!" he whispered. "Run for your life, man!" + +But already the ranks of the Diehards had begun to waver; and now, as +the oncoming hoofs thundered louder, close upon their rear, they +broke. Trojans and men of Looe turned tail and were swept in one +commingled crowd down the beach. + +"To the water, there! Down to the water, every man of you!" + +A voice loud as a bull's roared out the command from the darkness. +The Major, still waving his sword, was lifted by the crowd's pressure +and swept along like a chip in a tideway. His feet fought for solid +earth. Glancing back as he struggled, he saw, high above his +shoulder, lit up by the flares from seaward, a line of flashing +swords, helmets, cuirasses. + +"To the boats!" yelled the crowd. + +"To the water! Drive 'em to the water!" answered the stentorian +voice, now recognisable as Mr. Smellie's. + +The Dragoons, using the flat of their sabres, drove the fugitives +down to the tide's edge, nor drew rein until their chargers stood +fetlock-deep in water, still pressing the huddled throng around the +boats. + +"Bring a lantern, there!" shouted the Riding Officer. "And call +Hymen! Where is Hymen!" + +"I am here!" + +The Major had picked himself up out of two feet of water, into which +he had been flung on all fours. He was dripping wet, but he still +clutched his naked blade, and advancing into the light of the +lantern's rays, brought it up to salute with a fine cold dignity. + +"I am here," he repeated quietly. + +"Well, then, I'm sorry for you, Hymen; but the game's up," said Mr. +Smellie. + +The Major glanced at him, for a moment only. + +"Will someone inform me who commands this troop?" he asked, looking +first to right, then to left, along the line of the Dragoons. + +"At your service, sir," answered a young officer, pressing his horse +forward alongside Mr. Smellie's. + +The Major reached out a hand for the lantern. Someone passed it to +him obediently; and holding it he scanned the officer up and down +amid the dead silence of the crowd. + +"Your name, sir?" + +"Arbuthnot, sir--Captain Arbuthnot, of the 5th Dragoons." + +"Then allow me to ask, Captain Arbuthnot, by what right have you and +your troopers assaulted my men?" + +"Excuse me," the Captain answered. "I am acting on trustworthy +information. The Riding Officer here, Mr. Smellie--" + +But here Mr. Smellie himself interposed brusquely. + +"You can stow this bluster, Hymen. I've cornered you, and you know +it. The flares in the offing yonder came from two preventive boats. +Back-door and front I have you, as neat as a rat in a drain; so you +may just turn that lantern of yours on the cargo, own up, and sing +small." + +"To resume our conversation, Captain Arbuthnot," the Major went on. +"Upon what information are you and your men taking a part, uninvited, +in this evening's--er--proceedings? You must understand, sir, that I +put this question as a magistrate." + +"To be frank, sir, I am warned that under cover of a feigned attack +between your two corps an illicit cargo was to be run here to-night. +The Riding Officer's information is precise, and he tells me he is +acquainted with the three boats in which the goods have been brought +over." + +"And more by token, there they are!" exclaimed Mr. Smellie, pointing +to three small lugger-rigged craft that lay moored some six or eight +fathoms outside the long-boats, with mainmasts unstepped, sails left +to lie loose about deck with an artful show of carelessness, and +hulls suspiciously deep in the water. He dismounted, caught up a +lantern, and scanned them, chuckling in his glee. "See here, +Captain, the rogues had their gang-planks out and ready. Now, wait +till I've whistled in the preventive crews, and inside of ten minutes +you shall see what game these pretty innocents were playing." + +He blew his whistle, and a whistle answered from the offing, where +the flares continued to blaze. + +"Excuse me again," said the Major, ignoring the interruption and +still addressing himself to Captain Arbuthnot, "but this is a very +serious accusation, sir. If, as you surmise--or rather as your +informant surmises--these boats should prove to be laden with +contraband goods, the men undoubtedly deserve punishment; and I am +the less likely to deprecate it since they have compromised me by +their folly. For me, holding as I do the King's commission of the +peace, to be involved, however innocently, however unconsciously--" + +"Ay," struck in Mr. Smellie again, "it's a devilish awkward business +for you, Hymen. But you won't improve it by turning cat-in-the-pan +at the last moment, and so I warn you. Come along, lads!" he called +to the preventive crews. "We have 'em right and tight this trip. +See the three luggers, there, to port of ye?" + +"Ay, ay, sir!" + +"Tumble aboard, then, and fetch us out a sample of their cargo." + +There was a pause. Save for the jingling of the chargers' bits and +now and again the clink of scabbard on boot, silence--dead silence-- +held the beach. Aboard the boats the preventive men could be heard +rummaging. + +"Found anything?" called out Mr. Smellie. + +"Ay, ay, sir!" + +"What is it?" + +"Casks!" + +"What did I promise you?" Mr. Smellie turned to Captain Arbuthnot in +triumph. "Luxmore!" he called aloud. + +"Ay, ay, sir!" came the Chief Boatman's voice in answer. + +"There's a plank handy. Roll us a sample or two ashore here, and +fetch along chisel and auger." + +"If you think it necessary, sir--" + +"Do as you're told, man! . . . Ah, here we are!"--as a couple of +preventive men splashed ashore, trundling a cask along the plank +between them, and up-ended it close by the water's edge. + +Captain Arbuthnot had dismounted and, advancing with his arm through +his charger's bridle, bent over the cask. + +"Devilish queer-smelling brandy!" he observed, drawing back a pace +and sniffing. + +"It has been standing in the bilge. These fellows never clean out +their boats from one year's end to another," said Mr. Smellie, +positively. Yet he, too, eyed the cask with momentary suspicion. +In shape, in colour, it resembled the tubs in which Guernsey +ordinarily exported its _eau-de-vie_. It was slung, too, ready for +carriage, and with French left-handed rope, and yet. . . . It seemed +unusually large for a Guernsey tub . . . and unusually light in +scantling. . . . + +"Shall I spile en, maister?" asked one of the preventive men, +producing a large auger. + +"No, stave its head in. And fetch a pannikin, somebody. There's +good water at the beach-head; and I dare say your men, Captain, won't +despise a tot of French liquor after their ride." + +The preventive man set his chisel against the inner rim of the cask, +and dealt it a short sharp blow with his hammer, a sort of trial tap, +to guide his aim. "French liquor?" He sniffed. "Furrin fruit, more +like. Phew! Keep back there, and stand by for lavender!" + +Crash! . . . + +"Pf--f!" + +"Ar-r-r-ugh! Oh, merciful Heaven!" Captain Arbuthnot staggered +back, clapping thumb and forefinger to his nose. + +"PILCHARDS!" + +"SALT PILCHARDS!" + +"ROTTEN PILCHARDS!" + +Mr. Smellie opened his mouth, but collapsed in a fit of retching, as +from right and left, and from the darkness all around him, a roar of +Homeric laughter woke the echoes of the Cove. Men rolled about +laughing. Men leaned against one another to laugh. + +Already the preventive men on board the luggers--having been rash +enough to prise open some half a dozen casks--had dropped overboard +and were wading ashore, coughing and spitting as they came. Amid the +uproar Major Hymen kept a perfectly grave face. + +"You see, sir," he explained to Captain Arbuthnot, "Mr. Smellie is +fond of hunting where there is no fox. So some of my youngsters hit +on the idea of providing him with a drag. They have spent a week at +least in painting these casks to look like the real thing. . . . I am +sorry, sir, that you and your gallant fellows should have been misled +by an officious civilian; but if I might suggest your marching on to +Looe, where a good supper awaits us, to take this taste out of our +mouths--and good liquor too, not contraband, to drown resentment--" + +The Captain may surely be pardoned if for the moment even this gentle +speech failed to placate him. He turned in dudgeon amid the grinning +crowd and was in the act of remounting, but missed the stirrup as his +charger reared and backed before the noise of yet another diversion. +No one knows who dipped into the cask and flung the first handful +over unhappy Mr. Smellie. No one knows who led the charge down upon +the boats, or gave the cry to stave in the barrels on board. But in +a trice the preventive men were driven overboard and, as they leapt +into the shallow water, were caught and held and drenched in the +noisome mess; while the Riding Officer, plastered ere he could gain +his saddle, ducked his head and galloped up the beach under a +torrential shower of deliquescent pilchards. + +The Dragoons did not interfere. + +"Shall it be for Looe, Captain?" challenged Major Hymen, waving his +blade and calling on the Gallants to re-form. And as he challenged, +by the happiest of inspirations the band, catching up their +instruments, crashed out with: + + "Oh, the De'il's awa'-- + The De'il's awa'-- + The De'il's awa' wi' th' exciseman!" + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + + +"COME, MY CORINNA, COME!" + +Miss Marty drew aside her window curtain to watch the rising moon. +She could not sleep. Knowing that she would not be able to sleep, +she had not undressed. + +She gazed out upon the street, dark now and deserted. No light +signalled to her from the attic window behind which Dr. Hansombody so +often sat late over his books and butterfly cases. He had gone with +the others. + +She listened. The house was silent save for the muffled snoring of +Scipio in his cupboard-bedroom under the stairs. She raised the +window-sash gently, leaned out upon the soft spring night, and +listened again. + +Far down the street, from the purlieus of the Town Quay, her ear +caught a murmur of voices--of voices and happy subdued laughter. +The maidens of Troy were embarking; and to-morrow would be May +morning. + +Miss Marty sighed. How long was it since she had observed May +morning and its rites? The morrow, too, if the Vicar and the Major +were right in their calculations, would usher in the Millennium. +But again, what was the Millennium to her? Could it bring back her +youth? + +She heard the boats draw near and go by. The houses to the left hid +them from her: but she leaned out, hearkening to the soft plash of +oars, the creak of thole-pins, the girls' voices in hushed chorus +practising the simple native harmonies they would lift aloud as they +returned after sunrise. She recognised the tune, too; the old tune +of "The Padstow Hobby-horse,"-- + + "Unite and unite, and let us all unite, + For summer is a-come in to-day-- + And whither we are going we will all go in white + In the merry merry morning of May. + + "Rise up, Master--, and joy you betide, + For summer is a-come in to-day-- + And blithe is the bride lays her down by your side + In the merry merry morning of May." + +Hushed though the voices were, each word fell distinct on her ear as +the boats drew near and passed up the tideway. + + "Rise up, Mistress--, all in your smock of silk, + For summer is a-come in to-day-- + And all your body under as white as any milk + In the merry merry morning of May." + +The voices faded away up the river. Only the lilt of the song came +back to her now, but memory supplied the words. Had they not been +sung under her window years ago? + + "Rise up, Mistress Marty, all out of your bed, + For summer is a-come in to-day-- + Your chamber shall be spread with the white rose and red + In the merry merry morning of May. + + "O where be the maidens that here now should sing? + For summer is a-come in to-day-- + They be all in the meadows the flowers gathering, + In the merry merry morning of May." + +What magic was there in this artless ditty that kept Miss +Marty lingering awhile with moist eyes ere she closed the +window-sash? + +"Wh'st! Miss Mar-ty!" + +Heavens! Whose voice was that, calling up hoarsely from the shadows? +She peered out, but could see nobody. Suddenly her maiden modesty +took alarm. What possessed her to be standing here exposed, and +exposing the interior of her lighted bed-chamber to view from the +street? She ran back in a flurry and blew out the candles; then, +returning, put up a hand to draw down the window-sash. + +"Wh'st! Miss Mar-ty!" + +"Gracious goodness!" After a moment's hesitation she craned out +timorously. "Cai Tamblyn . . .?" + +"Miss Marty!" + +"What on earth are you doing there at this time of night?" + +"Sentry-go." + +"Nonsense. What do I want of a sentry?" + +"You never can tell." + +"Are you here by the Major's order?" + +"Ch't!" answered Cai Tamblyn. "_Him!_" + +"Then go away, please, and let me beg you to speak more respectfully +of your master." + +"I reckon," said Cai, slowly, "you don't know that, barrin' the +nigger under the stairs, this here town's as empty as my hat. +Well, a man can but die once, and if the French come, let 'em; that's +all I say. Good night, miss." + +"The town empty?" + +"Males, females and otherwise, down to Miss Jex at the post-office." +(Cai Tamblyn nursed an inveterate antipathy for the post-mistress. +He alleged no reason for it, save that she wore moustaches, which was +no reason at all, and a monstrous exaggeration.) "There's Miss Pescod +gone, and Miss Tregentil with her maid." + +"But where? Why?" + +"Up the river. Gallivantin'. That's what I spoke ye for, just now. +Mind you, I don't propose no gallivantin'; but there's safety in +numbers, and if you've a mind for it, I've the boat ready by the +Broad Slip." + +"But what foolishness!" + +"Ay," Mr. Tamblyn assented. "That's what I said to the Doctor when +he first mentioned it. 'What foolishness,' I said, 'at _her_ time o' +life!' But then we never reckoned on the whole town goin' crazed." + +"The Doctor?" queried Miss Marty, with a glance down the dark street. +"He thinks of everything," she murmured. + +There was a pause, during which Mr. Tamblyn somewhat ostentatiously +tested the lock of his musket. + +"You are not going to frighten me, Cai." + +"No, miss." + +"I--I think an expedition up the river would be very pleasant. If, +as you say, Miss Pescod has gone--" + +"Yes, miss." + +"I must bring Scipio." + +"Very well, miss. If the French come, they _might_ think o' looking +under the stairs." + + +Twenty minutes later Miss Marty--escorted by Scipio, who bore a +lantern--tiptoed down the street to the Broad Slip, fearful even of +her own light footstep on the cobbles. + +The Broad Slip--it has since been filled in--was in those days a sort +of dock, inset between the waterside houses and running up so close +to the street that the vessels it berthed were forced to take in +their bowsprits to allow the pack-horse traffic to pass. On its +south side a flight of granite steps led down to the water: and at +the foot of these (the tide being low) Cai Tamblyn waited with his +boat. + +"I declare my heart's in my mouth," Miss Marty panted, as she took +her seat. Cai directed Scipio to sit amidships, pushed off in +silence, and taking the forward thwart, began to pull. + +"Now there's a thing," he said after a few strokes with a jerk of his +head towards the dark longshore houses, "you don't often see nor hear +about outside o' the Bible; a deserted city. Fine pickings for Boney +if he only knew." + +Miss Marty's thoughts flew back at once to a corner cupboard in the +parlour, inlaid with tulips in Dutch marqueterie, and containing the +Major's priceless eggshell china. To be sure, if the French landed, +she--weak woman that she was--could not defend this treasure. +But might not the Major blame her for having abandoned it? + +"I--I trust," she hazarded, "that our brave fellows have succeeded in +their enterprise. It seemed to me that I heard the sound of distant +firing just now." + +"If they hadn't, miss, they'd ha' been back afore now. I had my own +doubts about 'em, for they're a hair-triggered lot, the Troy +Gallants. No fear of their goin' off; but 'tis a matter o' doubt in +what direction." + +"Your master," said Miss Marty, severely, addressing Cai across +Scipio (who for some reason seldom or never spoke in Cai's company)-- +"your master has the heart of a lion. He would die rather than +acknowledge defeat." + +"A heart of a lion, miss, if you'll excuse my saying it, is an +uncomfortable thing in a man's stomach; an' more especially when 'tis +fed up on the wind o' vanity. I've a-read my Bible plumb down to the +forbidden books thereof, and there's a story in it called Bel and the +Dragon, which I mind keeping to the last, thinkin' 'twas the name of +a public-house. 'Tis a terrible warnin' against swollen vittles." + +"You are a dreadful cynic, Cai." + +"Nothin' of the sort, miss," said Cai, stoutly. "I thinks badly o' +most men--that's all." + +His talk was always cross-grained, but its volume betrayed a quite +unwonted geniality to-night. And half a mile farther, where the dark +river bent around Wiseman's Stone, he so far relaxed as to rest on +his oars and challenge the famous echo from the wooded cliffs. +Somewhat to Miss Marty's astonishment it responded. + +"And by night, too! I had no idea!" + +"Night?" repeated Mr. Tamblyn, after rowing on for another fifty +strokes. He paused as if he had that moment heard, and glanced +upward. "'Tis much as ever. The sky's palin' already, and we'll not +reach Lerryn by sunrise. I think, miss, if you'll step ashore, this +here's as good a place as any. Scipio and me'll keep the boat and +turn our backs." + +Miss Marty understood. The boat's nose having been brought alongside +a ridge of rock, she landed in silence, climbed the foreshore, up by +a hazel-choked path to a meadow above, and there, solemnly thrusting +her hands into the lush grass, turned to the east and bathed her face +in the dew. It is a rite which must be performed alone, in silence; +and the morning sun must not surprise it. + +"You've been terrible quick," remarked Cai, as she stepped down to +the foreshore again in the ghostly light. "You can't have stayed to +dabble your feet. Didn't think it wise, I s'pose? And I dare say +you're right." + +From far ahead of them as they started again, the voices of the +singers came borne down the river; and again Miss Marty's memory +supplied the words of the song: + + "The young men of our town, they might if they wo'ld-- + For summer is a-comin' in to-day-- + They might have built a ship and have gilded her with gold + In the merry merry morning of May." + +"The young men . . . the young men . . . they might if they wo'ld." +Ah, Miss Marty, was it only the edge of the morning that heightened +the rose on your cheek by a little--a very little--as the sky paled? +And now the kingfishers were awake, and the woodlands nigh, and the +tide began to gather force as it neared the narrower winding channel. +To enter this they skirted a mud-flat, where the day, breaking over +the tree-tops and through the river mists, shone on scores upon +scores of birds gathered to await it--curlews, sandpipers, gulls in +rows like strings of jewels, here and there a heron standing sentry. +The assembly paid no heed to the passing boat. + +Miss Marty gazed up at the last star fading in the blue. How clear +the morning was! How freshly scented beneath the shadow of the +woods! Her gaze descended upon the incongruous top-hat and +gold-laced livery of Scipio, touched with the morning sunshine. +She glanced around her and motioned to Cai Tamblyn to bring the boat +to shore by a grassy spit whence (as she knew) a cart-track led +alongshore through the young oak coppices to the village. + +"And Scipio," she said, turning as she stepped out on the turf, "will +like a run in the woods." + +She had walked on, maybe a hundred paces, before the absurdity of it +struck her. She had been thinking of Mr. Pope's line: + + "When wild in woods the noble savage ran." + +And at the notion of Scipio, in gilt-laced hat and livery, tearing +wildly through the undergrowth in the joy of liberty, she halted and +laughed aloud. + +She was smiling yet when, at a turning of the leafy lane, she came +upon the prettiest innocent sight. On a cushion of moss beside the +path, two small children--a boy and a girl--lay fast asleep. +The boy's arm was flung around his sister's shoulders, and across his +thighs rested a wand or thin pole topped with a May-garland of wild +hyacinths, red-robin and painted birds' eggs. A tin cup, brought to +collect pence for the garland, glittered in the cart-rut at their +feet. It had rolled down the mossy bank as the girl's fingers +relaxed in sleep. + +They were two little ones of Troy, strayed hither from the +merrymaking; and at first Miss Marty had a mind to wake them, seeing +how near they lay to the river's brink. But noting that a fallen log +safeguarded them from this peril, she fumbled for the pocket beneath +her skirt, dropped a sixpence with as little noise as might be into +the tin cup, and tiptoed upon her way. + +About three hundred yards from the village she met another pair of +children; and, soon after, a score or so in a cluster, who took toll +of her in pence; for almost everyone carried a garland. And then the +trees opened, and she saw before her the village with its cottages, +grey and whitewashed, its gardens and orchards, mirrored in the +brimming tide, all trembling in the morning light and yet exquisitely +still. Far up the river, beyond the village and the bridge, a level +green meadow ran out, narrowing the channel; and here beneath the +apple-trees--for the meadow was half an orchard--had been set out +many lines of white-covered tables, at which the Mayers made +innocently merry. + +Innocently, did I say? Well, I have known up-country folk before +now to be scandalised by some things which we in the Duchy think +innocent enough. So let me admit that the three long-boats conveyed +something more than the youth and beauty of Troy to that morning's +Maying; that when launched from Mr. Runnells' yard they were not +entirely what they seemed: that from their trial spin across the bay +they returned some inches deeper in the water, and yet they did not +leak. Had you perchance been standing by the shore in the half-light +as they came up over the shallows, you might have wondered at the +number of times they took ground, and at the slowness of the tide to +lift and float them. You might have wondered again why, after they +emerged from the deep shadow of Sir Felix Felix-Williams' woods upon +the southern shore, albeit in shallow water, they seemed to feel +their hindrances no longer. + +Have you ever, my reader, caught hold of a lizard and been left with +his tail in your hands? + +Even so easily did these three long-boats shed their false keels, +which half an hour later were but harmless-looking stacks of timber +among Sir Felix's undergrowth. Half an hour later, had your unwary +feet led you to a certain corner of Sir Felix's well-timbered +demesne, you might have scratched your head and wondered what magic +carpet had transported you into the heart of the Cognac District. +And all this was the work of the men of Troy (not being volunteers) +who had come either in the long-boats or in the many boats escorting +these. + +But the women of Troy, being deft with the oar one and all, took the +places of the men left behind in the woods, and, singing yet, brought +both the long-boats and these other boats safely to Lerryn on the +full flood of the tide, and disembarking upon the meadow there, +gathered around the tables under the apple-trees to eat bread and +cream in honour of May-day, looking all the while as if butter would +not melt in their mouths. Between their feasting they laughed a +great deal; but either they laughed demurely, being constrained by +the unwonted presence of Miss Pescod and other ladies of Troy's +acknowledged _elite_, or Miss Marty as yet stood too far off to hear +their voices. + + +Let us return to Scipio, who, on receiving Miss Marty's permission to +wander, had made his way up through the woods in search of the +Devil's Hedge, along which, as he knew, his master would be leading +back the triumphant Gallants. + +Fidelity was ever the first spring of Scipio's conduct. He adored +the Major with a canine devotion, and by an instinct almost canine he +found his way up to the earthwork and chose a position which +commanded the farthest prospect in the direction of Looe. From where +he sat the broad hedge dipped to a narrow valley, climbed the steep +slope opposite, and vanished, to reappear upon a second and farther +ridge two miles away. As yet he could discern no sign of the +returning heroes; but his ear caught the throb of a drum beaten afar +to the eastward. + +Of the Major's two body-servants it might be said that the one spoke +seldom and the other never; and again that Cai, who spoke seldom, +was taciturn, while Scipio, who spoke never, was almost affable. +In truth, the negro's was the habitual silence of one who, loving his +fellows, spends all his unoccupied time in an inward brooding, a +continual haze of day-dreams. + +Scipio's day-dreams were of a piece with his loyalty, a reflection in +some sort of his master's glory. He could never--he with his black +skin--be such a man; but he passionately desired to be honoured, +respected, though but posthumously. And the emblazoned board in the +church, appealing as it did to his negro sense of colour, had +suggested a way. It is not too much to say that a great part of +Scipio's time was lived by him in a future when, released from this +present livery, his spirit should take on a more gorgeous one, as +"Scipio Johnson, Esquire, late of this Parish," in scarlet twiddles +on a buff ground. + +He seated himself on the earthwork, and the better to commune with +this vision, tilted his gold-laced hat forward over his eyes, +shutting out the dazzle of the morning sun. Once or twice he shook +himself, being heavy with broken sleep, and gazed across the ridges, +then drew up his knees, clasped them, and let his heavy, woolly head +drop forward, nodding. + + +Let us not pursue those stages of conviviality through which the Looe +Diehards, having been seen home by the Troy Gallants, arrived at an +obligation to return the compliment. Suffice it to say that Major +Hymen and Captain Pond, within five minutes of bidding one another a +public tearful farewell, found themselves climbing the first hill +towards Lerryn with linked arms. But the Devil's Hedge is a wide one +and luckily could not be mistaken, even in the uncertain light of +dawn. + +And, to pass over the minor incidents of that march, I will maintain +in fairness (though the men of Troy choose to laugh) that the sudden +apparition of a black man seated in the morning light upon the +Devil's Hedge was enough to daunt even the tried valour of the Looe +Diehards. + + "The De'il's awa', the De'il's awa', + The De'il's awa' wi' th' exciseman." + +The eye notoriously magnifies an object seen upon a high ridge +against the skyline; and when Scipio stood erect in all his gigantic +proportions and waved both arms to welcome his beloved master, the +Diehards turned with a yell and fled. Vainly their comrades of Troy +called after them. Back and down the hill they streamed pell-mell, +one on another's heels; down to the marshy bottom known as Trebant +Water, nor paused to catch breath until they had placed a running +brook between them and the Power of Darkness. + +For the second time that night the Gallants rolled about and clung +one to another in throes of Homeric laughter; laughter which, +reverberating, shout on shout, along the ridge and down among the +tree-tops, reached even to the meadow far below, where in the sudden +hush of the lark's singing the merrymakers paused and looked up to +listen. + +But wait awhile! They laugh best who laugh last. + + + +CHAPTER IX. + + +BY LERRYN WATER. + + "O will you accept of the mus-e-lin so blue, + To wear in the morning and to dabble in the dew?" + _Old Song_. + +Miss Marty had duly visited the meadow and eaten and paid for her +breakfast of bread and cream. But she had eaten it in some +constraint, sitting alone. She had never asserted her position as +the Major's kinswoman in the eyes of Miss Pescod and the ladies of +Miss Pescod's clan, who were inclined to regard her as a poor +relation, a mere housekeeper, and to treat her as a person of no +great account. On the other hand, the majority of the merrymakers +deemed her, no doubt, a stiff stuck-up thing; whereas she would in +fact have given much to break through her shyness and accost them. +For these reasons, the meal over, she was glad to pay her sixpence +and escape from the throng back to the woodland paths and solitude. + +The children by this time had grown tired of straying, and were +trooping back to the village. Fewer and fewer met her as she +followed the shore; the two slumberers were gone from the mossy bank; +by and by the procession dried up, so to speak, altogether. +She understood the reason when a drum began to bang overhead behind +the woods and passed along the ridge, still banging. The Gallants +were returning; and apparently flushed with victory, since between +the strokes she could hear their distant shouts of laughter. + +At one moment she fancied they must be descending through the woods: +for a crackling of the undergrowth, some way up the slope, startled +and brought her to a halt. But no; the noise passed along the ridge +towards the village. The crackling sound must have come from some +woodland beast disturbed in his night's lair. + +She retraced her way slowly to the spot where she had disembarked; +but when she reached it, Cai and the boat had vanished. No matter; +Cai was a trustworthy fellow, and doubtless would be back ere long. +Likely enough he had pulled across to the farther shore to bear a +hand in what Troy euphemistically called the "salvage" of the +long-boats' cargoes. Happy in her solitude, rejoicing in her +extended liberty, Miss Marty strolled on, now gazing up into the +green dappled shadows, now pausing on the brink to watch the water as +it swirled by her feet, smooth and deep and flawed in its depths with +arrow-lights of sunshine. + +She came by and by to a point where the cart-track turned inland to +climb the woods and a foot-path branched off from it, skirting a +small recess in the shore. A streamlet of clear water, hurrying down +from the upland by the Devil's Hedge, here leapt the low cliff and +fell on a pebbly beach, driving the pebbles before it and by their +attrition wearing out for itself a natural basin. Encountering a low +ridge of rock on the edge of the tideway, the stones heaped +themselves along it and formed a bar, with one tiny outlet through +which the pool trickled continually, except at high spring tides when +the river overflowed it. + +Now Miss Marty, fetching a compass around this miniature creek, came +in due course to the stream and seated herself on a fallen log, to +consider. For the ground on the farther side appeared green and +plashy, and she disliked wetting her shoes. + +Overhead a finch piped. Below her, hidden by a screen of hazel, +chattered the fall. Why should she wend farther? She must be greedy +of solitude indeed if this sylvan corner did not content her. + +And yet. . . . High on the opposite bank there grew a cluster of +columbine, purple and rosy pink, blown thither and seeded perhaps +from some near garden, though she had heard that the flower grew wild +in these woods. Miss Marty gazed at the flowers, which seem to nod +and beckon; then at the stream; then at the plashy shore; lastly at +her shoes. Her hand went down to her right foot. + +She drew off her shoes. Then she drew off her stockings. + +By this time she was in a nervous flurry. Almost you may say that +she raced across the stream and clutched at a handful of the +columbines. In less than a minute she was back again, gazing +timorously about her. + +No one had seen; nobody, that is to say, except the finch, and he +piped on cavalierly. Miss Marty glanced up at him, then at a +clearing of green turf underneath his bough, a little to her left. +Why not? Why should she omit any of May morning's rites? + +Miss Marty picked up her skirts again, stepped on to the green turf, +and began to dabble her feet in the dew. + + "The morn that May began, + I dabbled in the dew; + And I wished for me a proper young man + In coat-tails of the blue. . . ." + +"_Whoop! Whoo-oop!_" + +The cry came from afar; indeed, from the woods across the river. +Yet as the hare pricks up her ears at the sound of a distant horn and +darts away to the covert, so did Miss Marty pause, and, after +listening for a second or two, hurry back to the log to resume her +shoes and stockings. + +Her shoes she found where she had left them, and one stocking on the +rank grass close beside them. _But where was the other?_ + +She looked to right, to left, and all around her in a panic. +Could she have dropped it into the stream in her hurry? And had the +stream carried it down the fall? + +She drew on one stocking and shoe, and catching up the other shoe in +her hand, crept down to explore. The stream leapt out of sight +through a screen of hazels. Parting these, she peered through them, +to judge the distance between her and the pool and see if any track +led down to it. A something flashed in her eyes, and she drew back. +Then, peering forward again, she let a faint cry escape her. + +On the pebbly bank beside the pool stood a man--Dr. Hansombody--in +regimentals. In one hand he held a razor (this it was that had +flashed so brightly in the sunlight), in the other her lost stocking. +Apparently he had been shaving, kneeling beside the pool and using it +for a mirror; for one half of his face was yet lathered, and his +haversack lay open on the stones by the water's edge beside his shako +and a tin cup under which he had lit a small spirit-lamp; and +doubtless, while he knelt, the stream had swept Miss Marty's stocking +down to him. He was studying it in bewilderment; which changed to +glad surprise as he caught sight of her, aloft between the hazels. + +"Hallo!" he challenged. "A happy month to you!" + +"Oh, please!" Miss Marty covered her face. + +"I'll spread it out to dry on the stones here." + +"Please give it back to me. Yes, please, I beg of you!" + +"I don't see the sense of that," answered the Doctor. "You can't +possibly wear it until it's dry, you know." + +"But I'd _rather_." + +"Are you anchored up there? Very well; then I'll bring it up to you +in a minute or so. But just wait a little; for you wouldn't ask me +to come with half my face unshaven, would you?" + +"I can go back. . . . No, I can't. The bank is too slippery. . . . +But I can look the other way," added Miss Marty, heroically. + +"I really don't see why you should," answered the Doctor, as he +resumed his kneeling posture. "Now, to my mind," he went on in the +intervals of finishing his toilet, "there's no harm in it, and, +speaking as a man, it gives one a pleasant sociable feeling." + +"I--have often wondered how it was done," confessed Miss Marty. +"It looks horribly dangerous." + +"The fact is," said the Doctor, wiping his blade, "I cannot endure to +feel unshaven, even when campaigning." + +He restored the razor to his haversack, blew out the spirit-lamp, +emptied the tin cup on the stones, packed up, resumed his shako, and +stood erect. + +"My stocking, please!" Miss Marty pleaded. + +"It is by no means dry yet," he answered, stooping and examining it. +"Let me help you down, that you may see for yourself." + +"Oh, I _couldn't_!" + +"Meaning your foot and ankle? Believe me you have no cause to be +ashamed of _them_, Miss Marty," the Doctor assured her gallantly, +climbing the slope and extending an arm for her to lean upon. + +"Those people--across the water," she protested, with a slight blush +and a nod in the direction of the shouting, which for some minutes +had been growing louder. + +"Our brave fellows--if, as I imagine, the uproar proceeds from them-- +are pardonably flushed with their victory. They are certainly +incapable, at this distance, of the nice observation with which your +modesty credits them. Good Lord!