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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 05:27:33 -0700 |
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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 05:27:33 -0700 |
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diff --git a/6437-h/6437-h.htm b/6437-h/6437-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..987260c --- /dev/null +++ b/6437-h/6437-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,10462 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta charset="UTF-8"> + <title>The Splendid Spur | Project Gutenberg</title> + <link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover"> +<style> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + .side { float: right; font-size: 75%; width: 25%; padding-left: 0.8em; + border-left: dashed thin; margin-left: 0.8em; text-align: left; + text-indent: 0; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; + font-weight: bold; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: solid 1px;} + +.pre {white-space: pre;} +.ph1, .ph4 { text-align: center; text-indent: 0em; font-weight: bold; } +.ph1 { font-size: xx-large; margin: .67em auto; } +.ph4 { font-size: medium; margin: 1.12em auto; } +div.chapter {page-break-before: always;} +</style> + </head> + <body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 6437 ***</div> + + <div style="height: 8em;"> + <br><br><br><br><br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h1> + THE SPLENDID SPUR + </h1> + + <div class="ph4">Being Memoirs of The Adventures of Mr. John Marvel, A Servant of His Late + Majesty King Charles I., In The Years 1642-3: Written by Himself: Edited + in Modern English by Q (Arthur T. Quiller Couch)</div> + + <p> + <br> + </p> + <h2> + By Arthur T. Quiller Couch + </h2> + <p> + <br> + </p> + <h3> + 1897 + </h3> + <h3> + TO + </h3> + <h3> + EDWARD GWYNNE EARDLEY-WILMOT. + </h3> + <h3> + <i>MY DEAR EDDIE,</i> + </h3> + <p> + Whatever view a story-teller may take of his business, ’tis happy when he + can think, “This book of mine will please such and such a friend,” and may + set that friend’s name after the title page. For even if to please (as + some are beginning to hold) should be no part of his aim, at least ’twill + always be a reward: and (in unworthier moods) next to a Writer I would + choose to be a Lamplighter, as the only other that gets so cordial a “God + bless him!” in the long winter evenings. + </p> + <p> + To win such a welcome at such a time from a new friend or two would be the + happiest fortune for my tale. But to you I could wish it to speak + particularly, seeing that under the coat of JACK MARVEL <i>beats the heart + of your friend</i> + </p> + <h3> + Q. + </h3> + <p> + <i>Torquay, August 22d</i>, 1889. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2H_4_0001"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class='chapter'><h2> + INTRODUCTORY NOTE. + </h2></div> + <h3> + “Q.” + </h3> + <p> + A year or two ago it was observed that three writers were using the + curiously popular signature “Q.” This was hardly less confusing than that + one writer should use three signatures (Grant Allen, Arbuthnot Wilson, and + Anon), but as none of the three was willing to try another letter, they + had to leave it to the public (whose decision in such matters is final) to + say who is Q to it. The public said, Let him wear this proud letter who + can win it, and for the present at least it is in the possession of the + author of “The Splendid Spur” and “The Blue Pavilions.” It would seem, + too, as if it were his “to keep,” for “Q” is like the competition cups + that are only yours for a season, unless you manage to carry them three + times in succession. Mr. Quiller-Couch has been champion Q since 1890. + </p> + <p> + The interesting question is not so much, What has he done to be the only + prominent Q of these years, as Is he to be the Q of all time? If so, he + will do better work than he has yet done, though several of his latest + sketches—and one in particular—are of very uncommon merit. Mr. + Quiller-Couch is so unlike Mr. Kipling that one immediately wants to + compare them. They are both young, and they have both shown such promise + that it will be almost sad if neither can write a book to live—as, + of course, neither has done as yet. Mr. Kipling is the more audacious, + which is probably a matter of training. He was brought up in India, where + one’s beard grows much quicker than at Oxford, and where you not only + become a man (and a cynic) in a hurry, but see and hear strange things + (and print them) such as the youth of Oxford miss, or, becoming acquainted + with, would not dare insert in the local magazine of the moment. So Mr. + Kipling’s first work betokened a knowledge of the world that is by no + means to be found in “Dead Man’s Rock,” the first book published by Mr. + Quiller-Couch. On the other hand, it cannot truly be said that Mr. + Kipling’s latest work is stronger than his first, while the other writer’s + growth is the most remarkable thing about him. It is precisely the same + Mr. Kipling who is now in the magazines that was writing some years ago in + India (and a rare good Mr. Kipling too), but the Mr. Quiller-Couch of + to-day is the Quiller-Couch of “Dead Man’s Rock” grown out of recognition. + To compare their styles is really to compare the men. Mr. Kipling’s is the + more startling, the stronger (as yet), and the more mannered. Mark Twain, + it appears, said he reads Mr. Kipling for his style, which is really the + same thing as saying you read him for his books, though the American seems + only to have meant that he eats the beef because he likes the salt. It is + a journalistic style, aiming too constantly at sharp effects, always + succeeding in getting them. Sometimes this is contrived at the expense of + grammar, as when (a common trick with the author) he ends a story with + such a paragraph as “Which is manifestly unfair.” Mr. Quiller-Couch has + never sinned in this way, but his first style was somewhat turgid, even + melodramatic, and, compared with Mr. Kipling’s, lacked distinction. From + the beginning Mr. Kipling had the genius for using the right word twice in + three times (Mr. Stevenson only misses it about once in twelve), while Mr. + Quiller-Couch not only used the wrong word, but weighted it with + adjectives. The charge, however, cannot be brought against him to-day, for + having begun by writing like a Mr. Haggard not quite sure of himself (if + one can imagine such a Mr. Haggard), and changing to an obvious imitation + of Mr. Stevenson, he seems now to have made a style for himself. It is + clear and careful, but not as yet strong winged. Its distinctive feature + is that it is curiously musical. + </p> + <p> + “Dead Man’s Rock” is a capital sensational story to be read and at once + forgotten. It was followed by “The Astonishing History of Troy Town,” + which was humorous, and proved that the author owed a debt to Dickens. But + it was not sufficiently humorous to be remarkable for its humor, and it + will go hand in hand with “Dead Man’s Rock” to oblivion. Until “The + Splendid Spur” appeared Mr. Quiller-Couch had done little to suggest that + an artist had joined the ranks of the story-tellers. It is not in anyway a + great work, but it was among the best dozen novels of its year, and as the + production of a new writer it was one of the most notable. About the same + time was published another historical romance of the second class (for to + nothing short of Sir Walter shall we give a first-class in this + department), “Micah Clarke,” by Mr. Conan Doyle. It was as inevitable that + the two books should be compared as that he who enjoyed the one should + enjoy the other. In one respect “Micah Clarke” is the better story. It + contains one character, a soldier of fortune, who is more memorable than + any single figure in “The Splendid Spur.” This, however, is effected at a + cost, for this man is the book. It contains, indeed, two young fellows, + one of them a John Ridd, but no Diana Vernon would blow a kiss to either. + Both stories are weak in pathos, despite Joan, but there are a score of + humorous situations in “The Splendid Spur” that one could not forget if he + would—which he would not—as, for instance, where hero and + heroine are hidden in barrels in a ship, and hero cries through his + bunghole, “Wilt marry me, sweetheart?” to which heroine replies, “Must get + out of this cask first.” Better still is the scene in which Captain Billy + expatiates, with a mop and a bucket, on the merits of his crew. But the + passages are for reading, not for hearing about. Of the characters, this + same Captain Billy is not the worst, but perhaps the best is Joan, Mr. + Quiller-Couch’s first successful picture of a girl. A capital eccentric + figure is killed (some good things are squandered in this book) just when + we are beginning to find him a genuine novelty. Anything that is ready to + leap into danger seems to be thought good enough for the hero of a + fighting romance, so that Jack Marvel will pass (though Delia, as is right + and proper, is worth two of him, despite her coming-on disposition). The + villain is a failure, and the plot poor. Nevertheless there are some + ingenious complications in it. Jack’s escape by means of the hangman’s + rope, which was to send him out of the world in a few hours, is a fine + rollicking bit of sensation. Where Mr. Quiller-Couch and Mr. Conan Doyle + both fail as compared with the great master of romance is in the + introduction of historical figures and episodes. Scott would have been a + great man if he had written no novel but “The Abbott” (one of his second + best), and no part of “The Abbott” but the scene in which Mary signs away + her crown. Mr. Quiller-Couch almost entirely avoids such attempts, and + even Mr. Conan Doyle only dips into them timidly. There is, one has been + told, a theory that the romancist has no right to picture history in this + way. But he makes his rights when he does it as Scott did it. + </p> + <p> + Since “The Splendid Spur,” Mr. Quiller-Couch has published nothing in book + form which can be considered an advance on his best novel, but there have + appeared by him a number of short Cornish sketches, which are perhaps best + considered as experiments. They are perilously slight, and where they are + successful one remembers them as sweet dreams or like a bar of music. All + aim at this effect, so that many should not be taken at a time, and some + (as was to be expected with such delicate work) miss their mark. It might + be said that in several of these melodies Mr. Quiller-Couch has been + writing the same thing again and again, determined to succeed absolutely, + if not this time then the next, and if not the next time then the time + after. In one case he has succeeded absolutely. “The Small People,” is a + prose “Song of the Shirt.” To my mind this is a rare piece of work, and + the biggest thing for its size that has been done in English fiction for + some years. + </p> + <p> + These sketches have been called experiments. They show (as his books + scarcely show) that Mr. Quiller-Couch can feel. They suggest that he may + be able to do for Cornwall what Mr. Hardy has done for Dorset—though + the methods of the two writers are as unlike as their counties. But that + can only be if in filling his notebook with these little comedies and + tragedies Mr. Quiller-Couch is preparing for more sustained efforts. + </p> +<div class="pre"> + “Our hope and heart is with thee + We will stand and mark.” + </div> + <h3> + J. M. BARRIE. + </h3> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <p> + <b>CONTENTS</b> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> INTRODUCTORY NOTE. </a> + </p> + <p> + <br> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> <b>THE SPLENDID SPUR.