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diff --git a/5148-h/5148-h.htm b/5148-h/5148-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9e620c7 --- /dev/null +++ b/5148-h/5148-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,10356 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=US-ASCII" /> +<title>Rodney Stone, by Arthur Conan Doyle</title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + P { margin-top: .75em; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + P.gutsumm { margin-left: 5%;} + P.poetry {margin-left: 3%; } + .GutSmall { font-size: 0.7em; } + H1, H2 { + text-align: center; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + } + H3, H4, H5 { + text-align: center; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; + } + BODY{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + table { border-collapse: collapse; } +table {margin-left:auto; margin-right:auto;} + td { vertical-align: top; border: 1px solid black;} + td p { margin: 0.2em; } + .blkquot {margin-left: 4em; margin-right: 4em;} /* block indent */ + + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + .pagenum {position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: small; + text-align: right; + font-weight: normal; + color: gray; + } + img { border: none; } + img.dc { float: left; width: 50px; height: 50px; } + p.gutindent { margin-left: 2em; } + div.gapspace { height: 0.8em; } + div.gapline { height: 0.8em; width: 100%; border-top: 1px solid;} + div.gapmediumline { height: 0.3em; width: 40%; margin-left:30%; + border-top: 1px solid; } + div.gapmediumdoubleline { height: 0.3em; width: 40%; margin-left:30%; + border-top: 1px solid; border-bottom: 1px solid;} + div.gapshortdoubleline { height: 0.3em; width: 20%; + margin-left: 40%; border-top: 1px solid; + border-bottom: 1px solid; } + div.gapdoubleline { height: 0.3em; width: 50%; + margin-left: 25%; border-top: 1px solid; + border-bottom: 1px solid;} + div.gapshortline { height: 0.3em; width: 20%; margin-left:40%; + border-top: 1px solid; } + .citation {vertical-align: super; + font-size: .8em; + text-decoration: none;} + img.floatleft { float: left; + margin-right: 1em; + margin-top: 0.5em; margin-bottom: 0.5em; } + img.floatright { float: right; + margin-left: 1em; margin-top: 0.5em; + margin-bottom: 0.5em; } + img.clearcenter {display: block; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; margin-top: 0.5em; + margin-bottom: 0.5em} + --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> +</head> +<body> +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Rodney Stone, by Arthur Conan Doyle + + +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 www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: Rodney Stone + + +Author: Arthur Conan Doyle + + + +Release Date: July 27, 2014 [eBook #5148] +[This file was first posted on May 14, 2002] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RODNEY STONE*** +</pre> +<p>Transcribed from the 1921 Eveleigh Nash & Grayson edition +by David Price, email ccx074@pglaf.org</p> +<h1>RODNEY STONE</h1> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p style="text-align: center">By<br /> +A. CONAN DOYLE</p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p style="text-align: center">London<br /> +EVELEIGH NASH & GRAYSON LTD.<br /> +148, Strand<br /> +1921</p> +<h2>PREFACE</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">Amongst</span> the books to which I am +indebted for my material in my endeavour to draw various phases +of life and character in England at the beginning of the century, +I would particularly mention Ashton’s “Dawn of the +Nineteenth Century;” Gronow’s +“Reminiscences;” Fitzgerald’s “Life and +Times of George IV.;” Jesse’s “Life of +Brummell;” “Boxiana;” +“Pugilistica;” Harper’s “Brighton +Road;” Robinson’s “Last Earl of +Barrymore” and “Old Q.;” Rice’s +“History of the Turf;” Tristram’s +“Coaching Days;” James’s “Naval +History;” Clark Russell’s “Collingwood” +and “Nelson.”</p> +<p>I am also much indebted to my friends Mr. J. C. Parkinson and +Robert Barr for information upon the subject of the ring.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">A. CONAN DOYLE.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Haslemere</span>,<br /> + <i>September</i> 1, 1896.</p> +<h2>CONTENTS.</h2> +<table> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span +class="GutSmall">CHAPTER</span></p> +</td> +<td><p> </p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span +class="GutSmall">PAGE</span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">I.</p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Friar’s Oak</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page1">1</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">II.</p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">The Walker of Cliffe Royal</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page18">18</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">III.</p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">The Play-actress of Anstey +Cross</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page33">33</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">IV.</p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">The Peace of Amiens</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page50">50</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">V.</p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Buck Tregellis</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page65">65</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">VI.</p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">On the Threshold</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page86">86</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">VII.</p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">The Hope of England</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page98">98</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">VIII.</p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">The Brighton Road</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page121">121</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">IX.</p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Watier’s</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page136">136</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">X.</p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">The Men of the Ring</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page153">153</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">XI.</p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">The Fight in the +Coach-house</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page179">179</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">XII.</p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">The Coffee-room of +Fladong’s</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page201">201</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">XIII.</p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Lord Nelson</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page221">221</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">XIV.</p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">On the Road</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page234">234</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">XV.</p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Foul Play</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page253">253</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">XVI.</p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Crawley Downs</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page261">261</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">XVII.</p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">The Ring-side</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page277">277</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">XVIII.</p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">The Smith’s Last +Battle</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page294">294</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">XIX.</p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Cliffe Royal</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page314">314</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">XX.</p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Lord Avon</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page326">326</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">XXI.</p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">The Valet’s Story</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page340">340</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">XXII.</p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">The End</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page355">355</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +</table> +<h2><a name="page1"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 1</span>CHAPTER +I.<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">FRIAR’S OAK.</span></h2> +<p><span class="smcap">On</span> this, the first of January of +the year 1851, the nineteenth century has reached its midway +term, and many of us who shared its youth have already warnings +which tell us that it has outworn us. We put our grizzled +heads together, we older ones, and we talk of the great days that +we have known; but we find that when it is with our children that +we talk it is a hard matter to make them understand. We and +our fathers before us lived much the same life, but they with +their railway trains and their steamboats belong to a different +age. It is true that we can put history-books into their +hands, and they can read from them of our weary struggle of two +and twenty years with that great and evil man. They can +learn how Freedom fled from the whole broad continent, and how +Nelson’s blood was shed, and Pitt’s noble heart was +broken in striving that she should not pass us for ever to take +refuge with our brothers across the Atlantic. All this they +can read, with the date of this treaty or that battle, but I do +not know where they are to read of ourselves, of the folk we +were, and the lives we led, and how the world seemed to our eyes +when they were young as theirs are now.</p> +<p>If I take up my pen to tell you about this, you must not look +for any story at my hands, for I was only in my earliest manhood +when these things befell; and although I saw something of the +stories of other lives, I could scarce claim one of my own. +It is the love of a woman that makes the story of a man, and many +a year was to pass before I first looked into the eyes of the +mother of my children. To us it seems but an affair of +yesterday, and yet those children can now reach the plums in the +garden whilst we are seeking for a ladder, and where we once +walked with their little hands in ours, we are glad now to lean +upon their arms. But I shall speak of a time when the love +of a mother was the only love I knew, and if you seek for +something more, then it is not for you that I write. But if +you would come out with me into that forgotten world; if you +would know Boy Jim and Champion Harrison; if you would meet my +father, one of Nelson’s own men; if you would catch a +glimpse of that great seaman himself, and of George, afterwards +the unworthy King of England; if, above all, you would see my +famous uncle, Sir Charles Tregellis, the King of the Bucks, and +the great fighting men whose names are still household words +amongst you, then give me your hand and let us start.</p> +<p>But I must warn you also that, if you think you will find much +that is of interest in your guide, you are destined to +disappointment. When I look over my bookshelves, I can see +that it is only the wise and witty and valiant who have ventured +to write down their experiences. For my own part, if I were +only assured that I was as clever and brave as the average man +about me, I should be well satisfied. Men of their hands +have thought well of my brains, and men of brains of my hands, +and that is the best that I can say of myself. Save in the +one matter of having an inborn readiness for music, so that the +mastery of any instrument comes very easily and naturally to me, +I cannot recall any single advantage which I can boast over my +fellows. In all things I have been a half-way man, for I am +of middle height, my eyes are neither blue nor grey, and my hair, +before Nature dusted it with her powder, was betwixt flaxen and +brown. I may, perhaps, claim this: that through life I have +never felt a touch of jealousy as I have admired a better man +than myself, and that I have always seen all things as they are, +myself included, which should count in my favour now that I sit +down in my mature age to write my memories. With your +permission, then, we will push my own personality as far as +possible out of the picture. If you can conceive me as a +thin and colourless cord upon which my would-be pearls are +strung, you will be accepting me upon the terms which I should +wish.</p> +<p>Our family, the Stones, have for many generations belonged to +the navy, and it has been a custom among us for the eldest son to +take the name of his father’s favourite commander. +Thus we can trace our lineage back to old Vernon Stone, who +commanded a high-sterned, peak-nosed, fifty-gun ship against the +Dutch. Through Hawke Stone and Benbow Stone we came down to +my father, Anson Stone, who in his turn christened me Rodney, at +the parish church of St. Thomas at Portsmouth in the year of +grace 1786.</p> +<p>Out of my window as I write I can see my own great lad in the +garden, and if I were to call out “Nelson!” you would +see that I have been true to the traditions of our family.</p> +<p>My dear mother, the best that ever a man had, was the second +daughter of the Reverend John Tregellis, Vicar of Milton, which +is a small parish upon the borders of the marshes of +Langstone. She came of a poor family, but one of some +position, for her elder brother was the famous Sir Charles +Tregellis, who, having inherited the money of a wealthy East +Indian merchant, became in time the talk of the town and the very +particular friend of the Prince of Wales. Of him I shall +have more to say hereafter; but you will note now that he was my +own uncle, and brother to my mother.</p> +<p>I can remember her all through her beautiful life for she was +but a girl when she married, and little more when I can first +recall her busy fingers and her gentle voice. I see her as +a lovely woman with kind, dove’s eyes, somewhat short of +stature it is true, but carrying herself very bravely. In +my memories of those days she is clad always in some purple +shimmering stuff, with a white kerchief round her long white +neck, and I see her fingers turning and darting as she works at +her knitting. I see her again in her middle years, sweet +and loving, planning, contriving, achieving, with the few +shillings a day of a lieutenant’s pay on which to support +the cottage at Friar’s Oak, and to keep a fair face to the +world. And now, if I do but step into the parlour, I can +see her once more, with over eighty years of saintly life behind +her, silver-haired, placid-faced, with her dainty ribboned cap, +her gold-rimmed glasses, and her woolly shawl with the blue +border. I loved her young and I love her old, and when she +goes she will take something with her which nothing in the world +can ever make good to me again. You may have many friends, +you who read this, and you may chance to marry more than once, +but your mother is your first and your last. Cherish her, +then, whilst you may, for the day will come when every hasty deed +or heedless word will come back with its sting to hive in your +own heart.</p> +<p>Such, then, was my mother; and as to my father, I can describe +him best when I come to the time when he returned to us from the +Mediterranean. During all my childhood he was only a name +to me, and a face in a miniature hung round my mother’s +neck. At first they told me he was fighting the French, and +then after some years one heard less about the French and more +about General Buonaparte. I remember the awe with which one +day in Thomas Street, Portsmouth, I saw a print of the great +Corsican in a bookseller’s window. This, then, was +the arch enemy with whom my father spent his life in terrible and +ceaseless contest. To my childish imagination it was a +personal affair, and I for ever saw my father and this +clean-shaven, thin-lipped man swaying and reeling in a deadly, +year-long grapple. It was not until I went to the Grammar +School that I understood how many other little boys there were +whose fathers were in the same case.</p> +<p>Only once in those long years did my father return home, which +will show you what it meant to be the wife of a sailor in those +days. It was just after we had moved from Portsmouth to +Friar’s Oak, whither he came for a week before he set sail +with Admiral Jervis to help him to turn his name into Lord St. +Vincent. I remember that he frightened as well as +fascinated me with his talk of battles, and I can recall as if it +were yesterday the horror with which I gazed upon a spot of blood +upon his shirt ruffle, which had come, as I have no doubt, from a +mischance in shaving. At the time I never questioned that +it had spurted from some stricken Frenchman or Spaniard, and I +shrank from him in terror when he laid his horny hand upon my +head. My mother wept bitterly when he was gone, but for my +own part I was not sorry to see his blue back and white shorts +going down the garden walk, for I felt, with the heedless +selfishness of a child, that we were closer together, she and I, +when we were alone.</p> +<p>I was in my eleventh year when we moved from Portsmouth to +Friar’s Oak, a little Sussex village to the north of +Brighton, which was recommended to us by my uncle, Sir Charles +Tregellis, one of whose grand friends, Lord Avon, had had his +seat near there. The reason of our moving was that living +was cheaper in the country, and that it was easier for my mother +to keep up the appearance of a gentlewoman when away from the +circle of those to whom she could not refuse hospitality. +They were trying times those to all save the farmers, who made +such profits that they could, as I have heard, afford to let half +their land lie fallow, while living like gentlemen upon the +rest. Wheat was at a hundred and ten shillings a quarter, +and the quartern loaf at one and ninepence. Even in the +quiet of the cottage of Friar’s Oak we could scarce have +lived, were it not that in the blockading squadron in which my +father was stationed there was the occasional chance of a little +prize-money. The line-of-battle ships themselves, tacking +on and off outside Brest, could earn nothing save honour; but the +frigates in attendance made prizes of many coasters, and these, +as is the rule of the service, were counted as belonging to the +fleet, and their produce divided into head-money. In this +manner my father was able to send home enough to keep the cottage +and to pay for me at the day school of Mr. Joshua Allen, where +for four years I learned all that he had to teach. It was +at Allen’s school that I first knew Jim Harrison, Boy Jim +as he has always been called, the nephew of Champion Harrison of +the village smithy. I can see him as he was in those days +with great, floundering, half-formed limbs like a Newfoundland +puppy, and a face that set every woman’s head round as he +passed her. It was in those days that we began our lifelong +friendship, a friendship which still in our waning years binds us +closely as two brothers. I taught him his exercises, for he +never loved the sight of a book, and he in turn made me box and +wrestle, tickle trout on the Adur, and snare rabbits on Ditching +Down, for his hands were as active as his brain was slow. +He was two years my elder, however, so that, long before I had +finished my schooling, he had gone to help his uncle at the +smithy.</p> +<p>Friar’s Oak is in a dip of the Downs, and the +forty-third milestone between London and Brighton lies on the +skirt of the village. It is but a small place, with an +ivied church, a fine vicarage, and a row of red-brick cottages +each in its own little garden. At one end was the forge of +Champion Harrison, with his house behind it, and at the other was +Mr. Allen’s school. The yellow cottage, standing back +a little from the road, with its upper story bulging forward and +a crisscross of black woodwork let into the plaster, is the one +in which we lived. I do not know if it is still standing, +but I should think it likely, for it was not a place much given +to change.</p> +<p>Just opposite to us, at the other side of the broad, white +road, was the Friar’s Oak Inn, which was kept in my day by +John Cummings, a man of excellent repute at home, but liable to +strange outbreaks when he travelled, as will afterwards become +apparent. Though there was a stream of traffic upon the +road, the coaches from Brighton were too fresh to stop, and those +from London too eager to reach their journey’s end, so that +if it had not been for an occasional broken trace or loosened +wheel, the landlord would have had only the thirsty throats of +the village to trust to. Those were the days when the +Prince of Wales had just built his singular palace by the sea, +and so from May to September, which was the Brighton season, +there was never a day that from one to two hundred curricles, +chaises, and phaetons did not rattle past our doors. Many a +summer evening have Boy Jim and I lain upon the grass, watching +all these grand folk, and cheering the London coaches as they +came roaring through the dust clouds, leaders and wheelers +stretched to their work, the bugles screaming and the coachmen +with their low-crowned, curly-brimmed hats, and their faces as +scarlet as their coats. The passengers used to laugh when +Boy Jim shouted at them, but if they could have read his big, +half-set limbs and his loose shoulders aright, they would have +looked a little harder at him, perhaps, and given him back his +cheer.</p> +<p>Boy Jim had never known a father or a mother, and his whole +life had been spent with his uncle, Champion Harrison. +Harrison was the Friar’s Oak blacksmith, and he had his +nickname because he fought Tom Johnson when he held the English +belt, and would most certainly have beaten him had the +Bedfordshire magistrates not appeared to break up the +fight. For years there was no such glutton to take +punishment and no more finishing hitter than Harrison, though he +was always, as I understand, a slow one upon his feet. At +last, in a fight with Black Baruk the Jew, he finished the battle +with such a lashing hit that he not only knocked his opponent +over the inner ropes, but he left him betwixt life and death for +long three weeks. During all this time Harrison lived half +demented, expecting every hour to feel the hand of a Bow Street +runner upon his collar, and to be tried for his life. This +experience, with the prayers of his wife, made him forswear the +ring for ever, and carry his great muscles into the one trade in +which they seemed to give him an advantage. There was a +good business to be done at Friar’s Oak from the passing +traffic and the Sussex farmers, so that he soon became the +richest of the villagers; and he came to church on a Sunday with +his wife and his nephew, looking as respectable a family man as +one would wish to see.</p> +<p>He was not a tall man, not more than five feet seven inches, +and it was often said that if he had had an extra inch of reach +he would have been a match for Jackson or Belcher at their +best. His chest was like a barrel, and his forearms were +the most powerful that I have ever seen, with deep groves between +the smooth-swelling muscles like a piece of water-worn +rock. In spite of his strength, however, he was of a slow, +orderly, and kindly disposition, so that there was no man more +beloved over the whole country side. His heavy, placid, +clean-shaven face could set very sternly, as I have seen upon +occasion; but for me and every child in the village there was +ever a smile upon his lips and a greeting in his eyes. +There was not a beggar upon the country side who did not know +that his heart was as soft as his muscles were hard.</p> +<p>There was nothing that he liked to talk of more than his old +battles, but he would stop if he saw his little wife coming, for +the one great shadow in her life was the ever-present fear that +some day he would throw down sledge and rasp and be off to the +ring once more. And you must be reminded here once for all +that that former calling of his was by no means at that time in +the debased condition to which it afterwards fell. Public +opinion has gradually become opposed to it, for the reason that +it came largely into the hands of rogues, and because it fostered +ringside ruffianism. Even the honest and brave pugilist was +found to draw villainy round him, just as the pure and noble +racehorse does. For this reason the Ring is dying in +England, and we may hope that when Caunt and Bendigo have passed +away, they may have none to succeed them. But it was +different in the days of which I speak. Public opinion was +then largely in its favour, and there were good reasons why it +should be so. It was a time of war, when England with an +army and navy composed only of those who volunteered to fight +because they had fighting blood in them, had to encounter, as +they would now have to encounter, a power which could by despotic +law turn every citizen into a soldier. If the people had +not been full of this lust for combat, it is certain that England +must have been overborne. And it was thought, and is, on +the face of it, reasonable, that a struggle between two +indomitable men, with thirty thousand to view it and three +million to discuss it, did help to set a standard of hardihood +and endurance. Brutal it was, no doubt, and its brutality +is the end of it; but it is not so brutal as war, which will +survive it. Whether it is logical now to teach the people +to be peaceful in an age when their very existence may come to +depend upon their being warlike, is a question for wiser heads +than mine. But that was what we thought of it in the days +of your grandfathers, and that is why you might find statesmen +and philanthropists like Windham, Fox, and Althorp at the side of +the Ring.</p> +<p>The mere fact that solid men should patronize it was enough in +itself to prevent the villainy which afterwards crept in. +For over twenty years, in the days of Jackson, Brain, Cribb, the +Belchers, Pearce, Gully, and the rest, the leaders of the Ring +were men whose honesty was above suspicion; and those were just +the twenty years when the Ring may, as I have said, have served a +national purpose. You have heard how Pearce saved the +Bristol girl from the burning house, how Jackson won the respect +and friendship of the best men of his age, and how Gully rose to +a seat in the first Reformed Parliament. These were the men +who set the standard, and their trade carried with it this +obvious recommendation, that it is one in which no drunken or +foul-living man could long succeed. There were exceptions +among them, no doubt—bullies like Hickman and brutes like +Berks; in the main, I say again that they were honest men, brave +and enduring to an incredible degree, and a credit to the country +which produced them. It was, as you will see, my fate to +see something of them, and I speak of what I know.</p> +<p>In our own village, I can assure you that we were very proud +of the presence of such a man as Champion Harrison, and if folks +stayed at the inn, they would walk down as far as the smithy just +to have the sight of him. And he was worth seeing, too, +especially on a winter’s night when the red glare of the +forge would beat upon his great muscles and upon the proud, +hawk-face of Boy Jim as they heaved and swayed over some glowing +plough coulter, framing themselves in sparks with every +blow. He would strike once with his thirty-pound swing +sledge, and Jim twice with his hand hammer; and the +“Clunk—clink, clink! clunk—clink, clink!” +would bring me flying down the village street, on the chance +that, since they were both at the anvil, there might be a place +for me at the bellows.</p> +<p>Only once during those village years can I remember Champion +Harrison showing me for an instant the sort of man that he had +been. It chanced one summer morning, when Boy Jim and I +were standing by the smithy door, that there came a private coach +from Brighton, with its four fresh horses, and its brass-work +shining, flying along with such a merry rattle and jingling, that +the Champion came running out with a hall-fullered shoe in his +tongs to have a look at it. A gentleman in a white +coachman’s cape—a Corinthian, as we would call him in +those days—was driving, and half a dozen of his fellows, +laughing and shouting, were on the top behind him. It may +have been that the bulk of the smith caught his eye, and that he +acted in pure wantonness, or it may possibly have been an +accident, but, as he swung past, the twenty-foot thong of the +driver’s whip hissed round, and we heard the sharp snap of +it across Harrison’s leather apron.</p> +<p>“Halloa, master!” shouted the smith, looking after +him. “You’re not to be trusted on the box until +you can handle your whip better’n that.”</p> +<p>“What’s that?” cried the driver, pulling up +his team.</p> +<p>“I bid you have a care, master, or there will be some +one-eyed folk along the road you drive.”</p> +<p>“Oh, you say that, do you?” said the driver, +putting his whip into its socket and pulling off his +driving-gloves. “I’ll have a little talk with +you, my fine fellow.”</p> +<p>The sporting gentlemen of those days were very fine boxers for +the most part, for it was the mode to take a course of Mendoza, +just as a few years afterwards there was no man about town who +had not had the mufflers on with Jackson. Knowing their own +prowess, they never refused the chance of a wayside adventure, +and it was seldom indeed that the bargee or the navigator had +much to boast of after a young blood had taken off his coat to +him.</p> +<p>This one swung himself off the box-seat with the alacrity of a +man who has no doubts about the upshot of the quarrel, and after +hanging his caped coat upon the swingle-bar, he daintily turned +up the ruffled cuffs of his white cambric shirt.</p> +<p>“I’ll pay you for your advice, my man,” said +he.</p> +<p>I am sure that the men upon the coach knew who the burly smith +was, and looked upon it as a prime joke to see their companion +walk into such a trap. They roared with delight, and +bellowed out scraps of advice to him.</p> +<p>“Knock some of the soot off him, Lord Frederick!” +they shouted. “Give the Johnny Raw his +breakfast. Chuck him in among his own cinders! +Sharp’s the word, or you’ll see the back of +him.”</p> +<p>Encouraged by these cries, the young aristocrat advanced upon +his man. The smith never moved, but his mouth set grim and +hard, while his tufted brows came down over his keen, grey +eyes. The tongs had fallen, and his hands were hanging +free.</p> +<p>“Have a care, master,” said he. +“You’ll get pepper if you don’t.”</p> +<p>Something in the assured voice, and something also in the +quiet pose, warned the young lord of his danger. I saw him +look hard at his antagonist, and as he did so, his hands and his +jaw dropped together.</p> +<p>“By Gad!” he cried, “it’s Jack +Harrison!”</p> +<p>“My name, master!”</p> +<p>“And I thought you were some Essex chaw-bacon! +Why, man, I haven’t seen you since the day you nearly +killed Black Baruk, and cost me a cool hundred by doing +it.”</p> +<p>How they roared on the coach.</p> +<p>“Smoked! Smoked, by Gad!” they yelled. +“It’s Jack Harrison the bruiser! Lord Frederick +was going to take on the ex-champion. Give him one on the +apron, Fred, and see what happens.”</p> +<p>But the driver had already climbed back into his perch, +laughing as loudly as any of his companions.</p> +<p>“We’ll let you off this time, Harrison,” +said he. “Are those your sons down there?”</p> +<p>“This is my nephew, master.”</p> +<p>“Here’s a guinea for him! He shall never say +I robbed him of his uncle.” And so, having turned the +laugh in his favour by his merry way of taking it, he cracked his +whip, and away they flew to make London under the five hours; +while Jack Harrison, with his half-fullered shoe in his hand, +went whistling back to the forge.</p> +<h2><a name="page18"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +18</span>CHAPTER II.<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">THE WALKER OF CLIFFE ROYAL.</span></h2> +<p><span class="smcap">So</span> much for Champion +Harrison! Now, I wish to say something more about Boy Jim, +not only because he was the comrade of my youth, but because you +will find as you go on that this book is his story rather than +mine, and that there came a time when his name and his fame were +in the mouths of all England. You will bear with me, +therefore, while I tell you of his character as it was in those +days, and especially of one very singular adventure which neither +of us are likely to forget.</p> +<p>It was strange to see Jim with his uncle and his aunt, for he +seemed to be of another race and breed to them. Often I +have watched them come up the aisle upon a Sunday, first the +square, thick-set man, and then the little, worn, anxious-eyed +woman, and last this glorious lad with his clear-cut face, his +black curls, and his step so springy and light that it seemed as +if he were bound to earth by some lesser tie than the +heavy-footed villagers round him. He had not yet attained +his full six foot of stature, but no judge of a man (and every +woman, at least, is one) could look at his perfect shoulders, his +narrow loins, and his proud head that sat upon his neck like an +eagle upon its perch, without feeling that sober joy which all +that is beautiful in Nature gives to us—a vague +self-content, as though in some way we also had a hand in the +making of it.</p> +<p>But we are used to associate beauty with softness in a +man. I do not know why they should be so coupled, and they +never were with Jim. Of all men that I have known, he was +the most iron-hard in body and in mind. Who was there among +us who could walk with him, or run with him, or swim with +him? Who on all the country side, save only Boy Jim, would +have swung himself over Wolstonbury Cliff, and clambered down a +hundred feet with the mother hawk flapping at his ears in the +vain struggle to hold him from her nest? He was but +sixteen, with his gristle not yet all set into bone, when he +fought and beat Gipsy Lee, of Burgess Hill, who called himself +the “Cock of the South Downs.” It was after +this that Champion Harrison took his training as a boxer in +hand.</p> +<p>“I’d rather you left millin’ alone, Boy +Jim,” said he, “and so had the missus; but if mill +you must, it will not be my fault if you cannot hold up your +hands to anything in the south country.”</p> +<p>And it was not long before he made good his promise.</p> +<p>I have said already that Boy Jim had no love for his books, +but by that I meant school-books, for when it came to the reading +of romances or of anything which had a touch of gallantry or +adventure, there was no tearing him away from it until it was +finished. When such a book came into his hands, +Friar’s Oak and the smithy became a dream to him, and his +life was spent out upon the ocean or wandering over the broad +continents with his heroes. And he would draw me into his +enthusiasms also, so that I was glad to play Friday to his Crusoe +when he proclaimed that the Clump at Clayton was a desert island, +and that we were cast upon it for a week. But when I found +that we were actually to sleep out there without covering every +night, and that he proposed that our food should be the sheep of +the Downs (wild goats he called them) cooked upon a fire, which +was to be made by the rubbing together of two sticks, my heart +failed me, and on the very first night I crept away to my +mother. But Jim stayed out there for the whole weary +week—a wet week it was, too!—and came back at the end +of it looking a deal wilder and dirtier than his hero does in the +picture-books. It is well that he had only promised to stay +a week, for, if it had been a month, he would have died of cold +and hunger before his pride would have let him come home.</p> +<p>His pride!—that was the deepest thing in all Jim’s +nature. It is a mixed quality to my mind, half a virtue and +half a vice: a virtue in holding a man out of the dirt; a vice in +making it hard for him to rise when once he has fallen. Jim +was proud down to the very marrow of his bones. You +remember the guinea that the young lord had thrown him from the +box of the coach? Two days later somebody picked it from +the roadside mud. Jim only had seen where it had fallen, +and he would not deign even to point it out to a beggar. +Nor would he stoop to give a reason in such a case, but would +answer all remonstrances with a curl of his lip and a flash of +his dark eyes. Even at school he was the same, with such a +sense of his own dignity, that other folk had to think of it +too. He might say, as he did say, that a right angle was a +proper sort of angle, or put Panama in Sicily, but old Joshua +Allen would as soon have thought of raising his cane against him +as he would of letting me off if I had said as much. And so +it was that, although Jim was the son of nobody, and I of a +King’s officer, it always seemed to me to have been a +condescension on his part that he should have chosen me as his +friend.</p> +<p>It was this pride of Boy Jim’s which led to an adventure +which makes me shiver now when I think of it.</p> +<p>It happened in the August of ’99, or it may have been in +the early days of September; but I remember that we heard the +cuckoo in Patcham Wood, and that Jim said that perhaps it was the +last of him. I was still at school, but Jim had left, he +being nigh sixteen and I thirteen. It was my Saturday +half-holiday, and we spent it, as we often did, out upon the +Downs. Our favourite place was beyond Wolstonbury, where we +could stretch ourselves upon the soft, springy, chalk grass among +the plump little Southdown sheep, chatting with the shepherds, as +they leaned upon their queer old Pyecombe crooks, made in the +days when Sussex turned out more iron than all the counties of +England.</p> +<p>It was there that we lay upon that glorious afternoon. +If we chose to roll upon our right sides, the whole weald lay in +front of us, with the North Downs curving away in olive-green +folds, with here and there the snow-white rift of a chalk-pit; if +we turned upon our left, we overlooked the huge blue stretch of +the Channel. A convoy, as I can well remember, was coming +up it that day, the timid flock of merchantmen in front; the +frigates, like well-trained dogs, upon the skirts; and two burly +drover line-of-battle ships rolling along behind them. My +fancy was soaring out to my father upon the waters, when a word +from Jim brought it back on to the grass like a broken-winged +gull.</p> +<p>“Roddy,” said he, “have you heard that +Cliffe Royal is haunted?”</p> +<p>Had I heard it? Of course I had heard it. Who was +there in all the Down country who had not heard of the Walker of +Cliffe Royal?</p> +<p>“Do you know the story of it, Roddy?”</p> +<p>“Why,” said I, with some pride, “I ought to +know it, seeing that my mother’s brother, Sir Charles +Tregellis, was the nearest friend of Lord Avon, and was at this +card-party when the thing happened. I heard the vicar and +my mother talking about it last week, and it was all so clear to +me that I might have been there when the murder was +done.”</p> +<p>“It is a strange story,” said Jim, thoughtfully; +“but when I asked my aunt about it, she would give me no +answer; and as to my uncle, he cut me short at the very mention +of it.”</p> +<p>“There is a good reason for that,” said I, +“for Lord Avon was, as I have heard, your uncle’s +best friend; and it is but natural that he would not wish to +speak of his disgrace.”</p> +<p>“Tell me the story, Roddy.”</p> +<p>“It is an old one now—fourteen years old—and +yet they have not got to the end of it. There were four of +them who had come down from London to spend a few days in Lord +Avon’s old house. One was his own young brother, +Captain Barrington; another was his cousin, Sir Lothian Hume; Sir +Charles Tregellis, my uncle, was the third; and Lord Avon the +fourth. They are fond of playing cards for money, these +great people, and they played and played for two days and a +night. Lord Avon lost, and Sir Lothian lost, and my uncle +lost, and Captain Barrington won until he could win no +more. He won their money, but above all he won papers from +his elder brother which meant a great deal to him. It was +late on a Monday night that they stopped playing. On the +Tuesday morning Captain Barrington was found dead beside his bed +with his throat cut.</p> +<p>“And Lord Avon did it?”</p> +<p>“His papers were found burned in the grate, his +wristband was clutched in the dead man’s hand, and his +knife lay beside the body.”</p> +<p>“Did they hang him, then?”</p> +<p>“They were too slow in laying hands upon him. He +waited until he saw that they had brought it home to him, and +then he fled. He has never been seen since, but it is said +that he reached America.”</p> +<p>“And the ghost walks?”</p> +<p>“There are many who have seen it.”</p> +<p>“Why is the house still empty?”</p> +<p>“Because it is in the keeping of the law. Lord +Avon had no children, and Sir Lothian Hume—the same who was +at the card-party—is his nephew and heir. But he can +touch nothing until he can prove Lord Avon to be dead.”</p> +<p>Jim lay silent for a bit, plucking at the short grass with his +fingers.</p> +<p>“Roddy,” said he at last, “will you come +with me to-night and look for the ghost?”</p> +<p>It turned me cold, the very thought of it.</p> +<p>“My mother would not let me.”</p> +<p>“Slip out when she’s abed. I’ll wait +for you at the smithy.”</p> +<p>“Cliffe Royal is locked.”</p> +<p>“I’ll open a window easy enough.”</p> +<p>“I’m afraid, Jim.”</p> +<p>“But you are not afraid if you are with me, Roddy. +I’ll promise you that no ghost shall hurt you.”</p> +<p>So I gave him my word that I would come, and then all the rest +of the day I went about the most sad-faced lad in Sussex. +It was all very well for Boy Jim! It was that pride of his +which was taking him there. He would go because there was +no one else on the country side that would dare. But I had +no pride of that sort. I was quite of the same way of +thinking as the others, and would as soon have thought of passing +my night at Jacob’s gibbet on Ditchling Common as in the +haunted house of Cliffe Royal. Still, I could not bring +myself to desert Jim; and so, as I say, I slunk about the house +with so pale and peaky a face that my dear mother would have it +that I had been at the green apples, and sent me to bed early +with a dish of camomile tea for my supper.</p> +<p>England went to rest betimes in those days, for there were few +who could afford the price of candles. When I looked out of +my window just after the clock had gone ten, there was not a +light in the village save only at the inn. It was but a few +feet from the ground, so I slipped out, and there was Jim waiting +for me at the smithy corner. We crossed John’s Common +together, and so past Ridden’s Farm, meeting only one or +two riding officers upon the way. There was a brisk wind +blowing, and the moon kept peeping through the rifts of the scud, +so that our road was sometimes silver-clear, and sometimes so +black that we found ourselves among the brambles and gorse-bushes +which lined it. We came at last to the wooden gate with the +high stone pillars by the roadside, and, looking through between +the rails, we saw the long avenue of oaks, and at the end of this +ill-boding tunnel, the pale face of the house glimmered in the +moonshine.</p> +<p>That would have been enough for me, that one glimpse of it, +and the sound of the night wind sighing and groaning among the +branches. But Jim swung the gate open, and up we went, the +gravel squeaking beneath our tread. It towered high, the +old house, with many little windows in which the moon glinted, +and with a strip of water running round three sides of it. +The arched door stood right in the face of us, and on one side a +lattice hung open upon its hinges.</p> +<p>“We’re in luck, Roddy,” whispered Jim. +“Here’s one of the windows open.”</p> +<p>“Don’t you think we’ve gone far enough, +Jim?” said I, with my teeth chattering.</p> +<p>“I’ll lift you in first.”</p> +<p>“No, no, I’ll not go first.”</p> +<p>“Then I will.” He gripped the sill, and had +his knee on it in an instant. “Now, Roddy, give me +your hands.” With a pull he had me up beside him, and +a moment later we were both in the haunted house.</p> +<p>How hollow it sounded when we jumped down on to the wooden +floor! There was such a sudden boom and reverberation that +we both stood silent for a moment. Then Jim burst out +laughing.</p> +<p>“What an old drum of a place it is!” he cried; +“we’ll strike a light, Roddy, and see where we +are.”</p> +<p>He had brought a candle and a tinder-box in his pocket. +When the flame burned up, we saw an arched stone roof above our +heads, and broad deal shelves all round us covered with dusty +dishes. It was the pantry.</p> +<p>“I’ll show you round,” said Jim, merrily; +and, pushing the door open, he led the way into the hall. I +remember the high, oak-panelled walls, with the heads of deer +jutting out, and a single white bust, which sent my heart into my +mouth, in the corner. Many rooms opened out of this, and we +wandered from one to the other—the kitchens, the +still-room, the morning-room, the dining-room, all filled with +the same choking smell of dust and of mildew.</p> +<p>“This is where they played the cards, Jim,” said +I, in a hushed voice. “It was on that very +table.”</p> +<p>“Why, here are the cards themselves!” cried he; +and he pulled a brown towel from something in the centre of the +sideboard. Sure enough it was a pile of +playing-cards—forty packs, I should think, at the +least—which had lain there ever since that tragic game +which was played before I was born.</p> +<p>“I wonder whence that stair leads?” said Jim.</p> +<p>“Don’t go up there, Jim!” I cried, clutching +at his arm. “That must lead to the room of the +murder.”</p> +<p>“How do you know that?”</p> +<p>“The vicar said that they saw on the ceiling—Oh, +Jim, you can see it even now!”</p> +<p>He held up his candle, and there was a great, dark smudge upon +the white plaster above us.</p> +<p>“I believe you’re right,” said he; +“but anyhow I’m going to have a look at +it.”</p> +<p>“Don’t, Jim, don’t!” I cried.</p> +<p>“Tut, Roddy! you can stay here if you are afraid. +I won’t be more than a minute. There’s no use +going on a ghost hunt unless—Great Lord, there’s +something coming down the stairs!”</p> +<p>I heard it too—a shuffling footstep in the room above, +and then a creak from the steps, and then another creak, and +another. I saw Jim’s face as if it had been carved +out of ivory, with his parted lips and his staring eyes fixed +upon the black square of the stair opening. He still held +the light, but his fingers twitched, and with every twitch the +shadows sprang from the walls to the ceiling. As to myself, +my knees gave way under me, and I found myself on the floor +crouching down behind Jim, with a scream frozen in my +throat. And still the step came slowly from stair to +stair.</p> +<p>Then, hardly daring to look and yet unable to turn away my +eyes, I saw a figure dimly outlined in the corner upon which the +stair opened. There was a silence in which I could hear my +poor heart thumping, and then when I looked again the figure was +gone, and the low creak, creak was heard once more upon the +stairs. Jim sprang after it, and I was left half-fainting +in the moonlight.</p> +<p>But it was not for long. He was down again in a minute, +and, passing his hand under my arm, he half led and half carried +me out of the house. It was not until we were in the fresh +night air again that he opened his mouth.</p> +<p>“Can you stand, Roddy?”</p> +<p>“Yes, but I’m shaking.”</p> +<p>“So am I,” said he, passing his hand over his +forehead. “I ask your pardon, Roddy. I was a +fool to bring you on such an errand. But I never believed +in such things. I know better now.”</p> +<p>“Could it have been a man, Jim?” I asked, plucking +up my courage now that I could hear the dogs barking on the +farms.</p> +<p>“It was a spirit, Rodney.”</p> +<p>“How do you know?”</p> +<p>“Because I followed it and saw it vanish into a wall, as +easily as an eel into sand. Why, Roddy, what’s amiss +now?”</p> +<p>My fears were all back upon me, and every nerve creeping with +horror.</p> +<p>“Take me away, Jim! Take me away!” I +cried.</p> +<p>I was glaring down the avenue, and his eyes followed +mine. Amid the gloom of the oak trees something was coming +towards us.</p> +<p>“Quiet, Roddy!” whispered Jim. “By +heavens, come what may, my arms are going round it this +time.”</p> +<p>We crouched as motionless as the trunks behind us. Heavy +steps ploughed their way through the soft gravel, and a broad +figure loomed upon us in the darkness.</p> +<p>Jim sprang upon it like a tiger.</p> +<p>“<i>You’re</i> not a spirit, anyway!” he +cried.</p> +<p>The man gave a shout of surprise, and then a growl of +rage.</p> +<p>“What the deuce!” he roared, and then, +“I’ll break your neck if you don’t let +go.”</p> +<p>The threat might not have loosened Jim’s grip, but the +voice did.</p> +<p>“Why, uncle!” he cried.</p> +<p>“Well, I’m blessed if it isn’t Boy +Jim! And what’s this? Why, it’s young +Master Rodney Stone, as I’m a living sinner! What in +the world are you two doing up at Cliffe Royal at this time of +night?”</p> +<p>We had all moved out into the moonlight, and there was +Champion Harrison with a big bundle on his arm,—and such a +look of amazement upon his face as would have brought a smile +back on to mine had my heart not still been cramped with +fear.</p> +<p>“We’re exploring,” said Jim.</p> +<p>“Exploring, are you? Well, I don’t think you +were meant to be Captain Cooks, either of you, for I never saw +such a pair of peeled-turnip faces. Why, Jim, what are you +afraid of?”</p> +<p>“I’m not afraid, uncle. I never was afraid; +but spirits are new to me, and—”</p> +<p>“Spirits?”</p> +<p>“I’ve been in Cliffe Royal, and we’ve seen +the ghost.”</p> +<p>The Champion gave a whistle.</p> +<p>“That’s the game, is it?” said he. +“Did you have speech with it?”</p> +<p>“It vanished first.”</p> +<p>The Champion whistled once more.</p> +<p>“I’ve heard there is something of the sort up +yonder,” said he; “but it’s not a thing as I +would advise you to meddle with. There’s enough +trouble with the folk of this world, Boy Jim, without going out +of your way to mix up with those of another. As to young +Master Rodney Stone, if his good mother saw that white face of +his, she’d never let him come to the smithy more. +Walk slowly on, and I’ll see you back to Friar’s +Oak.”</p> +<p>We had gone half a mile, perhaps, when the Champion overtook +us, and I could not but observe that the bundle was no longer +under his arm. We were nearly at the smithy before Jim +asked the question which was already in my mind.</p> +<p>“What took <i>you</i> up to Cliffe Royal, +uncle?”</p> +<p>“Well, as a man gets on in years,” said the +Champion, “there’s many a duty turns up that the +likes of you have no idea of. When you’re near forty +yourself, you’ll maybe know the truth of what I +say.”</p> +<p>So that was all we could draw from him; but, young as I was, I +had heard of coast smuggling and of packages carried to lonely +places at night, so that from that time on, if I had heard that +the preventives had made a capture, I was never easy until I saw +the jolly face of Champion Harrison looking out of his smithy +door.</p> +<h2><a name="page33"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +33</span>CHAPTER III.<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">THE PLAY-ACTRESS OF ANSTEY +CROSS.</span></h2> +<p>I <span class="smcap">have</span> told you something about +Friar’s Oak, and about the life that we led there. +Now that my memory goes back to the old place it would gladly +linger, for every thread which I draw from the skein of the past +brings out half a dozen others that were entangled with it. +I was in two minds when I began whether I had enough in me to +make a book of, and now I know that I could write one about +Friar’s Oak alone, and the folk whom I knew in my +childhood. They were hard and uncouth, some of them, I +doubt not; and yet, seen through the golden haze of time, they +all seem sweet and lovable. There was our good vicar, Mr. +Jefferson, who loved the whole world save only Mr. Slack, the +Baptist minister of Clayton; and there was kindly Mr. Slack, who +was all men’s brother save only of Mr. Jefferson, the vicar +of Friar’s Oak. Then there was Monsieur Rudin, the +French Royalist refugee who lived over on the Pangdean road, and +who, when the news of a victory came in, was convulsed with joy +because we had beaten Buonaparte, and shaken with rage because we +had beaten the French, so that after the Nile he wept for a whole +day out of delight and then for another one out of fury, +alternately clapping his hands and stamping his feet. Well +I remember his thin, upright figure and the way in which he +jauntily twirled his little cane; for cold and hunger could not +cast him down, though we knew that he had his share of +both. Yet he was so proud and had such a grand manner of +talking, that no one dared to offer him a cloak or a meal. +I can see his face now, with a flush over each craggy cheek-bone +when the butcher made him the present of some ribs of beef. +He could not but take it, and yet whilst he was stalking off he +threw a proud glance over his shoulder at the butcher, and he +said, “Monsieur, I have a dog!” Yet it was +Monsieur Rudin and not his dog who looked plumper for a week to +come.</p> +<p>Then I remember Mr. Paterson, the farmer, who was what you +would now call a Radical, though at that time some called him a +Priestley-ite, and some a Fox-ite, and nearly everybody a +traitor. It certainly seemed to me at the time to be very +wicked that a man should look glum when he heard of a British +victory; and when they burned his straw image at the gate of his +farm, Boy Jim and I were among those who lent a hand. But +we were bound to confess that he was game, though he might be a +traitor, for down he came, striding into the midst of us with his +brown coat and his buckled shoes, and the fire beating upon his +grim, schoolmaster face. My word, how he rated us, and how +glad we were at last to sneak quietly away.</p> +<p>“You livers of a lie!” said he. “You +and those like you have been preaching peace for nigh two +thousand years, and cutting throats the whole time. If the +money that is lost in taking French lives were spent in saving +English ones, you would have more right to burn candles in your +windows. Who are you that dare to come here to insult a +law-abiding man?”</p> +<p>“We are the people of England!” cried young Master +Ovington, the son of the Tory Squire.</p> +<p>“You! you horse-racing, cock-fighting +ne’er-do-weel! Do you presume to talk for the people +of England? They are a deep, strong, silent stream, and you +are the scum, the bubbles, the poor, silly froth that floats upon +the surface.”</p> +<p>We thought him very wicked then, but, looking back, I am not +sure that we were not very wicked ourselves.</p> +<p>And then there were the smugglers! The Downs swarmed +with them, for since there might be no lawful trade betwixt +France and England, it had all to run in that channel. I +have been up on St. John’s Common upon a dark night, and, +lying among the bracken, I have seen as many as seventy mules and +a man at the head of each go flitting past me as silently as +trout in a stream. Not one of them but bore its two ankers +of the right French cognac, or its bale of silk of Lyons and lace +of Valenciennes. I knew Dan Scales, the head of them, and I +knew Tom Hislop, the riding officer, and I remember the night +they met.</p> +<p>“Do you fight, Dan?” asked Tom.</p> +<p>“Yes, Tom; thou must fight for it.”</p> +<p>On which Tom drew his pistol, and blew Dan’s brains +out.</p> +<p>“It was a sad thing to do,” he said afterwards, +“but I knew Dan was too good a man for me, for we tried it +out before.”</p> +<p>It was Tom who paid a poet from Brighton to write the lines +for the tombstone, which we all thought were very true and good, +beginning—</p> +<p class="poetry">“Alas! Swift flew the fatal lead<br +/> +Which piercéd through the young man’s head.<br /> +He instantly fell, resigned his breath,<br /> +And closed his languid eyes in death.”</p> +<p>There was more of it, and I dare say it is all still to be +read in Patcham Churchyard.</p> +<p>One day, about the time of our Cliffe Royal adventure, I was +seated in the cottage looking round at the curios which my father +had fastened on to the walls, and wishing, like the lazy lad that +I was, that Mr. Lilly had died before ever he wrote his Latin +grammar, when my mother, who was sitting knitting in the window, +gave a little cry of surprise.</p> +<p>“Good gracious!” she cried. “What a +vulgar-looking woman!”</p> +<p>It was so rare to hear my mother say a hard word against +anybody (unless it were General Buonaparte) that I was across the +room and at the window in a jump. A pony-chaise was coming +slowly down the village street, and in it was the +queerest-looking person that I had ever seen. She was very +stout, with a face that was of so dark a red that it shaded away +into purple over the nose and cheeks. She wore a great hat +with a white curling ostrich feather, and from under its brim her +two bold, black eyes stared out with a look of anger and defiance +as if to tell the folk that she thought less of them than they +could do of her. She had some sort of scarlet pelisse with +white swans-down about her neck, and she held the reins slack in +her hands, while the pony wandered from side to side of the road +as the fancy took him. Each time the chaise swayed, her +head with the great hat swayed also, so that sometimes we saw the +crown of it and sometimes the brim.</p> +<p>“What a dreadful sight!” cried my mother.</p> +<p>“What is amiss with her, mother?”</p> +<p>“Heaven forgive me if I misjudge her, Rodney, but I +think that the unfortunate woman has been drinking.”</p> +<p>“Why,” I cried, “she has pulled the chaise +up at the smithy. I’ll find out all the news for +you;” and, catching up my cap, away I scampered.</p> +<p>Champion Harrison had been shoeing a horse at the forge door, +and when I got into the street I could see him with the +creature’s hoof still under his arm, and the rasp in his +hand, kneeling down amid the white parings. The woman was +beckoning him from the chaise, and he staring up at her with the +queerest expression upon his face. Presently he threw down +his rasp and went across to her, standing by the wheel and +shaking his head as he talked to her. For my part, I +slipped into the smithy, where Boy Jim was finishing the shoe, +and I watched the neatness of his work and the deft way in which +he turned up the caulkens. When he had done with it he +carried it out, and there was the strange woman still talking +with his uncle.</p> +<p>“Is that he?” I heard her ask.</p> +<p>Champion Harrison nodded.</p> +<p>She looked at Jim, and I never saw such eyes in a human head, +so large, and black, and wonderful. Boy as I was, I knew +that, in spite of that bloated face, this woman had once been +very beautiful. She put out a hand, with all the fingers +going as if she were playing on the harpsichord, and she touched +Jim on the shoulder.</p> +<p>“I hope—I hope you’re well,” she +stammered.</p> +<p>“Very well, ma’am,” said Jim, staring from +her to his uncle.</p> +<p>“And happy too?”</p> +<p>“Yes, ma’am, I thank you.”</p> +<p>“Nothing that you crave for?”</p> +<p>“Why, no, ma’am, I have all that I +lack.”</p> +<p>“That will do, Jim,” said his uncle, in a stern +voice. “Blow up the forge again, for that shoe wants +reheating.”</p> +<p>But it seemed as if the woman had something else that she +would say, for she was angry that he should be sent away. +Her eyes gleamed, and her head tossed, while the smith with his +two big hands outspread seemed to be soothing her as best he +could. For a long time they whispered until at last she +appeared to be satisfied.</p> +<p>“To-morrow, then?” she cried out loud.</p> +<p>“To-morrow,” he answered.</p> +<p>“You keep your word and I’ll keep mine,” +said she, and dropped the lash on the pony’s back. +The smith stood with the rasp in his hand, looking after her +until she was just a little red spot on the white road. +Then he turned, and I never saw his face so grave.</p> +<p>“Jim,” said he, “that’s Miss Hinton, +who has come to live at The Maples, out Anstey Cross way. +She’s taken a kind of a fancy to you, Jim, and maybe she +can help you on a bit. I promised her that you would go +over and see her to-morrow.”</p> +<p>“I don’t want her help, uncle, and I don’t +want to see her.”</p> +<p>“But I’ve promised, Jim, and you wouldn’t +make me out a liar. She does but want to talk with you, for +it is a lonely life she leads.”</p> +<p>“What would she want to talk with such as me +about?”</p> +<p>“Why, I cannot say that, but she seemed very set upon +it, and women have their fancies. There’s young +Master Stone here who wouldn’t refuse to go and see a good +lady, I’ll warrant, if he thought he might better his +fortune by doing so.”</p> +<p>“Well, uncle, I’ll go if Roddy Stone will go with +me,” said Jim.</p> +<p>“Of course he’ll go. Won’t you, Master +Rodney?”</p> +<p>So it ended in my saying “yes,” and back I went +with all my news to my mother, who dearly loved a little bit of +gossip. She shook her head when she heard where I was +going, but she did not say nay, and so it was settled.</p> +<p>It was a good four miles of a walk, but when we reached it you +would not wish to see a more cosy little house: all honeysuckle +and creepers, with a wooden porch and lattice windows. A +common-looking woman opened the door for us.</p> +<p>“Miss Hinton cannot see you,” said she.</p> +<p>“But she asked us to come,” said Jim.</p> +<p>“I can’t help that,” cried the woman, in a +rude voice. “I tell you that she can’t see +you.”</p> +<p>We stood irresolute for a minute.</p> +<p>“Maybe you would just tell her I am here,” said +Jim, at last.</p> +<p>“Tell her! How am I to tell her when she +couldn’t so much as hear a pistol in her ears? Try +and tell her yourself, if you have a mind to.”</p> +<p>She threw open a door as she spoke, and there, in a reclining +chair at the further end of the room, we caught a glimpse of a +figure all lumped together, huge and shapeless, with tails of +black hair hanging down.</p> +<p>The sound of dreadful, swine-like breathing fell upon our +ears. It was but a glance, and then we were off hot-foot +for home. As for me, I was so young that I was not sure +whether this was funny or terrible; but when I looked at Jim to +see how he took it, he was looking quite white and ill.</p> +<p>“You’ll not tell any one, Roddy,” said +he.</p> +<p>“Not unless it’s my mother.”</p> +<p>“I won’t even tell my uncle. I’ll say +she was ill, the poor lady! it’s enough that we should have +seen her in her shame, without its being the gossip of the +village. It makes me feel sick and heavy at +heart.”</p> +<p>“She was so yesterday, Jim.”</p> +<p>“Was she? I never marked it. But I know that +she has kind eyes and a kind heart, for I saw the one in the +other when she looked at me. Maybe it’s the want of a +friend that has driven her to this.”</p> +<p>It blighted his spirits for days, and when it had all gone +from my mind it was brought back to me by his manner. But +it was not to be our last memory of the lady with the scarlet +pelisse, for before the week was out Jim came round to ask me if +I would again go up with him.</p> +<p>“My uncle has had a letter,” said he. +“She would speak with me, and I would be easier if you came +with me, Rod.”