--now you mention it--what a racket! +I sincerely trust they will not arouse Sir Felix, whose temper-- +_experto crede_--is seldom at its best in the small hours. There, if +you will lean your weight on me and advance your foot--the uncovered +one--to this ledge--Nay, now!" + +"But it hurts," said Miss Marty, wincing, with a catch of her breath. +"I fear I must have run a thorn into it." + +"A thorn?" The Doctor seized the professional opportunity, lifted +her bodily off the slope, and lowered her to the beach. "There, now, +if you will sit absolutely still . . . for one minute. I command +you! Yes, as I suspected--a gorse-prickle!" + +He ran to his haversack, and, returning with a pair of tweezers, took +the hurt foot between both hands. + +"Pray remain still . . . for one moment. There--it is out!" +He held up the prickle triumphantly between the tweezers. "You have +heard, Miss Marty, of the slave Andrew Something-or-other and the +lion? Though it couldn't have been Andrew really, because there are +no lions in Scotland--except, I believe, on their shield. He was +hiding for some reason in a cave, and a lion came along, and--well, +it doesn't seem complimentary even if you turn a lion into a lioness, +but it came into my head and seemed all right to start with." + +"When I was a governess," said Miss Marty, "I used often to set it +for dictation. I had, I remember, the same difficulty you experience +with the name of the hero." + +"Did you?" the Doctor exclaimed, delightedly. "That _is_ a +coincidence, isn't it? I sometimes think that when two minds are, as +one might say, attuned--" + +"They are making a most dreadful noise," said Miss Marty, with a +glance across the river. "Did I hear you say that you were +victorious to-night?" + +"Completely." + +"The Major is a wonderful man." + +"Wonderful! As I was saying, when two minds are, as one might say, +attuned--" + +"He succeeds in everything he touches." + +"It is a rare talent." + +"I sometimes wonder how, with his greatness--for he cannot but be +conscious of it--he endures the restrictions of our narrow sphere. +I mean," Miss Marty went on, as the Doctor lifted his eyebrows in +some surprise, "the petty business of a country town such as ours." + +"Oh," said the Doctor. "Ah, to be sure! . . . I supposed for a +moment that you were referring to the--er--terrestrial globe." + +He sighed. Miss Marty sighed likewise. Across in the covert of the +woods someone had begun to beat a tattoo on the drum. Presently a +cornet joined in, shattering the echoes with wild ululations. + +"Those fellows will be sorry if Sir Felix catches them," observed the +Doctor, anxiously. "I can't think what Hymen's about, to allow it. +The noise comes from right under the home-park, too." + +"You depreciate the Major!" Miss Marty tapped her bare foot +impatiently on the pebbles; but, recollecting herself, drew it back +with a blush. + +"I do not," answered the Doctor, hotly. "I merely say that he is +allowing his men yonder to get out of hand." + +"Perhaps _you_ had better go, and, as the poet puts it, 'ride on the +whirlwind and direct the storm,'" she suggested, with gentle sarcasm. + +The Doctor rose stiffly. "Perhaps, on the whole, I had. +Your stocking"--he lifted and felt it carefully--"will be dry in five +minutes or so. Shall I direct Cai Tamblyn to bring the boat hither +if I pass him on my way?" + +She glanced up with a quivering lip. + +"Isn't--isn't that a Sulphur Yellow?" she asked, pointing to a +butterfly which wavered past them and poised itself for an instant on +a pebble by the brink of the pool. + +"Eh? By George! so it is." The Doctor caught up his shako and raced +off in pursuit. "Steady now! . . . Is he gone? . . . Yes. . . . No, +I have him!" he called, as with a swift wave of his arm he brought +the shako down smartly on the pebbles and, kneeling, held it down +with both hands. + +"Where?" panted Miss Marty. + +"Here . . . if you will stoop while I lift the brim. . . . Carefully, +please. Now!" + +Miss Marty stooped, but could not reach low enough to peer under the +shako. She dropped on her knees. The Doctor was kneeling already. +He showed her how to look, and this brought their cheeks close +together. . . . + +"Oh!" cried Miss Marty, suddenly. + +"I couldn't help it," said the Doctor. + +"And--and you have let him escape!" She buried her face in both +hands, and broke into a fit of weeping. + +"I don't care. . . . Yes, I do!" He caught her hands away from her +face and, their hiding being denied her, she leant her brow against +his shoulder. With that, his arm crept around her waist. + +For a while he let her sob out her emotion. Then, taking her firmly +by both wrists, he looked once into her eyes, led her to a seat upon +the pebble ridge, and sat himself down beside her. + +For a long while they rested there in silence, hand clasped in hand. +The uproar across the river had ceased. They heard only the splash +of the small waterfall and, in its pauses, the call of bird to bird, +mating amid the hazels and the oaks. + + +They drew apart suddenly, warned by the sound of dipping oars, the +creak of thole-pins; and in a few seconds the rower hove into view, +pulling up-stream as if for dear life. It was Cai Tamblyn. Catching +sight of them, with a sharp exclamation he ceased rowing, held water, +and bringing the boat's nose round, headed in for shore. + +"You're wanted, quick!" he called to the Doctor. "They sent me off +in search of you." + +"Hey? What? Has there been an accident?" + +Cai brought his boat alongside, glanced at Miss Marty, and lowered +his voice. + +"'Tis Lady Felix-Williams. These here conquerin' 'eroes of the +Major's have swarmed down through the woods an' ran foul of the +liquor. The Band in partikler's as drunk as Chloe, an' what with +horning and banging under her ladyship's window, they've a-scared her +before her time. She's crying out at this moment, and old Sir Felix +around in his dressing-gown like Satan let loose. Talk about +Millenniums!" + +"Good Lord!" Dr. Hansombody caught up his haversack. +"The Millennium? I'd clean forgot about it!" + +Miss Marty gazed at him with innocent inquiring eyes. + +"But--but isn't this the Millennium?" she asked. + + + +CHAPTER X. + + +GUNNER SOBEY TURNS LOOSE THE MILLENNIUM. + +Let us return for a while to Talland Cove, and to the moment when +Captain Arbuthnot's Dragoons broke ambush and charged down upon the +Gallants. + +Of all our company you will remember that Gunner Sobey passed for the +readiest man. This reputation he now and instantly vindicated. +For happening to be posted on the extreme left in the shadow of the +western cliff, and hearing a sudden cry, "The French! The French!" +he neither fell back with the rest of the crowd nor foolhardily +resisted an enemy whose strength could not yet be measured: but +leaping aside, and by great good luck finding foothold on the rocks +to his left, he wriggled over the low ledge of the cliff and thence-- +now clutching at the grass bents or clusters of the sea-pink, now +digging his fingers into the turf, but always flat, or nearly flat, +on his belly--he wormed his way at incredible speed up the slope, +found covert behind a tall furze-bush, and surveyed for a few seconds +the scene below him. + +The outcries which yet continued, the splashing as of men in +desperate struggle at the water's edge, the hoarse words of command, +the scurrying lanterns, the gleam of a hundred tossing sabres--all +these told their own tale to Gunner Sobey. He arose and ran again; +nor drew breath until he had gained the top of the rough brake and +flung himself over a stone wall into the dry ditch of a vast pasture +field that domed itself far above him against the starry heavens. + +Now let it be understood that what lent wings to Gunner Sobey's heels +was not cowardice, but an overmastering desire to reach home with all +speed. Let no reader mistake for panic what was in truth exceptional +presence of mind. + +The Major, you must know, had drawn up, some months before, and +issued in a General Order, certain _Instructions in Case of +Invasion_--in case, that is to say, the enemy should momentarily +break through our coast defence and effect an actual footing. +The main body of the Gallants would then, converting itself into a +rearguard, cover the town and keep the foe in check, while separate +detachments fell back swiftly, each to execute its assigned duty. +For example: + +Detachments A and B would round up and drive off the cattle. + +Detachment C would assist the escape of the women and children. + +Detachment D would collect and carry off provisions, and destroy what +was left. + +Detachment E would set fire to the corn and the hayricks. + +Detachment F would horse themselves and ride inland to warn the towns +and villages, and make all possible preparations for blowing up the +bridges and otherwise impeding the enemy's advance after the +rearguard's passage. And so on. + +Gunner Sobey, though but a volunteer, possessed that simplicity of +intellect which we have come to prize as the first essential in a +British soldier. It was not his to reason why; not his to ask how +the French had gained a footing in Talland Cove, or how, having +gained it, they were to be dislodged. Once satisfied of their +arrival, he left them, as his soldierly training enjoined, severely +alone. Deplorable as he might deem the occurrence, it had happened; +and _ipso facto_, it consigned him, in accordance with general +orders, to Detachment D, with the duties and responsibilities of that +detachment. On these then--and at first on these, and these only--he +bent his practical, resolute mind. It will be seen if he stopped +short with them. + +Picking himself up from the dry ditch, intent only on heading for +home, he was aware of a dark object on the brink above him; which at +first he took for a bramble bush, and next, seeing it move, for a +man. + +It is no discredit to Gunner Sobey that, taken suddenly in the +darkness, and at so hopeless a disadvantage, he felt his knees shake +under him for a moment. + +"Parley-voo?" he ventured. + +The proverb says that a Polperro jackass is surprised at nothing, and +this one, which had been browsing on the edge of the ditch, merely +gazed. + +"I--I ax your pardon," went on Gunner Sobey, still slightly unhinged. +"The fact is, I mistook you for another person." + +The jackass drew back a little. It seemed to Gunner Sobey to be +breathing hard, but otherwise it betrayed no emotion. + +"Soh, then! Soh, my beauty!" said Gunner Sobey, and having clambered +the ditch, reached out a caressing hand. + +The donkey retreated, backing, step by step: and as Gunner Sobey +stared a white blaze on the animal's face grew more and more distinct +to him. + +"Eh? Why, surely--soh, then!--you're Jowter Puckey's naggur? And if +so--and I'll be sworn to you, seein' you close--what's become of th' +old mare I sold him last Marti'mas?" + +The beast still retreated. But Gunner Sobey's wits were now working +rapidly. If Jowter Puckey pastured his jackass here, why here then +(it was reasonable to surmise) he also pastured the old mare, +Pleasant: and if Pleasant browsed anywhere within earshot, why the +chances were she would remember and respond to her former master's +call. + +I repeat that Gunner Sobey was a ready man and a brave. Without +pausing to reflect that the French might hear him, he put two fingers +in his mouth and whistled into the night. + +For a while there came no reply. He had his two fingers in his mouth +to repeat the call when, happening to glance at the jackass, he +perceived the beast's ears go up and its head slew round towards the +ridge. Doubtless it had caught the distant echo of hoofs; for half a +minute later a low whinny sounded from the summit of the dark slope, +and a grey form came lumbering down at a trot, halted, and thrust +forward its muzzle to be caressed. + +"Pleasant! Oh, my dear Pleasant!" stammered Gunner Sobey, reaching +out a hand and fondling first her nose, then her ears. He could have +thrown both arms around her ewe neck and hugged her. "How did I come +to sell 'ee?" + +To be sure, if he had not, this good fortune had never befallen him. + +Neither Gunner Sobey nor the mare--nor, for that matter, the +jackass--had ever read the eighteenth book of Homer's Iliad; and this +must be their excuse for letting pass the encounter with less +eloquence than I, its narrator, might have made a fortune by +reporting. For once Gunner Sobey's readiness failed him, under +emotion too deep for words. He laid a hand on the mare's withers and +heaved himself astride, choosing a seat well back towards the +haunches, and so avoiding the more pronounced angles in her +framework. Then leaning forward and patting her neck he called to +her. + +"Home, my beauty! I'll stick on, my dear, if you'll but do the rest. +Cl'k!" + +She gathered up her infirm limbs and headed for home at a canter. + +For a while the jackass trotted beside them; but coming to the +gate and dismounting to open it, Gunner Sobey turned him back. +Possibly the mare had a notion she was being stolen, for no sooner +had her rider remounted than she struck off into a lane on the right +hand, avoiding the road to Polperro where her present owner dwelt; +and so, fetching a circuit by a second lane--this time to the left-- +clattered downhill past the sleeping hamlet of Crumplehorn, and +breasted the steep coombe and the road that winds up beside it past +the two Kellows to Mabel Burrow. Here on the upland she pulled +herself together, and reaching out into a gallant stride, started on +the long descent towards Troy at a pace that sent the night air +whizzing by Gunner Sobey's ears. Past Carneggan she thundered, past +Tredudwell; and thence, swinging off into the road for the Little +Ferry, still down hill by Lanteglos Vicarage, by Ring of Bells, to +the ford of Watergate in the valley bottom, where now a bridge +stands; but in those days the foot-passengers crossed by a plank and +a hand-rail. Splashing through the ford and choosing unguided the +road which bore away to the right from the silent smithy, and steeply +uphill to Whiddycross Common, she took it gamely though with fast +failing breath. She had been foaled in Troy parish, and marvellously +she was proving, after thirty years (her age was no less), the mettle +of her ancient pasture. While he owned her, Gunner Sobey--who in +extra-military hours traded as a carrier and haulier between Troy and +the market-towns to the westward--had worked her late and fed her +lean; but the most of us behold our receding youth through a mist of +romance, and it may be that old worn-out Pleasant conceived herself +to be cantering back to fields where the grass grew perennially sweet +and old age was unknown. At any rate, she earned her place this +night among the great steeds of romance--Xanthus, Bucephalus, +Harpagus, Black Auster, Sleipnir and Ilderim, Bayardo and +Brigliadoro, the Cid's Babieca, Dick Turpin's Black Bess; not to +mention the two chargers, Copenhagen and Marengo, whom Waterloo was +yet to make famous. As she mounted the last rise by Whiddycross +Green her ribs were heaving sorely, her breath came in short quick +coughs, her head lagged almost between her bony knees; but none the +less she held on down the steep hill, all strewn with loose stones, +to the ferry slip; and there, dropping her haunches, slid, checked +herself almost at the water's edge, and stood quivering. + +Billy Bates, the ferryman at Little Ferry, had heard the clatter of +hoofs, and tumbled out to unchain his boat; a trifling matter for +him, since he habitually slept in his clothes. + +"Hallo!" said he, holding his lantern high and taking stock of the +gunner's regimentals. "I allowed you'd be a messenger from Sir +Felix. They tell me her leddyship is expectin'." + +"I pity her then," gasped Gunner Sobey, and waved an arm. "Man, the +French be landed, an' the country's ablaze!" + +Billy Bates set down his lantern on the slip and ran two trembling +hands through his scanty locks. + +"If that's so," he answered, "you don't get no boat of mine. There's +Hosken's blue boat; you'll find her moored off by a shoreline. +Take _she_ if you will; he's a single man." + +"Darn your old carcass!" swore Gunner Sobey. "I wish now I'd waited +to cross over before tellin' 'ee!" + +"I dare say you do. Well, good night, soce. I'm off to tell the old +woman." + +Man is a selfish animal. As Gunner Sobey hauled Hosken's blue boat +to shore, poor Pleasant came down the slip-way and rubbed her muzzle +against his sleeve, dumbly beseeching him to fetch the horse-boat +that she too might cross. He struck her sharply across the nose, +and, jumping aboard, thrust off from the shore. + + +In telling Miss Marty that the town was deserted, Cai Tamblyn had +forgotten the Vicar. + +That good man, it is perhaps superfluous to say, had not sought his +bed. He was a widower, and had no one to dissuade him from keeping +vigil until daybreak. At ten o'clock, therefore, having seen to the +trimming of his lamp and dismissed the servants to rest, he lit his +study fire, set the kettle upon it, and having mixed himself a bowl +of brandy-punch (in the concoction of which all Troy acknowledged him +to be an expert), drew his arm-chair close to the genial blaze, and +sat alternately sipping his brew and conning for the thousandth time +the annotated pamphlet in which he had demonstrated exhaustively, +redundantly, irrefutably, beyond possibility of disbelief or doubt, +that with the morrow the world's great age must be renewed and the +Millennium dawn upon earth. + +For an hour and a half, or maybe three-quarters, he sat reading and +reassuring himself that the armour of his proof was indeed +proof-armour and exposed no chink to assault; and then-- + +The Vicar was a man of clean conscience and regular habits. +He closed his eyes to review the argument. By and by his chin +dropped forward on his chest. He slept. He dreamt. His dreams were +formless, uneasy; such as one might expect who deserts his bed and +his course of habit to sleep upright in an arm-chair. A vague +trouble haunted them; or, rather, a presentiment of trouble. It grew +and grew; and almost as it became intolerable, a bell seemed to clang +in his ears, and he started up, awake, gripping his chair, his brow +clammy with a sudden sweat. He glanced around him. The fire was +cold, his lamp burned low, his book had fallen to the floor. Was it +this that had aroused him? No; surely a bell had clanged in his +ears. His brain kept the echo of it yet. + +He listened. The clang was not repeated; but gradually his ears +became aware of a low murmuring, irregular yet continuous; a sound, +it seemed, of voices, yet not of human voices; a moaning, and yet not +quite a moaning, but rather what the French would call a +_mugissement_. Yes, it resembled rather the confused lowing of +cattle than any other sound known to him. But that was +inconceivable. . . . + +He stepped to the window-curtains through which the pale dawn +filtered; pulled them aside and started back with a cry of something +more than dismay. The Vicarage faced upon the churchyard; and the +churchyard was filled--packed--with cattle! Oxen and cows, steers, +heifers, and young calves; at least thirty score were gathered there, +a few hardier phlegmatic beasts cropping the herbage on the graves; +but the mass huddled together, rubbing flanks, swaying this way and +that in the pressure of panic as corn is swayed by flukes of summer +wind. + +The Vicar was no coward. Recovering himself, he ran to the passage, +caught his hat down from the peg, and flung wide the front door. + +A little beyond his gate a lime-tree walk led down through the +churchyard to the town. But gazing over the chines of the herd +beyond his garden railing, he saw that through this avenue he could +not hope to force a passage; it was crowded so densely that dozen +upon dozen of the poor brutes stood with horns interlocked, unable to +lift or lower their heads. + +To the right a line of cottages bounded the churchyard and overlooked +it; and between them and the churchyard wall there ran a narrow +cobbled lane known as Pease Alley (_i.e., pis aller_, the Vicar was +wont to explain humorously). Through this he might hope to reach +the Lower Town and discover some interpretation of the portent. +He opened the gate boldly. + +It was obvious, whatever might be the reason, that terror possessed +the cattle. At the creaking of the gate the nearest brutes +retreated, pressing back against their fellows, lowering their heads; +and yet not viciously, but as though to meet an unknown danger. + +"Soh!" called the Vicar. "Soh, then! . . . upon my word," he went on +whimsically, answering the appeal in their frightened, liquid eyes, +"it's no use your asking me. You can't possibly be worse puzzled +than I am!" + +He thrust a passage between them and hurried down Pease Alley. +Twice he paused, each time beneath the windows of a sleeping cottage, +and hailed its occupants by name. No one answered. Only, on the +other side of the alley, a few of the beasts ceased their lowing for +a while, and, thrusting their faces over the wall, gazed at him with +patient wonder. + +At the lower end of the alley, where it makes an abrupt bend around +the hinder premises of the "Ship" Inn before giving egress upon the +street, the Vicar lifted his head and sniffed the morning air. +Surely his nose detected a trace of smoke in it--not the reek of +chimneys, but a smoke at once more fragrant and more pungent. . . . + +Yes, smoke was drifting high among the elms above the church. +The rooks, too, up there, were cawing loudly and wheeling in circles. + +He dropped his gaze to his feet, and once more started back in alarm. +A gutter crossed the alley here, and along it rushed and foamed a +dark copper-coloured flood which, in an instant, his eye had traced +up to the back doorstep of the "Ship," over which it poured in a +cascade. + +Beer? Yes; patently, to sight and smell alike, it was beer. With a +cry, the Vicar ran towards the doorway, wading ankle-deep in beer as +he crossed the threshold and broke in to the kitchen. The whole +house swam with beer, but not with beer only; for when, no inmate +answering his call, he followed the torrent up through yet another +doorway and found himself in the inn cellar, in the dim light of its +iron-barred window he halted to gaze before one, two, three, a dozen +casks of ale, port, sherry, brandy, all pouring their contents in a +general flood upon the brick-paved floor. + +Here, as he afterwards confessed, his presence of mind failed him; +and small blame to him, I say! Without a thought of turning off the +taps, he waded back to the doorway and leaned there awhile to recover +his wits with his breath. + +While he leaned, gasping, with a hand against the door-jamb, the +clock in the church tower above him chimed and struck the hour of +five. He gazed up at it stupidly, saw the smoke drifting through the +elm-tops beyond, heard the rooks cawing over them, and then suddenly +bethought himself of the bell which had clanged amid his dreams. + +Yes, it had been the clang of a real bell, and from his own belfry. +But how could anyone have gained entrance into the church, of which +he alone kept the keys? How? Why, by the little door at the east +end of the south aisle, which stood ajar. Across the alley he could +see it, and that it stood ajar; and more by token a heifer had +planted her forefoot on the step and was nosing it wider. Someone +had forced the lock. Someone was at this moment within the church! + +The Vicar collected his wits and ran for it; thrust his way once more +through the crowd of cattle, and through the doorway into the aisle, +shouting a challenge. A groan from the belfry answered him, and +there, in the dim light, he almost stumbled over a man seated on the +cold flags of the pavement and feebly rubbing the lower part of his +spine. + +It is notoriously dangerous to ring a church bell without knowing the +trick of it. Gunner Sobey, having broken into the belfry and laid +hands on the first bell-rope (which happened to be that of the +tenor), had pulled it vigorously, let go too late, and dropped a good +ten feet plumb in a sitting posture. + +"Good Lord!" The Vicar peered at him, stooping. "Is that Sobey?" + +"It _was_," groaned Sobey. "I'll never be the same man again." + +"But what has happened?" + +"Happened? Why, I tumbled off the bell-rope. You might ha' guessed +_that_." + +"Yes, yes; but why?" + +"Because I didn' know how it worked." Gunner Sobey turned his face +away wearily and continued to rub his hurt. "I didn't know till now, +either, that a man could be stunned at this end," he added. + +"Man, I see you're suffering, but answer me for goodness' sake! +What's the meaning of all these cattle outside, and the taps running, +and the smoke up yonder on the hill? And why--?" + +"I done my best," murmured Gunner Sobey drowsily. "Single-handed I +done it, but I done my best." + +"Are you telling me that all this has been _your_ doing?" + +"A man can't very well be ten detachments at once, can he?" demanded +the Gunner, sitting erect of a sudden and speaking with an air of +great lucidity. "At least not in the Artillery. The liquor, now-- +I've run it out of every public-house in the town; that was +Detachment D's work. And the hayricks; properly speakin', _they_ +belonged to Detachment E, and I hadn' time to fire more than Farmer +Coad's on my way down wi' the cattle. _And_ the alarm bell, you may +argue, wasn' any business of mine; an' I wish with all my heart I'd +never touched the dam thing! But with the French at your doors, so +to speak--" + +"The French?" + +"Didn' I tell you? Then I must have overlooked it. Iss, iss, the +French be landed at Talland Cove, and murderin' as they come! +And the Troy lads be cut down like a swathe o' grass; and I, only I, +escaped to carry the news. And you call this a Millenyum, I +suppose?" he wound up with sudden inconsequent bitterness. + +But the Vicar apparently did not hear. "The French? The French?" he +kept repeating. "Oh, Heaven, what's to be done?" + +"If you was something more than a pulpit Christian," suggested Gunner +Sobey, "you'd hoist me pickaback an' carry me over to hospital; for I +can't walk with any degree of comfort, an' that's a fact. And next +you'd turn to an' drive off the cattle inland, an' give warning as +you go. 'Tis a question if I live out this night, an' 'tis another +question if I want to; but, dead or alive, it sha'n't be said of me +that I hadn' presence of mind." + + + +CHAPTER XI. + + +THE MAJOR LEAVES US. + +Two minutes later the Vicar, staggering up to the hospital door with +Gunner Sobey on his back, came to a terrified halt as his ears caught +the _tramp, tramp_ of a body of men approaching from the direction of +Passage Slip, which is the landing-place of the Little Ferry. He had +scarce time to lower his burden upon the doorstep before the head of +the company swung into view around the street corner. With a gasp he +recognised them. + +They were the Troy Gallants, and Major Hymen marched beside them. +But they came with no banners waving, without tuck of drum--a sadly +depleted corps, and by their countenances a sadly dejected one. + +For the moment, however, in the revulsion of his feelings, the Vicar +failed to observe this. He ran forward with both arms extended to +greet the Major. + +"My friend!" he cried tremulously. "You are alive!" + +"Certainly," the Major answered. "Why not?" He was dishevelled, +unshaven, travel-stained, haggard, and at the same time flushed of +face. Also he appeared a trifle sulky. + +"What has happened?" + +"Well"--the Major turned on him almost viciously--"_you_ may call it +the Millennium!" + +"But the French--?" + +"Eh? Excuse me--I don't take your meaning. _What_ French?" + +"I was given to understand--we have been taking certain precautions," +stammered the Vicar, and gazed around, seeking Gunner Sobey (but +Gunner Sobey had dived into the hospital and was putting himself to +bed). "You don't tell me the alarm was false!" + +"My good Vicar, I haven't a notion at what you're driving; and excuse +me again if in this hour of disgrace I find myself in no humour to +halt here and bandy explanations." + +"Disgrace?" + +"Disgrace," repeated the Major, gazing sternly back on his abashed +ranks. His breast swelled; he seemed on the point to say more; but, +indignation mastering him, mutely with a wave of the hand he bade the +Gallants resume their march. Mutely, contritely, with bowed heads, +they obeyed and followed him down the street, leaving the Vicar at +gaze. + + +What had happened? Why, this.