</b> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I. — THE BOWLING-GREEN OF THE + “CROWN.” </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II. — THE YOUNG MAN IN THE CLOAK OF + AMBER SATIN, </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III. — I FIND MYSELF IN A TAVERN + BRAWL: AND BARELY ESCAPE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV. — I TAKE THE ROAD. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V. — MY ADVENTURE AT THE “THREE + CUPS.” </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI. — THE FLIGHT IN THE PINE WOOD. + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII. — I FIND A COMRADE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII. — I LOSE THE KING’S LETTER; + AND AM CARRIED TO BRISTOL. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX. — I BREAK OUT OF PRISON. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X. — CAPTAIN POTTERY AND CAPTAIN + SETTLE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI. — I RIDE DOWN INTO TEMPLE: AND + AM WELL TREATED THERE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII. — HOW JOAN SAVED THE ARMY OF + THE WEST; AND SAW THE FIGHT ON BRADDOCK DOWN. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII. — I BUY A LOOKING GLASS AT + BODMIN FAIR: AND MEET WITH MR. HANNIBAL </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV. — I DO NO GOOD IN THE HOUSE OF + GLEYS. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV. — I LEAVE JOAN AND RIDE TO THE + WARS. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI. — THE BATTLE OF STAMFORD + HEATH. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII. — I MEET WITH A HAPPY + ADVENTURE BY BURNING OF A GREEN LIGHT.</a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII. — JOAN DOES ME HER LAST + SERVICE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX. — THE ADVENTURE OF THE HEARSE. + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX. — THE ADVENTURE OF THE LEDGE; + AND HOW I SHOOK HANDS WITH MY COMRADE. </a> + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2H_4_0002"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + + <div class="ph1">THE SPLENDID SPUR.</div> + + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0001"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class='chapter'><h2> + CHAPTER I. — THE BOWLING-GREEN OF THE “CROWN.” + </h2></div> + <p> + He that has jilted the Muse, forsaking her gentle pipe to follow the drum + and trumpet, shall fruitlessly besiege her again when the time comes to + sit at home and write down his adventures. ’Tis her revenge, as I am + extremely sensible: and methinks she is the harder to me, upon reflection + how near I came to being her lifelong servant, as you are to hear. + </p> + <p> + ’Twas on November 29th, Ao. 1642—a clear, frosty day—that the + King, with the Prince of Wales (newly recovered of the measles), the + Princes Rupert and Maurice, and a great company of lords and gentlemen, + horse and foot, came marching back to us from Reading. I was a scholar of + Trinity College in Oxford at that time, and may begin my history at three + o’clock on the same afternoon, when going (as my custom was) to Mr. Rob. + Drury for my fencing lesson, I found his lodgings empty. + </p> + <p> + They stood at the corner of Ship Street, as you turn into the Corn Market—a + low wainscoted chamber, ill-lighted but commodious. “He is off to see the + show,” thought I as I looked about me; and finding an easy cushion in the + window, sat down to await him. Where presently, being tired out (for I had + been carrying a halberd all day with the scholars’ troop in Magdalen + College Grove), and in despite of the open lattice, I fell sound asleep. + </p> + <p> + It must have been an hour after that I awoke with a chill (as was + natural), and was stretching out a hand to pull the window close, but + suddenly sat down again and fell to watching instead. + </p> + <p> + The window look’d down, at the height of ten feet or so, upon a + bowling-green at the back of the “Crown” Tavern (kept by John Davenant, in + the Corn Market), and across it to a rambling wing of the same inn; the + fourth side—that to my left—being but an old wall, with a + broad sycamore growing against it. ’Twas already twilight; and in the + dark’ning house, over the green, was now one casement brightly lit, the + curtains undrawn, and within a company of noisy drinkers round a table. + They were gaming, as was easily told by their clicking of the dice and + frequent oaths: and anon the bellow of some tipsy chorus would come + across. ’Twas one of these catches, I dare say, that woke me: only just + now my eyes were bent, not toward the singers, but on the still lawn + between us. + </p> + <p> + The sycamore, I have hinted, was a broad tree, and must, in summer, have + borne a goodly load of leaves: but now, in November, these were strewn + thick over the green, and nothing left but stiff, naked boughs. Beneath it + lay a crack’d bowl or two on the rank turf, and against the trunk a garden + bench rested, I suppose for the convenience of the players. On this a man + was now seated. + </p> + <p> + He was reading in a little book; and this first jogged my curiosity: for + ’twas unnatural a man should read print at this dim hour, or, if he had a + mind to try, should choose a cold bowling-green for his purpose. Yet he + seemed to study his volume very attentively, but with a sharp look, now + and then, toward the lighted window, as if the revellers disturb’d him. + His back was partly turn’d to me; and what with this and the growing dusk, + I could but make a guess at his face: but a plenty of silver hair fell + over his fur collar, and his shoulders were bent a great deal. I judged + him between fifty and sixty. For the rest, he wore a dark, simple suit, + very straitly cut, with an ample furr’d cloak, and a hat rather tall, + after the fashion of the last reign. + </p> + <p> + Now, why the man’s behavior so engaged me, I don’t know: but at the end of + half an hour I was still watching him. By this, ’twas near dark, bitter + cold, and his pretence to read mere fondness: yet he persevered—though + with longer glances at the casement above, where the din at times was fit + to wake the dead. + </p> + <p> + And now one of the dicers upsets his chair with a curse, and gets on his + feet. Looking up, I saw his features for a moment—a slight, pretty + boy, scarce above eighteen, with fair curls and flush’d cheeks like a + girl’s. It made me admire to see him in this ring of purple, villainous + faces. ’Twas evident he was a young gentleman of quality, as well by his + bearing as his handsome cloak of amber satin barr’d with black. “I think + the devil’s in these dice!” I heard him crying, and a pretty hubbub all + about him: but presently the drawer enters with more wine, and he sits + down quietly to a fresh game. + </p> + <p> + As soon as ’twas started, one of the crew, that had been playing but was + now dropp’d out, lounges up from his seat, and coming to the casement + pushes it open for fresh air. He was one that till now had sat in full + view—a tall bully, with a gross pimpled nose; and led the catches in + a bull’s voice. The rest of the players paid no heed to his rising; and + very soon his shoulders hid them, as he lean’d out, drawing in the cold + breath. + </p> + <p> + During the late racket I had forgot for a while my friend under the + sycamore, but now, looking that way, to my astonishment I saw him risen + from his bench and stealing across to the house opposite. I say + “stealing,” for he kept all the way to the darker shadow of the wall, and + besides had a curious trailing motion with his left foot as though the + ankle of it had been wrung or badly hurt. + </p> + <p> + As soon as he was come beneath the window he stopped and called softly— + </p> + <p> + “Hist!” + </p> + <p> + The bully gave a start and look’d down. I could tell by this motion he did + not look to find anyone in the bowling-green at that hour. Indeed he had + been watching the shaft of light thrown past him by the room behind, and + now moved so as to let it fall on the man that addressed him. + </p> + <p> + The other stands close under the window, as if to avoid this, and calls + again— + </p> + <p> + “Hist!” says he, and beckons with a finger. + </p> + <p> + The man at the window still held his tongue (I suppose because those in + the room would hear him if he spoke), and so for a while the two men + studied one another in silence, as if considering their next moves. + </p> + <p> + After a bit, however, the bully lifted a hand, and turning back into the + lighted room, walks up to one of the players, speaks a word or two and + disappears. + </p> + <p> + I sat up on the window seat, where till now I had been crouching for fear + the shaft of light should betray me, and presently (as I was expecting) + heard the latch of the back perch gently lifted, and spied the heavy form + of the bully coming softly over the grass. + </p> + <p> + Now, I would not have my readers prejudiced, and so may tell them this was + the first time in my life I had played the eavesdropper. That I did so now + I can never be glad enough, but ’tis true, nevertheless, my conscience + pricked me; and I was even making a motion to withdraw when that occurred + which would have fixed any man’s attention, whether he wish’d it or no. + </p> + <p> + The bully must have closed the door behind him but carelessly, for hardly + could he take a dozen steps when it opened again with a scuffle, and the + large house dog belonging to the “Crown” flew at his heels with a vicious + snarl and snap of the teeth. + </p> + <p> + ’Twas enough to scare the coolest. But the fellow turn’d as if shot, and + before he could snap again, had gripped him fairly by the throat. The + struggle that follow’d I could barely see, but I heard the horrible sounds + of it—the hard, short breathing of the man, the hoarse rage working + in the dog’s throat—and it turned me sick. The dog—a mastiff—was + fighting now to pull loose, and the pair swayed this way and that in the + dusk, panting and murderous. + </p> + <p> + I was almost shouting aloud—feeling as though ’twere my own throat + thus gripp’d—when the end came. The man had his legs planted well + apart. + </p> + <p> + I saw his shoulders heave up and bend as he tightened the pressure of his + fingers; then came a moment’s dead silence, then a hideous