</p> +<p>For me it was only a pleasure outing, but I could see, as we +drew near the house, that Jim was troubling in his mind lest we +should find that things were amiss.</p> +<p>His fears were soon set at rest, however, for we had scarce +clicked the garden gate before the woman was out of the door of +the cottage and running down the path to meet us. She was +so strange a figure, with some sort of purple wrapper on, and her +big, flushed face smiling out of it, that I might, if I had been +alone, have taken to my heels at the sight of her. Even Jim +stopped for a moment as if he were not very sure of himself, but +her hearty ways soon set us at our ease.</p> +<p>“It is indeed good of you to come and see an old, lonely +woman,” said she, “and I owe you an apology that I +should give you a fruitless journey on Tuesday, but in a sense +you were yourselves the cause of it, since the thought of your +coming had excited me, and any excitement throws me into a +nervous fever. My poor nerves! You can see for +yourselves how they serve me.”</p> +<p>She held out her twitching hands as she spoke. Then she +passed one of them through Jim’s arm, and walked with him +up the path.</p> +<p>“You must let me know you, and know you well,” +said she. “Your uncle and aunt are quite old +acquaintances of mine, and though you cannot remember me, I have +held you in my arms when you were an infant. Tell me, +little man,” she added, turning to me, “what do you +call your friend?”</p> +<p>“Boy Jim, ma’am,” said I.</p> +<p>“Then if you will not think me forward, I will call you +Boy Jim also. We elderly people have our privileges, you +know. And now you shall come in with me, and we will take a +dish of tea together.”</p> +<p>She led the way into a cosy room—the same which we had +caught a glimpse of when last we came—and there, in the +middle, was a table with white napery, and shining glass, and +gleaming china, and red-cheeked apples piled upon a centre-dish, +and a great plateful of smoking muffins which the cross-faced +maid had just carried in. You can think that we did justice +to all the good things, and Miss Hinton would ever keep pressing +us to pass our cup and to fill our plate. Twice during our +meal she rose from her chair and withdrew into a cupboard at the +end of the room, and each time I saw Jim’s face cloud, for +we heard a gentle clink of glass against glass.</p> +<p>“Come now, little man,” said she to me, when the +table had been cleared. “Why are you looking round so +much?”</p> +<p>“Because there are so many pretty things upon the +walls.”</p> +<p>“And which do you think the prettiest of +them?”</p> +<p>“Why, that!” said I, pointing to a picture which +hung opposite to me. It was of a tall and slender girl, +with the rosiest cheeks and the tenderest eyes—so daintily +dressed, too, that I had never seen anything more perfect. +She had a posy of flowers in her hand and another one was lying +upon the planks of wood upon which she was standing.</p> +<p>“Oh, that’s the prettiest, is it?” said she, +laughing. “Well, now, walk up to it, and let us hear +what is writ beneath it.”</p> +<p>I did as she asked, and read out: “Miss Polly Hinton, as +‘Peggy,’ in <i>The Country Wife</i>, played for her +benefit at the Haymarket Theatre, September 14th, +1782.”</p> +<p>“It’s a play-actress,” said I.</p> +<p>“Oh, you rude little boy, to say it in such a +tone,” said she; “as if a play-actress wasn’t +as good as any one else. Why, ’twas but the other day +that the Duke of Clarence, who may come to call himself King of +England, married Mrs. Jordan, who is herself only a +play-actress. And whom think you that this one +is?”</p> +<p>She stood under the picture with her arms folded across her +great body, and her big black eyes looking from one to the other +of us.</p> +<p>“Why, where are your eyes?” she cried at +last. “<i>I</i> was Miss Polly Hinton of the +Haymarket Theatre. And perhaps you never heard the name +before?”</p> +<p>We were compelled to confess that we never had. And the +very name of play-actress had filled us both with a kind of vague +horror, like the country-bred folk that we were. To us they +were a class apart, to be hinted at rather than named, with the +wrath of the Almighty hanging over them like a +thundercloud. Indeed, His judgments seemed to be in visible +operation before us when we looked upon what this woman was, and +what she had been.</p> +<p>“Well,” said she, laughing like one who is hurt, +“you have no cause to say anything, for I read on your face +what you have been taught to think of me. So this is the +upbringing that you have had, Jim—to think evil of that +which you do not understand! I wish you had been in the +theatre that very night with Prince Florizel and four Dukes in +the boxes, and all the wits and macaronis of London rising at me +in the pit. If Lord Avon had not given me a cast in his +carriage, I had never got my flowers back to my lodgings in York +Street, Westminster. And now two little country lads are +sitting in judgment upon me!”</p> +<p>Jim’s pride brought a flush on to his cheeks, for he did +not like to be called a country lad, or to have it supposed that +he was so far behind the grand folk in London.</p> +<p>“I have never been inside a play-house,” said he; +“I know nothing of them.”</p> +<p>“Nor I either.”</p> +<p>“Well,” said she, “I am not in voice, and it +is ill to play in a little room with but two to listen, but you +must conceive me to be the Queen of the Peruvians, who is +exhorting her countrymen to rise up against the Spaniards, who +are oppressing them.”</p> +<p>And straightway that coarse, swollen woman became a +queen—the grandest, haughtiest queen that you could dream +of—and she turned upon us with such words of fire, such +lightning eyes and sweeping of her white hand, that she held us +spellbound in our chairs. Her voice was soft and sweet, and +persuasive at the first, but louder it rang and louder as it +spoke of wrongs and freedom and the joys of death in a good +cause, until it thrilled into my every nerve, and I asked nothing +more than to run out of the cottage and to die then and there in +the cause of my country. And then in an instant she +changed. She was a poor woman now, who had lost her only +child, and who was bewailing it. Her voice was full of +tears, and what she said was so simple, so true, that we both +seemed to see the dead babe stretched there on the carpet before +us, and we could have joined in with words of pity and of +grief. And then, before our cheeks were dry, she was back +into her old self again.</p> +<p>“How like you that, then?” she cried. +“That was my way in the days when Sally Siddons would turn +green at the name of Polly Hinton. It’s a fine play, +is <i>Pizarro</i>.”</p> +<p>“And who wrote it, ma’am?”</p> +<p>“Who wrote it? I never heard. What matter +who did the writing of it! But there are some great lines +for one who knows how they should be spoken.”</p> +<p>“And you play no longer, ma’am?”</p> +<p>“No, Jim, I left the boards when—when I was weary +of them. But my heart goes back to them sometimes. It +seems to me there is no smell like that of the hot oil in the +footlights and of the oranges in the pit. But you are sad, +Jim.”</p> +<p>“It was but the thought of that poor woman and her +child.”</p> +<p>“Tut, never think about her! I will soon wipe her +from your mind. This is ‘Miss Priscilla +Tomboy,’ from <i>The Romp</i>. You must conceive that +the mother is speaking, and that the forward young minx is +answering.”</p> +<p>And she began a scene between the two of them, so exact in +voice and manner that it seemed to us as if there were really two +folk before us: the stern old mother with her hand up like an +ear-trumpet, and her flouncing, bouncing daughter. Her +great figure danced about with a wonderful lightness, and she +tossed her head and pouted her lips as she answered back to the +old, bent figure that addressed her. Jim and I had +forgotten our tears, and were holding our ribs before she came to +the end of it.</p> +<p>“That is better,” said she, smiling at our +laughter. “I would not have you go back to +Friar’s Oak with long faces, or maybe they would not let +you come to me again.”</p> +<p>She vanished into her cupboard, and came out with a bottle and +glass, which she placed upon the table.</p> +<p>“You are too young for strong waters,” she said, +“but this talking gives one a dryness, +and—”</p> +<p>Then it was that Boy Jim did a wonderful thing. He rose +from his chair, and he laid his hand upon the bottle.</p> +<p>“Don’t!” said he.</p> +<p>She looked him in the face, and I can still see those black +eyes of hers softening before the gaze.</p> +<p>“Am I to have none?”</p> +<p>“Please, don’t.”</p> +<p>With a quick movement she wrested the bottle out of his hand +and raised it up so that for a moment it entered my head that she +was about to drink it off. Then she flung it through the +open lattice, and we heard the crash of it on the path +outside.</p> +<p>“There, Jim!” said she; “does that satisfy +you? It’s long since any one cared whether I drank or +no.”</p> +<p>“You are too good and kind for that,” said he.</p> +<p>“Good!” she cried. “Well, I love that +you should think me so. And it would make you happier if I +kept from the brandy, Jim? Well, then, I’ll make you +a promise, if you’ll make me one in return.”</p> +<p>“What’s that, miss?”</p> +<p>“No drop shall pass my lips, Jim, if you will swear, wet +or shine, blow or snow, to come up here twice in every week, that +I may see you and speak with you, for, indeed, there are times +when I am very lonesome.”</p> +<p>So the promise was made, and very faithfully did Jim keep it, +for many a time when I have wanted him to go fishing or +rabbit-snaring, he has remembered that it was his day for Miss +Hinton, and has tramped off to Anstey Cross. At first I +think that she found her share of the bargain hard to keep, and I +have seen Jim come back with a black face on him, as if things +were going amiss. But after a time the fight was +won—as all fights are won if one does but fight long +enough—and in the year before my father came back Miss +Hinton had become another woman. And it was not her ways +only, but herself as well, for from being the person that I have +described, she became in one twelve-month as fine a looking lady +as there was in the whole country-side. Jim was prouder of +it by far than of anything he had had a hand in in his life, but +it was only to me that he ever spoke about it, for he had that +tenderness towards her that one has for those whom one has +helped. And she helped him also, for by her talk of the +world and of what she had seen, she took his mind away from the +Sussex country-side and prepared it for a broader life +beyond. So matters stood between them at the time when +peace was made and my father came home from the sea.</p> +<h2><a name="page50"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +50</span>CHAPTER IV.<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">THE PEACE OF AMIENS.</span></h2> +<p><span class="smcap">Many</span> a woman’s knee was on +the ground, and many a woman’s soul spent itself in joy and +thankfulness when the news came with the fall of the leaf in 1801 +that the preliminaries of peace had been settled. All +England waved her gladness by day and twinkled it by night. +Even in little Friar’s Oak we had our flags flying bravely, +and a candle in every window, with a big G.R. guttering in the +wind over the door of the inn. Folk were weary of the war, +for we had been at it for eight years, taking Holland, and Spain, +and France each in turn and all together. All that we had +learned during that time was that our little army was no match +for the French on land, and that our large navy was more than a +match for them upon the water. We had gained some credit, +which we were sorely in need of after the American business; and +a few Colonies, which were welcome also for the same reason; but +our debt had gone on rising and our consols sinking, until even +Pitt stood aghast. Still, if we had known that there never +could be peace between Napoleon and ourselves, and that this was +only the end of a round and not of the battle, we should have +been better advised had we fought it out without a break. +As it was, the French got back the twenty thousand good seamen +whom we had captured, and a fine dance they led us with their +Boulogne flotillas and fleets of invasion before we were able to +catch them again.</p> +<p>My father, as I remember him best, was a tough, strong little +man, of no great breadth, but solid and well put together. +His face was burned of a reddish colour, as bright as a +flower-pot, and in spite of his age (for he was only forty at the +time of which I speak) it was shot with lines, which deepened if +he were in any way perturbed, so that I have seen him turn on the +instant from a youngish man to an elderly. His eyes +especially were meshed round with wrinkles, as is natural for one +who had puckered them all his life in facing foul wind and bitter +weather. These eyes were, perhaps, his strangest feature, +for they were of a very clear and beautiful blue, which shone the +brighter out of that ruddy setting. By nature he must have +been a fair-skinned man, for his upper brow, where his cap came +over it, was as white as mine, and his close-cropped hair was +tawny.</p> +<p>He had served, as he was proud to say, in the last of our +ships which had been chased out of the Mediterranean in +’97, and in the first which had re-entered it in +’98. He was under Miller, as third lieutenant of the +<i>Theseus</i>, when our fleet, like a pack of eager fox hounds +in a covert, was dashing from Sicily to Syria and back again to +Naples, trying to pick up the lost scent. With the same +good fighting man he served at the Nile, where the men of his +command sponged and rammed and trained until, when the last +tricolour had come down, they hove up the sheet anchor and fell +dead asleep upon the top of each other under the capstan +bars. Then, as a second lieutenant, he was in one of those +grim three-deckers with powder-blackened hulls and crimson +scupper-holes, their spare cables tied round their keels and over +their bulwarks to hold them together, which carried the news into +the Bay of Naples. From thence, as a reward for his +services, he was transferred as first lieutenant to the +<i>Aurora</i> frigate, engaged in cutting off supplies from +Genoa, and in her he still remained until long after peace was +declared.</p> +<p>How well I can remember his home-coming! Though it is +now eight-and-forty years ago, it is clearer to me than the +doings of last week, for the memory of an old man is like one of +those glasses which shows out what is at a distance and blurs all +that is near.</p> +<p>My mother had been in a tremble ever since the first rumour of +the preliminaries came to our ears, for she knew that he might +come as soon as his message. She said little, but she +saddened my life by insisting that I should be for ever clean and +tidy. With every rumble of wheels, too, her eyes would +glance towards the door, and her hands steal up to smooth her +pretty black hair. She had embroidered a white +“Welcome” upon a blue ground, with an anchor in red +upon each side, and a border of laurel leaves; and this was to +hang upon the two lilac bushes which flanked the cottage +door. He could not have left the Mediterranean before we +had this finished, and every morning she looked to see if it were +in its place and ready to be hanged.</p> +<p>But it was a weary time before the peace was ratified, and it +was April of next year before our great day came round to +us. It had been raining all morning, I remember—a +soft spring rain, which sent up a rich smell from the brown earth +and pattered pleasantly upon the budding chestnuts behind our +cottage. The sun had shone out in the evening, and I had +come down with my fishing-rod (for I had promised Boy Jim to go +with him to the mill-stream), when what should I see but a +post-chaise with two smoking horses at the gate, and there in the +open door of it were my mother’s black skirt and her little +feet jutting out, with two blue arms for a waist-belt, and all +the rest of her buried in the chaise. Away I ran for the +motto, and I pinned it up on the bushes as we had agreed, but +when I had finished there were the skirts and the feet and the +blue arms just the same as before.</p> +<p>“Here’s Rod,” said my mother at last, +struggling down on to the ground again. “Roddy, +darling, here’s your father!”</p> +<p>I saw the red face and the kindly, light-blue eyes looking out +at me.</p> +<p>“Why, Roddy, lad, you were but a child and we kissed +good-bye when last we met; but I suppose we must put you on a +different rating now. I’m right glad from my heart to +see you, dear lad; and as to you, sweetheart—”</p> +<p>The blue arms flew out, and there were the skirt and the two +feet fixed in the door again.</p> +<p>“Here are the folk coming, Anson,” said my mother, +blushing. “Won’t you get out and come in with +us?”</p> +<p>And then suddenly it came home to us both that for all his +cheery face he had never moved more than his arms, and that his +leg was resting on the opposite seat of the chaise.</p> +<p>“Oh, Anson, Anson!” she cried.</p> +<p>“Tut, ’tis but the bone of my leg,” said he, +taking his knee between his hands and lifting it round. +“I got it broke in the Bay, but the surgeon has fished it +and spliced it, though it’s a bit crank yet. Why, +bless her kindly heart, if I haven’t turned her from pink +to white. You can see for yourself that it’s +nothing.”</p> +<p>He sprang out as he spoke, and with one leg and a staff he +hopped swiftly up the path, and under the laurel-bordered motto, +and so over his own threshold for the first time for five +years. When the post-boy and I had carried up the sea-chest +and the two canvas bags, there he was sitting in his armchair by +the window in his old weather-stained blue coat. My mother +was weeping over his poor leg, and he patting her hair with one +brown hand. His other he threw round my waist, and drew me +to the side of his chair.</p> +<p>“Now that we have peace, I can lie up and refit until +King George needs me again,” said he. +“’Twas a carronade that came adrift in the Bay when +it was blowing a top-gallant breeze with a beam sea. Ere we +could make it fast it had me jammed against the mast. Well, +well,” he added, looking round at the walls of the room, +“here are all my old curios, the same as ever: the +narwhal’s horn from the Arctic, and the blowfish from the +Moluccas, and the paddles from Fiji, and the picture of the <i>Ca +Ira</i> with Lord Hotham in chase. And here you are, Mary, +and you also, Roddy, and good luck to the carronade which has +sent me into so snug a harbour without fear of sailing +orders.”</p> +<p>My mother had his long pipe and his tobacco all ready for him, +so that he was able now to light it and to sit looking from one +of us to the other and then back again, as if he could never see +enough of us. Young as I was, I could still understand that +this was the moment which he had thought of during many a lonely +watch, and that the expectation of it had cheered his heart in +many a dark hour. Sometimes he would touch one of us with +his hand, and sometimes the other, and so he sat, with his soul +too satiated for words, whilst the shadows gathered in the little +room and the lights of the inn windows glimmered through the +gloom. And then, after my mother had lit our own lamp, she +slipped suddenly down upon her knees, and he got one knee to the +ground also, so that, hand-in-hand, they joined their thanks to +Heaven for manifold mercies. When I look back at my parents +as they were in those days, it is at that very moment that I can +picture them most clearly: her sweet face with the wet shining +upon her cheeks, and his blue eyes upturned to the +smoke-blackened ceiling. I remember that he swayed his +reeking pipe in the earnestness of his prayer, so that I was half +tears and half smiles as I watched him.</p> +<p>“Roddy, lad,” said he, after supper was over, +“you’re getting a man now, and I suppose you will go +afloat like the rest of us. You’re old enough to +strap a dirk to your thigh.”</p> +<p>“And leave me without a child as well as without a +husband!” cried my mother.</p> +<p>“Well, there’s time enough yet,” said he, +“for they are more inclined to empty berths than to fill +them, now that peace has come. But I’ve never tried +what all this schooling has done for you, Rodney. You have +had a great deal more than ever I had, but I dare say I can make +shift to test it. Have you learned history?”</p> +<p>“Yes, father,” said I, with some confidence.</p> +<p>“Then how many sail of the line were at the Battle of +Camperdown?”</p> +<p>He shook his head gravely when he found that I could not +answer him.</p> +<p>“Why, there are men in the fleet who never had any +schooling at all who could tell you that we had seven 74’s, +seven 64’s, and two 50-gun ships in the action. +There’s a picture on the wall of the chase of the <i>Ca +Ira</i>. Which were the ships that laid her +aboard?”</p> +<p>Again I had to confess that he had beaten me.</p> +<p>“Well, your dad can teach you something in history +yet,” he cried, looking in triumph at my mother. +“Have you learned geography?”</p> +<p>“Yes, father,” said I, though with less confidence +than before.</p> +<p>“Well, how far is it from Port Mahon to +Algeciras?”</p> +<p>I could only shake my head.</p> +<p>“If Ushant lay three leagues upon your starboard +quarter, what would be your nearest English port?”</p> +<p>Again I had to give it up.</p> +<p>“Well, I don’t see that your geography is much +better than your history,” said he. +“You’d never get your certificate at this rate. +Can you do addition? Well, then, let us see if you can tot +up my prize-money.”</p> +<p>He shot a mischievous glance at my mother as he spoke, and she +laid down her knitting on her lap and looked very earnestly at +him.</p> +<p>“You never asked me about that, Mary,” said +he.</p> +<p>“The Mediterranean is not the station for it, +Anson. I have heard you say that it is the Atlantic for +prize-money, and the Mediterranean for honour.”</p> +<p>“I had a share of both last cruise, which comes from +changing a line-of-battleship for a frigate. Now, Rodney, +there are two pounds in every hundred due to me when the +prize-courts have done with them. When we were watching +Massena, off Genoa, we got a matter of seventy schooners, brigs, +and tartans, with wine, food, and powder. Lord Keith will +want his finger in the pie, but that’s for the Courts to +settle. Put them at four pounds apiece to me, and what will +the seventy bring?”</p> +<p>“Two hundred and eighty pounds,” I answered.</p> +<p>“Why, Anson, it is a fortune!” cried my mother, +clapping her hands.</p> +<p>“Try you again, Roddy!” said he, shaking his pipe +at me. “There was the <i>Xebec</i> frigate out of +Barcelona with twenty thousand Spanish dollars aboard, which make +four thousand of our pounds. Her hull should be worth +another thousand. What’s my share of that?”</p> +<p>“A hundred pounds.”</p> +<p>“Why, the purser couldn’t work it out +quicker,” he cried in his delight. +“Here’s for you again! We passed the Straits +and worked up to the Azores, where we fell in with the <i>La +Sabina</i> from the Mauritius with sugar and spices. Twelve +hundred pounds she’s worth to me, Mary, my darling, and +never again shall you soil your pretty fingers or pinch upon my +beggarly pay.”</p> +<p>My dear mother had borne her long struggle without a sign all +these years, but now that she was so suddenly eased of it she +fell sobbing upon his neck. It was a long time before my +father had a thought to spare upon my examination in +arithmetic.</p> +<p>“It’s all in your lap, Mary,” said he, +dashing his own hand across his eyes. “By George, +lass, when this leg of mine is sound we’ll bear down for a +spell to Brighton, and if there is a smarter frock than yours +upon the Steyne, may I never tread a poop again. But how is +it that you are so quick at figures, Rodney, when you know +nothing of history or geography?”</p> +<p>I tried to explain that addition was the same upon sea or +land, but that history and geography were not.</p> +<p>“Well,” he concluded, “you need figures to +take a reckoning, and you need nothing else save what your mother +wit will teach you. There never was one of our breed who +did not take to salt water like a young gull. Lord Nelson +has promised me a vacancy for you, and he’ll be as good as +his word.”</p> +<p>So it was that my father came home to us, and a better or +kinder no lad could wish for. Though my parents had been +married so long, they had really seen very little of each other, +and their affection was as warm and as fresh as if they were two +newly-wedded lovers. I have learned since that sailors can +be coarse and foul, but never did I know it from my father; for, +although he had seen as much rough work as the wildest could wish +for, he was always the same patient, good-humoured man, with a +smile and a jolly word for all the village. He could suit +himself to his company, too, for on the one hand he could take +his wine with the vicar, or with Sir James Ovington, the squire +of the parish; while on the other he would sit by the hour +amongst my humble friends down in the smithy, with Champion +Harrison, Boy Jim, and the rest of them, telling them such +stories of Nelson and his men that I have seen the Champion knot +his great hands together, while Jim’s eyes have smouldered +like the forge embers as he listened.</p> +<p>My father had been placed on half-pay, like so many others of +the old war officers, and so, for nearly two years, he was able +to remain with us. During all this time I can only once +remember that there was the slightest disagreement between him +and my mother. It chanced that I was the cause of it, and +as great events sprang out of it, I must tell you how it came +about. It was indeed the first of a series of events which +affected not only my fortunes, but those of very much more +important people.</p> +<p>The spring of 1803 was an early one, and the middle of April +saw the leaves thick upon the chestnut trees. One evening +we were all seated together over a dish of tea when we heard the +scrunch of steps outside our door, and there was the postman with +a letter in his hand.</p> +<p>“I think it is for me,” said my mother, and sure +enough it was addressed in the most beautiful writing to Mrs. +Mary Stone, of Friar’s Oak, and there was a red seal the +size of a half-crown upon the outside of it with a flying dragon +in the middle.</p> +<p>“Whom think you that it is from, Anson?” she +asked.</p> +<p>“I had hoped that it was from Lord Nelson,” +answered my father. “It is time the boy had his +commission. But if it be for you, then it cannot be from +any one of much importance.”</p> +<p>“Can it not!” she cried, pretending to be +offended. “You will ask my pardon for that speech, +sir, for it is from no less a person than Sir Charles Tregellis, +my own brother.”</p> +<p>My mother seemed to speak with a hushed voice when she +mentioned this wonderful brother of hers, and always had done as +long as I can remember, so that I had learned also to have a +subdued and reverent feeling when I heard his name. And +indeed it was no wonder, for that name was never mentioned unless +it were in connection with something brilliant and +extraordinary. Once we heard that he was at Windsor with +the King. Often he was at Brighton with the Prince. +Sometimes it was as a sportsman that his reputation reached us, +as when his Meteor beat the Duke of Queensberry’s Egham, at +Newmarket, or when he brought Jim Belcher up from Bristol, and +sprang him upon the London fancy. But usually it was as the +friend of the great, the arbiter of fashions, the king of bucks, +and the best-dressed man in town that his reputation reached +us. My father, however, did not appear to be elated at my +mother’s triumphant rejoinder.</p> +<p>“Ay, and what does he want?” asked he, in no very +amiable voice.</p> +<p>“I wrote to him, Anson, and told him that Rodney was +growing a man now, thinking, since he had no wife or child of his +own, he might be disposed to advance him.”</p> +<p>“We can do very well without him,” growled my +father. “He sheered off from us when the weather was +foul, and we have no need of him now that the sun is +shining.”</p> +<p>“Nay, you misjudge him, Anson,” said my mother, +warmly. “There is no one with a better heart than +Charles; but his own life moves so smoothly that he cannot +understand that others may have trouble. During all these +years I have known that I had but to say the word to receive as +much as I wished from him.”</p> +<p>“Thank God that you never had to stoop to it, +Mary. I want none of his help.”</p> +<p>“But we must think of Rodney.”</p> +<p>“Rodney has enough for his sea-chest and kit. He +needs no more.”</p> +<p>“But Charles has great power and influence in +London. He could make Rodney known to all the great +people. Surely you would not stand in the way of his +advancement.”</p> +<p>“Let us hear what he says, then,” said my father; +and this was the letter which she read to him—</p> +<blockquote><p style="text-align: right">14, Jermyn Street, St. +James’s,<br /> +“April 15th, 1803.</p> +<p>“<span class="smcap">My dear Sister Mary</span>,</p> +<p>“In answer to your letter, I can assure you that you +must not conceive me to be wanting in those finer feelings which +are the chief adornment of humanity. It is true that for +some years, absorbed as I have been in affairs of the highest +importance, I have seldom taken a pen in hand, for which I can +assure you that I have been reproached by many <i>des plus +charmantes</i> of your charming sex. At the present moment +I lie abed (having stayed late in order to pay a compliment to +the Marchioness of Dover at her ball last night), and this is +writ to my dictation by Ambrose, my clever rascal of a +valet. I am interested to hear of my nephew Rodney (<i>Mon +dieu</i>, <i>quel nom</i>!), and as I shall be on my way to visit +the Prince at Brighton next week, I shall break my journey at +Friar’s Oak for the sake of seeing both you and him. +Make my compliments to your husband.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">“I am ever, my dear sister +Mary,<br /> +“Your brother,<br /> +“<span class="smcap">Charles Tregellis</span>.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>“What do you think of that?” cried my mother in +triumph when she had finished.</p> +<p>“I think it is the letter of a fop,” said my +father, bluntly.</p> +<p>“You are too hard on him, Anson. You will think +better of him when you know him. But he says that he will +be here next week, and this is Thursday, and the best curtains +unhung, and no lavender in the sheets!”</p> +<p>Away she bustled, half distracted, while my father sat moody, +with his chin upon his hands, and I remained lost in wonder at +the thought of this grand new relative from London, and of all +that his coming might mean to us.</p> +<h2><a name="page65"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +65</span>CHAPTER V.<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">BUCK TREGELLIS.</span></h2> +<p><span class="smcap">Now</span> that I was in my seventeenth +year, and had already some need for a razor, I had begun to weary +of the narrow life of the village, and to long to see something +of the great world beyond. The craving was all the stronger +because I durst not speak openly about it, for the least hint of +it brought the tears into my mother’s eyes. But now +there was the less reason that I should stay at home, since my +father was at her side, and so my mind was all filled by this +prospect of my uncle’s visit, and of the chance that he +might set my feet moving at last upon the road of life.</p> +<p>As you may think, it was towards my father’s profession +that my thoughts and my hopes turned, for from my childhood I +have never seen the heave of the sea or tasted the salt upon my +lips without feeling the blood of five generations of seamen +thrill within my veins. And think of the challenge which +was ever waving in those days before the eyes of a coast-living +lad! I had but to walk up to Wolstonbury in the war time to +see the sails of the French chasse-marées and +privateers. Again and again I have heard the roar of the +guns coming from far out over the waters. Seamen would tell +us how they had left London and been engaged ere nightfall, or +sailed out of Portsmouth and been yard-arm to yard-arm before +they had lost sight of St. Helen’s light. It was this +imminence of the danger which warmed our hearts to our sailors, +and made us talk, round the winter fires, of our little Nelson, +and Cuddie Collingwood, and Johnnie Jarvis, and the rest of them, +not as being great High Admirals with titles and dignities, but +as good friends whom we loved and honoured above all +others. What boy was there through the length and breadth +of Britain who did not long to be out with them under the +red-cross flag?</p> +<p>But now that peace had come, and the fleets which had swept +the Channel and the Mediterranean were lying dismantled in our +harbours, there was less to draw one’s fancy +seawards. It was London now of which I thought by day and +brooded by night: the huge city, the home of the wise and the +great, from which came this constant stream of carriages, and +those crowds of dusty people who were for ever flashing past our +window-pane. It was this one side of life which first +presented itself to me, and so, as a boy, I used to picture the +City as a gigantic stable with a huge huddle of coaches, which +were for ever streaming off down the country roads. But, +then, Champion Harrison told me how the fighting-men lived there, +and my father how the heads of the Navy lived there, and my +mother how her brother and his grand friends were there, until at +last I was consumed with impatience to see this marvellous heart +of England. This coming of my uncle, then, was the breaking +of light through the darkness, though I hardly dared to hope that +he would take me with him into those high circles in which he +lived. My mother, however, had such confidence either in +his good nature or in her own powers of persuasion, that she +already began to make furtive preparations for my departure.</p> +<p>But if the narrowness of the village life chafed my easy +spirit, it was a torture to the keen and ardent mind of Boy +Jim. It was but a few days after the coming of my +uncle’s letter that we walked over the Downs together, and +I had a peep of the bitterness of his heart.</p> +<p>“What is there for me to do, Rodney?” he +cried. “I forge a shoe, and I fuller it, and I clip +it, and I caulken it, and I knock five holes in it, and there it +is finished. Then I do it again and again, and blow up the +bellows and feed the forge, and rasp a hoof or two, and there is +a day’s work done, and every day the same as the +other. Was it for this only, do you think, that I was born +into the world?”</p> +<p>I looked at him, his proud, eagle face, and his tall, sinewy +figure, and I wondered whether in the whole land there was a +finer, handsomer man.</p> +<p>“The Army or the Navy is the place for you, Jim,” +said I.</p> +<p>“That is very well,” he cried. “If you +go into the Navy, as you are likely to do, you go as an officer, +and it is you who do the ordering. If I go in, it is as one +who was born to receive orders.”</p> +<p>“An officer gets his orders from those above +him.”</p> +<p>“But an officer does not have the lash hung over his +head. I saw a poor fellow at the inn here—it was some +years ago—who showed us his back in the tap-room, all cut +into red diamonds with the boat-swain’s whip. +‘Who ordered that?’ I asked. ‘The +captain,’ said he. ‘And what would you have had +if you had struck him dead?’ said I. ‘The +yard-arm,’ he answered. ‘Then if I had been you +that’s where I should have been,’ said I, and I spoke +the truth. I can’t help it, Rod! There’s +something here in my heart, something that is as much a part of +myself as this hand is, which holds me to it.”</p> +<p>“I know that you are as proud as Lucifer,” said +I.</p> +<p>“It was born with me, Roddy, and I can’t help +it. Life would be easier if I could. I was made to be +my own master, and there’s only one place where I can hope +to be so.”</p> +<p>“Where is that, Jim?”</p> +<p>“In London. Miss Hinton has told me of it, until I +feel as if I could find my way through it from end to end. +She loves to talk of it as well as I do to listen. I have +it all laid out in my mind, and I can see where the playhouses +are, and how the river runs, and where the King’s house is, +and the Prince’s, and the place where the fighting-men +live. I could make my name known in London.”</p> +<p>“How?”</p> +<p>“Never mind how, Rod. I could do it, and I will do +it, too. ‘Wait!’ says my +uncle—‘wait, and it will all come right for +you.’ That is what he always says, and my aunt the +same. Why should I wait? What am I to wait for? +No, Roddy, I’ll stay no longer eating my heart out in this +little village, but I’ll leave my apron behind me and +I’ll seek my fortune in London, and when I come back to +Friar’s Oak, it will be in such style as that gentleman +yonder.”</p> +<p>He pointed as he spoke, and there was a high crimson curricle +coming down the London road, with two bay mares harnessed tandem +fashion before it. The reins and fittings were of a light +fawn colour, and the gentleman had a driving-coat to match, with +a servant in dark livery behind. They flashed past us in a +rolling cloud of dust, and I had just a glimpse of the pale, +handsome face of the master, and of the dark, shrivelled features +of the man. I should never have given them another thought +had it not chanced that when the village came into view there was +the curricle again, standing at the door of the inn, and the +grooms busy taking out the horses.</p> +<p>“Jim,” I cried, “I believe it is my +uncle!” and taking to my heels I ran for home at the top of +my speed. At the door was standing the dark-faced +servant. He carried a cushion, upon which lay a small and +fluffy lapdog.</p> +<p>“You will excuse me, young sir,” said he, in the +suavest, most soothing of voices, “but am I right in +supposing that this is the house of Lieutenant Stone? In +that case you will, perhaps, do me the favour to hand to Mrs. +Stone this note which her brother, Sir Charles Tregellis, has +just committed to my care.”</p> +<p>I was quite abashed by the man’s flowery way of +talking—so unlike anything which I had ever heard. He +had a wizened face, and sharp little dark eyes, which took in me +and the house and my mother’s startled face at the window +all in the instant. My parents were together, the two of +them, in the sitting-room, and my mother read the note to us.</p> +<p>“My dear Mary,” it ran, “I have stopped at +the inn, because I am somewhat <i>ravagé</i> by the dust +of your Sussex roads. A lavender-water bath may restore me +to a condition in which I may fitly pay my compliments to a +lady. Meantime, I send you Fidelio as a hostage. Pray +give him a half-pint of warmish milk with six drops of pure +brandy in it. A better or more faithful creature never +lived. <i>Toujours à +toi</i>.—Charles.”</p> +<p>“Have him in! Have him in!” cried my father, +heartily, running to the door. “Come in, Mr. +Fidelio. Every man to his own taste, and six drops to the +half-pint seems a sinful watering of grog—but if you like +it so, you shall have it.”</p> +<p>A smile flickered over the dark face of the servant, but his +features reset themselves instantly into their usual mask of +respectful observance.</p> +<p>“You are labouring under a slight error, sir, if you +will permit me to say so. My name is Ambrose, and I have +the honour to be the valet of Sir Charles Tregellis. This +is Fidelio upon the cushion.”</p> +<p>“Tut, the dog!” cried my father, in disgust. +“Heave him down by the fireside. Why should he have +brandy, when many a Christian has to go without?”</p> +<p>“Hush, Anson!” said my mother, taking the +cushion. “You will tell Sir Charles that his wishes +shall be carried out, and that we shall expect him at his own +convenience.”</p> +<p>The man went off noiselessly and swiftly, but was back in a +few minutes with a flat brown basket.</p> +<p>“It is the refection, madam,” said he. +“Will you permit me to lay the table? Sir Charles is +accustomed to partake of certain dishes and to drink certain +wines, so that we usually bring them with us when we +visit.” He opened the basket, and in a minute he had +the table all shining with silver and glass, and studded with +dainty dishes. So quick and neat and silent was he in all +he did, that my father was as taken with him as I was.</p> +<p>“You’d have made a right good foretopman if your +heart is as stout as your fingers are quick,” said +he. “Did you never wish to have the honour of serving +your country?”</p> +<p>“It is my honour, sir, to serve Sir Charles Tregellis, +and I desire no other master,” he answered. +“But I will convey his dressing-case from the inn, and then +all will be ready.”</p> +<p>He came back with a great silver-mounted box under his arm, +and close at his heels was the gentleman whose coming had made +such a disturbance.</p> +<p>My first impression of my uncle as he entered the room was +that one of his eyes was swollen to the size of an apple. +It caught the breath from my lips—that monstrous, +glistening eye. But the next instant I perceived that he +held a round glass in the front of it, which magnified it in this +fashion. He looked at us each in turn, and then he bowed +very gracefully to my mother and kissed her upon either +cheek.</p> +<p>“You will permit me to compliment you, my dear +Mary,” said he, in a voice which was the most mellow and +beautiful that I have ever heard. “I can assure you +that the country air has used you wondrous well, and that I +should be proud to see my pretty sister in the Mall. I am +your servant, sir,” he continued, holding out his hand to +my father. “It was but last week that I had the +honour of dining with my friend, Lord St. Vincent, and I took +occasion to mention you to him. I may tell you that your +name is not forgotten at the Admiralty, sir, and I hope that I +may see you soon walking the poop of a 74-gun ship of your +own. So this is my nephew, is it?” He put a +hand upon each of my shoulders in a very friendly way and looked +me up and down.</p> +<p>“How old are you, nephew?” he asked.</p> +<p>“Seventeen, sir.”</p> +<p>“You look older. You look eighteen, at the +least. I find him very passable, Mary—very passable, +indeed. He has not the <i>bel</i> air, the +<i>tournure</i>—in our uncouth English we have no word for +it. But he is as healthy as a May-hedge in +bloom.”</p> +<p>So within a minute of his entering our door he had got himself +upon terms with all of us, and with so easy and graceful a manner +that it seemed as if he had known us all for years. I had a +good look at him now as he stood upon the hearthrug with my +mother upon one side and my father on the other. He was a +very large man, with noble shoulders, small waist, broad hips, +well-turned legs, and the smallest of hands and feet. His +face was pale and handsome, with a prominent chin, a jutting +nose, and large blue staring eyes, in which a sort of dancing, +mischievous light was for ever playing. He wore a deep +brown coat with a collar as high as his ears and tails as low as +his knees. His black breeches and silk stockings ended in +very small pointed shoes, so highly polished that they twinkled +with every movement. His vest was of black velvet, open at +the top to show an embroidered shirt-front, with a high, smooth, +white cravat above it, which kept his neck for ever on the +stretch. He stood easily, with one thumb in the arm-pit, +and two fingers of the other hand in his vest pocket. It +made me proud as I watched him to think that so magnificent a +man, with such easy, masterful ways, should be my own blood +relation, and I could see from my mother’s eyes as they +turned towards him that the same thought was in her mind.</p> +<p>All this time Ambrose had been standing like a dark-clothed, +bronze-faced image by the door, with the big silver-bound box +under his arm. He stepped forward now into the room.</p> +<p>“Shall I convey it to your bedchamber, Sir +Charles?” he asked.</p> +<p>“Ah, pardon me, sister Mary,” cried my uncle, +“I am old-fashioned enough to have principles—an +anachronism, I know, in this lax age. One of them is never +to allow my <i>batterie de toilette</i> out of my sight when I am +travelling. I cannot readily forget the agonies which I +endured some years ago through neglecting this precaution. +I will do Ambrose the justice to say that it was before he took +charge of my affairs. I was compelled to wear the same +ruffles upon two consecutive days. On the third morning my +fellow was so affected by the sight of my condition, that he +burst into tears and laid out a pair which he had stolen from +me.”</p> +<p>As he spoke his face was very grave, but the light in his eyes +danced and gleamed. He handed his open snuff-box to my +father, as Ambrose followed my mother out of the room.</p> +<p>“You number yourself in an illustrious company by dipping +your finger and thumb into it,” said he.</p> +<p>“Indeed, sir!” said my father, shortly.</p> +<p>“You are free of my box, as being a relative by +marriage. You are free also, nephew, and I pray you to take +a pinch. It is the most intimate sign of my goodwill. +Outside ourselves there are four, I think, who have had access to +it—the Prince, of course; Mr Pitt; Monsieur Otto, the +French Ambassador; and Lord Hawkesbury. I have sometimes +thought that I was premature with Lord Hawkesbury.”</p> +<p>“I am vastly honoured, sir,” said my father, +looking suspiciously at his guest from under his shaggy eyebrows, +for with that grave face and those twinkling eyes it was hard to +know how to take him.</p> +<p>“A woman, sir, has her love to bestow,” said my +uncle. “A man has his snuff-box. Neither is to +be lightly offered. It is a lapse of taste; nay, more, it +is a breach of morals. Only the other day, as I was seated +in Watier’s, my box of prime macouba open upon the table +beside me, an Irish bishop thrust in his intrusive fingers. +‘Waiter,’ I cried, ‘my box has been +soiled! Remove it!’ The man meant no insult, +you understand, but that class of people must be kept in their +proper sphere.’</p> +<p>“A bishop!” cried my father. “You draw +your line very high, sir.”</p> +<p>“Yes, sir,” said my uncle; “I wish no better +epitaph upon my tombstone.”</p> +<p>My mother had in the meanwhile descended, and we all drew up +to the table.</p> +<p>“You will excuse my apparent grossness, Mary, in +venturing to bring my own larder with me. Abernethy has me +under his orders, and I must eschew your rich country +dainties. A little white wine and a cold bird—it is +as much as the niggardly Scotchman will allow me.”</p> +<p>“We should have you on blockading service when the +levanters are blowing,” said my father. “Salt +junk and weevilly biscuits, with a rib of a tough Barbary ox when +the tenders come in. You would have your spare diet there, +sir.”</p> +<p>Straightway my uncle began to question him about the sea +service, and for the whole meal my father was telling him of the +Nile and of the Toulon blockade, and the siege of Genoa, and all +that he had seen and done. But whenever he faltered for a +word, my uncle always had it ready for him, and it was hard to +say which knew most about the business.</p> +<p>“No, I read little or nothing,” said he, when my +father marvelled where he got his knowledge. “The +fact is that I can hardly pick up a print without seeing some +allusion to myself: ‘Sir C. T. does this,’ or +‘Sir C. T. says the other,’ so I take them no +longer. But if a man is in my position all knowledge comes +to him. The Duke of York tells me of the Army in the +morning, and Lord Spencer chats with me of the Navy in the +afternoon, and Dundas whispers me what is going forward in the +Cabinet, so that I have little need of the <i>Times</i> or the +<i>Morning Chronicle</i>.”</p> +<p>This set him talking of the great world of London, telling my +father about the men who were his masters at the Admiralty, and +my mother about the beauties of the town, and the great ladies at +Almack’s, but all in the same light, fanciful way, so that +one never knew whether to laugh or to take him gravely. I +think it flattered him to see the way in which we all three hung +upon his words. Of some he thought highly and of some +lowly, but he made no secret that the highest of all, and the one +against whom all others should be measured, was Sir Charles +Tregellis himself.</p> +<p>“As to the King,” said he, “of course, I am +<i>l’ami de famille</i> there; and even with you I can +scarce speak freely, as my relations are confidential.”</p> +<p>“God bless him and keep him from ill!” cried my +father.</p> +<p>“It is pleasant to hear you say so,” said my +uncle. “One has to come into the country to hear +honest loyalty, for a sneer and a gibe are more the fashions in +town. The King is grateful to me for the interest which I +have ever shown in his son. He likes to think that the +Prince has a man of taste in his circle.”</p> +<p>“And the Prince?” asked my mother. “Is +he well-favoured?”</p> +<p>“He is a fine figure of a man. At a distance he +has been mistaken for me. And he has some taste in dress, +though he gets slovenly if I am too long away from him. I +warrant you that I find a crease in his coat +to-morrow.”</p> +<p>We were all seated round the fire by this time, for the +evening had turned chilly. The lamp was lighted and so also +was my father’s pipe.</p> +<p>“I suppose,” said he, “that this is your +first visit to Friar’s Oak?”</p> +<p>My uncle’s face turned suddenly very grave and +stern.</p> +<p>“It is my first visit for many years,” said +he. “I was but one-and-twenty years of age when last +I came here. I am not likely to forget it.”</p> +<p>I knew that he spoke of his visit to Cliffe Royal at the time +of the murder, and I saw by her face that my mother knew it +also. My father, however, had either never heard of it, or +had forgotten the circumstance.</p> +<p>“Was it at the inn you stayed?” he asked.</p> +<p>“I stayed with the unfortunate Lord Avon. It was +the occasion when he was accused of slaying his younger brother +and fled from the country.”</p> +<p>We all fell silent, and my uncle leaned his chin upon his +hand, looking thoughtfully into the fire. If I do but close +my eyes now, I can see the light upon his proud, handsome face, +and see also my dear father, concerned at having touched upon so +terrible a memory, shooting little slanting glances at him +betwixt the puffs of his pipe.</p> +<p>“I dare say that it has happened with you, sir,” +said my uncle at last, “that you have lost some dear +messmate, in battle or wreck, and that you have put him out of +your mind in the routine of your daily life, until suddenly some +word or some scene brings him back to your memory, and you find +your sorrow as raw as upon the first day of your loss.”</p> +<p>My father nodded.</p> +<p>“So it is with me to-night. I never formed a close +friendship with a man—I say nothing of women—save +only the once. That was with Lord Avon. We were of an +age, he a few years perhaps my senior, but our tastes, our +judgments, and our characters were alike, save only that he had +in him a touch of pride such as I have never known in any other +man. Putting aside the little foibles of a rich young man +of fashion, <i>les indescrétions d’une jeunesse +dorée</i>, I could have sworn that he was as good a man as +I have ever known.”</p> +<p>“How came he, then, to such a crime?” asked my +father.</p> +<p>My uncle shook his head.</p> +<p>“Many a time have I asked myself that question, and it +comes home to me more to-night than ever.”</p> +<p>All the jauntiness had gone out of his manner, and he had +turned suddenly into a sad and serious man.</p> +<p>“Was it certain that he did it, Charles?” asked my +mother.</p> +<p>My uncle shrugged his shoulders.</p> +<p>“I wish I could think it were not so. I have +thought sometimes that it was this very pride, turning suddenly +to madness, which drove him to it. You have heard how he +returned the money which we had lost?”</p> +<p>“Nay, I have heard nothing of it,” my father +answered.</p> +<p>“It is a very old story now, though we have not yet +found an end to it. We had played for two days, the four of +us: Lord Avon, his brother Captain Barrington, Sir Lothian Hume, +and myself. Of the Captain I knew little, save that he was +not of the best repute, and was deep in the hands of the +Jews. Sir Lothian has made an evil name for himself +since—’tis the same Sir Lothian who shot Lord Carton +in the affair at Chalk Farm—but in those days there was +nothing against him. The oldest of us was but twenty-four, +and we gamed on, as I say, until the Captain had cleared the +board. We were all hit, but our host far the hardest.</p> +<p>“That night—I tell you now what it would be a +bitter thing for me to tell in a court of law—I was +restless and sleepless, as often happens when a man has kept +awake over long. My mind would dwell upon the fall of the +cards, and I was tossing and turning in my bed, when suddenly a +cry fell upon my ears, and then a second louder one, coming from +the direction of Captain Barrington’s room. Five +minutes later I heard steps passing down the passage, and, +without striking a light, I opened my door and peeped out, +thinking that some one was taken unwell. There was Lord +Avon walking towards me. In one hand he held a guttering +candle and in the other a brown bag, which chinked as he +moved. His face was all drawn and distorted—so much +so that my question was frozen upon my lips. Before I could +utter it he turned into his chamber and softly closed the +door.</p> +<p>“Next morning I was awakened by finding him at my +bedside.</p> +<p>“‘Charles,’ said he, ‘I cannot abide +to think that you should have lost this money in my house. +You will find it here upon your table.’</p> +<p>“It was in vain that I laughed at his squeamishness, +telling him that I should most certainly have claimed my money +had I won, so that it would be strange indeed if I were not +permitted to pay it when I lost.</p> +<p>“‘Neither I nor my brother will touch it,’ +said he. ‘There it lies, and you may do what you like +about it.’</p> +<p>“He would listen to no argument, but dashed out of the +room like a madman. But perhaps these details are familiar +to you, and God knows they are painful to me to tell.”</p> +<p>My father was sitting with staring eyes, and his forgotten +pipe reeking in his hand.</p> +<p>“Pray let us hear the end of it, sir,” he +cried.</p> +<p>“Well, then, I had finished my toilet in an hour or +so—for I was less exigeant in those days than now—and +I met Sir Lothian Hume at breakfast. His experience had +been the same as my own, and he was eager to see Captain +Barrington; and to ascertain why he had directed his brother to +return the money to us. We were talking the matter over +when suddenly I raised my eyes to the corner of the ceiling, and +I saw—I saw—”</p> +<p>My uncle had turned quite pale with the vividness of the +memory, and he passed his hand over his eyes.</p> +<p>“It was crimson,” said he, with a +shudder—“crimson with black cracks, and from every +crack—but I will give you dreams, sister Mary. +Suffice it that we rushed up the stair which led direct to the +Captain’s room, and there we found him lying with the bone +gleaming white through his throat. A hunting-knife lay in +the room—and the knife was Lord Avon’s. A lace +ruffle was found in the dead man’s grasp—and the +ruffle was Lord Avon’s. Some papers were found +charred in the grate—and the papers were Lord +Avon’s. Oh, my poor friend, in what moment of madness +did you come to do such a deed?”</p> +<p>The light had gone out of my uncle’s eyes and the +extravagance from his manner. His speech was clear and +plain, with none of those strange London ways which had so amazed +me. Here was a second uncle, a man of heart and a man of +brains, and I liked him better than the first.</p> +<p>“And what said Lord Avon?” cried my father.</p> +<p>“He said nothing. He went about like one who walks +in his sleep, with horror-stricken eyes. None dared arrest +him until there should be due inquiry, but when the +coroner’s court brought wilful murder against him, the +constables came for him in full cry. But they found him +fled. There was a rumour that he had been seen in +Westminster in the next week, and then that he had escaped for +America, but nothing more is known. It will be a bright day +for Sir Lothian Hume when they can prove him dead, for he is next +of kin, and till then he can touch neither title nor +estate.”</p> +<p>The telling of this grim story had cast a chill upon all of +us. My uncle held out his hands towards the blaze, and I +noticed that they were as white as the ruffles which fringed +them.</p> +<p>“I know not how things are at Cliffe Royal now,” +said he, thoughtfully. “It was not a cheery house, +even before this shadow fell upon it. A fitter stage was +never set forth for such a tragedy. But seventeen years +have passed, and perhaps even that horrible +ceiling—”</p> +<p>“It still bears the stain,” said I.</p> +<p>I know not which of the three was the more astonished, for my +mother had not heard of my adventures of the night. They +never took their wondering eyes off me as I told my story, and my +heart swelled with pride when my uncle said that we had carried +ourselves well, and that he did not think that many of our age +would have stood it as stoutly.</p> +<p>“But as to this ghost, it must have been the creature of +your own minds,” said he. “Imagination plays us +strange tricks, and though I have as steady a nerve as a man +might wish, I cannot answer for what I might see if I were to +stand under that blood-stained ceiling at midnight.”</p> +<p>“Uncle,” said I, “I saw a figure as plainly +as I see that fire, and I heard the steps as clearly as I hear +the crackle of the fagots. Besides, we could not both be +deceived.”</p> +<p>“There is truth in that,” said be, +thoughtfully. “You saw no features, you +say?”</p> +<p>“It was too dark.”</p> +<p>“But only a figure?”</p> +<p>“The dark outline of one.”</p> +<p>“And it retreated up the stairs?”</p> +<p>“Yes.”</p> +<p>“And vanished into the wall?”</p> +<p>“Yes.”</p> +<p>“What part of the wall?” cried a voice from behind +us.</p> +<p>My mother screamed, and down came my father’s pipe on to +the hearthrug. I had sprung round with a catch of my +breath, and there was the valet, Ambrose, his body in the shadow +of the doorway, his dark face protruded into the light, and two +burning eyes fixed upon mine.</p> +<p>“What the deuce is the meaning of this, sir?” +cried my uncle.</p> +<p>It was strange to see the gleam and passion fade out of the +man’s face, and the demure mask of the valet replace +it. His eyes still smouldered, but his features regained +their prim composure in an instant.</p> +<p>“I beg your pardon, Sir Charles,” said he. +“I had come in to ask you if you had any orders for me, and +I did not like to interrupt the young gentleman’s +story. I am afraid that I have been somewhat carried away +by it.”</p> +<p>“I never knew you forget yourself before,” said my +uncle.</p> +<p>“You will, I am sure, forgive me, Sir Charles, if you +will call to mind the relation in which I stood to Lord +Avon.” He spoke with some dignity of manner, and with +a bow he left the room.</p> +<p>“We must make some little allowance,” said my +uncle, with a sudden return to his jaunty manner. +“When a man can brew a dish of chocolate, or tie a cravat, +as Ambrose does, he may claim consideration. The fact is +that the poor fellow was valet to Lord Avon, that he was at +Cliffe Royal upon the fatal night of which I have spoken, and +that he is most devoted to his old master. But my talk has +been somewhat <i>triste</i>, sister Mary, and now we shall +return, if you please, to the dresses of the Countess Lieven, and +the gossip of St. James.”</p> +<h2><a name="page86"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +86</span>CHAPTER VI.<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">ON THE THRESHOLD.</span></h2> +<p><span class="smcap">My</span> father sent me to bed early that +night, though I was very eager to stay up, for every word which +this man said held my attention. His face, his manner, the +large waves and sweeps of his white hands, his easy air of +superiority, his fantastic fashion of talk, all filled me with +interest and wonder. But, as I afterwards learned, their +conversation was to be about myself and my own prospects, so I +was despatched to my room, whence far into the night I could hear +the deep growl of my father and the rich tones of my uncle, with +an occasional gentle murmur from my mother, as they talked in the +room beneath.</p> +<p>I had dropped asleep at last, when I was awakened suddenly by +something wet being pressed against my face, and by two warm arms +which were cast round me. My mother’s cheek was +against my own, and I could hear the click of her sobs, and feel +her quiver and shake in the darkness. A faint light stole +through the latticed window, and I could dimly see that she was +in white, with her black hair loose upon her shoulders.</p> +<p>“You won’t forget us, Roddy? You won’t +forget us?”</p> +<p>“Why, mother, what is it?”</p> +<p>“Your uncle, Roddy—he is going to take you away +from us.”</p> +<p>“When, mother?”</p> +<p>“To-morrow.”</p> +<p>God forgive me, how my heart bounded for joy, when hers, which +was within touch of it, was breaking with sorrow!</p> +<p>“Oh, mother!” I cried. “To +London?”</p> +<p>“First to Brighton, that he may present you to the +Prince. Next day to London, where you will meet the great +people, Roddy, and learn to look down upon—to look down +upon your poor, simple, old-fashioned father and +mother.”</p> +<p>I put my arms about her to console her, but she wept so that, +for all my seventeen years and pride of manhood, it set me +weeping also, and with such a hiccoughing noise, since I had not +a woman’s knack of quiet tears, that it finally turned her +own grief to laughter.</p> +<p>“Charles would be flattered if he could see the gracious +way in which we receive his kindness,” said she. +“Be still, Roddy dear, or you will certainly wake +him.”</p> +<p>“I’ll not go if it is to grieve you,” I +cried.</p> +<p>“Nay, dear, you must go, for it may be the one great +chance of your life. And think how proud it will make us +all when we hear of you in the company of Charles’s grand +friends. But you will promise me not to gamble, +Roddy? You heard to-night of the dreadful things which come +from it.”</p> +<p>“I promise you, mother.”</p> +<p>“And you will be careful of wine, Roddy? You are +young and unused to it.”</p> +<p>“Yes, mother.”</p> +<p>“And play-actresses also, Roddy. And you will not +cast your underclothing until June is in. Young Master +Overton came by his death through it. Think well of your +dress, Roddy, so as to do your uncle credit, for it is the thing +for which he is himself most famed. You have but to do what +he will direct. But if there is a time when you are not +meeting grand people, you can wear out your country things, for +your brown coat is as good as new, and the blue one, if it were +ironed and relined, would take you through the summer. I +have put out your Sunday clothes with the nankeen vest, since you +are to see the Prince to-morrow, and you will wear your brown +silk stockings and buckle shoes. Be guarded in crossing the +London streets, for I am told that the hackney coaches are past +all imagining. Fold your clothes when you go to bed, Roddy, +and do not forget your evening prayers, for, oh, my dear boy, the +days of temptation are at hand, when I will no longer be with you +to help you.”</p> +<p>So with advice and guidance both for this world and the next +did my mother, with her soft, warm arms around me, prepare me for +the great step which lay before me.