-- + +After the fiasco in Talland Cove Captain Arbuthnot had formed up his +Dragoons and given the word to ride back to Bodmin Barracks, their +temporary quarters, whence Mr. Smellie had summoned them. + +He was in the devil of a rage. From the Barracks to Talland Cove is +a good fourteen miles as the crow flies, and you may allow another +two miles for the windings of the road (which, by the way, was a +pestilently bad one). To ride sixteen miles by night, chafing all +the while under the orders of a civilian, and to return another +sixteen, smarting, from a fool's errand, is (one must admit) +excusably trying to the military temper. Smellie, to be sure, and +Smellie alone, had been discomfited. Smellie's discomfiture had been +so signally personal as to divert all ridicule from the Dragoons. +Smellie, moreover, had made himself confoundedly obnoxious. + +Smellie had given himself airs during the ride from Bodmin; and +Captain Arbuthnot had with an ill grace submitted to them, because +the fellow knew the country. They were quit of him now; but how to +find the way home Captain Arbuthnot did not very well know. He rode +forward boldly, however, keeping his eyes upon the stars, and +steering, so far as the circuitous lanes would allow him, north by +west. + +Bearing away too far to the right, as men are apt to do in the +darkness, he missed the cross-ways by Ashen-cross, whence his true +line ran straight through Pelynt; and after an hour or so of +blind-man's-buff in a maze of cornfields, the gates of which seemed +to hide in the unlikeliest corners, emerged upon a fairly good high +road, which at first deceived him by running west-by-north and then +appeared to change its mind and, receding through west, took a +determined southerly curve back towards the coast. In short, Captain +Arbuthnot had entirely lost his bearings. + +Deciding once more to trust the stars, he left the high road, struck +due north across country again and by and by found himself entangled +in a valley bottom beside the upper waters of the same stream which +Gunner Sobey had forded two hours before and some miles below. +The ground hereabouts was marshy, and above the swamp an almost +impenetrable furze-brake clothed both sides of the valley. +The Dragoons fought their way through, however, and were rewarded, a +little before dawn, by reaching a good turf slope and, at the head of +it, a lane which led them to the small village of Lanreath. + +The inhabitants of Lanreath, aroused from their beds by the tramp of +hoofs and with difficulty persuaded that their visitors were not the +French, at length directed Captain Arbuthnot to the village inn, the +"Punchbowl," where he wisely determined to bait and rest his horses, +which by this time were nearly foundered. Being heavy brutes, they +had fared ill in the morass, and the most of them were plastered with +mud to their girths. + +The troopers, having refreshed themselves with beer, flung themselves +down to rest, some on the settles of the inn-kitchen, others on the +benches about the door, and others again in the churchyard across the +road, where they snored until high day under the curious gaze of the +villagers. + +So they slept for two hours and more; and then, being summoned by +trumpet, mounted and took the road again, the most of them yet heavy +with slumber and not a few yawning in their saddles and only kept +from nodding off by the discomfort of their tall leathern stocks. + +In this condition they had proceeded for maybe two miles, when from a +by-lane on their left a horseman dashed out upon the road ahead, +reined up, and, wheeling his horse in face of them, stood high in his +stirrups and waved an arm towards the lane by which he had come. + +It took Captain Arbuthnot some seconds to recognise this apparition +for Mr. Smellie. But it was indeed that unfortunate man. + +He had lost both hat and wig; his coat he had discarded, no doubt to +be rid of its noisome odour: and altogether he cut the strangest +figure as he gesticulated there in the early sunshine. But the man +was in earnest--so much in earnest that he either failed to note, or +noting, disregarded, the wrathful frown with which Captain Arbuthnot, +having halted his troop, rode forward at a walk to meet him. + +"Back, Captain, back!" shouted Mr. Smellie, pointing down the lane. + +"I beg your pardon, sir"--the Captain reined up and addressed him +with cold, incisive politeness--"but may I suggest that you have +played the fool with us sufficiently for one night, and that my men's +tempers are short?" + +"Havers!" exclaimed the indomitable Smellie, rising yet higher in his +stirrups and lifting a hand for silence. "I ask ye to listen to the +racket down yonder. The drum, now!" (Sure enough Captain Arbuthnot, +pricking his ears, heard the tunding of a drum far away in the woods +to the southward.) "Man, they've diddled us! While they put that +trick on us at Talland Cove, their haill womankind was rafting the +true cargo up the river. I've ridden down, I tell you, and the clue +of their game I hold in my two hands here from start to finish. +The brandy's yonder in Sir Felix's woods, and the men are lying +around it fou-drunk as the Israelites among the pots. Man, if ye +would turn to-night's laugh, turn your troop and follow, and ye shall +cull them like gowans!" + +"It is throwing the haft after the hatchet," hesitated Captain +Arbuthnot, impressed against his will by the earnestness of the +appeal. "You have misled us once to-night, I must remind you; and I +give you fair warning that my troopers will not bear fooling twice." + +With all his faults the Riding Officer did not lack courage. +Disdaining the threat, he waved his hand to the Dragoons to follow +and put his horse at a canter down the leafy lane. + +It is recorded in the High History of the Grail, of Sir Lohot, son of +King Arthur, that he had a marvellous weakness; which was, that no +sooner had he slain a man than he fell across his body. So it +happened this night to the valiant men of Troy. + +The Dragoons, emerging from the woods of Pentethy into close view of +the house and its terrace and slope that falls from the terrace to +the river, found themselves intruders upon the queerest of domestic +dramas. + +On the terrace among the leaden gods danced a little man, wigless, in +an orange-coloured dressing-gown and a fury of choler. At the head +of the green slope immediately under the balustrade Major Hymen, +surrounded by a moderately sober staff, faced the storm in an +attitude at once dignified and patient. + +"An idea has occurred to me," he put in at length with stately +deliberation as Sir Felix paused panting for fresh words of +opprobrium. "It is, sir, that overlooking the few minutes by which +our salvoes were--er--antedated, you allow us to acclaim your +latest-born as Honorary-Colonel of our corps." + +"But," almost shrieked Sir Felix, "damn your eyes, it's _twins_--and +both _girls_!" + +The Major winced. A rosy flush of indignation mantled his cheeks, +and only his habitual respect for the landed gentry (whom he was +accustomed to call the backbone of England) checked him on the verge +of a severe retort. As it was, he answered with fine suavity. + +"There is no true patriot, Sir Felix, but desires an accelerated +increase in our population just now, whether male or female. I trust +your good lady's zeal may be rewarded by a speedy recovery." + +Sir Felix fairly capered. "Accelerated! Acc--" he began, and, +choking over the word, turned and caught sight of the Dragoons as +they emerged from the woods, the sunlight flashing on their +cuirasses. + +He fell back against the pedestal of a leaden effigy of Julius Caesar +and plucked his dressing-gown about him with fumbling bewildered +hands. Was the whole British Army pouring into his peaceful park? +What had he done to bring down on his head the sportive mockery of +heaven, and at such a moment? + +But in the act of collapsing he looked across the balustrade and saw +the Major's face suddenly lose its colour. Then in an instant he +understood and pulled himself together. + +"Hey? A hunt breakfast, is it?" he inquired sardonically, and turned +to welcome the approaching troop. "Good morning, gentlemen! You +have come to draw my covers? Then let me suggest your beginning with +the plantation yonder to the right, where I can promise you good +sport." + +It was unneighbourly; an action remembered against Sir Felix to the +close of his life, as it deserved to be. He himself admitted later +that he had given way to momentary choler, and made what amends he +could by largess to the victims and their families. But it was long +before he recovered his place in our esteem. Indeed, he never wholly +recovered it: since of many dire consequences there was one, +unforeseen at the time, which proved to be irreparable. Over the +immediate consequences let me drop the curtain. _Male, male feriati +Troes!_ . . . As a man at daybreak takes a bag and, going into the +woods, gathers mushrooms, so the Dragoons gathered the men of Troy. + . . . Mercifully the most of them were unconscious. + +Even less heart have I to dwell on the return of the merrymakers: + + "But now, ye shepherd lasses, who shall lead + Your wandering troops, or sing your virelays?" + +Sure no forlorner procession ever passed down Troy river than this, +awhile so jocund, mute now, irresponsive to the morning's smile, the +cuckoo's blithe challenge from the cliff. To the Major, seated in +the stern sheets of the leading boat, no one dared to speak. +They supposed his pecuniary loss to be heavier than it actually was-- +since the Dragoons had after all surprised but a portion of the +cargo, and the leafy woods of Pentethy yet concealed many scores of +tubs of _eau-de-vie_; but they knew that he brooded over no pecuniary +loss. He had been outraged, betrayed as a neighbour, as a military +commander, and again as a father of his people; wounded in the house +of his friends; scourged with ridicule in the very seat of his +dignity. Maidens, inconsolable for lovers snatched from them and now +bound for Bodmin Gaol, hushed their sorrow and wiped their tears by +stealth, abashed before those tragic eyes which, fixed on the river +reach ahead, travelled beyond all petty private woe to meet the end +of all things with a tearless stare. + +So they returned, drew to the quays, and disembarked, unwitting yet +of worse discoveries awaiting them. + +In the hospital Gunner Sobey, having dived into bed, with great +presence of mind fell asleep. The Vicar had fled the town by the +North, or Passage, Gate, and was by this time devouring a country +walk in long strides, heedless whither they led him, vainly +endeavouring to compose his thoughts and readjust his prophecies in +the light of the morning's events--a process which from time to time +compelled him to halt and hold his head between both hands. + +The Major had slammed his front door, locked himself in his room, and +would give audience to no one. + +It was in vain that the inhabitants besieged his porch, demanding to +know if the town were bewitched. Who had gutted their shops? +Why the causeways swam with strong liquor? How the churchyard came +to be full of cattle? What hand had fired Farmer Elford's ricks? +In short, what in the world had happened, and what was to be done? +They came contritely, conscious of their undeserving; but to each and +all Scipio, from the head of the steps, returned the same answer. +His master was indisposed. + +Troy, ordinarily a busy town, did no business at all that day. +Tradesmen and workmen in small groups at every street-corner +discussed a mystery--or rather a series of mysteries--with which, as +they well knew, one man alone was competent to grapple. To his good +offices they had forfeited all right. Nevertheless, a crowd hung +about all day in front of the Mayor's house, nor dispersed until long +after nightfall. At eight o'clock next morning they reassembled, +word having flown through the town that Dr. Hansombody and Lawyer +Chinn had been summoned soon after daybreak to a private conference. +At eight-thirty the Vicar arrived and entered the house, Scipio +admitting him with ceremony and at once shutting the door behind him +with an elaborate show of caution. + +But at a quarter to ten precisely the door opened again and the great +man himself stood on the threshold. He wore civilian dress, and +carried a three-caped travelling cloak on his left arm. His right +hand grasped a valise. The sight of the crowd for a moment seemed to +discompose him. He drew back a pace and then, advancing, cleared his +throat. + +"My friends," said he, "I am bound on a journey. Your consciences +will tell you if I deserved yesterday's indignity, and how far you +might have obviated it. But I have communed with myself and decided +to overlook all personal offence. It is enough that certain of our +fellow-townsmen are in durance, and I go to release them. In short, +I travel to-day to Plymouth to seek the best legal advice for their +defence. In my absence I commit the good behaviour of Troy to your +keeping, one and all." + +You, who have read how, when Nelson left Portsmouth for death and +victory, the throng pressed after him down the beach in tears, and +ran into the water for a last grasp of his hand, conceive with what +emotion we lined up and escorted our hero to the ferry; through what +tears we watched him from the Passage Slip as he waved back from the +boat tiding him over to the farther shore, where at length Boutigo's +Van--"The Eclipse," Troy to Torpoint, No Smoking Inside--received and +bore him from our straining eyes. + + + +CHAPTER XII. + + +A COLD DOUCHE ON A HOT FIT. + +There lived at Plymouth, in a neat house at the back of the Hoe, and +not far from the Citadel, a certain Mr. Basket, a retired haberdasher +of Cheapside, upon whom the Major could count for a hospitable +welcome. The two had been friends--cronies almost--in their London +days; dining together daily at the same cook-shop, and as regularly +sharing after dinner a bottle of port to the health of King George +and Mr. Pitt. Nor, since their almost simultaneous retreat from the +capital, had they allowed distance to diminish their mutual regard. +They frequently corresponded, and their letters included many a +playful challenge to test one another's West Country hospitality. + +Now while the Major had (to put it mildly) but exchanged one sphere +of activity for another, Mr. Basket, a married man, embraced the +repose of a contemplative life; cultivating a small garden and taking +his wife twice a week to the theatre, of which he was a devotee. +These punctual jaunts, very sensibly practised as a purge against +dullness, together with the stir and hubbub of a garrison town in +which his walled garden stood isolated, as it were, all day long, +amid marchings, countermarchings, bugle-calls, and the rumble of +wagons filled with material of war, gave him a sense of being in the +swim--of close participation in the world's affairs; failing which a +great many folk seem to miss half the enjoyment of doing nothing in +particular. + +Mr. Basket welcomed the Major cordially, with a dozen rallying +comments on his healthy rural complexion, and carried him off to +admire the garden while Mrs. Basket enlarged her preparations for +dinner at five o'clock. + +The garden was indeed calculated to excite admiration, less for its +flowers--for Mr. Basket confessed ruefully that very few flowers +would grow with him--than for a hundred ingenuities by which this +defect was concealed. + +"And the beauty of it is," announced Mr. Basket, with a wave of his +hand towards a black-and-white edging compound of marrow bones and +the inverted bases of wine bottles, disposed alternately, "it +harbours no slugs. It saves labour, too; you would be surprised at +the sum it used to cost me weekly in labour alone. But," he went +on, "I pin my faith to oyster shells. They are, if in a nautical +town one may be permitted to speak breezily, my sheet anchor." +He indicated a grotto at the end of the walk. "Maria and me did the +whole of that." + +"Mrs. Basket is fond of gardening?" hazarded the Major. + +"She's extraordinary partial to oysters," Mr. Basket corrected him. +"We made it a principle from the first to use nothing but what we +consumed in the house. That don't apply to the statuary, of course, +which I have purchased at one time and another from an Italian dealer +who frequents the Hoe. The material is less durable than one might +wish; but I could not afford marble. The originals of these objects, +so the dealer informs me, are sold for very considerable sums of +money; in addition to which," went on Mr. Basket, lucidly, "he +carries them in a tray on his head, which, in the case of marble, +would be out of the question; and, as it is, how he contrives to keep +'em balanced passes my understanding. But he is an intelligent +fellow, and becomes very communicative as soon as he finds out you +have leanings for Art. Here's a group, for instance--Cupid and +Fisky--in the nude." + +"But, excuse me--" The Major stepped back and rubbed his chin +dubiously, for some careful hand had adorned the lovers with kilts of +pink wool in crochet work, and Psyche, in addition, wore a neat pink +turnover. + +"The artist _designed_ 'em in the nude, but Maria worked the +petticoats, having very decided views, for which I don't blame her. +It keeps off the birds, too: not that the birds could do the same +damage here as in an ordinary garden." + +"I can well believe that." + +"But we were talking of oyster shells. They are, as I say, our +stand-by. To be sure, you can't procure 'em all the year round, like +marrow bones for instance; but, as I tell Maria, from a gardening +point of view that's almost a convenience. You can work at your beds +whenever there's an 'r' in the month, and then, during the summer, +take a spell, look about, and enjoy the results. Besides, it leaves +you free to plan out new improvements. Now, here"--Mr. Basket caught +his friend's arm, and leading him past a bust of Socrates ("an +Athenian," he explained in passing; "considered one of the wisest men +of antiquity, though not good-looking in _our_ sense of the word "), +paused on the brink of a small basin, cunningly sunk in centre of a +round, pebble-paved area guarded by statuary--"I consider this my +masterpiece." + +"A fish-pond!" + +"Yes, and containing real fish; goldfish, you perceive. I keep it +supplied from a rain-water cistern at the top of the house, and feed +'em on bread-crumbs. Never tell _me_," said Mr. Basket, "that +animals don't reason!" + +"You certainly have made yourself a charming retreat," the Major +admitted, gazing about him. + +Mr. Basket beamed. "You remember the lines I was wont to declaim to +you, my friend, over our bottle in Cheapside?-- + + "'May I govern my passion with an absolute sway, + And grow wiser and better as my strength wears away, + Without gout or stone, by a gentle decay. . . .'" + +"For the last, it must be as Heaven pleases; but to some extent, you +see, I have come to enjoy my modest aspirations. Only until to-day +one thing was lacking. As poor Bannister used to quote it in the +play--you remember him?-- + + "'I've often wished that I had clear + For life six hundred pounds a year + A something-or-other house to lodge a friend. . . .' + +"Ay, my dear Hymen," Mr. Basket wrung the Major's hand with genuine +feeling, "you have been a long time putting off this visit; but, now +we have you, I promise we don't let you go in a hurry. We will toast +old days; we will go visit the play together as of old--yes, this +very night. For, as luck will have it, the stock company at the +Theatre Royal makes way to-night--for whom think you? No less a man +than Orlando B. Sturge, and in his great part of Tom Taffrail in +_Love Between Decks; or, The Triumph of Constancy_; a week's special +engagement with his own London company in honour of the Duke of +Clarence, who is paying us a visit just now at Admiralty House." + +"Sturge?" echoed the Major, doubtfully. + +"Good heavens, my dear fellow, don't tell me you haven't heard of +him! Really, now, really, you bury yourself--believe me, you do. +Why, for nautical parts, the stage hasn't his equal; and a voice, +they tell me, like Incledon's in his prime! Mrs. Basket and I have +reserved seats, and, now I come to think of it, we had best step down +to the theatre before dining, book yours, and arrange it so that we +sit in a row. The house will be crowded, if 'tis only for a view of +his Royal Highness, who will certainly attend if--hem!--equal to the +effort." + +"I had not heard of his being indisposed." + +"Nor is he, at this hour. But now and then . . . after his fourth +bottle . . . However, as I say, the house will certainly be crowded." + +"You'll excuse me, my friend, if I beg that you and your good wife +will trot off to the theatre to-night without troubling about me. +The--er--fact is, I have come up to Plymouth primarily to consult a +lawyer on a somewhat delicate business, and shall be glad of a few +hours' solitude this evening to prepare my case. Do you happen, by +the way, to know of a good lawyer? I wish for the very best advice +procurable." + +"Eh--eh? Delicate business, you say? My dear fellow, no +entanglement, I hope? You always _were_, you know. . . . But I've +said it a thousand times--you ought to get married; and Maria agrees +with me . . . a man of your presence, carrying his years as you do. +Eh? You're blushing, man. Then maybe 'tis the real thing, and +you've come up to talk over settlements?" + +"Tut-tut!" interposed the Major, who indeed had coloured up, and +apparently not with annoyance. "There's no woman at all in the case +I'm referring to." But here he checked himself. "Nay, I forgot; I'm +wrong there," he admitted; "and if she hadn't had twins, I don't +believe 'twould have happened." + +"Curious circumstance to forget," murmured Mr. Basket; but, +perceiving that the Major was indisposed to be communicative, pressed +him no further. + +At dinner Mrs. Basket, whose welcome had at first been qualified by +the prospect of having to give to the unexpected guest her seat at +_Love Between Decks_ (on which, good soul, she had set her heart), +showed herself in her most amiable light. She was full of apologies +for deserting him. "If he had only given them warning. Not but that +she was delighted; and even now, if the Major would make use of her +ticket . . . And to leave him alone in the house--for the 'maid' +lived two streets away, and slept at home--it sounded so +inhospitable, did it not? But she hoped the Major would find his +room comfortable; there was a table for writing; and supper would be +laid in the parlour, if he should feel tired after his journey and +wish to retire to bed before their return. Would he be good enough +to forbear standing upon ceremony, and remember the case-bottles in +the cellaret on the right-hand of the sideboard? Also, by the way, +he must take temporary possession of the duplicate latchkey; and +then," added Mrs. Basket, "we shall feel you are quite one of _us_." + +The Major, on his part, could only trust that his unexpected visit +would not be allowed to mar for one moment Mrs. Basket's enjoyment of +_Love Between Decks_. On that condition only could he feel that he +had not unwarrantably intruded; on those terms only that he was being +treated in sincerity as an old friend. "I am an old campaigner, +madam. Permit me, using an old friend's liberty, to congratulate you +on the flavour of this boiled mutton." + +In short, the Major showed himself the most complaisant of guests. +At dessert, observing that Mr. Basket's eye began to wander towards +the clock on the mantelpiece, he leapt up, protesting that he should +never forgive himself if, through him, his friends missed a single +line of _Love Between Decks_. + +Mr. Basket rose to his feet, with a half-regretful glance at the +undepleted decanter. + +"To-morrow night," said he, "we will treat old friendship more +piously. Believe me, Hymen, if it weren't for the seats being +reserved--" + +"My dear fellow," the Major assured him, with a challenging smile for +Mrs. Basket, "if you don't come back and tell me you've forgotten for +three hours my very existence, I shall pack my valise and tramp off +to an inn." + +Having dismissed the worthy couple to the theatre--but a couple of +streets distant--the Major retired with glass and decanter to his +room, drank his quantum, smoked two pipes of tobacco very leisurably, +and then, with a long sigh, drew up his chair to the table (which +Mrs. Basket had set out with writing materials) and penned, with many +pauses for consideration, the following letter; which, when the +reader has perused it, will sufficiently explain why our hero had +blushed a while ago under Mr. Basket's interrogatory. + + "My dear Martha,--'Sweet,' says our premier poet, 'are the uses + of adversity.' The indignity (I will call it no less) to which + my fellow-townsmen by their folly, and Sir Felix by his perfidy, + have recently subjected me, is not without its compensations. + On the one hand it has disillusioned me; on the other it has + removed the scales from my eyes. It has, indeed, inspired me + with a disgust of public life; it has taught me to think more + meanly of mankind as a whole. But while weaning my ambitions-- + perhaps too abruptly--from a wider sphere, it has directed me + upon a happiness which has--dare I say it?--awaited me all the + while beside the hearth. + + "Let me avow, dear cousin, that when first this happy inspiration + seized me, I had much ado--you know my promptitude of old--to + refrain from seeking you at once and pressing my suit with that + ardour which the warmth of my purpose dictated. On second + thoughts, however, I decided to spare your emotions that sudden + assault, and to make my demand in writing--in military phrase, + to summon the garrison in form. + + "Your tender consideration of my comfort over a period of years + induces me to believe that a stronger claim on that + consideration for the future may not be a matter of indifference + to you. In short, I have the honour to offer you my hand, with + every assurance of a lifelong fidelity and esteem. The station + I ask you to adorn will be a private one. I am here to consult + a lawyer how best I may release from the consequences of their + folly the unfortunate men who betrayed me. This done, I lay + down my chain of office and resign my commission. I will not + deny that there are wounds; I look to domestic felicity to + provide a balm for them. Hansombody, no doubt, will succeed me; + and on the whole I am satisfied that he will passably fill an + office which, between ourselves, he has for some time expected. + I hope to return the day after to-morrow, and to receive the + blushing answer on which I have set my heart.--Believe me, dear + Coz, your affectionate + + "Sol. Hymen." + +Cynics tell us that one-half of the proposals of marriage made by men +are the direct result of pique. How closely this proposal of the +Major's coincided with the recoil of his public humiliation I do not +pretend to determine. Certain it is that he had no sooner written +and sealed his letter than the shadow of a doubt began to creep over +his hot fit. + +He started up, lit his long pipe, and fell to pacing the room with +agitated strides. Was he doing wisely? Matrimony, he had sometimes +told his friends, is like a dip in the sea; the wise man takes it at +a plunge, head first. Yes, yes; but had he given it quite sufficient +reflection? Could he promise himself he would never regret? He was +not doubting that Miss Marty would make him an excellent wife. +Admirable creature, she bore every test he could apply. She was +gentle, companionable, intelligent in converse, yet never forward in +giving an opinion; too studious, rather, to efface herself; in +household management economical without being penurious; a notable +cook and needlewoman; in person by no means uncomely, and in mind as +well as person so scrupulously neat that her unobtrusive presence, +her noiseless circumspect flittings from room to room, exhaled an +atmosphere of daintiness in which it was good to dwell. No, he had +no anxiety about Miss Marty. But could he be sure of himself? +Had he really and truly and for ever put the ambitions of public life +behind him? Might they not some day re-awaken as this present wound +healed and ceased to smart? + +If he sent this letter, he had burnt his boats. He halted before the +table and stood for a while considering; stood there so long that his +pipe went out unheeded. Ought he not to re-write his proposal and +word it so as to leave himself a loophole? As he conned the name on +the address, by some trick of memory he found himself repeating Miss +Marty's own protest against the Millennium: "Why couldn't we be let +alone, to go on comfortably?" + +Confound the Millennium! Was it at the bottom of this too? +The plaguy thing had a knack of intruding itself, just now, into all +he undertook, and always mischievously. It was unsettling--Miss +Marty's word again--infernally unsettling. He had begun to lose +confidence in himself. + +The room was hot. He stepped to the window, flung it open, and drank +in the cool air of the summer night. Below him lay the garden, +wherein Mr. Basket's statuary showed here and there a glimmer in the +velvet darkness. The Major turned back to the room and began to +undress slowly; removing his wig, his coat, his waistcoat, and laying +them on a chair. Next he turned out his breeches pockets and tossed +his purse, with a handful of loose silver, upon the bed. With it +there jingled the spare latchkey with which Mrs. Basket had entrusted +him. + +He picked it up. . . . Yes, why should he not take a turn in the +garden to compose his mind? In his present agitation he was not +likely to woo slumber with success. . . . He slipped on his coat +again and descended the stairs, latchkey in hand. A lamp burned in +the hall, and by the light of it he read the hour on the dial of a +grandfather's clock that stood sentry beside the dining-room door-- +five-and-twenty minutes past ten. The Baskets would not be returning +for another hour at least. He unlatched the front door, stepped out, +and closed it softly behind him. + +Now mark how simply--how, with a short laugh--by the crook of a +little finger, as it were--the envious gods topple down the tallest +human pride. + +The Major descended the front steps, halted for a moment to peer at a +statuette of Hercules resting on his club, and passed on down the +central path of the garden with a smile for his worthy friend's +foible. A dozen paces, and his toe encountered the rim of Mr. +Basket's fish-pond. . . . + +The Major went into Mr. Basket's fish-pond souse!--on all fours, +precipitately, with hands wildly clawing the water amid the +astonished goldfish. + +The echo of the splash had hardly lost itself in the dark +garden-alleys before he scrambled up, coughing and sputtering, and +struggling to shore rubbed the water from his eyes. Now the basin +had not been cleaned out for some months, and beneath the water, +which did not exceed a foot and a half in depth, there lay a good two +inches of slime and weed, some portion of which his knuckles were +effectively transferring to his face. He had lost a shoe. +Worse than this, as he stood up, shook the water out of his breeches +and turned to escape back to the house, it dawned on him that he had +lost the latchkey! + +He had been carrying it in his hand at the moment of the catastrophe. + . . . He sat down on the pebbled path beside the basin, flung +himself upon his stomach and, leaning over the brink as far as he +dared, began to grope in the mud. After some minutes he recovered +his shoe, but by and by was forced to abandon the search for the key +as hopeless. He had no lantern. . . . + +He cast an appealing glance up at the light in his bedroom window. +His gaze travelled down to the fanlight over the front door. And +with that the dreadful truth broke on him. Without the latchkey he +could not possibly re-enter the house. + +He unlaced and drew on his sodden shoe, and sat for a while +considering. Should he wait here in this dreadful plight until his +hosts returned? Or might he not run down to the theatre (which lay +but two short streets away), explain the accident to a doorkeeper, +and get a message conveyed to Mr. Basket? Yes, this was clearly the +wiser course. The streets--thank Heaven!--were dark. + +He crept to the front gate and peered forth. The roadway was +deserted. Taking his courage in both hands, he stepped out upon the +pavement and walked briskly downhill to the theatre. The distance +was a matter of five or six hundred yards only, and he met nobody. +Coming in sight of the brightly-lit portico, he made a dash for it +and up the steps, where he blundered full tilt into the arms of a +tall doorkeeper at the gallery entrance. + +"Hallo!" exclaimed the man, falling back. "Get out of this!" + +"One moment, my friend--" + +"Damme!" The doorkeeper, blocking the entrance, surveyed him and +whistled. "Hi, Charley!" he called; "come and take a look at this!" + +A scrag-necked youth thrust his face forward from the aperture of the +ticket-office. + +"Well, I'm jiggered," was his comment. "Drunk, eh? Throw him out!" + +"If you'll listen for a moment," pleaded the Major, with dignity, and +began to search in the pockets of his sodden breeches. "I wish a +message taken . . . but dear me, now I remember, I left my money +upstairs!" + +"_On_ the gilded dressing-table beside the diamond tiyara," suggested +the doorkeeper. "Or maybe you cast it down, careless, on the moonlit +shore afore taking your dip!" + +"My good man, I assure you that I am the victim of an accident. +It so happens that, by a singular chain of mischance, I have not at +this moment a penny about me. But if you will go to the reserved row +of the pit and fetch out my friend Mr. Basket--" + +At this point the Major felt a hand clapped on his shoulder, and +turning, was aware of two sailors, belted and wearing cutlasses, who, +having lurched up the steps arm-in-arm, stood to gaze, surveying him +with a frank interest. + +"What's wrong, eh?" demanded the one who had saluted him, and turned +to his comrade, a sallow-faced man with a Newgate fringe of a beard. +"Good Lord, Bill, what is it like?" + +"It _looks_ like a wreck ashore," answered the sallow-faced sailor +after a slow inspection. + +"Talk about bein' fond of the theayter! He must have _swum_ for it," +said the other, and stared at the Major round-eyed. "You'll excuse +me; Ben Jope, my name is, bos'n of the _Vesuvius_ bomb; and this +here's my friend Bill Adams, bos'n's mate. _As_ I was sayin', you'll +excuse me, but you must be fond of it--a man of your age--by the +little you make of appearances." + +"I was just explaining," stammered the Major, "that although, most +unfortunately, I have left my purse at home--" + +But here he paused as Mr. Jope looked at Mr. Adams, and Mr. Adams +answered with a slow and thoughtful wink. + +"Go where you will," said Mr. Jope cheerfully, stepping to the +ticket-office; "go where you will, and sail the high seas over, 'tis +wonderful how you run across that excuse. Three tickets for the +gallery, please; and you, Bill, fall alongside!" He linked an arm in +the Major's, who feebly resisted. + +"Lord love ye!" said Mr. Jope, "the lie's an old one; but a man that +played up to it better in appearances I never see'd nor smelt!" + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + + +A VERY HOT PRESS. + +The performance of _Love Between Decks_ had reached its famous fourth +act, in which Tom Taffrail, to protect his sweetheart (who has +followed him to sea in man's attire), strikes the infamous First +Lieutenant and is marched off between two marines for punishment. +This scene, as everyone knows, is laid on the upper deck of his +Majesty's ship _Poseidon_ (of seventy-four guns), and the management, +as a condition of engaging Mr. Orlando B. Sturge (who was exacting in +details), had mounted it, at great expense, with a couple of lifelike +guns, R. and L., and for background the overhang of the quarter-deck, +with rails and a mizzen-mast of real timber against a painted cloth +representing the rise of the poop. + +At the moment when our Major entered the gallery, the heated +atmosphere of which well nigh robbed him of breath, Tom Taffrail had +taken up his position on the prompt side, close down by the +footlights, and thrown himself into attitude to deliver the speech of +manly defiance which provokes the Wicked Lieutenant to descend into +the waist of the ship and receive the well-merited weight of the +hero's fist. The hero, with one foot planted on a coil of real rope +and one arm supporting the half-inanimate form of his Susan, in +deference to stage convention faced the audience, while with his +other arm uplifted he invoked vengeance upon the oppressor, who +scowled down from the quarterdeck rail. + +"Hear me, kyind Heaven!" declaimed Tom Taffrail, "for Heaven at least +is my witness, that beneath the tar-stained shirt of a British sailor +there may beat the heart of a _Man_!"-- + +As a matter of fact, Mr. Sturge was clothed in a clean blue and white +striped shirt, with socks to match, white duck trousers no less +immaculate, with a huge glittering brass buckle on the front of his +belt, two buckles of smaller size but similar pattern on his polished +dancing shoes, and wore his hair in a natty pigtail tied with +cherry-coloured ribbon. + +--"Hear and judge betwixt me and yonder tyrant! Let the storm off +Pernambuco declare who first sprang to the foretop and thence aloft +to strike t'gallant yards while the good ship _Poseidon_ careened +before its hurricane rage! Ay, and when the main topm'st went +smack-smooth by the board, who was it slid like lightning to the deck +and, with hands yet glowing from the halliards, plucked forth axe and +hewed the wreckage clear? But a truce to these reminders! 'Twas my +duty, and, as a seaman, I did it!" + +Here, having laid his tender burden so that her back rested against +the coil of real rope, Mr. Sturge executed the opening steps of a +hornpipe, and advancing to the footlights, stood swaying with crossed +arms while the orchestra performed the prelude to his most celebrated +song. + +At this point Mr. Jope, who for some seconds had been breathing hard +at the back of the Major's neck, clutched his comrade by the arm. + +"You 'eard that, Bill?" he asked in a hoarse whisper. + +"Ay," answered Bill Adams. "He slipped down from the t'gallant yards +by the halliards." + +"Would ye mind pinchin' me?" + +"Where?" + +"Anywhere; in the fleshy part of the ham for choice; not too +vigorous, but just to make sure. He come down by the halliards. +_Which_ halliards?" + +"Signal halliards, belike. Damme, why not? Aboard a vessel with the +decks laid ath'artships--" + +"An' the maintopm'st went smack-smooth--you _'eard_ him? What sort +o' spar--" + +"Dunno"--Bill paused and audibly shifted his quid--"unless 'twas a +parsnip. The mizz'n-m'st seems to have stood it, though her stays +_do_ lead to a brass-headed nail in the scuppers." + +"In a gale off Pernambuco . . . 