gurgle, and the + mastiff dropped back, his hind legs trailing limp. + </p> + <p> + The bully held him so for a full minute, peering close to make sure he was + dead, and then without loosening his hold, dragged him across the grass + under my window. By the sycamore he halted, but only to shift his hands a + little; and so, swaying on his hips, sent the carcase with a heave over + the wall. I heard it drop with a thud on the far side. + </p> + <p> + During this fierce wrestle—which must have lasted about two minutes—the + clatter and shouting of the company above had gone on without a break; and + all this while the man with the white hair had rested quietly on one side, + watching. But now he steps up to where the bully stood mopping his face + (for all the coolness of the evening), and, with a finger between the + leaves of his book, bows very politely. + </p> + <p> + “You handled that dog, sir, choicely well,” says he, in a thin voice that + seemed to have a chuckle hidden in it somewhere. + </p> + <p> + The other ceased mopping to get a good look at him. + </p> + <p> + “But sure,” he went on, “’twas hard on the poor cur, that had never heard + of Captain Lucius Higgs—” + </p> + <p> + I thought the bully would have had him by the windpipe and pitched him + after the mastiff, so fiercely he turn’d at the sound of this name. But + the old gentleman skipped back quite nimbly and held up a finger. + </p> + <p> + “I’m a man of peace. If another title suits you better—” + </p> + <p> + “Where the devil got you that name?” growled the bully, and had half a + mind to come on again, but the other put in briskly— + </p> + <p> + “I’m on a plain errand of business. No need, as you hint, to mention + names; and therefore let me present myself as Mr. Z. The residue of the + alphabet is at your service to pick and choose from.” + </p> + <p> + “My name is Luke Settle,” said the big man hoarsely (but whether this was + his natural voice or no I could not tell). + </p> + <p> + “Let us say ‘Mr. X.’ I prefer it.” + </p> + <p> + The old gentleman, as he said this, popped his head on one side, laid the + forefinger of his right hand across the book, and seem’d to be + considering. + </p> + <p> + “Why did you throttle that dog a minute ago?” he asked sharply. + </p> + <p> + “Why, to save my skin,” answers the fellow, a bit puzzled. + </p> + <p> + “Would you have done it for fifty pounds?” + </p> + <p> + “Aye, or half that.” + </p> + <p> + “And how if it had been a <i>puppy</i>, Mr. X?” + </p> + <p> + Now all this from my hiding I had heard very clearly, for they stood right + under me in the dusk. But as the old gentleman paused to let his question + sink in, and the bully to catch the drift of it before answering, one of + the dicers above struck up to sing a catch—— + </p> +<div class="pre"> + “With a hey, trolly-lolly! a leg to the Devil, + And answer him civil, and off with your cap: + Sing—Hey, trolly-lolly! Good-morrow, Sir Evil, + We’ve finished the tap, + And, saving your worship, we care not a rap!” + </div> + <p> + While this din continued, the stranger held up one forefinger again, as if + beseeching silence, the other remaining still between the pages of his + book. + </p> + <p> + “Pretty boys!” he said, as the noise died away; “pretty boys! ’Tis easily + seen they have a bird to pluck.” + </p> + <p> + “He’s none of my plucking.” + </p> + <p> + “And if he were, why not? Sure you’ve picked a feather or two before now + in the Low Countries—hey?” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll tell you what,” interrupts the big man, “next time you crack one of + your death’s-head jokes, over the wall you go after the dog. What’s to + prevent it?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, this,” answers the old fellow, cheerfully. “There’s money to be made + by doing no such thing. And I don’t carry it all about with me. So, as + ’tis late, we’d best talk business at once.” + </p> + <p> + They moved away toward the seat under the sycamore, and now their words + reached me no longer—only the low murmur of their voices or (to be + correct) of the elder man’s: for the other only spoke now and then, to put + a question, as it seemed. Presently I heard an oath rapped out and saw the + bully start up. “Hush, man!” cried the other, and “hark-ye now—”; so + he sat down again. Their very forms were lost within the shadow. I, + myself, was cold enough by this time and had a cramp in one leg—but + lay still, nevertheless. And after awhile they stood up together, and came + pacing across the bowling-green, side by side, the older man trailing his + foot painfully to keep step. You may be sure I strain’d my ears. + </p> + <p> + “—besides the pay,” the stranger was saying, “there’s all you can + win of this young fool, Anthony, and all you find on the pair, which I’ll + wager—” + </p> + <p> + They passed out of hearing, but turned soon, and came back again. The big + man was speaking this time. + </p> + <p> + “I’ll be shot if I know what game <i>you’re</i> playing in this.” + </p> + <p> + The elder chuckled softly. “I’ll be shot if I mean you to,” said he. + </p> + <p> + And this was the last I heard. For now there came a clattering at the door + behind me, and Mr. Robert Drury reeled in, hiccuping a maudlin ballad + about “<i>Tib and young Colin, one fine day, beneath the haycock shade-a</i>,” + &c., &c., and cursing to find his fire gone out, and all in + darkness. Liquor was ever his master, and to-day the King’s health had + been a fair excuse. He did not spy me, but the roar of his ballad had + startled the two men outside, and so, while he was stumbling over chairs, + and groping for a tinder-box, I slipp’d out in the darkness, and + downstairs into the street. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0002"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class='chapter'><h2> + CHAPTER II. — THE YOUNG MAN IN THE CLOAK OF AMBER SATIN, + </h2></div> + <p> + Guess, any of you, if these events disturbed my rest that night. ’Twas + four o’clock before I dropp’d asleep in my bed in Trinity, and my last + thoughts were still busy with the words I had heard. Nor, on the morrow, + did it fair any better with me: so that, at rhetoric lecture, our + president—Dr. Ralph Kettle—took me by the ears before the + whole class. He was the fiercer upon me as being older than the gross of + my fellow-scholars, and (as he thought) the more restless under + discipline. “A tutor’d adolescence,” he would say, “is a fair grace before + meat,” and had his hourglass enlarged to point the moral for us. But even + a rhetoric lecture must have an end, and so, tossing my gown to the + porter, I set off at last for Magdalen Bridge, where the new barricado was + building, along the Physic Garden, in front of East Gate. + </p> + <p> + The day was dull and low’ring, though my wits were too busy to heed the + sky; but scarcely was I past the small gate in the city wall when a brisk + shower of hail and sleet drove me to shelter in the Pig Market ( or <i>Proscholium</i>) + before the Divinity School. ’Tis an ample vaulted passage, as I dare say + you know; and here I found a great company of people already driven by the + same cause. + </p> + <p> + To describe them fully ’twould be necessary to paint the whole state of + our city in those distracted times, which I have neither wit nor time for. + But here, to-day, along with many doctors and scholars, were walking + courtiers, troopers, mountebanks, cut-purses, astrologers, rogues and + gamesters; together with many of the first ladies and gentlemen of + England, as the Prince Maurice, the lords Andover, Digby and Colepepper, + my lady Thynne, Mistress Fanshawe, Mr. Secretary Nicholas, the famous Dr. + Harvey, arm-in-arm with my lord Falkland (whose boots were splash’d with + mud, he having ridden over from his house at Great Tew), and many such, + all mix’d in this incredible tag-rag. Mistress Fanshawe, as I remember, + was playing on a lute, which she carried always slung about her shoulders: + and close beside her, a fellow impudently puffing his specific against the + <i>morbus campestris</i>, which already had begun to invade us. + </p> + <p> + “<i>Who’ll buy?</i>” he was bawling. “<i>’Tis from the receipt of a famous + Italian, and never yet failed man, woman, nor child, unless the heart were + clean drown’d in the disease: the lest part of it good muscadine, and has + virtue against the plague, smallpox, or surfeits!</i>” + </p> + <p> + I was standing before this jackanapes, when I heard a stir in the crowd + behind me, and another calling, “<i>Who’ll buy? Who’ll buy?</i>” + </p> + <p> + Turning, I saw a young man, very gaily dressed, moving quickly about at + the far end of the Pig Market, and behind him an old lackey, bent double + with the weight of two great baskets that he carried. The baskets were + piled with books, clothes, and gewgaws of all kinds; and ’twas the young + gentleman that hawked his wares himself. “<i>What d’ye lack?</i>” he kept + shouting, and would stop to unfold his merchandise, holding up now a book, + and now a silk doublet, and running over their merits like any huckster—but + with the merriest conceit in the world. + </p> + <p> + And yet ’twas not this that sent my heart flying into my mouth at the + sight of him. For by his curls and womanish face, no less than the amber + cloak with the black bars, I knew him at once for the same I had seen + yesterday among the dicers. + </p> + <p> + As I stood there, drawn this way and that by many reflections, he worked + his way through the press, selling here and there a trifle from his + baskets, and at length came to a halt in front of me. + </p> + <p> + “Ha!” he cried, pulling off his plumed hat, and bowing low, “a scholar, I + perceive. Let me serve you, sir. Here is the ‘History of Saint George,’” + and he picked out a thin brown quarto and held it up; “written by Master + Peter Heylin; a ripe book they tell me (though, to be sure, I never read + beyond the title), and the price a poor two shillings.” + </p> + <p> + [Illustration: “A scholar, I perceive. Let me serve you sir?”—Page + 30.] + </p> + <p> + Now, all this while I was considering what to do. So, as I put my hand in + my pocket, and drew out the shillings, I said very slowly, looking him in + the eyes (but softly, so that the lackey might not hear)—— + </p> + <p> + “So thus you feed your expenses at the dice: and my shilling, no doubt, is + for Luke Settle, as well as the rest.” + </p> + <p> + For the moment, under my look, he went white to the lips; then clapped his + hand to his sword, withdrew it, and answered me, red as a turkey-cock—— + </p> + <p> + “Shalt be a parson, yet, Master Scholar: but art in a damn’d hurry, it + seems.” + </p> + <p> + Now, I had ever a quick temper, and as he turned on his heel, was like to + have replied and raised a brawl. My own meddling tongue had brought the + rebuff upon me: but yet my heart was hot as he walked away. + </p> + <p> + I was standing there and looking after him, turning over in my hand the + “Life of Saint George,” when my fingers were aware of a slip of paper + between the pages. Pulling it out, I saw ’twas scribbled over with writing + and figures, as follows:— + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Anthony Killigrew, his acct for Oct. 25th, MDCXLII.