</p> +<p>My uncle did not appear at breakfast in the morning, but +Ambrose brewed him a dish of chocolate and took it to his +room. When at last, about midday, he did descend, he was so +fine with his curled hair, his shining teeth, his quizzing glass, +his snow-white ruffles, and his laughing eyes, that I could not +take my gaze from him.</p> +<p>“Well, nephew,” he cried, “what do you think +of the prospect of coming to town with me?”</p> +<p>“I thank you, sir, for the kind interest which you take +in me,” said I.</p> +<p>“But you must be a credit to me. My nephew must be +of the best if he is to be in keeping with the rest of +me.”</p> +<p>“You’ll find him a chip of good wood, sir,” +said my father.</p> +<p>“We must make him a polished chip before we have done +with him. Your aim, my dear nephew, must always be to be in +<i>bon ton</i>. It is not a case of wealth, you +understand. Mere riches cannot do it. Golden Price +has forty thousand a year, but his clothes are disastrous. +I assure you that I saw him come down St. James’s Street +the other day, and I was so shocked at his appearance that I had +to step into Vernet’s for a glass of orange brandy. +No, it is a question of natural taste, and of following the +advice and example of those who are more experienced than +yourself.”</p> +<p>“I fear, Charles, that Roddy’s wardrobe is +country-made,” said my mother.</p> +<p>“We shall soon set that right when we get to town. +We shall see what Stultz or Weston can do for him,” my +uncle answered. “We must keep him quiet until he has +some clothes to wear.”</p> +<p>This slight upon my best Sunday suit brought a flush to my +mother’s cheeks, which my uncle instantly observed, for he +was quick in noticing trifles.</p> +<p>“The clothes are very well for Friar’s Oak, sister +Mary,” said he. “And yet you can understand +that they might seem <i>rococo</i> in the Mall. If you +leave him in my hands I shall see to the matter.”</p> +<p>“On how much, sir,” asked my father, “can a +young man dress in town?”</p> +<p>“With prudence and reasonable care, a young man of +fashion can dress upon eight hundred a year,” my uncle +answered.</p> +<p>I saw my poor father’s face grow longer.</p> +<p>“I fear, sir, that Roddy must keep his country +clothes,” said he. “Even with my +prize-money—”</p> +<p>“Tut, sir!” cried my uncle. “I already +owe Weston something over a thousand, so how can a few odd +hundreds affect it? If my nephew comes with me, my nephew +is my care. The point is settled, and I must refuse to +argue upon it.” He waved his white hands as if to +brush aside all opposition.</p> +<p>My parents tried to thank him, but he cut them short.</p> +<p>“By the way, now that I am in Friar’s Oak, there +is another small piece of business which I have to +perform,” said he. “I believe that there is a +fighting-man named Harrison here, who at one time might have held +the championship. In those days poor Avon and I were his +principal backers. I should like to have a word with +him.”</p> +<p>You may think how proud I was to walk down the village street +with my magnificent relative, and to note out of the corner of my +eye how the folk came to the doors and windows to see us +pass. Champion Harrison was standing outside the smithy, +and he pulled his cap off when he saw my uncle.</p> +<p>“God bless me, sir! Who’d ha’ thought +of seein’ you at Friar’s Oak? Why, Sir Charles, +it brings old memories back to look at your face +again.”</p> +<p>“Glad to see you looking so fit, Harrison,” said +my uncle, running his eyes over him. “Why, with a +week’s training you would be as good a man as ever. I +don’t suppose you scale more than thirteen and a +half?”</p> +<p>“Thirteen ten, Sir Charles. I’m in my +fortieth year, but I am sound in wind and limb, and if my old +woman would have let me off my promise, I’d ha’ had a +try with some of these young ones before now. I hear that +they’ve got some amazin’ good stuff up from Bristol +of late.”</p> +<p>“Yes, the Bristol yellowman has been the winning colour +of late. How d’ye do, Mrs. Harrison? I +don’t suppose you remember me?”</p> +<p>She had come out from the house, and I noticed that her worn +face—on which some past terror seemed to have left its +shadow—hardened into stern lines as she looked at my +uncle.</p> +<p>“I remember you too well, Sir Charles Tregellis,” +said she. “I trust that you have not come here to-day +to try to draw my husband back into the ways that he has +forsaken.”</p> +<p>“That’s the way with her, Sir Charles,” said +Harrison, resting his great hand upon the woman’s +shoulder. “She’s got my promise, and she holds +me to it! There was never a better or more hard-working +wife, but she ain’t what you’d call a patron of +sport, and that’s a fact.”</p> +<p>“Sport!” cried the woman, bitterly. “A +fine sport for you, Sir Charles, with your pleasant twenty-mile +drive into the country and your luncheon-basket and your wines, +and so merrily back to London in the cool of the evening, with a +well-fought battle to talk over. Think of the sport that it +was to me to sit through the long hours, listening for the wheels +of the chaise which would bring my man back to me. +Sometimes he could walk in, and sometimes he was led in, and +sometimes he was carried in, and it was only by his clothes that +I could know him—”</p> +<p>“Come, wifie,” said Harrison, patting her on the +shoulder. “I’ve been cut up in my time, but +never as bad as that.”</p> +<p>“And then to live for weeks afterwards with the fear +that every knock at the door may be to tell us that the other is +dead, and that my man may have to stand in the dock and take his +trial for murder.”</p> +<p>“No, she hasn’t got a sportin’ drop in her +veins,” said Harrison. “She’d never make +a patron, never! It’s Black Baruk’s business +that did it, when we thought he’d napped it once too +often. Well, she has my promise, and I’ll never sling +my hat over the ropes unless she gives me leave.”</p> +<p>“You’ll keep your hat on your head like an honest, +God-fearing man, John,” said his wife, turning back into +the house.</p> +<p>“I wouldn’t for the world say anything to make you +change your resolutions,” said my uncle. “At +the same time, if you had wished to take a turn at the old sport, +I had a good thing to put in your way.”</p> +<p>“Well, it’s no use, sir,” said Harrison, +“but I’d be glad to hear about it all the +same.”</p> +<p>“They have a very good bit of stuff at thirteen stone +down Gloucester way. Wilson is his name, and they call him +Crab on account of his style.”</p> +<p>Harrison shook his head. “Never heard of him, +sir.”</p> +<p>“Very likely not, for he has never shown in the +P.R. But they think great things of him in the West, and he +can hold his own with either of the Belchers with the +mufflers.”</p> +<p>“Sparrin’ ain’t fightin’,” said +the smith.</p> +<p>“I am told that he had the best of it in a by-battle +with Noah James, of Cheshire.”</p> +<p>“There’s no gamer man on the list, sir, than Noah +James, the guardsman,” said Harrison. “I saw +him myself fight fifty rounds after his jaw had been cracked in +three places. If Wilson could beat him, Wilson will go +far.”</p> +<p>“So they think in the West, and they mean to spring him +on the London talent. Sir Lothian Hume is his patron, and +to make a long story short, he lays me odds that I won’t +find a young one of his weight to meet him. I told him that +I had not heard of any good young ones, but that I had an old one +who had not put his foot into a ring for many years, who would +make his man wish he had never come to London.</p> +<p>“‘Young or old, under twenty or over thirty-five, +you may bring whom you will at the weight, and I shall lay two to +one on Wilson,’ said he. I took him in thousands, and +here I am.”</p> +<p>“It won’t do, Sir Charles,” said the smith, +shaking his head. “There’s nothing would please +me better, but you heard for yourself.”</p> +<p>“Well, if you won’t fight, Harrison, I must try to +get some promising colt. I’d be glad of your advice +in the matter. By the way, I take the chair at a supper of +the Fancy at the Waggon and Horses in St. Martin’s Lane +next Friday. I should be very glad if you will make one of +my guests. Halloa, who’s this?” Up flew +his glass to his eye.</p> +<p>Boy Jim had come out from the forge with his hammer in his +hand. He had, I remember, a grey flannel shirt, which was +open at the neck and turned up at the sleeves. My uncle ran +his eyes over the fine lines of his magnificent figure with the +glance of a connoisseur.</p> +<p>“That’s my nephew, Sir Charles.”</p> +<p>“Is he living with you?”</p> +<p>“His parents are dead.”</p> +<p>“Has he ever been in London?”</p> +<p>“No, Sir Charles. He’s been with me here +since he was as high as that hammer.”</p> +<p>My uncle turned to Boy Jim.</p> +<p>“I hear that you have never been in London,” said +he. “Your uncle is coming up to a supper which I am +giving to the Fancy next Friday. Would you care to make one +of us?”</p> +<p>Boy Jim’s dark eyes sparkled with pleasure.</p> +<p>“I should be glad to come, sir.”</p> +<p>“No, no, Jim,” cried the smith, abruptly. +“I’m sorry to gainsay you, lad, but there are reasons +why I had rather you stayed down here with your aunt.”</p> +<p>“Tut, Harrison, let the lad come!” cried my +uncle.</p> +<p>“No, no, Sir Charles. It’s dangerous company +for a lad of his mettle. There’s plenty for him to do +when I’m away.”</p> +<p>Poor Jim turned away with a clouded brow and strode into the +smithy again. For my part, I slipped after him to try to +console him, and to tell him all the wonderful changes which had +come so suddenly into my life. But I had not got half +through my story, and Jim, like the good fellow that he was, had +just begun to forget his own troubles in his delight at my good +fortune, when my uncle called to me from without. The +curricle with its tandem mares was waiting for us outside the +cottage, and Ambrose had placed the refection-basket, the +lap-dog, and the precious toilet-box inside of it. He had +himself climbed up behind, and I, after a hearty handshake from +my father, and a last sobbing embrace from my mother, took my +place beside my uncle in the front.</p> +<p>“Let go her head!” cried he to the ostler, and +with a snap, a crack, and a jingle, away we went upon our +journey.</p> +<p>Across all the years how clearly I can see that spring day, +with the green English fields, the windy English sky, and the +yellow, beetle-browed cottage in which I had grown from a child +to a man. I see, too, the figures at the garden gate: my +mother, with her face turned away and her handkerchief waving; my +father, with his blue coat and his white shorts, leaning upon his +stick with his hand shading his eyes as he peered after us. +All the village was out to see young Roddy Stone go off with his +grand relative from London to call upon the Prince in his own +palace. The Harrisons were waving to me from the smithy, +and John Cummings from the steps of the inn, and I saw Joshua +Allen, my old schoolmaster, pointing me out to the people, as if +he were showing what came from his teaching. To make it +complete, who should drive past just as we cleared the village +but Miss Hinton, the play-actress, the pony and phaeton the same +as when first I saw her, but she herself another woman; and I +thought to myself that if Boy Jim had done nothing but that one +thing, he need not think that his youth had been wasted in the +country. She was driving to see him, I have no doubt, for +they were closer than ever, and she never looked up nor saw the +hand that I waved to her. So as we took the curve of the +road the little village vanished, and there in the dip of the +Downs, past the spires of Patcham and of Preston, lay the broad +blue sea and the grey houses of Brighton, with the strange +Eastern domes and minarets of the Prince’s Pavilion +shooting out from the centre of it.</p> +<p>To every traveller it was a sight of beauty, but to me it was +the world—the great wide free world—and my heart +thrilled and fluttered as the young bird’s may when it +first hears the whirr of its own flight, and skims along with the +blue heaven above it and the green fields beneath. The day +may come when it may look back regretfully to the snug nest in +the thornbush, but what does it reck of that when spring is in +the air and youth in its blood, and the old hawk of trouble has +not yet darkened the sunshine with the ill-boding shadow of its +wings?</p> +<h2><a name="page98"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +98</span>CHAPTER VII.<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">THE HOPE OF ENGLAND.</span></h2> +<p><span class="smcap">My</span> uncle drove for some time in +silence, but I was conscious that his eye was always coming round +to me, and I had an uneasy conviction that he was already +beginning to ask himself whether he could make anything of me, or +whether he had been betrayed into an indiscretion when he had +allowed his sister to persuade him to show her son something of +the grand world in which he lived.</p> +<p>“You sing, don’t you, nephew?” he asked, +suddenly.</p> +<p>“Yes, sir, a little.”</p> +<p>“A baritone, I should fancy?”</p> +<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> +<p>“And your mother tells me that you play the +fiddle. These things will be of service to you with the +Prince. Music runs in his family. Your education has +been what you could get at a village school. Well, you are +not examined in Greek roots in polite society, which is lucky for +some of us. It is as well just to have a tag or two of +Horace or Virgil: ‘sub tegmine fagi,’ or ‘habet +fœnum in cornu,’ which gives a flavour to one’s +conversation like the touch of garlic in a salad. It is not +<i>bon ton</i> to be learned, but it is a graceful thing to +indicate that you have forgotten a good deal. Can you write +verse?”</p> +<p>“I fear not, sir.”</p> +<p>“A small book of rhymes may be had for half a +crown. Vers de Société are a great assistance +to a young man. If you have the ladies on your side, it +does not matter whom you have against you. You must learn +to open a door, to enter a room, to present a snuff-box, raising +the lid with the forefinger of the hand in which you hold +it. You must acquire the bow for a man, with its necessary +touch of dignity, and that for a lady, which cannot be too +humble, and should still contain the least suspicion of +abandon. You must cultivate a manner with women which shall +be deprecating and yet audacious. Have you any +eccentricity?”</p> +<p>It made me laugh, the easy way in which he asked the question, +as if it were a most natural thing to possess.</p> +<p>“You have a pleasant, catching laugh, at all +events,” said he. “But an eccentricity is very +<i>bon ton</i> at present, and if you feel any leaning towards +one, I should certainly advise you to let it run its +course. Petersham would have remained a mere peer all his +life had it not come out that he had a snuff-box for every day in +the year, and that he had caught cold through a mistake of his +valet, who sent him out on a bitter winter day with a thin +Sèvres china box instead of a thick tortoiseshell. +That brought him out of the ruck, you see, and people remember +him. Even some small characteristic, such as having an +apricot tart on your sideboard all the year round, or putting +your candle out at night by stuffing it under your pillow, serves +to separate you from your neighbour. In my own case, it is +my precise judgment upon matter of dress and decorum which has +placed me where I am. I do not profess to follow a +law. I set one. For example, I am taking you to-day +to see the Prince in a nankeen vest. What do you think will +be the consequence of that?”</p> +<p>My fears told me that it might be my own very great +discomfiture, but I did not say so.</p> +<p>“Why, the night coach will carry the news to +London. It will be in Brookes’s and White’s +to-morrow morning. Within, a week St. James’s Street +and the Mall will be full of nankeen waistcoats. A most +painful incident happened to me once. My cravat came undone +in the street, and I actually walked from Carlton House to +Watier’s in Bruton Street with the two ends hanging +loose. Do you suppose it shook my position? The same +evening there were dozens of young bloods walking the streets of +London with their cravats loose. If I had not rearranged +mine there would not be one tied in the whole kingdom now, and a +great art would have been prematurely lost. You have not +yet began to practise it?”</p> +<p>I confessed that I had not.</p> +<p>“You should begin now in your youth. I will myself +teach you the <i>coup d’archet</i>. By using a few +hours in each day, which would otherwise be wasted, you may hope +to have excellent cravats in middle life. The whole knack +lies in pointing your chin to the sky, and then arranging your +folds by the gradual descent of your lower jaw.”</p> +<p>When my uncle spoke like this there was always that dancing, +mischievous light in his dark blue eyes, which showed me that +this humour of his was a conscious eccentricity, depending, as I +believe, upon a natural fastidiousness of taste, but wilfully +driven to grotesque lengths for the very reason which made him +recommend me also to develop some peculiarity of my own. +When I thought of the way in which he had spoken of his unhappy +friend, Lord Avon, upon the evening before, and of the emotion +which he showed as he told the horrible story, I was glad to +think that there was the heart of a man there, however much it +might please him to conceal it.</p> +<p>And, as it happened, I was very soon to have another peep at +it, for a most unexpected event befell us as we drew up in front +of the Crown hotel. A swarm of ostlers and grooms had +rushed out to us, and my uncle, throwing down the reins, gathered +Fidelio on his cushion from under the seat.</p> +<p>“Ambrose,” he cried, “you may take +Fidelio.”</p> +<p>But there came no answer. The seat behind was +unoccupied. Ambrose was gone.</p> +<p>We could hardly believe our eyes when we alighted and found +that it was really so. He had most certainly taken his seat +there at Friar’s Oak, and from there on we had come without +a break as fast as the mares could travel. Whither, then, +could he have vanished to?</p> +<p>“He’s fallen off in a fit!” cried my +uncle. “I’d drive back, but the Prince is +expecting us. Where’s the landlord? Here, +Coppinger, send your best man back to Friar’s Oak as fast +as his horse can go, to find news of my valet, Ambrose. See +that no pains be spared. Now, nephew, we shall lunch, and +then go up to the Pavilion.”</p> +<p>My uncle was much disturbed by the strange loss of his valet, +the more so as it was his custom to go through a whole series of +washings and changings after even the shortest journey. For +my own part, mindful of my mother’s advice, I carefully +brushed the dust from my clothes and made myself as neat as +possible. My heart was down in the soles of my little +silver-buckled shoes now that I had the immediate prospect of +meeting so great and terrible a person as the Prince of +Wales. I had seen his flaring yellow barouche flying +through Friar’s Oak many a time, and had halloaed and waved +my hat with the others as it passed, but never in my wildest +dreams had it entered my head that I should ever be called upon +to look him in the face and answer his questions. My mother +had taught me to regard him with reverence, as one of those whom +God had placed to rule over us; but my uncle smiled when I told +him of her teaching.</p> +<p>“You are old enough to see things as they are, +nephew,” said he, “and your knowledge of them is the +badge that you are in that inner circle where I mean to place +you. There is no one who knows the Prince better than I do, +and there is no one who trusts him less. A stranger +contradiction of qualities was never gathered under one +hat. He is a man who is always in a hurry, and yet has +never anything to do. He fusses about things with which he +has no concern, and he neglects every obvious duty. He is +generous to those who have no claim upon him, but he has ruined +his tradesmen by refusing to pay his just debts. He is +affectionate to casual acquaintances, but he dislikes his father, +loathes his mother, and is not on speaking terms with his +wife. He claims to be the first gentleman of England, but +the gentlemen of England have responded by blackballing his +friends at their clubs, and by warning him off from Newmarket +under suspicion of having tampered with a horse. He spends +his days in uttering noble sentiments, and contradicting them by +ignoble actions. He tells stories of his own doings which +are so grotesque that they can only be explained by the madness +which runs in his blood. And yet, with all this, he can be +courteous, dignified, and kindly upon occasion, and I have seen +an impulsive good-heartedness in the man which has made me +overlook faults which come mainly from his being placed in a +position which no one upon this earth was ever less fitted to +fill. But this is between ourselves, nephew; and now you +will come with me and you will form an opinion for +yourself.”</p> +<p>It was but a short walk, and yet it took us some time, for my +uncle stalked along with great dignity, his lace-bordered +handkerchief in one hand, and his cane with the clouded amber +head dangling from the other. Every one that we met seemed +to know him, and their hats flew from their heads as we +passed. He took little notice of these greetings, save to +give a nod to one, or to slightly raise his forefinger to +another. It chanced, however, that as we turned into the +Pavilion Grounds, we met a magnificent team of four coal-black +horses, driven by a rough-looking, middle-aged fellow in an old +weather-stained cape. There was nothing that I could see to +distinguish him from any professional driver, save that he was +chatting very freely with a dainty little woman who was perched +on the box beside him.</p> +<p>“Halloa, Charlie! Good drive down?” he +cried.</p> +<p>My uncle bowed and smiled to the lady.</p> +<p>“Broke it at Friar’s Oak,” said he. +“I’ve my light curricle and two new mares—half +thorough-bred, half Cleveland bay.”</p> +<p>“What d’you think of my team of blacks?” +asked the other.</p> +<p>“Yes, Sir Charles, what d’you think of them? +Ain’t they damnation smart?” cried the little +woman.</p> +<p>“Plenty of power. Good horses for the Sussex +clay. Too thick about the fetlocks for me. I like to +travel.”</p> +<p>“Travel!” cried the woman, with extraordinary +vehemence. “Why, what the—” and she broke +into such language as I had never heard from a man’s lips +before. “We’d start with our swingle-bars +touching, and we’d have your dinner ordered, cooked, laid, +and eaten before you were there to claim it.”</p> +<p>“By George, yes, Letty is right!” cried the +man. “D’you start to-morrow?”</p> +<p>“Yes, Jack.”</p> +<p>“Well, I’ll make you an offer. Look ye here, +Charlie! I’ll spring my cattle from the Castle Square +at quarter before nine. You can follow as the clock +strikes. I’ve double the horses and double the +weight. If you so much as see me before we cross +Westminster Bridge, I’ll pay you a cool hundred. If +not, it’s my money—play or pay. Is it a +match?”</p> +<p>“Very good,” said my uncle, and, raising his hat, +he led the way into the grounds. As I followed, I saw the +woman take the reins, while the man looked after us, and squirted +a jet of tobacco-juice from between his teeth in coachman +fashion.</p> +<p>“That’s Sir John Lade,” said my uncle, +“one of the richest men and best whips in England. +There isn’t a professional on the road that can handle +either his tongue or his ribbons better; but his wife, Lady +Letty, is his match with the one or the other.”</p> +<p>“It was dreadful to hear her,” said I.</p> +<p>“Oh, it’s her eccentricity. We all have +them; and she amuses the Prince. Now, nephew, keep close at +my elbow, and have your eyes open and your mouth shut.”</p> +<p>Two lines of magnificent red and gold footmen who guarded the +door bowed deeply as my uncle and I passed between them, he with +his head in the air and a manner as if he entered into his own, +whilst I tried to look assured, though my heart was beating thin +and fast. Within there was a high and large hall, +ornamented with Eastern decorations, which harmonized with the +domes and minarets of the exterior. A number of people were +moving quietly about, forming into groups and whispering to each +other. One of these, a short, burly, red-faced man, full of +fuss and self-importance, came hurrying up to my uncle.</p> +<p>“I have de goot news, Sir Charles,” said he, +sinking his voice as one who speaks of weighty measures. +“<i>Es ist vollendet</i>—dat is, I have it at last +thoroughly done.”</p> +<p>“Well, serve it hot,” said my uncle, coldly, +“and see that the sauces are a little better than when last +I dined at Carlton House.”</p> +<p>“Ah, mine Gott, you tink I talk of de cuisine. It +is de affair of de Prince dat I speak of. Dat is one little +<i>vol-au-vent</i> dat is worth one hundred tousand pound. +Ten per cent., and double to be repaid when de Royal pappa +die. <i>Alles ist fertig</i>. Goldshmidt of de Hague +have took it up, and de Dutch public has subscribe de +money.”</p> +<p>“God help the Dutch public!” muttered my uncle, as +the fat little man bustled off with his news to some +new-comer. “That’s the Prince’s famous +cook, nephew. He has not his equal in England for a +<i>filet sauté aux champignons</i>. He manages his +master’s money affairs.”</p> +<p>“The cook!” I exclaimed, in bewilderment.</p> +<p>“You look surprised, nephew.”</p> +<p>“I should have thought that some respectable banking +firm—”</p> +<p>My uncle inclined his lips to my ear.</p> +<p>“No respectable house would touch them,” he +whispered. “Ah, Mellish, is the Prince +within?”</p> +<p>“In the private saloon, Sir Charles,” said the +gentleman addressed.</p> +<p>“Any one with him?”</p> +<p>“Sheridan and Francis. He said he expected +you.”</p> +<p>“Then we shall go through.”</p> +<p>I followed him through the strangest succession of rooms, full +of curious barbaric splendour which impressed me as being very +rich and wonderful, though perhaps I should think differently +now. Gold and scarlet in arabesque designs gleamed upon the +walls, with gilt dragons and monsters writhing along cornices and +out of corners. Look where I would, on panel or ceiling, a +score of mirrors flashed back the picture of the tall, proud, +white-faced man, and the youth who walked so demurely at his +elbow. Finally, a footman opened a door, and we found +ourselves in the Prince’s own private apartment.</p> +<p>Two gentlemen were lounging in a very easy fashion upon +luxurious fauteuils at the further end of the room and a third +stood between them, his thick, well-formed legs somewhat apart +and his hands clasped behind him. The sun was shining in +upon them through a side-window, and I can see the three faces +now—one in the dusk, one in the light, and one cut across +by the shadow. Of those at the sides, I recall the reddish +nose and dark, flashing eyes of the one, and the hard, austere +face of the other, with the high coat-collars and many-wreathed +cravats. These I took in at a glance, but it was upon the +man in the centre that my gaze was fixed, for this I knew must be +the Prince of Wales.</p> +<p>George was then in his forty-first year, and with the help of +his tailor and his hairdresser, he might have passed as somewhat +less. The sight of him put me at my ease, for he was a +merry-looking man, handsome too in a portly, full-blooded way, +with laughing eyes and pouting, sensitive lips. His nose +was turned upwards, which increased the good-humoured effect of +his countenance at the expense of its dignity. His cheeks +were pale and sodden, like those of a man who lived too well and +took too little exercise. He was dressed in a +single-breasted black coat buttoned up, a pair of leather +pantaloons stretched tightly across his broad thighs, polished +Hessian boots, and a huge white neckcloth.</p> +<p>“Halloa, Tregellis!” he cried, in the cheeriest +fashion, as my uncle crossed the threshold, and then suddenly the +smile faded from his face, and his eyes gleamed with +resentment. “What the deuce is this?” he +shouted, angrily.</p> +<p>A thrill of fear passed through me as I thought that it was my +appearance which had produced this outburst. But his eyes +were gazing past us, and glancing round we saw that a man in a +brown coat and scratch wig had followed so closely at our heels, +that the footmen had let him pass under the impression that he +was of our party. His face was very red, and the folded +blue paper which he carried in his hand shook and crackled in his +excitement.</p> +<p>“Why, it’s Vuillamy, the furniture man,” +cried the Prince. “What, am I to be dunned in my own +private room? Where’s Mellish? Where’s +Townshend? What the deuce is Tom Tring doing?”</p> +<p>“I wouldn’t have intruded, your Royal Highness, +but I must have the money—or even a thousand on account +would do.”</p> +<p>“Must have it, must you, Vuillamy? That’s a +fine word to use. I pay my debts in my own time, and +I’m not to be bullied. Turn him out, footman! +Take him away!”</p> +<p>“If I don’t get it by Monday, I shall be in your +papa’s Bench,” wailed the little man, and as the +footman led him out we could hear him, amidst shouts of laughter, +still protesting that he would wind up in “papa’s +Bench.”</p> +<p>“That’s the very place for a furniture man,” +said the man with the red nose.</p> +<p>“It should be the longest bench in the world, +Sherry,” answered the Prince, “for a good many of his +subjects will want seats on it. Very glad to see you back, +Tregellis, but you must really be more careful what you bring in +upon your skirts. It was only yesterday that we had an +infernal Dutchman here howling about some arrears of interest and +the deuce knows what. ‘My good fellow,’ said I, +‘as long as the Commons starve me, I have to starve +you,’ and so the matter ended.”</p> +<p>“I think, sir, that the Commons would respond now if the +matter were fairly put before them by Charlie Fox or +myself,” said Sheridan.</p> +<p>The Prince burst out against the Commons with an energy of +hatred that one would scarce expect from that chubby, +good-humoured face.</p> +<p>“Why, curse them!” he cried. “After +all their preaching and throwing my father’s model life, as +they called it, in my teeth, they had to pay <i>his</i> debts to +the tune of nearly a million, whilst I can’t get a hundred +thousand out of them. And look at all they’ve done +for my brothers! York is Commander-in-Chief. Clarence +is Admiral. What am I? Colonel of a damned dragoon +regiment under the orders of my own younger brother. +It’s my mother that’s at the bottom of it all. +She always tried to hold me back. But what’s this +you’ve brought, Tregellis, eh?”</p> +<p>My uncle put his hand on my sleeve and led me forward.</p> +<p>“This is my sister’s son, sir; Rodney Stone by +name,” said he. “He is coming with me to +London, and I thought it right to begin by presenting him to your +Royal Highness.”</p> +<p>“Quite right! Quite right!” said the Prince, +with a good-natured smile, patting me in a friendly way upon the +shoulder. “Is your mother living?”</p> +<p>“Yes, sir,” said I.</p> +<p>“If you are a good son to her you will never go +wrong. And, mark my words, Mr. Rodney Stone, you should +honour the King, love your country, and uphold the glorious +British Constitution.”</p> +<p>When I thought of the energy with which he had just been +cursing the House of Commons, I could scarce keep from smiling, +and I saw Sheridan put his hand up to his lips.</p> +<p>“You have only to do this, to show a regard for your +word, and to keep out of debt in order to insure a happy and +respected life. What is your father, Mr. Stone? Royal +Navy! Well, it is a glorious service. I have had a +touch of it myself. Did I ever tell you how we laid aboard +the French sloop of war <i>Minerve</i>—hey, +Tregellis?”</p> +<p>“No, sir,” said my uncle. Sheridan and +Francis exchanged glances behind the Prince’s back.</p> +<p>“She was flying her tricolour out there within sight of +my pavilion windows. Never saw such monstrous impudence in +my life! It would take a man of less mettle than me to +stand it. Out I went in my little cock-boat—you know +my sixty-ton yawl, Charlie?—with two four-pounders on each +side, and a six-pounder in the bows.”</p> +<p>“Well, sir! Well, sir! And what then, +sir?” cried Francis, who appeared to be an irascible, +rough-tongued man.</p> +<p>“You will permit me to tell the story in my own way, Sir +Philip,” said the Prince, with dignity. “I was +about to say that our metal was so light that I give you my word, +gentlemen, that I carried my port broadside in one coat pocket, +and my starboard in the other. Up we came to the big +Frenchman, took her fire, and scraped the paint off her before we +let drive. But it was no use. By George, gentlemen, +our balls just stuck in her timbers like stones in a mud +wall. She had her nettings up, but we scrambled aboard, and +at it we went hammer and anvil. It was a sharp twenty +minutes, but we beat her people down below, made the hatches fast +on them, and towed her into Seaham. Surely you were with +us, Sherry?”</p> +<p>“I was in London at the time,” said Sheridan, +gravely.</p> +<p>“You can vouch for it, Francis!”</p> +<p>“I can vouch to having heard your Highness tell the +story.”</p> +<p>“It was a rough little bit of cutlass and pistol +work. But, for my own part, I like the rapier. +It’s a gentleman’s weapon. You heard of my bout +with the Chevalier d’Eon? I had him at my sword-point +for forty minutes at Angelo’s. He was one of the best +blades in Europe, but I was a little too supple in the wrist for +him. ‘I thank God there was a button on your +Highness’s foil,’ said he, when we had finished our +breather. By the way, you’re a bit of a duellist +yourself, Tregellis. How often have you been +out?”</p> +<p>“I used to go when I needed exercise,” said my +uncle, carelessly. “But I have taken to tennis now +instead. A painful incident happened the last time that I +was out, and it sickened me of it.”</p> +<p>“You killed your man—?”</p> +<p>“No, no, sir, it was worse than that. I had a coat +that Weston has never equalled. To say that it fitted me is +not to express it. It <i>was</i> me—like the hide on +a horse. I’ve had sixty from him since, but he could +never approach it. The sit of the collar brought tears into +my eyes, sir, when first I saw it; and as to the +waist—”</p> +<p>“But the duel, Tregellis!” cried the Prince.</p> +<p>“Well, sir, I wore it at the duel, like the thoughtless +fool that I was. It was Major Hunter, of the Guards, with +whom I had had a little <i>tracasserie</i>, because I hinted that +he should not come into Brookes’s smelling of the +stables. I fired first, and missed. He fired, and I +shrieked in despair. ‘He’s hit! A +surgeon! A surgeon!’ they cried. ‘A +tailor! A tailor!’ said I, for there was a double +hole through the tails of my masterpiece. No, it was past +all repair. You may laugh, sir, but I’ll never see +the like of it again.”</p> +<p>I had seated myself on a settee in the corner, upon the +Prince’s invitation, and very glad I was to remain quiet +and unnoticed, listening to the talk of these men. It was +all in the same extravagant vein, garnished with many senseless +oaths; but I observed this difference, that, whereas my uncle and +Sheridan had something of humour in their exaggeration, Francis +tended always to ill-nature, and the Prince to +self-glorification. Finally, the conversation turned to +music—I am not sure that my uncle did not artfully bring it +there, and the Prince, hearing from him of my tastes, would have +it that I should then and there sit down at the wonderful little +piano, all inlaid with mother-of-pearl, which stood in the +corner, and play him the accompaniment to his song. It was +called, as I remember, “The Briton Conquers but to +Save,” and he rolled it out in a very fair bass voice, the +others joining in the chorus, and clapping vigorously when he +finished.</p> +<p>“Bravo, Mr. Stone!” said he. “You have +an excellent touch; and I know what I am talking about when I +speak of music. Cramer, of the Opera, said only the other +day that he had rather hand his bâton to me than to any +amateur in England. Halloa, it’s Charlie Fox, by all +that’s wonderful!”</p> +<p>He had run forward with much warmth, and was shaking the hand +of a singular-looking person who had just entered the room. +The new-comer was a stout, square-built man, plainly and almost +carelessly dressed, with an uncouth manner and a rolling +gait. His age might have been something over fifty, and his +swarthy, harshly-featured face was already deeply lined either by +his years or by his excesses. I have never seen a +countenance in which the angel and the devil were more obviously +wedded. Above, was the high, broad forehead of the +philosopher, with keen, humorous eyes looking out from under +thick, strong brows. Below, was the heavy jowl of the +sensualist curving in a broad crease over his cravat. That +brow was the brow of the public Charles Fox, the thinker, the +philanthropist, the man who rallied and led the Liberal party +during the twenty most hazardous years of its existence. +That jaw was the jaw of the private Charles Fox, the gambler, the +libertine, the drunkard. Yet to his sins he never added the +crowning one of hypocrisy. His vices were as open as his +virtues. In some quaint freak of Nature, two spirits seemed +to have been joined in one body, and the same frame to contain +the best and the worst man of his age.</p> +<p>“I’ve run down from Chertsey, sir, just to shake +you by the hand, and to make sure that the Tories have not +carried you off.”</p> +<p>“Hang it, Charlie, you know that I sink or swim with my +friends! A Whig I started, and a Whig I shall +remain.”</p> +<p>I thought that I could read upon Fox’s dark face that he +was by no means so confident about the Prince’s +principles.</p> +<p>“Pitt has been at you, sir, I understand?”</p> +<p>“Yes, confound him! I hate the sight of that +sharp-pointed snout of his, which he wants to be ever poking into +my affairs. He and Addington have been boggling about the +debts again. Why, look ye, Charlie, if Pitt held me in +contempt he could not behave different.”</p> +<p>I gathered from the smile which flitted over Sheridan’s +expressive face that this was exactly what Pitt did do. But +straightway they all plunged into politics, varied by the +drinking of sweet maraschino, which a footman brought round upon +a salver. The King, the Queen, the Lords, and the Commons +were each in succession cursed by the Prince, in spite of the +excellent advice which he had given me about the British +Constitution.</p> +<p>“Why, they allow me so little that I can’t look +after my own people. There are a dozen annuities to old +servants and the like, and it’s all I can do to scrape the +money together to pay them. However, my”—he +pulled himself up and coughed in a consequential +way—“my financial agent has arranged for a loan, +repayable upon the King’s death. This liqueur +isn’t good for either of us, Charlie. We’re +both getting monstrous stout.”</p> +<p>“I can’t get any exercise for the gout,” +said Fox.</p> +<p>“I am blooded fifty ounces a month, but the more I take +the more I make. You wouldn’t think, to look at us, +Tregellis, that we could do what we have done. We’ve +had some days and nights together, Charlie!”</p> +<p>Fox smiled and shook his head.</p> +<p>“You remember how we posted to Newmarket before the +races. We took a public coach, Tregellis, clapped the +postillions into the rumble, and jumped on to their places. +Charlie rode the leader and I the wheeler. One fellow +wouldn’t let us through his turnpike, and Charlie hopped +off and had his coat off in a minute. The fellow thought he +had to do with a fighting man, and soon cleared the way for +us.”</p> +<p>“By the way, sir, speaking of fighting men, I give a +supper to the Fancy at the Waggon and Horses on Friday +next,” said my uncle. “If you should chance to +be in town, they would think it a great honour if you should +condescend to look in upon us.”</p> +<p>“I’ve not seen a fight since I saw Tom Tyne, the +tailor, kill Earl fourteen years ago. I swore off then, and +you know me as a man of my word, Tregellis. Of course, +I’ve been at the ringside <i>incog.</i> many a time, but +never as the Prince of Wales.”</p> +<p>“We should be vastly honoured if you would come +<i>incog.</i> to our supper, sir.”</p> +<p>“Well, well, Sherry, make a note of it. +We’ll be at Carlton House on Friday. The Prince +can’t come, you know, Tregellis, but you might reserve a +chair for the Earl of Chester.”</p> +<p>“Sir, we shall be proud to see the Earl of Chester +there,” said my uncle.</p> +<p>“By the way, Tregellis,” said Fox, +“there’s some rumour about your having a sporting bet +with Sir Lothian Hume. What’s the truth of +it?”</p> +<p>“Only a small matter of a couple of thous to a thou, he +giving the odds. He has a fancy to this new Gloucester man, +Crab Wilson, and I’m to find a man to beat him. +Anything under twenty or over thirty-five, at or about thirteen +stone.”</p> +<p>“You take Charlie Fox’s advice, then,” cried +the Prince. “When it comes to handicapping a horse, +playing a hand, matching a cock, or picking a man, he has the +best judgment in England. Now, Charlie, whom have we upon +the list who can beat Crab Wilson, of Gloucester?”</p> +<p>I was amazed at the interest and knowledge which all these +great people showed about the ring, for they not only had the +deeds of the principal men of the time—Belcher, Mendoza, +Jackson, or Dutch Sam—at their fingers’ ends, but +there was no fighting man so obscure that they did not know the +details of his deeds and prospects. The old ones and then +the young were discussed—their weight, their gameness, +their hitting power, and their constitution. Who, as he saw +Sheridan and Fox eagerly arguing as to whether Caleb Baldwin, the +Westminster costermonger, could hold his own with Isaac Bittoon, +the Jew, would have guessed that the one was the deepest +political philosopher in Europe, and that the other would be +remembered as the author of the wittiest comedy and of the finest +speech of his generation?</p> +<p>The name of Champion Harrison came very early into the +discussion, and Fox, who had a high idea of Crab Wilson’s +powers, was of opinion that my uncle’s only chance lay in +the veteran taking the field again. “He may be slow +on his pins, but he fights with his head, and he hits like the +kick of a horse. When he finished Black Baruk the man flew +across the outer ring as well as the inner, and fell among the +spectators. If he isn’t absolutely stale, Tregellis, +he is your best chance.”</p> +<p>My uncle shrugged his shoulders.</p> +<p>“If poor Avon were here we might do something with him, +for he was Harrison’s first patron, and the man was devoted +to him. But his wife is too strong for me. And now, +sir, I must leave you, for I have had the misfortune to-day to +lose the best valet in England, and I must make inquiry for +him. I thank your Royal Highness for your kindness in +receiving my nephew in so gracious a fashion.”</p> +<p>“Till Friday, then,” said the Prince, holding out +his hand. “I have to go up to town in any case, for +there is a poor devil of an East India Company’s officer +who has written to me in his distress. If I can raise a few +hundreds, I shall see him and set things right for him. +Now, Mr. Stone, you have your life before you, and I hope it will +be one which your uncle may be proud of. You will honour +the King, and show respect for the Constitution, Mr. Stone. +And, hark ye, you will avoid debt, and bear in mind that your +honour is a sacred thing.”</p> +<p>So I carried away a last impression of his sensual, +good-humoured face, his high cravat, and his broad leather +thighs. Again we passed the strange rooms, the gilded +monsters, and the gorgeous footmen, and it was with relief that I +found myself out in the open air once more, with the broad blue +sea in front of us, and the fresh evening breeze upon our +faces.</p> +<h2><a name="page121"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +121</span>CHAPTER VIII.<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">THE BRIGHTON ROAD.</span></h2> +<p><span class="smcap">My</span> uncle and I were up betimes next +morning, but he was much out of temper, for no news had been +heard of his valet Ambrose. He had indeed become like one +of those ants of which I have read, who are so accustomed to be +fed by smaller ants that when they are left to themselves they +die of hunger. It was only by the aid of a man whom the +landlord procured, and of Fox’s valet, who had been sent +expressly across, that his toilet was at last performed.</p> +<p>“I must win this race, nephew,” said he, when he +had finished breakfast; “I can’t afford to be +beat. Look out of the window and see if the Lades are +there.”</p> +<p>“I see a red four-in-hand in the square, and there is a +crowd round it. Yes, I see the lady upon the box +seat.”</p> +<p>“Is our tandem out?”</p> +<p>“It is at the door.”</p> +<p>“Come, then, and you shall have such a drive as you +never had before.”</p> +<p>He stood at the door pulling on his long brown +driving-gauntlets and giving his orders to the ostlers.</p> +<p>“Every ounce will tell,” said he. +“We’ll leave that dinner-basket behind. And you +can keep my dog for me, Coppinger. You know him and +understand him. Let him have his warm milk and +curaçoa the same as usual. Whoa, my darlings, +you’ll have your fill of it before you reach Westminster +Bridge.”</p> +<p>“Shall I put in the toilet-case?” asked the +landlord. I saw the struggle upon my uncle’s face, +but he was true to his principles.</p> +<p>“Put it under the seat—the front seat,” said +he. “Nephew, you must keep your weight as far forward +as possible. Can you do anything on a yard of tin? +Well, if you can’t, we’ll leave the trumpet. +Buckle that girth up, Thomas. Have you greased the hubs, as +I told you? Well, jump up, nephew, and we’ll see them +off.”</p> +<p>Quite a crowd had gathered in the Old Square: men and women, +dark-coated tradesmen, bucks from the Prince’s Court, and +officers from Hove, all in a buzz of excitement; for Sir John +Lade and my uncle were two of the most famous whips of the time, +and a match between them was a thing to talk of for many a long +day.</p> +<p>“The Prince will be sorry to have missed the +start,” said my uncle. “He doesn’t show +before midday. Ah, Jack, good morning! Your servant, +madam! It’s a fine day for a little bit of +waggoning.”</p> +<p>As our tandem came alongside of the four-in-hand, with the two +bonny bay mares gleaming like shot-silk in the sunshine, a murmur +of admiration rose from the crowd. My uncle, in his +fawn-coloured driving-coat, with all his harness of the same +tint, looked the ideal of a Corinthian whip; while Sir John Lade, +with his many-caped coat, his white hat, and his rough, +weather-beaten face, might have taken his seat with a line of +professionals upon any ale-house bench without any one being able +to pick him out as one of the wealthiest landowners in +England. It was an age of eccentricity, but he had carried +his peculiarities to a length which surprised even the +out-and-outers by marrying the sweetheart of a famous highwayman +when the gallows had come between her and her lover. She +was perched by his side, looking very smart in a flowered bonnet +and grey travelling-dress, while in front of them the four +splendid coal-black horses, with a flickering touch of gold upon +their powerful, well-curved quarters, were pawing the dust in +their eagerness to be off.</p> +<p>“It’s a hundred that you don’t see us before +Westminster with a quarter of an hour’s start,” said +Sir John.</p> +<p>“I’ll take you another hundred that we pass +you,” answered my uncle.</p> +<p>“Very good. Time’s up. +Good-bye!” He gave a <i>tchk</i> of the tongue, shook +his reins, saluted with his whip; in true coachman’s style, +and away he went, taking the curve out of the square in a +workmanlike fashion that fetched a cheer from the crowd. We +heard the dwindling roar of the wheels upon the cobblestones +until they died away in the distance.</p> +<p>It seemed one of the longest quarters of an hour that I had +ever known before the first stroke of nine boomed from the parish +clock. For my part, I was fidgeting in my seat in my +impatience, but my uncle’s calm, pale face and large blue +eyes were as tranquil and demure as those of the most unconcerned +spectator. He was keenly on the alert, however, and it +seemed to me that the stroke of the clock and the thong of his +whip fell together—not in a blow, but in a sharp snap over +the leader, which sent us flying with a jingle and a rattle upon +our fifty miles’ journey. I heard a roar from behind +us, saw the gliding lines of windows with staring faces and +waving handkerchiefs, and then we were off the stones and on to +the good white road which curved away in front of us, with the +sweep of the green downs upon either side.</p> +<p>I had been provided with shillings that the turnpike-gate +might not stop us, but my uncle reined in the mares and took them +at a very easy trot up all the heavy stretch which ends in +Clayton Hill. He let them go then, and we flashed through +Friar’s Oak and across St. John’s Common without more +than catching a glimpse of the yellow cottage which contained all +that I loved best. Never have I travelled at such a pace, +and never have I felt such a sense of exhilaration from the rush +of keen upland air upon our faces, and from the sight of those +two glorious creatures stretched to their utmost, with the roar +of their hoofs and the rattle of our wheels as the light curricle +bounded and swayed behind them.</p> +<p>“It’s a long four miles uphill from here to Hand +Cross,” said my uncle, as we flew through Cuckfield. +“I must ease them a bit, for I cannot afford to break the +hearts of my cattle. They have the right blood in them, and +they would gallop until they dropped if I were brute enough to +let them. Stand up on the seat, nephew, and see if you can +get a glimpse of them.”</p> +<p>I stood up, steadying myself upon my uncle’s shoulder, +but though I could see for a mile, or perhaps a quarter more, +there was not a sign of the four-in-hand.</p> +<p>“If he has sprung his cattle up all these hills +they’ll be spent ere they see Croydon,” said he.</p> +<p>“They have four to two,” said I.</p> +<p>“<i>J’en suis bien sûr</i>. Sir +John’s black strain makes a good, honest creature, but not +fliers like these. There lies Cuckfield Place, where the +towers are, yonder. Get your weight right forward on the +splashboard now that we are going uphill, nephew. Look at +the action of that leader: did ever you see anything more easy +and more beautiful?”</p> +<p>We were taking the hill at a quiet trot, but even so, we made +the carrier, walking in the shadow of his huge, broad-wheeled, +canvas-covered waggon, stare at us in amazement. Close to +Hand Cross we passed the Royal Brighton stage, which had left at +half-past seven, dragging heavily up the slope, and its +passengers, toiling along through the dust behind, gave us a +cheer as we whirled by. At Hand Cross we caught a glimpse +of the old landlord, hurrying out with his gin and his +gingerbread; but the dip of the ground was downwards now, and +away we flew as fast as eight gallant hoofs could take us.</p> +<p>“Do you drive, nephew?”</p> +<p>“Very little, sir.”</p> +<p>“There is no driving on the Brighton Road.”</p> +<p>“How is that, sir?”</p> +<p>“Too good a road, nephew. I have only to give them +their heads, and they will race me into Westminster. It +wasn’t always so. When I was a very young man one +might learn to handle his twenty yards of tape here as well as +elsewhere. There’s not much really good waggoning now +south of Leicestershire. Show me a man who can hit +’em and hold ’em on a Yorkshire dale-side, and +that’s the man who comes from the right school.”</p> +<p>We had raced over Crawley Down and into the broad main street +of Crawley village, flying between two country waggons in a way +which showed me that even now a driver might do something on the +road. With every turn I peered ahead, looking for our +opponents, but my uncle seemed to concern himself very little +about them, and occupied himself in giving me advice, mixed up +with so many phrases of the craft, that it was all that I could +do to follow him.</p> +<p>“Keep a finger for each, or you will have your reins +clubbed,” said he. “As to the whip, the less +fanning the better if you have willing cattle; but when you want +to put a little life into a coach, see that you get your thong on +to the one that needs it, and don’t let it fly round after +you’ve hit. I’ve seen a driver warm up the +off-side passenger on the roof behind him every time he tried to +cut his off-side wheeler. I believe that is their dust over +yonder.”</p> +<p>A long stretch of road lay before us, barred with the shadows +of wayside trees. Through the green fields a lazy blue +river was drawing itself slowly along, passing under a bridge in +front of us. Beyond was a young fir plantation, and over +its olive line there rose a white whirl which drifted swiftly, +like a cloud-scud on a breezy day.</p> +<p>“Yes, yes, it’s they!” cried my uncle. +“No one else would travel as fast. Come, nephew, +we’re half-way when we cross the mole at Kimberham Bridge, +and we’ve done it in two hours and fourteen minutes. +The Prince drove to Carlton House with a three tandem in four +hours and a half. The first half is the worst half, and we +might cut his time if all goes well. We should make up +between this and Reigate.”</p> +<p>And we flew. The bay mares seemed to know what that +white puff in front of us signified, and they stretched +themselves like greyhounds. We passed a phaeton and pair +London-bound, and we left it behind as if it had been standing +still. Trees, gates, cottages went dancing by. We +heard the folks shouting from the fields, under the impression +that we were a runaway. Faster and faster yet they raced, +the hoofs rattling like castanets, the yellow manes flying, the +wheels buzzing, and every joint and rivet creaking and groaning, +while the curricle swung and swayed until I found myself +clutching to the side-rail. My uncle eased them and glanced +at his watch as we saw the grey tiles and dingy red houses of +Reigate in the hollow beneath us.</p> +<p>“We did the last six well under twenty minutes,” +said he. “We’ve time in hand now, and a little +water at the Red Lion will do them no harm. Red +four-in-hand passed, ostler?”</p> +<p>“Just gone, sir.”</p> +<p>“Going hard?”</p> +<p>“Galloping full split, sir! Took the wheel off a +butcher’s cart at the corner of the High Street, and was +out o’ sight before the butcher’s boy could see what +had hurt him.”</p> +<p><i>Z-z-z-z-ack</i>! went the long thong, and away we flew once +more. It was market day at Redhill, and the road was +crowded with carts of produce, droves of bullocks, and +farmers’ gigs. It was a sight to see how my uncle +threaded his way amongst them all. Through the market-place +we dashed amidst the shouting of men, the screaming of women, and +the scuttling of poultry, and then we were out in the country +again, with the long, steep incline of the Redhill Road before +us. My uncle waved his whip in the air with a shrill +view-halloa.</p> +<p>There was the dust-cloud rolling up the hill in front of us, +and through it we had a shadowy peep of the backs of our +opponents, with a flash of brass-work and a gleam of scarlet.</p> +<p>“There’s half the game won, nephew. Now we +must pass them. Hark forrard, my beauties! By George, +if Kitty isn’t foundered!”</p> +<p>The leader had suddenly gone dead lame. In an instant we +were both out of the curricle and on our knees beside her. +It was but a stone, wedged between frog and shoe in the off +fore-foot, but it was a minute or two before we could wrench it +out. When we had regained our places the Lades were round +the curve of the hill and out of sight.</p> +<p>“Bad luck!” growled my uncle. “But +they can’t get away from us!” For the first +time he touched the mares up, for he had but cracked the whip +over their heads before. “If we catch them in the +next few miles we can spare them for the rest of the +way.”</p> +<p>They were beginning to show signs of exhaustion. Their +breath came quick and hoarse, and their beautiful coats were +matted with moisture. At the top of the hill, however, they +settled down into their swing once more.</p> +<p>“Where on earth have they got to?” cried my +uncle. “Can you make them out on the road, +nephew?”</p> +<p>We could see a long white ribbon of it, all dotted with carts +and waggons coming from Croydon to Redhill, but there was no sign +of the big red four-in-hand.</p> +<p>“There they are! Stole away! Stole +away!” he cried, wheeling the mares round into a side road +which struck to the right out of that which we had +travelled. “There they are, nephew! On the brow +of the hill!”</p> +<p>Sure enough, on the rise of a curve upon our right the +four-in-hand had appeared, the horses stretched to the +utmost. Our mares laid themselves out gallantly, and the +distance between us began slowly to decrease. I found that +I could see the black band upon Sir John’s white hat, then +that I could count the folds of his cape; finally, that I could +see the pretty features of his wife as she looked back at us.</p> +<p>“We’re on the side road to Godstone and +Warlingham,” said my uncle. “I suppose he +thought that he could make better time by getting out of the way +of the market carts. But we’ve got the deuce of a +hill to come down. You’ll see some fun, nephew, or I +am mistaken.”</p> +<p>As he spoke I suddenly saw the wheels of the four-in-hand +disappear, then the body of it, and then the two figures upon the +box, as suddenly and abruptly as if it had bumped down the first +three steps of some gigantic stairs. An instant later we +had reached the same spot, and there was the road beneath us, +steep and narrow, winding in long curves into the valley. +The four-in-hand was swishing down it as hard as the horses could +gallop.</p> +<p>“Thought so!” cried my uncle. “If he +doesn’t brake, why should I? Now, my darlings, one +good spurt, and we’ll show them the colour of our +tailboard.”</p> +<p>We shot over the brow and flew madly down the hill with the +great red coach roaring and thundering before us. Already +we were in her dust, so that we could see nothing but the dim +scarlet blur in the heart of it, rocking and rolling, with its +outline hardening at every stride. We could hear the crack +of the whip in front of us, and the shrill voice of Lady Lade as +she screamed to the horses. My uncle was very quiet, but +when I glanced up at him I saw that his lips were set and his +eyes shining, with just a little flush upon each pale +cheek. There was no need to urge on the mares, for they +were already flying at a pace which could neither be stopped nor +controlled. Our leader’s head came abreast of the off +hind wheel, then of the off front one—then for a hundred +yards we did not gain an inch, and then with a spurt the bay +leader was neck to neck with the black wheeler, and our fore +wheel within an inch of their hind one.</p> +<p>“Dusty work!” said my uncle, quietly.</p> +<p>“Fan ’em, Jack! Fan ’em!” +shrieked the lady.</p> +<p>He sprang up and lashed at his horses.</p> +<p>“Look out, Tregellis!” he shouted. +“There’s a damnation spill coming for +somebody.”</p> +<p>We had got fairly abreast of them now, the rumps of the horses +exactly a-line and the fore wheels whizzing together. There +was not six inches to spare in the breadth of the road, and every +instant I expected to feel the jar of a locking wheel. But +now, as we came out from the dust, we could see what was ahead, +and my uncle whistled between his teeth at the sight.</p> +<p>Two hundred yards or so in front of us there was a bridge, +with wooden posts and rails upon either side. The road +narrowed down at the point, so that it was obvious that the two +carriages abreast could not possibly get over. One must +give way to the other. Already our wheels were abreast of +their wheelers.</p> +<p>“I lead!” shouted my uncle. “You must +pull them, Lade!”</p> +<p>“Not I!” he roared.</p> +<p>“No, by George!” shrieked her ladyship. +“Fan ’em, Jack; keep on fanning ’em!”</p> +<p>It seemed to me that we were all going to eternity +together. But my uncle did the only thing that could have +saved us. By a desperate effort we might just clear the +coach before reaching the mouth of the bridge. He sprang +up, and lashed right and left at the mares, who, maddened by the +unaccustomed pain, hurled themselves on in a frenzy. Down +we thundered together, all shouting, I believe, at the top of our +voices in the madness of the moment; but still we were drawing +steadily away, and we were almost clear of the leaders when we +flew on to the bridge. I glanced back at the coach, and I +saw Lady Lade, with her savage little white teeth clenched +together, throw herself forward and tug with both hands at the +off-side reins.</p> +<p>“Jam them, Jack!” she cried. “Jam +the—before they can pass.”</p> +<p>Had she done it an instant sooner we should have crashed +against the wood-work, carried it away, and been hurled into the +deep gully below. As it was, it was not the powerful haunch +of the black leader which caught our wheel, but the forequarter, +which had not weight enough to turn us from our course. I +saw a red wet seam gape suddenly through the black hair, and next +instant we were flying alone down the road, whilst the +four-in-hand had halted, and Sir John and his lady were down in +the road together tending to the wounded horse.</p> +<p>“Easy now, my beauties!” cried my uncle, settling +down into his seat again, and looking back over his +shoulder. “I could not have believed that Sir John +Lade would have been guilty of such a trick as pulling that +leader across. I do not permit a <i>mauvaise +plaisanterie</i> of that sort. He shall hear from me +to-night.”</p> +<p>“It was the lady,” said I.</p> +<p>My uncle’s brow cleared, and he began to laugh.</p> +<p>“It was little Letty, was it?” said he. +“I might have known it. There’s a touch of the +late lamented Sixteen-string Jack about the trick. Well, it +is only messages of another kind that I send to a lady, so +we’ll just drive on our way, nephew, and thank our stars +that we bring whole bones over the Thames.”</p> +<p>We stopped at the Greyhound, at Croydon, where the two good +little mares were sponged and petted and fed, after which, at an +easier pace, we made our way through Norbury and Streatham. +At last the fields grew fewer and the walls longer. The +outlying villas closed up thicker and thicker, until their +shoulders met, and we were driving between a double line of +houses with garish shops at the corners, and such a stream of +traffic as I had never seen, roaring down the centre. Then +suddenly we were on a broad bridge with a dark coffee-brown river +flowing sulkily beneath it, and bluff-bowed barges drifting down +upon its bosom. To right and left stretched a broken, +irregular line of many-coloured houses winding along either bank +as far as I could see.</p> +<p>“That’s the House of Parliament, nephew,” +said my uncle, pointing with his whip, “and the black +towers are Westminster Abbey. How do, your Grace? How +do? That’s the Duke of Norfolk—the stout man in +blue upon the swish-tailed mare. Now we are in +Whitehall. There’s the Treasury on the left, and the +Horse Guards, and the Admiralty, where the stone dolphins are +carved above the gate.”</p> +<p>I had the idea, which a country-bred lad brings up with him, +that London was merely a wilderness of houses, but I was +astonished now to see the green slopes and the lovely spring +trees showing between.</p> +<p>“Yes, those are the Privy Gardens,” said my uncle, +“and there is the window out of which Charles took his last +step on to the scaffold. You wouldn’t think the mares +had come fifty miles, would you? See how <i>les petites +cheries</i> step out for the credit of their master. Look +at the barouche, with the sharp-featured man peeping out of the +window. That’s Pitt, going down to the House. +We are coming into Pall Mall now, and this great building on the +left is Carlton House, the Prince’s Palace. +There’s St. James’s, the big, dingy place with the +clock, and the two red-coated sentries before it. And +here’s the famous street of the same name, nephew, which is +the very centre of the world, and here’s Jermyn Street +opening out of it, and finally, here’s my own little box, +and we are well under the five hours from Brighton Old +Square.”