'twas his duty, and as a seaman he +did it," quoted Mr. Jope in a low voice thrilled with awe. "Bill, we +must 'ave him. If he did but 'alf of it, we must 'ave him. In them +togs, aboard the _Vesuvius_ now . . . Lord love me, he's dancin'!" + +"Ay, and he's going to sing." + +"_Sing!_" + +"Mark my word, he's going to sing," repeated Bill Adams with +confidence; and, sure enough, Mr. Sturge stepped forward and with a +reproachful glance at the empty Royal box uplifted his voice: + + "When honest Jack across the foam + Puts forth to meet the Gallic foe, + His tributary tear for home + He wipes away with a Yow-heave-ho! + Man the braces, + Take your places, + Fill the tot and push the can; + He's a lubber + That would blubber + When Britannia needs a _Man_!" + +"S'help us, Bill, what are they doing _now_?" gasped Ben Jope, as two +groups of seamen, one at either wing, took up the chorus; tailing on +to a cable and heaving while they sang. + +"Fishin' the anchor," said Bill pensively; "_that's_ what they're +doin'. She carries her catheads amidships. The ship's all right, +once you get the hang of her." + +"Bill, we _must_ 'ave him!" + +"Hush it, you swab! He's beginning again." + + "But when among the heaving clouds, + Aloft, alone, with folded arms, + He hangs _her_ portrait in the shrouds + And feeds on Susan's glowing charms, + To th' horizon + Soft his sighs on + Angel wings the zephyrs fan, + While his feelings, + Deep revealings, + Prove that Jack remains a _Man_!" + +"'Ear that, Bill?" + +"O' course I 'ears it. Why not? I _knew_ there was something funny +wi' them shrouds. They carries the family portraits on 'em--it's all +right, I tell you." + +"But 'feeds,' he said." + +"Meanin' the picter; though maybe they sling the meat-safe there as +well. They _ought_ to." + +"They _couldn't_!" + +"Why not? Well, then, p'raps they strikes it now and then _in_ a +gale--off Pernambuco--along wi' the t'gallant yards. Stow yer talk, +Ben Jope, and let a man listen." + +The audience encored Mr. Sturge's song vociferously; and twice he had +to repeat it before they would suffer him to turn again and defy the +still scowling Lieutenant. + +"Ay, sir; the British seaman, before whose collective valour the +crowned tyrants of Yurope shrink with diminished heads, dares to +proclaim himself a _Man_, and in despite of any petty tyrant of the +quarter-deck. Humble his lot, his station, may be. Callous he +himself may be to the thund'ring of the elements or the guns of his +country's foemen; but never will he be found irresponsive to female +distress in any shape or form. Leftenant Vandeloor, you have +upraised your hand against A Woman; you have struck her a Blow. +In your teeth I defy you!" (Frantic applause.) + +"My word, Bill, the Duke ought to been here to 'ear that!" + +"But why isn't he here?" asked the Major. + +"Well," answered Ben Jope slowly, with a glance along the crowded +gallery and a wink at Bill Adams (but the Major saw neither the +glance nor the wink), "to-night, d'ye see, 'twouldn't ha' been +altogether the thing. He's not like you and me, the Duke isn't. +He has to study appearances." + +"I should have thought that, if his Royal Highness studied +popularity, he could scarcely have found a better occasion." + +"Look here," put in Mr. Jope sharply, "if the Duke chooses to be +drunk to-night, you may lay to it he knows his business. And look +here again; I took you for a victim o' misfortun', but if so be as +you're startin' to teach the R'yal family tact, w'y, I changes my +opinion." + +"If I could only find my friend Basket, or get a message taken to +him," ingeminated the Major, whose teeth were chattering despite the +tropical atmosphere of the gallery. + +"Eh? What's that you're sayin'?" the seaman demanded in a sudden +sharp tone of suspicion. "If there's a friend o' your'n in the +gallery, you keep by me and point him out when the time comes. +I ain't a-makin' no promise, mind; no more than to say it may be the +better for him; but contrariwise I don't allow no messages, and you +may belay to that!" + +"But my friend is not in the gallery. He has a reserved seat +somewhere." + +"Then you may take it he don't _require_ no message, bein' toler'bly +safe. As for yourself, you stick to me. Understand? Whatever +happens, you stick to me." + +The Major did not understand in the least; but their conversation at +this moment was interrupted by a roar of applause from all quarters +of the house as Tom Taffrail, with a realistic blow from the +shoulder, laid his persecutor prostrate on the deck. + +"Brayvo!" grunted Bill Adams. "The lad's nimble enough with his +fives, I will say, for all his sea-lawyerin'." + +"We must 'ave him, Bill; if I take him myself we must 'ave him!" +cried Ben Jope, dancing with admiration. '"Tis no more than a mercy, +neither, after the trouble he's been and laid up for hisself." + +Into what precise degree of mental confusion Mr. Jope had worked +himself the Major could never afterwards determine; though he soon +had every opportunity to think it out at leisure. + +For the moment, as a boatswain's whistle shrilled close behind his +ear, he was merely bewildered. He did not even know that the mouth +sounding it was Mr. Jope's. It _ought_ to have sounded on board +H.M.S. _Poseidon_. + +As the crowd to right and left of him surged to its feet, he saw at +intervals along the gallery, sailor after sailor leap up with drawn +cutlass. He saw some forcing their way to the exits; and as the +packed throng, swaying backwards, bore him to the giddy edge of the +gallery rails, he saw the whole audience rise from their seats with +white upturned faces. + +"The Press!" called someone. Half a dozen, then twenty, then a +hundred voices took up the cry: + +"The Press! The Press!" + +He turned. What had become of Mr. Jope? + +What, indeed? Cutlass between teeth, Mr. Jope had heaved himself +over the gallery rail, caught a pillar between his dangling feet, and +slid down it to the Upper Circle; from the Upper Circle to the Dress +Circle; from the Dress Circle to the Pit. A dozen seamen hurrahed +and followed him. To the audience screaming, scattering before them, +they paid no heed at all. Their eyes were on their leader, and in +silence, breathing hard, each man's teeth clenched upon his cutlass, +they hounded after him and across the Pit at his heels. + +It may be that this vivid reproduction of his alleged exploit off +Pernambuco for the moment held Mr. Orlando B. Sturge paralysed. +At any rate, he stood by the footlights staring, with a face on which +resentment faded into amaze, amaze into stupefaction. + +It is improbable that he dreamed of any personal danger until the +moment when Mr. Jope, leaping the orchestra and crashing, on his way, +through an abandoned violoncello, landed across the footlights and +clapped him on the shoulder. + +"Never you mind, lad!" cried Mr. Jope cheerfully, taking the cutlass +from between his teeth and waving it. "You'll get better treatment +along o' we." + +"What mean you? Unhand me--Off, I say, minion!" + +"It'll blow over, lad; it'll blow over. You take my advice and come +quiet--Oh, but we _want_ you!--an' if you hear another word about +this evening's work I'll forfeit my mess." + +"Hands off, ruffian! Help, I say, there--Help!" + +"Shame! Shame!" cried a dozen voices. But nine-tenths of the +audience were already pressing around the doors to escape. + +At a nod from Mr. Jope, two seamen ran and cut the cords supporting +the drop-scene. + +"Heads, there! Heads!" + +The great roller fell upon the stage with a resounding bang. + + +With the thud of it, a hand descended and smote upon the Major's +shoulder. + +"Come along o' me. _You'll_ give no trouble, anyway." + +"Eh?" said the Major. "My good man, I assure you that I have not the +slightest disposition to interfere. These scenes are regrettable, of +course. I have heard of them, but never actually assisted at one +before; still, I quite see the necessity of the realm demands it, and +the realm's necessity is--or should be--the supreme law with all of +us." + +"And you can _swim_. You'd be surprised, now, how few of 'em could +take a stroke to save their lives. Leastways," Mr. Adams confessed, +"that's _my_ experience." + +"I beg your pardon." + +"Ben's impulsive. I over'eard him tellin' you to stick fast to him; +but, all things considered, that's pretty difficult, ain't it? +Never you mind; _I'll_ see you aboard the tender." + +"Aboard the tender?" + +The Major stepped back a pace as the fellow's absurd mistake dawned +on him. "Why, you impudent scoundrel, I'm a Justice of the Peace!" + +But here a rush of the driven crowd lifted and bore him against the +gallery rail. A hand close by shattered the nearest lamp into +darkness, and the flat of a cutlass (not Bill Adams's) descending +upon our hero's head, put an end for the while to speech and +consciousness. + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + + +THE "VESUVIUS" BOMB. + +He awoke with a racking headache in pitchy darkness; and with the +twilight of returning consciousness there grew in him an awful fear +that he had been coffined and buried alive. For he lay at full +length in a bed which yet was unlike any bed of his acquaintance, +being so narrow that he could neither turn his body nor put out an +arm to lift himself into a sitting posture; and again, when he tried +to move his legs, to his horror they were compressed as if between +bandages. In his ear there sounded, not six inches away, a low +lugubrious moaning. It could not come from a bed-fellow, for he had +no bed-fellow. . . . No, it could be no earthly sound. + +With a strangled cry he flung a hand upwards, fending off the +horrible darkness. It struck against a board, and at the same +instant his cry was echoed by a sharp scream close beside him. + +"Angels and ministers of Gerrace defend us!" The scream sank to a +hoarse whisper and was accompanied by a clank of chains. "Not dead? +You--you are not dead?" + +The Major lay back in a cold sweat. "I--I thought I was," he +quavered at length. But at this point his mysterious bed seemed to +sway for a moment beneath him, and he caught his breath. "Where am +I?" he gasped. + +"At sea," answered the voice in a hollow tone. + +"At sea!" In a sudden spasmodic attempt to sit upright, the Major +almost rolled himself out of his hammock. + +"Ay, poor comrade--if you are indeed he whom I saw lifted aboard +unconscious from the tender--'tis the dismal truth." + + "Beneath the Orlop's darksome shade + Unknown to Sol's bright ray, + Where no kind chink's assistant aid + Admits the cheerful day. + +"I am not, in the practical sense, seaman enough to determine if this +noisome den be the precise part of the ship alluded to by the poet +under the name of Orlop. But the circumstances correspond; and my +stomach informs me that the vessel is in motion." + +"The vessel?" echoed the Major, incredulous yet. "_What_ vessel?" + +"As if to omit no detail of horror, she is called, I believe, the +_Vesuvius_ bomb. Phoebus, what a name!" + +It drummed for some seconds in the Major's ear like an echo. + +"Yes, yes . . . the theatre," he murmured. + +"The theatre? You were in the theatre? Then you saw _me_?" + +"I beg your pardon." + +"_Me_--Orlando B. Sturge. Yes, sir, if it be any consolation to you, +know that I, Orlando B. Sturge, of the Theatre Royal, Covent Garden, +am your temporary partner in adversity, your co-mate and brother in +exile, with the added indignity of handcuffs; and all by an error +which would be absurd if it weren't so infernally serious." + +"There has been some horrible mistake." + +"A mistake, sir, for which these caitiffs shall pay dearly," +Mr. Sturge promised in his deepest tragedy voice. + +"A Justice of the Peace!" + +"Eh?" + +"With a Major's commission!" + +"Pardon, I think you must be confusing me with some other person. +Orlando B. Sturge is my name, sir, and familiar--as I may say without +vanity--wherever the Thespian art is honoured. But yesterday the +darling of the public; and now, in the words of our national bard:" + + "'--Now lies he here, + And none so poor to do him reverence.' + +"You are familiar with the works of Shakespeare, sir? Your speech, if +you will allow me to say so, suggests a respectable education." + +"I have dipped into them," answered the Major inattentively, absorbed +in his own woes. + +"My consolation is, this will get into the newspapers; and then let +these ignorant ruffians beware!" + +"The newspapers! God forbid!" The Major shuddered. + +"Ha?" Mr. Sturge drew back in dark surprise. "'Tis the language of +delirium. He raves. What ho, without there!" he called aloud. + +"What the devil's up?" responded a voice from the darkness behind the +Major's head. It belonged to a marine standing sentry outside a +spare sail which shut off the _Vesuvius's_ sick bay from the rest of +the lower deck. + +"A surgeon, quick! Here's a man awake and delirious." + +"All right. You needn't kick up such a row, need you?" growled the +marine. + +"Like Nero, I am an angler in a lake of darkness. You have +handcuffed me, moreover, so that even if this accursed sty contains a +bell-rope--which is improbable--I am debarred from using it. +A light, there, and a surgeon, I say!" + +The marine let fall the sail flap and withdrew, grumbling. +But apparently Mr. Sturge's mode of giving an order, being unlike +anything in his experience, had impressed him; for by and by a faint +ray illumined the dirty whitewashed beams over the Major's hammock, +and four persons squeezed themselves into the sick bay--the marine +holding a lantern and guiding the ship's surgeon, who was followed in +turn by our friends Mr. Jope and Mr. Bill Adams. + +The _Vesuvius_ bomb, measuring but a little more than ninety feet +over all, with a beam of some twenty-seven feet, and carrying seventy +odd men and boys, with six long six-pounder guns and a couple of +heavy mortars, could spare but scanty room for hospital +accommodation. At a pinch, a dozen hammocks could be slung in the +den which the marine's lantern revealed; but how a dozen sick men +could recover there, and how the surgeon could move between the +hammocks to perform his ministrations, were mysteries happily left +unsolved. As it was, the two invalids and their visitors crowded the +place to suffocation. + +"Delirious, you say?" hemmed the surgeon, a bald little man with a +twinkling eye, an unshaven chin and a very greasy shirt frill. +"Well, well, give me your pulse, my friend. Better a blister on the +neck than a round shot at your feet, hey? I near upon gave you up +when they brought you aboard--upon my word I did." The Major +groaned. "You seemed a humane man, sir," he answered feebly. +"Spare me your blisters and get me put ashore, for pity's sake!" + +The doctor shook his head. "My good fellow, we weighed an hour ago +with a fresh northerly breeze. I haven't been on deck, but by the +cant of her we must be clear of the Sound already and hauling up for +Portsmouth." + +"On your peril you detain me, sir! I'll have your fool of a captain +broken for this--cashiered, sir--kicked out of the service, by +Heaven! I am a Justice of the Peace, I tell you!" + +"And _coram_," put in Mr. Sturge, "and _custalorum_. He'll make a +Star-Chamber matter of it. . . . The poor fellow's raving, I tell +you. A curse on your inhumanity! But I can wait for my revenge at +Portsmouth. Approach, fellows, and knock off those gyves." + +"Justice of the Peace!" echoed Ben Jope, paying no attention whatever +to Mr. Sturge, but turning on Bill Adams with round, wondering eyes. +"I _told_ you he was something out o' the common. And you ain't had +no more sense than to knock him over the head with a cutlass!" + +"I did not," protested Bill Adams. "He took it accidental, you being +otherwise engaged; an' I stuck to the creatur', thinkin' as how you +_wanted_ him." + +"But _why_ should I want him?" + +"Damned if I know. If it comes to that"--Bill Adams jerked a thumb +towards the hammock containing Mr. Sturge--"what d'ye want _him_ +for?" + +"Oh, _him_?" answered Mr. Jope with a grin. "In a gale off +Pernambuco--" + +"What on earth are you two talking about?" asked the surgeon, who had +seated himself on the deck and, with the lantern between his feet, +was busily preparing a blister. + +"Beggin' your pardon, sir, but you haven't been on deck yet? +You haven't _seen_ the ducks we brought aboard last night?" + +"My good man, can I be in two places at once? I have been up all +night with Mr. Wapshott, and the devil of a time he's given me. +When they brought me this poor fellow, I hadn't time to do more than +order him into hammock--indeed I hadn't. Now, then"--he stood on his +feet again and addressed the marine--"fetch me a basin of water and +I'll bathe his head." + +"Is Mr. Wapshott bad, sir?" asked Ben Jope. + +"H'm," the surgeon hesitated. "Well, I don't mind admitting to you +that he was very bad indeed; but about six bells I got a draught to +take effect, and he has been sleeping ever since." + +"And you didn't see the Captain brought aboard, sir?" + +"I did not. 'Brought,' you say?" + +Ben Jope nodded his head, and for a moment or two watched in silence +the sponging of our Major's scalp. "I've known this here ship in the +variousest kinds o' weathers," he announced at length, with quiet +conviction, "but they was fool's-play one and all compared with +what's ahead of us." + +"If it comes to that again," put in Bill Adams, "I don't see but this +here Justice o' the Peace is the plum o' the whole bunch. Maybe"--he +turned to his friend--"you ain't never seen a Justice o' the Peace? +I hev'." + +"W'y," asked Ben Jope, "what's there peculiar about 'em?" + +"I got committed by one some years ago," Mr. Adams answered, with a +grave effort of memory. "At a place called Farnham, it was, a way +inland up the Portsmouth Road. Me and the landlord of a public there +came to words, by reason he called his house 'The Admiral Howe,' but +on his signboard was the face of a different man altogether. Whereby +I asked him why he done so. Whereby he said the painter didn't know +How. Whereby I knocked him down, and he called in the constables and +swore he'd meant it for a joke; and they took me afore a Justice; and +the Justice said he wouldn't yield to nobody in his respect for our +Navy, but here was a case he must put his foot down, and if necessary +with an iron hand; and gave me seven days. Which I mention because I +couldn't pay the fine, having no more than a few coppers besides what +I stood up in, and was then on my way home from the wreck of the +_Duck Sammy_ brig, which went ashore on the back of the Wight. +But if you ask me what was peculiar about the man, he was called +Bart.--Sir Samuel Brooks Bart.--and lived in a fine house as big as +Greenwich Hospital, with a gold watch-chain across his belly you +could have moored a pinnace by, and gold in his pockets +correspondin'. Whereby I larned ever since to know my betters when +ashore, and behave myself lowly and give 'em a wide berth. But this +isn't one, nor the beginnings of one, for I took the liberty to +s'arch his pockets." + +"Indeed, sir," our hero appealed to the surgeon, "my name is Hymen-- +Major Solomon Hymen--of Troy, in Cornwall. On inquiry you will find +that I am actually Chief Magistrate of that borough. Nay, I implore +you--" + +The surgeon, having bathed the wound and bound it with three strips +of plaster, took up the blister, and was on the point of applying it, +using persuasions indeed, but with the air of one who would take no +denial, when a terrible outcry at once arrested him and drowned the +Major's protestations. + +The cry--it sounded like the roar of a wounded bull--came from the +deck overhead. Its echoes sounded the very bowels of the ship; but +at the first note of it Ben Jope had clutched Bill Adams by the arm. + +"He's seen 'em!" he gasped. "Run, doctor, run--there's a dear soul-- +or he'll be doin' murder!" + +"Seen what?" + +"Run, I tell you! Come!" Suiting the action to the word, Mr. Jope, +still gripping his comrade's arm, rushed him out of the sick bay, the +doctor and the marine at their heels. In the excitement, the Major +tumbled out of his hammock, tore aside the sail-flap, and staggered +after them along the dim and empty lower-deck to a ladder which led +up to daylight. + +How to describe the spectacle which met his dazzled eyes as he thrust +his head above the hatchway? Aloft the _Vesuvius_ spread her full +sails in cloud upon cloud of dove-coloured grey (for, in fact, she +carried very dingy canvas) against the blue of heaven, and reached +along with the northerly breeze on her larboard quarter, heeling +gently, yet just low enough for the Major to blink as his gaze, +travelling beyond the lee bulwarks, caught the dazzle of foam knocked +up and spreading off her blunt bows. But not long did he gaze on +this; for in the scuppers under the bulwarks, in every attitude of +complete woe, some prostrate, some supine, all depicted with the +liveliest yellows and greens of seasickness beneath their theatrical +paint, lay the crew of H.M.S. _Poseidon_. Yes, even the wicked +Lieutenant reclined there with the rest, with one hand upraised and +grasping a ring-bolt, while the soft sway of the ship now lifted his +garish tinselled epaulettes into the sunlight, now sank and drew +across them, as upon a dial, the edge of the bulwarks' shadow. + +Right above this disconsolate group, and almost right above the +Major's head as he thrust it through the hatchway--or, to be more +precise, at the head of the ladder leading to the _Vesuvius's_ poop-- +clung a little wry-necked, red-eyed, white-faced man in dishevelled +uniform, and capered in impotent fury. But as when a child is +chastised he yells once and there follows a pause of many seconds +while he gathers up lung and larynx for the prolonged outcry, so +after his first bull-roar Captain Crang, of the _Vesuvius_ bomb, +clung to the rail of the poop-ladder and wrestled for speech, while a +little forward of the waist his crew huddled before the storm, yet +(although the Major failed to perceive this) not without exchanging +winks. + +"Wha--_what_? In the name of ten thousand devils, what the '----' +is _that_?" yelled the Captain, and choked again. + +"_In_ a gale--_off_ Pernambuco," murmured Mr. Jope. "Steady, Bill; +steady does it, mind!" Advancing to the foot of the ladder, he +touched his forelock and stood at attention. "Pressed men, sir. +Found in the theayter and brought aboard, as _per_ special order." + +The Captain's throat could be seen working within his disordered +cravat. "Them! But--Oh, help me--look at 'em, Bos'n!" + +"Sir!" + +"Look at' em!" + +"It's not for me to object, sir. As you was sayin', they don't look +it; but bein' ear-marked, so to speak--" + +"Where is Mr. Wapshott?" + +"Below, sir, as I understand," answered Mr. Jope demurely. + +"You mean to tell me, you '--' '--', that Mr. Wapshott allowed--" + +But just then, from a hatchway immediately behind Captain Crang, +there slowly emerged--there uprose--a vision whereat our Major was +not the only spectator to hold his breath. A shock of dishevelled +red hair, a lean lantern-jawed face, desperately pallid; these were +followed by a long crane-neck, and this again was continued by a pair +of shoulders of such endless declivity as surely was never seen but +in dreams. And still, as the genie from the fisherman's bottle, the +apparition evolved itself and ascended, nor ceased growing until it +overlooked the Captain's shoulder by a good three-fourths of a yard, +when it put out two hands as if seeking support and stood swaying, +with a vague, uneasy smile. + +"D'ye hear me?" thundered the Captain, leaning forward over the +ladder. + +"Ay, ay, sir," Ben Jope answered cheerfully. + +"Then what the '--' are ye staring at, you son of a '--'? Like a +stuck pig, '--' you! Like a clock-face! Like a glass-eyed cat in a +'--' thunderstorm! Like a--" + +Here, as Captain Crang drew breath to reload, so to speak, a slight +yawing of the ship (for which the helmsman might be forgiven) brought +the tall shadow of the apparition athwart his shoulder, and fetched +him about with an oath. + +"Eh? So _there_ you are!" + +Mr. Wapshott, still with his vague smile, titubated a moment, +advanced with a sort of circumspect dancing motion to the rail of the +poop, laid two shaking hands upon it, heaved a long sigh, and nodded +affably. + +"_Tha's_ all right. Where else?" + +"Look there, sir!" Captain Crang wagged a forefinger at the crowd in +the scuppers. "I want your explanation of _that!_" + +Mr. Wapshott brought his gaze to bear on the point indicated; but not +until he had scanned successively the deck gratings, the rise of the +forecastle and the main shrouds. + +"Re-markable," he answered slowly. "Mos' remarkable. One funniest +things ever saw in my life. Wha's yours?" + +"My what, sir?" + +"Eggs. Eggs-planation. Mus' ask you, sir, be so good hear me out." + +"Good Lord!" With a sudden look of horror Captain Crang let go his +hold of the poop-ladder and staggered back against the bulwarks. +"You don't mean--you're not telling me--that _I_ brought that +menagerie aboard last night!" His gaze wandered helplessly from the +first officer to the crew forward. + +"Now then, Bill, steady does it," whispered Mr. Jope, and saluted +again. "You'll excuse me, sir, but Mr. Wapshott was below last night +when we brought you aboard from dinin' with his R'yal Highness." + +"I remember nothing," groaned Captain Crang. "I never _do_ remember +when--and before the Duke too!" + +Mr. Jope coughed. "His R'yal Highness, sir--if you'll let me say +so--was a bit like what you might call everyone else last night. +He shook hands very affectionate, sir, at parting, an' hoped to have +your company again before long." + +"Did he so? Did he so?" said Captain Crang. "And--er--could you at +the same time call to mind what I answered?" + +Mr. Jope looked down modestly. "Well, sir, having my hands full at +the time wi' this here little lot, I dunno as I can remember +precisely. Was it something about the theayter, Bill?" he demanded, +turning to Mr. Adams. + +"It wor," answered Mr. Adams sturdily. + +"And as how you'd never shipped a crew o' playactors afore, but you'd +do your best?" + +"Either them very words or to that effect," confirmed Mr. Adams, +breathing hard and staring defiantly at the horizon. + +"The theatre? . . . I was at the theatre?" Captain Crang passed a +shaking hand over his brow. "No, damme! . . . and yet I remember now +at dinner I heard the Duke say--" + +Here it was Captain Crang's turn to stare dumbfounded at an +apparition, as a pair of handcuffed wrists thrust themselves up +through the main hatchway and were painfully followed by the rest of +Mr. Orlando B. Sturge. + +"Oh, good Lord! Look! Is the ship full of 'em?" shouted the +Captain. + +"They ain't real," murmured Mr. Wapshott soothingly. "You'll get +accustomed. They began by being frogs," he explained, with the +initiatory air of an elder brother, and waved a feeble hand. "Eggs-- +if you'll 'low me, sir, to conclude--egg-sisting in the 'magination +only. Go 'way--shoo!" + +But Mr. Sturge was not to be disembodied so easily. On the contrary, +as the vessel lurched, he sat down suddenly with a material thud and +clash of handcuffs upon the poultry-coop, nor was sooner haled to his +feet by the strong arm of Mr. Adams than he struck an attitude and +opened on the Captain in his finest baritone. + +"'Look,' say'st thou? Ay, then, look! Nay, gloat if thou wilt, +tyrant--miscreant shall I say?--in human form! Yielding, if I may +quote my friend here"--Mr. Sturge laid both handcuffed hands on the +shoulder of Bill Adams--"yielding to none, I say, in my admiration of +Britain's Navy, I hold myself free to protest against the lawlessness +of its minions. I say deliberately, sir, its minions. My name, sir, +is Orlando B. Sturge. If that conveys aught to such an intelligence +as yours, you will at once turn this vessel round and convey us back +to Plymouth with even more expedition than you brought us hither." + +Captain Crang fell back and caught at the mizzen shrouds. + +"Was I so bad as all that?" he stammered, as Ben Jope, believing him +attacked by apoplexy, rushed up the poop-ladder and bent over him. + +"Lor' bless you, sir," said Mr. Jope, "the best of us may be mistaken +at times. But as I've al'ays said, and will maintain, gentlemen will +be gentlemen." + +But Captain Crang, letting slip his grasp of the shrouds, plumped +down on deck in a sitting posture and with a sound like the echo of +his own name. + + + +CHAPTER XV. + + +UP-CHANNEL. + + "A wet sheet and a flowing sea," + +(Sings Allan Cunningham), + + "A wind that follows fast, + And fills the white and rustling sail + And bends the gallant mast; + And bends the gallant mast, my boys, + When, like an eagle free, + Away the good ship flies, and leaves + Old England on the lee." + +I quote these famous lines for their spirit rather than their +accuracy. It is not every ship that can so defy the laws of nature +as to run off a lee shore with a shore wind; and the _Vesuvius_ bomb, +reaching up Channel with a rare nor'-nor'-westerly breeze, kept old +England well to windward all the time. But as Mr. Sturge explained +to the Major, later in the day, "Without being a practical seaman, an +artist can yet catch the spirit of these things and impart it to his +fellow-men." + +Mr. Sturge was not criticising (by anticipation) Allan Cunningham's +lines, but talking, as usual, about himself. Many circumstances +combined to induce a cheerful mood in him. To begin with, his +manacles had been removed. Also he had overcome the morning's +nausea. The _Vesuvius_--a deep vessel for her size--was by no means +speedy off the wind, and travelled indeed like a slug; but her frame, +built for the heavy mortars, was extraordinarily stout in comparison +with her masts, and this gave her stability. She was steering a +course, too, which kept her fairly close inshore and in smooth water. + +Indeed, so far as physical conditions went, Mr. Sturge was enjoying a +pleasure trip. His bold expostulations, moreover (for he did not +lack courage), had considerably impressed Captain Crang, who, though +not easily cowed as a rule, met them at a double disadvantage, being +at once unable to recall the events of overnight, and firmly +convinced that the whole misadventure was a trick of his Royal +Highness. In this state of mind the Captain, shaken by his debauch, +had almost collapsed before Mr. Sturge's demand that the ship should +be put about--or, as he expressed it, turned round--and navigated to +the nearest point of shore. + +"If," said Mr. Sturge, with a comprehensive wave of the hand, "if +along yon coast, in cove or bay or any natural recess--call it how +you will--there lurk a bench of magistrates insensate enough, as you +believe, to uphold this violation of a British subject's liberty, +steer for them, sir! I challenge you to steer for them! I can say +no fairer than that. Select what tribunal you please, sir, and I +will demonstrate before it that I and my companions, in spite of +appearances, are _no_ seamen. You are to understand that by this +disclaimer I cast no reflection upon even the humblest toiler of the +deep. Nay, while myself inept either to trim the sail or net the +finny tribes, I respect those hardy callings--no man more so. Only I +claim that my own profession exempts me from this respectable but +un-congenial service; and that in short, sir, by forcibly trepanning +me, you have rendered yourself liable to swingeing damages, besides +inviting public attention to the fact that you were senselessly +intoxicated last night." + +This harangue, admirably delivered, took Captain Crang between wind +and water. It was in vain he looked to his first officer for help. +Mr. Wapshott, still swaying by the poop rail, lifted and wagged an +admonitory forefinger. + +"No use y'r asking me," said Mr. Wapshott. "_I_ didn't dine with the +Duke." He paused and asked with sudden inconsequent heartiness, +"Well, and how did you get along, you two?" + +"If only I could tell!" murmured Captain Crang, passing a hand over +his brow. + +"Not stuck-up, I hope? Affable? I'll bet any man sixpence he was +affable. Mind you, I don't speak from 'xperience," went on Mr. +Wapshott, more in sorrow than in anger. "_I_ don't dine out with +Admirals of the Fleet. The Blood Royal don't invite James Wapshott +to take a cup of kindness yet for auld lang syne, for auld lang syne, +my dear, for auld. . . . You'll excuse me, sir, some little emotion; +Robert Burns--Robbie--affecting beggar, mor' specially in his +homelier passages. A ploughman, sir; and from Ayrshire, damme!" + + "'Wee sleekit crimson-tippit beastie--'" + +"Are you addressing me, sir?" roared Captain Crang. + +"Norratall. Field-mouse. _That_"--Mr. Wapshott drew himself up-- +"_that's_ the 'stonishing thing about it." + +"Go to your cabin, sir," the Captain commanded; "and you, +Mr. What's-your-name, come below and explain yourself." + +Thus, not without dignity, he withdrew from the field. But he +was beaten; and in his cabin a few minutes later he capitulated. +Mr. Sturge having been convinced that the ship could not be turned +around and headed back for Plymouth without grave inconvenience, and +perhaps detriment to his Majesty's service, it was agreed that he and +his company should be packed ashore immediately on reaching +Portsmouth. The question of compensation was waived by consent; +though Captain Crang shrewdly expressed his hope that, whatever steps +Mr. Sturge might take after consulting a solicitor, his Royal +Highness would not be dragged into the affair. + +In short, Mr. Sturge reappeared on deck in high spirits. He had +bearded a British officer--and a formidable one--in his den and had +come off victorious. He had secured his own liberty and his +comrades', and (as reflection told him) a first-class advertisement +to boot. Altogether, he had done very well indeed; and Mr. Jope, +chastened by his own narrow escape from a situation which at one +moment had promised to be serious, wisely left him all the credit of +this lucky turn of affairs. Mr. Jope, who ranked next to the Captain +and First Officer on the ship's executive, and actually ruled her +during their indisposition, exacted no work from his prisoners; but +was content to admire them from a distance--as, indeed, did the rest +of the crew--retiring from time to time behind convenient shelters to +hide their indecorous mirth. During the afternoon it may be said +that Mr. Sturge's troupe had