—<i>For + herrings</i>, 2d.; <i>for coffie</i>, 4d.; <i>for scowring my coat</i>, + 6d.; <i>at bowls</i>, 5s. 10d.; <i>for bleading me</i>, 1s. 0d.; <i>for ye + King’s speech</i>, 3d.; <i>for spic’d wine (with Marjory)</i>, 2s. 4d.; <i>for + seeing ye Rhinoceros</i>, 4d.; <i>at ye Ranter-go-round</i>, 6 ¾d.; <i>for + a pair of silver buttons</i>, 2s. 6d.; <i>for apples</i>, 2 ½d.; <i>for + ale</i>, 6d.; <i>at ye dice</i>, L17 5s.; <i>for spic’d wine (again)</i>, + 4s. 6d.” + </p> + <p> + And so on. + </p> + <p> + As I glanced my eye down this paper, my anger oozed away, and a great + feeling of pity came over me, not only at the name of Anthony—the + name I had heard spoken in the bowling-green last night—but also to + see that monstrous item of L17 odd spent on the dice. ’Twas such a boy, + too, after all, that I was angry with, that had spent fourpence to see the + rhinoceros at a fair, and rode on the ranter-go-round (with “Marjory,” no + doubt, as ’twas for her, no doubt, the silver buttons were bought). So + that, with quick forgiveness, I hurried after him, and laid a hand on his + shoulder. + </p> + <p> + He stood by the entrance, counting up his money, and drew himself up very + stiff. + </p> + <p> + “I think, sir,” said I, “this paper is yours.” + </p> + <p> + “I thank you,” he answered, taking it, and eyeing me. “Is there anything, + besides, you wished to say?” + </p> + <p> + “A great deal, maybe, if your name be Anthony.” + </p> + <p> + “Master Anthony Killigrew is my name, sir; now serving under Lord Bernard + Stewart in His Majesty’s troop of guards.” + </p> + <p> + “And mine is Jack Marvel,” said I. “Of the Yorkshire Marvels?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes; though but a shoot of that good stock, transplanted to + Cumberland, and there sadly withered.” + </p> + <p> + “’Tis no matter, sir,” said he politely; “I shall be proud to cross swords + with you.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, bless your heart!” I cried out, full of laughter at this childish + punctilio; “d’ye think I came to fight you?” + </p> + <p> + “If not, sir”—and he grew colder than ever—“you are going a + cursed roundabout way to avoid it.” + </p> + <p> + Upon this, finding no other way out of it, I began my tale at once: but + hardly had come to the meeting of the two men on the bowling-green, when + he interrupts me politely—— + </p> + <p> + “I think, Master Marvel, as yours is like to be a story of some moment, I + will send this fellow back to my lodgings. He’s a long-ear’d dog that I am + saving from the gallows for so long as my conscience allows me. The shower + is done, I see; so if you know of a retir’d spot, we will talk there more + at our leisure.” + </p> + <p> + He dismiss’d his lackey, and stroll’d off with me to the Trinity Grove, + where, walking up and down, I told him all I had heard and seen the night + before. + </p> + <p> + “And now,” said I, “can you tell me if you have any such enemy as this + white-hair’d man, with the limping gait?” + </p> + <p> + He had come to a halt, sucking in his lips and seeming to reflect— + </p> + <p> + “I know one man,” he began: “but no—’tis impossible.” + </p> + <p> + As I stood, waiting to hear more, he clapp’d his hand in mine, very quick + and friendly: “Jack,” he cried;—“I’ll call thee Jack—’twas an + honest good turn thou hadst in thy heart to do me, and I a surly rogue to + think of fighting—I that could make mincemeat of thee.” + </p> + <p> + “I can fence a bit,” answer’d I. “Now, say no more, Jack: I love + thee.” + </p> + <p> + He look’d in my face, still holding my hand and smiling. Indeed, there was + something of the foreigner in his brisk graceful ways—yet not + unpleasing. I was going to say I had never seen the like—ah, me! + that both have seen and know the twin image so well. + </p> + <p> + “I think,” said I, “you had better be considering what to do.” + </p> + <p> + He laugh’d outright this time; and resting with his legs cross’d, against + the trunk of an elm, twirl’d an end of his long lovelocks, and looked at + me comically. Said he: “Tell me, Jack, is there aught in me that offends + thee?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, no,” I answered. “I think you’re a very proper young man—such + as I should loathe to see spoil’d by Master Settle’s knife.” + </p> + <p> + “Art not quick at friendship, Jack, but better at advising; only in this + case fortune has prevented thy good offices. Hark ye,” he lean’d forward + and glanc’d to right and left, “if these twain intend my hurt—as + indeed ’twould seem—they lose their labor: for this very night I + ride from Oxford.” + </p> + <p> + “And why is that?” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll tell thee, Jack, tho’ I deserve to be shot. I am bound with a letter + from His Majesty to the Army of the West, where I have friends, for my + father’s sake—Sir Deakin Killigrew of Gleys, in Cornwall. ’Tis a + sweet country, they say, tho’ I have never seen it.” + </p> + <p> + “Not seen thy father’s country?” + </p> + <p> + “Why no—for he married a Frenchwoman, Jack, God rest her dear soul!”—he + lifted his hat—“and settled in that country, near Morlaix, in + Brittany, among my mother’s kin; my grandfather refusing to see or speak + with him, for wedding a poor woman without his consent. And in France was + I born and bred, and came to England two years agone; and this last July + the old curmudgeon died. So that my father, who was an only son, is even + now in England returning to his estates: and with him my only sister + Delia. I shall meet them on the way. To think of it!” (and I declare the + tears sprang to his eyes): “Delia will be a woman grown, and ah! to see + dear Cornwall together!” + </p> + <p> + Now I myself was only a child, and had been made an orphan when but nine + years old, by the smallpox that visited our home in Wastdale Village, and + carried off my father, the Vicar, and my dear mother. Yet his simple words + spoke to my heart and woke so tender a yearning for the small stone + cottage, and the bridge, and the grey fells of Yewbarrow above it, that a + mist rose in my eyes too, and I turn’d away to hide it. + </p> + <p> + “’Tis a ticklish business,” said I after a minute, “to carry the King’s + letter. Not one in four of his messengers comes through, they say. But + since it keeps you from the dice——” + </p> + <p> + “That’s true. To-night I make an end.” + </p> + <p> + “To-night!” + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes. To-night I go for my revenge, and ride straight from the inn + door.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I go with you to the ‘Crown,’” I cried, very positive. + </p> + <p> + He dropp’d playing with his curl, and look’d me in the face, his mouth + twitching with a queer smile. + </p> + <p> + “And so thou shalt Jack: but why?” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll give no reason,” said I, and knew I was blushing. + </p> + <p> + “Then be at the corner of All Hallows’ Church in Turl Street at seven + to-night. I lodge over Master Simon’s, the glover, and must be about my + affairs. Jack,”—he came near and took my hand—“am sure thou + lovest me.” + </p> + <p> + He nodded, with another cordial smile, and went his way up the grove, his + amber cloak flaunting like a belated butterfly under the leaf less trees; + and so pass’d out of my sight. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0003"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class='chapter'><h2> + CHAPTER III. — I FIND MYSELF IN A TAVERN BRAWL: AND BARELY ESCAPE. + </h2></div> + <p> + It wanted, maybe, a quarter to seven, that evening, when, passing out at + the College Gate on my way to All Hallows’ Church, I saw under the lantern + there a man loitering and talking with the porter. ’Twas Master Anthony’s + lackey; and as I came up, he held out a note for me. + </p> + <p> + Deare Jack + </p> + <p> + Wee goe to the “Crowne” at VI. o’clock, I having mett with Captain Settle, + who is on dewty with the horse tonite, and must to Abendonn by IX. I looke + for you— + </p> + <p> + Your unfayned loving + </p> + <h3> + A. K. + </h3> + <p> + The bearer has left my servise, and his helth conserus me nott. Soe kik + him if he tarrie. + </p> + <p> + This last advice I had no time to carry out with any thoroughness: but + being put in a great dread by this change of hour, pelted off toward the + Corn Market as fast as legs could take me, which was the undoing of a + little round citizen into whom I ran full tilt at the corner of Balliol + College: who, before I could see his face in the darkness, was tipp’d on + his back in the gutter and using the most dismal expressions. So I left + him, considering that my excuses would be unsatisfying to his present + demands, and to his cooler judgment a superfluity. + </p> + <p> + The windows of the “Crown” were cheerfully lit behind their red blinds. A + few straddling grooms and troopers talked and spat in the brightness of + the entrance, and outside in the street was a servant leading up and down + a beautiful sorrel mare, ready saddled, that was mark’d on the near hind + leg with a high white stocking. In the passage, I met the host of the + “Crown,” Master John Davenant, and sure (I thought) in what odd corners + will the Muse pick up her favorites! For this slow, loose-cheek’d vintner + was no less than father to Will Davenant, our Laureate, and had belike + read no other verse in his life but those at the bottom of his own + pint-pots. + </p> + <p> + “Top of the stairs,” says he, indicating my way, “and open the door ahead + of you, if y’are the young gentleman Master Killigrew spoke of.” + </p> + <p> + I had my foot on the bottom step, when from the room above comes the crash + of a table upsetting, with a noise of broken glass, chairs thrust back, + and a racket of outcries. Next moment, the door was burst open, letting + out a flood of light and curses; and down flies a drawer, three steps at a + time, with a red stain of wine trickling down his white face. + </p> + <p> + “Murder!” he gasped out; and sitting down on a stair, fell to mopping his + face, all sick and trembling. + </p> + <p> + I was dashing past him, with the landlord at my heels, when three men came + tumbling out at the door, and downstairs. I squeezed myself against the + wall to let them pass: but Master Davenant was pitch’d to the very foot of + the stairs. And then he picked himself up and ran out into the Corn + Market, the drawer after him, and both shouting “Watch! Watch!” at the top + of their lungs; and so left the three fellows to push by the women already + gathered in the passage, and gain the street at their ease. All this + happen’d while a man could count twenty; and in half a minute I heard the + ring of steel and was standing in the doorway. + </p> + <p> + There was now no light within but what was shed by the fire and two tallow + candles that gutter’d on the mantelshelf. The remaining candlesticks lay + in a pool of wine