</p> +<h2><a name="page136"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +136</span>CHAPTER IX.<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">WATIER’S.</span></h2> +<p><span class="smcap">My</span> uncle’s house in Jermyn +Street was quite a small one—five rooms and an attic. +“A man-cook and a cottage,” he said, “are all +that a wise man requires.” On the other hand, it was +furnished with the neatness and taste which belonged to his +character, so that his most luxurious friends found something in +the tiny rooms which made them discontented with their own +sumptuous mansions. Even the attic, which had been +converted into my bedroom, was the most perfect little bijou +attic that could possibly be imagined. Beautiful and +valuable knick-knacks filled every corner of every apartment, and +the house had become a perfect miniature museum which would have +delighted a virtuoso. My uncle explained the presence of +all these pretty things with a shrug of his shoulders and a wave +of his hands. “They are <i>des petites +cadeaux</i>,” said he, “but it would be an +indiscretion for me to say more.”</p> +<p>We found a note from Ambrose waiting for us which increased +rather than explained the mystery of his disappearance.</p> +<p>“My dear Sir Charles Tregellis,” it ran, “it +will ever be a subject of regret to me that the force of +circumstances should have compelled me to leave your service in +so abrupt a fashion, but something occurred during our journey +from Friar’s Oak to Brighton which left me without any +possible alternative. I trust, however, that my absence may +prove to be but a temporary one. The isinglass recipe for +the shirt-fronts is in the strong-box at Drummond’s +Bank.—Yours obediently, AMBROSE.”</p> +<p>“Well, I suppose I must fill his place as best I +can,” said my uncle, moodily. “But how on earth +could something have occurred to make him leave me at a time when +we were going full-trot down hill in my curricle? I shall +never find his match again either for chocolate or cravats. +<i>Je suis desolé</i>! But now, nephew, we must send +to Weston and have you fitted up. It is not for a gentleman +to go to a shop, but for the shop to come to the gentleman. +Until you have your clothes you must remain <i>en +retraite</i>.”</p> +<p>The measuring was a most solemn and serious function, though +it was nothing to the trying-on two days later, when my uncle +stood by in an agony of apprehension as each garment was +adjusted, he and Weston arguing over every seam and lapel and +skirt until I was dizzy with turning round in front of +them. Then, just as I had hoped that all was settled, in +came young Mr. Brummell, who promised to be an even greater +exquisite than my uncle, and the whole matter had to be thrashed +out between them. He was a good-sized man, this Brummell, +with a long, fair face, light brown hair, and slight sandy +side-whiskers. His manner was languid, his voice drawling, +and while he eclipsed my uncle in the extravagance of his speech, +he had not the air of manliness and decision which underlay all +my kinsman’s affectations.</p> +<p>“Why, George,” cried my uncle, “I thought +you were with your regiment.”</p> +<p>“I’ve sent in my papers,” drawled the +other.</p> +<p>“I thought it would come to that.”</p> +<p>“Yes. The Tenth was ordered to Manchester, and +they could hardly expect me to go to a place like that. +Besides, I found the major monstrous rude.”</p> +<p>“How was that?”</p> +<p>“He expected me to know about his absurd drill, +Tregellis, and I had other things to think of, as you may +suppose. I had no difficulty in taking my right place on +parade, for there was a trooper with a red nose on a flea-bitten +grey, and I had observed that my post was always immediately in +front of him. This saved a great deal of trouble. The +other day, however, when I came on parade, I galloped up one line +and down the other, but the deuce a glimpse could I get of that +long nose of his! Then, just as I was at my wits’ +end, I caught sight of him, alone at one side; so I formed up in +front. It seems he had been put there to keep the ground, +and the major so far forgot himself as to say that I knew nothing +of my duties.”</p> +<p>My uncle laughed, and Brummell looked me up and down with his +large, intolerant eyes.</p> +<p>“These will do very passably,” said he. +“Buff and blue are always very gentlemanlike. But a +sprigged waistcoat would have been better.”</p> +<p>“I think not,” said my uncle, warmly.</p> +<p>“My dear Tregellis, you are infallible upon a cravat, +but you must allow me the right of my own judgment upon +vests. I like it vastly as it stands, but a touch of red +sprig would give it the finish that it needs.”</p> +<p>They argued with many examples and analogies for a good ten +minutes, revolving round me at the same time with their heads on +one side and their glasses to their eyes. It was a relief +to me when they at last agreed upon a compromise.</p> +<p>“You must not let anything I have said shake your faith +in Sir Charles’s judgment, Mr. Stone,” said Brummell, +very earnestly.</p> +<p>I assured him that I should not.</p> +<p>“If you were my nephew, I should expect you to follow my +taste. But you will cut a very good figure as it is. +I had a young cousin who came up to town last year with a +recommendation to my care. But he would take no +advice. At the end of the second week I met him coming down +St. James’s Street in a snuff-coloured coat cut by a +country tailor. He bowed to me. Of course I knew what +was due to myself. I looked all round him, and there was an +end to his career in town. You are from the country, Mr. +Stone?”</p> +<p>“From Sussex, sir.”</p> +<p>“Sussex! Why, that is where I send my washing +to. There is an excellent clear-starcher living near +Hayward’s Heath. I send my shirts two at a time, for +if you send more it excites the woman and diverts her +attention. I cannot abide anything but country +washing. But I should be vastly sorry to have to live +there. What can a man find to do?”</p> +<p>“You don’t hunt, George?”</p> +<p>“When I do, it’s a woman. But surely you +don’t go to hounds, Charles?”</p> +<p>“I was out with the Belvoir last winter.”</p> +<p>“The Belvoir! Did you hear how I smoked +Rutland? The story has been in the clubs this month +past. I bet him that my bag would weigh more than +his. He got three and a half brace, but I shot his +liver-coloured pointer, so he had to pay. But as to +hunting, what amusement can there be in flying about among a +crowd of greasy, galloping farmers? Every man to his own +taste, but Brookes’s window by day and a snug corner of the +macao table at Watier’s by night, give me all I want for +mind and body. You heard how I plucked Montague the +brewer!”</p> +<p>“I have been out of town.”</p> +<p>“I had eight thousand from him at a sitting. +‘I shall drink your beer in future, Mr. Brewer,’ said +I. ‘Every blackguard in London does,’ said +he. It was monstrous impolite of him, but some people +cannot lose with grace. Well, I am going down to Clarges +Street to pay Jew King a little of my interest. Are you +bound that way? Well, good-bye, then! I’ll see +you and your young friend at the club or in the Mall, no +doubt,” and he sauntered off upon his way.</p> +<p>“That young man is destined to take my place,” +said my uncle, gravely, when Brummell had departed. +“He is quite young and of no descent, but he has made his +way by his cool effrontery, his natural taste, and his +extravagance of speech. There is no man who can be impolite +in so polished a fashion. He has a half-smile, and a way of +raising his eyebrows, for which he will be shot one of these +mornings. Already his opinion is quoted in the clubs as a +rival to my own. Well, every man has his day, and when I am +convinced that mine is past, St. James’s Street shall know +me no more, for it is not in my nature to be second to any +man. But now, nephew, in that buff and blue suit you may +pass anywhere; so, if you please, we will step into my +<i>vis-à-vis</i>, and I will show you something of the +town.”</p> +<p>How can I describe all that we saw and all that we did upon +that lovely spring day? To me it was as if I had been +wafted to a fairy world, and my uncle might have been some +benevolent enchanter in a high-collared, long-tailed coat, who +was guiding me about in it. He showed me the West-end +streets, with the bright carriages and the gaily dressed ladies +and sombre-clad men, all crossing and hurrying and recrossing +like an ants’ nest when you turn it over with a +stick. Never had I formed a conception of such endless +banks of houses, and such a ceaseless stream of life flowing +between. Then we passed down the Strand, where the crowd +was thicker than ever, and even penetrated beyond Temple Bar and +into the City, though my uncle begged me not to mention it, for +he would not wish it to be generally known. There I saw the +Exchange and the Bank and Lloyd’s Coffee House, with the +brown-coated, sharp-faced merchants and the hurrying clerks, the +huge horses and the busy draymen. It was a very different +world this from that which we had left in the West—a world +of energy and of strength, where there was no place for the +listless and the idle. Young as I was, I knew that it was +here, in the forest of merchant shipping, in the bales which +swung up to the warehouse windows, in the loaded waggons which +roared over the cobblestones, that the power of Britain +lay. Here, in the City of London, was the taproot from +which Empire and wealth and so many other fine leaves had +sprouted. Fashion and speech and manners may change, but +the spirit of enterprise within that square mile or two of land +must not change, for when it withers all that has grown from it +must wither also.</p> +<p>We lunched at Stephen’s, the fashionable inn in Bond +Street, where I saw a line of tilburys and saddle-horses, which +stretched from the door to the further end of the street. +And thence we went to the Mall in St. James’s Park, and +thence to Brookes’s, the great Whig club, and thence again +to Watier’s, where the men of fashion used to gamble. +Everywhere I met the same sort of men, with their stiff figures +and small waists, all showing the utmost deference to my uncle, +and for his sake an easy tolerance of me. The talk was +always such as I had already heard at the Pavilion: talk of +politics, talk of the King’s health, talk of the +Prince’s extravagance, of the expected renewal of war, of +horse-racing, and of the ring. I saw, too, that +eccentricity was, as my uncle had told me, the fashion; and if +the folk upon the Continent look upon us even to this day as +being a nation of lunatics, it is no doubt a tradition handed +down from the time when the only travellers whom they were likely +to see were drawn from the class which I was now meeting.</p> +<p>It was an age of heroism and of folly. On the one hand +soldiers, sailors, and statesmen of the quality of Pitt, Nelson, +and afterwards Wellington, had been forced to the front by the +imminent menace of Buonaparte. We were great in arms, and +were soon also to be great in literature, for Scott and Byron +were in their day the strongest forces in Europe. On the +other hand, a touch of madness, real or assumed, was a passport +through doors which were closed to wisdom and to virtue. +The man who could enter a drawing-room walking upon his hands, +the man who had filed his teeth that he might whistle like a +coachman, the man who always spoke his thoughts aloud and so kept +his guests in a quiver of apprehension, these were the people who +found it easy to come to the front in London society. Nor +could the heroism and the folly be kept apart, for there were few +who could quite escape the contagion of the times. In an +age when the Premier was a heavy drinker, the Leader of the +Opposition a libertine, and the Prince of Wales a combination of +the two, it was hard to know where to look for a man whose +private and public characters were equally lofty. At the +same time, with all its faults it was a <i>strong</i> age, and +you will be fortunate if in your time the country produces five +such names as Pitt, Fox, Scott, Nelson, and Wellington.</p> +<p>It was in Watier’s that night, seated by my uncle on one +of the red velvet settees at the side of the room, that I had +pointed out to me some of those singular characters whose fame +and eccentricities are even now not wholly forgotten in the +world. The long, many-pillared room, with its mirrors and +chandeliers, was crowded with full-blooded, loud-voiced +men-about-town, all in the same dark evening dress with white +silk stockings, cambric shirt-fronts, and little, flat +chapeau-bras under their arms.</p> +<p>“The acid-faced old gentleman with the thin legs is the +Marquis of Queensberry,” said my uncle. “His +chaise was driven nineteen miles in an hour in a match against +the Count Taafe, and he sent a message fifty miles in thirty +minutes by throwing it from hand to hand in a cricket-ball. +The man he is talking to is Sir Charles Bunbury, of the Jockey +Club, who had the Prince warned off the Heath at Newmarket on +account of the in-and-out riding of Sam Chifney, his +jockey. There’s Captain Barclay going up to them +now. He knows more about training than any man alive, and +he has walked ninety miles in twenty-one hours. You have +only to look at his calves to see that Nature built him for +it. There’s another walker there, the man with a +flowered vest standing near the fireplace. That is Buck +Whalley, who walked to Jerusalem in a long blue coat, top-boots, +and buckskins.”</p> +<p>“Why did he do that, sir?” I asked, in +astonishment.</p> +<p>My uncle shrugged his shoulders.</p> +<p>“It was his humour,” said he. “He +walked into society through it, and that was better worth +reaching than Jerusalem. There’s Lord Petersham, the +man with the beaky nose. He always rises at six in the +evening, and he has laid down the finest cellar of snuff in +Europe. It was he who ordered his valet to put half a dozen +of sherry by his bed and call him the day after to-morrow. +He’s talking to Lord Panmure, who can take his six bottles +of claret and argue with a bishop after it. The lean man +with the weak knees is General Scott who lives upon toast and +water and has won £200,000 at whist. He is talking to +young Lord Blandford who gave £1800 for a Boccaccio the +other day. Evening, Dudley!”</p> +<p>“Evening, Tregellis!” An elderly, +vacant-looking man had stopped before us and was looking me up +and down.</p> +<p>“Some young cub Charlie Tregellis has caught in the +country,” he murmured. “He doesn’t look +as if he would be much credit to him. Been out of town, +Tregellis?”</p> +<p>“For a few days.”</p> +<p>“Hem!” said the man, transferring his sleepy gaze +to my uncle. “He’s looking pretty bad. +He’ll be going into the country feet foremost some of these +days if he doesn’t pull up!” He nodded, and +passed on.</p> +<p>“You mustn’t look so mortified, nephew,” +said my uncle, smiling. “That’s old Lord +Dudley, and he has a trick of thinking aloud. People used +to be offended, but they take no notice of him now. It was +only last week, when he was dining at Lord Elgin’s, that he +apologized to the company for the shocking bad cooking. He +thought he was at his own table, you see. It gives him a +place of his own in society. That’s Lord Harewood he +has fastened on to now. Harewood’s peculiarity is to +mimic the Prince in everything. One day the Prince hid his +queue behind the collar of his coat, so Harewood cut his off, +thinking that they were going out of fashion. Here’s +Lumley, the ugly man. ‘<i>L’homme +laid</i>’ they called him in Paris. The other one is +Lord Foley—they call him No. 11, on account of his thin +legs.”</p> +<p>“There is Mr. Brummell, sir,” said I.</p> +<p>“Yes, he’ll come to us presently. That young +man has certainly a future before him. Do you observe the +way in which he looks round the room from under his drooping +eyelids, as though it were a condescension that he should have +entered it? Small conceits are intolerable, but when they +are pushed to the uttermost they become respectable. How +do, George?”</p> +<p>“Have you heard about Vereker Merton?” asked +Brummell, strolling up with one or two other exquisites at his +heels. “He has run away with his father’s +woman-cook, and actually married her.”</p> +<p>“What did Lord Merton do?”</p> +<p>“He congratulated him warmly, and confessed that he had +always underrated his intelligence. He is to live with the +young couple, and make a handsome allowance on condition that the +bride sticks to her old duties. By the way, there was a +rumour that you were about to marry, Tregellis.”</p> +<p>“I think not,” answered my uncle. “It +would be a mistake to overwhelm one by attentions which are a +pleasure to many.”</p> +<p>“My view, exactly, and very neatly expressed,” +cried Brummell. “Is it fair to break a dozen hearts +in order to intoxicate one with rapture? I’m off to +the Continent next week.”</p> +<p>“Bailiffs?” asked one of his companions.</p> +<p>“Too bad, Pierrepoint. No, no; it is pleasure and +instruction combined. Besides, it is necessary to go to +Paris for your little things, and if there is a chance of the war +breaking out again, it would be well to lay in a +supply.”</p> +<p>“Quite right,” said my uncle, who seemed to have +made up his mind to outdo Brummell in extravagance. +“I used to get my sulphur-coloured gloves from the Palais +Royal. When the war broke out in ’93 I was cut off +from them for nine years. Had it not been for a lugger +which I specially hired to smuggle them, I might have been +reduced to English tan.”</p> +<p>“The English are excellent at a flat-iron or a kitchen +poker, but anything more delicate is beyond them.”</p> +<p>“Our tailors are good,” cried my uncle, “but +our stuffs lack taste and variety. The war has made us more +<i>rococo</i> than ever. It has cut us off from travel, and +there is nothing to match travel for expanding the mind. +Last year, for example, I came upon some new waist-coating in the +Square of San Marco, at Venice. It was yellow, with the +prettiest little twill of pink running through it. How +could I have seen it had I not travelled? I brought it back +with me, and for a time it was all the rage.”</p> +<p>“The Prince took it up.”</p> +<p>“Yes, he usually follows my lead. We dressed so +alike last year that we were frequently mistaken for each +other. It tells against me, but so it was. He often +complains that things do not look as well upon him as upon me, +but how can I make the obvious reply? By the way, George, I +did not see you at the Marchioness of Dover’s +ball.”</p> +<p>“Yes, I was there, and lingered for a quarter of an hour +or so. I am surprised that you did not see me. I did +not go past the doorway, however, for undue preference gives rise +to jealousy.”</p> +<p>“I went early,” said my uncle, “for I had +heard that there were to be some tolerable +<i>débutantes</i>. It always pleases me vastly when +I am able to pass a compliment to any of them. It has +happened, but not often, for I keep to my own +standard.”</p> +<p>So they talked, these singular men, and I, looking from one to +the other, could not imagine how they could help bursting out +a-laughing in each other’s faces. But, on the +contrary, their conversation was very grave, and filled out with +many little bows, and opening and shutting of snuff-boxes, and +flickings of laced handkerchiefs. Quite a crowd had +gathered silently around, and I could see that the talk had been +regarded as a contest between two men who were looked upon as +rival arbiters of fashion. It was finished by the Marquis +of Queensberry passing his arm through Brummell’s and +leading him off, while my uncle threw out his laced cambric +shirt-front and shot his ruffles as if he were well satisfied +with his share in the encounter. It is seven-and-forty +years since I looked upon that circle of dandies, and where, now, +are their dainty little hats, their wonderful waistcoats, and +their boots, in which one could arrange one’s cravat? +They lived strange lives, these men, and they died strange +deaths—some by their own hands, some as beggars, some in a +debtor’s gaol, some, like the most brilliant of them all, +in a madhouse in a foreign land.</p> +<p>“There is the card-room, Rodney,” said my uncle, +as we passed an open door on our way out. Glancing in, I +saw a line of little green baize tables with small groups of men +sitting round, while at one side was a longer one, from which +there came a continuous murmur of voices. “You may +lose what you like in there, save only your nerve or your +temper,” my uncle continued. “Ah, Sir Lothian, +I trust that the luck was with you?”</p> +<p>A tall, thin man, with a hard, austere face, had stepped out +of the open doorway. His heavily thatched eyebrows covered +quick, furtive grey eyes, and his gaunt features were hollowed at +the cheek and temple like water-grooved flint. He was +dressed entirely in black, and I noticed that his shoulders +swayed a little as if he had been drinking.</p> +<p>“Lost like the deuce,” he snapped.</p> +<p>“Dice?”</p> +<p>“No, whist.”</p> +<p>“You couldn’t get very hard hit over +that.”</p> +<p>“Couldn’t you?” he snarled. +“Play a hundred a trick and a thousand on the rub, losing +steadily for five hours, and see what you think of it.”</p> +<p>My uncle was evidently struck by the haggard look upon the +other’s face.</p> +<p>“I hope it’s not very bad,” he said.</p> +<p>“Bad enough. It won’t bear talking +about. By the way, Tregellis, have you got your man for +this fight yet?”</p> +<p>“No.”</p> +<p>“You seem to be hanging in the wind a long time. +It’s play or pay, you know. I shall claim forfeit if +you don’t come to scratch.”</p> +<p>“If you will name your day I shall produce my man, Sir +Lothian,” said my uncle, coldly.</p> +<p>“This day four weeks, if you like.”</p> +<p>“Very good. The 18th of May.”</p> +<p>“I hope to have changed my name by then!”</p> +<p>“How is that?” asked my uncle, in surprise.</p> +<p>“It is just possible that I may be Lord Avon.”</p> +<p>“What, you have had some news?” cried my uncle, +and I noticed a tremor in his voice.</p> +<p>“I’ve had my agent over at Monte Video, and he +believes he has proof that Avon died there. Anyhow, it is +absurd to suppose that because a murderer chooses to fly from +justice—”</p> +<p>“I won’t have you use that word, Sir +Lothian,” cried my uncle, sharply.</p> +<p>“You were there as I was. You know that he was a +murderer.”</p> +<p>“I tell you that you shall not say so.”</p> +<p>Sir Lothian’s fierce little grey eyes had to lower +themselves before the imperious anger which shone in my +uncle’s.</p> +<p>“Well, to let that point pass, it is monstrous to +suppose that the title and the estates can remain hung up in this +way for ever. I’m the heir, Tregellis, and I’m +going to have my rights.”</p> +<p>“I am, as you are aware, Lord Avon’s dearest +friend,” said my uncle, sternly. “His +disappearance has not affected my love for him, and until his +fate is finally ascertained, I shall exert myself to see that +<i>his</i> rights also are respected.”</p> +<p>“His rights would be a long drop and a cracked +spine,” Sir Lothian answered, and then, changing his manner +suddenly, he laid his hand upon my uncle’s sleeve.</p> +<p>“Come, come, Tregellis, I was his friend as well as +you,” said he. “But we cannot alter the facts, +and it is rather late in the day for us to fall out over +them. Your invitation holds good for Friday +night?”</p> +<p>“Certainly.”</p> +<p>“I shall bring Crab Wilson with me, and finally arrange +the conditions of our little wager.”</p> +<p>“Very good, Sir Lothian: I shall hope to see +you.” They bowed, and my uncle stood a little time +looking after him as he made his way amidst the crowd.</p> +<p>“A good sportsman, nephew,” said he. +“A bold rider, the best pistol-shot in England, but . . . a +dangerous man!”</p> +<h2><a name="page153"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +153</span>CHAPTER X.<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">THE MEN OF THE RING.</span></h2> +<p><span class="smcap">It</span> was at the end of my first week +in London that my uncle gave a supper to the fancy, as was usual +for gentlemen of that time if they wished to figure before the +public as Corinthians and patrons of sport. He had invited +not only the chief fighting-men of the day, but also those men of +fashion who were most interested in the ring: Mr. Fletcher Reid, +Lord Say and Sele, Sir Lothian Hume, Sir John Lade, Colonel +Montgomery, Sir Thomas Apreece, the Hon. Berkeley Craven, and +many more. The rumour that the Prince was to be present had +already spread through the clubs, and invitations were eagerly +sought after.</p> +<p>The Waggon and Horses was a well-known sporting house, with an +old prize-fighter for landlord. And the arrangements were +as primitive as the most Bohemian could wish. It was one of +the many curious fashions which have now died out, that men who +were <i>blasé</i> from luxury and high living seemed to +find a fresh piquancy in life by descending to the lowest +resorts, so that the night-houses and gambling-dens in Covent +Garden or the Haymarket often gathered illustrious company under +their smoke-blackened ceilings. It was a change for them to +turn their backs upon the cooking of Weltjie and of Ude, or the +chambertin of old Q., and to dine upon a porter-house steak +washed down by a pint of ale from a pewter pot.</p> +<p>A rough crowd had assembled in the street to see the +fighting-men go in, and my uncle warned me to look to my pockets +as we pushed our way through it. Within was a large room +with faded red curtains, a sanded floor, and walls which were +covered with prints of pugilists and race-horses. Brown +liquor-stained tables were dotted about in it, and round one of +these half a dozen formidable-looking men were seated, while one, +the roughest of all, was perched upon the table itself, swinging +his legs to and fro. A tray of small glasses and pewter +mugs stood beside them.</p> +<p>“The boys were thirsty, sir, so I brought up some ale +and some liptrap,” whispered the landlord; “I thought +you would have no objection, sir.”</p> +<p>“Quite right, Bob! How are you all? How are +you, Maddox? How are you, Baldwin? Ah, Belcher, I am +very glad to see you.”</p> +<p>The fighting-men rose and took their hats off, except the +fellow on the table, who continued to swing his legs and to look +my uncle very coolly in the face.</p> +<p>“How are you, Berks?”</p> +<p>“Pretty tidy. ’Ow are you?”</p> +<p>“Say ‘sir’ when you speak to a +genelman,” said Belcher, and with a sudden tilt of the +table he sent Berks flying almost into my uncle’s arms.</p> +<p>“See now, Jem, none o’ that!” said Berks, +sulkily.</p> +<p>“I’ll learn you manners, Joe, which is more than +ever your father did. You’re not drinkin’ +black-jack in a boozin’ ken, but you are meetin’ +noble, slap-up Corinthians, and it’s for you to behave as +such.”</p> +<p>“I’ve always been reckoned a genelman-like sort of +man,” said Berks, thickly, “but if so be as +I’ve said or done what I ’adn’t ought +to—”</p> +<p>“There, there, Berks, that’s all right!” +cried my uncle, only too anxious to smooth things over and to +prevent a quarrel at the outset of the evening. “Here +are some more of our friends. How are you, Apreece? +How are you, Colonel? Well, Jackson, you are looking vastly +better. Good evening, Lade. I trust Lady Lade was +none the worse for our pleasant drive. Ah, Mendoza, you +look fit enough to throw your hat over the ropes this +instant. Sir Lothian, I am glad to see you. You will +find some old friends here.”</p> +<p>Amid the stream of Corinthians and fighting-men who were +thronging into the room I had caught a glimpse of the sturdy +figure and broad, good-humoured face of Champion Harrison. +The sight of him was like a whiff of South Down air coming into +that low-roofed, oil-smelling room, and I ran forward to shake +him by the hand.</p> +<p>“Why, Master Rodney—or I should say Mr. Stone, I +suppose—you’ve changed out of all knowledge. I +can’t hardly believe that it was really you that used to +come down to blow the bellows when Boy Jim and I were at the +anvil. Well, you are fine, to be sure!”</p> +<p>“What’s the news of Friar’s Oak?” I +asked eagerly.</p> +<p>“Your father was down to chat with me, Master Rodney, +and he tells me that the war is going to break out again, and +that he hopes to see you here in London before many days are +past; for he is coming up to see Lord Nelson and to make inquiry +about a ship. Your mother is well, and I saw her in church +on Sunday.”</p> +<p>“And Boy Jim?”</p> +<p>Champion Harrison’s good-humoured face clouded over.</p> +<p>“He’d set his heart very much on comin’ here +to-night, but there were reasons why I didn’t wish him to, +and so there’s a shadow betwixt us. It’s the +first that ever was, and I feel it, Master Rodney. Between +ourselves, I have very good reason to wish him to stay with me, +and I am sure that, with his high spirit and his ideas, he would +never settle down again after once he had a taste o’ +London. I left him behind me with enough work to keep him +busy until I get back to him.”</p> +<p>A tall and beautifully proportioned man, very elegantly +dressed, was strolling towards us. He stared in surprise +and held out his hand to my companion.</p> +<p>“Why, Jack Harrison!” he cried. “This +is a resurrection. Where in the world did you come +from?”</p> +<p>“Glad to see you, Jackson,” said my +companion. “You look as well and as young as +ever.”</p> +<p>“Thank you, yes. I resigned the belt when I could +get no one to fight me for it, and I took to teaching.”</p> +<p>“I’m doing smith’s work down Sussex +way.”</p> +<p>“I’ve often wondered why you never had a shy at my +belt. I tell you honestly, between man and man, I’m +very glad you didn’t.”</p> +<p>“Well, it’s real good of you to say that, +Jackson. I might ha’ done it, perhaps, but the old +woman was against it. She’s been a good wife to me +and I can’t go against her. But I feel a bit lonesome +here, for these boys are since my time.”</p> +<p>“You could do some of them over now,” said +Jackson, feeling my friend’s upper arm. “No +better bit of stuff was ever seen in a twenty-four foot +ring. It would be a rare treat to see you take some of +these young ones on. Won’t you let me spring you on +them?”</p> +<p>Harrison’s eyes glistened at the idea, but he shook his +head.</p> +<p>“It won’t do, Jackson. My old woman holds my +promise. That’s Belcher, ain’t it—the +good lookin’ young chap with the flash coat?”</p> +<p>“Yes, that’s Jem. You’ve not seen +him! He’s a jewel.”</p> +<p>“So I’ve heard. Who’s the youngster +beside him? He looks a tidy chap.”</p> +<p>“That’s a new man from the West. Crab +Wilson’s his name.”</p> +<p>Harrison looked at him with interest. “I’ve +heard of him,” said he. “They are getting a +match on for him, ain’t they?”</p> +<p>“Yes. Sir Lothian Hume, the thin-faced gentleman +over yonder, has backed him against Sir Charles Tregellis’s +man. We’re to hear about the match to-night, I +understand. Jem Belcher thinks great things of Crab +Wilson. There’s Belcher’s young brother, +Tom. He’s looking out for a match, too. They +say he’s quicker than Jem with the mufflers, but he +can’t hit as hard. I was speaking of your brother, +Jem.”</p> +<p>“The young ’un will make his way,” said +Belcher, who had come across to us. “He’s more +a sparrer than a fighter just at present, but when his gristle +sets he’ll take on anything on the list. +Bristol’s as full o’ young fightin’-men now as +a bin is of bottles. We’ve got two more comin’ +up—Gully and Pearce—who’ll make you London +milling coves wish they was back in the west country +again.”</p> +<p>“Here’s the Prince,” said Jackson, as a hum +and bustle rose from the door.</p> +<p>I saw George come bustling in, with a good-humoured smile upon +his comely face. My uncle welcomed him, and led some of the +Corinthians up to be presented.</p> +<p>“We’ll have trouble, gov’nor,” said +Belcher to Jackson. “Here’s Joe Berks +drinkin’ gin out of a mug, and you know what a swine he is +when he’s drunk.”</p> +<p>“You must put a stopper on ’im +gov’nor,” said several of the other +prize-fighters. “’E ain’t what +you’d call a charmer when ’e’s sober, but +there’s no standing ’im when ’e’s +fresh.”</p> +<p>Jackson, on account of his prowess and of the tact which he +possessed, had been chosen as general regulator of the whole +prize-fighting body, by whom he was usually alluded to as the +Commander-in-Chief. He and Belcher went across now to the +table upon which Berks was still perched. The +ruffian’s face was already flushed, and his eyes heavy and +bloodshot.</p> +<p>“You must keep yourself in hand to-night, Berks,” +said Jackson. “The Prince is here, +and—”</p> +<p>“I never set eyes on ’im yet,” cried Berks, +lurching off the table. “Where is ’e, +gov’nor? Tell ’im Joe Berks would like to do +’isself proud by shakin’ ’im by the +’and.”</p> +<p>“No, you don’t, Joe,” said Jackson, laying +his hand upon Berks’s chest, as he tried to push his way +through the crowd. “You’ve got to keep your +place, Joe, or we’ll put you where you can make all the +noise you like.”</p> +<p>“Where’s that, gov’nor?”</p> +<p>“Into the street, through the window. We’re +going to have a peaceful evening, as Jem Belcher and I will show +you if you get up to any of your Whitechapel games.”</p> +<p>“No ’arm, gov’nor,” grumbled +Berks. “I’m sure I’ve always ’ad +the name of bein’ a very genelman-like man.”</p> +<p>“So I’ve always said, Joe Berks, and mind you +prove yourself such. But the supper is ready for us, and +there’s the Prince and Lord Sole going in. Two and +two, lads, and don’t forget whose company you are +in.”</p> +<p>The supper was laid in a large room, with Union Jacks and +mottoes hung thickly upon the walls. The tables were +arranged in three sides of a square, my uncle occupying the +centre of the principal one, with the Prince upon his right and +Lord Sele upon his left. By his wise precaution the seats +had been allotted beforehand, so that the gentlemen might be +scattered among the professionals and no risk run of two enemies +finding themselves together, or a man who had been recently +beaten falling into the company of his conqueror. For my +own part, I had Champion Harrison upon one side of me and a +stout, florid-faced man upon the other, who whispered to me that +he was “Bill Warr, landlord of the One Tun public-house, of +Jermyn Street, and one of the gamest men upon the +list.”</p> +<p>“It’s my flesh that’s beat me, sir,” +said he. “It creeps over me amazin’ fast. +I should fight at thirteen-eight, and ’ere I am nearly +seventeen. It’s the business that does it, what with +loflin’ about behind the bar all day, and bein’ +afraid to refuse a wet for fear of offendin’ a +customer. It’s been the ruin of many a good +fightin’-man before me.”</p> +<p>“You should take to my job,” said Harrison. +“I’m a smith by trade, and I’ve not put on half +a stone in fifteen years.”</p> +<p>“Some take to one thing and some to another, but the +most of us try to ’ave a bar-parlour of our own. +There’s Will Wood, that I beat in forty rounds in the thick +of a snowstorm down Navestock way, ’e drives a +’ackney. Young Firby, the ruffian, ’e’s a +waiter now. Dick ’Umphries sells coals—’e +was always of a genelmanly disposition. George Ingleston is +a brewer’s drayman. We all find our own cribs. +But there’s one thing you are saved by livin’ in the +country, and that is ’avin’ the young Corinthians and +bloods about town smackin’ you eternally in the +face.”</p> +<p>This was the last inconvenience which I should have expected a +famous prize-fighter to be subjected to, but several bull-faced +fellows at the other side of the table nodded their +concurrence.</p> +<p>“You’re right, Bill,” said one of +them. “There’s no one has had more trouble with +them than I have. In they come of an evenin’ into my +bar, with the wine in their heads. ‘Are you Tom Owen +the bruiser?’ says one o’ them. ‘At your +service, sir,’ says I. ‘Take that, then,’ +says he, and it’s a clip on the nose, or a backhanded slap +across the chops as likely as not. Then they can brag all +their lives that they had hit Tom Owen.”</p> +<p>“D’you draw their cork in return?” asked +Harrison.</p> +<p>“I argey it out with them. I say to them, +‘Now, gents, fightin’ is my profession, and I +don’t fight for love any more than a doctor doctors for +love, or a butcher gives away a loin chop. Put up a small +purse, master, and I’ll do you over and proud. But +don’t expect that you’re goin’ to come here and +get glutted by a middle-weight champion for nothing.”</p> +<p>“That’s my way too, Tom,” said my burly +neighbour. “If they put down a guinea on the +counter—which they do if they ’ave been +drinkin’ very ’eavy—I give them what I think is +about a guinea’s worth and take the money.”</p> +<p>“But if they don’t?”</p> +<p>“Why, then, it’s a common assault, d’ye see, +against the body of ’is Majesty’s liege, William +Warr, and I ’as ’em before the beak next +mornin’, and it’s a week or twenty +shillin’s.”</p> +<p>Meanwhile the supper was in full swing—one of those +solid and uncompromising meals which prevailed in the days of +your grandfathers, and which may explain to some of you why you +never set eyes upon that relative.</p> +<p>Great rounds of beef, saddles of mutton, smoking tongues, veal +and ham pies, turkeys and chickens, and geese, with every variety +of vegetables, and a succession of fiery cherries and heavy ales +were the main staple of the feast. It was the same meal and +the same cooking as their Norse or German ancestors might have +sat down to fourteen centuries before, and, indeed, as I looked +through the steam of the dishes at the lines of fierce and rugged +faces, and the mighty shoulders which rounded themselves over the +board, I could have imagined myself at one of those old-world +carousals of which I had read, where the savage company gnawed +the joints to the bone, and then, with murderous horseplay, +hurled the remains at their prisoners. Here and there the +pale, aquiline features of a sporting Corinthian recalled rather +the Norman type, but in the main these stolid, heavy-jowled +faces, belonging to men whose whole life was a battle, were the +nearest suggestion which we have had in modern times of those +fierce pirates and rovers from whose loins we have sprung.</p> +<p>And yet, as I looked carefully from man to man in the line +which faced me, I could see that the English, although they were +ten to one, had not the game entirely to themselves, but that +other races had shown that they could produce fighting-men worthy +to rank with the best.</p> +<p>There were, it is true, no finer or braver men in the room +than Jackson and Jem Belcher, the one with his magnificent +figure, his small waist and Herculean shoulders; the other as +graceful as an old Grecian statue, with a head whose beauty many +a sculptor had wished to copy, and with those long, delicate +lines in shoulder and loins and limbs, which gave him the +litheness and activity of a panther. Already, as I looked +at him, it seemed to me that there was a shadow of tragedy upon +his face, a forecast of the day then but a few months distant +when a blow from a racquet ball darkened the sight of one eye for +ever. Had he stopped there, with his unbeaten career behind +him, then indeed the evening of his life might have been as +glorious as its dawn. But his proud heart could not permit +his title to be torn from him without a struggle. If even +now you can read how the gallant fellow, unable with his one eye +to judge his distances, fought for thirty-five minutes against +his young and formidable opponent, and how, in the bitterness of +defeat, he was heard only to express his sorrow for a friend who +had backed him with all he possessed, and if you are not touched +by the story there must be something wanting in you which should +go to the making of a man.</p> +<p>But if there were no men at the tables who could have held +their own against Jackson or Jem Belcher, there were others of a +different race and type who had qualities which made them +dangerous bruisers. A little way down the room I saw the +black face and woolly head of Bill Richmond, in a purple-and-gold +footman’s livery—destined to be the predecessor of +Molineaux, Sutton, and all that line of black boxers who have +shown that the muscular power and insensibility to pain which +distinguish the African give him a peculiar advantage in the +sports of the ring. He could boast also of the higher +honour of having been the first born American to win laurels in +the British ring. There also I saw the keen features of +Dada Mendoza, the Jew, just retired from active work, and leaving +behind him a reputation for elegance and perfect science which +has, to this day, never been exceeded. The worst fault that +the critics could find with him was that there was a want of +power in his blows—a remark which certainly could not have +been made about his neighbour, whose long face, curved nose, and +dark, flashing eyes proclaimed him as a member of the same +ancient race. This was the formidable Dutch Sam, who fought +at nine stone six, and yet possessed such hitting powers, that +his admirers, in after years, were willing to back him against +the fourteen-stone Tom Cribb, if each were strapped a-straddle to +a bench. Half a dozen other sallow Hebrew faces showed how +energetically the Jews of Houndsditch and Whitechapel had taken +to the sport of the land of their adoption, and that in this, as +in more serious fields of human effort, they could hold their own +with the best.</p> +<p>It was my neighbour Warr who very good-humouredly pointed out +to me all these celebrities, the echoes of whose fame had been +wafted down even to our little Sussex village.</p> +<p>“There’s Andrew Gamble, the Irish champion,” +said he. “It was ’e that beat Noah James, the +Guardsman, and was afterwards nearly killed by Jem Belcher, in +the ’ollow of Wimbledon Common by Abbershaw’s +gibbet. The two that are next ’im are Irish also, +Jack O’Donnell and Bill Ryan. When you get a good +Irishman you can’t better ’em, but they’re +dreadful ’asty. That little cove with the leery face +is Caleb Baldwin the Coster, ’im that they call the Pride +of Westminster. ’E’s but five foot seven, and +nine stone five, but ’e’s got the ’eart of a +giant. ’E’s never been beat, and there +ain’t a man within a stone of ’im that could beat +’im, except only Dutch Sam. There’s George +Maddox, too, another o’ the same breed, and as good a man +as ever pulled his coat off. The genelmanly man that eats +with a fork, ’im what looks like a Corinthian, only that +the bridge of ’is nose ain’t quite as it ought to be, +that’s Dick ’Umphries, the same that was cock of the +middle-weights until Mendoza cut his comb for ’im. +You see the other with the grey ’ead and the scars on his +face?”</p> +<p>“Why, it’s old Tom Faulkner the cricketer!” +cried Harrison, following the line of Bill Warr’s stubby +forefinger. “He’s the fastest bowler in the +Midlands, and at his best there weren’t many boxers in +England that could stand up against him.”</p> +<p>“You’re right there, Jack ’Arrison. +’E was one of the three who came up to fight when the best +men of Birmingham challenged the best men of London. +’E’s an evergreen, is Tom. Why, he was turned +five-and-fifty when he challenged and beat, after fifty minutes +of it, Jack Thornhill, who was tough enough to take it out of +many a youngster. It’s better to give odds in weight +than in years.”</p> +<p>“Youth will be served,” said a crooning voice from +the other side of the table. “Ay, masters, youth will +be served.”</p> +<p>The man who had spoken was the most extraordinary of all the +many curious figures in the room. He was very, very old, so +old that he was past all comparison, and no one by looking at his +mummy skin and fish-like eyes could give a guess at his +years. A few scanty grey hairs still hung about his yellow +scalp. As to his features, they were scarcely human in +their disfigurement, for the deep wrinkles and pouchings of +extreme age had been added to a face which had always been +grotesquely ugly, and had been crushed and smashed in addition by +many a blow. I had noticed this creature at the beginning +of the meal, leaning his chest against the edge of the table as +if its support was a welcome one, and feebly picking at the food +which was placed before him. Gradually, however, as his +neighbours plied him with drink, his shoulders grew squarer, his +back stiffened, his eyes brightened, and he looked about him, +with an air of surprise at first, as if he had no clear +recollection of how he came there, and afterwards with an +expression of deepening interest, as he listened, with his ear +scooped up in his hand, to the conversation around him.</p> +<p>“That’s old Buckhorse,” whispered Champion +Harrison. “He was just the same as that when I joined +the ring twenty years ago. Time was when he was the terror +of London.”</p> +<p>“’E was so,” said Bill Warr. +“’E would fight like a stag, and ’e was that +’ard that ’e would let any swell knock ’im down +for ’alf-a-crown. ’E ’ad no face to +spoil, d’ye see, for ’e was always the ugliest man in +England. But ’e’s been on the shelf now for +near sixty years, and it cost ’im many a beatin’ +before ’e could understand that ’is strength was +slippin’ away from ’im.”</p> +<p>“Youth will be served, masters,” droned the old +man, shaking his head miserably.</p> +<p>“Fill up ’is glass,” said Warr. +“’Ere, Tom, give old Buckhorse a sup o’ +liptrap. Warm his ’eart for ’im.”</p> +<p>The old man poured a glass of neat gin down his shrivelled +throat, and the effect upon him was extraordinary. A light +glimmered in each of his dull eyes, a tinge of colour came into +his wax-like cheeks, and, opening his toothless mouth, he +suddenly emitted a peculiar, bell-like, and most musical +cry. A hoarse roar of laughter from all the company +answered it, and flushed faces craned over each other to catch a +glimpse of the veteran.</p> +<p>“There’s Buckhorse!” they cried. +“Buckhorse is comin’ round again.”</p> +<p>“You can laugh if you vill, masters,” he cried, in +his Lewkner Lane dialect, holding up his two thin, vein-covered +hands. “It von’t be long that you’ll be +able to see my crooks vich ’ave been on Figg’s conk, +and on Jack Broughton’s, and on ’Arry Gray’s, +and many another good fightin’ man that was millin’ +for a livin’ before your fathers could eat pap.”</p> +<p>The company laughed again, and encouraged the old man by +half-derisive and half-affectionate cries.</p> +<p>“Let ’em ’ave it, Buckhorse! Give it +’em straight! Tell us how the millin’ coves did +it in your time.”</p> +<p>The old gladiator looked round him in great contempt.</p> +<p>“Vy, from vot I see,” he cried, in his high, +broken treble, “there’s some on you that ain’t +fit to flick a fly from a joint o’ meat. You’d +make werry good ladies’ maids, the most of you, but you +took the wrong turnin’ ven you came into the +ring.”</p> +<p>“Give ’im a wipe over the mouth,” said a +hoarse voice.</p> +<p>“Joe Berks,” said Jackson, “I’d save +the hangman the job of breaking your neck if His Royal Highness +wasn’t in the room.”</p> +<p>“That’s as it may be, guv’nor,” said +the half-drunken ruffian, staggering to his feet. “If +I’ve said anything wot isn’t +genelmanlike—”</p> +<p>“Sit down, Berks!” cried my uncle, with such a +tone of command that the fellow collapsed into his chair.</p> +<p>“Vy, vitch of you would look Tom Slack in the +face?” piped the old fellow; “or Jack +Broughton?—him vot told the old Dook of Cumberland that all +he vanted vas to fight the King o’ Proosia’s guard, +day by day, year in, year out, until ’e ’ad worked +out the whole regiment of ’em—and the smallest of +’em six foot long. There’s not more’n a +few of you could ’it a dint in a pat o’ butter, and +if you gets a smack or two it’s all over vith you. +Vich among you could get up again after such a vipe as the +Eytalian Gondoleery cove gave to Bob Vittaker?”</p> +<p>“What was that, Buckhorse?” cried several +voices.</p> +<p>“’E came over ’ere from voreign parts, and +’e was so broad ’e ’ad to come edgewise through +the doors. ’E ’ad so, upon my davy! +’E was that strong that wherever ’e ’it the +bone had got to go; and when ’e’d cracked a jaw or +two it looked as though nothing in the country could stan’ +against him. So the King ’e sent one of his genelmen +down to Figg and he said to him: ‘’Ere’s a cove +vot cracks a bone every time ’e lets vly, and it’ll +be little credit to the Lunnon boys if they lets ’im get +avay vithout a vacking.’ So Figg he ups, and he says, +‘I do not know, master, but he may break one of ’is +countrymen’s jawbones vid ’is vist, but I’ll +bring ’im a Cockney lad and ’e shall not be able to +break ’is jawbone with a sledge ’ammer.’ +I was with Figg in Slaughter’s coffee-’ouse, as then +vas, ven ’e says this to the King’s genelman, and I +goes so, I does!” Again he emitted the curious +bell-like cry, and again the Corinthians and the fighting-men +laughed and applauded him.</p> +<p>“His Royal Highness—that is, the Earl of +Chester—would be glad to hear the end of your story, +Buckhorse,” said my uncle, to whom the Prince had been +whispering.</p> +<p>“Vell, your R’yal ’Ighness, it vas like +this. Ven the day came round, all the volk came to +Figg’s Amphitheatre, the same that vos in Tottenham Court, +an’ Bob Vittaker ’e vos there, and the Eytalian +Gondoleery cove ’e vas there, and all the purlitest, +genteelest crowd that ever vos, twenty thousand of ’em, all +sittin’ with their ’eads like purtaties on a barrer, +banked right up round the stage, and me there to pick up Bob, +d’ye see, and Jack Figg ’imself just for fair play to +do vot was right by the cove from voreign parts. They vas +packed all round, the folks was, but down through the middle of +’em was a passage just so as the gentry could come through +to their seats, and the stage it vas of wood, as the custom then +vas, and a man’s ’eight above the ’eads of the +people. Vell, then, ven Bob was put up opposite this great +Eytalian man I says ‘Slap ’im in the vind, +Bob,’ ’cos I could see vid ’alf an eye that he +vas as puffy as a cheesecake; so Bob he goes in, and as he comes +the vorriner let ’im ’ave it amazin’ on the +conk. I ’eard the thump of it, and I kind o’ +velt somethin’ vistle past me, but ven I looked there vas +the Eytalian a feelin’ of ’is muscles in the middle +o’ the stage, and as to Bob, there vern’t no +sign’ of ’im at all no more’n if +’e’d never been.”</p> +<p>His audience was riveted by the old prize-fighter’s +story. “Well,” cried a dozen voices, +“what then, Buckhorse: ’ad ’e swallowed +’im, or what?”</p> +<p>“Yell, boys, that vas vat <i>I</i> wondered, when sudden +I seed two legs a-stickin’ up out o’ the crowd a long +vay off, just like these two vingers, d’ye see, and I +knewed they vas Bob’s legs, seein’ that ’e +’ad kind o’ yellow small clothes vid blue +ribbons—vich blue vas ’is colour—at the +knee. So they up-ended ’im, they did, an’ they +made a lane for ’im an’ cheered ’im to give +’im ’eart, though ’e never lacked for +that. At virst ’e vas that dazed that ’e +didn’t know if ’e vas in church or in +’Orsemonger Gaol; but ven I’d bit ’is two ears +’e shook ’isself together. ‘Ve’ll +try it again, Buck,’ says ’e. ‘The +mark!’ says I. And ’e vinked all that vas left +o’ one eye. So the Eytalian ’e lets swing +again, but Bob ’e jumps inside an’ ’e lets +’im ’ave it plumb square on the meat safe as +’ard as ever the Lord would let ’im put it +in.”</p> +<p>“Well? Well?”</p> +<p>“Vell, the Eytalian ’e got a touch of the gurgles, +an’ ’e shut ’imself right up like a two-foot +rule. Then ’e pulled ’imself straight, +an’ ’e gave the most awful Glory Allelujah screech as +ever you ’eard. Off ’e jumps from the stage +an’ down the passage as ’ard as ’is ’oofs +would carry ’im. Up jumps the ’ole crowd, and +after ’im as ’ard as they could move for +laughin’. They vas lyin’ in the kennel three +deep all down Tottenham Court road wid their ’ands to their +sides just vit to break themselves in two. Vell, ve chased +’im down ’Olburn, an’ down Fleet Street, +an’ down Cheapside, an’ past the ’Change, and +on all the vay to Voppin’ an’ we only catched +’im in the shippin’ office, vere ’e vas +askin’ ’ow soon ’e could get a passage to +voreign parts.”</p> +<p>There was much laughter and clapping of glasses upon the table +at the conclusion of old Buckhorse’s story, and I saw the +Prince of Wales hand something to the waiter, who brought it +round and slipped it into the skinny hand of the veteran, who +spat upon it before thrusting it into his pocket. The table +had in the meanwhile been cleared, and was now studded with +bottles and glasses, while long clay pipes and tobacco-boxes were +handed round. My uncle never smoked, thinking that the +habit might darken his teeth, but many of the Corinthians, and +the Prince amongst the first of them, set the example of lighting +up. All restraint had been done away with, and the +prize-fighters, flushed with wine, roared across the tables to +each other, or shouted their greetings to friends at the other +end of the room. The amateurs, falling into the humour of +their company, were hardly less noisy, and loudly debated the +merits of the different men, criticizing their styles of fighting +before their faces, and making bets upon the results of future +matches.</p> +<p>In the midst of the uproar there was an imperative rap upon +the table, and my uncle rose to speak. As he stood with his +pale, calm face and fine figure, I had never seen him to greater +advantage, for he seemed, with all his elegance, to have a quiet +air of domination amongst these fierce fellows, like a huntsman +walking carelessly through a springing and yapping pack. He +expressed his pleasure at seeing so many good sportsmen under one +roof, and acknowledged the honour which had been done both to his +guests and himself by the presence there that night of the +illustrious personage whom he should refer to as the Earl of +Chester. He was sorry that the season prevented him from +placing game upon the table, but there was so much sitting round +it that it would perhaps be hardly missed (cheers and +laughter). The sports of the ring had, in his opinion, +tended to that contempt of pain and of danger which had +contributed so much in the past to the safety of the country, and +which might, if what he heard was true, be very quickly needed +once more. If an enemy landed upon our shores it was then +that, with our small army, we should be forced to fall back upon +native valour trained into hardihood by the practice and +contemplation of manly sports. In time of peace also the +rules of the ring had been of service in enforcing the principles +of fair play, and in turning public opinion against that use of +the knife or of the boot which was so common in foreign +countries. He begged, therefore, to drink “Success to +the Fancy,” coupled with the name of John Jackson, who +might stand as a type of all that was most admirable in British +boxing.</p> +<p>Jackson having replied with a readiness which many a public +man might have envied, my uncle rose once more.</p> +<p>“We are here to-night,” said he, “not only +to celebrate the past glories of the prize ring, but also to +arrange some sport for the future. It should be easy, now +that backers and fighting men are gathered together under one +roof, to come to terms with each other. I have myself set +an example by making a match with Sir Lothian Hume, the terms of +which will be communicated to you by that gentleman.”</p> +<p>Sir Lothian rose with a paper in his hand.</p> +<p>“The terms, your Royal Highness and gentlemen, are +briefly these,” said he. “My man, Crab Wilson, +of Gloucester, having never yet fought a prize battle, is +prepared to meet, upon May the 18th of this year, any man of any +weight who may be selected by Sir Charles Tregellis. Sir +Charles Tregellis’s selection is limited to men below +twenty or above thirty-five years of age, so as to exclude +Belcher and the other candidates for championship honours. +The stakes are two thousand pounds against a thousand, two +hundred to be paid by the winner to his man; play or +pay.”</p> +<p>It was curious to see the intense gravity of them all, +fighters and backers, as they bent their brows and weighed the +conditions of the match.</p> +<p>“I am informed,” said Sir John Lade, “that +Crab Wilson’s age is twenty-three, and that, although he +has never fought a regular P.R. battle, he has none the less +fought within ropes for a stake on many occasions.”</p> +<p>“I’ve seen him half a dozen times at the +least,” said Belcher.</p> +<p>“It is precisely for that reason, Sir John, that I am +laying odds of two to one in his favour.”</p> +<p>“May I ask,” said the Prince, “what the +exact height and weight of Wilson may be?”</p> +<p>“Five foot eleven and thirteen-ten, your Royal +Highness.”</p> +<p>“Long enough and heavy enough for anything on two +legs,” said Jackson, and the professionals all murmured +their assent.</p> +<p>“Read the rules of the fight, Sir Lothian.”</p> +<p>“The battle to take place on Tuesday, May the 18th, at +the hour of ten in the morning, at a spot to be afterwards +named. The ring to be twenty foot square. Neither to +fall without a knock-down blow, subject to the decision of the +umpires. Three umpires to be chosen upon the ground, +namely, two in ordinary and one in reference. Does that +meet your wishes, Sir Charles?”</p> +<p>My uncle bowed.</p> +<p>“Have you anything to say, Wilson?”</p> +<p>The young pugilist, who had a curious, lanky figure, and a +craggy, bony face, passed his fingers through his close-cropped +hair.</p> +<p>“If you please, zir,” said he, with a slight +west-country burr, “a twenty-voot ring is too small for a +thirteen-stone man.”</p> +<p>There was another murmur of professional agreement.</p> +<p>“What would you have it, Wilson?”</p> +<p>“Vour-an’-twenty, Sir Lothian.”</p> +<p>“Have you any objection, Sir Charles?”</p> +<p>“Not the slightest.”</p> +<p>“Anything else, Wilson?”</p> +<p>“If you please, zir, I’d like to know whom +I’m vighting with.”</p> +<p>“I understand that you have not publicly nominated your +man, Sir Charles?”</p> +<p>“I do not intend to do so until the very morning of the +fight. I believe I have that right within the terms of our +wager.”</p> +<p>“Certainly, if you choose to exercise it.”</p> +<p>“I do so intend. And I should be vastly pleased if +Mr. Berkeley Craven will consent to be stake-holder.”</p> +<p>That gentleman having willingly given his consent, the final +formalities which led up to these humble tournaments were +concluded.</p> +<p>And then, as these full-blooded, powerful men became heated +with their wine, angry eyes began to glare across the table, and +amid the grey swirls of tobacco-smoke the lamp-light gleamed upon +the fierce, hawk-like Jews, and the flushed, savage Saxons. +The old quarrel as to whether Jackson had or had not committed a +foul by seizing Mendoza by the hair on the occasion of their +battle at Hornchurch, eight years before, came to the front once +more. Dutch Sam hurled a shilling down upon the table, and +offered to fight the Pride of Westminster for it if he ventured +to say that Mendoza had been fairly beaten. Joe Berks, who +had grown noisier and more quarrelsome as the evening went on, +tried to clamber across the table, with horrible blasphemies, to +come to blows with an old Jew named Fighting Yussef, who had +plunged into the discussion. It needed very little more to +finish the supper by a general and ferocious battle, and it was +only the exertions of Jackson, Belcher, Harrison, and others of +the cooler and steadier men, which saved us from a riot.</p> +<p>And then, when at last this question was set aside, that of +the rival claims to championships at different weights came on in +its stead, and again angry words flew about and challenges were +in the air. There was no exact limit between the light, +middle, and heavyweights, and yet it would make a very great +difference to the standing of a boxer whether he should be +regarded as the heaviest of the light-weights, or the lightest of +the heavy-weights. One claimed to be ten-stone champion, +another was ready to take on anything at eleven, but would not +run to twelve, which would have brought the invincible Jem +Belcher down upon him. Faulkner claimed to be champion of +the seniors, and even old Buckhorse’s curious call rang out +above the tumult as he turned the whole company to laughter and +good humour again by challenging anything over eighty and under +seven stone.</p> +<p>But in spite of gleams of sunshine, there was thunder in the +air, and Champion Harrison had just whispered in my ear that he +was quite sure that we should never get through the night without +trouble, and was advising me, if it got very bad, to take refuge +under the table, when the landlord entered the room hurriedly and +handed a note to my uncle.</p> +<p>He read it, and then passed it to the Prince, who returned it +with raised eyebrows and a gesture of surprise. Then my +uncle rose with the scrap of paper in his hand and a smile upon +his lips.</p> +<p>“Gentlemen,” said he, “there is a stranger +waiting below who desires a fight to a finish with the best men +in the room.”</p> +<h2><a name="page179"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +179</span>CHAPTER XI.<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">THE FIGHT IN THE COACH-HOUSE.</span></h2> +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> curt announcement was followed +by a moment of silent surprise, and then by a general shout of +laughter. There might be argument as to who was champion at +each weight; but there could be no question that all the +champions of all the weights were seated round the tables. +An audacious challenge which embraced them one and all, without +regard to size or age, could hardly be regarded otherwise than as +a joke—but it was a joke which might be a dear one for the +joker.</p> +<p>“Is this genuine?” asked my uncle.</p> +<p>“Yes, Sir Charles,” answered the landlord; +“the man is waiting below.”</p> +<p>“It’s a kid!” cried several of the +fighting-men. “Some cove is a gammonin’ +us.”</p> +<p>“Don’t you believe it,” answered the +landlord. “He’s a real slap-up Corinthian, by +his dress; and he means what he says, or else I ain’t no +judge of a man.”</p> +<p>My uncle whispered for a few moments with the Prince of +Wales. “Well, gentlemen,” said he, at last, +“the night is still young, and if any of you should wish to +show the company a little of your skill, you could not ask a +better opportunity.”</p> +<p>“What weight is he, Bill?” asked Jem Belcher.</p> +<p>“He’s close on six foot, and I should put him well +into the thirteen stones when he’s buffed.”</p> +<p>“Heavy metal!” cried Jackson. “Who +takes him on?”</p> +<p>They all wanted to, from nine-stone Dutch Sam upwards. +The air was filled with their hoarse shouts and their arguments +why each should be the chosen one. To fight when they were +flushed with wine and ripe for mischief—above all, to fight +before so select a company with the Prince at the ringside, was a +chance which did not often come in their way. Only Jackson, +Belcher, Mendoza, and one or two others of the senior and more +famous men remained silent, thinking it beneath their dignity +that they should condescend to so irregular a bye-battle.</p> +<p>“Well, you can’t all fight him,” remarked +Jackson, when the babel had died away. “It’s +for the chairman to choose.”</p> +<p>“Perhaps your Royal Highness has a preference,” +said my uncle.</p> +<p>“By Jove, I’d take him on myself if my position +was different,” said the Prince, whose face was growing +redder and his eyes more glazed. “You’ve seen +me with the mufflers, Jackson! You know my form!”</p> +<p>“I’ve seen your Royal Highness, and I have felt +your Royal Highness,” said the courtly Jackson.