the deck aft of the forecastle to +themselves. Being unacquainted with naval usage, they roamed the +poop indifferently with the main deck, no man forbidding them, while +Captain Crang and Mr. Wapshott slumbered below; the one of set +purpose, in the hope of recapturing through the gates of horn, if not +the complete data of last night's imbroglio, at least sufficient for +a plausible defence; the other under the influence of sedatives +administered by the Doctor. + +"I should soon get used to this life, d'ye know?" announced Mr. +Sturge, approaching the Major with a jaunty, almost extra-nautical +step, and clapping him, seaman fashion, on the shoulder. + +It was the hour of sunset. The _Vesuvius_, bowling along merrily, a +bare three miles off Berry Head, had opened the warm red-sandstone +cliffs of Torbay; and the Major, leaning over the larboard bulwark, +gazed on the slowly moving shore in gloomy abstraction. He had been +less fortunate than Mr. Sturge in his encounter with the Captain, +whom he had interrupted in the act of retiring to slumber. + +"One moment, sir," he had begun, confidently enough. "The +accomplished _artiste_ to whose representations you have been good +enough to listen, has told you--so far as he is concerned--the simple +truth. To a certain extent I can corroborate him. But I beg you to +understand that he and I--if I may employ a nautical phrase--are not +in the same boat." + +"Who the devil may _you_ be?" Captain Crang interposed. + +"That, sir," answered the Major with dignity, "is precisely what I +propose to explain. By an accident I find myself without a +visiting-card; but my name, sir, is Hymen--Major Hymen, sir--of the +Troy Volunteer Artillery (better known to you, perhaps, as the +Gallants), and Chief Magistrate of that ancient and picturesque +little borough." + +Captain Crang stared at him for a moment with lowered brows and jaw +working as if it chewed the cud of his wrath. + +"Look here," he replied. "You're the funny man of the troupe, I +suppose? Comic Irishman and that sort of thing, hey?" + +"I assure you, sir--" + +"And I assure _you_, sir, that if you come the funny dog over me, +I'll have you up to the gratings in two shakes of a duck's tail, and +tickle your funny ribs with three dozen of the best. Understand?" +The Captain paused, trembling with rage. "Understand, hey, you +'--' little barnstorming son of a '--'? Made a mistake, have I? +Cut your capers at my expense, would you, you little baldheaded runt? +By '--' if you pull another face at me, sir, you shall caper off the +yardarm, sir; on a string, sir; high as Haman, sir! I hope, sir," +wound up Captain Crang, recovering his calm, "that on this point, at +any rate, I have left no room for misunderstanding." + + +It will excite no wonder that Mr. Sturge found the Major somewhat +irresponsive to his own jubilant mood. + +"I should soon get used to this life," he repeated. "There's a +spirit in it--a breeziness, I may call it--which is positively +infectious. You don't find it so?" + +"I do not," the Major confessed. + +Mr. Sturge pointed his toe and seemed about to execute the first +steps of a hornpipe, but checked himself. + +"Rough tongue, the Captain's?" he queried. + +The Major swallowed a lump in his throat but did not answer. + +"Hasty temper. Under the circumstances, we may make some little +excuse, perhaps." + +"I prefer not to discuss it. The man has insulted me." + +"His bark is worse than his bite, I find," said Mr. Sturge +complacently. "And, after all, the moment you chose was not +precisely opportune--was it, now?" + +"I am not used, sir, to have my word doubted by any man." + +"Well, but--appearances considered--you pitched it pretty strong, eh? +Local magnate, and that sort of thing . . . it _did_ seem like taking +advantage of his condition." + +"Advantage? Appearances? What do you mean, sir?" + +The Major turned resentfully, and at the same instant recollected +that he wore no wig. He blushed, His hand went up to his scalp. + +"Makes a difference," said Mr. Sturge. "Allow me." He drew from the +breast of his shirt a small pocket mirror. "I carry it always. +Useful--tittivate myself--in the wings." + +"The wings?" echoed the Major dully, taking the glass. He gazed into +it and started back with a cry. + +What an image was there confronting him! Was this the face of Troy's +Chief Magistrate? (forgive the blank verse). Were these the +features--was this the aspect--from which virtue had so often derived +its encouragement and wrongdoing its reproof? Was this the figure +the ladies of Troy had been wont to follow with all but idolatrous +gaze? Nay, who was this man--unshaven, unkempt, unbewigged, smeared +with mud from head to foot, and from scalp to jaw with commingling +bloodstains? The Major groaned incredulous, horrified; gazed, +shuddered, and groaned again. + +"Mind you," said Mr. Sturge reassuringly, "I'm not calling the truth +of your story into question for a moment. But under the +circumstances you'll allow it was a trifle stiff." + +"It is true to the last particular," insisted the Major, recovering +his dignity. + +"But come, now! Without a penny in your pocket, or so much as a +scrap of paper to identify you, you'll admit it was stiff? +Look here," he went on with a change of tone, slipping his arm +amicably within the Major's, "I've an idea. Comrades in adversity, +you know, and all that sort of thing. I've taken a liking to you, +and can do you a good turn. Drop that yarn of yours--'yarn,' +seafaring expression; odd how one catches the _colour_, so to speak. +Drop that yarn of yours. You're one of _us_, understand? The +Captain'll believe that; indeed, he believes it already--called you a +damned low-comedy man in my hearing. Very well; soon as we anchor +off Spithead, he outs with a boat and lands us ashore. I have his +solemn promise. Leave me to square that bos'n fellow--Jope, or +whatever he calls himself--and the job's as good as done." + +"And do you seriously propose," interrupted the Major, folding his +arms, "that I should pass myself off for a play-actor? Never, sir; +never!" + +"Why not?" asked Mr. Sturge easily. + +"I forbear, sir, to wound your feelings by explaining why your +suggestion is repugnant to me. Let it suffice that I detest deceit, +subterfuge, equivocation; or, if that suffice not, let me ask if you +do not propose, on reaching shore, to institute legal proceedings +against this petty tyrant?" + +"Probably." + +"Why, then, and how much more reparation does he not owe _me_, a +Justice of the Peace? Nay, sir, he shall pay me damages for this +kidnapping; but he has not stopped short there. He has used language +to me which can only be wiped out in blood. My first business on +stepping ashore will be to seek someone through whom I can convey my +demand for satisfaction. With what face, think you, could I present +this cartel if my own behaviour had been other than correct?" + +"You're not telling me you mean to fight him?" asked Mr. Sturge, +convinced by this time that he had to deal with a lunatic. + +"Pardon me." The Major bowed with grave irony. "This conversation, +sir, was of your seeking. I have paid you, it appears, too high a +compliment in assuming that you would understand what follows when a +gentleman is called the son of a--!" + +Mr. Sturge shrugged his shoulders and walked forward to seek Ben +Jope, whom he found by the forecastle hatchway engaged in slicing a +quid of black tobacco. + +"You'll excuse me," he asked, "but that rum little man who calls +himself Hymen--where did he escape from?" + +"Escape!" Ben Jope sprang to his feet, but catching sight of the +Major, who had resumed his pensive attitude by the bulwarks, sat down +again heavily. "Lord, but you frightened me! That Hymen don't +escape; not if I know it. He's the apple of my eye, or becoming so. +Now I tell you," said Mr. Jope, beginning to slice again at his +tobacco, then pausing to look up with engaging frankness; "you took +my fancy terrible for a few minutes; but, come to see you by +daylight, you're too pink." + +Mr. Sturge might have pressed for an explanation; but at this +juncture the first lieutenant of H.M.S. _Poseidon_ came forward, +still with his painted scowl, and demanded to know, since the +_Vesuvius_ could not reach Portsmouth for many hours, when supper +would be served, and what bedroom accommodation she provided. + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + +FAREWELL TO ALBION! + +Shortly after noon next day, the wind still holding from the N.N.W., +though gradually falling light, the _Vesuvius_ dropped anchor off +Spithead, and Captain Crang at once ordered a boat's crew to convey +the captives ashore. + +The Major waved farewell to them from the deck. Though once again +approached by Mr. Sturge, he had repelled all persuasions. In his +breast there welled up an increasing bitterness against his fate, but +on the point of dignity he could not be shaken. He would, on the +first fit occasion, have Captain Crang's blood; but he was obdurate, +though it cost him liberty for a while and compelled him to +disgusting hardship, to stand on the strictest terms of quarrel. + +He turned to find the boatswain at his elbow, eyeing him with +sympathy and even a touch of respect. + +"You done well," said Mr. Jope. "You don't look it, but you done +well, and I'll see you don't get put upon." + + +The _Vesuvius's_ destination, as the Major learnt, was to join a +squadron watching the Gallo-Batavian flotilla off the ports of +Boulogne, Ambleteuse and Calais; and the occasion of her dropping +anchor off Portsmouth on the way was a special and somewhat singular +one; yet no more singular than the crisis with which Great Britain +had then to cope. + +Behind the sandhills from Ostend around to Etaples lay a French army +of 130,000 men, ready to invade us if for a few hours it could catch +our fleets napping. To transport them Napoleon had collected in the +ports of Ostend, Dunkirk, Calais, Ambleteuse, Vimereux, Boulogne and +Etaples, 954 transports and 1339 armed vessels--gun-brigs, schooners, +luggers, schuyts and prames; and all these light vessels lay snug in +their harbours, protected by shoals and sandbanks which our heavier +ships of war, by reason of their draught, could not approach. + +In particular, a double tier of vessels--one hundred and fifty in +all--which were moored outside the pier of Boulogne, and protected by +heavy shore batteries, excited while it baulked the rage of our +gallant seamen manoeuvring in the deep waters of the Channel. + +Strange diseases suggest strange remedies. Our Admiralty, in the +spring of the year, had been approached by an ingenious gentleman +with the model of an invention by which he professed himself able to +reach these hundred and fifty ships in Boulogne and blow them in air +without loss or even danger to our fleet. This machine consisted of +a box, about twenty feet long by three feet wide, lined with lead, +caulked, tarred, ballasted and laden almost to the water's edge with +barrels of powder and other combustibles. In the midst of the +inflammable matter was placed a clockwork mechanism which, on the +withdrawal of a peg, would in a fixed time (within some ten minutes +or thereabouts) ignite and explode the vessel. + +A dozen of these engines, claimed the inventor, if towed within range +and released, to be swept down upon Boulogne pier by the tide, would +within a few minutes shatter and dispel the nightmare of invasion. + +The Admiralty sanctioned the experiment, news of which had awakened +some interest not unmixed with derision throughout the British Fleet; +and the business which called the _Vesuvius_ to Portsmouth was to +take in tow the first of these catamarans (as our sailors called +them) and convey it across to the squadron watching Boulogne. + +On the morning after the _Vesuvius's_ arrival, two dockyard boats +arrived with the hull of the machine in tow--it resembled nothing so +much as a mahogany coffin--and attached her to the _Vesuvius's_ stern +by a kind of shoreline. This done, the officer in charge presented +himself on board with the clockwork under his arm, and in his hand a +letter for Captain Crang, the first result of which was an order to +dress ship. Within half an hour the _Vesuvius's_ crew had adorned +her from bowsprit to trucks and from trucks to stern with bunting, as +if for a Birthday; though, as Mr. Jope observed, with a glance at the +catamaran astern, the preparations pointed rather to a funeral. +Mr. Jope, as third officer of the ship, betrayed some soreness that +his two superiors had not taken him into their confidence. + +At eleven o'clock Captain Crang and Mr. Wapshott appeared on the poop +in full uniform, and a further order was issued to load the guns +blank for a salute. + +Hitherto the Major had been but an idler about deck; but finding the +crew of a gun short-handed, he volunteered his services, and was +immersed in the business of loading when a hand clapped him on the +shoulder. Turning, he confronted the boatswain. + +"And you go for to pretend for to tell me," said Mr. Jope +reproachfully, "that you're a amachoor!" + +The Major was about to explain that as an officer of artillery he +understood the working of a gun, when a loud banging from the town +drew all eyes shoreward; and presently Captain Crang, who had been +gazing in that direction through his glass, called to Mr. Wapshott, +who in turn shouted an order to man the yards. + +As this was an order which the Major neither understood nor, had he +understood it, could comply with, he remained on deck while the +sailors swarmed aloft and disposed themselves in attitudes the mere +sight of which turned him giddy, so wantonly precarious they seemed. + +The strains of the National Anthem from a distant key-bugle drew his +eyes shoreward again, and between the moored ships he descried a +white-painted gig approaching, manned by twenty oars and carrying an +enormous flag on a staff astern--the Royal Standard of England. + +Not until the gig, fetching a long sweep, had made a half-circuit of +the _Vesuvius_ and fallen alongside her accommodation-ladder did the +Major comprehend. Captain Crang, with Mr. Wapshott behind him, had +stepped down the ladder and stood at the foot of it reverently +lifting his cocked hat. + +That rotund, star-bedecked figure in the stern sheet, beside the Port +Admiral--that classic but full-blooded face crowned with a chestnut +wig. . . . Who could it be if not his Royal Highness the Prince +Regent? + +Yes, it was he. Had not our Major scanned those features often +enough--in his own mirror? + +The Port Admiral was inviting Captain Crang to step into the gig. +The Prince nodded a careless, haughty assent, shrinking a little, +however, as Mr. Wapshott passed down the clockwork of the catamaran +for his royal inspection. Recovering himself, he glanced at it +perfunctorily and nodded to the sailors to give way and pull towards +the hull of the infernal machine. + +The curiosity which had brought him down to Portsmouth to inspect it +seemed, however, to have evaporated. The gig fell alongside the +coffin-like log, and the Port Admiral, having taken the clockwork out +of Captain Crang's hand, had launched into an explanation of its +working when the Prince signified hurriedly that he had seen as much +as he desired. Back to the ship the gig drifted on the tide, and +Captain Crang, dismissed with a curt nod, stepped on to the ladder +again, turned, and saluted profoundly. + +As he did so, the Major, erect above the bulwarks, found speech. + +"Your Royal Highness!" he cried. "Nay, but pardon me, your Royal +Highness! If I may crave the favour--explanation--a prisoner, +unjustly detained--" + +The Prince Regent lifted his eyes lazily as the bowman thrust off. + +"What a dam funny-looking little man!" commented he aloud, nudging +the Port Admiral, who had risen and was calling out the order to give +way for shore. + +"But, your Royal Highness!--" + +The Major raised himself on tiptoe with arms outstretched after the +receding boat. On the instant the ship shook under him as with an +earthquake, and drowned his voice in the thunders of a royal salute. + +"The Emperor Jovinian, Mr. Jope--" + +"Who was 'e?" Mr. Jope interrupted. + +Two days had passed, and the better part of a third. They seemed as +many years to our hero as, seated on the carriage of one of the +_Vesuvius's_ starboard guns in company with the boatswain and Bill +Adams, he watched through its open port the many-twinkling smiles of +the sea, and, scarce two leagues away, the coast of France golden +against the sunset. + +"I am not precisely aware when he flourished," said the Major, "but +will make a point of inquiring when I return home. To tell you the +truth, I heard the story in church, in a sermon of our worthy +Vicar's, little dreaming under what circumstances I should recall it +as applicable to my own lot." + +"If it's out of a sermon," said Mr. Jope, "you may fire ahead. +But if, as you say, the man was taken for someone else, I thought it +would be clearer to start by knowing who he _was_." + +"It happened in this way. The Emperor Jovinian one sultry afternoon +in summer was hunting--" + +"What--foxes?" + +"Keep quiet," put in Mr. Adams. "When he's telling you it happened +in a sermon!" + +"In the ardour of the chase he had left his retinue far behind; and +finding himself by the shore of a lake, he alighted and refreshed +himself with a swim in its cool waters. While he thus disported +himself, a beggar stole his horse and his clothes." + +Mr. Jope smote his leg. "Now I call that a thundering good yarn! +Short, sharp, and to the point." + +"But you haven't heard the end." + +"Eh? Is there any more of it?" + +"Certainly. The Emperor, discovering the theft, was forced to creep +naked and ashamed to the nearest castle." + +"What was he ashamed of?" + +"Why, of being naked." + +"I see. Damme, it fits in like a puzzle!" + +"But at the castle, sad to say, no one recognised the proud Jovinian. +'Avaunt!' said the porter, and threatened to have him whipped for his +impudence. This distressing experience caused the Emperor to reflect +on the vanity of human pretensions, seeing that he, of whom the world +stood in awe, had, with the loss of a few clothes, forfeited the +respect of a slave." + +"I see," repeated Mr. Jope, as the narrator paused. "What became of +the beggar?" + +"I knew a worse case than that, even," said Bill Adams, turning his +quid meditatively. "It happened to a Bristol man, once a shipmate of +mine; by name Zekiel Philips, and not at all inclined to stoutness +when I knew him." + +"Why _should_ he be?" + +"You wait. His wife kept a slop-shop at Bristol, near the foot of +Christmas Stairs--if you know where that is?" + +The Major, thus challenged, shook his head. + +"Ah, well; you'll have heard of O-why-hee, anyway--where they +barbecued Captain Cook? And likewise of Captain Bligh of the +_Bounty_--Breadfruit Bligh, as they call him to this day? +Well, Bligh, as you know, took the _Bounty_ out to the Islands under +Government orders to collect breadfruit, the notion being that it +could be planted in the West Indies and grown at a profit. When he +came to grief and Government lookedlike dropping the job, a party of +Bristol merchants took the matter up, having interests of their own +in the West Indies, and fitted out a vessel--a brig she was, as I +remember--called the _Perseverance_. Whereby this here friend o' +mine, Zekiel Philips by name, shipped aboard of her. Whereby they +made a good passage and anchored off one of the islands--Otaheety or +not, I won't say--and took aboard a cargo, being, as they supposed, +ord'nary breadfruit; and stood away east-by-south for the Horn, +meaning to work up to Kingston, Jamaica. But this particular +breadfruit was of a fattening natur', whether eaten or, as you may +say, ab-sorbed into the system through a part of it getting down to +the bilge and fermenting, and the gas of it working up through the +vessel. Whereby, the breeze holding steady and no sail to trim for +some days, the crew took it easy below, with naught to warn 'em, +unless, maybe, 'twas a tight'ning o' the buttons. Whereby on the +fifth day they ran a-foul of a cyclone; and the cry being for all +hands on deck, half a dozen stuck in the hatchway and had to be sawed +loose. Whereby, in the meantime, she carried away her mainm'st, and +the wreckage knocked a hole in her starboard quarter. Likewise, her +stern-post being rotten, she lost a pintle, and the helm began to +look fifty ways for Sunday. All o' which caused the skipper to lay +to, fix up a jury rudder and run up for the nearest island to caulk +and repair. But meantime, and before he sighted land, this +unfortunate crew kept puttin' on flesh--and the cause of it hid from +them all the time--till there wasn't on the ship a pair of +smallclothes but had refused duty. Whereby, coming to the island in +question, they went ashore, every man Jack in loin-cloths cut out o' +the stun-s'le, and the rest of 'em as bare as the back of my hand. +Whereby their appearance excited the natives to such a degree, being +superstitious, they was set upon and eaten to a man. The moral +bein'," concluded Mr. Adams, "that a man lay be brought low by bein' +puffed up." + +"Ay," said Mr. Jope after a pause. "I never had no great +acquaintance with poetry, but I bought a pocket-handkercher once for +tuppence with a verse on it:" + + "'Ri fal de ral diddle, ri fal de ral dee, + What ups and downs in the world there be!' + +"And I don't believe you could use a truer text for the purpose, no +matter what you paid." + +The Major sighed. He was a high-spirited man, as the reader knows, +and I believe that, but for one cruel memory, he might have learnt +even to taste some humour in his situation. Thanks to Mr. Jope and +Mr. Adams, who had taken a genuine fancy to him, he found life on +board the _Vesuvius_ cheerful if not comfortable. The fare was +Spartan, indeed, but, for a short holiday, tolerable. The prospect +of seeing some real fighting excited him pleasurably, for he was no +coward. Here, before his eyes, lay the coast of France; the actual +forts and guns with which his imagination had so often played. +What a tale he would have to tell on his return! And, by the way, +how his poor Trojans must be suffering in his absence, without news +of him! He pictured that return. . . . Yes, indeed, it was at the +expense of Troy that Fortune had conceived this practical joke. +He could even smile, as yet, at the thought of the Baskets' dismay as +they searched the house for him. He wondered if Mr. Basket had +forwarded his letter to Miss Marty, at the same time announcing his +disappearance. Well, well, he would dry her tears. . . . + +But upon this came the recollection of those cruel words: + +"_What a dam funny-looking little man!_" + +He might--he assuredly would--keep them a secret in his own breast. +But they echoed there. + +His vanity was robust. Again and again it asserted its health in his +day-dreams, expelling, or all but expelling, that poisonous memory. +Only at night, in his hammock, it awoke again--sinister, premonitory. +But as yet the man continued cheerfully incredulous. Fate was +playing, less on him than through him, a rare practical joke--no +more. + + +On the eighth of June, at about nine o'clock in the evening, it +occurred to Admiral Lord Keith that the wind and weather afforded an +excellent opportunity of testing the _Vesuvius's_ far-famed catamaran +against the shipping moored off Boulogne pier. He signalled +accordingly; and at nine-thirty, under the eyes of the squadron, a +boat from the bomb-ship started to tow the infernal machine towards +the harbour. By leave of Bill Adams, commanding, our Major made one +of the crew of twelve. + +In less than a quarter of an hour their approach was signalled by the +enemy's vedettes to the forts ashore, which promptly opened fire. +Mr. Adams, having towed the catamaran within its proper range, with +his own hand pulled the plug releasing the clockwork, and gave the +order to cast off, leaving wind and tide to do the rest; which they +doubtless would have done had not a gun from one of the French +batteries plumped a shot accurately into the catamaran. + +The catamaran exploded with a terrific report, and the wave of the +explosion caught the retreating boat, lifted her seven feet, capsized +her, and brought her accurately down, bottom upwards. + +A score of boats put out to the rescue, picked up the exhausted +swimmers, and attempted to right and recover the boat, but abandoned +this attempt on the approach of an overwhelming force of French. + +These, coming up, seized on the boat and gallantly, under a +short-dropping fire from our squadron, proceeded to right their +prize; and, righting her, discovered Major Hymen, clinging to a +thwart, trapped as an earwig is trapped beneath an inverted +flower-pot. + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + + +MISSING! + +Miss Marty had just finished watering her sweet-peas and mignonette; +had inspected each of the four standard roses beside the front gate +in search of green-fly; had caught a snail sallying forth to dine +late upon her larkspurs, and called to Cai Tamblyn to destroy it; +had, in short, performed all her ritual for the cool of the day; and +was removing her gardening gloves when a vehement knocking agitated +the front door, and Scipio hurried to announce that a caller--a +Mr. Basket--desired to see her on important business. + +"Mr. Basket?" she echoed apprehensively, and made at once for the +parlour, where she found her visitor mopping his brow. Despite the +heat, he was pale. In his left hand he held a letter. + +"You will pardon me," he began in a flutter. "Am I addressing Miss +Martha Hymen?" + +"You are, sir." Miss Marty clasped her hands in alarm at his +demeanour. "Oh, tell me what has happened!" + +"All the way from Plymouth on purpose," answered Mr. Basket. +"Most mysterious occurrence . . . ate a good dinner and retired to +his room apparently in the best of health and spirits. On our return +from the theatre he was gone." + +"Gone?" + +"Disappeared, vanished! We searched the house. His watch and +pocket-book lay on the bed, together with a certain amount of +loose change. His wig, too . . . you were aware?" + +"I have gone so far as to suspect it. But what dreadful news is +this? Disappeared? Leaving no clue?" + +"We are in hopes, my wife and I, that this may afford a clue. +A letter, and addressed to you; it lay upon his writing-table. +We did not feel ourselves at liberty to break the seal. I trust--I +sincerely trust--it may put a period to our suspense." + +Miss Marty took the letter, glanced at the address and tore the paper +open with trembling hands. She perused the first few sentences with +a puckered, puzzled brow; then of a sudden her eyes grew wide and +round. Despite herself she uttered a little gasping cry. + +"It contains a clue at least?" asked Mr. Basket, who had been +watching her face anxiously. "Dear lady, what does he say?" + +"Nun--nothing," Miss Marty caught at the back of a Chippendale chair +for support. + +"Nothing?" echoed Mr. Basket blankly. + +"Nothing--That is to say I can't tell you. Oh, this is horrible!" + +"But pardon me," Mr. Basket insisted. "After travelling all the way +from Plymouth!" + +"I can't possibly tell you," she repeated. + +"But, madam, consider my responsibility! I must really ask you to +consider my responsibility." + +"If I could only realise it! Oh, give me time, sir!" + +"Certainly, certainly; by all means take your time. Nevertheless, +when you consider my distress of mind, I appeal to you, madam, to be +merciful and relieve it. After travelling all this distance in the +dark--" + +"In the dark?" queried Miss Marty, with a glance at the window. + +"Tormented by a thousand speculations. In my house, too! In good +health, and apparently the best of spirits; and then without a word, +like the snuff of a candle!" + +"His brain must be affected," Miss Marty murmured, gazing at the +letter again. The handwriting swam before her. "Excuse me, sir, I +will not detain you a minute." + +She ran from the room and upstairs to her room, her knees shaking +beneath her. Heaven grant that the Doctor was at home! She agitated +her window-blind violently and drew it down to the third pane. +"You are wanted--urgent," was the message it conveyed. + +Yes, he was at home. "I come, instantly," answered her lover's +window; and in less than a minute, to her infinite relief, the Doctor +emerged from his front doorway and came bustling up the street almost +at a trot. + +She ran down and admitted him. In her face he read instantly that +something serious had happened; something serious if not +catastrophical: but with finger on lip she enjoined silence and led +the way to the parlour. + +"This gentleman has just arrived from Plymouth, with serious news of +the Major." + +"Serious? He is not ill, I trust?" + +"Worse," said Mr. Basket. + +"But first," interposed Miss Marty, "you must read this letter. +Yes, yes!"--blushing hotly, she thrust it into the Doctor's +unresisting hands--"you have the right. Forgive me if I seem +indecorous: but in such a situation you only can help me." + +"Eh? Oh, certainly--h'm, h'm!--" The Doctor adjusted his glasses and +began to read in a low mumbling voice. By and by he paused, then +slowly looked up with pained, incredulous eyes. + +"This is some horrible dream!" he groaned and, feeling his way to the +Major's armchair, sank into it heavily. + +"He swoons!" exclaimed Miss Marty. "One moment--a glassful of the +Fra Angelico!" + +She ran to the cupboard, found decanter and glasses, poured out a +dose and came hurrying back with it. He declined it, waving her off +with a feeble motion of the hand. + +She appealed to Mr. Basket. "Will _you_, sir?" + +Mr. Basket confessed afterwards that for the moment, excusably +perhaps, he lost his presence of mind. She had motioned to him to +administer the dose. He misunderstood. Taking the glass +distractedly, he drained it to the dregs, clapped a hand to his +windpipe, and collapsed, sputtering, in a chair facing the Doctor. + +"Oh, what have I done?" wailed Miss Marty. + +"He deserved it!" + +The Doctor pulled himself together, stood erect, and, lurching +forward, gripped Mr. Basket by the shoulder. + +"Sir, this lady is my affianced wife!" + +"Would you--mind--tapping me in the back?" pleaded Mr. Basket, +between the catches of his breath. + +"Not at all, sir." The Doctor complied. "As I was saying, this lady +is my affianced wife. Though Major Hymen were ten thousand times my +friend--by placing both hands on your stomach and bending forward a +little you will find yourself relieved--though Major Hymen were ten +thousand times my friend, it should be over my prostrate body, sir; +and so you may go back and tell him!" + +"But I can't find him!" almost screamed Mr. Basket. + +"He has disappeared!" quavered Miss Marty. + +"It's the best thing he could do!" Dr. Hansombody folded his arms and +looked at Mr. Basket with fierce decision. "Disappeared? Where?" + +They answered him in agitated duetto. "Where indeed?" The Major had +vanished, dissolved out of mortal ken, melted (one might say) into +thin air. "If one may quote the Bard, sir, in this connection"--Mr. +Basket wound up his recital--"like an insubstantial pageant faded he +has left not a rack behind; that is to say, unless the letter in your +hands may be considered as answering that description." + +"There's only one explanation," the Doctor declared. "The man must +be mad." + +Mr. Basket considered this for a moment and shook his head. "We left +him, sir, in the completest possession of his faculties. In all my +long acquaintance with him I never detected the smallest symptom of +mental aberration; and last night--good God! to think that this +happened no longer ago than last night!"--Mr. Basket passed a hand +over his brow--"Last night, sir, I recognised with delight the same +shrewd judgment, the same masculine intellect, the same large outlook +on men and affairs, the same self-confidence and self-respect--in +short, sir, all the qualities for which I ever admired my old +friend." + +"Nevertheless," the Doctor insisted, "he must have been mad when he +penned this letter." + +"Of the contents of which, let me remind you, I am still ignorant." + +The Doctor glanced at Miss Marty, then handed the letter to Mr. +Basket with a bow. "You have a right to peruse it, sir. You will +see, however, that its contents are of a strictly private nature, and +will respect this lady's confidence." + +"Certainly, certainly." Mr. Basket drew out his spectacles, and, +receiving Miss Marty's permission, seated himself at the table, +spread out the letter and slowly read it through. "Most +extraordinary! _Most_ extraordinary! But you'll excuse my saying +that while, unfortunately, it affords no clue, this seems to me as +far as possible removed from the composition of a madman." He gazed +almost gallantly over his spectacles at Miss Marty, who coloured. +"In any case," he went on, folding up the letter and returning it, +"the man must be found. I understand, madam, that you are a relative +of his? Has he any others with whom we can communicate?" + +"So far as I know, sir, none." + +"I have a chaise awaiting me on the other side of the ferry. +With all respect, dear madam, I suggest it; I am sorry indeed to put +you to inconvenience--" + +"You propose that Miss Marty, here, should accompany you back to +Plymouth?" + +"That was the suggestion in my mind. And you, too, sir--that is, if +you can make it square with your engagements. Mrs. Basket will be +happy to extend her hospitality. . . . Two heads are better than one, +sir. We will prosecute our investigations together . . . with the +help of the constabulary, of course. We should communicate with the +constabulary, or our position may eventually prove an awkward one." + +"Yes, yes; the man having disappeared from your house." + +"Quite so. Apart from that, I see no immediate necessity for making +the matter public; but am willing to defer to your judgment." + +"That is a question we had better leave until we have seen the Chief +Constable at Plymouth. To publish the news here and now in Troy +would cause an infinite alarm, possibly an idle one. By the time we +reach Plymouth our friend may have reappeared, or at least disclosed +his whereabouts." + + +Alas! at Plymouth, where they arrived late that night, no news of the +missing one awaited them. Mrs. Basket, her face white as a sheet, +her ample body swathed in a red flannel dressing-gown, herself opened +the door to the travellers as soon as the chaise drew up. For hours +she had been expecting it, listening for the sounds of wheels. +Almost before the introductions were over she announced with tears +that she had nothing to tell. + +For a while she turned her thoughts perforce from the disaster to the +business of making ready the bedrooms for her guests and preparing a +light supper. But the meal had not been in progress five minutes, +before, in the act of loading Miss Marty's plate, she sat back with a +gasp. + +"Oh, and I was forgetting! Misfortunes, they say, never come singly, +and--would you believe it, my dear?