on the floor, amid broken glasses, bottles, scattered + coins, dice boxes and pewter pots. In the corner to my right cower’d a + potboy, with tankard dangling in his hand, and the contents spilling into + his shoes. His wide terrified eyes were fix’d on the far end of the room, + where Anthony and the brute Settle stood, with a shattered chair between + them. Their swords were cross’d in tierce, and grating together as each + sought occasion for a lunge: which might have been fair enough but for a + dog-fac’d trooper in a frowsy black periwig, who, as I enter’d, was + gathering a handful of coins from under the fallen table, and now ran + across, sword in hand, to the Captain’s aid. + </p> + <p> + ’Twas Anthony that fac’d me, with his heel against the wainscoting, and, + catching my cry of alarm, he call’d out cheerfully over the Captain’s + shoulder, but without lifting his eyes— + </p> + <p> + “Just in time, Jack! Take off the second cur, that’s a sweet boy!” + </p> + <p> + Now I carried no sword; but seizing the tankard from the potboy’s hand, I + hurl’d it at the dog-fac’d trooper. It struck him fair between the + shoulder blades; and with a yell of pain he spun round and came toward me, + his point glittering in a way that turn’d me cold. I gave back a pace, + snatch’d up a chair (that luckily had a wooden seat) and with my back + against the door, waited his charge. + </p> + <p> + ’Twas in this posture that, flinging a glance across the room, I saw the + Captain’s sword describe a small circle of light, and next moment, with a + sharp cry, Anthony caught at the blade, and stagger’d against the wall, + pinn’d through the chest to the wainscoting. + </p> + <p> + “Out with the lights, Dick!” bawl’d Settle, tugging out his point. “Quick, + fool—the window!” + </p> + <p> + Dick, with a back sweep of his hand, sent the candles flying off the + shelf; and, save for the flicker of the hearth, we were in darkness. I + felt, rather than saw, his rush toward me; leap’d aside; and brought down + my chair with a crash on his skull. He went down like a ninepin, but + scrambled up in a trice, and was running for the window. + </p> + <p> + There was a shout below as the Captain thrust the lattice open: another, + and the two dark forms had clambered through the purple square of the + casement, and dropped into the bowling-green below. + </p> + <p> + By this, I had made my way across the room, and found Anthony sunk against + the wall, with his feet outstretched. There was something he held out + toward me, groping for my hand and at the same time whispering in a thick, + choking voice— + </p> + <p> + “Here, Jack, here: pocket it quick!” + </p> + <p> + ’Twas a letter, and as my fingers closed on it they met a damp smear, the + meaning of which was but too plain. + </p> + <p> + “Button it—sharp—in thy breast: now feel for my sword.” + </p> + <p> + “First let me tend thy hurt, dear lad.” + </p> + <p> + “Nay—quickly, my sword! ’Tis pretty, Jack, to hear thee say ‘dear + lad.’ A cheat to die like this—could have laugh’d for years yet. The + dice were cogg’d—hast found it?” + </p> + <p> + I groped beside him, found the hilt, and held it up. + </p> + <p> + “So—’tis thine, Jack: and my mare, Molly, and the letter to take. + Say to Delia—Hark! they are on the stairs. Say to—” + </p> + <p> + With a shout the door was flung wide, and on the threshold stood the + Watch, their lanterns held high and shining in Anthony’s white face, and + on the black stain where his doublet was thrown open. + </p> + <p> + In numbers they were six or eight, led by a small, wrynecked man that held + a long staff, and wore a gilt chain over his furr’d collar. Behind, in the + doorway, were huddled half a dozen women, peering: and Master Davenant at + the back of all, his great face looming over their shoulders like a moon. + </p> + <p> + “Now, speak up, Master Short!” + </p> + <p> + “Aye, that I will—that I will: but my head is considering of + affairs,” answered Master Short—he of the wryneck. “One, two, three—” + He look’d round the room, and finding but one capable of resisting (for + the potboy was by this time in a fit), clear’d his throat, and spoke up— + </p> + <p> + “In the king’s name, I arrest you all—so help me God! Now what’s the + matter?” + </p> + <p> + “Murder,” said I, looking up from my work of staunching Anthony’s wound. + </p> + <p> + “Then forbear, and don’t do it.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Master Short, they’ve been forbearin’ these ten minutes,” a woman’s + voice put in. + </p> + <p> + “Hush, and hear Master Short: he knows the law, an’ all the dubious maxims + of the same.” + </p> + <p> + “Aye, aye: he says forbear i’ the King’s name, which is to say, that other + forbearing is neither law nor grace. Now then, Master Short!” + </p> + <p> + Thus exhorted, the man of law continued— + </p> + <p> + “I charge ye as honest men to disperse!” + </p> + <p> + “Odds truth, Master Short, why you’ve just laid ’em under arrest!” + </p> + <p> + “H’m, true: then let ’em stay so—in the king’s name—and have + done with it.” + </p> + <p> + Master Short, in fact, was growing testy: but now the women push’d by him, + and, by screaming at the sight of blood, put him out of all patience. + Dragging them back by the skirts, he told me he must take the depositions, + and pull’d out pen and ink horn. + </p> + <p> + “Sirs,” said I, laying poor Anthony’s head softly back, “you are too late: + whilst ye were cackling my friend is dead.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, young man, thou must come along.” + </p> + <p> + “Come along?” + </p> + <p> + “The charge is <i>homocidium</i>, or manslaying, with or without malice + prepense—” + </p> + <p> + “But—” I look’d round. The potboy was insensible, and my eyes fell + on Master Davenant, who slowly shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “I’ll say not a word,” said he, stolidly: “lost twenty pound, one time, by + a lawsuit.” + </p> + <p> + “Pack of fools!” I cried, driven beyond endurance. “The guilty ones have + escap’d these ten minutes. Now stop me who dares!” + </p> + <p> + And dashing my left fist on the nose of a watchman who would have seized + me, I clear’d a space with Anthony’s sword, made a run for the casement, + and dropp’d out upon the bowling-green. + </p> + <p> + A pretty shout went up as I pick’d myself off the turf and rush’d for the + back door. ’Twas unbarr’d, and in a moment I found myself tearing down the + passage and out into the Corn Market, with a score or so tumbling + downstairs at my heels, and yelling to stop me. Turning sharp to my right, + I flew up Ship Street, and through the Turl, and doubled back up the High + Street, sword in hand. The people I pass’d were too far taken aback, as I + suppose, to interfere. But a many must have join’d in the chase: for + presently the street behind me was thick with the clatter of footsteps and + cries of “A thief—a thief! Stop him!” + </p> + <p> + At Quater Voies I turn’d again, and sped down toward St. Aldate’s, thence + to the left by Wild Boar Street, and into St. Mary’s Lane. By this, the + shouts had grown fainter, but were still following. Now I knew there was + no possibility to get past the city gates, which were well guarded at + night. My hope reach’d no further than the chance of outwitting the + pursuit for a while longer. In the end I was sure the potboy’s evidence + would clear me, and therefore began to enjoy the fun. Even my certain + expulsion from College on the morrow seem’d of a piece with the rest of + events and (prospectively) a matter for laughter. For the struggle at the + “Crown” had unhinged my wits, as I must suppose and you must believe, if + you would understand my behavior in the next half hour. + </p> + <p> + A bright thought had struck me: and taking a fresh wind, I set off again + round the corner of Oriel College, and down Merton Street toward Master + Timothy Carter’s house, my mother’s cousin. This gentleman—who was + town clerk to the Mayor and Corporation of Oxford—was also in a + sense my guardian, holding in trust about L200 (which was all my + inheritance), and spending the same jealously on my education. He was a + very small, precise lawyer, about sixty years old, shaped like a pear, + with a prodigious self-important manner that came of associating with + great men: and all the knowledge I had of him was pick’d up on the rare + occasions (about twice a year) that I din’d at his table. He had early + married and lost an aged shrew, whose money had been the making of him: + and had more respect for law and authority than any three men in Oxford. + So that I reflected, with a kind of desperate hilarity, on the greeting he + was like to give me. + </p> + <p> + This kinsman of mine had a fine house at the east end of Merton Street as + you turn into Logic Lane: and I was ten yards from the front door, and + running my fastest, when suddenly I tripp’d and fell headlong. + </p> + <p> + Before I could rise, a hand was on my shoulder, and a voice speaking in my + ear— + </p> + <p> + “Pardon, comrade. We are two of a trade, I see.” + </p> + <p> + ’Twas a fellow that had been lurking at the corner of the lane, and had + thrust out a leg as I pass’d. He was pricking up his ears now to the cries + of “Thief—thief!” that had already reach’d the head of the street, + and were drawing near. + </p> + <p> + “I am no thief,” said I. “Quick!” He dragged me into the shadow of + the lane. “Hast a crown in thy pocket?” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, for a good turn. I’ll fog these gentry for thee. Many thanks, + comrade,” as I pull’d out the last few shillings of my pocket money. “Now + pitch thy sword over the wall here, and set thy foot on my hand. ’Tis a + rich man’s garden, t’other side, that I was meaning to explore myself; but + another night will serve.” + </p> + <p> + “’Tis Master Carter’s,” said I; “and he’s my kinsman.” + </p> + <p> + “The devil!—but never mind, up with thee! Now mark a pretty piece of + play. ’Tis pity thou shouldst be across the wall and unable to see.” + </p> + <p> + He gave a great hoist: catching at the coping of the wall, I pull’d myself + up and sat astride of it. + </p> + <p> + “Good turf below—ta-ta, comrade!” + </p> + <p> + By now, the crowd was almost at the corner. Dropping about eight feet on + to good turf, as the fellow had said, I pick’d myself up and listen’d. + </p> + <p> + “Which way went he?” call’d one, as they came near. + </p> + <p> + “Down the street!” “No: up the lane!’” “Hush!” “Up the lane, I’ll be + sworn.” “Here, hand the lantern!” &c., &c. + </p> + <p> + While they debated, my friend stood close on the other side of the wall: + but now I heard him dash suddenly out, and up the lane for his life. + “There he goes!” “Stop him!” the cries broke out afresh. “Stop him, i’ the + king’s name!” The whole pack went pelting by, shouting, stumbling, + swearing. + </p> + <p> + For two minutes or more the stragglers continued to hurry past by ones and + twos. As soon as their shouts died away, I drew freer breath and look’d + around. + </p> + <p> + I was in a small, turfed garden, well stock’d with evergreen shrubs, at + the back of a tall house that I knew for Master Carter’s. But what puzzled + me was a window in the first floor, very brightly lit, and certain sounds + issuing therefrom that had no correspondence with my kinsman’s reputation. + </p> +<div class="pre"> + “It was a frog leap’d into a pool— + Fol—de—riddle, went souse in the middle! + Says he, This is better than moping in school. + With a—” + </div> + <p> + “—Your Royal Highness, have some pity! What hideous folly! Oh, dear, + dear—” + </p> +<div class="pre"> + “With a fa-la-tweedle-tweedle, + Tiddifol-iddifol-ido!” + </div> + <p> + “—Your Royal Highness, I <i>cannot</i> sing the dreadful stuff! + Think of my grey hairs!” + </p> + <p> + “Tush! Master Carter—nonsense; ’tis choicely well sung. Come, + brother, the chorus!” + </p> +<div class="pre"> + “With a fa-la—” + </div> + <p> + And the chorus was roar’d forth, with shouts of laughter and clinking of + glasses. Then came an interval of mournful appeal, and my kinsman’s voice + was again lifted—— + </p> +<div class="pre"> + “He scattered the tadpoles, and set ’em agog, + Hey! nod-noddy-all head and no body! + Oh, mammy! Oh, minky!