</p> +<p>“Perhaps Jem Belcher would give us an exhibition,” +said my uncle.</p> +<p>Belcher smiled and shook his handsome head.</p> +<p>“There’s my brother Tom here has never been +blooded in London yet, sir. He might make a fairer match of +it.”</p> +<p>“Give him over to me!” roared Joe Berks. +“I’ve been waitin’ for a turn all +evenin’, an’ I’ll fight any man that tries to +take my place. ’E’s my meat, my masters. +Leave ’im to me if you want to see ’ow a calf’s +’ead should be dressed. If you put Tom Belcher before +me I’ll fight Tom Belcher, an’ for that matter +I’ll fight Jem Belcher, or Bill Belcher, or any other +Belcher that ever came out of Bristol.”</p> +<p>It was clear that Berks had got to the stage when he must +fight some one. His heavy face was gorged and the veins +stood out on his low forehead, while his fierce grey eyes looked +viciously from man to man in quest of a quarrel. His great +red hands were bunched into huge, gnarled fists, and he shook one +of them menacingly as his drunken gaze swept round the +tables.</p> +<p>“I think you’ll agree with me, gentlemen, that Joe +Berks would be all the better for some fresh air and +exercise,” said my uncle. “With the concurrence +of His Royal Highness and of the company, I shall select him as +our champion on this occasion.”</p> +<p>“You do me proud,” cried the fellow, staggering to +his feet and pulling at his coat. “If I don’t +glut him within the five minutes, may I never see Shropshire +again.”</p> +<p>“Wait a bit, Berks,” cried several of the +amateurs. “Where’s it going to be +held?”</p> +<p>“Where you like, masters. I’ll fight him in +a sawpit, or on the outside of a coach if it please you. +Put us toe to toe, and leave the rest with me.”</p> +<p>“They can’t fight here with all this +litter,” said my uncle. “Where shall it +be?”</p> +<p>“’Pon my soul, Tregellis,” cried the Prince, +“I think our unknown friend might have a word to say upon +that matter. He’ll be vastly ill-used if you +don’t let him have his own choice of conditions.”</p> +<p>“You are right, sir. We must have him +up.”</p> +<p>“That’s easy enough,” said the landlord, +“for here he comes through the doorway.”</p> +<p>I glanced round and had a side view of a tall and well-dressed +young man in a long, brown travelling coat and a black felt +hat. The next instant he had turned and I had clutched with +both my hands on to Champion Harrison’s arm.</p> +<p>“Harrison!” I gasped. “It’s Boy +Jim!”</p> +<p>And yet somehow the possibility and even the probability of it +had occurred to me from the beginning, and I believe that it had +to Harrison also, for I had noticed that his face grew grave and +troubled from the very moment that there was talk of the stranger +below. Now, the instant that the buzz of surprise and +admiration caused by Jim’s face and figure had died away, +Harrison was on his feet, gesticulating in his excitement.</p> +<p>“It’s my nephew Jim, gentlemen,” he +cried. “He’s not twenty yet, and it’s no +doing of mine that he should be here.”</p> +<p>“Let him alone, Harrison,” cried Jackson. +“He’s big enough to take care of himself.”</p> +<p>“This matter has gone rather far,” said my +uncle. “I think, Harrison, that you are too good a +sportsman to prevent your nephew from showing whether he takes +after his uncle.”</p> +<p>“It’s very different from me,” cried +Harrison, in great distress. “But I’ll tell you +what I’ll do, gentlemen. I never thought to stand up +in a ring again, but I’ll take on Joe Berks with pleasure, +just to give a bit o’ sport to this company.”</p> +<p>Boy Jim stepped across and laid his hand upon the +prize-fighter’s shoulder.</p> +<p>“It must be so, uncle,” I heard him whisper. +“I am sorry to go against your wishes, but I have made up +my mind, and I must carry it through.”</p> +<p>Harrison shrugged his huge shoulders.</p> +<p>“Jim, Jim, you don’t know what you are +doing! But I’ve heard you speak like that before, +boy, and I know that it ends in your getting your way.”</p> +<p>“I trust, Harrison, that your opposition is +withdrawn?” said my uncle.</p> +<p>“Can I not take his place?”</p> +<p>“You would not have it said that I gave a challenge and +let another carry it out?” whispered Jim. “This +is my one chance. For Heaven’s sake don’t stand +in my way.”</p> +<p>The smith’s broad and usually stolid face was all +working with his conflicting emotions. At last he banged +his fist down upon the table.</p> +<p>“It’s no fault of mine!” he cried. +“It was to be and it is. Jim, boy, for the +Lord’s sake remember your distances, and stick to +out-fightin’ with a man that could give you a +stone.”</p> +<p>“I was sure that Harrison would not stand in the way of +sport,” said my uncle. “We are glad that you +have stepped up, that we might consult you as to the arrangements +for giving effect to your very sporting challenge.”</p> +<p>“Whom am I to fight?” asked Jim, looking round at +the company, who were now all upon their feet.</p> +<p>“Young man, you’ll know enough of who you +’ave to fight before you are through with it,” cried +Berks, lurching heavily through the crowd. +“You’ll need a friend to swear to you before +I’ve finished, d’ye see?”</p> +<p>Jim looked at him with disgust in every line of his face.</p> +<p>“Surely you are not going to set me to fight a drunken +man!” said he. “Where is Jem +Belcher?”</p> +<p>“My name, young man.”</p> +<p>“I should be glad to try you, if I may.”</p> +<p>“You must work up to me, my lad. You don’t +take a ladder at one jump, but you do it rung by rung. Show +yourself to be a match for me, and I’ll give you a +turn.”</p> +<p>“I’m much obliged to you.”</p> +<p>“And I like the look of you, and wish you well,” +said Belcher, holding out his hand. They were not unlike +each other, either in face or figure, though the Bristol man was +a few years the older, and a murmur of critical admiration was +heard as the two tall, lithe figures, and keen, clean-cut faces +were contrasted.</p> +<p>“Have you any choice where the fight takes place?” +asked my uncle.</p> +<p>“I am in your hands, sir,” said Jim.</p> +<p>“Why not go round to the Five’s Court?” +suggested Sir John Lade.</p> +<p>“Yes, let us go to the Five’s Court.”</p> +<p>But this did not at all suit the views of the landlord, who +saw in this lucky incident a chance of reaping a fresh harvest +from his spendthrift company.</p> +<p>“If it please you,” he cried, “there is no +need to go so far. My coach-house at the back of the yard +is empty, and a better place for a mill you’ll never +find.”</p> +<p>There was a general shout in favour of the coach-house, and +those who were nearest the door began to slip through, in the +hope of scouring the best places. My stout neighbour, Bill +Warr, pulled Harrison to one side.</p> +<p>“I’d stop it if I were you,” he +whispered.</p> +<p>“I would if I could. It’s no wish of mine +that he should fight. But there’s no turning him when +once his mind is made up.” All his own fights put +together had never reduced the pugilist to such a state of +agitation.</p> +<p>“Wait on ’im yourself, then, and chuck up the +sponge when things begin to go wrong. You know Joe +Berks’s record?”</p> +<p>“He’s since my time.”</p> +<p>“Well, ’e’s a terror, that’s +all. It’s only Belcher that can master +’im. You see the man for yourself, six foot, fourteen +stone, and full of the devil. Belcher’s beat +’im twice, but the second time ’e ’ad all +’is work to do it.”</p> +<p>“Well, well, we’ve got to go through with +it. You’ve not seen Boy Jim put his mawleys up, or +maybe you’d think better of his chances. When he was +short of sixteen he licked the Cock of the South Downs, and +he’s come on a long way since then.”</p> +<p>The company was swarming through the door and clattering down +the stair, so we followed in the stream. A fine rain was +falling, and the yellow lights from the windows glistened upon +the wet cobblestones of the yard. How welcome was that +breath of sweet, damp air after the fetid atmosphere of the +supper-room. At the other end of the yard was an open door +sharply outlined by the gleam of lanterns within, and through +this they poured, amateurs and fighting-men jostling each other +in their eagerness to get to the front. For my own part, +being a smallish man, I should have seen nothing had I not found +an upturned bucket in a corner, upon which I perched myself with +the wall at my back.</p> +<p>It was a large room with a wooden floor and an open square in +the ceiling, which was fringed with the heads of the ostlers and +stable boys who were looking down from the harness-room +above. A carriage-lamp was slung in each corner, and a very +large stable-lantern hung from a rafter in the centre. A +coil of rope had been brought in, and under the direction of +Jackson four men had been stationed to hold it.</p> +<p>“What space do you give them?” asked my uncle.</p> +<p>“Twenty-four, as they are both big ones, sir.”</p> +<p>“Very good, and half-minutes between rounds, I +suppose? I’ll umpire if Sir Lothian Hume will do the +same, and you can hold the watch and referee, Jackson.”</p> +<p>With great speed and exactness every preparation was rapidly +made by these experienced men. Mendoza and Dutch Sam were +commissioned to attend to Berks, while Belcher and Jack Harrison +did the same for Boy Jim. Sponges, towels, and some brandy +in a bladder were passed over the heads of the crowd for the use +of the seconds.</p> +<p>“Here’s our man,” cried Belcher. +“Come along, Berks, or we’ll go to fetch +you.”</p> +<p>Jim appeared in the ring stripped to the waist, with a +coloured handkerchief tied round his middle. A shout of +admiration came from the spectators as they looked upon the fine +lines of his figure, and I found myself roaring with the +rest. His shoulders were sloping rather than bulky, and his +chest was deep rather than broad, but the muscle was all in the +right place, rippling down in long, low curves from neck to +shoulder, and from shoulder to elbow. His work at the anvil +had developed his arms to their utmost, and his healthy country +living gave a sleek gloss to his ivory skin, which shone in the +lamplight. His expression was full of spirit and +confidence, and he wore a grim sort of half-smile which I had +seen many a time in our boyhood, and which meant, I knew, that +his pride had set iron hard, and that his senses would fail him +long before his courage.</p> +<p>Joe Berks in the meanwhile had swaggered in and stood with +folded arms between his seconds in the opposite corner. His +face had none of the eager alertness of his opponent, and his +skin, of a dead white, with heavy folds about the chest and ribs, +showed, even to my inexperienced eyes, that he was not a man who +should fight without training. A life of toping and ease +had left him flabby and gross. On the other hand, he was +famous for his mettle and for his hitting power, so that, even in +the face of the advantages of youth and condition, the betting +was three to one in his favour. His heavy-jowled, +clean-shaven face expressed ferocity as well as courage, and he +stood with his small, blood-shot eyes fixed viciously upon Jim, +and his lumpy shoulders stooping a little forwards, like a fierce +hound training on a leash.</p> +<p>The hubbub of the betting had risen until it drowned all other +sounds, men shouting their opinions from one side of the +coach-house to the other, and waving their hands to attract +attention, or as a sign that they had accepted a wager. Sir +John Lade, standing just in front of me, was roaring out the odds +against Jim, and laying them freely with those who fancied the +appearance of the unknown.</p> +<p>“I’ve seen Berks fight,” said he to the +Honourable Berkeley Craven. “No country hawbuck is +going to knock out a man with such a record.”</p> +<p>“He may be a country hawbuck,” the other answered, +“but I have been reckoned a judge of anything either on two +legs or four, and I tell you, Sir John, that I never saw a man +who looked better bred in my life. Are you still laying +against him?”</p> +<p>“Three to one.”</p> +<p>“Have you once in hundreds.”</p> +<p>“Very good, Craven! There they go! +Berks! Berks! Bravo! Berks! Bravo! +I think, Craven, that I shall trouble you for that +hundred.”</p> +<p>The two men had stood up to each other, Jim as light upon his +feet as a goat, with his left well out and his right thrown +across the lower part of his chest, while Berks held both arms +half extended and his feet almost level, so that he might lead +off with either side. For an instant they looked each other +over, and then Berks, ducking his head and rushing in with a +handover-hand style of hitting, bored Jim down into his +corner. It was a backward slip rather than a knockdown, but +a thin trickle of blood was seen at the corner of Jim’s +mouth. In an instant the seconds had seized their men and +carried them back into their corners.</p> +<p>“Do you mind doubling our bet?” said Berkeley +Craven, who was craning his neck to get a glimpse of Jim.</p> +<p>“Four to one on Berks! Four to one on +Berks!” cried the ringsiders.</p> +<p>“The odds have gone up, you see. Will you have +four to one in hundreds?”</p> +<p>“Very good, Sir John.”</p> +<p>“You seem to fancy him more for having been knocked +down.”</p> +<p>“He was pushed down, but he stopped every blow, and I +liked the look on his face as he got up again.”</p> +<p>“Well, it’s the old stager for me. Here they +come again! He’s got a pretty style, and he covers +his points well, but it isn’t the best looking that +wins.”</p> +<p>They were at it again, and I was jumping about upon my bucket +in my excitement. It was evident that Berks meant to finish +the battle off-hand, whilst Jim, with two of the most experienced +men in England to advise him, was quite aware that his correct +tactics were to allow the ruffian to expend his strength and wind +in vain. There was something horrible in the ferocious +energy of Berks’s hitting, every blow fetching a grunt from +him as he smashed it in, and after each I gazed at Jim, as I have +gazed at a stranded vessel upon the Sussex beach when wave after +wave has roared over it, fearing each time that I should find it +miserably mangled. But still the lamplight shone upon the +lad’s clear, alert face, upon his well-opened eyes and his +firm-set mouth, while the blows were taken upon his forearm or +allowed, by a quick duck of the head, to whistle over his +shoulder. But Berks was artful as well as violent. +Gradually he worked Jim back into an angle of the ropes from +which there was no escape, and then, when he had him fairly +penned, he sprang upon him like a tiger. What happened was +so quick that I cannot set its sequence down in words, but I saw +Jim make a quick stoop under the swinging arms, and at the same +instant I heard a sharp, ringing smack, and there was Jim dancing +about in the middle of the ring, and Berks lying upon his side on +the floor, with his hand to his eye.</p> +<p>How they roared! Prize-fighters, Corinthians, Prince, +stable-boy, and landlord were all shouting at the top of their +lungs. Old Buckhorse was skipping about on a box beside me, +shrieking out criticisms and advice in strange, obsolete +ring-jargon, which no one could understand. His dull eyes +were shining, his parchment face was quivering with excitement, +and his strange musical call rang out above all the hubbub. +The two men were hurried to their corners, one second sponging +them down and the other flapping a towel in front of their face; +whilst they, with arms hanging down and legs extended, tried to +draw all the air they could into their lungs in the brief space +allowed them.</p> +<p>“Where’s your country hawbuck now?” cried +Craven, triumphantly. “Did ever you witness anything +more masterly?”</p> +<p>“He’s no Johnny Raw, certainly,” said Sir +John, shaking his head. “What odds are you giving on +Berks, Lord Sole?”</p> +<p>“Two to one.”</p> +<p>“I take you twice in hundreds.”</p> +<p>“Here’s Sir John Lade hedging!” cried my +uncle, smiling back at us over his shoulder.</p> +<p>“Time!” said Jackson, and the two men sprang +forward to the mark again.</p> +<p>This round was a good deal shorter than that which had +preceded it. Berks’s orders evidently were to close +at any cost, and so make use of his extra weight and strength +before the superior condition of his antagonist could have time +to tell. On the other hand, Jim, after his experience in +the last round, was less disposed to make any great exertion to +keep him at arms’ length. He led at Berks’s +head, as he came rushing in, and missed him, receiving a severe +body blow in return, which left the imprint of four angry +knuckles above his ribs. As they closed Jim caught his +opponent’s bullet head under his arm for an instant, and +put a couple of half-arm blows in; but the prize-fighter pulled +him over by his weight, and the two fell panting side by side +upon the ground. Jim sprang up, however, and walked over to +his corner, while Berks, distressed by his evening’s +dissipation, leaned one arm upon Mendoza and the other upon Dutch +Sam as he made for his seat.</p> +<p>“Bellows to mend!” cried Jem Belcher. +“Where’s the four to one now?”</p> +<p>“Give us time to get the lid off our pepper-box,” +said Mendoza. “We mean to make a night of +it.”</p> +<p>“Looks like it,” said Jack Harrison. +“He’s shut one of his eyes already. Even money +that my boy wins it!”</p> +<p>“How much?” asked several voices.</p> +<p>“Two pound four and threepence,” cried Harrison, +counting out all his worldly wealth.</p> +<p>“Time!” said Jackson once more.</p> +<p>They were both at the mark in an instant, Jim as full of +sprightly confidence as ever, and Berks with a fixed grin upon +his bull-dog face and a most vicious gleam in the only eye which +was of use to him. His half-minute had not enabled him to +recover his breath, and his huge, hairy chest was rising and +falling with a quick, loud panting like a spent hound. +“Go in, boy! Bustle him!” roared Harrison and +Belcher. “Get your wind, Joe; get your wind!” +cried the Jews. So now we had a reversal of tactics, for it +was Jim who went in to hit with all the vigour of his young +strength and unimpaired energy, while it was the savage Berks who +was paying his debt to Nature for the many injuries which he had +done her. He gasped, he gurgled, his face grew purple in +his attempts to get his breath, while with his long left arm +extended and his right thrown across, he tried to screen himself +from the attack of his wiry antagonist. “Drop when he +hits!” cried Mendoza. “Drop and have a +rest!”</p> +<p>But there was no shyness or shiftiness about Berks’s +fighting. He was always a gallant ruffian, who disdained to +go down before an antagonist as long as his legs would sustain +him. He propped Jim off with his long arm, and though the +lad sprang lightly round him looking for an opening, he was held +off as if a forty-inch bar of iron were between them. Every +instant now was in favour of Berks, and already his breathing was +easier and the bluish tinge fading from his face. Jim knew +that his chance of a speedy victory was slipping away from him, +and he came back again and again as swift as a flash to the +attack without being able to get past the passive defence of the +trained fighting-man. It was at such a moment that +ringcraft was needed, and luckily for Jim two masters of it were +at his back.</p> +<p>“Get your left on his mark, boy,” they shouted, +“then go to his head with the right.”</p> +<p>Jim heard and acted on the instant. Plunk! came his left +just where his antagonist’s ribs curved from his +breast-bone. The force of the blow was half broken by +Berks’s elbow, but it served its purpose of bringing +forward his head. Spank! went the right, with the clear, +crisp sound of two billiard balls clapping together, and Berks +reeled, flung up his arms, spun round, and fell in a huge, fleshy +heap upon the floor. His seconds were on him instantly, and +propped him up in a sitting position, his head rolling helplessly +from one shoulder to the other, and finally toppling backwards +with his chin pointed to the ceiling. Dutch Sam thrust the +brandy-bladder between his teeth, while Mendoza shook him +savagely and howled insults in his ear, but neither the spirits +nor the sense of injury could break into that serene +insensibility. “Time!” was duly called, and the +Jews, seeing that the affair was over, let their man’s head +fall back with a crack upon the floor, and there he lay, his huge +arms and legs asprawl, whilst the Corinthians and fighting-men +crowded past him to shake the hand of his conqueror.</p> +<p>For my part, I tried also to press through the throng, but it +was no easy task for one of the smallest and weakest men in the +room. On all sides of me I heard a brisk discussion from +amateurs and professionals of Jim’s performance and of his +prospects.</p> +<p>“He’s the best bit of new stuff that I’ve +seen since Jem Belcher fought his first fight with Paddington +Jones at Wormwood Scrubbs four years ago last April,” said +Berkeley Craven. “You’ll see him with the belt +round his waist before he’s five-and-twenty, or I am no +judge of a man.”</p> +<p>“That handsome face of his has cost me a cool five +hundred,” grumbled Sir John Lade. “Who’d +have thought he was such a punishing hitter?”</p> +<p>“For all that,” said another, “I am +confident that if Joe Berks had been sober he would have eaten +him. Besides, the lad was in training, and the other would +burst like an overdone potato if he were hit. I never saw a +man so soft, or with his wind in such condition. Put the +men in training, and it’s a horse to a hen on the +bruiser.”</p> +<p>Some agreed with the last speaker and some were against him, +so that a brisk argument was being carried on around me. In +the midst of it the Prince took his departure, which was the +signal for the greater part of the company to make for the +door. In this way I was able at last to reach the corner +where Jim had just finished his dressing, while Champion +Harrison, with tears of joy still shining upon his cheeks, was +helping him on with his overcoat.</p> +<p>“In four rounds!” he kept repeating in a sort of +an ecstasy. “Joe Berks in four rounds! And it +took Jem Belcher fourteen!”</p> +<p>“Well, Roddy,” cried Jim, holding out his hand, +“I told you that I would come to London and make my name +known.”</p> +<p>“It was splendid, Jim!”</p> +<p>“Dear old Roddy! I saw your white face staring at +me from the corner. You are not changed, for all your grand +clothes and your London friends.”</p> +<p>“It is you who are changed, Jim,” said I; “I +hardly knew you when you came into the room.”</p> +<p>“Nor I,” cried the smith. “Where got +you all these fine feathers, Jim? Sure I am that it was not +your aunt who helped you to the first step towards the +prize-ring.”</p> +<p>“Miss Hinton has been my friend—the best friend I +ever had.”</p> +<p>“Humph! I thought as much,” grumbled the +smith. “Well, it is no doing of mine, Jim, and you +must bear witness to that when we go home again. I +don’t know what—but, there, it is done, and it +can’t be helped. After all, she’s—Now, +the deuce take my clumsy tongue!”</p> +<p>I could not tell whether it was the wine which he had taken at +supper or the excitement of Boy Jim’s victory which was +affecting Harrison, but his usually placid face wore a most +disturbed expression, and his manner seemed to betray an +alternation of exultation and embarrassment. Jim looked +curiously at him, wondering evidently what it was that lay behind +these abrupt sentences and sudden silences. The coach-house +had in the mean time been cleared; Berks with many curses had +staggered at last to his feet, and had gone off in company with +two other bruisers, while Jem Belcher alone remained chatting +very earnestly with my uncle.</p> +<p>“Very good, Belcher,” I heard my uncle say.</p> +<p>“It would be a real pleasure to me to do it, sir,” +and the famous prize-fighter, as the two walked towards us.</p> +<p>“I wished to ask you, Jim Harrison, whether you would +undertake to be my champion in the fight against Crab Wilson of +Gloucester?” said my uncle.</p> +<p>“That is what I want, Sir Charles—to have a chance +of fighting my way upwards.”</p> +<p>“There are heavy stakes upon the event—very heavy +stakes,” said my uncle. “You will receive two +hundred pounds, if you win. Does that satisfy +you?”</p> +<p>“I shall fight for the honour, and because I wish to be +thought worthy of being matched against Jem Belcher.”</p> +<p>Belcher laughed good-humouredly.</p> +<p>“You are going the right way about it, lad,” said +he. “But you had a soft thing on to-night with a +drunken man who was out of condition.”</p> +<p>“I did not wish to fight him,” said Jim, +flushing.</p> +<p>“Oh, I know you have spirit enough to fight anything on +two legs. I knew that the instant I clapped eyes on you; +but I want you to remember that when you fight Crab Wilson, you +will fight the most promising man from the west, and that the +best man of the west is likely to be the best man in +England. He’s as quick and as long in the reach as +you are, and he’ll train himself to the last half-ounce of +tallow. I tell you this now, d’ye see, because if +I’m to have the charge of you—”</p> +<p>“Charge of me!”</p> +<p>“Yes,” said my uncle. “Belcher has +consented to train you for the coming battle if you are willing +to enter.”</p> +<p>“I am sure I am very much obliged to you,” cried +Jim, heartily. “Unless my uncle should wish to train +me, there is no one I would rather have.”</p> +<p>“Nay, Jim; I’ll stay with you a few days, but +Belcher knows a deal more about training than I do. Where +will the quarters be?”</p> +<p>“I thought it would be handy for you if we fixed it at +the George, at Crawley. Then, if we have choice of place, +we might choose Crawley Down, for, except Molesey Hurst, and, +maybe, Smitham Bottom, there isn’t a spot in the country +that would compare with it for a mill. Do you agree with +that?”</p> +<p>“With all my heart,” said Jim.</p> +<p>“Then you’re my man from this hour on, d’ye +see?” said Belcher. “Your food is mine, and +your drink is mine, and your sleep is mine, and all you’ve +to do is just what you are told. We haven’t an hour +to lose, for Wilson has been in half-training this month +back. You saw his empty glass to-night.”</p> +<p>“Jim’s fit to fight for his life at the present +moment,” said Harrison. “But we’ll both +come down to Crawley to-morrow. So good night, Sir +Charles.”</p> +<p>“Good night, Roddy,” said Jim. +“You’ll come down to Crawley and see me at my +training quarters, will you not?”</p> +<p>And I heartily promised that I would.</p> +<p>“You must be more careful, nephew,” said my uncle, +as we rattled home in his model <i>vis-à-vis</i>. +“<i>En première jeunesse</i> one is a little +inclined to be ruled by one’s heart rather than by +one’s reason. Jim Harrison seems to be a most +respectable young fellow, but after all he is a +blacksmith’s apprentice, and a candidate for the +prize-ring. There is a vast gap between his position and +that of my own blood relation, and you must let him feel that you +are his superior.”</p> +<p>“He is the oldest and dearest friend that I have in the +world, sir,” I answered. “We were boys +together, and have never had a secret from each other. As +to showing him that I am his superior, I don’t know how I +can do that, for I know very well that he is mine.”</p> +<p>“Hum!” said my uncle, drily, and it was the last +word that he addressed to me that night.</p> +<h2><a name="page201"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +201</span>CHAPTER XII.<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">THE COFFEE-ROOM OF +FLADONG’S.</span></h2> +<p><span class="smcap">So</span> Boy Jim went down to the George, +at Crawley, under the charge of Jim Belcher and Champion +Harrison, to train for his great fight with Crab Wilson, of +Gloucester, whilst every club and bar parlour of London rang with +the account of how he had appeared at a supper of Corinthians, +and beaten the formidable Joe Berks in four rounds. I +remembered that afternoon at Friar’s Oak when Jim had told +me that he would make his name known, and his words had come true +sooner than he could have expected it, for, go where one might, +one heard of nothing but the match between Sir Lothian Hume and +Sir Charles Tregellis, and the points of the two probable +combatants. The betting was still steadily in favour of +Wilson, for he had a number of bye-battles to set against this +single victory of Jim’s, and it was thought by connoisseurs +who had seen him spar that the singular defensive tactics which +had given him his nickname would prove very puzzling to a raw +antagonist. In height, strength, and reputation for +gameness there was very little to choose between them, but Wilson +had been the more severely tested.</p> +<p>It was but a few days before the battle that my father made +his promised visit to London. The seaman had no love of +cities, and was happier wandering over the Downs, and turning his +glass upon every topsail which showed above the horizon, than +when finding his way among crowded streets, where, as he +complained, it was impossible to keep a course by the sun, and +hard enough by dead reckoning. Rumours of war were in the +air, however, and it was necessary that he should use his +influence with Lord Nelson if a vacancy were to be found either +for himself or for me.</p> +<p>My uncle had just set forth, as was his custom of an evening, +clad in his green riding-frock, his plate buttons, his Cordovan +boots, and his round hat, to show himself upon his crop-tailed +tit in the Mall. I had remained behind, for, indeed, I had +already made up my mind that I had no calling for this +fashionable life. These men, with their small waists, their +gestures, and their unnatural ways, had become wearisome to me, +and even my uncle, with his cold and patronizing manner, filled +me with very mixed feelings. My thoughts were back in +Sussex, and I was dreaming of the kindly, simple ways of the +country, when there came a rat-tat at the knocker, the ring of a +hearty voice, and there, in the doorway, was the smiling, +weather-beaten face, with the puckered eyelids and the light blue +eyes.</p> +<p>“Why, Roddy, you are grand indeed!” he +cried. “But I had rather see you with the +King’s blue coat upon your back than with all these frills +and ruffles.”</p> +<p>“And I had rather wear it, father.”</p> +<p>“It warms my heart to hear you say so. Lord Nelson +has promised me that he would find a berth for you, and to-morrow +we shall seek him out and remind him of it. But where is +your uncle?”</p> +<p>“He is riding in the Mall.”</p> +<p>A look of relief passed over my father’s honest face, +for he was never very easy in his brother-in-law’s +company. “I have been to the Admiralty,” said +he, “and I trust that I shall have a ship when war breaks +out; by all accounts it will not be long first. Lord St. +Vincent told me so with his own lips. But I am at +Fladong’s, Rodney, where, if you will come and sup with me, +you will see some of my messmates from the +Mediterranean.”</p> +<p>When you think that in the last year of the war we had 140,000 +seamen and mariners afloat, commanded by 4000 officers, and that +half of these had been turned adrift when the Peace of Amiens +laid their ships up in the Hamoaze or Portsdown creek, you will +understand that London, as well as the dockyard towns, was full +of seafarers. You could not walk the streets without +catching sight of the gipsy-faced, keen-eyed men whose plain +clothes told of their thin purses as plainly as their listless +air showed their weariness of a life of forced and unaccustomed +inaction. Amid the dark streets and brick houses there was +something out of place in their appearance, as when the +sea-gulls, driven by stress of weather, are seen in the Midland +shires. Yet while prize-courts procrastinated, or there was +a chance of an appointment by showing their sunburned faces at +the Admiralty, so long they would continue to pace with their +quarter-deck strut down Whitehall, or to gather of an evening to +discuss the events of the last war or the chances of the next at +Fladong’s, in Oxford Street, which was reserved as entirely +for the Navy as Slaughter’s was for the Army, or +Ibbetson’s for the Church of England.</p> +<p>It did not surprise me, therefore, that we should find the +large room in which we supped crowded with naval men, but I +remember that what did cause me some astonishment was to observe +that all these sailors, who had served under the most varying +conditions in all quarters of the globe, from the Baltic to the +East Indies, should have been moulded into so uniform a type that +they were more like each other than brother is commonly to +brother. The rules of the service insured that every face +should be clean-shaven, every head powdered, and every neck +covered by the little queue of natural hair tied with a black +silk ribbon. Biting winds and tropical suns had combined to +darken them, whilst the habit of command and the menace of +ever-recurring dangers had stamped them all with the same +expression of authority and of alertness. There were some +jovial faces amongst them, but the older officers, with their +deep-lined cheeks and their masterful noses, were, for the most +part, as austere as so many weather-beaten ascetics from the +desert. Lonely watches, and a discipline which cut them off +from all companionship, had left their mark upon those Red Indian +faces. For my part, I could hardly eat my supper for +watching them. Young as I was, I knew that if there were +any freedom left in Europe it was to these men that we owed it; +and I seemed to read upon their grim, harsh features the record +of that long ten years of struggle which had swept the tricolour +from the seas.</p> +<p>When we had finished our supper, my father led me into the +great coffee-room, where a hundred or more officers may have been +assembled, drinking their wine and smoking their long clay pipes, +until the air was as thick as the main-deck in a close-fought +action. As we entered we found ourselves face to face with +an elderly officer who was coming out. He was a man with +large, thoughtful eyes, and a full, placid face—such a face +as one would expect from a philosopher and a philanthropist, +rather than from a fighting seaman.</p> +<p>“Here’s Cuddie Collingwood,” whispered my +father.</p> +<p>“Halloa, Lieutenant Stone!” cried the famous +admiral very cheerily. “I have scarce caught a +glimpse of you since you came aboard the <i>Excellent</i> after +St. Vincent. You had the luck to be at the Nile also, I +understand?”</p> +<p>“I was third of the <i>Theseus</i>, under Millar, +sir.”</p> +<p>“It nearly broke my heart to have missed it. I +have not yet outlived it. To think of such a gallant +service, and I engaged in harassing the market-boats, the +miserable cabbage-carriers of St. Luccars!”</p> +<p>“Your plight was better than mine, Sir Cuthbert,” +said a voice from behind us, and a large man in the full uniform +of a post-captain took a step forward to include himself in our +circle. His mastiff face was heavy with emotion, and he +shook his head miserably as he spoke.</p> +<p>“Yes, yes, Troubridge, I can understand and sympathize +with your feelings.”</p> +<p>“I passed through torment that night, Collingwood. +It left a mark on me that I shall never lose until I go over the +ship’s side in a canvas cover. To have my beautiful +<i>Culloden</i> laid on a sandbank just out of gunshot. To +hear and see the fight the whole night through, and never to pull +a lanyard or take the tompions out of my guns. Twice I +opened my pistol-case to blow out my brains, and it was but the +thought that Nelson might have a use for me that held me +back.”</p> +<p>Collingwood shook the hand of the unfortunate captain.</p> +<p>“Admiral Nelson was not long in finding a use for you, +Troubridge,” said he. “We have all heard of +your siege of Capua, and how you ran up your ship’s guns +without trenches or parallels, and fired point-blank through the +embrasures.”</p> +<p>The melancholy cleared away from the massive face of the big +seaman, and his deep laughter filled the room.</p> +<p>“I’m not clever enough or slow enough for their +Z-Z fashions,” said he. “We got alongside and +slapped it in through their port-holes until they struck their +colours. But where have you been, Sir Cuthbert?”</p> +<p>“With my wife and my two little lasses at Morpeth in the +North Country. I have but seen them this once in ten years, +and it may be ten more, for all I know, ere I see them +again. I have been doing good work for the fleet up +yonder.”</p> +<p>“I had thought, sir, that it was inland,” said my +father.</p> +<p>Collingwood took a little black bag out of his pocket and +shook it.</p> +<p>“Inland it is,” said he, “and yet I have +done good work for the fleet there. What do you suppose I +hold in this bag?”</p> +<p>“Bullets,” said Troubridge.</p> +<p>“Something that a sailor needs even more than +that,” answered the admiral, and turning it over he tilted +a pile of acorns on to his palm. “I carry them with +me in my country walks, and where I see a fruitful nook I thrust +one deep with the end of my cane. My oak trees may fight +those rascals over the water when I am long forgotten. Do +you know, lieutenant, how many oaks go to make an eighty-gun +ship?”</p> +<p>My father shook his head.</p> +<p>“Two thousand, no less. For every two-decked ship +that carries the white ensign there is a grove the less in +England. So how are our grandsons to beat the French if we +do not give them the trees with which to build their +ships?”</p> +<p>He replaced his bag in his pocket, and then, passing his arm +through Troubridge’s, they went through the door +together.</p> +<p>“There’s a man whose life might help you to trim +your own course,” said my father, as we took our seats at a +vacant table. “He is ever the same quiet gentleman, +with his thoughts busy for the comfort of his ship’s +company, and his heart with his wife and children whom he has so +seldom seen. It is said in the fleet that an oath has never +passed his lips, Rodney, though how he managed when he was first +lieutenant of a raw crew is more than I can conceive. But +they all love Cuddie, for they know he’s an angel to +fight. How d’ye do, Captain Foley? My respects, +Sir Ed’ard! Why, if they could but press the company, +they would man a corvette with flag officers.”</p> +<p>“There’s many a man here, Rodney,” continued +my father, as he glanced about him, “whose name may never +find its way into any book save his own ship’s log, but who +in his own way has set as fine an example as any admiral of them +all. We know them, and talk of them in the fleet, though +they may never be bawled in the streets of London. +There’s as much seamanship and pluck in a good cutter +action as in a line-o’-battleship fight, though you may not +come by a title nor the thanks of Parliament for it. +There’s Hamilton, for example, the quiet, pale-faced man +who is learning against the pillar. It was he who, with six +rowing-boats, cut out the 44-gun frigate <i>Hermione</i> from +under the muzzles of two hundred shore-guns in the harbour of +Puerto Cabello. No finer action was done in the whole +war. There’s Jaheel Brenton, with the whiskers. +It was he who attacked twelve Spanish gunboats in his one little +brig, and made four of them strike to him. There’s +Walker, of the <i>Rose</i> cutter, who, with thirteen men, +engaged three French privateers with crews of a hundred and +forty-six. He sank one, captured one, and chased the +third. How are you, Captain Ball? I hope I see you +well?”</p> +<p>Two or three of my father’s acquaintances who had been +sitting close by drew up their chairs to us, and soon quite a +circle had formed, all talking loudly and arguing upon sea +matters, shaking their long, red-tipped pipes at each other as +they spoke. My father whispered in my ear that his +neighbour was Captain Foley, of the <i>Goliath</i>, who led the +van at the Nile, and that the tall, thin, foxy-haired man +opposite was Lord Cochrane, the most dashing frigate captain in +the Service. Even at Friar’s Oak we had heard how, in +the little <i>Speedy</i>, of fourteen small guns with fifty-four +men, he had carried by boarding the Spanish frigate <i>Gamo</i> +with her crew of three hundred. It was easy to see that he +was a quick, irascible, high-blooded man, for he was talking +hotly about his grievances with a flush of anger upon his +freckled cheeks.</p> +<p>“We shall never do any good upon the ocean until we have +hanged the dockyard contractors,” he cried. +“I’d have a dead dockyard contractor as a figure-head +for every first-rate in the fleet, and a provision dealer for +every frigate. I know them with their puttied seams and +their devil bolts, risking five hundred lives that they may steal +a few pounds’ worth of copper. What became of the +<i>Chance</i>, and of the <i>Martin</i>, and of the +<i>Orestes</i>? They foundered at sea, and were never heard +of more, and I say that the crews of them were murdered +men.”</p> +<p>Lord Cochrane seemed to be expressing the views of all, for a +murmur of assent, with a mutter of hearty, deep-sea curses, ran +round the circle.</p> +<p>“Those rascals over yonder manage things better,” +said an old one-eyed captain, with the blue-and-white riband for +St. Vincent peeping out of his third buttonhole. +“They sheer away their heads if they get up to any +foolery. Did ever a vessel come out of Toulon as my 38-gun +frigate did from Plymouth last year, with her masts rolling about +until her shrouds were like iron bars on one side and hanging in +festoons upon the other? The meanest sloop that ever sailed +out of France would have overmatched her, and then it would be on +me, and not on this Devonport bungler, that a court-martial would +be called.”</p> +<p>They loved to grumble, those old salts, for as soon as one had +shot off his grievance his neighbour would follow with another, +each more bitter than the last.</p> +<p>“Look at our sails!” cried Captain Foley. +“Put a French and a British ship at anchor together, and +how can you tell which is which?”</p> +<p>“Frenchy has his fore and maintop-gallant masts about +equal,” said my father.</p> +<p>“In the old ships, maybe, but how many of the new are +laid down on the French model? No, there’s no way of +telling them at anchor. But let them hoist sail, and how +d’you tell them then?”</p> +<p>“Frenchy has white sails,” cried several.</p> +<p>“And ours are black and rotten. That’s the +difference. No wonder they outsail us when the wind can +blow through our canvas.”</p> +<p>“In the <i>Speedy</i>,” said Cochrane, “the +sailcloth was so thin that, when I made my observation, I always +took my meridian through the foretopsail and my horizon through +the foresail.”</p> +<p>There was a general laugh at this, and then at it they all +went again, letting off into speech all those weary broodings and +silent troubles which had rankled during long years of service, +for an iron discipline prevented them from speaking when their +feet were upon their own quarter-decks. One told of his +powder, six pounds of which were needed to throw a ball a +thousand yards. Another cursed the Admiralty Courts, where +a prize goes in as a full-rigged ship and comes out as a +schooner. The old captain spoke of the promotions by +Parliamentary interest which had put many a youngster into the +captain’s cabin when he should have been in the +gun-room. And then they came back to the difficulty of +finding crews for their vessels, and they all together raised up +their voices and wailed.</p> +<p>“What is the use of building fresh ships,” cried +Foley, “when even with a ten-pound bounty you can’t +man the ships that you have got?”</p> +<p>But Lord Cochrane was on the other side in this question.</p> +<p>“You’d have the men, sir, if you treated them well +when you got them,” said he. “Admiral Nelson +can get his ships manned. So can Admiral Collingwood. +Why? Because he has thought for the men, and so the men +have thought for him. Let men and officers know and respect +each other, and there’s no difficulty in keeping a +ship’s company. It’s the infernal plan of +turning a crew over from ship to ship and leaving the officers +behind that rots the Navy. But I have never found a +difficulty, and I dare swear that if I hoist my pennant to-morrow +I shall have all my old <i>Speedies</i> back, and as many +volunteers as I care to take.”</p> +<p>“That is very well, my lord,” said the old +captain, with some warmth; “when the Jacks hear that the +<i>Speedy</i> took fifty vessels in thirteen months, they are +sure to volunteer to serve with her commander. Every good +cruiser can fill her complement quickly enough. But it is +not the cruisers that fight the country’s battles and +blockade the enemy’s ports. I say that all +prize-money should be divided equally among the whole fleet, and +until you have such a rule, the smartest men will always be found +where they are of least service to any one but +themselves.”</p> +<p>This speech produced a chorus of protests from the cruiser +officers and a hearty agreement from the line-of-battleship men, +who seemed to be in the majority in the circle which had gathered +round. From the flushed faces and angry glances it was +evident that the question was one upon which there was strong +feeling upon both sides.</p> +<p>“What the cruiser gets the cruiser earns,” cried a +frigate captain.</p> +<p>“Do you mean to say, sir,” said Captain Foley, +“that the duties of an officer upon a cruiser demand more +care or higher professional ability than those of one who is +employed upon blockade service, with a lee coast under him +whenever the wind shifts to the west, and the topmasts of an +enemy’s squadron for ever in his sight?”</p> +<p>“I do not claim higher ability, sir.”</p> +<p>“Then why should you claim higher pay? Can you +deny that a seaman before the mast makes more in a fast frigate +than a lieutenant can in a battleship?”</p> +<p>“It was only last year,” said a very +gentlemanly-looking officer, who might have passed for a buck +upon town had his skin not been burned to copper in such sunshine +as never bursts upon London—“it was only last year +that I brought the old <i>Alexander</i> back from the +Mediterranean, floating like an empty barrel and carrying nothing +but honour for her cargo. In the Channel we fell in with +the frigate <i>Minerva</i> from the Western Ocean, with her lee +ports under water and her hatches bursting with the plunder which +had been too valuable to trust to the prize crews. She had +ingots of silver along her yards and bowsprit, and a bit of +silver plate at the truck of the masts. My Jacks could have +fired into her, and would, too, if they had not been held +back. It made them mad to think of all they had done in the +south, and then to see this saucy frigate flashing her money +before their eyes.”</p> +<p>“I cannot see their grievance, Captain Ball,” said +Cochrane.</p> +<p>“When you are promoted to a two-decker, my lord, it will +possibly become clearer to you.”</p> +<p>“You speak as if a cruiser had nothing to do but take +prizes. If that is your view, you will permit me to say +that you know very little of the matter. I have handled a +sloop, a corvette, and a frigate, and I have found a great +variety of duties in each of them. I have had to avoid the +enemy’s battleships and to fight his cruisers. I have +had to chase and capture his privateers, and to cut them out when +they run under his batteries. I have had to engage his +forts, to take my men ashore, and to destroy his guns and his +signal stations. All this, with convoying, reconnoitring, +and risking one’s own ship in order to gain a knowledge of +the enemy’s movements, comes under the duties of the +commander of a cruiser. I make bold to say that the man who +can carry these objects out with success has deserved better of +the country than the officer of a battleship, tacking from Ushant +to the Black Rocks and back again until she builds up a reef with +her beef-bones.”</p> +<p>“Sir,” said the angry old sailor, “such an +officer is at least in no danger of being mistaken for a +privateersman.”</p> +<p>“I am surprised, Captain Bulkeley,” Cochran +retorted hotly, “that you should venture to couple the +names of privateersman and King’s officer.”</p> +<p>There was mischief brewing among these hot-headed, +short-spoken salts, but Captain Foley changed the subject to +discuss the new ships which were being built in the French +ports. It was of interest to me to hear these men, who were +spending their lives in fighting against our neighbours, +discussing their character and ways. You cannot +conceive—you who live in times of peace and +charity—how fierce the hatred was in England at that time +against the French, and above all against their great +leader. It was more than a mere prejudice or dislike. +It was a deep, aggressive loathing of which you may even now form +some conception if you examine the papers or caricatures of the +day. The word “Frenchman” was hardly spoken +without “rascal” or “scoundrel” slipping +in before it. In all ranks of life and in every part of the +country the feeling was the same. Even the Jacks aboard our +ships fought with a viciousness against a French vessel which +they would never show to Dane, Dutchman, or Spaniard.</p> +<p>If you ask me now, after fifty years, why it was that there +should have been this virulent feeling against them, so foreign +to the easy-going and tolerant British nature, I would confess +that I think the real reason was fear. Not fear of them +individually, of course—our foulest detractors have never +called us faint-hearted—but fear of their star, fear of +their future, fear of the subtle brain whose plans always seemed +to go aright, and of the heavy hand which had struck nation after +nation to the ground. We were but a small country, with a +population which, when the war began, was not much more than half +that of France. And then, France had increased by leaps and +bounds, reaching out to the north into Belgium and Holland, and +to the south into Italy, whilst we were weakened by deep-lying +disaffection among both Catholics and Presbyterians in +Ireland. The danger was imminent and plain to the least +thoughtful. One could not walk the Kent coast without +seeing the beacons heaped up to tell the country of the +enemy’s landing, and if the sun were shining on the uplands +near Boulogne, one might catch the flash of its gleam upon the +bayonets of manoeuvring veterans. No wonder that a fear of +the French power lay deeply in the hearts of the most gallant +men, and that fear should, as it always does, beget a bitter and +rancorous hatred.</p> +<p>The seamen did not speak kindly then of their recent +enemies. Their hearts loathed them, and in the fashion of +our country their lips said what the heart felt. Of the +French officers they could not have spoken with more chivalry, as +of worthy foemen, but the nation was an abomination to +them. The older men had fought against them in the American +War, they had fought again for the last ten years, and the +dearest wish of their hearts seemed to be that they might be +called upon to do the same for the remainder of their days. +Yet if I was surprised by the virulence of their animosity +against the French, I was even more so to hear how highly they +rated them as antagonists. The long succession of British +victories which had finally made the French take to their ports +and resign the struggle in despair had given all of us the idea +that for some reason a Briton on the water must, in the nature of +things, always have the best of it against a Frenchman. But +these men who had done the fighting did not think so. They +were loud in their praise of their foemen’s gallantry, and +precise in their reasons for his defeat. They showed how +the officers of the old French Navy had nearly all been +aristocrats. How the Revolution had swept them out of their +ships, and the force been left with insubordinate seamen and no +competent leaders. This ill-directed fleet had been hustled +into port by the pressure of the well-manned and well-commanded +British, who had pinned them there ever since, so that they had +never had an opportunity of learning seamanship. Their +harbour drill and their harbour gunnery had been of no service +when sails had to be trimmed and broadsides fired on the heave of +an Atlantic swell. Let one of their frigates get to sea and +have a couple of years’ free run in which the crew might +learn their duties, and then it would be a feather in the cap of +a British officer if with a ship of equal force he could bring +down her colours.</p> +<p>Such were the views of these experienced officers, fortified +by many reminiscences and examples of French gallantry, such as +the way in which the crew of the <i>L’Orient</i> had fought +her quarter-deck guns when the main-deck was in a blaze beneath +them, and when they must have known that they were standing over +an exploding magazine. The general hope was that the West +Indian expedition since the peace might have given many of their +fleet an ocean training, and that they might be tempted out into +mid-Channel if the war were to break out afresh. But would +it break out afresh? We had spent gigantic sums and made +enormous exertions to curb the power of Napoleon and to prevent +him from becoming the universal despot of Europe. Would the +Government try it again? Or were they appalled by the +gigantic load of debt which must bend the backs of many +generations unborn? Pitt was there, and surely he was not a +man to leave his work half done.</p> +<p>And then suddenly there was a bustle at the door. Amid +the grey swirl of the tobacco-smoke I could catch a glimpse of a +blue coat and gold epaulettes, with a crowd gathering thickly +round them, while a hoarse murmur rose from the group which +thickened into a deep-chested cheer. Every one was on his +feet, peering and asking each other what it might mean. And +still the crowd seethed and the cheering swelled.</p> +<p>“What is it? What has happened?” cried a +score of voices.</p> +<p>“Put him up! Hoist him up!” shouted +somebody, and an instant later I saw Captain Troubridge appear +above the shoulders of the crowd. His face was flushed, as +if he were in wine, and he was waving what seemed to be a letter +in the air. The cheering died away, and there was such a +hush that I could hear the crackle of the paper in his hand.</p> +<p>“Great news, gentlemen!” he roared. +“Glorious news! Rear-Admiral Collingwood has directed +me to communicate it to you. The French Ambassador has +received his papers to-night. Every ship on the list is to +go into commission. Admiral Cornwallis is ordered out of +Cawsand Bay to cruise off Ushant. A squadron is starting +for the North Sea and another for the Irish Channel.”</p> +<p>He may have had more to say, but his audience could wait no +longer. How they shouted and stamped and raved in their +delight! Harsh old flag-officers, grave post-captains, +young lieutenants, all were roaring like schoolboys breaking up +for the holidays. There was no thought now of those +manifold and weary grievances to which I had listened. The +foul weather was passed, and the landlocked sea-birds would be +out on the foam once more. The rhythm of “God Save +the King” swelled through the babel, and I heard the old +lines sung in a way that made you forget their bad rhymes and +their bald sentiments. I trust that you will never hear +them so sung, with tears upon rugged cheeks, and catchings of the +breath from strong men. Dark days will have come again +before you hear such a song or see such a sight as that. +Let those talk of the phlegm of our countrymen who have never +seen them when the lava crust of restraint is broken, and when +for an instant the strong, enduring fires of the North glow upon +the surface. I saw them then, and if I do not see them now, +I am not so old or so foolish as to doubt that they are +there.</p> +<h2><a name="page221"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +221</span>CHAPTER XIII.<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">LORD NELSON.</span></h2> +<p><span class="smcap">My</span> father’s appointment with +Lord Nelson was an early one, and he was the more anxious to be +punctual as he knew how much the Admiral’s movements must +be affected by the news which we had heard the night +before. I had hardly breakfasted then, and my uncle had not +rung for his chocolate, when he called for me at Jermyn +Street. A walk of a few hundred yards brought us to the +high building of discoloured brick in Piccadilly, which served +the Hamiltons as a town house, and which Nelson used as his +head-quarters when business or pleasure called him from +Merton. A footman answered our knock, and we were ushered +into a large drawing-room with sombre furniture and melancholy +curtains. My father sent in his name, and there we sat, +looking at the white Italian statuettes in the corners, and the +picture of Vesuvius and the Bay of Naples which hung over the +harpsichord. I can remember that a black clock was ticking +loudly upon the mantelpiece, and that every now and then, amid +the rumble of the hackney coaches, we could hear boisterous +laughter from some inner chamber.</p> +<p>When at last the door opened, both my father and I sprang to +our feet, expecting to find ourselves face to face with the +greatest living Englishman. It was a very different person, +however, who swept into the room.</p> +<p>She was a lady, tall, and, as it seemed to me, exceedingly +beautiful, though, perhaps, one who was more experienced and more +critical might have thought that her charm lay in the past rather +than the present. Her queenly figure was moulded upon large +and noble lines, while her face, though already tending to become +somewhat heavy and coarse, was still remarkable for the +brilliancy of the complexion, the beauty of the large, light blue +eyes, and the tinge of the dark hair which curled over the low +white forehead. She carried herself in the most stately +fashion, so that as I looked at her majestic entrance, and at the +pose which she struck as she glanced at my father, I was reminded +of the Queen of the Peruvians as, in the person of Miss Polly +Hinton, she incited Boy Jim and myself to insurrection.</p> +<p>“Lieutenant Anson Stone?” she asked.</p> +<p>“Yes, your ladyship,” answered my father.</p> +<p>“Ah,” she cried, with an affected and exaggerated +start, “you know me, then?”</p> +<p>“I have seen your ladyship at Naples.”</p> +<p>“Then you have doubtless seen my poor Sir William +also—my poor, poor Sir William!” She touched +her dress with her white, ring-covered fingers, as if to draw our +attention to the fact that she was in the deepest mourning.</p> +<p>“I heard of your ladyship’s sad loss,” said +my father.</p> +<p>“We died together,” she cried. “What +can my life be now save a long-drawn living death?”</p> +<p>She spoke in a beautiful, rich voice, with the most +heart-broken thrill in it, but I could not conceal from myself +that she appeared to be one of the most robust persons that I had +ever seen, and I was surprised to notice that she shot arch +little questioning glances at me, as if the admiration even of so +insignificant a person were of some interest to her. My +father, in his blunt, sailor fashion, tried to stammer out some +commonplace condolence, but her eyes swept past his rude, +weather-beaten face to ask and reask what effect she had made +upon me.</p> +<p>“There he hangs, the tutelary angel of this +house,” she cried, pointing with a grand sweeping gesture +to a painting upon the wall, which represented a very thin-faced, +high-nosed gentleman with several orders upon his coat. +“But enough of my private sorrow!” She dashed +invisible tears from her eyes. “You have come to see +Lord Nelson. He bid me say that he would be with you in an +instant. You have doubtless heard that hostilities are +about to reopen?”</p> +<p>“We heard the news last night.”</p> +<p>“Lord Nelson is under orders to take command of the +Mediterranean Fleet. You can think at such a +moment—But, ah, is it not his lordship’s step that I +hear?”</p> +<p>My attention was so riveted by the lady’s curious manner +and by the gestures and attitudes with which she accompanied +every remark, that I did not see the great admiral enter the +room. When I turned he was standing close by my elbow, a +small, brown man with the lithe, slim figure of a boy. He +was not clad in uniform, but he wore a high-collared brown coat, +with the right sleeve hanging limp and empty by his side. +The expression of his face was, as I remember it, exceedingly sad +and gentle, with the deep lines upon it which told of the chafing +of his urgent and fiery soul. One eye was disfigured and +sightless from a wound, but the other looked from my father to +myself with the quickest and shrewdest of expressions. +Indeed, his whole manner, with his short, sharp glance and the +fine poise of the head, spoke of energy and alertness, so that he +reminded me, if I may compare great things with small, of a +well-bred fighting terrier, gentle and slim, but keen and ready +for whatever chance might send.</p> +<p>“Why, Lieutenant Stone,” said he, with great +cordiality, holding out his left hand to my father, “I am +very glad to see you. London is full of Mediterranean men, +but I trust that in a week there will not be an officer amongst +you all with his feet on dry land.”</p> +<p>“I had come to ask you, sir, if you could assist me to a +ship.”</p> +<p>“You shall have one, Stone, if my word goes for anything +at the Admiralty. I shall want all my old Nile men at my +back. I cannot promise you a first-rate, but at least it +shall be a 64-gun ship, and I can tell you that there is much to +be done with a handy, well-manned, well-found 64-gun +ship.”</p> +<p>“Who could doubt it who has heard of the +<i>Agamemnon</i>?” cried Lady Hamilton, and straightway she +began to talk of the admiral and of his doings with such +extravagance of praise and such a shower of compliments and of +epithets, that my father and I did not know which way to look, +feeling shame and sorrow for a man who was compelled to listen to +such things said in his own presence. But when I ventured +to glance at Lord Nelson I found, to my surprise, that, far from +showing any embarrassment, he was smiling with pleasure, as if +this gross flattery of her ladyship’s were the dearest +thing in all the world to him.</p> +<p>“Come, come, my dear lady,” said he, “you +speak vastly beyond my merits;” upon which encouragement +she started again in a theatrical apostrophe to Britain’s +darling and Neptune’s eldest son, which he endured with the +same signs of gratitude and pleasure. That a man of the +world, five-and-forty years of age, shrewd, honest, and +acquainted with Courts, should be beguiled by such crude and +coarse homage, amazed me, as it did all who knew him; but you who +have seen much of life do not need to be told how often the +strongest and noblest nature has its one inexplicable weakness, +showing up the more obviously in contrast to the rest, as the +dark stain looks the fouler upon the whitest sheet.</p> +<p>“You are a sea-officer of my own heart, Stone,” +said he, when her ladyship had exhausted her panegyric. +“You are one of the old breed!” He walked up +and down the room with little, impatient steps as he talked, +turning with a whisk upon his heel every now and then, as if some +invisible rail had brought him up. “We are getting +too fine for our work with these new-fangled epaulettes and +quarter-deck trimmings. When I joined the Service, you +would find a lieutenant gammoning and rigging his own bowsprit, +or aloft, maybe, with a marlinspike slung round his neck, showing +an example to his men. Now, it’s as much as +he’ll do to carry his own sextant up the companion. +When could you join?”</p> +<p>“To-night, my lord.”</p> +<p>“Right, Stone, right! That is the true +spirit. They are working double tides in the yards, but I +do not know when the ships will be ready. I hoist my flag +on the <i>Victory</i> on Wednesday, and we sail at +once.”</p> +<p>“No, no; not so soon! She cannot be ready for +sea,” said Lady Hamilton, in a wailing voice, clasping her +hands and turning up her eyes as she spoke.