--as I was walking in the garden +this afternoon, thinking to calm my poor brain, I happened to look at +the fish-pond and what do I see there but two of the gold-fish +floating with their chests uppermost!" + +"Chests, madam?" queried Dr. Hansombody. + +But sharp as his query was came a cry from Mr. Basket. +"The fish-pond?" He thrust back his chair, a terrible surmise +dawning in his eyes. "And the fish, you say, floating--" + +"Chest uppermost," repeated Mrs. Basket, "and dead as dead." + +"She _means_, on their backs," her husband explained parenthetically; +"a fashion de parlour, as the French would say. Did you examine the +pond? Heavens, Maria! did you examine the pond?" + +"Elihu, you make my flesh creep! Why should I examine the pond? +You don't mean to tell me--" + +"My shrimping-net! Don't sit shivering there, Maria, but bring me my +shrimping-net! And a lantern!" Mr. Basket caught up a +Sheffield-plated candle-sconce from the table, motioned the Doctor to +fetch along its fellow, and led the way out to the front garden. + +The night outside was windless, but dark as the inside of a hat. + +Their candles drew a dewy glimmer from the congregated statuary: +apparitions so ghostly that the Doctor scarcely repressed a cry of +terror. Mr. Basket advanced to the pond and set down his light on +the brink. + +"A foot deep . . . only a foot deep," he murmured. "It could not +possibly cover him." + +The two goldfish floated as Mrs. Basket had described them. +Mr. Basket, taking the shrimping-net from his wife, who shrank back +at once into darkness, plunged it beneath the water, deep into the +mud. Dr. Hansombody held a sconce aloft to guide him. + +The two ladies cowered behind a pedestal supporting the Farnese +Hercules. + +For a while nothing was heard in the garden but the splash of water +as Mr. Basket plunged his net again and again and drew it forth +dripping. Each time as he drew it to shore, he emptied the mud on +the brink and bent over it, the Doctor holding a candle close to +assist the inspection. + +As he emptied his net for maybe the twentieth time, something jingled +on the pebbles. Mr. Basket stooped swiftly, plunged his hand in the +slime, and held it up to the light. + +"Eh?" said the Doctor, peering close. "What? A latchkey?" + +"My duplicate latchkey!" In spite of the heat engendered by his +efforts, Mr. Basket's teeth chattered. "My wife gave it to him the +last thing." + +He turned and drove his net beneath the dark water with redoubled +energy. The very next haul brought to shore an even more convincing +piece of evidence--a silver snuff-box. + +It was the Major's. Mr. Basket had seen his friend use it a thousand +times; and called Miss Marty forward to identify it. Yes, undeniably +it was the Major's snuff-box, engraved with "S.H.," his initials, in +entwined italics. + +The two male searchers, regardless of their small-clothes, now +plunged knee-deep into the pond. For an hour they searched it; +searched it from end to end; searched it twice over. + +No further discovery rewarded them. + +Here was evidence--tangible evidence. Yet of what? The Major +had visited the pond during his hosts' absence at the theatre, and +had dropped these two articles into it. How, if accidentally? +If purposely, why? The mystery had become a deeper mystery. + +A little after midnight the search was abandoned. Mrs. Basket +administered hot brandy-and-water to the two gentlemen, and the +household retired to rest--but not to sleep. + +At breakfast next morning, before seeking the Chief Constable, +Mr. Basket and the Doctor compared notes. Each owned himself more +puzzled than ever. + +As it turned out, their discoveries led them straight away from the +true explanation. The Chief Constable, when they interviewed him, +was disposed for a brief while to suspect the press-gang. There had, +in fact, on the night before last, been a "hot press," as it was +called. At least a score of bodies of the Royal Marines, in parties +of twelve and fourteen, each accompanied by a marine and a naval +officer, had boarded the colliers off the new quay, the ships in +Cattewater and the Pool, and had swept the streets and gin-shops. +A gang of seamen, too, had entered the theatre and cleared the whole +gallery except the women; had even descended upon the stage and +carried off practically the whole company of actors, including the +famous Mr. Sturge. (This Mr. Basket could confirm.) The whole town +was in a ferment. He had already received at least seventy visits +from inquirers after missing relatives. + +But the discoveries in the fish-pond led him clean off the scent. +No press-gang would enter a private house or a private garden such as +Mr. Basket's. Even supposing that their friend had fallen a victim +to the press while walking the streets, they must admit it to be +inconceivable that he should return and cast a latchkey and a +snuff-box into Mr. Basket's fish-pond. + +"_Cui bono?_" asked the Chief Constable. + +"I beg your pardon?" said Mr. Basket. + +"Well, in other words, what do you suggest he did it for? It's an +expression we use in these cases." + +The Doctor granted the force of the Chief Constable's reasoning, but +suggested that there could be no harm in rowing round the Fleet and +making inquiries. + +The Chief Constable answered again that the squadron--it was no more +than a squadron--had taken precious good care to time the press for +the eve of sailing; had in fact weighed anchor in the small hours of +the morning, and by this time had probably joined Admiral +Cornwallis's fleet off Brest. + +What was to be done? + +"In my belief," said the Chief Constable, "it's a case of foul play. +Mind, I'm not accusing anyone," he went on; "but this person +disappeared from your house, Mr. Basket, and in your place I'd put +myself right with the public by getting out a handbill at once." + +This dreadful possibility of coming under public suspicion had never +occurred to Mr. Basket. He begged to be supplied at once with pen, +ink and paper. + +"'Lost, stolen or strayed'--is that how you begin?" + +"If you ask me," said the Chief Constable, "I'd put him down as +'Missing.' It's more usual." + +"'Missing,' then. 'On the night of May 2nd--'" + +"From your house." + +"Must that go in?" Mr. Basket pleaded. + +"If you want to put yourself right with the public." + +"Yes, yes--'from The Retreat, East Hoe, the residence of E. Basket, +Esq., on the night of May 2nd, between the hours of 7 and 11 p.m., a +Gentleman--'" + +Mr. Basket paused. + +"We must describe him," said the Doctor. + +"I am coming to that. 'A Gentleman, answering to the name of +Hymen--'" + +"Why 'answering'?" + +Mr. Basket ran his pen through the word. "The fact is," he +explained, "I've only written out a thing of this sort once before in +my life; and that was when Mrs. Basket missed a black-and-tan +terrier. H'm, let me see. . . . Between the hours of 7 and 11 p.m., +Solomon Hymen, Esquire, and Justice of the Peace, Major of the Troy +Volunteer Artillery. The missing gentleman was of imposing +exterior--" + +"Height five feet, three inches," said the Doctor. + +"Eh? Are you sure?" + +"As medical officer of the Troy Artillery, I keep account of every +man in the corps; height, chest measurement, waist measurement, any +peculiarity of structure, any mole, cicatrix, birth-mark and so on. +I began to take these notes at the Major's own instance, for purposes +of identification on the field of battle. Little did I dream, as I +passed the tape around my admired friend, that _his_ proportions +would ever be the subject of this melancholy curiosity!" + +"It reminds me," said Mr. Basket, "of a group in my garden entitled +_Finding the body of Harold_. Five feet three, you say? I had +better scratch out 'imposing exterior'; or, stay!--we'll alter it to +'carriage.'" + +"Chest, thirty-six inches; waist, forty-three inches; complexion-- +does that come next?" Doctor Hansombody appealed to the Chief +Constable, who nodded. + +"Complexion, features, colour of hair, of eyes . . . any order you +please." + +"We must leave out all allusion to his hair, I think," said Mr. +Basket; "and, by the way, I suppose the--er--authorities will desire +to take possession of any other little odds-and-ends our friend left +behind him? Complexion, clear and sanguine; strongly marked +features. His eye, sir, was like Mars, to threaten and command; but +I forget the precise colour at this moment. We might, perhaps, +content ourselves with 'piercing.' If I allow myself to be betrayed +into a description of his moral qualities--" + +"Unnecessary," put in the Chief Constable. + +"And yet, sir, it was by his moral qualities that my friend ever +impressed himself most distinctly on all who met him. Alas! that I +should be speaking of him in the past tense! He was a man, sir, as +Shakespeare puts it: + + "Take him for all in all, + We shall not look upon his like again." + +"A most happy description, Mr. Basket," the Doctor agreed. +"Would you mind saying it over again, that I may commit it to +memory?" + +Mr. Basket obligingly repeated it. + +"Most happy! Shakespeare, you say? Thank you." The Doctor copied +it into his pocket-book among the prescriptions. + +"One might add, perhaps," Mr. Basket submitted respectfully, "that a +mere physical description, however animated, cannot do justice to my +friend's moral grandeur, which, indeed, would require the brush of a +Michael Angelo." + +The Chief Constable inquired what reward they proposed to offer. + +"Ah, yes; to be sure!" Taken somewhat unexpectedly, Mr. Basket and +the Doctor exchanged glances. + +"On behalf of the relatives, now--" began Mr. Basket. + +"So far as I know, Miss Martha was the one relative he had in the +world," answered the Doctor. + +"So much the better, my friend, seeing that you have (as I +understand) her entire confidence." + +"I was about to suggest that--circumstances having forced you into +prominence--to take the lead, so to speak, in this unhappy affair--" + +"But why do we talk of price?" interposed Mr. Basket briskly, +"seeing that the loss, if loss it be, is nothing short of +irreparable? To my mind there is something--er--" + +"Desecrating," suggested the Doctor. + +"Quite so--desecrating--in this reduction of our poor friend to +pounds, shillings, and pence." + +"Nevertheless it is usual to name a sum," the Chief Constable assured +them. "Shall we say fifty pounds?" Mr. Basket took off his +spectacles and wiped them with a trembling hand. Dr. Hansombody +stood considering, pulling thoughtfully at his lower lip. + +"I think I can undertake," he suggested, "that the Town Council will +contribute a moiety of that sum. Something can be done by private +subscription." + +Mr. Basket brightened visibly. "Put it at fifty pounds, then," he +commanded, with a wave of the hand. "Should Providence see fit to +restore him to us, our friend, as a reasonable man, will doubtless +discharge some part of the expenses." + +Accordingly the bill was drafted, and the Chief Constable, after +running his blue pencil through some of its more monumental periods, +engaged to have it printed and distributed. + +"Do you know," confessed Mr. Basket, as he and the Doctor walked +homewards, "I felt all the while as if we were composing our friend's +epitaph. I have a presentimen--" + +"Do not utter it, my dear sir!" the Doctor entreated. + +"He was a man--" + +"Yes, yes; 'taking one thing with another, it is more than likely we +shall never see him again.' The words, sir, struck upon my spirit +like the tolling of a bell. But for Heaven's sake let us not +despair!" + +"Life is precarious, Dr. Hansombody; as your profession, if any, +should teach. We are here to-day; we are gone--in the more sudden +cases--to-morrow. What do you say, sir, to a glass of wine at the +'Benbow'? To my thinking, we should both be the better for it." + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + + +APOTHEOSIS. + +At this point my pen falters. The order of events would require us +now to travel back to Troy with Miss Marty and the Doctor and break +the news to the town. But have you the heart for it? Not I. + +I tell you that I never now pass the Ferry Slip on the shore facing +Troy, on a summer's evening when the sun slants over the hill and the +smoke of the town rises through shadow into the bright air through +which the rooks are winging homeward--I never rest on my oars to +watch the horse-boat unmooring, the women up the street filling their +pitchers at the water-shute, the strawberry-gatherers at work in +their cliff gardens; but I see again Boutigo's van descend the hill +and two passengers in black alight from it upon the shore--Miss Marty +and the Doctor, charged with their terrible message. I see them +stand on the slip and shade their eyes as they look across to the +town glassed in the evening tide, I see beneath the shade of her palm +Miss Marty's lips tremble with the words that are to shatter that +happy picture of repose, brutally, violently, as a stone crashing +into a mirror. In the ferry-boat she trembles from head to foot, +between fear and a fever to speak and have it over. . . . + +But the town would not believe. Nay, even when Town Crier Bonaday, +dropping tears into his paste-pot, affixed the placard to the door of +the Town Hall, the town would not believe. Men and women gathered at +his back, read the words stupidly, looked into each other's faces and +shook their heads. Two or three gazed skyward. + +"The Major gone? No, no . . . there must be some mistake. He would +come back--to-morrow, perhaps--and bring light and laughter back with +him. It was long since the town had enjoyed a good laugh, and here +were all the makings of a rare one." + +But the days passed and brought no tidings. + +Miss Marty had drawn down the blinds in the Major's house, in token +of mourning and to shut out prying eyes: for during the first day or +two small crowds had collected in front and hung about the garden +gate to stare pathetically up at the windows. They meant no harm: +always when Cai Tamblyn or Scipio stepped out to remonstrate, they +moved away quietly. + +They were stunned. They could not believe. + +On the third day the Town Council met and elected Dr. Hansombody +Deputy-Mayor, "during the temporary absence of one whose permanent +loss this Council for the present declines to contemplate." +That same evening the Doctor called a public meeting, and in a +careful speech, interrupted here and there by emotion, told the +burgesses all there was to tell. "My friends," he concluded, "With a +sad and sorry heart I lay these few facts, these poor shreds of +evidence, before you. Oppressed as I am by the shadow of calamity, I +refuse to consider it as more than a shadow, soon under Providence to +be lifted from us. You, the witnesses of our daily intimacy, will +understand with what emotion I take up the sceptre which has fallen +from my friend's hand, with what diffidence I shall wield it, with +what impatience I shall expect the hour which restores it to his +strong grasp. In the words of Shakespeare"--here the Doctor +consulted his note-book--"he was indeed a man:" + + "'Take him for all in all + We shall not look upon his like again.'" + +"Of my own instance, ladies and gentlemen, I made bold to bid fifty +pounds for his recovery, feeling confident that Troy would endorse +the offer. Nor did I mistake. This morning the Corporation by +unanimous vote has guaranteed the sum. I have now the melancholy +privilege of proposing from this chair that a house-to-house canvass +be made throughout the town with the object of doubling this +guarantee." (Murmurs of approval from all parts of the hall.) + +The Vicar seconded. He would remind his audience that in the +thirteenth century Richard, Earl of Cornwall, afterwards King of the +Romans, had the misfortune to fall into the hands of the Saracens who +held him at ransom: and that by the promptness with which the +Cornishmen of those days, rich and poor together, made voluntary +contribution and discharged the price, they earned their coat-of-arms +of fifteen gold coins upon a sable ground, as well as their proud +motto "One and All." It had been said (I forget if in my hearing), +that the days of chivalry were past. Here was an opportunity to +disprove it and declare that the spirit of their ancestors survived +and animated the Cornishmen of to-day. (A Voice--"How about the +Millennium?") He would pass over that interruption with the contempt +it deserved. They were not met to bandy personalities, but as +citizens united in the face of calamity by affection for their common +borough. As stars upon the night, as the gold coins on their Duchy's +sable shield, so might their free-will offerings spell hope upon the +dark ground of present desolation. He, for his part, was ready to +subscribe one guinea--yes, and more if necessary. + +Although the Chairman had deprecated cheering, the audience broke +into loud applause as the Vicar resumed his seat. The town had taken +fire. Resolving itself into Committee, the meeting then and there +nominated fifty collectors, all volunteers. Nor did the movement end +here. Under the leadership of Miss Pescod the ladies of Troy devoted +each a favourite article of personal adornment to be coined at need +into money for the Major's redemption. (I myself possess a brooch +which, left by my great-grandmother to her daughter upon this +condition, to this day is known in the family as the Major's Cameo.) +In six days the guarantee fund ran up to eleven hundred pounds, of +which at least one-third might be accounted good money. In Troy we +allow, by habit, some margin for enthusiasm. + +A new placard was issued at once, and the reward increased to one +hundred and fifty pounds. + +For ten days this handsome offer evoked no more response than the +previous one. For ten days yet all trace of the Major vanished at +the edge of Mr. Basket's fish-pond. + +"It would almost seem," said Miss Sally Tregentil, discussing the +mystery for the hundredth time with Miss Pescod, "as if from that +fatal brink he had soared into the regions of the unknown and scaled, +as the expression goes, the empyrean." + +"If that's the case," remarked Miss Pescod practically, "twice the +money won't bring him back." + +On the 2nd of July the Chief Constable wrote to Dr. Hansombody that +he had discovered a clue. A doorkeeper of the Theatre Royal reported +(and was corroborated by the man in charge of the ticket-office) that +on the night of May 2nd, at about 10.30, a rough-looking fellow had +presented himself, dripping-wet, at the doors and demanded, in a +state of agitation, apparently the result of drink, to see Mr. +Basket, who occupied a reserved seat in the house; further, that +falling in with two sailors, who bought a ticket for him, the man had +mounted the gallery stairs in their company, and this was the last +seen of him by either of the deponents. + +The Doctor posted to Plymouth, carrying with him the only extant +portrait of the Major--a miniature taken at the age of twenty-five; +called on Mr. Basket, haled him off to the Chief Constable's office, +and there by appointment examined the two witnesses. The men stuck +to their story, but swore positively that the fellow they had seen +bore no resemblance to the portrait. + +"If you ask _me_," added the doorkeeper with conviction, "he was a +dam sight more likely to have been his murderer. He looked it, +anyhow." + +The Doctor and Mr. Basket returned to the latter's house in deeper +perplexity than ever. + +"The evidence," began Mr. Basket, lighting his pipe after dinner, +"vague as it is, points more decidedly than before to foul play. +We have been assuming that our poor friend, whether by accident or +design, found himself in my fish-pond." + +"He would hardly have walked into it on purpose," said the Doctor. + +"It is at least highly improbable. Well, here we have another man +who comes running to the theatre wet through--also, we will assume, +from an immersion in the fish-pond. We will suppose that he plunged +into it to the rescue and having brought his burden safe to shore, +ran to the theatre to inform me of the accident. At once we are +confronted with half a dozen serious difficulties. To begin with, +why, having asked for me, did he disappear?" + +"Press-gang," the Doctor suggested. + +"Granted. But why, having an urgent message to deliver, did he +proceed to take a ticket for the gallery in company with two sailors, +apparently strangers to him? Again, this explanation does not even +touch the crucial question, which is--How came our friend to +disappear?" + +The Doctor shook his head. + +"On the other hand," Mr. Basket continued, "if we take the darker +view, that this man had entered the fish-pond not for purposes of +rescue, but--dreadful thought--to hold the victim under water, why +should he have exposed himself to detection by coming to the theatre? +Why, in fine, should he desire to communicate at all with me?" + +"Perhaps," suggested Mrs. Basket, who had been listening while she +knitted, "his conscience pricked him." + +"My dear Maria!" began her husband testily. But at this moment the +house rang with an alarm upon the front-door bell. + +The poor lady stood up fluttering, white in the face. + +"You must answer it, Elihu! I couldn't, not if you was to offer me +twice the reward at this moment--and him standing there, perhaps, or +his ghost, like Peter out of prison!" + +But their visitor proved to be the Chief Constable himself. He, too, +was pale with excitement, and he held in his hand a copy of the +Sherborne _Mercury_. + +"Your friend--" he began. + +"Well?" + +"He is dead. The mystery is not, indeed, explained, but the issue of +it appears too certain. I was walking along old Town Street when the +Sherborne Rider came along. He gave me my copy, and see here!"--The +Chief Constable spread the paper under the lamp and pointed to this +paragraph: + + "_Operations off Boulogne_. By advices received from Admiral + Lord Keith, the first experiment made with the new engines of + destruction (of which so much was hoped) against the vessels + moored off Boulogne pier, has not resulted in an unqualified + success. On the 15th ult. one of these catamarans, as they are + called, was launched against the foe from the _Vesuvius_ bomb. + The machinery had been set in motion, and the bomb's boat, + having towed it into range, was preparing to return to the ship, + when a shot from the shore batteries, falling close, + precipitated our gallant fellows into the water. We are happy + to add that they were all picked up by the boats of the squadron + with the exception of one seaman, recently shipped at Plymouth. + His name is given as Hymen; and the Captain of the _Vesuvius_ + reports that he joined as a volunteer. + + "We need hardly remind our readers that the name of Hymen has + figured prominently for a fortnight past in our advertisement + columns. If this gallant but unfortunate man should prove to be + none other than Solomon Hymen, Esquire, Chief Magistrate of + Troy, Cornwall, whose recent mysterious disappearance has cast a + gloom over the small borough, we commiserate our friends in the + West while envying them this exemplar of an unselfish + patriotism. _Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori_." + +Troy required no further evidence. To those of us indeed who had +known the man--who, to borrow the words of a later poet, had lived in +his mild and magnificent eye--the news carried its own verification. +Precisely how--in what circumstances--he had volunteered, we might +never elucidate: but the act itself, when we came to consider it, was +of a piece with his character. He had left us in chagrin, betrayed +by our unworthiness, nursing a wound deeper than any personal spite. +Summarily, by a stroke, in the simplicity of his greatness, he had at +once rebuked us and restored our pride. Perishing, he had left us an +imperishable boast; an example to which, though our own conscience +might accuse us, we could point, and saying "This was a Son of Troy," +silence detraction for ever. Need I add that we made the most of it? + + +Mayor-choosing Day came round, and Dr. Hansombody, elected by the +unanimous vote of his fellow-councillors, attained to one of the twin +summits of his ambition and was indued as Chief Magistrate with robe +and chain. Six weeks later the town heard, at first incredulously, +that he and Miss Marty were betrothed. The nuptials, it was +announced, would be celebrated next June, on the decent expiry of a +year of mourning. + +Miss Sally Tregentil, on hearing the news, opined the Doctor's +conduct to be quixotic--a self-immolation, almost, upon the altar of +friendship. + +Miss Pescod, for her part, believed that he was after the woman's +money. This unworthy suspicion the Doctor was fortunately able to +rebut, and in the most public manner. After the wedding (a quiet +one) he and his bride spent a short honeymoon at Sidmouth and +returned but to announce their departure on a more distant journey. +The Major's death being by this time, in legal phrase, "presumed," +the Court of Canterbury had allowed Miss Marty to take out letters of +administration. It behoved her now to travel up to London, interview +proctors, and prove the will, executed (as the reader will remember) +on the eve of that fatal First of May and confided to Lawyer Chinn's +keeping. The town having subscribed for and purchased a pair of +silver candelabra as a homecoming gift, the Mayor and Mayoress had no +sooner returned and been welcomed with firing off cannon and pealing +of bells than a day was fixed and a public meeting called for the +presentation--a ceremony performed by the Vicar in brief but +felicitous terms. The Doctor made a suitable speech of +acknowledgment, and then, after waiting until the applause had +subsided, lifted a hand. + +"My friends," he said, "before we disperse I am charged to tell you +that my wife and I contemplate another journey, and almost +immediately. You may think how sad that errand is for us when I tell +you that we go to prove the late Major Hymen's will. But I dare to +hope you will understand that our feelings are not wholly tinged with +gloom when you hear the provisions of that document, which I will now +ask my friend Mr. Chinn to read aloud to you." + +And this is the substance of what Lawyer Chinn read: + + To his kinswoman Miss Martha Hymen, the Major left a life + interest in the sum of five thousand pounds, invested in + Government stock. + + To his faithful servant Scipio Johnston the sum of one hundred + and fifty pounds. To his servant Caius Tamblyn, fifty pounds. + + To each member of the Corporation of the Borough of Troy holding + office at the time of his death, five pounds to buy a mourning + ring. + + To the Town Clerk the same, and to Mr. Jago, Town Constable, the + same. + + To the Honourable and Gallant Corps of the Troy Volunteer + Artillery, nineteen guineas, to purchase two standards, to be + borne by them on all occasions of ceremony. + + To the Vicar and Churchwardens, two hundred pounds, the interest + to be distributed annually among the poor of the Parish, on + Easter Day. + + To the Feoffees and Governors of the Free Grammar School, a like + sum to be spent in renovating the building, and a further sum of + one thousand pounds to be invested for the maintenance, clothing + and education of ten poor boys of the Borough. + + To the Vicar and Dr. Hansombody, his executors, fifty pounds + apiece. + + And lastly, the residue of his estate (some four thousand + pounds), together with the five thousand pounds reverting on his + kinswoman's death, to the Mayor and Corporation, to build and + endow a Hospital for the relief of the sick; the same to be + known as the Hymen Hospital, 'in the hope that the name of one + who left no heirs may yet be preserved a while by the continuity + of human suffering.' + +At the conclusion of Lawyer Chinn's reading it is not too much to say +that all his audience caught their breaths. They had known the Major +to be a great man: but not till now--not perhaps until that last +solemn sentence fell on their ears--had they understood his +greatness. + +I have heard that the silence which followed was broken by a sob. +Certainly the meeting dispersed in choking silence. + +At length Troy realised its loss. + +From that moment the figure, hitherto remembered in the clear +outlines of affection, begun to grow, loom, expand, in the mists of +awe. It ceased to be familiar, having put on greatness. Men began +to tell how, on that last fatal expedition, the Major had turned +single-handed and held a whole squadron of Dragoons at bay. + +In his garden, by the brink of the fish-pond, Mr. Basket reared a +stone with the following inscription: + + ATTEND + O PASSER BY! + ON THIS + SPOT AS NEARLY AS CAN BE ASCERTAINED + SOLOMON HYMEN, ESQUIRE + SEVEN TIMES MAYOR OF TROY + IN CORNWALL + RELINQUISHED HIS HONOURS + FOR HIS COUNTRY'S NEED + AND RESOLUTELY SACRIFICED + EASE, FRIENDSHIP, FAME + TO EMBARK HIS SOLE MANHOOD + IN HER DEFENCE + AMID THE SURROUNDING MEMORIALS + OF GREECE AND ROME + CHALLENGING + THE SEVEREST VIRTUES OF ANTIQUITY + WITH A BRITON'S RESOLUTION + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + + +THE RETURN. + +There lies before me a copy of _The Plymouth and Dock Telegraph_, +dated Saturday, July 2nd, 1814, much tattered and broken along the +creases into which my great-grandmother (the same that left us the +Major's Cameo) folded it these many years ago, to be laid away for a +memorial. + +The advertisements need not detain us long. Two husbands will not be +responsible for their wives' debts, and one of them alleges that his +lady "has behaved herself improperly during my absence at sea." +A solicitor will lend 1000 pounds on good security. A medical man, +yielding to the persuasions of numerous friends, will remain another +fortnight in the town; and may be consulted as usual at Mr. Kitt's, +Grocer, King Street, Dock, every Tuesday and Saturday from ten to +six. M. La Barre (whom I guess to have been a Royalist refugee) will +reopen instruction for young ladies and gentlemen in the French +language on the 12th inst. The tolls and profits of the Saltash and +the Ashburton turnpikes will be bidden for by public auction. +The schooner _Brothers_ and the fast-sailing cutter _Gambier_ are for +sale, together with the model of a frigate, "about six feet two +inches long, copper-bottomed, and mounted with thirty-two guns." +The Royal Auxiliary Mail will start from Congdon's Commercial Inn +every afternoon at a quarter before five, reaching the "Bell and +Crown," Holborn, in thirty-six hours: passengers for London have a +further choice of the "Devonshire" (running through Bristol) or the +"Royal Clarence" (through Salisbury). Two rival light coaches +compete for passengers to Portsmouth. The "Self-Defence," Plymouth +to Falmouth, four insides, will keep the same time as His Majesty's +Mail. The Unitarian Association advertises a meeting at which Dr. +Toulmin of Birmingham will preach. The Friends of the Abolition of +the Slave Trade print a long manifesto. The Phoenix, Eagle and Atlas +Companies invite insurers. Sufferers from various disorders will +find relief in Spilsbury's Patent Antiscorbutic, Dr. Bateman's +Pectoral, and Wessel's Jesuit's Drops. + +Turning to the news columns, we find the whole country aflame with +joy at the restoration of Peace. Once again (it is ten years since +we last saw him there) the Prince Regent is at Portsmouth, feasting, +speech-making, dancing, reviewing the fleet and the troops. With him +are the Emperor of Russia; the Emperor's sister, the Duchess of +Oldenburg; the King of Prussia; the Royal Dukes of Clarence, York, +Cambridge; the Duke of Wellington and Field-Marshal Blucher. We read +that on first catching sight of Wellington the Prince Regent "seized +his hand and appeared lost in sensibility for the moment." As for +Blucher, a party of sailors, defying his escort of dragoons, boarded +and "took possession of the quarter-deck, or, in other words, the top +of the carriage." + + "Some were capsized; but two of them swore to defend the brave, + and, as the carriage drew on, to the delight of all the tars + commenced reels _a la Saunders_ on the top, all the way to + Government House, where the General was received with open hands + and hearts, amid a group of as brave warriors as ever graced a + festive table or bled in defence of their country's wrongs + (_sic_)." + +At the subsequent Ball: + + "The Duke did not dance: and the gallant Blucher was so overcome + by the heat of the ballroom as to oblige him to retire for a + short time. . . . The two gallant Generals rode from the + Government House in the same carriage; and it was observed that + the Emperor of Russia shook hands with the illustrious + Wellington every time he was near him." + +From Portsmouth next day the Duke posts up to Westminster, to be +introduced by the Dukes of Richmond and Beaufort and take his seat in +the Lords under his new patents of nobility. Simultaneously in the +Commons, Lord Castlereagh moves a Vote of Thanks, which is carried by +a unanimous House. For the rest, Parliament is mainly occupied in +discussing Lord Cochrane's case and the sorrows of Her Royal Highness +the Princess of Wales, especially "the inadequacy of her income to +support the ordinary dignities of her rank, and afford her those +consolations which the unfortunate state of her domestic feelings +require." Mr. Wilberforce delivers a most animated speech against +the Slave Trade. It is rumoured that Princess Charlotte of Wales +has definitely refused the hand of the Prince of Orange, and that +the rejected lover has left London, full of grief, in his +carriage-and-four. + +In short, our Major has been lost to us for ten full years, and still +the world goes on: nay, for the moment it is going on excitedly. +The procession with which the officers and artificers of Plymouth +Dockyard yesterday celebrated the establishment of Peace alone +occupies five columns of the paper. + +What, then, of Troy? Ah, my friends, never doubt that Troy did its +part, and, what is more, was beforehand as usual! + + REJOICINGS AT