—” + </div> + <p> + “—O, mercy, mercy! it makes me sweat for shame.” + </p> + <p> + Now meantime I had been searching about the garden, and was lucky enough + to find a tool shed, and inside of this a ladder hanging, which now I + carried across and planted beneath the window. I had a shrewd notion of + what I should find at the top, remembering now to have heard that the + Princes Rupert and Maurice were lodging with Master Carter: but the truth + beat all my fancies. + </p> + <p> + For climbing softly up and looking in, I beheld my poor kinsman perch’d on + his chair a-top of the table, in the midst of glasses, decanters, and + desserts: his wig askew, his face white, save where, between the eyes, a + medlar had hit and broken, and his glance shifting wildly between the two + princes, who in easy postures, loose and tipsy, lounged on either side of + him, and beat with their glasses on the board. + </p> + <p> + “Bravissimo! More, Master Carter—more!” + </p> +<div class="pre"> + “O mammy, O nunky, here’s cousin Jack Frog— + With a fa-la—” + </div> + <p> + I lifted my knuckles and tapp’d on the pane; whereon Prince Maurice starts + up with an oath, and coming to the window, flings it open. + </p> + <p> + “Pardon, your Highness,” said I, and pull’d myself past him into the room, + as cool as you please. + </p> + <p> + ’Twas worth while to see their surprise. Prince Maurice ran back to the + table for his sword: his brother (being more thoroughly drunk) dropped a + decanter on the floor, and lay back staring in his chair. While as for my + kinsman, he sat with mouth wide and eyes starting, as tho’ I were a very + ghost. In the which embarrassment I took occasion to say, very politely— + </p> + <p> + “Good evening, nunky!” + </p> + <p> + “Who the devil is this?” gasps Prince Rupert. + </p> + <p> + “Why the fact is, your Highnesses,” answered I, stepping up and laying my + sword on the table, while I pour’d out a glass, “Master Timothy Carter + here is my guardian, and has the small sum of L200 in his possession for + my use, of which I happen to-night to stand in immediate need. So you see—” + I finished the sentence by tossing off a glass. “This is rare stuff!” I + said. + </p> + <p> + “Blood and fury!” burst out Prince Rupert, fumbling for his sword, and + then gazing, drunk and helpless. + </p> + <p> + “Two hundred pound! Thou jackanapes—” began Master Carter. + </p> + <p> + “I’ll let you off with fifty to-night,” said I. “Ten thousand—!” + </p> + <p> + “No, fifty. Indeed, nunky,” I went on, “’tis very simple. I was at the + ‘Crown’ tavern—” + </p> + <p> + “At a tavern!” + </p> + <p> + “Aye, at a game of dice—” + </p> + <p> + “Dice!” + </p> + <p> + “Aye, and a young man was killed—” + </p> + <p> + “Thou shameless puppy! A man murder’d!” + </p> + <p> + “Aye, nunky; and the worst is they say ’twas I that kill’d him.” + </p> + <p> + “He’s mad. The boy’s stark raving mad!” exclaim’d my kinsman. “To come + here in this trim!” + </p> + <p> + “Why, truly, nunky, thou art a strange one to talk of appearances. Oh, + dear!” and I burst into a wild fit of laughing, for the wine had warm’d me + up to play the comedy out. “To hear thee sing + </p> +<div class="pre"> + “‘With a fa—la—tweedle—tweedle!’ +</div> + <p> + and—Oh, nunky, that medlar on thy face is so funny!” + </p> + <p> + “In Heaven’s name, stop!” broke in the Prince Maurice. “Am I mad, or only + drunk? Rupert, if you love me, say I am no worse than drunk.” + </p> + <p> + “Lord knows,” answer’d his brother. “I for one was never this way before.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, your Highnesses be only drunk,” said I, “and able at that to sign + the order that I shall ask you for.” + </p> + <p> + “An order!” + </p> + <p> + “To pass the city gates to-night.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, stop him somebody,” groan’d Prince Rupert: “my head is whirling.” + </p> + <p> + “With your leave,” I explain’d, pouring out another glassful: “tis the + simplest matter, and one that a child could understand. You see, this + young man was kill’d, and they charg’d me with it; so away I ran, and the + Watch after me; and therefore I wish to pass the city gates. And as I may + have far to travel, and gave my last groat to a thief for hoisting me over + Master Carter’s wall—” + </p> + <p> + “A thief—my wall!” repeated Master Carter. “Oh well is thy poor + mother in her grave!” + </p> + <p> + “—Why, therefore I came for money,” I wound up, sipping the wine, + and nodding to all present. + </p> + <p> + ’Twas at this moment that, catching my eye, the Prince Maurice slapp’d his + leg, and leaning back, broke into peal after peal of laughter. And in a + moment his brother took the jest also; and there we three sat and shook, + and roar’d unquenchably round Master Carter, who, staring blankly from one + to another, sat gaping, as though the last alarm were sounding in his + ears. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! oh! oh! Hit me on the back, Maurice!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! oh! I cannot—’tis killing me—Master Carter, for pity’s + sake, look not so; but pay the lad his money.” + </p> + <p> + “Your Highness——” + </p> + <p> + “Pay it I say; pay it: ’tis fairly won.” + </p> + <p> + “Fifty pounds!” + </p> + <p> + “Every doit,” said I: “I’m sick of schooling.” + </p> + <p> + “Be hang’d if I do!” snapp’d Master Carter. + </p> + <p> + “Then be hang’d, sir, but all the town shall hear to-morrow of the frog + and the pool! No, sir: I am off to see the world—— + </p> +<div class="pre"> + “‘Says he: “This is better than moping in school!”’” + </div> + <p> + “Your Highnesses,” pleaded the unhappy man, “if, to please you, I sang + that idiocy, which, for fifty years now, I had forgotten——” + </p> + <p> + “Exc’ll’nt shong,” says Prince Rupert, waking up; “less have’t again!” + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <p> + To be short, ten o’clock was striking from St. Mary’s spire when, with a + prince on either side of me, and thirty guineas in my pocket (which was + all the loose gold he had), I walked forth from Master Carter’s door. To + make up the deficiency, their highnesses had insisted on furnishing me + with a suit made up from the simplest in their joint wardrobes—riding-boots, + breeches, buff-coat, sash, pistols, cloak, and feather’d hat, all of which + fitted me excellently well. By the doors of Christ Church, before we came + to the south gate, Prince Rupert, who had been staggering in his walk, + suddenly pull’d up, and leaned against the wall. + </p> + <p> + “Why—odd’s my life—we’ve forgot a horse for him!” he cried. + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, your Highness,” I answered, “if my luck holds the same, I shall + find one by the road.” (How true this turned out you shall presently + hear.) + </p> + <p> + There was no difficulty at the gate, where the sentry recogniz’d the two + princes and open’d the wicket at once. Long after it had clos’d behind me, + and I stood looking back at Oxford towers, all bath’d in the winter + moonlight, I heard the two voices roaring away up the street: + </p> +<div class="pre"> + “It was a frog leap’d into a pool—” + </div> + <p> + At length they died into silence; and, hugging the king’s letter in my + breast, I stepped briskly forward on my travels. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0004"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class='chapter'><h2> + CHAPTER IV. — I TAKE THE ROAD. + </h2></div> + <p> + So puffed up was I by the condescension of the two princes, and my head so + busy with big thoughts, that not till I was over the bridges and climbing + the high ground beyond South Hincksey, with a shrewd northeast wind at my + back, could I spare time for a second backward look. By this, the city lay + spread at my feet, very delicate and beautiful in a silver network, with a + black clump or two to southward, where the line of Bagley trees ran below + the hill. I pulled out the letter that Anthony had given me. In the + moonlight the brown smear of his blood was plain to see, running across + the superscription: + </p> + <p> + “<i>To our trusty and well beloved Sir Ralph Hopton, at our Army in + Cornwall—these.</i>” + </p> + <p> + ’Twas no more than I look’d for; yet the sight of it and the king’s red + seal, quicken’d my step as I set off again. And I cared not a straw for + Dr. Kettle’s wrath on the morrow. + </p> + <p> + Having no desire to fall in with any of the royal outposts that lay around + Abingdon, I fetched well away to the west, meaning to shape my course for + Faringdon, and so into the great Bath road. ’Tis not my purpose to + describe at any length my itinerary, but rather to reserve my pen for + those more moving events that overtook me later. Only in the uncertain + light I must have taken a wrong turn to the left (I think near + Besselsleigh) that led me round to the south: for, coming about daybreak + to a considerable town, I found it to be, not Faringdon, but Wantage. + There was no help for it, so I set about enquiring for a bed. The town was + full, and already astir with preparations for cattle-fair; and neither at + the “Bear” nor the “Three Nuns” was there a bed to be had. But at length + at the “Boot” tavern—a small house, I found one just vacated by a + couple of drovers, and having cozen’d the chambermaid to allow me a clean + pair of sheets, went upstairs very drowsily, and in five minutes was + sleeping sound. + </p> + <p> + I awoke amid a clatter of voices, and beheld the room full of womankind. + </p> + <p> + “He’s waking,” said one. + </p> + <p> + “Tis a pity, too, to be afflicted thus—and he such a pretty young + man!” + </p> + <p> + This came from the landlady, who stood close, her hand shaking my shoulder + roughly. + </p> + <p> + “What’s amiss?” I asked, rubbing my eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Why, ’tis three of the afternoon.