</p> +<p>“She must and she shall be ready,” cried Nelson, +with extraordinary vehemence. “By Heaven! if the +devil stands at the door, I sail on Wednesday. Who knows +what these rascals may be doing in my absence? It maddens +me to think of the deviltries which they may be devising. +At this very instant, dear lady, the Queen, <i>our</i> Queen, may +be straining her eyes for the topsails of Nelson’s +ships.”</p> +<p>Thinking, as I did, that he was speaking of our own old Queen +Charlotte, I could make no meaning out of this; but my father +told me afterwards that both Nelson and Lady Hamilton had +conceived an extraordinary affection for the Queen of Naples, and +that it was the interests of her little kingdom which he had so +strenuously at heart. It may have been my expression of +bewilderment which attracted Nelson’s attention to me, for +he suddenly stopped in his quick quarter-deck walk, and looked me +up and down with a severe eye.</p> +<p>“Well, young gentleman!” said he, sharply.</p> +<p>“This is my only son, sir,” said my father. +“It is my wish that he should join the Service, if a berth +can be found for him; for we have all been King’s officers +for many generations.”</p> +<p>“So, you wish to come and have your bones broken?” +cried Nelson, roughly, looking with much disfavour at the fine +clothes which had cost my uncle and Mr. Brummel such a +debate. “You will have to change that grand coat for +a tarry jacket if you serve under me, sir.”</p> +<p>I was so embarrassed by the abruptness of his manner that I +could but stammer out that I hoped I should do my duty, on which +his stern mouth relaxed into a good-humoured smile, and he laid +his little brown hand for an instant upon my shoulder.</p> +<p>“I dare say that you will do very well,” said +he. “I can see that you have the stuff in you. +But do not imagine that it is a light service which you +undertake, young gentleman, when you enter His Majesty’s +Navy. It is a hard profession. You hear of the few +who succeed, but what do you know of the hundreds who never find +their way? Look at my own luck! Out of 200 who were +with me in the San Juan expedition, 145 died in a single +night. I have been in 180 engagements, and I have, as you +see, lost my eye and my arm, and been sorely wounded +besides. It chanced that I came through, and here I am +flying my admiral’s flag; but I remember many a man as good +as me who did not come through. Yes,” he added, as +her ladyship broke in with a voluble protest, “many and +many as good a man who has gone to the sharks or the +land-crabs. But it is a useless sailor who does not risk +himself every day, and the lives of all of us are in the hands of +Him who best knows when to claim them.”</p> +<p>For an instant, in his earnest gaze and reverent manner, we +seemed to catch a glimpse of the deeper, truer Nelson, the man of +the Eastern counties, steeped in the virile Puritanism which sent +from that district the Ironsides to fashion England within, and +the Pilgrim Fathers to spread it without. Here was the +Nelson who declared that he saw the hand of God pressing upon the +French, and who waited on his knees in the cabin of his flag-ship +while she bore down upon the enemy’s line. There was +a human tenderness, too, in his way of speaking of his dead +comrades, which made me understand why it was that he was so +beloved by all who served with him, for, iron-hard as he was as +seaman and fighter, there ran through his complex nature a sweet +and un-English power of affectionate emotion, showing itself in +tears if he were moved, and in such tender impulses as led him +afterwards to ask his flag-captain to kiss him as he lay dying in +the cockpit of the <i>Victory</i>.</p> +<p>My father had risen to depart, but the admiral, with that +kindliness which he ever showed to the young, and which had been +momentarily chilled by the unfortunate splendour of my clothes, +still paced up and down in front of us, shooting out crisp little +sentences of exhortation and advice.</p> +<p>“It is ardour that we need in the Service, young +gentleman,” said he. “We need red-hot men who +will never rest satisfied. We had them in the +Mediterranean, and we shall have them again. There was a +band of brothers! When I was asked to recommend one for +special service, I told the Admiralty they might take the names +as they came, for the same spirit animated them all. Had we +taken nineteen vessels, we should never have said it was well +done while the twentieth sailed the seas. You know how it +was with us, Stone. You are too old a Mediterranean man for +me to tell you anything.”</p> +<p>“I trust, my lord, that I shall be with you when next we +meet them,” said my father.</p> +<p>“Meet them we shall and must. By Heaven, I shall +never rest until I have given them a shaking. The scoundrel +Buonaparte wishes to humble us. Let him try, and God help +the better cause!”</p> +<p>He spoke with such extraordinary animation that the empty +sleeve flapped about in the air, giving him the strangest +appearance. Seeing my eyes fixed upon it, he turned with a +smile to my father.</p> +<p>“I can still work my fin, Stone,” said he, putting +his hand across to the stump of his arm. “What used +they to say in the fleet about it?”</p> +<p>“That it was a sign, sir, that it was a bad hour to +cross your hawse.”</p> +<p>“They knew me, the rascals. You can see, young +gentleman, that not a scrap of the ardour with which I serve my +country has been shot away. Some day you may find that you +are flying your own flag, and when that time comes you may +remember that my advice to an officer is that he should have +nothing to do with tame, slow measures. Lay all your stake, +and if you lose through no fault of your own, the country will +find you another stake as large. Never mind +manœuvres! Go for them! The only manœuvre +you need is that which will place you alongside your enemy. +Always fight, and you will always be right. Give not a +thought to your own ease or your own life, for from the day that +you draw the blue coat over your back you have no life of your +own. It is the country’s, to be most freely spent if +the smallest gain can come from it. How is the wind this +morning, Stone?”</p> +<p>“East-south-east,” my father answered, +readily.</p> +<p>“Then Cornwallis is, doubtless, keeping well up to +Brest, though, for my own part, I had rather tempt them out into +the open sea.”</p> +<p>“That is what every officer and man in the fleet would +prefer, your lordship,” said my father.</p> +<p>“They do not love the blockading service, and it is +little wonder, since neither money nor honour is to be gained at +it. You can remember how it was in the winter months before +Toulon, Stone, when we had neither firing, wine, beef, pork, nor +flour aboard the ships, nor a spare piece of rope, canvas, or +twine. We braced the old hulks with our spare cables, and +God knows there was never a Levanter that I did not expect it to +send us to the bottom. But we held our grip all the +same. Yet I fear that we do not get much credit for it here +in England, Stone, where they light the windows for a great +battle, but they do not understand that it is easier for us to +fight the Nile six times over, than to keep our station all +winter in the blockade. But I pray God that we may meet +this new fleet of theirs and settle the matter by a pell-mell +battle.”</p> +<p>“May I be with you, my lord!” said my father, +earnestly. “But we have already taken too much of +your time, and so I beg to thank you for your kindness and to +wish you good morning.”</p> +<p>“Good morning, Stone!” said Nelson. +“You shall have your ship, and if I can make this young +gentleman one of my officers it shall be done. But I gather +from his dress,” he continued, running his eye over me, +“that you have been more fortunate in prize-money than most +of your comrades. For my own part, I never did nor could +turn my thoughts to money-making.”</p> +<p>My father explained that I had been under the charge of the +famous Sir Charles Tregellis, who was my uncle, and with whom I +was now residing.</p> +<p>“Then you need no help from me,” said Nelson, with +some bitterness. “If you have either guineas or +interest you can climb over the heads of old sea-officers, though +you may not know the poop from the galley, or a carronade from a +long nine. Nevertheless—But what the deuce have we +here?”</p> +<p>The footman had suddenly precipitated himself into the room, +but stood abashed before the fierce glare of the admiral’s +eye.</p> +<p>“Your lordship told me to rush to you if it should +come,” he explained, holding out a large blue envelope.</p> +<p>“By Heaven, it is my orders!” cried Nelson, +snatching it up and fumbling with it in his awkward, one-handed +attempt to break the seals. Lady Hamilton ran to his +assistance, but no sooner had she glanced at the paper inclosed +than she burst into a shrill scream, and throwing up her hands +and her eyes, she sank backwards in a swoon. I could not +but observe, however, that her fall was very carefully executed, +and that she was fortunate enough, in spite of her insensibility, +to arrange her drapery and attitude into a graceful and classical +design. But he, the honest seaman, so incapable of deceit +or affectation that he could not suspect it in others, ran madly +to the bell, shouting for the maid, the doctor, and the +smelling-salts, with incoherent words of grief, and such +passionate terms of emotion that my father thought it more +discreet to twitch me by the sleeve as a signal that we should +steal from the room. There we left him then in the dim-lit +London drawing-room, beside himself with pity for this shallow +and most artificial woman, while without, at the edge of the +Piccadilly curb, there stood the high dark berline ready to start +him upon that long journey which was to end in his chase of the +French fleet over seven thousand miles of ocean, his meeting with +it, his victory, which confined Napoleon’s ambition for +ever to the land, and his death, coming, as I would it might come +to all of us, at the crowning moment of his life.</p> +<h2><a name="page234"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +234</span>CHAPTER XIV.<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">ON THE ROAD.</span></h2> +<p><span class="smcap">And</span> now the day of the great fight +began to approach. Even the imminent outbreak of war and +the renewed threats of Napoleon were secondary things in the eyes +of the sportsmen—and the sportsmen in those days made a +large half of the population. In the club of the patrician +and the plebeian gin-shop, in the coffee-house of the merchant or +the barrack of the soldier, in London or the provinces, the same +question was interesting the whole nation. Every +west-country coach brought up word of the fine condition of Crab +Wilson, who had returned to his own native air for his training, +and was known to be under the immediate care of Captain Barclay, +the expert. On the other hand, although my uncle had not +yet named his man, there was no doubt amongst the public that Jim +was to be his nominee, and the report of his physique and of his +performance found him many backers. On the whole, however, +the betting was in favour of Wilson, for Bristol and the west +country stood by him to a man, whilst London opinion was +divided. Three to two were to be had on Wilson at any West +End club two days before the battle.</p> +<p>I had twice been down to Crawley to see Jim in his training +quarters, where I found him undergoing the severe regimen which +was usual. From early dawn until nightfall he was running, +jumping, striking a bladder which swung upon a bar, or sparring +with his formidable trainer. His eyes shone and his skin +glowed with exuberent health, and he was so confident of success +that my own misgivings vanished as I watched his gallant bearing +and listened to his quiet and cheerful words.</p> +<p>“But I wonder that you should come and see me now, +Rodney,” said he, when we parted, trying to laugh as he +spoke. “I have become a bruiser and your +uncle’s paid man, whilst you are a Corinthian upon +town. If you had not been the best and truest little +gentleman in the world, you would have been my patron instead of +my friend before now.”</p> +<p>When I looked at this splendid fellow, with his high-bred, +clean-cut face, and thought of the fine qualities and gentle, +generous impulses which I knew to lie within him, it seemed so +absurd that he should speak as though my friendship towards him +were a condescension, that I could not help laughing aloud.</p> +<p>“That is all very well, Rodney,” said he, looking +hard into my eyes. “But what does your uncle think +about it?”</p> +<p>This was a poser, and I could only answer lamely enough that, +much as I was indebted to my uncle, I had known Jim first, and +that I was surely old enough to choose my own friends.</p> +<p>Jim’s misgivings were so far correct that my uncle did +very strongly object to any intimacy between us; but there were +so many other points in which he disapproved of my conduct, that +it made the less difference. I fear that he was already +disappointed in me. I would not develop an eccentricity, +although he was good enough to point out several by which I might +“come out of the ruck,” as he expressed it, and so +catch the attention of the strange world in which he lived.</p> +<p>“You are an active young fellow, nephew,” said +he. “Do you not think that you could engage to climb +round the furniture of an ordinary room without setting foot upon +the ground? Some little <i>tour-de-force</i> of the sort is +in excellent taste. There was a captain in the Guards who +attained considerable social success by doing it for a small +wager. Lady Lieven, who is exceedingly exigeant, used to +invite him to her evenings merely that he might exhibit +it.”</p> +<p>I had to assure him that the feat would be beyond me.</p> +<p>“You are just a little <i>difficile</i>,” said he, +shrugging his shoulders. “As my nephew, you might +have taken your position by perpetuating my own delicacy of +taste. If you had made bad taste your enemy, the world of +fashion would willingly have looked upon you as an arbiter by +virtue of your family traditions, and you might without a +struggle have stepped into the position to which this young +upstart Brummell aspires. But you have no instinct in that +direction. You are incapable of minute attention to +detail. Look at your shoes! Look at your +cravat! Look at your watch-chain! Two links are +enough to show. I <i>have</i> shown three, but it was an +indiscretion. At this moment I can see no less than five of +yours. I regret it, nephew, but I do not think that you are +destined to attain that position which I have a right to expect +from my blood relation.”</p> +<p>“I am sorry to be a disappointment to you, sir,” +said I.</p> +<p>“It is your misfortune not to have come under my +influence earlier,” said he. “I might then have +moulded you so as to have satisfied even my own +aspirations. I had a younger brother whose case was a +similar one. I did what I could for him, but he would wear +ribbons in his shoes, and he publicly mistook white Burgundy for +Rhine wine. Eventually the poor fellow took to books, and +lived and died in a country vicarage. He was a good man, +but he was commonplace, and there is no place in society for +commonplace people.”</p> +<p>“Then I fear, sir, that there is none for me,” +said I. “But my father has every hope that Lord +Nelson will find me a position in the fleet. If I have been +a failure in town, I am none the less conscious of your kindness +in trying to advance my interests, and I hope that, should I +receive my commission, I may be a credit to you yet.”</p> +<p>“It is possible that you may attain the very spot which +I had marked out for you, but by another road,” said my +uncle. “There are many men in town, such as Lord St. +Vincent, Lord Hood, and others, who move in the most respectable +circles, although they have nothing but their services in the +Navy to recommend them.”</p> +<p>It was on the afternoon of the day before the fight that this +conversation took place between my uncle and myself in the dainty +sanctum of his Jermyn-Street house. He was clad, I +remember, in his flowing brocade dressing-gown, as was his custom +before he set off for his club, and his foot was extended upon a +stool—for Abernethy had just been in to treat him for an +incipient attack of the gout. It may have been the pain, or +it may have been his disappointment at my career, but his manner +was more testy than was usual with him, and I fear that there was +something of a sneer in his smile as he spoke of my +deficiencies. For my own part I was relieved at the +explanation, for my father had left London in the full conviction +that a vacancy would speedily be found for us both, and the one +thing which had weighed upon my mind was that I might have found +it hard to leave my uncle without interfering with the plans +which he had formed. I was heart-weary of this empty life, +for which I was so ill-fashioned, and weary also of that +intolerant talk which would make a coterie of frivolous women and +foolish fops the central point of the universe. Something +of my uncle’s sneer may have flickered upon my lips as I +heard him allude with supercilious surprise to the presence in +those sacrosanct circles of the men who had stood between the +country and destruction.</p> +<p>“By the way, nephew,” said he, “gout or no +gout, and whether Abernethy likes it or not, we must be down at +Crawley to-night. The battle will take place upon Crawley +Downs. Sir Lothian Hume and his man are at Reigate. I +have reserved beds at the George for both of us. The crush +will, it is said, exceed anything ever known. The smell of +these country inns is always most offensive to me—<i>mais +que voulez-vous</i>? Berkeley Craven was saying in the club +last night that there is not a bed within twenty miles of Crawley +which is not bespoke, and that they are charging three guineas +for the night. I hope that your young friend, if I must +describe him as such, will fulfil the promise which he has shown, +for I have rather more upon the event than I care to lose. +Sir Lothian has been plunging also—he made a single bye-bet +of five thousand to three upon Wilson in Limmer’s +yesterday. From what I hear of his affairs it will be a +serious matter for him if we should pull it off. Well, +Lorimer?”</p> +<p>“A person to see you, Sir Charles,” said the new +valet.</p> +<p>“You know that I never see any one until my dressing is +complete.”</p> +<p>“He insists upon seeing you, sir. He pushed open +the door.”</p> +<p>“Pushed it open! What d’you mean, +Lorimer? Why didn’t you put him out?”</p> +<p>A smile passed over the servant’s face. At the +same moment there came a deep voice from the passage.</p> +<p>“You show me in this instant, young man, d’ye +’ear? Let me see your master, or it’ll be the +worse for you.”</p> +<p>I thought that I had heard the voice before, but when, over +the shoulder of the valet, I caught a glimpse of a large, fleshy, +bull-face, with a flattened Michael Angelo nose in the centre of +it, I knew at once that it was my neighbour at the supper +party.</p> +<p>“It’s Warr, the prizefighter, sir,” said +I.</p> +<p>“Yes, sir,” said our visitor, pushing his huge +form into the room. “It’s Bill Warr, landlord +of the One Ton public-’ouse, Jermyn Street, and the gamest +man upon the list. There’s only one thing that ever +beat me, Sir Charles, and that was my flesh, which creeps over me +that amazin’ fast that I’ve always got four stone +that ’as no business there. Why, sir, I’ve got +enough to spare to make a feather-weight champion out of. +You’d ’ardly think, to look at me, that even after +Mendoza fought me I was able to jump the four-foot ropes at the +ring-side just as light as a little kiddy; but if I was to chuck +my castor into the ring now I’d never get it till the wind +blew it out again, for blow my dicky if I could climb +after. My respec’s to you, young sir, and I +’ope I see you well.”</p> +<p>My uncle’s face had expressed considerable disgust at +this invasion of his privacy, but it was part of his position to +be on good terms with the fighting-men, so he contented himself +with asking curtly what business had brought him there. For +answer the huge prizefighter looked meaningly at the valet.</p> +<p>“It’s important, Sir Charles, and between man and +man,” said he.</p> +<p>“You may go, Lorimer. Now, Warr, what is the +matter?”</p> +<p>The bruiser very calmly seated himself astride of a chair with +his arms resting upon the back of it.</p> +<p>“I’ve got information, Sir Charles,” said +he.</p> +<p>“Well, what is it?” cried my uncle, +impatiently.</p> +<p>“Information of value.”</p> +<p>“Out with it, then!”</p> +<p>“Information that’s worth money,” said Warr, +and pursed up his lips.</p> +<p>“I see. You want to be paid for what you +know?”</p> +<p>The prizefighter smiled an affirmative.</p> +<p>“Well, I don’t buy things on trust. You +should know me better than to try on such a game with +me.”</p> +<p>“I know you for what you are, Sir Charles, and that is a +noble, slap-up Corinthian. But if I was to use this against +you, d’ye see, it would be worth ’undreds in my +pocket. But my ’eart won’t let me do it, for +Bill Warr’s always been on the side o’ good sport and +fair play. If I use it for you, then I expect that you +won’t see me the loser.”</p> +<p>“You can do what you like,” said my uncle. +“If your news is of service to me, I shall know how to +treat you.”</p> +<p>“You can’t say fairer than that. We’ll +let it stand there, gov’nor, and you’ll do the +’andsome thing, as you ’ave always ’ad the name +for doin’. Well, then, your man, Jim ’Arisen, +fights Crab Wilson, of Gloucester, at Crawley Down to-morrow +mornin’ for a stake.”</p> +<p>“What of that?”</p> +<p>“Did you ’appen to know what the bettin’ was +yesterday?”</p> +<p>“It was three to two on Wilson.”</p> +<p>“Right you are, gov’nor. Three to two was +offered in my own bar-parlour. D’you know what the +bettin’ is to-day?”</p> +<p>“I have not been out yet.”</p> +<p>“Then I’ll tell you. It’s seven to one +against your man.”</p> +<p>“What?”</p> +<p>“Seven to one, gov’nor, no less.”</p> +<p>“You’re talking nonsense, Warr! How could +the betting change from three to two to seven to one?”</p> +<p>“Ive been to Tom Owen’s, and I’ve been to +the ’Ole in the Wall, and I’ve been to the Waggon and +’Orses, and you can get seven to one in any of them. +There’s tons of money being laid against your man. +It’s a ’orse to a ’en in every sportin’ +’ouse and boozin’ ken from ’ere to +Stepney.”</p> +<p>For a moment the expression upon my uncle’s face made me +realize that this match was really a serious matter to him. +Then he shrugged his shoulders with an incredulous smile.</p> +<p>“All the worse for the fools who give the odds,” +said he. “My man is all right. You saw him +yesterday, nephew?”</p> +<p>“He was all right yesterday, sir.”</p> +<p>“If anything had gone wrong I should have +heard.”</p> +<p>“But perhaps,” said Warr, “it ’as not +gone wrong with ’im <i>yet</i>.”</p> +<p>“What d’you mean?”</p> +<p>“I’ll tell you what I mean, sir. You +remember Berks? You know that ’e ain’t to be +overmuch depended on at any time, and that ’e ’ad a +grudge against your man ’cause ’e laid ’im out +in the coach-’ouse. Well, last night about ten +o’clock in ’e comes into my bar, and the three +bloodiest rogues in London at ’is ’eels. There +was Red Ike, ’im that was warned off the ring ’cause +’e fought a cross with Bittoon; and there was +Fightin’ Yussef, who would sell ’is mother for a +seven-shillin’-bit; the third was Chris McCarthy, who is a +fogle-snatcher by trade, with a pitch outside the ’Aymarket +Theatre. You don’t often see four such beauties +together, and all with as much as they could carry, save only +Chris, who is too leary a cove to drink when there’s +somethin’ goin’ forward. For my part, I showed +’em into the parlour, not ’cos they was worthy of it, +but ’cos I knew right well they would start bashin’ +some of my customers, and maybe get my license into trouble if I +left ’em in the bar. I served ’em with drink, +and stayed with ’em just to see that they didn’t lay +their ’ands on the stuffed parroquet and the pictures.</p> +<p>“Well, gov’nor, to cut it short, they began to +talk about the fight, and they all laughed at the idea that young +Jim ’Arrison could win it—all except Chris, and +e’ kept a-nudging and a-twitchin’ at the others until +Joe Berks nearly gave him a wipe across the face for ’is +trouble. I saw somethin’ was in the wind, and it +wasn’t very ’ard to guess what it +was—especially when Red Ike was ready to put up a fiver +that Jim ’Arrison would never fight at all. So I up +to get another bottle of liptrap, and I slipped round to the +shutter that we pass the liquor through from the private bar into +the parlour. I drew it an inch open, and I might ’ave +been at the table with them, I could ’ear every word that +clearly.</p> +<p>“There was Chris McCarthy growlin’ at them for not +keepin’ their tongues still, and there was Joe Berks +swearin’ that ’e would knock ’is face in if +’e dared give ’im any of ’is lip. So +Chris ’e sort of argued with them, for ’e was +frightened of Berks, and ’e put it to them whether they +would be fit for the job in the mornin’, and whether the +gov’nor would pay the money if ’e found they +’ad been drinkin’ and were not to be trusted. +This struck them sober, all three, an’ Fighting Yussef +asked what time they were to start. Chris said that as long +as they were at Crawley before the George shut up they could work +it. ‘It’s poor pay for a chance of a +rope,’ said Red Ike. ‘Rope be damned!’ +cried Chris, takin’ a little loaded stick out of his side +pocket. ‘If three of you ’old him down and I +break his arm-bone with this, we’ve earned our money, and +we don’t risk more’n six months’ +jug.’ ‘’E’ll fight,’ said +Berks. ‘Well, it’s the only fight +’e’ll get,’ answered Chris, and that was all I +’eard of it. This mornin’ out I went, and I +found as I told you afore that the money is goin’ on to +Wilson by the ton, and that no odds are too long for the +layers. So it stands, gov’nor, and you know what the +meanin’ of it may be better than Bill Warr can tell +you.”</p> +<p>“Very good, Warr,” said my uncle, rising. +“I am very much obliged to you for telling me this, and I +will see that you are not a loser by it. I put it down as +the gossip of drunken ruffians, but none the less you have served +me vastly by calling my attention to it. I suppose I shall +see you at the Downs to-morrow?”</p> +<p>“Mr. Jackson ’as asked me to be one o’ the +beaters-out, sir.”</p> +<p>“Very good. I hope that we shall have a fair and +good fight. Good day to you, and thank you.”</p> +<p>My uncle had preserved his jaunty demeanour as long as Warr +was in the room, but the door had hardly closed upon him before +he turned to me with a face which was more agitated than I had +ever seen it.</p> +<p>“We must be off for Crawley at once, nephew,” said +he, ringing the bell. “There’s not a moment to +be lost. Lorimer, order the bays to be harnessed in the +curricle. Put the toilet things in, and tell William to +have it round at the door as soon as possible.”</p> +<p>“I’ll see to it, sir,” said I, and away I +ran to the mews in Little Ryder Street, where my uncle stabled +his horses. The groom was away, and I had to send a lad in +search of him, while with the help of the livery-man I dragged +the curricle from the coach-house and brought the two mares out +of their stalls. It was half an hour, or possibly +three-quarters, before everything had been found, and Lorimer was +already waiting in Jermyn Street with the inevitable baskets, +whilst my uncle stood in the open door of his house, clad in his +long fawn-coloured driving-coat, with no sign upon his calm pale +face of the tumult of impatience which must, I was sure, be +raging within.</p> +<p>“We shall leave you, Lorimer,” said he. +“We might find it hard to get a bed for you. Keep at +her head, William! Jump in, nephew. Halloa, Warr, +what is the matter now?”</p> +<p>The prizefighter was hastening towards us as fast as his bulk +would allow.</p> +<p>“Just one word before you go, Sir Charles,” he +panted. “I’ve just ’eard in my taproom +that the four men I spoke of left for Crawley at one +o’clock.”</p> +<p>“Very good, Warr,” said my uncle, with his foot +upon the step.</p> +<p>“And the odds ’ave risen to ten to one.”</p> +<p>“Let go her head, William!”</p> +<p>“Just one more word, gov’nor. You’ll +excuse the liberty, but if I was you I’d take my pistols +with me.”</p> +<p>“Thank you; I have them.”</p> +<p>The long thong cracked between the ears of the leader, the +groom sprang for the pavement, and Jermyn Street had changed for +St. James’s, and that again for Whitehall with a swiftness +which showed that the gallant mares were as impatient as their +master. It was half-past four by the Parliament clock as we +flew on to Westminster Bridge. There was the flash of water +beneath us, and then we were between those two long dun-coloured +lines of houses which had been the avenue which had led us to +London. My uncle sat with tightened lips and a brooding +brow. We had reached Streatham before he broke the +silence.</p> +<p>“I have a good deal at stake, nephew,” said +he.</p> +<p>“So have I, sir,” I answered.</p> +<p>“You!” he cried, in surprise.</p> +<p>“My friend, sir.”</p> +<p>“Ah, yes, I had forgot. You have some +eccentricities, after all, nephew. You are a faithful +friend, which is a rare enough thing in our circles. I +never had but one friend of my own position, and he—but +you’ve heard me tell the story. I fear it will be +dark before we reach Crawley.”</p> +<p>“I fear that it will.”</p> +<p>“In that case we may be too late.”</p> +<p>“Pray God not, sir!”</p> +<p>“We sit behind the best cattle in England, but I fear +lest we find the roads blocked before we get to Crawley. +Did you observe, nephew, that these four villains spoke in +Warr’s hearing of the master who was behind them, and who +was paying them for their infamy? Did you not understand +that they were hired to cripple my man? Who, then, could +have hired them? Who had an interest unless it was—I +know Sir Lothian Hume to be a desperate man. I know that he +has had heavy card losses at Watier’s and +White’s. I know also that he has much at stake upon +this event, and that he has plunged upon it with a rashness which +made his friends think that he had some private reason for being +satisfied as to the result. By Heaven, it all hangs +together! If it should be so—!” He +relapsed into silence, but I saw the same look of cold fierceness +settle upon his features which I had marked there when he and Sir +John Lade had raced wheel to wheel down the Godstone road.</p> +<p>The sun sank slowly towards the low Surrey hills, and the +shadows crept steadily eastwards, but the whirr of the wheels and +the roar of the hoofs never slackened. A fresh wind blew +upon our faces, while the young leaves drooped motionless from +the wayside branches. The golden edge of the sun was just +sinking behind the oaks of Reigate Hill when the dripping mares +drew up before the Crown at Redhill. The landlord, an old +sportsman and ringsider, ran out to greet so well-known a +Corinthian as Sir Charles Tregellis.</p> +<p>“You know Berks, the bruiser?” asked my uncle.</p> +<p>“Yes, Sir Charles.”</p> +<p>“Has he passed?”</p> +<p>“Yes, Sir Charles. It may have been about four +o’clock, though with this crowd of folk and carriages +it’s hard to swear to it. There was him, and Red Ike, +and Fighting Yussef the Jew, and another, with a good bit of +blood betwixt the shafts. They’d been driving her +hard, too, for she was all in a lather.”</p> +<p>“That’s ugly, nephew,” said my uncle, when +we were flying onwards towards Reigate. “If they +drove so hard, it looks as though they wished to get early to +work.”</p> +<p>“Jim and Belcher would surely be a match for the four of +them,” I suggested.</p> +<p>“If Belcher were with him I should have no fear. +But you cannot tell what <i>diablerie</i> they may be up +to. Let us only find him safe and sound, and I’ll +never lose sight of him until I see him in the ring. +We’ll sit up on guard with our pistols, nephew, and I only +trust that these villains may be indiscreet enough to attempt +it. But they must have been very sure of success before +they put the odds up to such a figure, and it is that which +alarms me.”</p> +<p>“But surely they have nothing to win by such villainy, +sir? If they were to hurt Jim Harrison the battle could not +be fought, and the bets would not be decided.”</p> +<p>“So it would be in an ordinary prize-battle, nephew; and +it is fortunate that it should be so, or the rascals who infest +the ring would soon make all sport impossible. But here it +is different. On the terms of the wager I lose unless I can +produce a man, within the prescribed ages, who can beat Crab +Wilson. You must remember that I have never named my +man. <i>C’est dommage</i>, but so it is! We +know who it is and so do our opponents, but the referees and +stakeholder would take no notice of that. If we complain +that Jim Harrison has been crippled, they would answer that they +have no official knowledge that Jim Harrison was our +nominee. It’s play or pay, and the villains are +taking advantage of it.”</p> +<p>My uncle’s fears as to our being blocked upon the road +were only too well founded, for after we passed Reigate there was +such a procession of every sort of vehicle, that I believe for +the whole eight miles there was not a horse whose nose was +further than a few feet from the back of the curricle or barouche +in front. Every road leading from London, as well as those +from Guildford in the west and Tunbridge in the east, had +contributed their stream of four-in-hands, gigs, and mounted +sportsmen, until the whole broad Brighton highway was choked from +ditch to ditch with a laughing, singing, shouting throng, all +flowing in the same direction. No man who looked upon that +motley crowd could deny that, for good or evil, the love of the +ring was confined to no class, but was a national peculiarity, +deeply seated in the English nature, and a common heritage of the +young aristocrat in his drag and of the rough costers sitting six +deep in their pony cart. There I saw statesmen and +soldiers, noblemen and lawyers, farmers and squires, with roughs +of the East End and yokels of the shires, all toiling along with +the prospect of a night of discomfort before them, on the chance +of seeing a fight which might, for all that they knew, be decided +in a single round. A more cheery and hearty set of people +could not be imagined, and the chaff flew about as thick as the +dust clouds, while at every wayside inn the landlord and the +drawers would be out with trays of foam-headed tankards to +moisten those importunate throats. The ale-drinking, the +rude good-fellowship, the heartiness, the laughter at +discomforts, the craving to see the fight—all these may be +set down as vulgar and trivial by those to whom they are +distasteful; but to me, listening to the far-off and uncertain +echoes of our distant past, they seem to have been the very bones +upon which much that is most solid and virile in this ancient +race was moulded.</p> +<p>But, alas for our chance of hastening onwards! Even my +uncle’s skill could not pick a passage through that moving +mass. We could but fall into our places and be content to +snail along from Reigate to Horley and on to Povey Cross and over +Lowfield Heath, while day shaded away into twilight, and that +deepened into night. At Kimberham Bridge the carriage-lamps +were all lit, and it was wonderful, where the road curved +downwards before us, to see this writhing serpent with the golden +scales crawling before us in the darkness. And then, at +last, we saw the formless mass of the huge Crawley elm looming +before us in the gloom, and there was the broad village street +with the glimmer of the cottage windows, and the high front of +the old George Inn, glowing from every door and pane and crevice, +in honour of the noble company who were to sleep within that +night.</p> +<h2><a name="page253"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +253</span>CHAPTER XV.<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">FOUL PLAY.</span></h2> +<p><span class="smcap">My</span> uncle’s impatience would +not suffer him to wait for the slow rotation which would bring us +to the door, but he flung the reins and a crown-piece to one of +the rough fellows who thronged the side-walk, and pushing his way +vigorously through the crowd, he made for the entrance. As +he came within the circle of light thrown by the windows, a +whisper ran round as to who this masterful gentleman with the +pale face and the driving-coat might be, and a lane was formed to +admit us. I had never before understood the popularity of +my uncle in the sporting world, for the folk began to huzza as we +passed with cries of “Hurrah for Buck Tregellis! Good +luck to you and your man, Sir Charles! Clear a path for a +bang-up noble Corinthian!” whilst the landlord, attracted +by the shouting, came running out to greet us.</p> +<p>“Good evening, Sir Charles!” he cried. +“I hope I see you well, sir, and I trust that you will find +that your man does credit to the George.”</p> +<p>“How is he?” asked my uncle, quickly.</p> +<p>“Never better, sir. Looks a picture, he +does—and fit to fight for a kingdom.”</p> +<p>My uncle gave a sigh of relief.</p> +<p>“Where is he?” he asked.</p> +<p>“He’s gone to his room early, sir, seein’ +that he had some very partic’lar business to-morrow +mornin’,” said the landlord, grinning.</p> +<p>“Where is Belcher?”</p> +<p>“Here he is, in the bar parlour.”</p> +<p>He opened a door as he spoke, and looking in we saw a score of +well-dressed men, some of whose faces had become familiar to me +during my short West End career, seated round a table upon which +stood a steaming soup-tureen filled with punch. At the +further end, very much at his ease amongst the aristocrats and +exquisites who surrounded him, sat the Champion of England, his +superb figure thrown back in his chair, a flush upon his handsome +face, and a loose red handkerchief knotted carelessly round his +throat in the picturesque fashion which was long known by his +name. Half a century has passed since then, and I have seen +my share of fine men. Perhaps it is because I am a slight +creature myself, but it is my peculiarity that I had rather look +upon a splendid man than upon any work of Nature. Yet +during all that time I have never seen a finer man than Jim +Belcher, and if I wish to match him in my memory, I can only turn +to that other Jim whose fate and fortunes I am trying to lay +before you.</p> +<p>There was a shout of jovial greeting when my uncle’s +face was seen in the doorway.</p> +<p>“Come in, Tregellis!” “We were +expecting you!” “There’s a devilled +bladebone ordered.” “What’s the latest +from London?” “What is the meaning of the long +odds against your man?” “Have the folk gone +mad?” “What the devil is it all +about?” They were all talking at once.</p> +<p>“Excuse me, gentlemen,” my uncle answered. +“I shall be happy to give you any information in my power a +little later. I have a matter of some slight importance to +decide. Belcher, I would have a word with you!”</p> +<p>The Champion came out with us into the passage.</p> +<p>“Where is your man, Belcher?”</p> +<p>“He has gone to his room, sir. I believe that he +should have a clear twelve hours’ sleep before +fighting.”</p> +<p>“What sort of day has he had?”</p> +<p>“I did him lightly in the matter of exercise. +Clubs, dumbbells, walking, and a half-hour with the +mufflers. He’ll do us all proud, sir, or I’m a +Dutchman! But what in the world’s amiss with the +betting? If I didn’t know that he was as straight as +a line, I’d ha’ thought he was planning a cross and +laying against himself.”</p> +<p>“It’s about that I’ve hurried down. I +have good information, Belcher, that there has been a plot to +cripple him, and that the rogues are so sure of success that they +are prepared to lay anything against his appearance.”</p> +<p>Belcher whistled between his teeth.</p> +<p>“I’ve seen no sign of anything of the kind, +sir. No one has been near him or had speech with him, +except only your nephew there and myself.”</p> +<p>“Four villains, with Berks at their head, got the start +of us by several hours. It was Warr who told me.”</p> +<p>“What Bill Warr says is straight, and what Joe Berks +does is crooked. Who were the others, sir?”</p> +<p>“Red Ike, Fighting Yussef, and Chris +McCarthy.”</p> +<p>“A pretty gang, too! Well, sir, the lad is safe, +but it would be as well, perhaps, for one or other of us to stay +in his room with him. For my own part, as long as +he’s my charge I’m never very far away.”</p> +<p>“It is a pity to wake him.”</p> +<p>“He can hardly be asleep with all this racket in the +house. This way, sir, and down the passage!”</p> +<p>We passed along the low-roofed, devious corridors of the +old-fashioned inn to the back of the house.</p> +<p>“This is my room, sir,” said Belcher, nodding to a +door upon the right. “This one upon the left is +his.” He threw it open as he spoke. +“Here’s Sir Charles Tregellis come to see you, +Jim,” said he; and then, “Good Lord, what is the +meaning of this?”</p> +<p>The little chamber lay before us brightly illuminated by a +brass lamp which stood upon the table. The bedclothes had +not been turned down, but there was an indentation upon the +counterpane which showed that some one had lain there. +One-half of the lattice window was swinging on its hinge, and a +cloth cap lying upon the table was the only sign of the +occupant. My uncle looked round him and shook his head.</p> +<p>“It seems that we are too late,” said he.</p> +<p>“That’s his cap, sir. Where in the world can +he have gone to with his head bare? I thought he was safe +in his bed an hour ago. Jim! Jim!” he +shouted.</p> +<p>“He has certainly gone through the window,” cried +my uncle. “I believe these villains have enticed him +out by some devilish device of their own. Hold the lamp, +nephew. Ha! I thought so. Here are his +footmarks upon the flower-bed outside.”</p> +<p>The landlord, and one or two of the Corinthians from the +bar-parlour, had followed us to the back of the house. Some +one had opened the side door, and we found ourselves in the +kitchen garden, where, clustering upon the gravel path, we were +able to hold the lamp over the soft, newly turned earth which lay +between us and the window.</p> +<p>“That’s his footmark!” said Belcher. +“He wore his running boots this evening, and you can see +the nails. But what’s this? Some one else has +been here.”</p> +<p>“A woman!” I cried.</p> +<p>“By Heaven, you’re right, nephew,” said my +uncle.</p> +<p>Belcher gave a hearty curse.</p> +<p>“He never had a word to say to any girl in the +village. I took partic’lar notice of that. And +to think of them coming in like this at the last +moment!”</p> +<p>“It’s clear as possible, Tregellis,” said +the Hon. Berkeley Craven, who was one of the company from the +bar-parlour. “Whoever it was came outside the window +and tapped. You see here, and here, the small feet have +their toes to the house, while the others are all leading +away. She came to summon him, and he followed +her.”</p> +<p>“That is perfectly certain,” said my uncle. +“There’s not a moment to be lost. We must +divide and search in different directions, unless we can get some +clue as to where they have gone.”</p> +<p>“There’s only the one path out of the +garden,” cried the landlord, leading the way. +“It opens out into this back lane, which leads up to the +stables. The other end of the lane goes out into the side +road.”</p> +<p>The bright yellow glare from a stable lantern cut a ring +suddenly from the darkness, and an ostler came lounging out of +the yard.</p> +<p>“Who’s that?” cried the landlord.</p> +<p>“It’s me, master! Bill Shields.”</p> +<p>“How long have you been there, Bill?”</p> +<p>“Well, master, I’ve been in an’ out of the +stables this hour back. We can’t pack in another +’orse, and there’s no use tryin’. I +daren’t ’ardly give them their feed, for, if they was +to thicken out just ever so little—”</p> +<p>“See here, Bill. Be careful how you answer, for a +mistake may cost you your place. Have you seen any one pass +down the lane?”</p> +<p>“There was a feller in a rabbit-skin cap some time +ago. ’E was loiterin’ about until I asked +’im what ’is business was, for I didn’t care +about the looks of ’im, or the way that ’e was +peepin’ in at the windows. I turned the stable +lantern on to ’im, but ’e ducked ’is face, +an’ I could only swear to ’is red +’ead.”</p> +<p>I cast a quick glance at my uncle, and I saw that the shadow +had deepened upon his face.</p> +<p>“What became of him?” he asked.</p> +<p>“’E slouched away, sir, an’ I saw the last +of ’im.”</p> +<p>“You’ve seen no one else? You didn’t, +for example, see a woman and a man pass down the lane +together?”</p> +<p>“No, sir.”</p> +<p>“Or hear anything unusual?”</p> +<p>“Why, now that you mention it, sir, I did ’ear +somethin’; but on a night like this, when all these London +blades are in the village—”</p> +<p>“What was it, then?” cried my uncle, +impatiently.</p> +<p>“Well, sir, it was a kind of a cry out yonder as if some +one ’ad got ’imself into trouble. I thought, +maybe, two sparks were fightin’, and I took no +partic’lar notice.”</p> +<p>“Where did it come from?”</p> +<p>“From the side road, yonder.”</p> +<p>“Was it distant?”</p> +<p>“No, sir; I should say it didn’t come from +more’n two hundred yards.”</p> +<p>“A single cry?”</p> +<p>“Well, it was a kind of screech, sir, and then I +’eard somebody drivin’ very ’ard down the +road. I remember thinking that it was strange that any one +should be driving away from Crawley on a great night like +this.”</p> +<p>My uncle seized the lantern from the fellow’s hand, and +we all trooped behind him down the lane. At the further end +the road cut it across at right angles. Down this my uncle +hastened, but his search was not a long one, for the glaring +light fell suddenly upon something which brought a groan to my +lips and a bitter curse to those of Jem Belcher. Along the +white surface of the dusty highway there was drawn a long smear +of crimson, while beside this ominous stain there lay a murderous +little pocket-bludgeon, such as Warr had described in the +morning.</p> +<h2><a name="page261"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +261</span>CHAPTER XVI.<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">CRAWLEY DOWNS.</span></h2> +<p><span class="smcap">All</span> through that weary night my +uncle and I, with Belcher, Berkeley Craven, and a dozen of the +Corinthians, searched the country side for some trace of our +missing man, but save for that ill-boding splash upon the road +not the slightest clue could be obtained as to what had befallen +him. No one had seen or heard anything of him, and the +single cry in the night of which the ostler told us was the only +indication of the tragedy which had taken place. In small +parties we scoured the country as far as East Grinstead and +Bletchingley, and the sun had been long over the horizon before +we found ourselves back at Crawley once more with heavy hearts +and tired feet. My uncle, who had driven to Reigate in the +hope of gaining some intelligence, did not return until past +seven o’clock, and a glance at his face gave us the same +black news which he gathered from ours.</p> +<p>We held a council round our dismal breakfast-table, to which +Mr. Berkeley Craven was invited as a man of sound wisdom and +large experience in matters of sport. Belcher was half +frenzied by this sudden ending of all the pains which he had +taken in the training, and could only rave out threats at Berks +and his companions, with terrible menaces as to what he would do +when he met them. My uncle sat grave and thoughtful, eating +nothing and drumming his fingers upon the table, while my heart +was heavy within me, and I could have sunk my face into my hands +and burst into tears as I thought how powerless I was to aid my +friend. Mr. Craven, a fresh-faced, alert man of the world, +was the only one of us who seemed to preserve both his wits and +his appetite.</p> +<p>“Let me see! The fight was to be at ten, was it +not?” he asked.</p> +<p>“It was to be.”</p> +<p>“I dare say it will be, too. Never say die, +Tregellis! Your man has still three hours in which to come +back.”</p> +<p>My uncle shook his head.</p> +<p>“The villains have done their work too well for that, I +fear,” said he.</p> +<p>“Well, now, let us reason it out,” said Berkeley +Craven. “A woman comes and she coaxes this young man +out of his room. Do you know any young woman who had an +influence over him?”</p> +<p>My uncle looked at me.</p> +<p>“No,” said I. “I know of +none.”</p> +<p>“Well, we know that she came,” said Berkeley +Craven. “There can be no question as to that. +She brought some piteous tale, no doubt, such as a gallant young +man could hardly refuse to listen to. He fell into the +trap, and allowed himself to be decoyed to the place where these +rascals were waiting for him. We may take all that as +proved, I should fancy, Tregellis.”</p> +<p>“I see no better explanation,” said my uncle.</p> +<p>“Well, then, it is obviously not the interest of these +men to kill him. Warr heard them say as much. They +could not make sure, perhaps, of doing so tough a young fellow an +injury which would certainly prevent him from fighting. +Even with a broken arm he might pull the fight off, as men have +done before. There was too much money on for them to run +any risks. They gave him a tap on the head, therefore, to +prevent his making too much resistance, and they then drove him +off to some farmhouse or stable, where they will hold him a +prisoner until the time for the fight is over. I warrant +that you see him before to-night as well as ever he +was.”</p> +<p>This theory sounded so reasonable that it seemed to lift a +little of the weight from my heart, but I could see that from my +uncle’s point of view it was a poor consolation.</p> +<p>“I dare say you are right, Craven,” said he.</p> +<p>“I am sure that I am.”</p> +<p>“But it won’t help us to win the fight.”</p> +<p>“That’s the point, sir,” cried +Belcher. “By the Lord, I wish they’d let me +take his place, even with my left arm strapped behind +me.”</p> +<p>“I should advise you in any case to go to the +ringside,” said Craven. “You should hold on +until the last moment in the hope of your man turning +up.”</p> +<p>“I shall certainly do so. And I shall protest +against paying the wagers under such circumstances.”</p> +<p>Craven shrugged his shoulders.</p> +<p>“You remember the conditions of the match,” said +he. “I fear it is pay or play. No doubt the +point might be submitted to the referees, but I cannot doubt that +they would have to give it against you.”</p> +<p>We had sunk into a melancholy silence, when suddenly Belcher +sprang up from the table.</p> +<p>“Hark!” he cried. “Listen to +that!”</p> +<p>“What is it?” we cried, all three.</p> +<p>“The betting! Listen again!”</p> +<p>Out of the babel of voices and roaring of wheels outside the +window a single sentence struck sharply on our ears.</p> +<p>“Even money upon Sir Charles’s nominee!”</p> +<p>“Even money!” cried my uncle. “It was +seven to one against me, yesterday. What is the meaning of +this?”</p> +<p>“Even money either way,” cried the voice +again.</p> +<p>“There’s somebody knows something,” said +Belcher, “and there’s nobody has a better right to +know what it is than we. Come on, sir, and we’ll get +to the bottom of it.”</p> +<p>The village street was packed with people, for they had been +sleeping twelve and fifteen in a room, whilst hundreds of +gentlemen had spent the night in their carriages. So thick +was the throng that it was no easy matter to get out of the +George. A drunken man, snoring horribly in his breathing, +was curled up in the passage, absolutely oblivious to the stream +of people who flowed round and occasionally over him.</p> +<p>“What’s the betting, boys?” asked Belcher, +from the steps.</p> +<p>“Even money, Jim,” cried several voices.</p> +<p>“It was long odds on Wilson when last I +heard.”</p> +<p>“Yes; but there came a man who laid freely the other +way, and he started others taking the odds, until now you can get +even money.”</p> +<p>“Who started it?”</p> +<p>“Why, that’s he! The man that lies drunk in +the passage. He’s been pouring it down like water +ever since he drove in at six o’clock, so it’s no +wonder he’s like that.”</p> +<p>Belcher stooped down and turned over the man’s inert +head so as to show his features.</p> +<p>“He’s a stranger to me, sir.”</p> +<p>“And to me,” added my uncle.</p> +<p>“But not to me,” I cried. “It’s +John Cumming, the landlord of the inn at Friar’s Oak. +I’ve known him ever since I was a boy, and I can’t be +mistaken.”</p> +<p>“Well, what the devil can <i>he</i> know about +it?” said Craven.</p> +<p>“Nothing at all, in all probability,” answered my +uncle. “He is backing young Jim because he knows him, +and because he has more brandy than sense. His drunken +confidence set others to do the same, and so the odds came +down.”</p> +<p>“He was as sober as a judge when he drove in here this +morning,” said the landlord. “He began backing +Sir Charles’s nominee from the moment he arrived. +Some of the other boys took the office from him, and they very +soon brought the odds down amongst them.”</p> +<p>“I wish he had not brought himself down as well,” +said my uncle. “I beg that you will bring me a little +lavender water, landlord, for the smell of this crowd is +appalling. I suppose you could not get any sense from this +drunken fellow, nephew, or find out what it is he +knows.”</p> +<p>It was in vain that I rocked him by the shoulder and shouted +his name in his ear. Nothing could break in upon that +serene intoxication.</p> +<p>“Well, it’s a unique situation as far as my +experience goes,” said Berkeley Craven. “Here +we are within a couple of hours of the fight, and yet you +don’t know whether you have a man to represent you. I +hope you don’t stand to lose very much, +Tregellis.”</p> +<p>My uncle shrugged his shoulders carelessly, and took a pinch +of his snuff with that inimitable sweeping gesture which no man +has ever ventured to imitate.</p> +<p>“Pretty well, my boy!” said he. “But +it is time that we thought of going up to the Downs. This +night journey has left me just a little <i>effleuré</i>, +and I should like half an hour of privacy to arrange my +toilet. If this is my last kick, it shall at least be with +a well-brushed boot.”</p> +<p>I have heard a traveller from the wilds of America say that he +looked upon the Red Indian and the English gentleman as closely +akin, citing the passion for sport, the aloofness and the +suppression of the emotions in each. I thought of his words +as I watched my uncle that morning, for I believe that no victim +tied to the stake could have had a worse outlook before +him. It was not merely that his own fortunes were largely +at stake, but it was the dreadful position in which he would +stand before this immense concourse of people, many of whom had +put their money upon his judgment, if he should find himself at +the last moment with an impotent excuse instead of a champion to +put before them. What a situation for a man who prided +himself upon his aplomb, and upon bringing all that he undertook +to the very highest standard of success! I, who knew him +well, could tell from his wan cheeks and his restless fingers +that he was at his wit’s ends what to do; but no stranger +who observed his jaunty bearing, the flecking of his laced +handkerchief, the handling of his quizzing glass, or the shooting +of his ruffles, would ever have thought that this butterfly +creature could have had a care upon earth.</p> +<p>It was close upon nine o’clock when we were ready to +start for the Downs, and by that time my uncle’s curricle +was almost the only vehicle left in the village street. The +night before they had lain with their wheels interlocking and +their shafts under each other’s bodies, as thick as they +could fit, from the old church to the Crawley Elm, spanning the +road five-deep for a good half-mile in length. Now the grey +village street lay before us almost deserted save by a few women +and children. Men, horses, carriages—all were +gone. My uncle drew on his driving-gloves and arranged his +costume with punctilious neatness; but I observed that he glanced +up and down the road with a haggard and yet expectant eye before +he took his seat. I sat behind with Belcher, while the Hon. +Berkeley Craven took the place beside him.</p> +<p>The road from Crawley curves gently upwards to the upland +heather-clad plateau which extends for many miles in every +direction. Strings of pedestrians, most of them so weary +and dust-covered that it was evident that they had walked the +thirty miles from London during the night, were plodding along by +the sides of the road or trailing over the long mottled slopes of +the moorland. A horseman, fantastically dressed in green +and splendidly mounted, was waiting at the crossroads, and as he +spurred towards us I recognised the dark, handsome face and bold +black eyes of Mendoza.</p> +<p>“I am waiting here to give the office, Sir +Charles,” said he. “It’s down the +Grinstead road, half a mile to the left.”</p> +<p>“Very good,” said my uncle, reining his mares +round into the cross-road.</p> +<p>“You haven’t got your man there,” remarked +Mendoza, with something of suspicion in his manner.</p> +<p>“What the devil is that to you?” cried Belcher, +furiously.</p> +<p>“It’s a good deal to all of us, for there are some +funny stories about.”</p> +<p>“You keep them to yourself, then, or you may wish you +had never heard them.”</p> +<p>“All right, Jem! Your breakfast don’t seem +to have agreed with you this morning.”</p> +<p>“Have the others arrived?” asked my uncle, +carelessly.</p> +<p>“Not yet, Sir Charles. But Tom Oliver is there +with the ropes and stakes. Jackson drove by just now, and +most of the ring-keepers are up.”</p> +<p>“We have still an hour,” remarked my uncle, as he +drove on. “It is possible that the others may be +late, since they have to come from Reigate.”</p> +<p>“You take it like a man, Tregellis,” said +Craven. “We must keep a bold face and brazen it out +until the last moment.”</p> +<p>“Of course, sir,” cried Belcher. +“I’ll never believe the betting would rise like that +if somebody didn’t know something. We’ll hold +on by our teeth and nails, Sir Charles, and see what comes of +it.”</p> +<p>We could hear a sound like the waves upon the beach, long +before we came in sight of that mighty multitude, and then at +last, on a sudden dip of the road, we saw it lying before us, a +whirlpool of humanity with an open vortex in the centre. +All round, the thousands of carriages and horses were dotted over +the moor, and the slopes were gay with tents and booths. A +spot had been chosen for the ring, where a great basin had been +hollowed out in the ground, so that all round that natural +amphitheatre a crowd of thirty thousand people could see very +well what was going on in the centre. As we drove up a buzz +of greeting came from the people upon the fringe which was +nearest to us, spreading and spreading, until the whole multitude +had joined in the acclamation. Then an instant later a +second shout broke forth, beginning from the other side of the +arena, and the faces which had been turned towards us whisked +round, so that in a twinkling the whole foreground changed from +white to dark.</p> +<p>“It’s they. They are in time,” said my +uncle and Craven together.</p> +<p>Standing up on our curricle, we could see the cavalcade +approaching over the Downs. In front came a huge yellow +barouche, in which sat Sir Lothian Hume, Crab Wilson, and Captain +Barclay, his trainer. The postillions were flying +canary-yellow ribands from their caps, those being the colours +under which Wilson was to fight. Behind the carriage there +rode a hundred or more noblemen and gentlemen of the west +country, and then a line of gigs, tilburies, and carriages wound +away down the Grinstead road as far as our eyes could follow +it. The big barouche came lumbering over the sward in our +direction until Sir Lothian Hume caught sight of us, when he +shouted to his postillions to pull up.</p> +<p>“Good morning, Sir Charles,” said he, springing +out of the carriage. “I thought I knew your scarlet +curricle. We have an excellent morning for the +battle.”</p> +<p>My uncle bowed coldly, and made no answer.</p> +<p>“I suppose that since we are all here we may begin at +once,” said Sir Lothian, taking no notice of the +other’s manner.</p> +<p>“We begin at ten o’clock. Not an instant +before.”</p> +<p>“Very good, if you prefer it. By the way, Sir +Charles, where is your man?”</p> +<p>“I would ask <i>you</i> that question, Sir +Lothian,” answered my uncle. “Where is my +man?”</p> +<p>A look of astonishment passed over Sir Lothian’s +features, which, if it were not real, was most admirably +affected.</p> +<p>“What do you mean by asking me such a +question?”</p> +<p>“Because I wish to know.”</p> +<p>“But how can I tell, and what business is it of +mine?”</p> +<p>“I have reason to believe that you have made it your +business.”</p> +<p>“If you would kindly put the matter a little more +clearly there would be some possibility of my understanding +you.”</p> +<p>They were both very white and cold, formal and unimpassioned +in their bearing, but exchanging glances which crossed like +rapier blades. I thought of Sir Lothian’s murderous +repute as a duellist, and I trembled for my uncle.</p> +<p>“Now, sir, if you imagine that you have a grievance +against me, you will oblige me vastly by putting it into +words.”</p> +<p>“I will,” said my uncle. “There has +been a conspiracy to maim or kidnap my man, and I have every +reason to believe that you are privy to it.”</p> +<p>An ugly sneer came over Sir Lothian’s saturnine +face.</p> +<p>“I see,” said he. “Your man has not +come on quite as well as you had expected in his training, and +you are hard put to it to invent an excuse. Still, I should +have thought that you might have found a more probable one, and +one which would entail less serious consequences.”</p> +<p>“Sir,” answered my uncle, “you are a liar, +but how great a liar you are nobody knows save +yourself.”</p> +<p>Sir Lothian’s hollow cheeks grew white with passion, and +I saw for an instant in his deep-set eyes such a glare as comes +from the frenzied hound rearing and ramping at the end of its +chain. Then, with an effort, he became the same cold, hard, +self-contained man as ever.</p> +<p>“It does not become our position to quarrel like two +yokels at a fair,” said he; “we shall go further into +the matter afterwards.”</p> +<p>“I promise you that we shall,” answered my uncle, +grimly.</p> +<p>“Meanwhile, I hold you to the terms of your wager. +Unless you produce your nominee within five-and-twenty minutes, I +claim the match.”</p> +<p>“Eight-and-twenty minutes,” said my uncle, looking +at his watch. “You may claim it then, but not an +instant before.”</p> +<p>He was admirable at that moment, for his manner was that of a +man with all sorts of hidden resources, so that I could hardly +make myself realize as I looked at him that our position was +really as desperate as I knew it to be. In the meantime +Berkeley Craven, who had been exchanging a few words with Sir +Lothian Hume, came back to our side.</p> +<p>“I have been asked to be sole referee in this +matter,” said he. “Does that meet with your +wishes, Sir Charles?”</p> +<p>“I should be vastly obliged to you, Craven, if you will +undertake the duties.”</p> +<p>“And Jackson has been suggested as +timekeeper.”</p> +<p>“I could not wish a better one.”</p> +<p>“Very good. That is settled.”</p> +<p>In the meantime the last of the carriages had come up, and the +horses had all been picketed upon the moor. The stragglers +who had dotted the grass had closed in until the huge crowd was +one unit with a single mighty voice, which was already beginning +to bellow its impatience. Looking round, there was hardly a +moving object upon the whole vast expanse of green and purple +down. A belated gig was coming at full gallop down the road +which led from the south, and a few pedestrians were still +trailing up from Crawley, but nowhere was there a sign of the +missing man.