TROY + + "In consequence of the re-establishment of Peace, the inhabitants + of Troy were at an early hour on _Monday_, June 13th, busily + employed in decorating their houses with laurel, etc., and + forming arches in the streets, variegated with flowers and + emblematical representations; and thirty-eight well-formed + arches soon graced the joyful town. . . ." + +Thirty-eight arches! Consider it, you provincial towns of twice, +thrice, ten times Troy's size, who erected a beggarly five or six on +Queen Victoria's last Jubilee, and doubtless plumed yourselves on +your exuberant loyalty! + + ". . . To regale the poor, a bullock, two sheep (each weighing a + hundred pounds), eight hundred twopenny loaves, with a + great quantity of beer and porter, the gift of Sir Felix + Felix-Williams, were distributed in the Market House and + Town Hall by the Mayor (Dr. Hansombody) and gentlemen. + Every individual appeared happy: indeed it was highly gratifying + to see so many people with joy painted on their countenances + showing forth the delight of their hearts. To crown the day, a + number of respectable citizens drank tea with the Mayoress, + after which they adjourned to the Town Hall and commenced + dancing, which was kept up for a long time with great spirit and + regularity. + + "_Tuesday_ morning was ushered in with ringing of bells, etc., + and a great number of people assembled before the 'Ship' Inn to + dance, during which the ladies were engaged in ornamenting, with + flowers, flags and emblems, two boats placed on wheel sledges + drawn by the populace. In fitting them up with such taste and + elegance, Miss P--d and Miss S. T--l were particularly active + and deserve every praise. At three o'clock the Mayor and a + respectable company sat down to an excellent dinner at the + 'Ship' Inn, the band playing many grand national tunes in an + adjoining room. After the repast signals were given from the + Town Quay for the Battery guns to fire, and they accordingly + fired three royal salutes in compliment to the Allied + Sovereigns. The boats before mentioned were soon ready to + start, the former filled by ladies with garlands and other + emblems of Peace in their hands, and the latter with musicians; + but previous to their removal Lord Wellington and some Cossacks + appeared on horseback in search of Bonaparte, who according to + his late practice had taken flight. However, he was soon driven + back and taken, being met by a miller, who jumped up behind him + and, observing his dejected and mournful countenance, embraced + him with all the seeming fondness of a parent, desiring him to + rouse up his spirits, if possible, to preserve his life. + The grand procession of boats now began by a slow but graceful + movement of the first, in the bow of which was a dove with + outspread wings, holding an olive branch in her mouth. + The boats were followed by a great concourse of people through + the streets, and on their return were met by many gentlemen with + wine, etc. This day, like the preceding, ended with a merry + dance in the Town Hall. + + "_Wednesday's_ rejoicings opened at noon with a dinner at the + 'King of Prussia,' attended by the survivors of the disbanded + Troy Volunteer Artillery, attired in the uniforms of that + ever-famous corps. The sight of the old regimentals evoked the + tears of sensibility from more than one eye which had never + flinched before the prospect of actual warfare. After the meal, + at which many a veteran 'told his battles o'er again,' a number + of toasts were proposed by the Mayor, including 'The Allied + Sovereigns,' 'The Prince Regent,'' The Duke of Wellington' + (with three times three), 'The Troy Gallants,' 'The Memory of + their first beloved Commander, Major Hymen'--this last being + drunk in silence. The company then dispersed, to reassemble + below the Town Quay, where the boats which had adorned Monday's + festivities were again launched, this time upon their native + element, and proceeded, amid the clanging of joy-bells from the + church tower, to cross the harbour, on the farther shores of + which a large and enthusiastic crowd awaited them. In the first + boat were the musicians; in the second a number of ladies and + gentlemen in fancy costumes. A score of boats followed, filled + with spectators; and were welcomed, as they reached the shore, + with loud expressions of joy. Lord Wellington was again mounted + on horseback, with General Platoff and some Cossacks. + Bonaparte and his followers were also mounted, and some + skirmishes took place of so lifelike a character as to evoke + universal plaudits. . . ." + +A wooden-legged man, who had been stumping it for many hours along +the high road from Plymouth, paused on the knap of the hill, mopped +his dusty brow, and gazed down upon the harbour, shading his eyes. +He wore a short blue jacket with tattered white facings, a pair of +white linen trousers patched at the knees, a round tarpaulin hat, a +burst shoe upon his hale foot, and carried a japanned knapsack--all +powdered with white dust of the road in which his wooden leg had been +prodding small round holes for mile after mile. + +He had halted first as his ear caught the merry chime of bells from +the opposite shore. Having mopped his brow, he moved forward and +halted again by a granite cross and drinking-trough whence the road +led steeply downhill between the first houses of the village. He was +visibly agitated. His hand trembled on his stick: his face flushed +hotly beneath its mask of dust and sweat, and upon the flush a +cicatrix--the mark of a healed bullet-wound--showed up for the moment +on his left cheek, white as if branded there. + +The people were shouting below, cheering vociferously. Yes, and +along the harbour every vessel, down to the smallest sailing-boat, +was bedecked with bunting from bowsprit-end to taffrail. The bells +rang on like mad. The bells. . . . He dropped the hand which had +been shading his eyes, let dip his frayed cuff in the water of the +fountain and, removing his hat, dabbed his bald head. This--had he +known it--worsened the smears of dust. But he was not thinking of +his appearance. + +He was thinking--had been thinking all the way from Plymouth--only of +the harbour at his feet, and the town beyond. His eyes rested on +them again, after ten years. All the way his heart had promised him +nothing but this. He had forgotten self; having in ten years, and +painfully, learnt that lesson. + +But the music of the bells, the distant sounds of cheering, recalled +that forgotten self; or perhaps it leapt into assertiveness again +unwittingly, by association of ideas with the old familiar scene. +He had left the people cheering. . . . Was it ten years ago? +They were cheering still. . . . + +The road within view was deserted. But from below the dip of the +hill the cheers ascended, louder and louder yet, deepening in volume. + +He had intended to walk down the hill--as he hoped, unrecognised-- +cross the ferry, and traverse the streets of Troy to his own front +door; then, or later, to announce himself. A thousand times in his +far prison in Briancon among the high Alps he had pictured it. +He had discounted all possibilities of change. In ten years, to be +sure, much may happen. . . . + +But here below him lay the harbour and the town, save for these +evidences of joy surprisingly unchanged. + +Why were the church bells ringing; the people shouting? Could word +have been carried to them? He could not conceive how the news had +managed to outstrip him. + +He had left the people cheering; they were cheering still. . . . Were +these ten years, then, but a grotesque and hideous dream? He gazed +down upon his wooden leg, stiffly protruding before him and pointing, +as it were ironically, at the scene of which it shared no memories. + +A moment later he lifted his head at the sound of hoofs galloping up +the road towards him. Round the corner, on a shaggy yellow horse +almost _ventre-a-terre_, came a little man in a cocked hat, who rose +in his stirrups drunkenly and blew a kiss to a dozen armed pursuers +pounding at his heels. + +Between wonder and alarm, the Major (you have guessed it was he) +sprang up from his seat by the fountain. Fatal movement! At the +sudden apparition the yellow horse shied violently, swerving more +than halfway across the road; and its rider, looking backwards and +taken at unawares, was shot out of his stirrups and flung +shoulders-over-head in the dust, where he rolled sideways and lay +still. His pursuers reined up with loud outcries of dismay. +The Major advanced to the body, knelt beside it and turned it over. +The man was bleeding from a cut in the head; but this and a slight +concussion of the brain appeared to be the extent of his injuries. +His neck-cloth being loosened, he groaned heavily. The Major looked +up. + +"A nasty shock! For the moment I was half afraid--" + +The words died away on his lips. One or two of the riders had +alighted and all stood, or sat their horses, around him in a ring. +He knew their faces, their names; yes, one and all he knew them; and +they wore the uniform of the Troy Volunteer Artillery! + +With a tightly beating heart he waited for their recognition. . . . +No sign of recognition came. They eyed him curiously. It seemed to +them that he spoke with something of a foreign accent. To be sure he +articulated oddly--owing to his wound, of which his cheek bore the +visible scar. + +He knew them all. Had they not, each one of them, aforetime saluted +him their commander, raising their hand to the peaks of these very +shakos? Had they not marched, doubled, halted, presented arms, stood +at attention, all as he bade them? He recognised the victim of the +accident, too--a little tailor, Tadd by name, who in old days had +borne a reputation for hard drinking. + +"I reckon they must ha' stationed you here for a relay," suggested +Gunner Sobey (ever the readiest man, no matter in what company he +found himself) after eyeing the Major for a while. + +"I beg your pardon?" + +"I beg _yours_. Seemin' to me I've seen your features before, +somewhere, though I can't call up your name." It is a point of +honour with the men of Troy (I may here observe) to profess an +ignorance of their less-favoured neighbours across the harbour. +"I can't call up your name for the moment, dressed as you be--but +'twas thoughtful of 'em, knowing Tadd's habit, to post up a second +figger for a relay. The man seems to be shaken considerable," he +went on. "'Twould be a cruelty, as you might say, to ask him to go +on playin' Boney, with a wife and family dependent and his heart not +in it." + +"He certainly isn't fit to mount again, if that is what you mean," +said the Major, and glanced up the road where one of the troop +(Bugler Opie) had ridden in pursuit of the yellow horse and now +reappeared leading back the captive by the bridle. + +"That's just what I'm saying," agreed Gunner Sobey; "and +you'll do very well if you change hats." He stooped and picked +Tadd-Bonaparte's _tricorne_ out of the dust and brushed it with the +sleeve of his tunic. "Here, let's see how you look in it." +He flipped off the Major's tarpaulin hat, clapped on the substitute, +and fell back admiringly. "The Ogre to the life," he exclaimed; "and +_with_ a wooden leg! Hurroo, boys!" + +Before the Major could expostulate a dozen hands had lifted him into +the saddle astride the yellow horse. + +"But--but I don't know in the least, my friends, what you intend! +I cannot ride; indeed I cannot!" + +"_With_ a wooden leg! The idea!" answered Gunner Sobey, cheerfully. +"Never you mind, but catch hold o' the pommel. We'll see to the +rest." + +The riders closed in and walked him forward down the hill, Gunner +Sobey pressing close and supporting him, holding his wooden leg tight +against the saddle-flap. The Major cast a wild look about him and +saw Bugler Opie and another Gallant (Gunner Warboys--he knew all +their names) lifting the half-unconscious Tadd and bearing him +towards the fountain, to revive him. What was happening? Should he +declare himself, here and now? + +The company broke into cheers as they set their horses in motion. +Had they indeed recognised him? The procession was assuredly a +triumph, of some sort or another. But what did they intend? + +From across the harbour the bells of Troy were ringing madly. + +The Major shut his teeth. If this were indeed the town's fashion of +welcoming him, well and good! If it were a mistake--a practical joke +(but why should it be either?)--he had not long to wait for his +revenge. . . . + +Let _The Plymouth and Dock Telegraph_ narrate, in its own succinct +language, what followed: + + "The Corsican tyrant coming to grief in an attempt to elude the + righteous wrath of his pursuers, another impersonator was + speedily found, with the additional touch of a wooden leg, which + was generally voted to be artistic. This new Boney on being + conveyed down to the water's edge was driven into a boat, his + countenance eliciting laugher by its almost comic display of the + remorse of fallen ambition. A pair of his _soi-disant_ + supporters leapt in and affected to aid his escape, and were + followed by pursuing boats in every direction, which had a most + pleasing effect. At length, being hemmed in and made captive, + he was taken to an island near the shore, supported by two + officers of the Troy Volunteers, who affixed a board over him, + upon which was printed, in large letters, 'ELBA.' We regret to + say that in his vivacious efforts to reproduce the feelings of + the fallen tyrant, the impersonator--who by latest accounts is a + seaman recently paid off and impressed, almost at a moment's + notice, for the _role_ he sustained with such impromptu + spirit--slipped on the wet seaweed and sustained a somewhat + serious injury of the hip. Being with all expedition rescued, + he was conveyed ashore to the Infirmary, which, founded by the + late Major Hymen as a War Hospital, henceforward will open its + doors to those diseases and casualties from which even Peace + cannot exempt our poor humanity. By latest advices the invalid + is well on his way to recovery. In the evening there was a + grand display of fireworks on the Town Quay, conducted by the + Magistrates, to whom every praise is due for their efforts to + promote conviviality and order." + + + +CHAPTER XX. + + +IN WHICH THE MAJOR LEARNS THAT NO MAN IS NECESSARY. + +For six days Troy continued to rejoice, winding up each day with a +dance. We will content ourselves, however, with one last extract +from _The Plymouth and Dock Telegraph_: + + "At noon on Thursday the town assembled again and escorted its + Mayor and Mayoress to the Hymen Hospital, where, in the presence + of a distinguished company, Mrs. Hansombody (ward and heiress of + the late S. Hymen) unveiled a bust of her gallant kinsman, whose + premature heroic death Troy has never ceased to lament. + Sir Felix Felix-Williams made eulogistic reference to the + deceased, remarking on the number of instances by which the late + war had confirmed the truth of the Roman poet's observation that + it is pleasant and seemly to die for one's country. The Mayor + responded on behalf of his amiable lady, whom Sir Felix's + tribute had visibly affected. The sculpture was pronounced to + be a lifelike image, reflecting great credit on the artist, + Mr. Tipping, R.A. The pedestal, five feet in height, is of + polished black Luxulyan granite, and bears name and date with + the words 'Take Him for All in All We shall not Look upon his + Like again.' The bust, executed in plaster of Paris, will be + replaced by marble when funds allow. The crowd dispersed in + silence after the ceremony. Dancing in the street followed at + 6 p.m., and was kept up with spirit for some hours, during which + a large quantity of beer was given away." + +The Major lay in the next room--the casualty ward--and stared up at +the whitewashed ceiling. + +His whole being ached as though, mind and body, he had been set +upon and beaten senseless with bladders. And this was the second +time! Yes--good heavens, how had he deserved it?--the second time! +He remembered, after the disaster off Boulogne--many days after-- +awaking to consciousness in his prison bed in the fortress of Givet. +Then, as now, he had lain staring, his whole soul sickened by the +cruel jar of the jest. Hand of fate, was it? Nay, a jocose and +blundering finger, rather, that had flipped him, as a man might flip +a beetle, into the night. Then, as now, his soul had welled up in +sullen indignation. He blamed no one; for in all the stupid chapter +of accidents there was no one to blame. But when the Protestant +chaplain in Givet came to his bed he turned his face to the wall. + +He refused to give his name. He did not understand this blind +malevolence of fate, but he would make no terms with it. He--Solomon +Hymen--had a will of his own and a proper pride. If the world chose +to use him so, after all his services to mankind, let it go and be +damned to it. I tell you, the man had courage. + +If his friends at home valued him, let them seek him out. He had +given them cause enough for gratitude. If not, he asked nothing of +them. In the prison he gave his name as Mr. Solomon. + +Yet he had made two attempts to escape. In the first he ran away +with two comrades as far as Mezieres. Being pursued by the +_gens-d'armes_ there, and called upon to surrender, his companions +had given themselves up. Not so our hero; nor was he secured until +he lay unconscious with a bullet-hole in the cheek. It was this +which ever afterwards affected his speech, the bullet having cut or +partially paralysed some string of the tongue. + +It had been touch-and-go with him; but he recovered, and, passing +henceforward as a desperate character, was drafted south with a dozen +other desperate characters to the gloomy fortress of Briancon. +There, in a second attempt for liberty, a fall from the ramparts had +cost him his leg. + +But worse than all his incarceration had been the final tramp through +France--right away north to Valenciennes; then left-about-turn, three +hundred and fifty miles to Tours; then south-east to Riou; and from +Riou south-west to Bordeaux, where the transport took him off--one of +six transports for about fifteen hundred released prisoners. All the +way, too, on a wooden leg! Heaven knows how bitterly he had come to +hate that leg. Yet his heart, hardened though it was by all this +long adversity, had melted as the _Romney_ transport beat up closer +and closer for England, and at sight of Plymouth heights he had +broken into tears. + +Troy! Troy! After all, Troy would remember him. Though he knew it +brought him nearer to freedom, all that marching through France had +been a weariness eating into his soul. Now a free man, along the +road from Plymouth to Troy he had almost skipped. + +And this had been his homecoming! + +They remembered him. Beyond all his hopes they remembered him. +In their memory he had grown into a Homeric man, a demi-god. He had +only to declare himself. . . . + +The Major lay on his hospital bed and stared at the ceiling. It was +all very well, but ten years had made a difference--a mighty +difference; a difference which beat all his calculations. It was a +double difference, too; for all the while that he had been shrinking +in self-knowledge, his reputation at home had been expanding like a +cucumber. + +Good Lord! How could he live up to it now? To obey his impulses and +declare himself was simple enough, perhaps; but afterwards-- + + +He had nearly betrayed himself when Cai Tamblyn--in a queer +straight-cut frock-coat of livery, blue with brass buttons, but +otherwise looking much the same as ever--thrust his head in at the +door. + +In the first shock of astonishment the Major had almost cried out on +him by name. + +"Why--eh?--what are _you_ doing here?" he stammered. Hitherto he had +been waited on by a strange doctor (Hansombody's new partner) and a +nurse whom he had assisted twelve years ago, when she was left a +widow, to set up as a midwife. + +"Might ask the same question of you," said Cai Tamblyn. "I'm the +kew-rator, havin' been Hymen's servant in the old days, and shows +around the visitors, besides dustin' the mementoes--locks of his +bloomin' 'air and the rest of the trash, I looked in to see how you +was a-gettin' on after the palaver. If I'm not wanted I'll go." + +"Don't go." + +"Very well, then, I won't." Mr. Tamblyn took a seat on the edge of an +unoccupied bed, drew from his pocket a knife and a screw of pig-tail +tobacco, sliced off a portion and rubbed it meditatively between his +hands. "I done you a good turn just now," he continued. "Some o' +the company--the womenkind especially--wanted to come in and make a +fuss over you before leavin'." + +"Why should they want to make a fuss over me?" + +"Well you may ask," said Mr. Tamblyn, candidly. "'Tain't a question +of looks, though. There's a kind of female--an' 'tis the commonest +kind, too--can't hear of a man bein' hurt an' put to bed but she +wants to see for herself. 'Tis like the game a female child plays +with a dollies' house. Here they've got a nice little orspital to +amuse 'em, with nice clean blankets an' sheets, an' texteses 'pon the +walls, an' a cupboard full o' real medicines an' splints, and along +comes a real live patient to be put to bed, an' the thing's complete. +Hows'ever, they didn' get no fun out of 'ee to-day, for I told 'em +you was sleepin' peaceful an' not to be disturbed." + +"Thank you." Under pretence of settling down more comfortably +against the pillow, the Major turned his head aside. "Then it seems +you knew this--this--" + +"Hymen? Knew him intimate." + +"What--what sort of man was he?" + +Cai Tamblyn transferred the shreds of tobacco to a pouch made of +pig's bladder, pocketed it, and rubbed his two palms together, +chuckling softly. + +"Look here, I'll show you the bust of 'en if you like; that is"--he +checked himself and added dubiously--"if you're sure it won't excite +you." + +"Excite me?" + +"Sure it won't give you a relapse or something o' the sort? +The woman Snell has stepped down to the Mayor's to wash up after the +light refreshments, and I'm in charge. Prettily she'll blow me up if +she comes back an' finds I've been an' gone an' excited you." +He cleared a space on the wash-stand. "I've no business to be in +here at all, really, talkin' wi' the pashent; but damme, you can't +think what 'tis like, sittin' by yourself in a museum. I wish +sometimes they'd take an' stuff me!" + +He hobbled out and returned grunting under the weight of the bust, +which he set down upon the wash-stand, turning it so that the Major +might have a full view of its features. + +"There!" he exclaimed, drawing back and panting a little. + +"Good heavens!" The Major drew the bed-clothes hurriedly up to his +chin. "Was he--was he like _that_?" + +"I thank the Lord he was not," Mr. Tamblyn answered, slowly and +piously. "Leavin' out the question o' colour and the material, which +is plaster pallis and terrible crips, and the shortage, which is no +more than the head an' henge of 'en, so to speak, 'tis no more like +the man than _you_ be. And I say again that I thank the Lord for it. +For to have the old feller stuck up in the corner an' glazin' at me +nat'rel as life every time I turned my head would be more than nerves +could stand." + +"You wouldn't wish him back, then, in the flesh?" + +Cai Tamblyn turned around smartly and gazed at the patient, whose +face, however, rested in shadow. + +"Look 'ee here. You've a-been in a French war prison, I hear, but +that's no excuse for talkin' irreligious. The man was blowed to +pieces, I tell you, by a thing called a catamaran, off the coast o' +France; not so much left of 'en as would cover a half-crown piece. +And you ask me if I want 'en back in the flesh!" + +"But suppose that should turn out to be a mistake?" muttered the +Major. + +"Hey?" Cai Tamblyn gave a start. "Oh, I see; you're just puttin' it +so for the sake of argyment. Well, then,"--the old man turned his +quid deliberately--"did you ever hear tell what old Sammy Mennear +said when his wife died an' left him a widow-man? 'I wouldn' ha' lost +my dear Sarah for a hundred pound,' said he; 'an' I dunno as I'd have +her back for five hundred.' That's about the size o't with Hymen, I +reckon--though, mind you, I bear en no grudge. He left me fifty +pound by will, and a hundred an' fifty to a heathen nigger; and how +that can be reconciled with Christian principle I leave you to +answer. But I bear 'en no grudge." + +"What? They proved his will?" The Major stared at his portrait and +shivered. + +"_In_ course they did. The man was blowed to pieces, I tell you. +'Tis written up on the pedestal. 'Take 'en for all in all'--or piece +by piece, they might ha' said, for that matter--'we shall not look +upon his like agen.' No, nor they don't want to, for all their +speechifyin'. I ain't what the parson calls a _pessimist_; I thinks +poorly o' most things, that's all; _and_ folks; and I say they don't +want to. Why, one way and another, he left close on twelve thousand +pound!" + +The Major drew the bed-clothes maybe an inch farther over his chin +and so lay still, answering nothing, his eyes fastened on the bust. +Beneath its hyacinthine curls it beamed on him with a fixed +benevolent smile. + +"Not that Hymen hadn't decent qualities, mind you," Cai Tamblyn +continued. "The fellow was plucky, and well-meanin', too, in his +way; and a better master you wouldn't find in a day's march. What he +suffered from was wind in his stomach. With all the women settin' +their caps at him he couldn't help it: but so 'twas. And the men +were a'most as bad. Just you hearken to this--" + +Cai seated himself on the edge of the bed again, felt in his +breast-pocket and drew out a spectacle-case and a folded pocket-book; +adjusted the spectacles on his nose, slapped the pocket-book +viciously, spread it on his knee, cleared his throat, and began to +read: + + "'As a boy he was studious in his habits, shy in company, + unflinchingly truthful, and fond of animals. For obvious + reasons these pets of his childhood are unrepresented among the + memorials so piously preserved in the Hymen Museum; but through + the kindness of our esteemed townswoman, Mrs. (or, as she is + commonly called, 'Mother') Hancock, aged ninety-one, we are able + to include in our collection a marble of the kind known as + 'glass-alley,' with which she avers that, at the age of ten or + thereabouts, our future hero disported himself. It must have + been by some premonition that the venerable lady cherished it, + having received it originally, as she remembers, in barter for a + pennyworth of saffron cake, a species of delicacy to which the + youthful Solomon was pardonably addicted. . . .' + +"I got to show that damned glass-alley," interjected Mr. Tamblyn. +"Why? Because a man past work can't stay his belly on the interest +o' fifty pound. Oh, but there's more about it: + + "'The cobble-stones with which the streets of Troy are paved do + not lend themselves readily to expertness in shooting with + marbles. But the subject of this memoir was ever one who, + adapting himself to difficulties, rose superior to them. + The glass material of which the relic is composed shows numerous + indentations in its spherical outline, eloquent testimony to the + character which had already begun to learn the lesson of + greatness and by perseverance to bend circumstances to its will. + In the case containing this relic, and beside it, reposes a + horn-book, used for many generations in the Troy Infant School, + conducted A.D. 1739-1782 by Miss Sleeman, schoolmistress. + Although we have no positive evidence, there is every reason to + believe that the youthful Solomon--' + +"Ain't it enough to make a man sick?" demanded Cai Tamblyn, looking +up. "And I got to speak this truck, day in an' day out." + +"Who wrote it?" + +"Hansombody. Oh, I ain't denyin' he was well paid. But when I see'd +Miss Marty this very afternoon, unwrappin' the bust with tears in her +eyes, an' her husband standin' by as modest as Moll at a christenin', +and him the richer by thousands--" + +"WHAT?" + +The Major, despite his hurt, had risen on his elbow. Cai Tamblyn, +too, bounced up. + +"The Mayor, I'm talkin' of--Dr. Hansombody," he stammered, gating +into the invalid's face in dismay. + +So, for ten slow seconds or so, they eyed one another. Speech began +to work in Cai Tamblyn's throat, but none came. He cast one +bewildered, incredulous, horror-stricken glance back from the face on +the bed to the fatuously smiling face on the washhand stand, and with +that--for the Major had picked up his pillow and was poising to hurl +it--flung his person between them, cast both arms about the bust, +lifted it, and tottered from the room. + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + + +FACES IN WATER. + +"Eh? Wants to get up, does he?" + +Dr. Hansombody during the last year or two had gradually withdrawn +himself from professional cares, relinquishing them to his young and +energetic assistant, Mr. Olver. Magisterial and other public +business claimed more and more of the time he more and more +grudgingly spared from domestic felicity and the business of +rearranging his entomological cabinet. He had found himself, early +in his third term of mayoral office, the father of a bouncing boy. +A silver cradle, the gift of the borough, decorated his sideboard. +As for the moths and butterflies, he designed to bequeath them, under +the title of "The Hansombody Collection," to the town. They would +find a last resting-place in the Hymen Museum, and so his name would +go down to posterity linked with that of his distinguished friend. +This was the first visit he had paid to the stranger's bedside; and +even now he had only stepped in, at his assistant's request, from the +next room, where for half an hour he had been engaged with Cai +Tamblyn in choosing a position for the first case of butterflies. + +"Wants to get up, does he?" asked the Doctor absently, after a +perfunctory look at the patient. "Restless, eh?" He still carried in +his hand the two-foot rule with which he had been taking +measurements. "You've tried a change of diet?" + +"I fancy," Mr. Olver suggested, "he is worried by the number of +visitors--ladies especially." + +"Georgiana Pescod has been worrying?" + +The patient lifted his right hand from the bed and spread out all its +fingers; lifted his left, and spread out three more. + +"What? Eight visits?" + +"And that's not the worst of it," put in the Nurse, Mrs. Snell, +sympathetically, smoothing the coverlet. "First and last there's +been forty-two in these six days. It can't be for his looks, as I +tell en; and his name bein' Solomon won't account for the whole of +it." + +"I sometimes think," said the Doctor pensively and with entire +gravity, turning to his assistant, "we shall have to diminish the +numbers of the Visiting Committee. My dear friend Hymen planned it, +in years gone by, on a war footing; and even so I remember suggesting +to him at the time that the scale was somewhat--er--grandiose. +But it was characteristic of him, and we have clung to it for that +reason, in a spirit perhaps _too_ piously conservative. Forty-two +ladies! My good fellow"--he turned to the patient--"I really think-- +if your leg is equal to it--a short stroll in the fresh air may be +permitted. Pray do not think we desire to hurry your cure. +Even setting aside the dictates of charity, and our natural +tenderness towards one who, as I understand, has bled for our common +country, we owe you something"--the Major's fingers plucked nervously +at the bed-clothes--"some reparation," the Doctor went on, "for +the--er--character of your reception. In short, I hope, on your +complete recovery, to find you some steady employment, such as too +many of our returning heroes are at this moment seeking in vain. +In the meanwhile our town has some lions which may amuse your +convalescence--a figurative term, meaning objects of interest." + +Once or twice, in the course of his first stroll, the Major's eyes +came near to brimming with tears. The town itself had suffered +surprisingly little change. The Collector--he seemed scarcely a day +older--stood as of old at the head of the Custom House stairs, and +surveyed the world benignly with his thumbs in the arm-holes of his +waistcoat. Before the Major's own doorway the myrtles were in bloom, +and a few China roses on the well-trimmed standards. By the Broad +Ship as of old his nostrils caught the odours of tar and hemp with a +whiff of smoke from a schooner's galley (the _Ranting Blade_, with +her figure-head repainted, but otherwise much the same as ever). +Miss Jex, the postmistress, still peered over her blind. She studied +the Major's wooden leg with interest. He, on his part, seemed to +detect that the down on her upper lip had sensibly lightened in +colour. _En revanche_, from the corner of his eye, as he passed the +open door, he saw that the portrait over the counter (supposed of +yore to represent the Prince Regent) wore a frame of black ribbon. +The black, alas! was rusty. + +The manners of the children had not improved. Half a dozen urchins, +running into him here by the corner of the post-office on their way +from school, fell back in a ring and began to call "Boney!" +derisively. He escaped from them into the churchyard, and passing up +between the graves, rested for a while, panting in the cool of the +porch. + +The door stood ajar. Pushing it open, he stepped within and paused +again, half terrified by the unfamiliar _tap-tap_ of his wooden leg +on the pavement. The sunshine lay in soft panels of light across the +floor, and ran in sharper lines along the tops of the pews, worn to a +polish by generations of hands that had opened and shut their doors. +Aloft, where the rays filtered through the clerestory windows, their +innumerable motes swam like gold-dust held in solution. + +The Major found his own pew, dropped into the familiar seat, and +strove to collect his thoughts. A week ago, on his way from +Plymouth, it had seemed the easiest thing in the world to reveal +himself and step back into his own. The only question had been how +to select the most impressive moment. + +His eyes, travelling along the wall on his right, encountered an +unfamiliar monument among the many familiar ones; an oval slab of +black marble enclosed in a gilt wreath and inscribed with gilt +lettering. He leaned forward, peering closer, blinking against the +sunlight that poured through the window. + + SACRED + TO THE MEMORY OF + SOLOMON HYMEN, ESQUIRE + SEVEN TIMES MAYOR OF THIS BOROUGH + AND + MAJOR COMMANDING THE TROY VOLUNTEER ARTILLERY + UNFORTUNATELY AND UNTIMELY + SLAIN IN ACTION + OFF THE COAST OF FRANCE NEAR BOULOGNE + ON MAY 15TH, MDCCIV. + THIS TABLET WAS ERECTED BY SUBSCRIPTION + AMONG HIS SORROWING FRIENDS AND FELLOW CITIZENS + OF THE BOROUGH HE, LIVING, ADORNED WITH HIS WISDOM + AND DYING, ENDOWED WITH HIS WEALTH + AS WITH HIS EXAMPLE. + FORTIBUS ET COELUM PATRIA + +He spelled out the inscription slowly, and, turning at the sound of a +footstep in the porch, was aware of a tall figure in the doorway--his +own faithful Scipio. + +Least of all was Scipio changed. Ten years apparently had not even +tarnished his livery. It shone in its accustomed scarlet and green +and gold in the rays which, falling through the windows of the south +aisle, lit up his white teeth and his habitual gentle grin. + +"Mistah will be studyin' de board--berry fine board. Not so fine +board in Cornwall, dey tell me." + +The Major turned his face, avoiding recognition. + +"No, not dat; dat's modern trash," went on Scipio, affably, following +his gaze. "Good man, all same, Massa Hymen; lef plenty money. +One hundred fifty pound. Lef Cai Tamblyn fifty. Every person say +remarkable difference. But doan' you look at _him_; he's modern +trash. Massa Hymen lef' me _one_ hundred fifty pound. Dat all go to +board up yonder, you see; 'Scipio Johnson, Esquire, of this Parish' +in red letters an' gilt twirls. I doan' mind tellin' you. De hull +parish an' Lawyer Chinn has it drafted--Vicar he promises me it shall +go in--'Scipio Johnson, Esquire, _of_ this Parish,' an' twiddles +round de capital letters. Man, I served Mas' Hymen han' an' foot, +wet an' dry, an' look like he las' anudder twenty year." + +"You mean to say that I--that you, I mean--" + +"Dat's so," put in Scipio, nodding cheerfully, while the +stained-glass windows flung flecks of red and blue on his honest +ebony features. "An' Cai Tamblyn all de while no better'n a fool. +'_Him_,' he'd sneer, not playin' up, but pullin' his cross face. +Dat's a lesson if ebber dere was one. Cai Tamblyn left with fifty, +an' me with three time fifty. 