</p> +<p>“The betting keeps up for all that,” said +Belcher. “I’ve just been to the ring-side, and +it is still even.”</p> +<p>“There’s a place for you at the outer ropes, Sir +Charles,” said Craven.</p> +<p>“There is no sign of my man yet. I won’t +come in until he arrives.”</p> +<p>“It is my duty to tell you that only ten minutes are +left.”</p> +<p>“I make it five,” cried Sir Lothian Hume.</p> +<p>“That is a question which lies with the referee,” +said Craven, firmly. “My watch makes it ten minutes, +and ten it must be.”</p> +<p>“Here’s Crab Wilson!” cried Belcher, and at +the same moment a shout like a thunderclap burst from the +crowd. The west countryman had emerged from his +dressing-tent, followed by Dutch Sam and Tom Owen, who were +acting as his seconds. He was nude to the waist, with a +pair of white calico drawers, white silk stockings, and running +shoes. Round his middle was a canary-yellow sash, and +dainty little ribbons of the same colour fluttered from the sides +of his knees. He carried a high white hat in his hand, and +running down the lane which had been kept open through the crowd +to allow persons to reach the ring, he threw the hat high into +the air, so that it fell within the staked inclosure. Then +with a double spring he cleared the outer and inner line of rope, +and stood with his arms folded in the centre.</p> +<p>I do not wonder that the people cheered. Even Belcher +could not help joining in the general shout of applause. He +was certainly a splendidly built young athlete, and one could not +have wished to look upon a finer sight as his white skin, sleek +and luminous as a panther’s, gleamed in the light of the +morning sun, with a beautiful liquid rippling of muscles at every +movement. His arms were long and slingy, his shoulders +loose and yet powerful, with the downward slant which is a surer +index of power than squareness can be. He clasped his hands +behind his head, threw them aloft, and swung them backwards, and +at every movement some fresh expanse of his smooth, white skin +became knobbed and gnarled with muscles, whilst a yell of +admiration and delight from the crowd greeted each fresh +exhibition. Then, folding his arms once more, he stood like +a beautiful statue waiting for his antagonist.</p> +<p>Sir Lothian Hume had been looking impatiently at his watch, +and now he shut it with a triumphant snap.</p> +<p>“Time’s up!” he cried. “The +match is forfeit.”</p> +<p>“Time is not up,” said Craven.</p> +<p>“I have still five minutes.” My uncle looked +round with despairing eyes.</p> +<p>“Only three, Tregellis!”</p> +<p>A deep angry murmur was rising from the crowd.</p> +<p>“It’s a cross! It’s a cross! +It’s a fake!” was the cry.</p> +<p>“Two minutes, Tregellis!”</p> +<p>“Where’s your man, Sir Charles? +Where’s the man that we have backed?” Flushed +faces began to crane over each other, and angry eyes glared up at +us.</p> +<p>“One more minute, Tregellis! I am very sorry, but +it will be my duty to declare it forfeit against you.”</p> +<p>There was a sudden swirl in the crowd, a rush, a shout, and +high up in the air there spun an old black hat, floating over the +heads of the ring-siders and flickering down within the +ropes.</p> +<p>“Saved, by the Lord!” screamed Belcher.</p> +<p>“I rather fancy,” said my uncle, calmly, +“that this must be my man.”</p> +<p>“Too late!” cried Sir Lothian.</p> +<p>“No,” answered the referee. “It was +still twenty seconds to the hour. The fight will now +proceed.”</p> +<h2><a name="page277"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +277</span>CHAPTER XVII.<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">THE RING-SIDE.</span></h2> +<p><span class="smcap">Out</span> of the whole of that vast +multitude I was one of the very few who had observed whence it +was that this black hat, skimming so opportunely over the ropes, +had come. I have already remarked that when we looked +around us there had been a single gig travelling very rapidly +upon the southern road. My uncle’s eyes had rested +upon it, but his attention had been drawn away by the discussion +between Sir Lothian Hume and the referee upon the question of +time. For my own part, I had been so struck by the furious +manner in which these belated travellers were approaching, that I +had continued to watch them with all sorts of vague hopes within +me, which I did not dare to put into words for fear of adding to +my uncle’s disappointments. I had just made out that +the gig contained a man and a woman, when suddenly I saw it +swerve off the road, and come with a galloping horse and bounding +wheels right across the moor, crashing through the gorse bushes, +and sinking down to the hubs in the heather and bracken. As +the driver pulled up his foam-spattered horse, he threw the reins +to his companion, sprang from his seat, butted furiously into the +crowd, and then an instant afterwards up went the hat which told +of his challenge and defiance.</p> +<p>“There is no hurry now, I presume, Craven,” said +my uncle, as coolly as if this sudden effect had been carefully +devised by him.</p> +<p>“Now that your man has his hat in the ring you can take +as much time as you like, Sir Charles.”</p> +<p>“Your friend has certainly cut it rather fine, +nephew.”</p> +<p>“It is not Jim, sir,” I whispered. “It +is some one else.”</p> +<p>My uncle’s eyebrows betrayed his astonishment.</p> +<p>“Some one else!” he ejaculated.</p> +<p>“And a good man too!” roared Belcher, slapping his +thigh with a crack like a pistol-shot. “Why, blow my +dickey if it ain’t old Jack Harrison himself!”</p> +<p>Looking down at the crowd, we had seen the head and shoulders +of a powerful and strenuous man moving slowly forward, and +leaving behind him a long V-shaped ripple upon its surface like +the wake of a swimming dog. Now, as he pushed his way +through the looser fringe the head was raised, and there was the +grinning, hardy face of the smith looking up at us. He had +left his hat in the ring, and was enveloped in an overcoat with a +blue bird’s-eye handkerchief tied round his neck. As +he emerged from the throng he let his great-coat fly loose, and +showed that he was dressed in his full fighting kit—black +drawers, chocolate stockings, and white shoes.</p> +<p>“I’m right sorry to be so late, Sir +Charles,” he cried. “I’d have been +sooner, but it took me a little time to make it all straight with +the missus. I couldn’t convince her all at once, +an’ so I brought her with me, and we argued it out on the +way.”</p> +<p>Looking at the gig, I saw that it was indeed Mrs. Harrison who +was seated in it. Sir Charles beckoned him up to the wheel +of the curricle.</p> +<p>“What in the world brings you here, Harrison?” he +whispered. “I am as glad to see you as ever I was to +see a man in my life, but I confess that I did not expect +you.”</p> +<p>“Well, sir, you heard I was coming,” said the +smith.</p> +<p>“Indeed, I did not.”</p> +<p>“Didn’t you get a message, Sir Charles, from a man +named Cumming, landlord of the Friar’s Oak Inn? +Mister Rodney there would know him.”</p> +<p>“We saw him dead drunk at the George.”</p> +<p>“There, now, if I wasn’t afraid of it!” +cried Harrison, angrily. “He’s always like that +when he’s excited, and I never saw a man more off his head +than he was when he heard I was going to take this job +over. He brought a bag of sovereigns up with him to back me +with.”</p> +<p>“That’s how the betting got turned,” said my +uncle. “He found others to follow his lead, it +appears.”</p> +<p>“I was so afraid that he might get upon the drink that I +made him promise to go straight to you, sir, the very instant he +should arrive. He had a note to deliver.”</p> +<p>“I understand that he reached the George at six, whilst +I did not return from Reigate until after seven, by which time I +have no doubt that he had drunk his message to me out of his +head. But where is your nephew Jim, and how did you come to +know that you would be needed?”</p> +<p>“It is not his fault, I promise you, that you should be +left in the lurch. As to me, I had my orders to take his +place from the only man upon earth whose word I have never +disobeyed.”</p> +<p>“Yes, Sir Charles,” said Mrs. Harrison, who had +left the gig and approached us. “You can make the +most of it this time, for never again shall you have my +Jack—not if you were to go on your knees for +him.”</p> +<p>“She’s not a patron of sport, and that’s a +fact,” said the smith.</p> +<p>“Sport!” she cried, with shrill contempt and +anger. “Tell me when all is over.”</p> +<p>She hurried away, and I saw her afterwards seated amongst the +bracken, her back turned towards the multitude, and her hands +over her ears, cowering and wincing in an agony of +apprehension.</p> +<p>Whilst this hurried scene had been taking place, the crowd had +become more and more tumultuous, partly from their impatience at +the delay, and partly from their exuberant spirits at the +unexpected chance of seeing so celebrated a fighting man as +Harrison. His identity had already been noised abroad, and +many an elderly connoisseur plucked his long net-purse out of his +fob, in order to put a few guineas upon the man who would +represent the school of the past against the present. The +younger men were still in favour of the west-countryman, and +small odds were to be had either way in proportion to the number +of the supporters of each in the different parts of the +crowd.</p> +<p>In the mean time Sir Lothian Hume had come bustling up to the +Honourable Berkeley Craven, who was still standing near our +curricle.</p> +<p>“I beg to lodge a formal protest against these +proceedings,” said he.</p> +<p>“On what grounds, sir?”</p> +<p>“Because the man produced is not the original nominee of +Sir Charles Tregellis.”</p> +<p>“I never named one, as you are well aware,” said +my uncle.</p> +<p>“The betting has all been upon the understanding that +young Jim Harrison was my man’s opponent. Now, at the +last moment, he is withdrawn and another and more formidable man +put into his place.”</p> +<p>“Sir Charles Tregellis is quite within his +rights,” said Craven, firmly. “He undertook to +produce a man who should be within the age limits stipulated, and +I understand that Harrison fulfils all the conditions. You +are over five-and-thirty, Harrison?”</p> +<p>“Forty-one next month, master.”</p> +<p>“Very good. I direct that the fight +proceed.”</p> +<p>But alas! there was one authority which was higher even than +that of the referee, and we were destined to an experience which +was the prelude, and sometimes the conclusion, also, of many an +old-time fight. Across the moor there had ridden a +black-coated gentleman, with buff-topped hunting-boots and a +couple of grooms behind him, the little knot of horsemen showing +up clearly upon the curving swells and then dipping down into the +alternate hollows. Some of the more observant of the crowd +had glanced suspiciously at this advancing figure, but the +majority had not observed him at all until he reined up his horse +upon a knoll which overlooked the amphitheatre, and in a +stentorian voice announced that he represented the <i>Custos +rotulorum</i> of His Majesty’s county of Sussex, that he +proclaimed this assembly to be gathered together for an illegal +purpose, and that he was commissioned to disperse it by force, if +necessary.</p> +<p>Never before had I understood that deep-seated fear and +wholesome respect which many centuries of bludgeoning at the +hands of the law had beaten into the fierce and turbulent natives +of these islands. Here was a man with two attendants upon +one side, and on the other thirty thousand very angry and +disappointed people, many of them fighters by profession, and +some from the roughest and most dangerous classes in the +country. And yet it was the single man who appealed +confidently to force, whilst the huge multitude swayed and +murmured like a mutinous fierce-willed creature brought face to +face with a power against which it knew that there was neither +argument nor resistance. My uncle, however, with Berkeley +Craven, Sir John Lade, and a dozen other lords and gentlemen, +hurried across to the interrupter of the sport.</p> +<p>“I presume that you have a warrant, sir?” said +Craven.</p> +<p>“Yes, sir, I have a warrant.”</p> +<p>“Then I have a legal right to inspect it.”</p> +<p>The magistrate handed him a blue paper which the little knot +of gentlemen clustered their heads over, for they were mostly +magistrates themselves, and were keenly alive to any possible +flaw in the wording. At last Craven shrugged his shoulders, +and handed it back.</p> +<p>“This seems to be correct, sir,” said he.</p> +<p>“It is entirely correct,” answered the magistrate, +affably. “To prevent waste of your valuable time, +gentlemen, I may say, once for all, that it is my unalterable +determination that no fight shall, under any circumstances, be +brought off in the county over which I have control, and I am +prepared to follow you all day in order to prevent it.”</p> +<p>To my inexperience this appeared to bring the whole matter to +a conclusion, but I had underrated the foresight of those who +arrange these affairs, and also the advantages which made Crawley +Down so favourite a rendezvous. There was a hurried +consultation between the principals, the backers, the referee, +and the timekeeper.</p> +<p>“It’s seven miles to Hampshire border and about +two to Surrey,” said Jackson. The famous Master of +the Ring was clad in honour of the occasion in a most resplendent +scarlet coat worked in gold at the buttonholes, a white stock, a +looped hat with a broad black band, buff knee-breeches, white +silk stockings, and paste buckles—a costume which did +justice to his magnificent figure, and especially to those famous +“balustrade” calves which had helped him to be the +finest runner and jumper as well as the most formidable pugilist +in England. His hard, high-boned face, large piercing eyes, +and immense physique made him a fitting leader for that rough and +tumultuous body who had named him as their +commander-in-chief.</p> +<p>“If I might venture to offer you a word of +advice,” said the affable official, “it would be to +make for the Hampshire line, for Sir James Ford, on the Surrey +border, has as great an objection to such assemblies as I have, +whilst Mr. Merridew, of Long Hall, who is the Hampshire +magistrate, has fewer scruples upon the point.”</p> +<p>“Sir,” said my uncle, raising his hat in his most +impressive manner, “I am infinitely obliged to you. +With the referee’s permission, there is nothing for it but +to shift the stakes.”</p> +<p>In an instant a scene of the wildest animation had set +in. Tom Owen and his assistant, Fogo, with the help of the +ring-keepers, plucked up the stakes and ropes, and carried them +off across country. Crab Wilson was enveloped in great +coats, and borne away in the barouche, whilst Champion Harrison +took Mr. Craven’s place in our curricle. Then, off +the huge crowd started, horsemen, vehicles, and pedestrians, +rolling slowly over the broad face of the moorland. The +carriages rocked and pitched like boats in a seaway, as they +lumbered along, fifty abreast, scrambling and lurching over +everything which came in their way. Sometimes, with a snap +and a thud, one axle would come to the ground, whilst a wheel +reeled off amidst the tussocks of heather, and roars of delight +greeted the owners as they looked ruefully at the ruin. +Then as the gorse clumps grew thinner, and the sward more level, +those on foot began to run, the riders struck in their spurs, the +drivers cracked their whips, and away they all streamed in the +maddest, wildest cross-country steeplechase, the yellow barouche +and the crimson curricle, which held the two champions, leading +the van.</p> +<p>“What do you think of your chances, Harrison?” I +heard my uncle ask, as the two mares picked their way over the +broken ground.</p> +<p>“It’s my last fight, Sir Charles,” said the +smith. “You heard the missus say that if she let me +off this time I was never to ask again. I must try and make +it a good one.”</p> +<p>“But your training?”</p> +<p>“I’m always in training, sir. I work hard +from morning to night, and I drink little else than water. +I don’t think that Captain Barclay can do much better with +all his rules.”</p> +<p>“He’s rather long in the reach for you.”</p> +<p>“I’ve fought and beat them that were longer. +If it comes to a rally I should hold my own, and I should have +the better of him at a throw.”</p> +<p>“It’s a match of youth against experience. +Well, I would not hedge a guinea of my money. But, unless +he was acting under force, I cannot forgive young Jim for having +deserted me.”</p> +<p>“He <i>was</i> acting under force, Sir +Charles.”</p> +<p>“You have seen him, then?”</p> +<p>“No, master, I have not seen him.”</p> +<p>“You know where he is?”</p> +<p>“Well, it is not for me to say one way or the +other. I can only tell you that he could not help +himself. But here’s the beak a-comin’ for us +again.”</p> +<p>The ominous figure galloped up once more alongside of our +curricle, but this time his mission was a more amiable one.</p> +<p>“My jurisdiction ends at that ditch, sir,” said +he. “I should fancy that you could hardly wish a +better place for a mill than the sloping field beyond. I am +quite sure that no one will interfere with you there.”</p> +<p>His anxiety that the fight should be brought off was in such +contrast to the zeal with which he had chased us from his county, +that my uncle could not help remarking upon it.</p> +<p>“It is not for a magistrate to wink at the breaking of +the law, sir,” he answered. “But if my +colleague of Hampshire has no scruples about its being brought +off within his jurisdiction, I should very much like to see the +fight,” with which he spurred his horse up an adjacent +knoll, from which he thought that he might gain the best view of +the proceedings.</p> +<p>And now I had a view of all those points of etiquette and +curious survivals of custom which are so recent, that we have not +yet appreciated that they may some day be as interesting to the +social historian as they then were to the sportsman. A +dignity was given to the contest by a rigid code of ceremony, +just as the clash of mail-clad knights was prefaced and adorned +by the calling of the heralds and the showing of blazoned +shields. To many in those ancient days the tourney may have +seemed a bloody and brutal ordeal, but we who look at it with +ample perspective see that it was a rude but gallant preparation +for the conditions of life in an iron age. And so also, +when the ring has become as extinct as the lists, we may +understand that a broader philosophy would show that all things, +which spring up so naturally and spontaneously, have a function +to fulfil, and that it is a less evil that two men should, of +their own free will, fight until they can fight no more than that +the standard of hardihood and endurance should run the slightest +risk of being lowered in a nation which depends so largely upon +the individual qualities of her citizens for her defence. +Do away with war, if the cursed thing can by any wit of man be +avoided, but until you see your way to that, have a care in +meddling with those primitive qualities to which at any moment +you may have to appeal for your own protection.</p> +<p>Tom Owen and his singular assistant, Fogo, who combined the +functions of prize-fighter and of poet, though, fortunately for +himself, he could use his fists better than his pen, soon had the +ring arranged according to the rules then in vogue. The +white wooden posts, each with the P.C. of the pugilistic club +printed upon it, were so fixed as to leave a square of 24 feet +within the roped enclosure. Outside this ring an outer one +was pitched, eight feet separating the two. The inner was +for the combatants and for their seconds, while in the outer +there were places for the referee, the timekeeper, the backers, +and a few select and fortunate individuals, of whom, through +being in my uncle’s company, I was one. Some twenty +well-known prize-fighters, including my friend Bill Warr, Black +Richmond, Maddox, The Pride of Westminster, Tom Belcher, +Paddington Jones, Tough Tom Blake, Symonds the ruffian, Tyne the +tailor, and others, were stationed in the outer ring as +beaters. These fellows all wore the high white hats which +were at that time much affected by the fancy, and they were armed +with horse-whips, silver-mounted, and each bearing the P.C. +monogram. Did any one, be it East End rough or West End +patrician, intrude within the outer ropes, this corp of guardians +neither argued nor expostulated, but they fell upon the offender +and laced him with their whips until he escaped back out of the +forbidden ground. Even with so formidable a guard and such +fierce measures, the beaters-out, who had to check the forward +heaves of a maddened, straining crowd, were often as exhausted at +the end of a fight as the principals themselves. In the +mean time they formed up in a line of sentinels, presenting under +their row of white hats every type of fighting face, from the +fresh boyish countenances of Tom Belcher, Jones, and the other +younger recruits, to the scarred and mutilated visages of the +veteran bruisers.</p> +<p>Whilst the business of the fixing of the stakes and the +fastening of the ropes was going forward, I from my place of +vantage could hear the talk of the crowd behind me, the front two +rows of which were lying upon the grass, the next two kneeling, +and the others standing in serried ranks all up the side of the +gently sloping hill, so that each line could just see over the +shoulders of that which was in front. There were several, +and those amongst the most experienced, who took the gloomiest +view of Harrison’s chances, and it made my heart heavy to +overhear them.</p> +<p>“It’s the old story over again,” said +one. “They won’t bear in mind that youth will +be served. They only learn wisdom when it’s knocked +into them.”</p> +<p>“Ay, ay,” responded another. +“That’s how Jack Slack thrashed Boughton, and I +myself saw Hooper, the tinman, beat to pieces by the fighting +oilman. They all come to it in time, and now it’s +Harrison’s turn.”</p> +<p>“Don’t you be so sure about that!” cried a +third. “I’ve seen Jack Harrison fight five +times, and I never yet saw him have the worse of it. +He’s a slaughterer, and so I tell you.”</p> +<p>“He was, you mean.”</p> +<p>“Well, I don’t see no such difference as all that +comes to, and I’m putting ten guineas on my +opinion.”</p> +<p>“Why,” said a loud, consequential man from +immediately behind me, speaking with a broad western burr, +“vrom what I’ve zeen of this young Gloucester lad, I +doan’t think Harrison could have stood bevore him for ten +rounds when he vas in his prime. I vas coming up in the +Bristol coach yesterday, and the guard he told me that he had +vifteen thousand pound in hard gold in the boot that had been +zent up to back our man.”</p> +<p>“They’ll be in luck if they see their money +again,” said another. “Harrison’s no +lady’s-maid fighter, and he’s blood to the +bone. He’d have a shy at it if his man was as big as +Carlton House.”</p> +<p>“Tut,” answered the west-countryman. +“It’s only in Bristol and Gloucester that you can get +men to beat Bristol and Gloucester.”</p> +<p>“It’s like your damned himpudence to say +so,” said an angry voice from the throng behind him. +“There are six men in London that would hengage to walk +round the best twelve that hever came from the west.”</p> +<p>The proceedings might have opened by an impromptu bye-battle +between the indignant cockney and the gentleman from Bristol, but +a prolonged roar of applause broke in upon their +altercation. It was caused by the appearance in the ring of +Crab Wilson, followed by Dutch Sam and Mendoza carrying the +basin, sponge, brandy-bladder, and other badges of their +office. As he entered Wilson pulled the canary-yellow +handkerchief from his waist, and going to the corner post, he +tied it to the top of it, where it remained fluttering in the +breeze. He then took a bundle of smaller ribands of the +same colour from his seconds, and walking round, he offered them +to the noblemen and Corinthians at half-a-guinea apiece as +souvenirs of the fight. His brisk trade was only brought to +an end by the appearance of Harrison, who climbed in a very +leisurely manner over the ropes, as befitted his more mature +years and less elastic joints. The yell which greeted him +was even more enthusiastic than that which had heralded Wilson, +and there was a louder ring of admiration in it, for the crowd +had already had their opportunity of seeing Wilson’s +physique, whilst Harrison’s was a surprise to them.</p> +<p>I had often looked upon the mighty arms and neck of the smith, +but I had never before seen him stripped to the waist, or +understood the marvellous symmetry of development which had made +him in his youth the favourite model of the London +sculptors. There was none of that white sleek skin and +shimmering play of sinew which made Wilson a beautiful picture, +but in its stead there was a rugged grandeur of knotted and +tangled muscle, as though the roots of some old tree were +writhing from breast to shoulder, and from shoulder to +elbow. Even in repose the sun threw shadows from the curves +of his skin, but when he exerted himself every muscle bunched +itself up, distinct and hard, breaking his whole trunk into +gnarled knots of sinew. His skin, on face and body, was +darker and harsher than that of his youthful antagonist, but he +looked tougher and harder, an effect which was increased by the +sombre colour of his stockings and breeches. He entered the +ring, sucking a lemon, with Jim Belcher and Caleb Baldwin, the +coster, at his heels. Strolling across to the post, he tied +his blue bird’s-eye handkerchief over the +west-countryman’s yellow, and then walked to his opponent +with his hand out.</p> +<p>“I hope I see you well, Wilson,” said he.</p> +<p>“Pretty tidy, I thank you,” answered the +other. “We’ll speak to each other in a +different vashion, I ’spects, afore we part.”</p> +<p>“But no ill-feeling,” said the smith, and the two +fighting men grinned at each other as they took their own +corners.</p> +<p>“May I ask, Mr. Referee, whether these two men have been +weighed?” asked Sir Lothian Hume, standing up in the outer +ring.</p> +<p>“Their weight has just been taken under my supervision, +sir,” answered Mr. Craven. “Your man brought +the scale down at thirteen-three, and Harrison at +thirteen-eight.”</p> +<p>“He’s a fifteen-stoner from the loins +upwards,” cried Dutch Sam, from his corner.</p> +<p>“We’ll get some of it off him before we +finish.”</p> +<p>“You’ll get more off him than ever you bargained +for,” answered Jim Belcher, and the crowd laughed at the +rough chaff.</p> +<h2><a name="page294"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +294</span>CHAPTER XVIII.<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">THE SMITH’S LAST BATTLE.</span></h2> +<p>“<span class="smcap">Clear</span> the outer ring!” +cried Jackson, standing up beside the ropes with a big silver +watch in his hand.</p> +<p>“Ss-whack! ss-whack! ss-whack!” went the +horse-whips—for a number of the spectators, either driven +onwards by the pressure behind or willing to risk some physical +pain on the chance of getting a better view, had crept under the +ropes and formed a ragged fringe within the outer ring. +Now, amidst roars of laughter from the crowd and a shower of +blows from the beaters-out, they dived madly back, with the +ungainly haste of frightened sheep blundering through a gap in +their hurdles. Their case was a hard one, for the folk in +front refused to yield an inch of their places—but the +arguments from the rear prevailed over everything else, and +presently every frantic fugitive had been absorbed, whilst the +beaters-out took their stands along the edge at regular +intervals, with their whips held down by their thighs.</p> +<p>“Gentlemen,” cried Jackson, again, “I am +requested to inform you that Sir Charles Tregellis’s +nominee is Jack Harrison, fighting at thirteen-eight, and Sir +Lothian Hume’s is Crab Wilson, at thirteen-three. No +person can be allowed at the inner ropes save the referee and the +timekeeper. I have only to beg that, if the occasion should +require it, you will all give me your assistance to keep the +ground clear, to prevent confusion, and to have a fair +fight. All ready?”</p> +<p>“All ready!” from both corners.</p> +<p>“Time!”</p> +<p>There was a breathless hush as Harrison, Wilson, Belcher, and +Dutch Sam walked very briskly into the centre of the ring. +The two men shook hands, whilst their seconds did the same, the +four hands crossing each other. Then the seconds dropped +back, and the two champions stood toe to toe, with their hands +up.</p> +<p>It was a magnificent sight to any one who had not lost his +sense of appreciation of the noblest of all the works of +Nature. Both men fulfilled that requisite of the powerful +athlete that they should look larger without their clothes than +with them. In ring slang, they buffed well. And each +showed up the other’s points on account of the extreme +contrast between them: the long, loose-limbed, deer-footed +youngster, and the square-set, rugged veteran with his trunk like +the stump of an oak. The betting began to rise upon the +younger man from the instant that they were put face to face, for +his advantages were obvious, whilst those qualities which had +brought Harrison to the top in his youth were only a memory in +the minds of the older men. All could see the three inches +extra of height and two of reach which Wilson possessed, and a +glance at the quick, cat-like motions of his feet, and the +perfect poise of his body upon his legs, showed how swiftly he +could spring either in or out from his slower adversary. +But it took a subtler insight to read the grim smile which +flickered over the smith’s mouth, or the smouldering fire +which shone in his grey eyes, and it was only the old-timers who +knew that, with his mighty heart and his iron frame, he was a +perilous man to lay odds against.</p> +<p>Wilson stood in the position from which he had derived his +nickname, his left hand and left foot well to the front, his body +sloped very far back from his loins, and his guard thrown across +his chest, but held well forward in a way which made him +exceedingly hard to get at. The smith, on the other hand, +assumed the obsolete attitude which Humphries and Mendoza +introduced, but which had not for ten years been seen in a +first-class battle. Both his knees were slightly bent, he +stood square to his opponent, and his two big brown fists were +held over his mark so that he could lead equally with +either. Wilson’s hands, which moved incessantly in +and out, had been stained with some astringent juice with the +purpose of preventing them from puffing, and so great was the +contrast between them and his white forearms, that I imagined +that he was wearing dark, close-fitting gloves until my uncle +explained the matter in a whisper. So they stood in a +quiver of eagerness and expectation, whilst that huge multitude +hung so silently and breathlessly upon every motion that they +might have believed themselves to be alone, man to man, in the +centre of some primeval solitude.</p> +<p>It was evident from the beginning that Crab Wilson meant to +throw no chance away, and that he would trust to his lightness of +foot and quickness of hand until he should see something of the +tactics of this rough-looking antagonist. He paced swiftly +round several times, with little, elastic, menacing steps, whilst +the smith pivoted slowly to correspond. Then, as Wilson +took a backward step to induce Harrison to break his ground and +follow him, the older man grinned and shook his head.</p> +<p>“You must come to me, lad,” said he. +“I’m too old to scamper round the ring after +you. But we have the day before us, and I’ll +wait.”</p> +<p>He may not have expected his invitation to be so promptly +answered; but in an instant, with a panther spring, the +west-countryman was on him. Smack! smack! smack! +Thud! thud! The first three were on Harrison’s face, +the last two were heavy counters upon Wilson’s body. +Back danced the youngster, disengaging himself in beautiful +style, but with two angry red blotches over the lower line of his +ribs. “Blood for Wilson!” yelled the crowd, and +as the smith faced round to follow the movements of his nimble +adversary, I saw with a thrill that his chin was crimson and +dripping. In came Wilson again with a feint at the mark and +a flush hit on Harrison’s cheek; then, breaking the force +of the smith’s ponderous right counter, he brought the +round to a conclusion by slipping down upon the grass.</p> +<p>“First knock-down for Harrison!” roared a thousand +voices, for ten times as many pounds would change hands upon the +point.</p> +<p>“I appeal to the referee!” cried Sir Lothian +Hume. “It was a slip, and not a +knock-down.”</p> +<p>“I give it a slip,” said Berkeley Craven, and the +men walked to their corners, amidst a general shout of applause +for a spirited and well-contested opening round. Harrison +fumbled in his mouth with his finger and thumb, and then with a +sharp half-turn he wrenched out a tooth, which he threw into the +basin. “Quite like old times,” said he to +Belcher.</p> +<p>“Have a care, Jack!” whispered the anxious +second. “You got rather more than you +gave.”</p> +<p>“Maybe I can carry more, too,” said he serenely, +whilst Caleb Baldwin mopped the big sponge over his face, and the +shining bottom of the tin basin ceased suddenly to glimmer +through the water.</p> +<p>I could gather from the comments of the experienced +Corinthians around me, and from the remarks of the crowd behind, +that Harrison’s chance was thought to have been lessened by +this round.</p> +<p>“I’ve seen his old faults and I haven’t seen +his old merits,” said Sir John Lade, our opponent of the +Brighton Road. “He’s as slow on his feet and +with his guard as ever. Wilson hit him as he +liked.”</p> +<p>“Wilson may hit him three times to his once, but his one +is worth Wilson’s three,” remarked my uncle. +“He’s a natural fighter and the other an excellent +sparrer, but I don’t hedge a guinea.”</p> +<p>A sudden hush announced that the men were on their feet again, +and so skilfully had the seconds done their work, that neither +looked a jot the worse for what had passed. Wilson led +viciously with his left, but misjudged his distance, receiving a +smashing counter on the mark in reply which sent him reeling and +gasping to the ropes. “Hurrah for the old one!” +yelled the mob, and my uncle laughed and nudged Sir John +Lade. The west-countryman smiled, and shook himself like a +dog from the water as with a stealthy step he came back to the +centre of the ring, where his man was still standing. Bang +came Harrison’s right upon the mark once more, but Crab +broke the blow with his elbow, and jumped laughing away. +Both men were a little winded, and their quick, high breathing, +with the light patter of their feet as they danced round each +other, blended into one continuous, long-drawn sound. Two +simultaneous exchanges with the left made a clap like a +pistol-shot, and then as Harrison rushed in for a fall, Wilson +slipped him, and over went my old friend upon his face, partly +from the impetus of his own futile attack, and partly from a +swinging half-arm blow which the west-countryman brought home +upon his ear as he passed.</p> +<p>“Knock-down for Wilson,” cried the referee, and +the answering roar was like the broadside of a +seventy-four. Up went hundreds of curly brimmed Corinthian +hats into the air, and the slope before us was a bank of flushed +and yelling faces. My heart was cramped with my fears, and +I winced at every blow, yet I was conscious also of an absolute +fascination, with a wild thrill of fierce joy and a certain +exultation in our common human nature which could rise above pain +and fear in its straining after the very humblest form of +fame.</p> +<p>Belcher and Baldwin had pounced upon their man, and had him up +and in his corner in an instant, but, in spite of the coolness +with which the hardy smith took his punishment, there was immense +exultation amongst the west-countrymen.</p> +<p>“We’ve got him! He’s beat! +He’s beat!” shouted the two Jew seconds. +“It’s a hundred to a tizzy on Gloucester!”</p> +<p>“Beat, is he?” answered Belcher. +“You’ll need to rent this field before you can beat +him, for he’ll stand a month of that kind of +fly-flappin’.” He was swinging a towel in front +of Harrison as he spoke, whilst Baldwin mopped him with the +sponge.</p> +<p>“How is it with you, Harrison?” asked my +uncle.</p> +<p>“Hearty as a buck, sir. It’s as right as the +day.”</p> +<p>The cheery answer came with so merry a ring that the clouds +cleared from my uncle’s face.</p> +<p>“You should recommend your man to lead more, +Tregellis,” said Sir John Lade. “He’ll +never win it unless he leads.”</p> +<p>“He knows more about the game than you or I do, +Lade. I’ll let him take his own way.”</p> +<p>“The betting is three to one against him now,” +said a gentleman, whose grizzled moustache showed that he was an +officer of the late war.</p> +<p>“Very true, General Fitzpatrick. But you’ll +observe that it is the raw young bloods who are giving the odds, +and the Sheenies who are taking them. I still stick to my +opinion.”</p> +<p>The two men came briskly up to the scratch at the call of +time, the smith a little lumpy on one side of his head, but with +the same good-humoured and yet menacing smile upon his +lips. As to Wilson, he was exactly as he had begun in +appearance, but twice I saw him close his lips sharply as if he +were in a sudden spasm of pain, and the blotches over his ribs +were darkening from scarlet to a sullen purple. He held his +guard somewhat lower to screen this vulnerable point, and he +danced round his opponent with a lightness which showed that his +wind had not been impaired by the body-blows, whilst the smith +still adopted the impassive tactics with which he had +commenced.</p> +<p>Many rumours had come up to us from the west as to Crab +Wilson’s fine science and the quickness of his hitting, but +the truth surpassed what had been expected of him. In this +round and the two which followed he showed a swiftness and +accuracy which old ringsiders declared that Mendoza in his prime +had never surpassed. He was in and out like lightning, and +his blows were heard and felt rather than seen. But +Harrison still took them all with the same dogged smile, +occasionally getting in a hard body-blow in return, for his +adversary’s height and his position combined to keep his +face out of danger. At the end of the fifth round the odds +were four to one, and the west-countrymen were riotous in their +exultation.</p> +<p>“What think you now?” cried the west-countryman +behind me, and in his excitement he could get no further save to +repeat over and over again, “What think you +now?” When in the sixth round the smith was peppered +twice without getting in a counter, and had the worst of the fall +as well, the fellow became inarticulate altogether, and could +only huzza wildly in his delight. Sir Lothian Hume was +smiling and nodding his head, whilst my uncle was coldly +impassive, though I was sure that his heart was as heavy as +mine.</p> +<p>“This won’t do, Tregellis,” said General +Fitzpatrick. “My money is on the old one, but the +other is the finer boxer.”</p> +<p>“My man is <i>un peu passé</i>, but he will come +through all right,” answered my uncle.</p> +<p>I saw that both Belcher and Baldwin were looking grave, and I +knew that we must have a change of some sort, or the old tale of +youth and age would be told once more.</p> +<p>The seventh round, however, showed the reserve strength of the +hardy old fighter, and lengthened the faces of those layers of +odds who had imagined that the fight was practically over, and +that a few finishing rounds would have given the smith his +<i>coup-de-grâce</i>. It was clear when the two men +faced each other that Wilson had made himself up for mischief, +and meant to force the fighting and maintain the lead which he +had gained, but that grey gleam was not quenched yet in the +veteran’s eyes, and still the same smile played over his +grim face. He had become more jaunty, too, in the swing of +his shoulders and the poise of his head, and it brought my +confidence back to see the brisk way in which he squared up to +his man.</p> +<p>Wilson led with his left, but was short, and he only just +avoided a dangerous right-hander which whistled in at his +ribs. “Bravo, old ’un, one of those will be a +dose of laudanum if you get it home,” cried Belcher. +There was a pause of shuffling feet and hard breathing, broken by +the thud of a tremendous body blow from Wilson, which the smith +stopped with the utmost coolness. Then again a few seconds +of silent tension, when Wilson led viciously at the head, but +Harrison took it on his forearm, smiling and nodding at his +opponent. “Get the pepper-box open!” yelled +Mendoza, and Wilson sprang in to carry out his instructions, but +was hit out again by a heavy drive on the chest. +“Now’s the time! Follow it up!” cried +Belcher, and in rushed the smith, pelting in his half-arm blows, +and taking the returns without a wince, until Crab Wilson went +down exhausted in the corner. Both men had their marks to +show, but Harrison had all the best of the rally, so it was our +turn to throw our hats into the air and to shout ourselves +hoarse, whilst the seconds clapped their man upon his broad back +as they hurried him to his corner.</p> +<p>“What think you now?” shouted all the neighbours +of the west-countryman, repeating his own refrain.</p> +<p>“Why, Dutch Sam never put in a better rally,” +cried Sir John Lade. “What’s the betting now, +Sir Lothian?”</p> +<p>“I have laid all that I intend; but I don’t think +my man can lose it.” For all that, the smile had +faded from his face, and I observed that he glanced continually +over his shoulder into the crowd behind him.</p> +<p>A sullen purple cloud had been drifting slowly up from the +south-west—though I dare say that out of thirty thousand +folk there were very few who had spared the time or attention to +mark it. Now it suddenly made its presence apparent by a +few heavy drops of rain, thickening rapidly into a sharp shower, +which filled the air with its hiss, and rattled noisily upon the +high, hard hats of the Corinthians. Coat-collars were +turned up and handkerchiefs tied round necks, whilst the skins of +the two men glistened with the moisture as they stood up to each +other once more. I noticed that Belcher whispered very +earnestly into Harrison’s ear as he rose from his knee, and +that the smith nodded his head curtly, with the air of a man who +understands and approves of his orders.</p> +<p>And what those orders were was instantly apparent. +Harrison was to be turned from the defender into the +attacker. The result of the rally in the last round had +convinced his seconds that when it came to give-and-take hitting, +their hardy and powerful man was likely to have the better of +it. And then on the top of this came the rain. With +the slippery grass the superior activity of Wilson would be +neutralized, and he would find it harder to avoid the rushes of +his opponent. It was in taking advantage of such +circumstances that the art of ringcraft lay, and many a shrewd +and vigilant second had won a losing battle for his man. +“Go in, then! Go in!” whooped the two +prize-fighters, while every backer in the crowd took up the +roar.</p> +<p>And Harrison went in, in such fashion that no man who saw him +do it will ever forget it. Crab Wilson, as game as a +pebble, met him with a flush hit every time, but no human +strength or human science seemed capable of stopping the terrible +onslaught of this iron man. Round after round he scrambled +his way in, slap-bang, right and left, every hit tremendously +sent home. Sometimes he covered his own face with his left, +and sometimes he disdained to use any guard at all, but his +springing hits were irresistible. The rain lashed down upon +them, pouring from their faces and running in crimson trickles +over their bodies, but neither gave any heed to it save to +manœuvre always with the view of bringing it in to each +other’s eyes. But round after round the +west-countryman fell, and round after round the betting rose, +until the odds were higher in our favour than ever they had been +against us. With a sinking heart, filled with pity and +admiration for these two gallant men, I longed that every bout +might be the last, and yet the “Time!” was hardly out +of Jackson’s mouth before they had both sprung from their +second’s knees, with laughter upon their mutilated faces +and chaffing words upon their bleeding lips. It may have +been a humble object-lesson, but I give you my word that many a +time in my life I have braced myself to a hard task by the +remembrance of that morning upon Crawley Downs, asking myself if +my manhood were so weak that I would not do for my country, or +for those whom I loved, as much as these two would endure for a +paltry stake and for their own credit amongst their +fellows. Such a spectacle may brutalize those who are +brutal, but I say that there is a spiritual side to it also, and +that the sight of the utmost human limit of endurance and courage +is one which bears a lesson of its own.</p> +<p>But if the ring can breed bright virtues, it is but a partisan +who can deny that it can be the mother of black vices also, and +we were destined that morning to have a sight of each. It +so chanced that, as the battle went against his man, my eyes +stole round very often to note the expression upon Sir Lothian +Hume’s face, for I knew how fearlessly he had laid the +odds, and I understood that his fortunes as well as his champion +were going down before the smashing blows of the old +bruiser. The confident smile with which he had watched the +opening rounds had long vanished from his lips, and his cheeks +had turned of a sallow pallor, whilst his small, fierce grey eyes +looked furtively from under his craggy brows, and more than once +he burst into savage imprecations when Wilson was beaten to the +ground. But especially I noticed that his chin was always +coming round to his shoulder, and that at the end of every round +he sent keen little glances flying backwards into the +crowd. For some time, amidst the immense hillside of faces +which banked themselves up on the slope behind us, I was unable +to pick out the exact point at which his gaze was directed. +But at last I succeeded in following it. A very tall man, +who showed a pair of broad, bottle-green shoulders high above his +neighbours, was looking very hard in our direction, and I assured +myself that a quick exchange of almost imperceptible signals was +going on between him and the Corinthian baronet. I became +conscious, also, as I watched this stranger, that the cluster of +men around him were the roughest elements of the whole assembly: +fierce, vicious-looking fellows, with cruel, debauched faces, who +howled like a pack of wolves at every blow, and yelled +execrations at Harrison whenever he walked across to his +corner. So turbulent were they that I saw the ringkeepers +whisper together and glance up in their direction, as if +preparing for trouble in store, but none of them had realized how +near it was to breaking out, or how dangerous it might prove.</p> +<p>Thirty rounds had been fought in an hour and twenty-five +minutes, and the rain was pelting down harder than ever. A +thick steam rose from the two fighters, and the ring was a pool +of mud. Repeated falls had turned the men brown, with a +horrible mottling of crimson blotches. Round after round +had ended by Crab Wilson going down, and it was evident, even to +my inexperienced eyes, that he was weakening rapidly. He +leaned heavily upon the two Jews when they led him to his corner, +and he reeled when their support was withdrawn. Yet his +science had, through long practice, become an automatic thing +with him, so that he stopped and hit with less power, but with as +great accuracy as ever. Even now a casual observer might +have thought that he had the best of the battle, for the smith +was far the more terribly marked, but there was a wild stare in +the west-countryman’s eyes, and a strange catch in his +breathing, which told us that it is not the most dangerous blow +which shows upon the surface. A heavy cross-buttock at the +end of the thirty-first round shook the breath from his body, and +he came up for the thirty-second with the same jaunty gallantry +as ever, but with the dazed expression of a man whose wind has +been utterly smashed.</p> +<p>“He’s got the roly-polies,” cried +Belcher. “You have it your own way now!”</p> +<p>“I’ll vight for a week yet,” gasped +Wilson.</p> +<p>“Damme, I like his style,” cried Sir John +Lade. “No shifting, nothing shy, no hugging nor +hauling. It’s a shame to let him fight. Take +the brave fellow away!”</p> +<p>“Take him away! Take him away!” echoed a +hundred voices.</p> +<p>“I won’t be taken away! Who dares say +so?” cried Wilson, who was back, after another fall, upon +his second’s knee.</p> +<p>“His heart won’t suffer him to cry enough,” +said General Fitzpatrick. “As his patron, Sir +Lothian, you should direct the sponge to be thrown up.”</p> +<p>“You think he can’t win it?”</p> +<p>“He is hopelessly beat, sir.”</p> +<p>“You don’t know him. He’s a glutton of +the first water.”</p> +<p>“A gamer man never pulled his shirt off; but the other +is too strong for him.”</p> +<p>“Well, sir, I believe that he can fight another ten +rounds.” He half turned as he spoke, and I saw him +throw up his left arm with a singular gesture into the air.</p> +<p>“Cut the ropes! Fair play! Wait till the +rain stops!” roared a stentorian voice behind me, and I saw +that it came from the big man with the bottle-green coat. +His cry was a signal, for, like a thunderclap, there came a +hundred hoarse voices shouting together: “Fair play for +Gloucester! Break the ring! Break the +ring!”</p> +<p>Jackson had called “Time,” and the two +mud-plastered men were already upon their feet, but the interest +had suddenly changed from the fight to the audience. A +succession of heaves from the back of the crowd had sent a series +of long ripples running through it, all the heads swaying +rhythmically in the one direction like a wheatfield in a +squall. With every impulsion the oscillation increased, +those in front trying vainly to steady themselves against the +rushes from behind, until suddenly there came a sharp snap, two +white stakes with earth clinging to their points flew into the +outer ring, and a spray of people, dashed from the solid wave +behind, were thrown against the line of the beaters-out. +Down came the long horse-whips, swayed by the most vigorous arms +in England; but the wincing and shouting victims had no sooner +scrambled back a few yards from the merciless cuts, before a +fresh charge from the rear hurled them once more into the arms of +the prize-fighters. Many threw themselves down upon the +turf and allowed successive waves to pass over their bodies, +whilst others, driven wild by the blows, returned them with their +hunting-crops and walking-canes. And then, as half the +crowd strained to the left and half to the right to avoid the +pressure from behind, the vast mass was suddenly reft in twain, +and through the gap surged the rough fellows from behind, all +armed with loaded sticks and yelling for “Fair play and +Gloucester!” Their determined rush carried the +prize-fighters before them, the inner ropes snapped like threads, +and in an instant the ring was a swirling,’ seething mass +of figures, whips and sticks falling and clattering, whilst, face +to face, in the middle of it all, so wedged that they could +neither advance nor retreat, the smith and the west-countryman +continued their long-drawn battle as oblivious of the chaos +raging round them as two bulldogs would have been who had got +each other by the throat. The driving rain, the cursing and +screams of pain, the swish of the blows, the yelling of orders +and advice, the heavy smell of the damp cloth—every +incident of that scene of my early youth comes back to me now in +my old age as clearly as if it had been but yesterday.</p> +<p>It was not easy for us to observe anything at the time, +however, for we were ourselves in the midst of the frantic crowd, +swaying about and carried occasionally quite off our feet, but +endeavouring to keep our places behind Jackson and Berkeley +Craven, who, with sticks and whips meeting over their heads, were +still calling the rounds and superintending the fight.</p> +<p>“The ring’s broken!” shouted Sir Lothian +Hume. “I appeal to the referee! The fight is +null and void.”</p> +<p>“You villain!” cried my uncle, hotly; “this +is your doing.”</p> +<p>“You have already an account to answer for with +me,” said Hume, with his sinister sneer, and as he spoke he +was swept by the rush of the crowd into my uncle’s very +arms. The two men’s faces were not more than a few +inches apart, and Sir Lothian’s bold eyes had to sink +before the imperious scorn which gleamed coldly in those of my +uncle.</p> +<p>“We will settle our accounts, never fear, though I +degrade myself in meeting such a blackleg. What is it, +Craven?”</p> +<p>“We shall have to declare a draw, Tregellis.”</p> +<p>“My man has the fight in hand.”</p> +<p>“I cannot help it. I cannot attend to my duties +when every moment I am cut over with a whip or a +stick.”</p> +<p>Jackson suddenly made a wild dash into the crowd, but returned +with empty hands and a rueful face.</p> +<p>“They’ve stolen my timekeeper’s +watch,” he cried. “A little cove snatched it +out of my hand.”</p> +<p>My uncle clapped his hand to his fob.</p> +<p>“Mine has gone also!” he cried.</p> +<p>“Draw it at once, or your man will get hurt,” said +Jackson, and we saw that as the undaunted smith stood up to +Wilson for another round, a dozen rough fellows were clustering +round him with bludgeons.</p> +<p>“Do you consent to a draw, Sir Lothian Hume?”</p> +<p>“I do.”</p> +<p>“And you, Sir Charles?”</p> +<p>“Certainly not.”</p> +<p>“The ring is gone.”</p> +<p>“That is no fault of mine.”</p> +<p>“Well, I see no help for it. As referee I order +that the men be withdrawn, and that the stakes be returned to +their owners.”</p> +<p>“A draw! A draw!” shrieked every one, and +the crowd in an instant dispersed in every direction, the +pedestrians running to get a good lead upon the London road, and +the Corinthians in search of their horses and carriages. +Harrison ran over to Wilson’s corner and shook him by the +hand.</p> +<p>“I hope I have not hurt you much.”</p> +<p>“I’m hard put to it to stand. How are +you?”</p> +<p>“My head’s singin’ like a kettle. It +was the rain that helped me.”</p> +<p>“Yes, I thought I had you beat one time. I never +wish a better battle.”</p> +<p>“Nor me either. Good-bye.”</p> +<p>And so those two brave-hearted fellows made their way amidst +the yelping roughs, like two wounded lions amidst a pack of +wolves and jackals. I say again that, if the ring has +fallen low, it is not in the main the fault of the men who have +done the fighting, but it lies at the door of the vile crew of +ring-side parasites and ruffians, who are as far below the honest +pugilist as the welsher and the blackleg are below the noble +racehorse which serves them as a pretext for their +villainies.</p> +<h2><a name="page314"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +314</span>CHAPTER XIX.<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">CLIFFE ROYAL.</span></h2> +<p><span class="smcap">My</span> uncle was humanely anxious to +get Harrison to bed as soon as possible, for the smith, although +he laughed at his own injuries, had none the less been severely +punished.</p> +<p>“Don’t you dare ever to ask my leave to fight +again, Jack Harrison,” said his wife, as she looked +ruefully at his battered face. “Why, it’s worse +than when you beat Black Baruk; and if it weren’t for your +topcoat, I couldn’t swear you were the man who led me to +the altar! If the King of England ask you, I’ll never +let you do it more.”</p> +<p>“Well, old lass, I give my davy that I never will. +It’s best that I leave fightin’ before fightin’ +leaves me.” He screwed up his face as he took a sup +from Sir Charles’s brandy flask. “It’s +fine liquor, sir, but it gets into my cut lips most cruel. +Why, here’s John Cummings of the Friars’ Oak Inn, as +I’m a sinner, and seekin’ for a mad doctor, to judge +by the look of him!”</p> +<p>It was certainly a most singular figure who was approaching us +over the moor. With the flushed, dazed face of a man who is +just recovering from recent intoxication, the landlord was +tearing madly about, his hat gone, and his hair and beard flying +in the wind. He ran in little zigzags from one knot of +people to another, whilst his peculiar appearance drew a running +fire of witticisms as he went, so that he reminded me +irresistibly of a snipe skimming along through a line of +guns. We saw him stop for an instant by the yellow +barouche, and hand something to Sir Lothian Hume. Then on +he came again, until at last, catching sight of us, he gave a cry +of joy, and ran for us full speed with a note held out at +arm’s length.</p> +<p>“You’re a nice cove, too, John Cummings,” +said Harrison, reproachfully. “Didn’t I tell +you not to let a drop pass your lips until you had given your +message to Sir Charles?”</p> +<p>“I ought to be pole-axed, I ought,” he cried in +bitter repentance. “I asked for you, Sir Charles, as +I’m a livin’ man, I did, but you weren’t there, +and what with bein’ so pleased at gettin’ such odds +when I knew Harrison was goin’ to fight, an’ what +with the landlord at the George wantin’ me to try his own +specials, I let my senses go clean away from me. And now +it’s only after the fight is over that I see you, Sir +Charles, an’ if you lay that whip over my back, it’s +only what I deserve.”</p> +<p>But my uncle was paying no attention whatever to the voluble +self-reproaches of the landlord. He had opened the note, +and was reading it with a slight raising of the eyebrows, which +was almost the very highest note in his limited emotional +gamut.</p> +<p>“What make you of this, nephew?” he asked, handing +it to me.</p> +<p>This was what I read—</p> +<blockquote><p>“<span class="smcap">Sir Charles +Tregellis</span>,</p> +<p>“For God’s sake, come at once, when this reaches +you, to Cliffe Royal, and tarry as little as possible upon the +way. You will see me there, and you will hear much which +concerns you deeply. I pray you to come as soon as may be; +and until then I remain him whom you knew as</p> +<p style="text-align: right">“<span class="smcap">James +Harrison</span>.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>“Well, nephew?” asked my uncle.</p> +<p>“Why, sir, I cannot tell what it may mean.”</p> +<p>“Who gave it to you, sirrah?”</p> +<p>“It was young Jim Harrison himself, sir,” said the +landlord, “though indeed I scarce knew him at first, for he +looked like his own ghost. He was so eager that it should +reach you that he would not leave me until the horse was +harnessed and I started upon my way. There was one note for +you and one for Sir Lothian Hume, and I wish to God he had chosen +a better messenger!”</p> +<p>“This is a mystery indeed,” said my uncle, bending +his brows over the note. “What should he be doing at +that house of ill-omen? And why does he sign himself +‘him whom you knew as Jim Harrison?’ By what +other style should I know him? Harrison, you can throw a +light upon this. You, Mrs. Harrison; I see by your face +that you understand it.”</p> +<p>“Maybe we do, Sir Charles; but we are plain folk, my +Jack and I, and we go as far as we see our way, and when we +don’t see our way any longer, we just stop. +We’ve been goin’ this twenty year, but now +we’ll draw aside and let our betters get to the front; so +if you wish to find what that note means, I can only advise you +to do what you are asked, and to drive over to Cliffe Royal, +where you will find out.”</p> +<p>My uncle put the note into his pocket.</p> +<p>“I don’t move until I have seen you safely in the +hands of the surgeon, Harrison.”</p> +<p>“Never mind for me, sir. The missus and me can +drive down to Crawley in the gig, and a yard of stickin’ +plaster and a raw steak will soon set me to rights.”</p> +<p>But my uncle was by no means to be persuaded, and he drove the +pair into Crawley, where the smith was left under the charge of +his wife in the very best quarters which money could +procure. Then, after a hasty luncheon, we turned the +mares’ heads for the south.</p> +<p>“This ends my connection with the ring, nephew,” +said my uncle. “I perceive that there is no possible +means by which it can be kept pure from roguery. I have +been cheated and befooled; but a man learns wisdom at last, and +never again do I give countenance to a prize-fight.”</p> +<p>Had I been older or he less formidable, I might have said what +was in my heart, and begged him to give up other things +also—to come out from those shallow circles in which he +lived, and to find some work that was worthy of his strong brain +and his good heart. But the thought had hardly formed +itself in my mind before he had dropped his serious vein, and was +chatting away about some new silver-mounted harness which he +intended to spring upon the Mall, and about the match for a +thousand guineas which he meant to make between his filly +Ethelberta and Lord Doncaster’s famous three-year-old +Aurelius.</p> +<p>We had got as far as Whiteman’s Green, which is rather +more than midway between Crawley Down and Friars’ Oak, +when, looking backwards, I saw far down the road the gleam of the +sun upon a high yellow carriage. Sir Lothian Hume was +following us.</p> +<p>“He has had the same summons as we, and is bound for the +same destination,” said my uncle, glancing over his +shoulder at the distant barouche. “We are both wanted +at Cliffe Royal—we, the two survivors of that black +business. And it is Jim Harrison of all people who calls us +there. Nephew, I have had an eventful life, but I feel as +if the very strangest scene of it were waiting for me among those +trees.”</p> +<p>He whipped up the mares, and now from the curve of the road we +could see the high dark pinnacles of the old Manor-house shooting +up above the ancient oaks which ring it round. The sight of +it, with its bloodstained and ghost-blasted reputation, would in +itself have been enough to send a thrill through my nerves; but +when the words of my uncle made me suddenly realize that this +strange summons was indeed for the two men who were concerned in +that old-world tragedy, and that it was the playmate of my youth +who had sent it, I caught my breath as I seemed vaguely to catch +a glimpse of some portentous thing forming itself in front of +us. The rusted gates between the crumbling heraldic pillars +were folded back, and my uncle flicked the mares impatiently as +we flew up the weed-grown avenue, until he pulled them on their +haunches before the time-blotched steps. The front door was +open, and Boy Jim was waiting there to meet us.</p> +<p>But it was a different Boy Jim from him whom I had known and +loved. There was a change in him somewhere, a change so +marked that it was the first thing that I noticed, and yet so +subtle that I could not put words to it. He was not better +dressed than of old, for I well knew the old brown suit that he +wore.</p> +<p>He was not less comely, for his training had left him the very +model of what a man should be. And yet there was a change, +a touch of dignity in the expression, a suggestion of confidence +in the bearing which seemed, now that it was supplied, to be the +one thing which had been needed to give him harmony and +finish.</p> +<p>Somehow, in spite of his prowess, his old school name of +“Boy” had clung very naturally to him, until that +instant when I saw him standing in his self-contained and +magnificent manhood in the doorway of the ancient house. A +woman stood beside him, her hand resting upon his shoulder, and I +saw that it was Miss Hinton of Anstey Cross.</p> +<p>“You remember me, Sir Charles Tregellis,” said +she, coming forward, as we sprang down from the curricle.</p> +<p>My uncle looked hard at her with a puzzled face.</p> +<p>“I do not think that I have the privilege, madame. +And yet—”</p> +<p>“Polly Hinton, of the Haymarket. You surely cannot +have forgotten Polly Hinton.”</p> +<p>“Forgotten! Why, we have mourned for you in +Fops’ Alley for more years than I care to think of. +But what in the name of wonder—”</p> +<p>“I was privately married, and I retired from the +stage. I want you to forgive me for taking Jim away from +you last night.”</p> +<p>“It was you, then?”</p> +<p>“I had a stronger claim even than you could have. +You were his patron; I was his mother.” She drew his +head down to hers as she spoke, and there, with their cheeks +together, were the two faces, the one stamped with the waning +beauty of womanhood, the other with the waxing strength of man, +and yet so alike in the dark eyes, the blue-black hair and the +broad white brow, that I marvelled that I had never read her +secret on the first days that I had seen them together. +“Yes,” she cried, “he is my own boy, and he +saved me from what is worse than death, as your nephew Rodney +could tell you. Yet my lips were sealed, and it was only +last night that I could tell him that it was his mother whom he +had brought back by his gentleness and his patience into the +sweetness of life.”</p> +<p>“Hush, mother!” said Jim, turning his lips to her +cheek. “There are some things which are between +ourselves. But tell me, Sir Charles, how went the +fight?”</p> +<p>“Your uncle would have won it, but the roughs broke the +ring.”</p> +<p>“He is no uncle of mine, Sir Charles, but he has been +the best and truest friend, both to me and to my father, that +ever the world could offer. I only know one as true,” +he continued, taking me by the hand, “and dear old Rodney +Stone is his name. But I trust he was not much +hurt?”</p> +<p>“A week or two will set him right. But I cannot +pretend to understand how this matter stands, and you must allow +me to say that I have not heard you advance anything yet which +seems to me to justify you in abandoning your engagements at a +moment’s notice.”</p> +<p>“Come in, Sir Charles, and I am convinced that you will +acknowledge that I could not have done otherwise. But here, +if I mistake not, is Sir Lothian Hume.”</p> +<p>The yellow barouche had swung into the avenue, and a few +moments later the weary, panting horses had pulled up behind our +curricle. Sir Lothian sprang out, looking as black as a +thunder-cloud.</p> +<p>“Stay where you are, Corcoran,” said he; and I +caught a glimpse of a bottle-green coat which told me who was his +travelling companion. “Well,” he continued, +looking round him with an insolent stare, “I should vastly +like to know who has had the insolence to give me so pressing an +invitation to visit my own house, and what in the devil you mean +by daring to trespass upon my grounds?”</p> +<p>“I promise you that you will understand this and a good +deal more before we part, Sir Lothian,” said Jim, with a +curious smile playing over his face. “If you will +follow me, I will endeavour to make it all clear to +you.”</p> +<p>With his mother’s hand in his own, he led us into that +ill-omened room where the cards were still heaped upon the +sideboard, and the dark shadow lurked in the corner of the +ceiling.</p> +<p>“Now, sirrah, your explanation!” cried Sir +Lothian, standing with his arms folded by the door.</p> +<p>“My first explanations I owe to you, Sir Charles,” +said Jim; and as I listened to his voice and noted his manner, I +could not but admire the effect which the company of her whom he +now knew to be his mother had had upon a rude country lad. +“I wish to tell you what occurred last night.”</p> +<p>“I will tell it for you, Jim,” said his +mother. “You must know, Sir Charles, that though my +son knew nothing of his parents, we were both alive, and had +never lost sight of him. For my part, I let him have his +own way in going to London and in taking up this challenge. +It was only yesterday that it came to the ears of his father, who +would have none of it. He was in the weakest health, and +his wishes were not to be gainsayed. He ordered me to go at +once and to bring his son to his side. I was at my +wit’s end, for I was sure that Jim would never come unless +a substitute were provided for him. I went to the kind, +good couple who had brought him up, and I told them how matters +stood. Mrs. Harrison loved Jim as if he had been her own +son, and her husband loved mine, so they came to my help, and may +God bless them for their kindness to a distracted wife and +mother! Harrison would take Jim’s place if Jim would +go to his father. Then I drove to Crawley. I found +out which was Jim’s room, and I spoke to him through the +window, for I was sure that those who had backed him would not +let him go. I told him that I was his mother. I told +him who was his father. I said that I had my phaeton ready, +and that he might, for all I knew, be only in time to receive the +dying blessing of that parent whom he had never known. +Still the boy would not go until he had my assurance that +Harrison would take his place.”</p> +<p>“Why did he not leave a message with Belcher?”</p> +<p>“My head was in a whirl, Sir Charles. To find a +father and a mother, a new name and a new rank in a few minutes +might turn a stronger brain than ever mine was. My mother +begged me to come with her, and I went. The phaeton was +waiting, but we had scarcely started when some fellow seized the +horses’ heads, and a couple of ruffians attacked us. +One of them I beat over the head with the butt of the whip, so +that he dropped the cudgel with which he was about to strike me; +then lashing the horse, I shook off the others and got safely +away. I cannot imagine who they were or why they should +molest us.”</p> +<p>“Perhaps Sir Lothian Hume could tell you,” said my +uncle.</p> +<p>Our enemy said nothing; but his little grey eyes slid round +with a most murderous glance in our direction.</p> +<p>“After I had come here and seen my father I went +down—”</p> +<p>My uncle stopped him with a cry of astonishment.</p> +<p>“What did you say, young man? You came here and +you saw your father—here at Cliffe Royal?”</p> +<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> +<p>My uncle had turned very pale.</p> +<p>“In God’s name, then, tell us who your father +is!”</p> +<p>Jim made no answer save to point over our shoulders, and +glancing round, we became aware that two people had entered the +room through the door which led to the bedroom stair. The +one I recognized in an instant. That impassive, mask-like +face and demure manner could only belong to Ambrose, the former +valet of my uncle. The other was a very different and even +more singular figure. He was a tall man, clad in a dark +dressing-gown, and leaning heavily upon a stick. His long, +bloodless countenance was so thin and so white that it gave the +strangest illusion of transparency. Only within the folds +of a shroud have I ever seen so wan a face. The brindled +hair and the rounded back gave the impression of advanced age, +and it was only the dark brows and the bright alert eyes glancing +out from beneath them which made me doubt whether it was really +an old man who stood before us.</p> +<p>There was an instant of silence, broken by a deep oath from +Sir Lothian Hume—</p> +<p>“Lord Avon, by God!” he cried.</p> +<p>“Very much at your service, gentlemen,” answered +the strange figure in the dressing-gown.</p> +<h2><a name="page326"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +326</span>CHAPTER XX.<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">LORD AVON.</span></h2> +<p><span class="smcap">My</span> uncle was an impassive man by +nature and had become more so by the tradition of the society in +which he lived. He could have turned a card upon which his +fortune depended without the twitch of a muscle, and I had seen +him myself driving to imminent death on the Godstone Road with as +calm a face as if he were out for his daily airing in the +Mall. But now the shock which had come upon him was so +great that he could only stand with white cheeks and staring, +incredulous eyes. Twice I saw him open his lips, and twice +he put his hand up to his throat, as though a barrier had risen +betwixt himself and his utterance. Finally, he took a +sudden little run forward with both his hands thrown out in +greeting.</p> +<p>“Ned!” he cried.</p> +<p>But the strange man who stood before him folded his arms over +his breast.</p> +<p>“No Charles,” said he.</p> +<p>My uncle stopped and looked at him in amazement.</p> +<p>“Surely, Ned, you have a greeting for me after all these +years?”</p> +<p>“You believed me to have done this deed, Charles. +I read it in your eyes and in your manner on that terrible +morning. You never asked me for an explanation. You +never considered how impossible such a crime must be for a man of +my character. At the first breath of suspicion you, my +intimate friend, the man who knew me best, set me down as a thief +and a murderer.”</p> +<p>“No, no, Ned.”</p> +<p>“You did, Charles; I read it in your eyes. And so +it was that when I wished to leave that which was most precious +to me in safe hands I had to pass you over and to place him in +the charge of the one man who from the first never doubted my +innocence. Better a thousand times that my son should be +brought up in a humble station and in ignorance of his +unfortunate father, than that he should learn to share the doubts +and suspicions of his equals.”</p> +<p>“Then he is really your son!” cried my uncle, +staring at Jim in amazement.</p> +<p>For answer the man stretched out his long withered arm, and +placed a gaunt hand upon the shoulder of the actress, whilst she +looked up at him with love in her eyes.</p> +<p>“I married, Charles, and I kept it secret from my +friends, for I had chosen my wife outside our own circles. +You know the foolish pride which has always been the strongest +part of my nature. I could not bear to avow that which I +had done. It was this neglect upon my part which led to an +estrangement between us, and drove her into habits for which it +is I who am to blame and not she. Yet on account of these +same habits I took the child from her and gave her an allowance +on condition that she did not interfere with it. I had +feared that the boy might receive evil from her, and had never +dreamed in my blindness that she might get good from him. +But I have learned in my miserable life, Charles, that there is a +power which fashions things for us, though we may strive to +thwart it, and that we are in truth driven by an unseen current +towards a certain goal, however much we may deceive ourselves +into thinking that it is our own sails and oars which are +speeding us upon our way.”</p> +<p>My eyes had been upon the face of my uncle as he listened, but +now as I turned them from him they fell once more upon the thin, +wolfish face of Sir Lothian Hume. He stood near the window, +his grey silhouette thrown up against the square of dusty glass; +and I have never seen such a play of evil passions, of anger, of +jealousy, of disappointed greed upon a human face before.</p> +<p>“Am I to understand,” said he, in a loud, harsh +voice, “that this young man claims to be the heir of the +peerage of Avon?”</p> +<p>“He is my lawful son.”</p> +<p>“I knew you fairly well, sir, in our youth; but you will +allow me to observe that neither I nor any friend of yours ever +heard of a wife or a son. I defy Sir Charles Tregellis to +say that he ever dreamed that there was any heir except +myself.”</p> +<p>“I have already explained, Sir Lothian, why I kept my +marriage secret.”</p> +<p>“You have explained, sir; but it is for others in +another place to say if that explanation is +satisfactory.”</p> +<p>Two blazing dark eyes flashed out of the pale haggard face +with as strange and sudden an effect as if a stream of light were +to beat through the windows of a shattered and ruined house.</p> +<p>“You dare to doubt my word?”</p> +<p>“I demand a proof.”</p> +<p>“My word is proof to those who know me.”</p> +<p>“Excuse me, Lord Avon; but I know you, and I see no +reason why I should accept your statement.”</p> +<p>It was a brutal speech, and brutally delivered. Lord +Avon staggered forward, and it was only his son on one side and +his wife on the other who kept his quivering hands from the +throat of his insulter. Sir Lothian recoiled from the pale +fierce face with the black brows, but he still glared angrily +about the room.</p> +<p>“A very pretty conspiracy this,” he cried, +“with a criminal, an actress, and a prize-fighter all +playing their parts. Sir Charles Tregellis, you shall hear +from me again! And you also, my lord!” He +turned upon his heel and strode from the room.</p> +<p>“He has gone to denounce me,” said Lord Avon, a +spasm of wounded pride distorting his features.</p> +<p>“Shall I bring him back?” cried Boy Jim.</p> +<p>“No, no, let him go. It is as well, for I have +already made up my mind that my duty to you, my son, outweighs +that which I owe, and have at such bitter cost fulfilled, to my +brother and my family.”</p> +<p>“You did me an injustice, Ned,” said my uncle, +“if you thought that I had forgotten you, or that I had +judged you unkindly. If ever I have thought that you had +done this deed—and how could I doubt the evidence of my own +eyes—I have always believed that it was at a time when your +mind was unhinged, and when you knew no more of what you were +about than the man who is walking in his sleep.”</p> +<p>“What do you mean when you talk about the evidence of +your own eyes?” asked Lord Avon, looking hard at my +uncle.</p> +<p>“I saw you, Ned, upon that accursed night.”</p> +<p>“Saw me? Where?”</p> +<p>“In the passage.”</p> +<p>“And doing what?”</p> +<p>“You were coming from your brother’s room. I +had heard his voice raised in anger and pain only an instant +before. You carried in your hand a bag full of money, and +your face betrayed the utmost agitation. If you can but +explain to me, Ned, how you came to be there, you will take from +my heart a weight which has pressed upon it for all these +years.”</p> +<p>No one now would have recognized in my uncle the man who was +the leader of all the fops of London. In the presence of +this old friend and of the tragedy which girt him round, the veil +of triviality and affectation had been rent, and I felt all my +gratitude towards him deepening for the first time into affection +whilst I watched his pale, anxious face, and the eager hope which +shone in his eyes as he awaited his friend’s +explanation. Lord Avon sank his face in his hands, and for +a few moments there was silence in the dim grey room.</p> +<p>“I do not wonder now that you were shaken,” said +he at last. “My God, what a net was cast round +me! Had this vile charge been brought against me, you, my +dearest friend, would have been compelled to tear away the last +doubt as to my guilt. And yet, in spite of what you have +seen, Charles, I am as innocent in the matter as you +are.”</p> +<p>“I thank God that I hear you say so.”</p> +<p>“But you are not satisfied, Charles. I can read it +on your face. You wish to know why an innocent man should +conceal himself for all these years.”</p> +<p>“Your word is enough for me, Ned; but the world will +wish this other question answered also.”</p> +<p>“It was to save the family honour, Charles. You +know how dear it was to me. I could not clear myself +without proving my brother to have been guilty of the foulest +crime which a gentleman could commit. For eighteen years I +have screened him at the expense of everything which a man could +sacrifice. I have lived a living death which has left me an +old and shattered man when I am but in my fortieth year. +But now when I am faced with the alternative of telling the facts +about my brother, or of wronging my son, I can only act in one +fashion, and the more so since I have reason to hope that a way +may be found by which what I am now about to disclose to you need +never come to the public ear.”</p> +<p>He rose from his chair, and leaning heavily upon his two +supporters, he tottered across the room to the dust-covered +sideboard. There, in the centre of it, was lying that +ill-boding pile of time-stained, mildewed cards, just as Boy Jim +and I had seen them years before. Lord Avon turned them +over with trembling fingers, and then picking up half a dozen, he +brought them to my uncle.</p> +<p>“Place your finger and thumb upon the left-hand bottom +corner of this card, Charles,” said he. “Pass +them lightly backwards and forwards, and tell me what you +feel.”</p> +<p>“It has been pricked with a pin.”</p> +<p>“Precisely. What is the card?”</p> +<p>My uncle turned it over.</p> +<p>“It is the king of clubs.”</p> +<p>“Try the bottom corner of this one.”</p> +<p>“It is quite smooth.”</p> +<p>“And the card is?”</p> +<p>“The three of spades.”</p> +<p>“And this one?”</p> +<p>“It has been pricked. It is the ace of +hearts.” Lord Avon hurled them down upon the +floor.</p> +<p>“There you have the whole accursed story!” he +cried. “Need I go further where every word is an +agony?”</p> +<p>“I see something, but not all. You must continue, +Ned.”</p> +<p>The frail figure stiffened itself, as though he were visibly +bracing himself for an effort.</p> +<p>“I will tell it you, then, once and for ever. +Never again, I trust, will it be necessary for me to open my lips +about the miserable business. You remember our game. +You remember how we lost. You remember how you all retired, +and left me sitting in this very room, and at that very +table. Far from being tired, I was exceedingly wakeful, and +I remained here for an hour or more thinking over the incidents +of the game and the changes which it promised to bring about in +my fortunes. I had, as you will recollect, lost heavily, +and my only consolation was that my own brother had won. I +knew that, owing to his reckless mode of life, he was firmly in +the clutches of the Jews, and I hoped that that which had shaken +my position might have the effect of restoring his. As I +sat there, fingering the cards in an abstracted way, some chance +led me to observe the small needle-pricks which you have just +felt. I went over the packs, and found, to my unspeakable +horror, that any one who was in the secret could hold them in +dealing in such a way as to be able to count the exact number of +high cards which fell to each of his opponents. And then, +with such a flush of shame and disgust as I had never known, I +remembered how my attention had been drawn to my brother’s +mode of dealing, its slowness, and the way in which he held each +card by the lower corner.</p> +<p>“I did not condemn him precipitately. I sat for a +long time calling to mind every incident which could tell one way +or the other. Alas! it all went to confirm me in my first +horrible suspicion, and to turn it into a certainty. My +brother had ordered the packs from Ledbury’s, in Bond +Street. They had been for some hours in his chambers. +He had played throughout with a decision which had surprised us +at the time. Above all, I could not conceal from myself +that his past life was not such as to make even so abominable a +crime as this impossible to him. Tingling with anger and +shame, I went straight up that stair, the cards in my hand, and I +taxed him with this lowest and meanest of all the crimes to which +a villain could descend.</p> +<p>“He had not retired to rest, and his ill-gotten gains +were spread out upon the dressing-table. I hardly know what +I said to him, but the facts were so deadly that he did not +attempt to deny his guilt. You will remember, as the only +mitigation of his crime, that he was not yet one and twenty years +of age. My words overwhelmed him. He went on his +knees to me, imploring me to spare him. I told him that out +of consideration for our family I should make no public exposure +of him, but that he must never again in his life lay his hand +upon a card, and that the money which he had won must be returned +next morning with an explanation. It would be social ruin, +he protested. I answered that he must take the consequence +of his own deed. Then and there I burned the papers which +he had won from me, and I replaced in a canvas bag which lay upon +the table all the gold pieces. I would have left the room +without another word, but he clung to me, and tore the ruffle +from my wrist in his attempt to hold me back, and to prevail upon +me to promise to say nothing to you or Sir Lothian Hume. It +was his despairing cry, when he found that I was proof against +all his entreaties, which reached your ears, Charles, and caused +you to open your chamber door and to see me as I returned to my +room.”</p> +<p>My uncle drew a long sigh of relief.</p> +<p>“Nothing could be clearer!” he murmured.</p> +<p>“In the morning I came, as you remember, to your room, +and I returned your money. I did the same to Sir Lothian +Hume. I said nothing of my reasons for doing so, for I +found that I could not bring myself to confess our disgrace to +you. Then came the horrible discovery which has darkened my +life, and which was as great a mystery to me as it has been to +you. I saw that I was suspected, and I saw, also, that even +if I were to clear myself, it could only be done by a public +confession of the infamy of my brother. I shrank from it, +Charles. Any personal suffering seemed to me to be better +than to bring public shame upon a family which has held an +untarnished record through so many centuries. I fled from +my trial, therefore, and disappeared from the world.</p> +<p>“But, first of all, it was necessary that I should make +arrangements for the wife and the son, of whose existence you and +my other friends were ignorant. It is with shame, Mary, +that I confess it, and I acknowledge to you that the blame of all +the consequences rests with me rather than with you. At the +time there were reasons, now happily long gone past, which made +me determine that the son was better apart from the mother, whose +absence at that age he would not miss. I would have taken +you into my confidence, Charles, had it not been that your +suspicions had wounded me deeply—for I did not at that time +understand how strong the reasons were which had prejudiced you +against me.</p> +<p>“On the evening after the tragedy I fled to London, and +arranged that my wife should have a fitting allowance on +condition that she did not interfere with the child. I had, +as you remember, had much to do with Harrison, the prize-fighter, +and I had often had occasion to admire his simple and honest +nature. I took my boy to him now, and I found him, as I +expected, incredulous as to my guilt, and ready to assist me in +any way. At his wife’s entreaty he had just retired +from the ring, and was uncertain how he should employ +himself. I was able to fit him up as a smith, on condition +that he should ply his trade at the village of Friar’s +Oak. My agreement was that James was to be brought up as +their nephew, and that he should know nothing of his unhappy +parents.</p> +<p>“You will ask me why I selected Friar’s Oak. +It was because I had already chosen my place of concealment; and +if I could not see my boy, it was, at least, some consolation to +know that he was near me. You are aware that this mansion +is one of the oldest in England; but you are not aware that it +has been built with a very special eye to concealment, that there +are no less than two habitable secret chambers, and that the +outer or thicker walls are tunnelled into passages. The +existence of these rooms has always been a family secret, though +it was one which I valued so little that it was only the chance +of my seldom using the house which had prevented me from pointing +them out to some friend. Now I found that a secure retreat +was provided for me in my extremity. I stole down to my own +mansion, entered it at night, and, leaving all that was dear to +me behind, I crept like a rat behind the wainscot, to live out +the remainder of my weary life in solitude and misery. In +this worn face, Charles, and in this grizzled hair, you may read +the diary of my most miserable existence.</p> +<p>“Once a week Harrison used to bring me up provisions, +passing them through the pantry window, which I left open for the +purpose. Sometimes I would steal out at night and walk +under the stars once more, with the cool breeze upon my forehead; +but this I had at last to stop, for I was seen by the rustics, +and rumours of a spirit at Cliffe Royal began to get about. +One night two ghost-hunters—”</p> +<p>“It was I, father,” cried Boy Jim; “I and my +friend, Rodney Stone.”</p> +<p>“I know it was. Harrison told me so the same +night. I was proud, James, to see that you had the spirit +of the Barringtons, and that I had an heir whose gallantry might +redeem the family blot which I have striven so hard to cover +over. Then came the day when your mother’s +kindness—her mistaken kindness—gave you the means of +escaping to London.”</p> +<p>“Ah, Edward,” cried his wife, “if you had +seen our boy, like a caged eagle, beating against the bars, you +would have helped to give him even so short a flight as +this.”</p> +<p>“I do not blame you, Mary. It is possible that I +should have done so. He went to London, and he tried to +open a career for himself by his own strength and courage. +How many of our ancestors have done the same, save only that a +sword-hilt lay in their closed hands; but of them all I do not +know that any have carried themselves more gallantly!”</p> +<p>“That I dare swear,” said my uncle, heartily.</p> +<p>“And then, when Harrison at last returned, I learned +that my son was actually matched to fight in a public +prize-battle. That would not do, Charles! It was one +thing to fight as you and I have fought in our youth, and it was +another to compete for a purse of gold.”</p> +<p>“My dear friend, I would not for the +world—”</p> +<p>“Of course you would not, Charles. You chose the +best man, and how could you do otherwise? But it would not +do! I determined that the time had come when I should +reveal myself to my son, the more so as there were many signs +that my most unnatural existence had seriously weakened my +health. Chance, or shall I not rather say Providence, had +at last made clear all that had been dark, and given me the means +of establishing my innocence. My wife went yesterday to +bring my boy at last to the side of his unfortunate +father.”</p> +<p>There was silence for some time, and then it was my +uncle’s voice which broke it.</p> +<p>“You’ve been the most ill-used man in the world, +Ned,” said he. “Please God we shall have many +years yet in which to make up to you for it. But, after +all, it seems to me that we are as far as ever from learning how +your unfortunate brother met his death.”</p> +<p>“For eighteen years it was as much a mystery to me as to +you, Charles. But now at last the guilt is manifest. +Stand forward, Ambrose, and tell your story as frankly and as +fully as you have told it to me.”</p> +<h2><a name="page340"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +340</span>CHAPTER XXI.<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">THE VALET’S STORY.</span></h2> +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> valet had shrunk into the dark +corner of the room, and had remained so motionless that we had +forgotten his presence until, upon this appeal from his former +master, he took a step forward into the light, turning his sallow +face in our direction. His usually impassive features were +in a state of painful agitation, and he spoke slowly and with +hesitation, as though his trembling lips could hardly frame the +words. And yet, so strong is habit, that, even in this +extremity of emotion he assumed the deferential air of the +high-class valet, and his sentences formed themselves in the +sonorous fashion which had struck my attention upon that first +day when the curricle of my uncle had stopped outside my +father’s door.</p> +<p>“My Lady Avon and gentlemen,” said he, “if I +have sinned in this matter, and I freely confess that I have done +so, I only know one way in which I can atone for it, and that is +by making the full and complete confession which my noble master, +Lord Avon, has demanded. I assure you, then, that what I am +about to tell you, surprising as it may seem, is the absolute and +undeniable truth concerning the mysterious death of Captain +Barrington.</p> +<p>“It may seem impossible to you that one in my humble +walk of life should bear a deadly and implacable hatred against a +man in the position of Captain Barrington. You think that +the gulf between is too wide. I can tell you, gentlemen, +that the gulf which can be bridged by unlawful love can be +spanned also by an unlawful hatred, and that upon the day when +this young man stole from me all that made my life worth living, +I vowed to Heaven that I should take from him that foul life of +his, though the deed would cover but the tiniest fraction of the +debt which he owed me. I see that you look askance at me, +Sir Charles Tregellis, but you should pray to God, sir, that you +may never have the chance of finding out what you would yourself +be capable of in the same position.”</p> +<p>It was a wonder to all of us to see this man’s fiery +nature breaking suddenly through the artificial constraints with +which he held it in check. His short dark hair seemed to +bristle upwards, his eyes glowed with the intensity of his +passion, and his face expressed a malignity of hatred which +neither the death of his enemy nor the lapse of years could +mitigate. The demure servant was gone, and there stood in +his place a deep and dangerous man, one who might be an ardent +lover or a most vindictive foe.</p> +<p>“We were about to be married, she and I, when some black +chance threw him across our path. I do not know by what +base deceptions he lured her away from me. I have heard +that she was only one of many, and that he was an adept at the +art. It was done before ever I knew the danger, and she was +left with her broken heart and her ruined life to return to that +home into which she had brought disgrace and misery. I only +saw her once. She told me that her seducer had burst out +a-laughing when she had reproached him for his perfidy, and I +swore to her that his heart’s blood should pay me for that +laugh.</p> +<p>“I was a valet at the time, but I was not yet in the +service of Lord Avon. I applied for and gained that +position with the one idea that it might give me an opportunity +of settling my accounts with his younger brother. And yet +my chance was a terribly long time coming, for many months had +passed before the visit to Cliffe Royal gave me the opportunity +which I longed for by day and dreamed of by night. When it +did come, however, it came in a fashion which was more favourable +to my plans than anything that I had ever ventured to hope +for.</p> +<p>“Lord Avon was of opinion that no one but himself knew +of the secret passages in Cliffe Royal. In this he was +mistaken. I knew of them—or, at least, I knew enough +of them to serve my purpose. I need not tell you how, one +day, when preparing the chambers for the guests, an accidental +pressure upon part of the fittings caused a panel to gape in the +woodwork, and showed me a narrow opening in the wall. +Making my way down this, I found that another panel led into a +larger bedroom beyond. That was all I knew, but it was all +that was needed for my purpose. The disposal of the rooms +had been left in my hands, and I arranged that Captain Barrington +should sleep in the larger and I in the smaller. I could +come upon him when I wished, and no one would be the wiser.</p> +<p>“And then he arrived. How can I describe to you +the fever of impatience in which I lived until the moment should +come for which I had waited and planned. For a night and a +day they gambled, and for a night and a day I counted the minutes +which brought me nearer to my man. They might ring for +fresh wine at what hour they liked, they always found me waiting +and ready, so that this young captain hiccoughed out that I was +the model of all valets. My master advised me to go to +bed. He had noticed my flushed cheek and my bright eyes, +and he set me down as being in a fever. So I was, but it +was a fever which only one medicine could assuage.</p> +<p>“Then at last, very early in the morning, I heard them +push back their chairs, and I knew that their game had at last +come to an end. When I entered the room to receive my +orders, I found that Captain Barrington had already stumbled off +to bed. The others had also retired, and my master was +sitting alone at the table, with his empty bottle and the +scattered cards in front of him. He ordered me angrily to +my room, and this time I obeyed him.</p> +<p>“My first care was to provide myself with a +weapon. I knew that if I were face to face with him I could +tear his throat out, but I must so arrange that the fashion of +his death should be a noiseless one. There was a hunting +trophy in the hall, and from it I took a straight heavy knife +which I sharpened upon my boot. Then I stole to my room, +and sat waiting upon the side of my bed. I had made up my +mind what I should do. There would be little satisfaction +in killing him if he was not to know whose hand had struck the +blow, or which of his sins it came to avenge. Could I but +bind him and gag him in his drunken sleep, then a prick or two of +my dagger would arouse him to listen to what I had to say to +him. I pictured the look in his eyes as the haze of sleep +cleared slowly away from them, the look of anger turning suddenly +to stark horror as he understood who I was and what I had come +for. It would be the supreme moment of my life.</p> +<p>“I waited as it seemed to me for at least an hour; but I +had no watch, and my impatience was such that I dare say it +really was little more than a quarter of that time. Then I +rose, removed my shoes, took my knife, and having opened the +panel, slipped silently through. It was not more than +thirty feet that I had to go, but I went inch by inch, for the +old rotten boards snapped like breaking twigs if a sudden weight +was placed upon them. It was, of course, pitch dark, and +very, very slowly I felt my way along. At last I saw a +yellow seam of light glimmering in front of me, and I knew that +it came from the other panel. I was too soon, then, since +he had not extinguished his candles. I had waited many +months, and I could afford to wait another hour, for I did not +wish to do anything precipitately or in a hurry.</p> +<p>“It was very necessary to move silently now, since I was +within a few feet of my man, with only the thin wooden partition +between. Age had warped and cracked the boards, so that +when I had at last very stealthily crept my way as far as the +sliding-panel, I found that I could, without any difficulty, see +into the room. Captain Barrington was standing by the +dressing-table with his coat and vest off. A large pile of +sovereigns, and several slips of paper were lying before him, and +he was counting over his gambling gains. His face was +flushed, and he was heavy from want of sleep and from wine. +It rejoiced me to see it, for it meant that his slumber would be +deep, and that all would be made easy for me.</p> +<p>“I was still watching him, when of a sudden I saw him +start, and a terrible expression come upon his face. For an +instant my heart stood still, for I feared that he had in some +way divined my presence. And then I heard the voice of my +master within. I could not see the door by which he had +entered, nor could I see him where he stood, but I heard all that +he had to say. As I watched the captain’s face flush +fiery-red, and then turn to a livid white as he listened to those +bitter words which told him of his infamy, my revenge was +sweeter—far sweeter—than my most pleasant dreams had +ever pictured it. I saw my master approach the +dressing-table, hold the papers in the flame of the candle, throw +their charred ashes into the grate, and sweep the golden pieces +into a small brown canvas bag. Then, as he turned to leave +the room, the captain seized him by the wrist, imploring him, by +the memory of their mother, to have mercy upon him; and I loved +my master as I saw him drag his sleeve from the grasp of the +clutching fingers, and leave the stricken wretch grovelling upon +the floor.</p> +<p>“And now I was left with a difficult point to settle, +for it was hard for me to say whether it was better that I should +do that which I had come for, or whether, by holding this +man’s guilty secret, I might not have in my hand a keener +and more deadly weapon than my master’s +hunting-knife. I was sure that Lord Avon could not and +would not expose him. I knew your sense of family pride too +well, my lord, and I was certain that his secret was safe in your +hands. But I both could and would; and then, when his life +had been blasted, and he had been hounded from his regiment and +from his clubs, it would be time, perhaps, for me to deal in some +other way with him.”</p> +<p>“Ambrose, you are a black villain,” said my +uncle.</p> +<p>“We all have our own feelings, Sir Charles; and you will +permit me to say that a serving-man may resent an injury as much +as a gentleman, though the redress of the duel is denied to +him. But I am telling you frankly, at Lord Avon’s +request, all that I thought and did upon that night, and I shall +continue to do so, even if I am not fortunate enough to win your +approval.</p> +<p>“When Lord Avon had left him, the captain remained for +some time in a kneeling attitude, with his face sunk upon a +chair. Then he rose, and paced slowly up and down the room, +his chin sunk upon his breast. Every now and then he would +pluck at his hair, or shake his clenched hands in the air; and I +saw the moisture glisten upon his brow. For a time I lost +sight of him, and I heard him opening drawer after drawer, as +though he were in search of something. Then he stood over +by his dressing-table again, with his back turned to me. +His head was thrown a little back, and he had both hands up to +the collar of his shirt, as though he were striving to undo +it. And then there was a gush as if a ewer had been upset, +and down he sank upon the ground, with his head in the corner, +twisted round at so strange an angle to his shoulders that one +glimpse of it told me that my man was slipping swiftly from the +clutch in which I had fancied that I held him. I slid my +panel, and was in the room in an instant. His eyelids still +quivered, and it seemed to me, as my gaze met his glazing eyes, +that I could read both recognition and surprise in them. I +laid my knife upon the floor, and I stretched myself out beside +him, that I might whisper in his ear one or two little things of +which I wished to remind him; but even as I did so, he gave a +gasp and was gone.</p> +<p>“It is singular that I, who had never feared him in +life, should be frightened at him now, and yet when I looked at +him, and saw that all was motionless save the creeping stain upon +the carpet, I was seized with a sudden foolish spasm of terror, +and, catching up my knife, I fled swiftly and silently back to my +own room, closing the panels behind me. It was only when I +had reached it that I found that in my mad haste I had carried +away, not the hunting-knife which I had taken with me, but the +bloody razor which had dropped from the dead man’s +hand. This I concealed where no one has ever discovered it; +but my fears would not allow me to go back for the other, as I +might perhaps have done, had I foreseen how terribly its presence +might tell against my master. And that, Lady Avon and +gentlemen, is an exact and honest account of how Captain +Barrington came by his end.”</p> +<p>“And how was it,” asked my uncle, angrily, +“that you have allowed an innocent man to be persecuted all +these years, when a word from you might have saved +him?”</p> +<p>“Because I had every reason to believe, Sir Charles, +that that would be most unwelcome to Lord Avon. How could I +tell all this without revealing the family scandal which he was +so anxious to conceal? I confess that at the beginning I +did not tell him what I had seen, and my excuse must be that he +disappeared before I had time to determine what I should +do. For many a year, however—ever since I have been +in your service, Sir Charles—my conscience tormented me, +and I swore that if ever I should find my old master, I should +reveal everything to him. The chance of my overhearing a +story told by young Mr. Stone here, which showed me that some one +was using the secret chambers of Cliffe Royal, convinced me that +Lord Avon was in hiding there, and I lost no time in seeking him +out and offering to do him all the justice in my +power.”</p> +<p>“What he says is true,” said his master; +“but it would have been strange indeed if I had hesitated +to sacrifice a frail life and failing health in a cause for which +I freely surrendered all that youth had to offer. But new +considerations have at last compelled me to alter my +resolution. My son, through ignorance of his true position, +was drifting into a course of life which accorded with his +strength and spirit, but not with the traditions of his +house. Again, I reflected that many of those who knew my +brother had passed away, that all the facts need not come out, +and that my death whilst under the suspicion of such a crime +would cast a deeper stain upon our name than the sin which he had +so terribly expiated. For these reasons—”</p> +<p>The tramp of several heavy footsteps reverberating through the +old house broke in suddenly upon Lord Avon’s words. +His wan face turned even a shade greyer as he heard it, and he +looked piteously to his wife and son.</p> +<p>“They will arrest me!” he cried. “I +must submit to the degradation of an arrest.”</p> +<p>“This way, Sir James; this way,” said the harsh +tones of Sir Lothian Hume from without.</p> +<p>“I do not need to be shown the way in a house where I +have drunk many a bottle of good claret,” cried a deep +voice in reply; and there in the doorway stood the broad figure +of Squire Ovington in his buckskins and top-boots, a riding-crop +in his hand. Sir Lothian Hume was at his elbow, and I saw +the faces of two country constables peeping over his +shoulders.</p> +<p>“Lord Avon,” said the squire, “as a +magistrate of the county of Sussex, it is my duty to tell you +that a warrant is held against you for the wilful murder of your +brother, Captain Barrington, in the year 1786.”</p> +<p>“I am ready to answer the charge.”</p> +<p>“This I tell you as a magistrate. But as a man, +and the Squire of Rougham Grange, I’m right glad to see +you, Ned, and here’s my hand on it, and never will I +believe that a good Tory like yourself, and a man who could show +his horse’s tail to any field in the whole Down county, +would ever be capable of so vile an act.”</p> +<p>“You do me justice, James,” said Lord Avon, +clasping the broad, brown hand which the country squire had held +out to him. “I am as innocent as you are; and I can +prove it.”</p> +<p>“Damned glad I am to hear it, Ned! That is to say, +Lord Avon, that any defence which you may have to make will be +decided upon by your peers and by the laws of your +country.”</p> +<p>“Until which time,” added Sir Lothian Hume, +“a stout door and a good lock will be the best guarantee +that Lord Avon will be there when called for.”</p> +<p>The squire’s weather-stained face flushed to a deeper +red as he turned upon the Londoner.</p> +<p>“Are you the magistrate of a county, sir?”</p> +<p>“I have not the honour, Sir James.”</p> +<p>“Then how dare you advise a man who has sat on the bench +for nigh twenty years! When I am in doubt, sir, the law +provides me with a clerk with whom I may confer, and I ask no +other assistance.”</p> +<p>“You take too high a tone in this matter, Sir +James. I am not accustomed to be taken to task so +sharply.”</p> +<p>“Nor am I accustomed, sir, to be interfered with in my +official duties. I speak as a magistrate, Sir Lothian, but +I am always ready to sustain my opinions as a man.”</p> +<p>Sir Lothian bowed.</p> +<p>“You will allow me to observe, sir, that I have personal +interests of the highest importance involved in this matter, I +have every reason to believe that there is a conspiracy afoot +which will affect my position as heir to Lord Avon’s titles +and estates. I desire his safe custody in order that this +matter may be cleared up, and I call upon you, as a magistrate, +to execute your warrant.”</p> +<p>“Plague take it, Ned!” cried the squire, “I +would that my clerk Johnson were here, for I would deal as kindly +by you as the law allows; and yet I am, as you hear, called upon +to secure your person.”</p> +<p>“Permit me to suggest, sir,” said my uncle, +“that so long as he is under the personal supervision of +the magistrate, he may be said to be under the care of the law, +and that this condition will be fulfilled if he is under the roof +of Rougham Grange.”</p> +<p>“Nothing could be better,” cried the squire, +heartily. “You will stay with me, Ned, until this +matter blows over. In other words, Lord Avon, I make myself +responsible, as the representative of the law, that you are held +in safe custody until your person may be required of +me.”</p> +<p>“Yours is a true heart, James.”</p> +<p>“Tut, tut! it is the due process of the law. I +trust, Sir Lothian Hume, that you find nothing to object to in +it?”</p> +<p>Sir Lothian shrugged his shoulders, and looked blackly at the +magistrate. Then he turned to my uncle.</p> +<p>“There is a small matter still open between us,” +said he. “Would you kindly give me the name of a +friend? Mr. Corcoran, who is outside in my barouche, would +act for me, and we might meet to-morrow morning.”</p> +<p>“With pleasure,” answered my uncle. “I +dare say your father would act for me, nephew? Your friend +may call upon Lieutenant Stone, of Friar’s Oak, and the +sooner the better.”</p> +<p>And so this strange conference ended. As for me, I had +sprung to the side of the old friend of my boyhood, and was +trying to tell him my joy at his good fortune, and listening to +his assurance that nothing that could ever befall him could +weaken the love that he bore me. My uncle touched me on the +shoulder, and we were about to leave, when Ambrose, whose bronze +mask had been drawn down once more over his fiery passions, came +demurely towards him.</p> +<p>“Beg your pardon, Sir Charles,” said he; +“but it shocks me very much to see your cravat.”</p> +<p>“You are right, Ambrose,” my uncle answered. +“Lorimer does his best, but I have never been able to fill +your place.”</p> +<p>“I should be proud to serve you, sir; but you must +acknowledge that Lord Avon has the prior claim. If he will +release me—”</p> +<p>“You may go, Ambrose; you may go!” cried Lord +Avon. “You are an excellent servant, but your +presence has become painful to me.”</p> +<p>“Thank you, Ned,” said my uncle. “But +you must not leave me so suddenly again, Ambrose.”</p> +<p>“Permit me to explain the reason, sir. I had +determined to give you notice when we reached Brighton; but as we +drove from the village that day, I caught a glimpse of a lady +passing in a phaeton between whom and Lord Avon I was well aware +there was a close intimacy, although I was not certain that she +was actually his wife. Her presence there confirmed me in +my opinion that he was in hiding at Cliffe Royal, and I dropped +from your curricle and followed her at once, in order to lay the +matter before her, and explain how very necessary it was that +Lord Avon should see me.”</p> +<p>“Well, I forgive you for your desertion, Ambrose,” +said my uncle; “and,” he added, “I should be +vastly obliged to you if you would re-arrange my tie.”</p> +<h2><a name="page355"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +355</span>CHAPTER XXII.<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">THE END.</span></h2> +<p><span class="smcap">Sir James Ovington’s</span> carriage +was waiting without, and in it the Avon family, so tragically +separated and so strangely re-united, were borne away to the +squire’s hospitable home. When they had gone, my +uncle mounted his curricle, and drove Ambrose and myself to the +village.</p> +<p>“We had best see your father at once, nephew,” +said he. “Sir Lothian and his man started some time +ago. I should be sorry if there should be any hitch in our +meeting.”</p> +<p>For my part, I was thinking of our opponent’s deadly +reputation as a duellist, and I suppose that my features must +have betrayed my feelings, for my uncle began to laugh.</p> +<p>“Why, nephew,” said he, “you look as if you +were walking behind my coffin. It is not my first affair, +and I dare bet that it will not be my last. When I fight +near town I usually fire a hundred or so in Manton’s back +shop, but I dare say I can find my way to his waistcoat. +But I confess that I am somewhat <i>accablé</i>, by all +that has befallen us. To think of my dear old friend being +not only alive, but innocent as well! And that he should +have such a strapping son and heir to carry on the race of +Avon! This will be the last blow to Hume, for I know that +the Jews have given him rope on the score of his +expectations. And you, Ambrose, that you should break out +in such a way!”</p> +<p>Of all the amazing things which had happened, this seemed to +have impressed my uncle most, and he recurred to it again and +again. That a man whom he had come to regard as a machine +for tying cravats and brewing chocolate should suddenly develop +fiery human passions was indeed a prodigy. If his silver +razor-heater had taken to evil ways he could not have been more +astounded.</p> +<p>We were still a hundred yards from the cottage when I saw the +tall, green-coated Mr. Corcoran striding down the garden +path. My father was waiting for us at the door with an +expression of subdued delight upon his face.</p> +<p>“Happy to serve you in any way, Sir Charles,” said +he. “We’ve arranged it for to-morrow at seven +on Ditching Common.”</p> +<p>“I wish these things could be brought off a little later +in the day,” said my uncle. “One has either to +rise at a perfectly absurd hour, or else to neglect one’s +toilet.”</p> +<p>“They are stopping across the road at the Friar’s +Oak inn, and if you would wish it later—”</p> +<p>“No, no; I shall make the effort. Ambrose, you +will bring up the <i>batteris de toilette</i> at five.”</p> +<p>“I don’t know whether you would care to use my +barkers,” said my father. “I’ve had +’em in fourteen actions, and up to thirty yards you +couldn’t wish a better tool.”</p> +<p>“Thank you, I have my duelling pistols under the +seat. See that the triggers are oiled, Ambrose, for I love +a light pull. Ah, sister Mary, I have brought your boy back +to you, none the worse, I hope, for the dissipations of +town.”</p> +<p>I need not tell you how my dear mother wept over me and +fondled me, for you who have mothers will know for yourselves, +and you who have not will never understand how warm and snug the +home nest can be. How I had chafed and longed for the +wonders of town, and yet, now that I had seen more than my +wildest dreams had ever deemed possible, my eyes had rested upon +nothing which was so sweet and so restful as our own little +sitting-room, with its terra-cotta-coloured walls, and those +trifles which are so insignificant in themselves, and yet so rich +in memories—the blow-fish from the Moluccas, the +narwhal’s horn from the Arctic, and the picture of the +<i>Ca Ira</i>, with Lord Hotham in chase! How cheery, too, +to see at one side of the shining grate my father with his pipe +and his merry red face, and on the other my mother with her +fingers ever turning and darting with her knitting-needles! +As I looked at them I marvelled that I could ever have longed to +leave them, or that I could bring myself to leave them again.</p> +<p>But leave them I must, and that speedily, as I learned amidst +the boisterous congratulations of my father and the tears of my +mother. He had himself been appointed to the <i>Cato</i>, +64, with post rank, whilst a note had come from Lord Nelson at +Portsmouth to say that a vacancy was open for me if I should +present myself at once.</p> +<p>“And your mother has your sea-chest all ready, my lad, +and you can travel down with me to-morrow; for if you are to be +one of Nelson’s men, you must show him that you are worthy +of it.”</p> +<p>“All the Stones have been in the sea-service,” +said my mother, apologetically to my uncle, “and it is a +great chance that he should enter under Lord Nelson’s own +patronage. But we can never forget your kindness, Charles, +in showing our dear Rodney something of the world.”</p> +<p>“On the contrary, sister Mary,” said my uncle, +graciously, “your son has been an excellent companion to +me—so much so that I fear that I am open to the charge of +having neglected my dear Fidelio. I trust that I bring him +back somewhat more polished than I found him. It would be +folly to call him <i>distingué</i>, but he is at least +unobjectionable. Nature has denied him the highest gifts, +and I find him adverse to employing the compensating advantages +of art; but, at least, I have shown him something of life, and I +have taught him a few lessons in finesse and deportment which may +appear to be wasted upon him at present, but which, none the +less, may come back to him in his more mature years. If his +career in town has been a disappointment to me, the reason lies +mainly in the fact that I am foolish enough to measure others by +the standard which I have myself set. I am well disposed +towards him, however, and I consider him eminently adapted for +the profession which he is about to adopt.”</p> +<p>He held out his sacred snuff-box to me as he spoke, as a +solemn pledge of his goodwill, and, as I look back at him, there +is no moment at which I see him more plainly than that with the +old mischievous light dancing once more in his large intolerant +eyes, one thumb in the armpit of his vest, and the little shining +box held out upon his snow-white palm. He was a type and +leader of a strange breed of men which has vanished away from +England—the full-blooded, virile buck, exquisite in his +dress, narrow in his thoughts, coarse in his amusements, and +eccentric in his habits. They walk across the bright stage +of English history with their finicky step, their preposterous +cravats, their high collars, their dangling seals, and they +vanish into those dark wings from which there is no return. +The world has outgrown them, and there is no place now for their +strange fashions, their practical jokes, and carefully cultivated +eccentricities. And yet behind this outer veiling of folly, +with which they so carefully draped themselves, they were often +men of strong character and robust personality. The languid +loungers of St. James’s were also the yachtsmen of the +Solent, the fine riders of the shires, and the hardy fighters in +many a wayside battle and many a morning frolic. Wellington +picked his best officers from amongst them. They +condescended occasionally to poetry or oratory; and Byron, +Charles James Fox, Sheridan, and Castlereagh, preserved some +reputation amongst them, in spite of their publicity. I +cannot think how the historian of the future can hope to +understand them, when I, who knew one of them so well, and bore +his blood in my veins, could never quite tell how much of him was +real, and how much was due to the affectations which he had +cultivated so long that they had ceased to deserve the +name. Through the chinks of that armour of folly I have +sometimes thought that I had caught a glimpse of a good and true +man within, and it pleases me to hope that I was right.</p> +<p>It was destined that the exciting incidents of that day were +even now not at an end. I had retired early to rest, but it +was impossible for me to sleep, for my mind would turn to Boy Jim +and to the extraordinary change in his position and +prospects. I was still turning and tossing when I heard the +sound of flying hoofs coming down the London Road, and +immediately afterwards the grating of wheels as they pulled up in +front of the inn. My window chanced to be open, for it was +a fresh spring night, and I heard the creak of the inn door, and +a voice asking whether Sir Lothian Hume was within. At the +name I sprang from my bed, and I was in time to see three men, +who had alighted from the carriage, file into the lighted +hall. The two horses were left standing, with the glare of +the open door falling upon their brown shoulders and patient +heads.</p> +<p>Ten minutes may have passed, and then I heard the clatter of +many steps, and a knot of men came clustering through the +door.</p> +<p>“You need not employ violence,” said a harsh, +clear voice. “On whose suit is it?”</p> +<p>“Several suits, sir. They ’eld over in the +’opes that you’d pull off the fight this +mornin’. Total amounts is twelve thousand +pound.”</p> +<p>“Look here, my man, I have a very important appointment +for seven o’clock to-morrow. I’ll give you +fifty pounds if you will leave me until then.”</p> +<p>“Couldn’t do it, sir, really. It’s +more than our places as sheriff’s officers is +worth.”</p> +<p>In the yellow glare of the carriage-lamp I saw the baronet +look up at our windows, and if hatred could have killed, his eyes +would have been as deadly as his pistol.</p> +<p>“I can’t mount the carriage unless you free my +hands,” said he.</p> +<p>“’Old ’ard, Bill, for ’e looks +vicious. Let go o’ one arm at a time! Ah, would +you then?”</p> +<p>“Corcoran! Corcoran!” screamed a voice, and +I saw a plunge, a struggle, and one frantic figure breaking its +way from the rest. Then came a heavy blow, and down he fell +in the middle of the moonlit road, flapping and jumping among the +dust like a trout new landed.</p> +<p>“He’s napped it this time! Get ’im by +the wrists, Jim! Now, all together!”</p> +<p>He was hoisted up like a bag of flour, and fell with a brutal +thud into the bottom of the carriage. The three men sprang +in after him, a whip whistled in the darkness, and I had seen the +last that I or any one else, save some charitable visitor to a +debtors’ gaol, was ever again destined to see of Sir +Lothian Hume, the once fashionable Corinthian.</p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p>Lord Avon lived for two years longer—long enough, with +the help of Ambrose, to fully establish his innocence of the +horrible crime, in the shadow of which he had lived so +long. What he could not clear away, however, was the effect +of those years of morbid and unnatural life spent in the hidden +chambers of the old house; and it was only the devotion of his +wife and of his son which kept the thin and flickering flame of +his life alight. She whom I had known as the play actress +of Anstey Cross became the dowager Lady Avon; whilst Boy Jim, as +dear to me now as when we harried birds’ nests and tickled +trout together, is now Lord Avon, beloved by his tenantry, the +finest sportsman and the most popular man from the north of the +Weald to the Channel. He was married to the second daughter +of Sir James Ovington; and as I have seen three of his +grandchildren within the week, I fancy that if any of Sir +Lothian’s descendants have their eye upon the property, +they are likely to be as disappointed as their ancestor was +before them. The old house of Cliffe Royal has been pulled +down, owing to the terrible family associations which hung round +it, and a beautiful modern building sprang up in its place. +The lodge which stood by the Brighton Road was so dainty with its +trellis-work and its rose bushes that I was not the only visitor +who declared that I had rather be the owner of it than of the +great house amongst the trees. There for many years in a +happy and peaceful old age lived Jack Harrison and his wife, +receiving back in the sunset of their lives the loving care which +they had themselves bestowed. Never again did Champion +Harrison throw his leg over the ropes of a twenty-four-foot ring; +but the story of the great battle between the smith and the West +Countryman is still familiar to old ring-goers, and nothing +pleased him better than to re-fight it all, round by round, as he +sat in the sunshine under his rose-girt porch. But if he +heard the tap of his wife’s stick approaching him, his talk +would break off at once into the garden and its prospects, for +she was still haunted by the fear that he would some day go back +to the ring, and she never missed the old man for an hour without +being convinced that he had hobbled off to wrest the belt from +the latest upstart champion. It was at his own very earnest +request that they inscribed “He fought the good +fight” upon his tombstone, and though I cannot doubt that +he had Black Bank and Crab Wilson in his mind when he asked it, +yet none who knew him would grudge its spiritual meaning as a +summing up of his clean and manly life.</p> +<p>Sir Charles Tregellis continued for some years to show his +scarlet and gold at Newmarket, and his inimitable coats in St. +James’s. It was he who invented buttons and loops at +the ends of dress pantaloons, and who broke fresh ground by his +investigation of the comparative merits of isinglass and of +starch in the preparation of shirt-fronts. There are old +fops still lurking in the corners of Arthur’s or of +White’s who can remember Tregellis’s dictum, that a +cravat should be so stiffened that three parts of the length +could be raised by one corner, and the painful schism which +followed when Lord Alvanley and his school contended that a half +was sufficient. Then came the supremacy of Brummell, and +the open breach upon the subject of velvet collars, in which the +town followed the lead of the younger man. My uncle, who +was not born to be second to any one, retired instantly to St. +Albans, and announced that he would make it the centre of fashion +and of society, instead of degenerate London. It chanced, +however, that the mayor and corporation waited upon him with an +address of thanks for his good intentions towards the town, and +that the burgesses, having ordered new coats from London for the +occasion, were all arrayed in velvet collars, which so preyed +upon my uncle’s spirits that he took to his bed, and never +showed his face in public again. His money, which had +ruined what might have been a great life, was divided amongst +many bequests, an annuity to his valet, Ambrose, being amongst +them; but enough has come to his sister, my dear mother, to help +to make her old age as sunny and as pleasant as even I could +wish.</p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p>And as for me—the poor string upon which these beads are +strung—I dare scarce say another word about myself, lest +this, which I had meant to be the last word of a chapter, should +grow into the first words of a new one. Had I not taken up +my pen to tell you a story of the land, I might, perchance, have +made a better one of the sea; but the one frame cannot hold two +opposite pictures. The day may come when I shall write down +all that I remember of the greatest battle ever fought upon salt +water, and how my father’s gallant life was brought to an +end as, with his paint rubbing against a French eighty-gun ship +on one side and a Spanish seventy-four upon the other he stood +eating an apple in the break of his poop. I saw the smoke +banks on that October evening swirl slowly up over the Atlantic +swell, and rise, and rise, until they had shredded into thinnest +air, and lost themselves in the infinite blue of heaven. +And with them rose the cloud which had hung over the country; and +it also thinned and thinned, until God’s own sun of peace +and security was shining once more upon us, never more, we hope, +to be bedimmed.</p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p style="text-align: center"><b>THE END.</b></p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="GutSmall">PRINTED BY +GARDEN CITY PRESS, LETCHWORTH, ENGLAND.</span></p> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RODNEY STONE***</p> +<pre> + + +***** This file should be named 5148-h.htm or 5148-h.zip****** + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/5/1/4/5148 + + + +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. 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