'To my faithful servant, Scipio +Johnson. . . .' And so Miss Marty, when it came to choose, took me +on--Scipio Johnson, Esquire, of this Parish--and Cai Tamblyn no more +than 'Mister,' nor ebber a hope of it." + + +The Major found himself in the churchyard, staring at a headstone. +He did not remember the stone, yet it seemed by no means a new one. +Weather-stains ran down the lettering and lichen spotted it. + +He read the name. It was the name of a man whom he had left hale and +young--a promising corporal. + +He made his way back slowly to the hospital, leaning heavily on his +stick. Strange shrill noises brought him to a halt on the threshold. +They came from the back of the house. + +At the sound of his wooden leg in the brick passage, Cai Tamblyn +thrust his head out from the kitchen doorway. + +"You come in," said he. "Please the Lord, the worst is over; but I +had to tell her." + +"Her?" echoed the Major in bewilderment. "Who?" + +"Why, you see, fixed up as we were here--the woman with six empty +beds to nurse, and me on 'tother side with a roomful o' momentoes, +an' no end to it but the grave--there seemed no way out but +matterimony. What with my fifty an' her little savin's we might ha' +managed it, too, comfertable enough. But when along comes you an' +upsets the apple-cart, w'y, in justice, the woman had to be told. +Which it took her like a slap in the wind, an' I'm surprised the way +she'd set her heart on it. But never you mind; she's sensible enough +when she comes round." + +"Cai," said the Major, solemnly, "I thought we had agreed that no one +was to be told?" + +"So we did, sir," answered Mr. Tamblyn, setting his jaw. "But, come +to think it over, 'twasn't fair to the woman. Not bein' a married +man yourself, sir, or as good as such--" + +"Excuse me," said the Major, lifting a hand. "I quite well +understand. But suppose that I have not come back after all!" + + + +CHAPTER XXII. + + +WINDS UP WITH A MERRY-GO-ROUND. + +Troy on a Regatta Day differs astonishingly from Troy on any other +day in the year, and yet until you have seen us on a Regatta Day you +have not seen Troy. + +Once every August, on a Monday afternoon, the frenzy descends upon +us; and then for three days we dress our town in bunting and bang +starting guns and finishing guns, and put on fancy dresses, and march +in procession with Japanese lanterns, and dance, and stare at +pyrotechnical displays. But the centre, the pivot, the axis of our +revelry is always the merry-go-round on the Town Quay. + + "The merry-go-round, the merry-go-round, + the merry-go-round at Troy, + They whirl around, they gallop around, + man, woman, and maid and boy!" + +Yachtsmen, visitors, farmers and country wives, sober citizens and +mothers of families, all meet centripetally and mount and are +whirled to the mad strains of the barrel-organ under the flaming +naphtha, around the revolving pillar where the mirrored images chase +one another too quickly for thought to answer their reflections. +We make no toil of our pleasure; yet, if you will mark the +distinction, it keeps us hard at work, and reflection must wait until +Thursday morning. Then we dismiss the yachts on their Channel race +westward. We fire the last gun, pull down the blue Peter, and off +they go. We draw a long breath, stow away our remaining blank +cartridges, pocket the stopwatch, heap the recall numbers together, +and, having redded up the jolly-boat, light our pipes and sit and +gaze awhile after our retreating visitors. They go from us silent as +great white moths; but, silent themselves, they take, as they +brought, all the noise and racket with them. Our revel is over; +behind us the harbour lies almost deserted, and we row back to our +diurnal peace. + +To be sure, in the days of which I write, there were no yachts to +visit us. But three of His Majesty's training-brigs had arrived, +bringing their gigs and long-boats, and sailing cutters, with the +racing-shells in which the oarsmen of Dock were to do battle with our +champions of Troy, and a couple of crews of the famous Saltash +fishwomen who annually gave us an exhibition race for a purse of gold +and in the evening danced quadrilles and country reels on the +quarter-deck with His Majesty's officers. + +The town, on its part, had made all due and zealous preparations; and +at eight o'clock in the morning, when the Major stepped out of the +hospital for a look at the weather (which was hazy but warm, with +promise of a cloudless noon), already the streets breathed festival. +Sir Felix's coppices had been thinned as usual for the occasion, and +scores of small saplings, larch and beech and hazel, lined the narrow +streets, their sharpened stems planted between the cobbles, their +leafy tops braced back against the house-fronts and stayed with ropes +which, leading through the upper windows, were made fast within to +bars of grates, table-legs and bed-posts. Over them, from house to +house, strings of flags waved in the light morning breeze, and over +these again the air was jocund with the distant tunding of a drum and +the voices of flute and clarionet calling men to mirth in the Town +Square. + +The Major gave a glance up and down the street and retired indoors to +prepare his breakfast, for he was alone. Cai Tamblyn and the widow +Snell had the day before departed--on their honeymoon. + +To arrange that his honeymoon should take him from Troy on the day of +all days to which every other soul in the town looked forward, was +quite of a piece with Cai Tamblyn's sardonic humour. But he surely +excelled himself when, the day before his marriage, he called on the +Mayor and begged leave to appoint the patient in the hospital as his +_locum tenens_ for the week. + +"The man's well enough to look after the place," he urged; "and you +won't find him neglectin' it to go gaddin' round the shows. A wooden +leg's a wonderful steadier at fair-times." And the Doctor assented. + +It were too much to say that his appointment, when Cai Tamblyn +reported it, touched our hero's sense of humour, for he had none; but +he winced under the dreadful irony of it. + +"Do you know what you're asking?" he cried. "Suppose that visitors +call--as they will. Would you have me show them round and point out +my own relics?" + +"Damme, and I thought I was givin' you a bit o' fun!" said Cai, +scratching his head. "It can't be often a man finds hisself in your +position; and in the old days when you got hold of a rarity you liked +to make the most of it." + +"Fun!" echoed the Major. "And you'd have me reel off all those +reminiscences--all the sickening praise, yard by yard, out of that +infernal hand-book!" + +Cai Tamblyn eyed him gravely. + +"You don't like that neither?" he asked. + +"Like it!" the poor man echoed again, sank into a chair, and, +shuddering, covered his face. "It makes my soul creep with shame." + +Silence followed for a dozen long seconds. + +"Master!" + +The Major shuddered again, but looked up a moment later with tears in +his eyes as Cai laid a hand kindly yet respectfully on his shoulder. + +"Master, I ax your pardon." He stepped back and paused, seeming +to swallow some words in his throat before he spoke again. +"You're a long way more of a man than ever I gave 'ee credit to be. +Twelve year I passed in your service, too; an' I take ye to witness +that 'twas Cai Tamblyn an' not Scipio Johnson that knawed 'ee agen, +for all the change in your faytures. Whereby you misjudged us, sir, +when you left me fifty pound and that nigger a hundred an' fifty. +Whereby I misjudged ye in turn, an' I ax your pardon." + +"No, Cai; you judged me truly enough, if severely. There was a time +when I'd have fed myself on those praises that now sicken me." + +"An' you was happy in them days." + +"Yes, happy enough." + +"Would you have 'em back, master?" + +"Would I have them back?" The Major straightened himself up and +stood for a moment staring out of the window. "No, Cai," he said +resolutely, squaring his chin; "not for worlds." + +"There's one little bit of it, sir, you got to have back," said Cai; +"an' that's my fifty pound." + +"Nonsense, man. I sha'n't hear of it." + +"I've a-talked it over wi' the woman, an' she's agreeable. She says +'tis the only right an' proper thing to be done." + +"She may be as agreeable as--as you deserve, Cai; but I tell you I +don't touch a penny of it. And you may have formed your own opinion +of me during twelve years of service, but in all that time I don't +think you ever knew me go back on my word." + +"That's truth, sir," Cai admitted, scratching his head again; +"and more by token, 'tis about the only thing the book has forgot to +praise 'ee for." + +"Perhaps," said the Major, in his bitterness almost achieving a +witticism, "the author felt 'twould be out of place." + +"But all this apart, sir, I don't see how you'll get along without +money." + +"Make your mind easy on that score, my friend. I rather fancy that +I'm provided for; but if that should prove to be a mistake, I may +come to you for advice." + +"Marryin'?" queried Cai. "But no; with a wooden leg--you'll excuse +me--" + +"Devil take the man! _You_ can't argue that womenkind are +squeamish." + +Cai grinned, "You'll take on this little job, anyway, sir? I can't +very well go to his Worship an' beg you off; it might set him +suspectin'." + +"I'll take the job," said the Major, hastily. + +"Brayvo! But what I'd like to do"--Cai rubbed his chin +reflectively--"is to get that cussed book written over agen, an' +written different." + +"Give it time," his master answered sadly. "Maybe even that is a job +that will get itself done one of these days." + +Cai and his bride had departed, and the Major faced the ordeal of +Regatta Day with much trepidation. Heaven help him to play his part +like a man! + +But it appeared that the sightseers, who, as ever, began to pour into +the town at nine in the morning and passed the door in one steady, +continuous stream until long past noonday, had either seen the Hymen +Hospital before or were intent first on culling the more evanescent +pleasures of the day. In fact, no visitor troubled him until one +o'clock, when, in the lull between the starts of the sailing and the +rowing races, and while the Regatta Committee was dining ashore to +the strains of a brass band, a farm labourer in his Sunday best, +crowned with a sugar-loaf hat, entered, flung himself into a chair, +and demanded to have a tooth extracted. + +"You needn' mind which," he added encouragingly; "they all aches at +times. Only don't let it be more than one, for I can't afford it. +I been countin' up how to lay out my money, an' I got sixpence over; +an' it can't be in beer, because I promised the missus." + +The Major assured him that the extraction of a tooth or teeth did not +fall within the sphere of the hospital's provision. + +"W'y not?" asked the countryman, and added coaxingly, "Just to pass +the time, now!" + +"Not even to pass the time," the Major answered with firmness. + +"Very well," said the man resignedly. "If you won't, you won't; but +let's while it away somehow. Give me a black draught." + +At rare intervals from three o'clock till five other country +folk dropped in, two or three (once even half a dozen) at a time. +As a show the Hymen Hospital and Museum appeared to have outlived +its vogue. The male visitors, one and all, removed their hats on +entering, and spoke in constrained tones as if in church. +To the Major's relief, no one asked him to recite from the book, and +the questions put to him were of the simplest. A farm maiden from +the country requested that the bust might be wound up. + +"I beg your pardon?" + +"You don't tell me there isn' no music inside!" the maiden exclaimed. +"What's it _for,_ then?" + +With difficulty the Major explained the purpose and also the limits +of statuary. The girl turned to her swain with a _moue_ of disgust. + +"It's my belief," she reproached him, "you brought me here out of +stinginess, pretending not to notice when we passed the waxworks, +which is only tuppence, and real murderers with their chests a-rising +an' fallin', as Maria's young man treated her to a last Regatta; an' +a Sleepin' Beauty with a clockwork song inside like distant angels." + +But at five o'clock, or thereabouts, arrived no less a personage than +Sir Felix Felix-Williams himself, gallantly escorting a couple of +ladies whom he had piloted through the various rustic sights of the +fair. + +"O--oof!" panted Sir Felix, gaining the cool passage and mopping his +brow. "A veritable haven of rest after the dust and din! Hallo, my +good man, are you the caretaker for the day? I don't seem to +recollect your face. . . . Eh? No? Well, show us round, please. +These ladies are curious to know something of our local hero." + +The Major, his wooden leg trembling, opened the door of the Museum. +The ladies put up their eye-glasses and gazed around, while Sir Felix +dusted his coat. + +"Hymen, his name was. That's his bust yonder," Sir Felix explained, +flicking at his collar with his handkerchief. "A very decent body; a +retired linen-draper, if I remember, from somewhere in the City, +where he put together quite a tidy sum of money. Came home and spent +it in his native town, where for years he was quite a big-wig. +But our friend here has a book about him, written up by the +apothecary of the place. Isn't that so?" he appealed to the Major, +who drew the document from his pocket with shaking fingers. + +"Eh? I thought so," went on Sir Felix. "But spare us the +long-winded passages, my friend. Just a few particulars to satisfy +the ladies, who, on this their first visit to Cornwall, are good +enough to be inquisitive _a folie_ about us--about Troy especially." + +"But it is ravishing--quite ravishing!" declared one of the ladies. + +"A duck of a place!" cried the other, inspecting the bust. "And see, +Sophronia, what a duck of a man! And you say he was only a +linen-draper?" She turned to Sir Felix. + +"But all the Cornish are gentlemen--didn't Queen Elizabeth or +somebody say something of the sort?" chimed in the first. +"And the place kept as neat as a pin, I protest!" + +"Gentlemen in their own conceit, I fear," Sir Felix answered. +"But this fellow was, on the whole, a very decent fellow. Success, +or what passes for it in a small country town, never turned his head. +He had a foible, I'm told, on the strength of a likeness (you'll be +amused) to the Prince Regent. But, so far as I observed, he knew how +to conduct himself towards his--er--superiors. I had quite a respect +for him. Yes, begad, quite a respect." + +"I think, sir," said the Major, controlling his voice, "since you ask +me to select a passage, this may interest the ladies: + + "'But perhaps the most remarkable trait in the subject of our + memoir was his invariable magnanimity, which alone persuaded + all who met him that they had to deal with no ordinary man. + It is related of him that once in childhood, having been pecked + in the leg by a gander, he was found weeping rather at the + aggressive insolence of the fowl (with which he had + good-naturedly endeavoured to make friends) than at the trivial + hurt received by his own boyish calves.'" + +The ladies laughed, and Sir Felix joined in uproariously. + +"How deliciously quaint!" exclaimed the one her friend had addressed +as Sophronia. "What rural detail!" + +"The very word. Quaint--devilish quaint!" Sir Felix agreed. +"We _are_ devilish quaint in these parts." + +The Major turned a page: + + "'So far as inquiry lifts the curtain over the closing scene, it + was marked by a similar calm forgetfulness of self in the higher + interests of his Sovereign, his Country, the British Race. + If enemies he had, he forgave them. Attending only to his + country's call for volunteers to defend her shores, he followed + it in the least conspicuous manner, and fell; leaving at once an + example and a reproach to those who, living at home in ease, + enjoyed the protection of spirits better conscious of the + destinies and duties of Englishmen.'" + +"Gad, and so he did!" Sir Felix exclaimed. "I remember thinking +something of the sort at the time and doubling my subscription." +He yawned. "Shall we go, ladies?" he asked. "I assure you there is +no time to be lost if you wish to see the menagerie." + +But when the ladies were in the passage, the Major half-closed the +door, shutting Sir Felix off. + +"May I have just one word with you, sir? I will not detain you more +than a moment." + +"Eh?" said Sir Felix, and pulled out a shilling. "Is that what +you're after? Well, I'm glad you had the delicacy to let the ladies +pass out first. They think us an unsophisticated folk." + +The Major waved the coin aside. He planted himself on his wooden +leg, with his back to the door, and faced the baronet. + +"I just want to tell you," he said quietly, "that the whole of what I +read was a lie." + +"Naturally, my good fellow. One allows for that in those memoirs." + +"The man, except in parable, was never bitten by a gander in his +life," persisted the Major. "Nor did he enlist and fall--if he +fell--through any magnanimous motive. He just left Troy on finding +himself betrayed by a neighbour--a dirty, little, mean-spirited, +pompous gander of a neighbour--and whatever example he may have +unwittingly--yes, and unwillingly--set, the lesson does not appear to +have been learnt--at least, until this moment. But," concluded the +Major, throwing wide the door, "we keep the ladies waiting, Sir +Felix." + +Sir Felix, ordinarily the most irascible of men, gasped once and +passed out, cowed, beaten, utterly and hopelessly bewildered. +The Major stood by the door with chest inflated as it had not been +inflated for ten years and more. + +Perhaps this inflation of the chest, reviving old recollections, +prompted him to do what next he did. Otherwise I confess I cannot +account for it. He stepped back from the door and looked around the +room, emitting a long breath. Outside the window the dusk was +already descending on the street. Within a glass-fronted cupboard in +the corner, hung his old uniform, sword, epaulettes and cocked hat; +above the mantelpiece a looking-glass. + +He stepped to the cupboard, opened it, and took down the time-rotten +regimentals. Slowly, very slowly, he divested himself of his +clothes, and, piece by piece, indued himself in the old finery. + +At the breeches he paused; then drew them on hastily over his wooden +leg, and left them unbuttoned at the knees while he thrust his arms +into coat and waistcoat. Prison fare had reduced his waist, and the +garments hung limply about him. But the breeches were worst. +Around his wooden leg the buttons would not meet at all. And what to +do with the gaiter? + +Methodically he unstrapped the leg and regarded it. Heavens! how for +these three years past he had hated it! He looked up. From the far +side of the room the bust watched him, still with its fatuous smile. + +He rose in a sudden access of passion, gripping the leg, taking aim. + . . . A slight noise in the passage arrested him, and, leaning +against the door-jamb, he peered out. It was the woman with the +evening's milk, and she had set down the jug in the passage. + +He closed the door, swayed a moment, and with a spring off his sound +leg, leapt on the still grinning bust and smote at it, crashing it +into pieces. + + +Mrs. Tiddy, the milkwoman, ran home declaring that, in the act of +delivering the usual two pennyworth at the hospital, she had seen the +ghost of the Major himself, in full regimentals, in the act of +assaulting his own statue; which, sure enough, was found next morning +scattered all over the floor. + + +The crash of it recalled the Major to his senses. He stared down on +the fragments at his feet. He had burnt his boats now. + +As methodically as he had indued them he divested himself of his +regimentals, and so, having slipped into his old clothes again and +strapped on his leg, stumped resolutely forth into the street. + +Cai Tamblyn, like every other Trojan, kept a boat of his own; and on +the eve of departing he had placed her at the Major's disposal. +She lay moored by a frape off a semi-public quay door, approached +from the Fore Street by a narrow alley known as Cherry's (or +Charity's) Court. + +The Major stumped down to the waterside in the fast gathering dusk +and hauled in the boat. Luckily the tide was high, and reached +within four feet of the sill of the doorway; luckily, I say, because +few contrivances in this world are less compatible than a ladder and +a wooden leg. The tide being high, however, he managed to scramble +down and on board without much difficulty; unmoored, shipped a paddle +in the sculling-notch over the boat's stern, and very quietly worked +her up and alongshore, in the shadow of the waterside houses. + +Arrived at the quay-ladder leading up to Dr. Hansombody's garden-- +once, alas! his own--and to the terrace consecrated by memories of +the green-sealed Madeira, he checked the boat's way and looked up for +a moment, listening. Hearing no sound, he slipped the painter around +a rung, made fast with a hitch, and cautiously, very cautiously, +pulled himself up the ladder, bringing his eyes level with the sill +of the open door. + +Heaven be praised! the little garden was empty. A moment later he +had heaved himself on to the sill and was crawling along the terrace. + +At the end of the terrace, in a dark corner by the wall, grew a +stunted fig-tree, its roots set among the flagstones, its boughs +overhanging the tide; and by the roots, between the bole of the trees +and the wall, one of the flagstones had a notch in its edge, a notch +in old days cunningly concealed, the trick of it known only to the +Major. + +He drew out a small marlingspike which he carried in a sheath at his +hip, and, bending over the flagstone, felt for the notch; found it, +inserted the point, and began to prise, glancing, as he worked, over +his shoulder at the windows of the house. A lamp shone in one. + . . . So much the better. If the room had an inmate, the lamp would +make it harder for him or her to see what went on in the dim garden. +Ten years. . . . Could his hoard have lain all that time undisturbed? +He had hidden it in the old days of the invasion-scare, as many a +citizen had made secret deposit against emergencies. Banks were +novelties in those days. Who knew what might happen to a bank, if +Boney landed? + +But ten years . . . a long time . . . and yet to all appearances the +stone had not been tampered with. He levered it up and thrust it +aside. + +No! There the bags lay amid the earth! Two bags, and a hundred +guineas in each! He clutched and felt their full round sides. Yes, +yes, they were full, as he had left them! + +WHO-OOSH! + +Heavens! What was _that_? + +The Major gripped his bags and was preparing to run; but, an instant +later, cowered low, and backed into the fig-tree's shadow as the +whole sky leapt into flame and shook with a terrific detonation. + +The Regatta fireworks had begun. + +Across the little garden a window went up. + +"My dear," said a voice (the Doctor's), "bring the child to look, if +he won't be frightened." + +In the window they stood, all three--the Doctor, "Miss Marty," the +child--a happy domestic group, framed there with the lamp behind +them. Deep as he could squeeze himself back into the shadow, the +Major cowered and watched them. + +The child crowed and leapt with delight. His father and mother +looked down at him, then at one another, and laughed happily. +Alas! poor Major! + +They had no eyes to search the garden. What should they suspect, +those two, there in the warm circle of the lamp, wrapped in their own +security? + +The rockets ceased to blaze and bang. At length the heavens resumed +their dark peace, and the distant barrel-organ reasserted itself from +the Town Quay. The child's voice demanded more, but his father +closed the window and drew the curtain close. Panting hard, his brow +clammy with sweat, the Major stole forth and down to the boat with +his poor spoils. + +Half an hour later he found himself in the crowd, his pockets +weighted with guineas. Whither should he go? In what direction set +his face? Eastward for Plymouth, or westward for Falmouth? +He roamed the streets, letting the throng of merrymakers carry him +for the while as it willed; and it ended, of course (you may make the +experiment for yourself on a regatta night), in carrying him to the +merry-go-round on the Town Quay. + +He stared at it stupidly, his hands in his bulging pockets. +He feared no thieves. To begin with, his appearance was not +calculated to invite the attention of pickpockets, and moreover, +there are none in Troy. He stared at the whirling horses, the +blazing naphtha jets, the revolving mirrors, the laughing, +irresponsible faces as they swept by and away again, and reappeared +and once again passed laughing thither where, on the farther side of +the circle, brooded (as it seemed to him) a great shadow of darkness. + +Suddenly his heart stood still, and his few hairs stiffened under his +tarpaulin hat. That sailor, riding with a happy grin on his face, +and his face towards his horse's tail! Surely not--surely it could +not be . . .? But as the sailor whirled round into view again, it +surely was Ben Jope! + +The music and the merry-go-round slowed down together and came to a +standstill. A score of riders clambered off, and a score of +onlookers surged up and took their places. The Major ran with them, +pushing his way to the far side of the circle where Mr. Jope's horse +had come to a stop. He arrived, but too late. Mr. Jope had +disappeared. + +A moment later, however, the Major caught sight of him, elbowing his +way through the gut of a narrow lane leading off the Quay by the +fish-market, and gave chase. But the weight in his pockets +handicapped him, and the crowd seemed to take a malicious delight in +blocking his way. + +Nevertheless he kept his quarry in sight. A dozen times at least Mr. +Jope halted before a shop or a booth and dallied, staring, but ever +on the point of capture he would start off again, threading the +throng with extreme nimbleness. With a dexterity as marvellous as it +was unconscious, he dodged his pursuer past the Broad Ship, up Custom +House Hill, along Passage Street, out through the Tollway Arch and +among the greater shows--the menagerie, the marionettes, the +travelling theatre--all in full blast, almost to the extreme edge of +the fair, where it melted into the darkness of the woods and the high +road winding up between them into open country. Here, hanging on his +heel for a moment, he appeared to make a final choice between these +many attractions, and dived into a booth over which a flaming board +announced a conjuring entertainment by Professor Boscoboglio,-- +"Prestidigitateur to the Allied Sovereigns." + +The Major spied Mr. Jope's broad back as he dipped and entered +beneath the flap of the tent; and followed, elate at having run his +quarry to earth. A stout woman, seated at the entrance beside a drum +on which she counted her change, thrust out an arm of no mean +proportions to block his entrance, and demanded twopence, fee for +admission. + +The Major, who had forgotten this formality, dipped his hand into his +breeches pocket and tendered her a guinea. She eyed it suspiciously, +took it, rang it on the lid of her money-box, and, recognising it for +a genuine coin, at once transferred her suspicions to him. + +"Tuppence out of a guinea?" she sniffed. "Not likely, with a man of +_your_ looks." + +"It's genuine, ma'am." + +"I ain't a fool," answered the lady. "I was wondering how you came +by it. Well, anyway, I can't give you change; so take yourself off, +please." + +He argued, but she was obdurate. She hadn't the change about her, +she affirmed, with a jerk of her thumb towards the interior of the +tent. Their takings to-day hadn't amounted to five shillings, as she +was a Christian woman. + +The Major, glancing beneath the tent-cloth, spied a melancholy man +extracting ribbons from his mouth before an audience of three men, a +child and a woman. He heard Ben Jope's voice raised in approval. +He announced that he would wait outside until the performance +concluded. + +"Twenty minutes," said the stout woman nonchalantly. + +"Good evening, ma'am," said he, and stepping back, began to pace to +and fro in front of the tent. + +Why had he followed this man who, if you looked at it in one way, had +been the prime cause of all his calamity? He smiled grimly at the +thought that, as justice went in this world, he should be tracking +Ben Jope down in a cold passion of revenge; whereas, in fact, he was +hungry to grip the honest fellow's hand. From the panorama of these +ten mischanced years the face of Ben Jope shone out as in a halo, +wreathed with good-natured smiles. Ben Jope-- + +Here the Major flung up both hands and tottered back as, with a lift +of the earth beneath his feet, a flame ripped the roof off the tent, +and roaring, hurled it right and left into the night. + +Under the shock of the explosion he dropped on hands and knees, and, +still on hands and knees, crawled forward to a ditch, a full ten +yards to the left of the spot where the tent had stood. In the +darkness one of the victims lay groaning. + +"Are--are you hurt?" The Major's teeth chattered as he crawled near +and stretched out a hand towards the sufferer. + +"Damn the fellow!" swore Ben Jope cheerfully, sitting up. "What'll +be his next trick, I wonder?" + +"You--you are not hurt?" + +"Hurt? No, I reckon. Who are you?" + +"Hymen, Ben--Solomon Hymen. You remember--in the Plymouth Theatre, +ten years back. Oh, hush, man, hush!" for Ben, casting both hands up +to his face, had let out a squeal like a rabbit's. + +"An' I saw you die! Oh, take him away someone! With these very +eyes! No, damn it!" Mr. Jope pulled himself together and scrambled +to his feet. "I paid for two pennyworth, but if this goes on I gets +my money back!" + +By this time showmen and merrymakers, startled out of the +neighbouring tents by the explosion, as bees from their hives, were +running to and fro with lanterns and naphtha flares, seeking for the +victims. A ring of the searchers came to a halt around the Major and +Ben Jope, and Ben, catching sight of his companion's face, let out +another yell. + +"It's all right." The Major clutched him by the arm and turned. +"It's all right, my good people. He can walk, you see. I'll take +him along to the hospital." + +He managed to reassure them, and they passed on. He slipped an arm +under Ben's and led him away into the darkness. + +"But I seen you blowed into air, ten years ago, _with_ these very +eyes," persisted Ben. + +"And with these very eyes I saw you blown into air ten minutes ago; +and yet we're both alive," the Major assured him. + +"An' I come here o' purpose to look up your ha'nts, havin' been +always pretty curious about that tale o' your'n, but kep' moderate +busy all these years." + +"And Bill Adams?" + +"Wot?" Mr. Jope halted. "Haven't you 'eard? Bill's dead. +Drink done it--comin' upon it too 'asty. Simmons's boarding-house, +Plymouth, that's where it was. _Quite_ a decent house, an' the +proprietor behaved very well about it, I will say. But where on +earth have you been hidin' all these years, that you never heard +about Bill?" + +"In a French war prison, Ben. And, Ben, you found me a berth once, +you remember. I wonder if you could get me into another?" + +"O' course I can," Mr. Jope answered cheerily. "You come along o' me +to Plymouth an' I'll put you into the very job. A cook's galley, it +is, and so narra' that with a wooden leg in dirty weather you can +prop yourself tight when she rolls, an' stir the soup with it +between-times!" + + +They entered the hospital, and the Major packed his knapsack with +hasty, eager hands. + +"What's this mess on the floor?" asked Ben Jope, pointing to the +fragments of plaster of Paris. + +"That?" The Major looked up from his packing. "That's a sort of +image I broke. Come along; we haven't time to pick up the pieces." + + +They crossed the harbour in Cai Tamblyn's boat, and moored her safely +at the ferry slip. On the knap of the hill the Major turned for a +last look. + +From the Town Quay, far below and across the water, the lights of the +merry-go-round winked at him gaily, knowingly. + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MAYOR OF TROY*** + + +******* This file should be named 19751.txt or 19751.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/9/7/5/19751 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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