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I’ll get up, as soon as you retire.” + </p> + <p> + “Lud! we’ve been trying to wake thee this hour past; but ’twas sleep—sleep!” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll get up, I tell you.” + </p> + <p> + “Thought thee’d ha’ slept through the bed and right through to the floor,” + said the chambermaid by the door, tittering. + </p> + <p> + “Unless you pack and go, I’ll step out amongst you all!” + </p> + <p> + Whereat they fled with mock squeals, calling out that the very thought + made them blush: and left me to dress. + </p> + <p> + Downstairs I found a giant’s breakfast spread for me, and ate the hole, + and felt the better for it: and thereupon paid my scot, resisting the + landlady’s endeavor to charge me double for the bed, and walked out to see + the town. + </p> + <p> + “Take care o’ thysel’,” the chambermaid bawled after me; “nor flourish thy + attainments abroad, lest they put thee in a show!” + </p> + <p> + Dark was coming on fast: and to my chagrin (for I had intended purchasing + a horse) the buying and selling of the fair were over, the cattle-pens + broken up, and the dealers gather’d round the fiddlers, ballad singers, + and gingerbread stalls. There were gaming booths, too, driving a brisk + trade at Shovel-board, All-fours, and Costly Colors; and an eating tent, + whence issued a thick reek of cooking and loud rattle of plates. Over the + entrance, I remember, was set a notice: “<i>Dame Alloway from Bartholomew + Fair. Here are the best geese, and she does them as well as ever she did</i>.” + I jostled my way along, keeping tight hold on my pockets, for fear of + cut-purses; when presently, about halfway down the street, there arose the + noise of shouting. The crowd made a rush toward it; and in a minute I was + left alone, standing before a juggler who had a sword halfway down his + throat, and had to draw it out again before he could with any sufficiency + curse the defection of his audience; but offered to pull out a tooth for + me if I wanted it. + </p> + <p> + I left him, and running after the crowd soon learn’d the cause of this + tumult. + </p> + <p> + ’Twas a meagre old rascal that someone had charged with picking pockets: + and they were dragging him off to be duck’d. Now in the heart of Wantage + the little stream that runs through the town is widen’d into a cistern + about ten feet square, and five in depth, over which hung a ducking stool + for scolding wives. And since the townspeople draw their water from this + cistern, ’tis to be supposed they do not fear the infection. A long beam + on a pivot hangs out over the pool, and to the end is a chair fasten’d; + into which, despite his kicks and screams, they now strapped this poor + wretch, whose grey locks might well have won mercy for him. + </p> + <p> + Souse! he was plunged: hauled up choking and dripping: then—just as + he found tongue to shriek—souse! again. + </p> + <p> + ’Twas a dismal punishment; and this time they kept him under for a full + half minute. But as the beam was lifted again, I heard a hullaballoo and a + cry— + </p> + <p> + “The bear! the bear!” + </p> + <p> + And turning, I saw a great brown form lumbering down the street behind, + and driving the people before it like chaff. + </p> + <p> + The crowd at the brink of the pool scatter’d to right and left, yelling. + Up flew the beam of the ducking stool, reliev’d of their weight, and down + with a splash went the pickpocket at the far end. As well for my own + skin’s sake as out of pity to see him drowning, I jumped into the water. + In two strokes I reach’d him, gained footing, and with Anthony’s sword cut + the straps away and pull’d him up. And there we stood, up to our necks, + coughing and spluttering; while on the deserted brink the bear sniff’d at + the water and regarded us. + </p> + <p> + No doubt we appear’d contemptible enough: for after a time he turned with + a louder sniff, and went his way lazily up the street again. He had broken + out from the pit wherein, for the best part of the day, they had baited + him; yet seemed to bear little malice. For he saunter’d about the town for + an hour or two, hurting no man, but making a clean sweep of every sweet + stall in his way; and was taken at last very easily, with his head in a + treacle cask, by the bear ward and a few dogs. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile the pickpocket and I had scrambled out by the further bank and + wrung our clothes. He seemed to resent his treatment no more than did the + bear. + </p> + <p> + “Ben cove—’tis a good world. My thanks!” + </p> + <p> + And with this scant gratitude he was gone, leaving me to make my way back + to the sign of “The Boot,” where the chambermaid led me upstairs, and took + away my clothes to dry by the fire. I determin’d to buy a horse on the + morrow, and with my guineas and the King’s letter under the pillow, + dropp’d off to slumber again. + </p> + <p> + My powers of sleep must have been nois’d abroad by the hostess: for next + morning at the breakfast ordinary, the dealers and drovers laid down knife + and fork to stare as I enter’d. After a while one or two lounged out and + brought in others to look: so that soon I was in a ring of stupid faces, + all gazing like so many cows. + </p> + <p> + For a while I affected to eat undisturbed: but lost patience at last and + addressed a red-headed gazer—— + </p> + <p> + “If you take me for a show, you ought to pay.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s fair,” said the fellow, and laid a groat on the board. This came + near to putting me in a passion, but his face was serious. “’Tis a real + pleasure,” he added heartily, “to look on one so gifted.” + </p> + <p> + “If any of you,” I said, “could sell me a horse——” + </p> + <p> + At once there was a clamor, all bidding in one breath for my custom. So + finishing my breakfast, I walked out with them to the tavern yard, where I + had my pick among the sorriest-looking dozen of nags in England, and + finally bought from the red-haired man, for five pounds, bridle, saddle, + and a flea-bitten grey that seem’d more honestly raw-boned than the rest. + And the owner wept tears at the parting with his beast, and thereby added + a pang to the fraud he had already put upon me. And I rode from the tavern + door suspecting laughter in the eyes of every passer-by. + </p> + <p> + The day (’twas drawing near noon as I started) was cold and clear, with a + coating of rime over the fields: and my horse’s feet rang cheerfully on + the frozen road. His pace was of the soberest: but, as I was no skilful + rider, this suited me rather than not. Only it was galling to be told so, + as happened before I had gone three miles. + </p> + <p> + ’Twas my friend the pickpocket: and he sat before a fire of dry sticks a + little way back from the road. His scanty hair, stiff as a badger’s, now + stood upright around his batter’d cap, and he look’d at me over the + bushes, with his hook’d nose thrust forward like a bird’s beak. + </p> + <p> + “Bien lightmans, comrade—good day! ’Tis a good world; so stop and + dine.” + </p> + <p> + I pull’d up my grey. + </p> + <p> + “Glad you find it so,” I answered; “you had a nigh chance to compare it + with the next, last night.” + </p> + <p> + “Shan’t do so well i’ the next, I fear,” he said with a twinkle: “but I + owe thee something, and here’s a hedgehog that in five minutes’ll be baked + to a turn. ’Tis a good world, and the better that no man can count on it. + Last night my dripping duds helped me to a cant tale, and got me a silver + penny from a man of religion. Good’s in the worst; and life’s like hunting + the squirrel—a man gets much good exercise thereat, but seldom what + he hunts for.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s as good morality as Aristotle’s,” said I. “’Tis better for + <i>me</i>, because ’tis mine.” While I tether’d my horse he blew at the + embers, wherein lay a good-sized ball of clay, baking. After a while he + look’d up with red cheeks. “They were so fast set on drowning me,” he + continued with a wink, “they couldn’t spare time to look i’ my pocket—the + ruffin cly them!” + </p> + <p> + He pull’d the clay ball out of the fire, crack’d it, and lo! inside was a + hedgehog cook’d, the spikes sticking in the clay, and coming away with it. + So he divided the flesh with his knife, and upon a slice of bread from his + wallet it made very delicate eating: tho’ I doubt if I enjoyed it as much + as did my comrade, who swore over and over that the world was good, and as + the wintry sun broke out, and the hot ashes warm’d his knees, began to + chatter at a great pace. + </p> + <p> + “Why, sir, but for the pretty uncertainty of things I’d as lief die here + as I sit——” + </p> + <p> + He broke off at the sound of wheels, and a coach with two postillions spun + past us on the road. + </p> + <p> + I had just time to catch a glimpse of a figure huddled in the corner, and + a sweet pretty girl with chestnut curls seated beside it, behind the + glass. After the coach came a heavy broad-shoulder’d servant riding on a + stout grey; who flung us a sharp glance as he went by, and at twenty + yards’ distance turn’d again to look. + </p> + <p> + “That’s luck,” observed the pickpocket, as the travelers disappear’d down + the highway: “To-morrow, with a slice of it, I might be riding in such a + coach as that, and have the hydropsy, to boot. Good lack! when I was ta’en + prisoner by the Turks a-sailing i’ the <i>Mary</i> of London, and sold for + a slave at Algiers, I escap’d, after two months, with Eli Sprat, a + Gravesend man, in a small open boat. Well, we sail’d three days and + nights, and all the time there was a small sea bird following, flying + round and round us, and calling two notes that sounded for all the world + like ‘Wind’ard! Wind’ard!’ So at last says Eli, ‘’Tis heaven’s voice + bidding us ply to wind’ard.’ And so we did, and on the fourth day made + Marseilles; and who should be first to meet Eli on the quay but a + Frenchwoman he had married five years before, and left. And the jade had + him clapp’d in the pillory, alongside of a cheating fishmonger with a + collar of stinking smelts, that turn’d poor Eli’s stomach completely. Now + there’s somewhat to set against the story of Whittington next time ’tis + told you.” + </p> + <p> + I was now for bidding the old rascal good-bye. But he offer’d to go with + me as far as Hungerford, where we should turn into the Bath road. At first + I was shy of accepting, by reason of his coat, wherein patches of blue, + orange-tawny and flame-color quite overlaid the parent black: but closed + with him upon his promise to teach me the horsemanship that I so sadly + lacked. And by time we enter’d Hungerford town I was advanced so far, and + bestrode my old grey so easily, that in gratitude I offer’d him supper and + bed at an inn, if he would but buy a new coat: to which he agreed, saying + that the world was good. + </p> + <p> + By this, the day was clouded over and the rain coming down apace. So that + as soon as my comrade was decently array’d at the first slopshop we came + to, ’twas high time to seek an inn. We found quarters at “The Horn,” and + sought the travelers’ room, and a fire to dry ourselves. + </p> + <p> + In this room, at the window, were two men who look’d lazily up at our + entrance. They were playing at a game, which was no other than to race two + snails up a pane of glass and wager which should prove the faster. + </p> + <p> + “A wet day!” said my comrade, cheerfully. + </p> + <p> + The pair regarded him. “I’ll lay you a crown it clears within the hour!” + said one. + </p> + <p> + “And I another,” put in the other; and with that they went back to their + sport. + </p> + <p> + Drawing near, I myself was soon as eager as they in watching the snails, + when my companion drew my notice to a piece of writing on the window over + which they were crawling. ’Twas a set of verses scribbled there, that must + have been scratch’d with a diamond: and to my surprise—for I had not + guess’d him a scholar—he read them out for my benefit. Thus the + writing ran, for I copied it later: + </p> + <p> + “<i>Master Ephraim Tucker</i>, his dying councell to wayfardingers; to + seek <i>The Splendid Spur</i>. + </p> +<div class="pre"> + “Not on the necks of prince or hound, + Nor on a woman’s finger twin’d, + May gold from the deriding ground + Keep sacred that we sacred bind + Only the heel + Of splendid steel + Shall stand secure on sliding fate, + When golden navies weep their freight. + + “The scarlet hat, the laurell’d stave + Are measures, not the springs, of worth; + In a wife’s lap, as in a grave, + Man’s airy notions mix with earth. + Seek other spur + Bravely to stir + The dust in this loud world, and tread + Alp-high among the whisp’ring dead. + + “<i>Trust in thyself</i>,—then spur amain: + So shall Charybdis wear a grace, + Grim Aetna laugh, the Lybian plain + Take roses to her shrivell’d face. + This orb—this round + Of sight and sound— + Count it the lists that God hath built + For haughty hearts to ride a-tilt. +</div> + <p> + “FINIS-Master Tucker’s Farewell.” + </p> + <p> + “And a very pretty moral on four gentlemen that pass their afternoon a + setting snails to race!” + </p> + <p> + At these words, spoken in a delicate foreign voice we all started round: + and saw a young lady standing behind us. + </p> + <p> + Now that she was the one who had passed us in the coach I saw at once. But + describe her—to be plain—I cannot, having tried a many times. + So let me say only that she was the prettiest creature on God’s earth + (which, I hope, will satisfy her); that she had chestnut curls and a mouth + made for laughing; that she wore a kirtle and bodice of grey silk taffety, + with a gold pomander-box hung on a chain about her neck; and held out a + drinking glass toward us with a Frenchified grace. + </p> + <p> + “Gentlemen, my father is sick, and will taste no water but what is freshly + drawn. I ask you not to brave Charybdis or Aetna, but to step out into the + rainy yard and draw me a glassful from the pump there: for our servant is + abroad in the town.” + </p> + <p> + To my deep disgust, before I could find a word, that villainous old + pickpocket had caught the glass from her hand and reached the door. But I + ran after; and out into the yard we stepp’d together, where I pump’d while + he held the glass to the spout, flinging away the contents time after + time, till the bubbles on the brim, and the film on the outside, were to + his liking. + </p> + <p> + ’Twas he, too, that gain’d the thanks on our return. + </p> + <p> + “Mistress,” said he with a bow, “my young friend is raw, but has a good + will. Confess, now, for his edification—for he is bound on a long + journey westward, where, they tell me, the maidens grow comeliest—that + looks avail naught with womankind beside a dashing manner.” + </p> + <p> + The young gentlewoman laughed, shaking her curls. + </p> + <p> + “I’ll give him in that case three better counsels yet: first (for by his + habit I see he is on the King’s side), let him take a circuit from this + place to the south, for the road between Marlboro’ and Bristol is, they + tell me, all held by the rebels; next, let him avoid all women, even tho’ + they ask but an innocent cup of water; and lastly, let him shun thee, + unless thy face lie more than thy tongue. Shall I say more?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, no—perhaps better not,” replied the old rogue hastily, but + laughing all the same. “That’s a clever lass,” he added, as the door shut + behind her. + </p> + <p> + And, indeed, I was fain, next morning, to agree to this. For, awaking, I + found my friend (who had shar’d a room with me) already up and gone, and + discovered the reason in a sheet of writing pinn’d to my clothes—— + </p> + <p> + “Young Sir,—I convict myself of ingratitude: but habit is hard to + break. So I have made off with the half of thy guineas and thy horse. The + residue, and the letter thou bearest, I leave. ’Tis a good world, and + experience should be bought early. This golden lesson I leave in return + for the guineas. Believe me, ’tis of more worth. Read over those verses on + the windowpane before starting, digest them, and trust me, thy obliged, + </p> + <p> + “Peter, The Jackman. + </p> + <p> + “Raise not thy hand so often to thy breast: ’tis a sure index of hidden + valuables.” + </p> + <p> + Be sure I was wroth enough: nor did the calm interest of the two snail + owners appease me, when at breakfast I told them a part of the story. But + I thought I read sympathy in the low price at which one of them offer’d me + his horse. ’Twas a tall black brute, very strong in the loins, and I + bought him at once out of my shrunken stock of guineas. At ten o’clock, I + set out, not along the Bath road, but bearing to the south, as the young + gentlewoman had counselled. I began to hold a high opinion of her advice. + </p> + <p> + By twelve o’clock I was back at the inn door, clamoring to see the man + that sold me the horse, which had gone dead lame after the second mile. + </p> + <p> + “Dear heart!” cried the landlord; “they are gone, the both, this hour and + a half. But they are coming again within the fortnight; and I’m expressly + to report if you return’d, as they had a wager about it.” + </p> + <p> + I turn’d away, pondering. Two days on the road had put me sadly out of + conceit with myself. For mile upon mile I trudged, dragging the horse + after me by the bridle, till my arms felt as if coming from their sockets. + I would have turn’d the brute loose, and thought myself well quit of him, + had it not been for the saddle and bridle he carried. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <p> + ’Twas about five in the evening, and I still laboring along, when, over + the low hedge to my right, a man on a sorrel mare leap’d easily as a + swallow, and alighted some ten paces or less in front of me; where he + dismounted and stood barring my path. The muzzle of his pistol was in my + face before I could lay hand to my own. + </p> + <p> + “Good evening!” said I. “You have money about you, doubtless,” + growled the man curtly, and in a voice that made me start. For by his + voice and figure in the dusk I knew him for Captain Settle: and in the + sorrel with the high white stocking I recognized the mare, Molly, that + poor Anthony Killigrew had given me almost with his last breath. + </p> + <p> + The bully did not know me, having but seen me for an instant at “The + Crown,” and then in very different attire. + </p> + <p> + “I have but a few poor coins,” I answer’d. + </p> + <p> + “Then hand ’em over.” + </p> + <p> + “Be shot if I do!” said I in a passion; and pulling out a handful from my + pocket, I dash’d them down in the road. + </p> + <p> + For a moment the Captain took his pistol from my face, and stooped to + clutch at the golden coins as they trickled and ran to right and left. The + next, I had struck out with my right fist, and down he went staggering. + His pistol dropped out of his hand and exploded between my feet. I rush’d + to Molly, caught her bridle, and leap’d on her back. ’Twas a near thing, + for the Captain was rushing toward us. But at the call of my voice the + mare gave a bound and turn’d: and down the road I was borne, light as a + feather. + </p> + <p> + A bullet whizz’d past my ear: I heard the Captain’s curse mingle with the + report: and then was out of range, and galloping through the dusk. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0005"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class='chapter'><h2> + CHAPTER V. — MY ADVENTURE AT THE “THREE CUPS.” + </h2></div> + <p> + Secure of pursuit, and full of delight in the mare’s easy motion, I must + have travelled a good six miles before the moon rose. In the frosty sky + her rays sparkled cheerfully, and by them I saw on the holsters the silver + demi-bear that I knew to be the crest of the Killigrews, having the fellow + to it engraved on my sword-hilt. So now I was certain ’twas Molly that I + bestrode: and took occasion of the light to explore the holsters and + saddle flap. + </p> + <p> + Poor Anthony’s pistols were gone—filched, no doubt, by the Captain: + but you may guess my satisfaction, when on thrusting my hand deeper, I + touched a heap of coins, and found them to be gold. + </p> + <p> + ’Twas certainly a rare bargain I had driven with Captain Settle. For the + five or six gold pieces I scatter’d on the road, I had won close on thirty + guineas, as I counted in the moonlight; not to speak of this incomparable + Molly. And I began to whistle gleefully, and taste the joke over again and + laugh to myself, as we cantered along with the north wind at our backs. + </p> + <p> + All the same, I had no relish for riding thus till morning. For the night + was chill enough to search my very bones after the heat of the late + gallop: and, moreover, I knew nothing of the road, which at this hour was + quite deserted. So that, coming at length to a tall hill with a black + ridge of pine wood standing up against the moon like a fish’s fin, I was + glad enough to note below it, and at some distance from the trees, a + window brightly lit; and pushed forward in hope of entertainment. + </p> + <p> + The building was an inn, though a sorry one. Nor, save for the lighted + window, did it wear any grace of hospitality, but thrust out a bare + shoulder upon the road, and a sign that creaked overhead and look’d for + all the world like a gallows. Round this shoulder of the house, and into + the main yard (that turn’d churlishly toward the hillside), the wind + howled like a beast in pain. I climb’d off Molly, and pressing my hat down + on my head, struck a loud rat-tat on the door. + </p> + <p> + Curiously, it opened at once; and I saw a couple of men in the lighted + passage. + </p> + <p> + “Heard the mare’s heels on the road, Cap—. Hillo! What in the + fiend’s name is this?” + </p> + <p> + Said I: “If you are he that keeps this house, I want two things of you—first, + a civil tongue, and next a bed.” + </p> + <p> + “Ye’ll get neither, then.” + </p> + <p> + “Your sign says that you keep an inn.” + </p> + <p> + “Aye—the ‘Three Cups’: but we’re full.” + </p> + <p> + “Your manner of speech proves that to be a lie.” + </p> + <p> + I liked the fellow’s voice so little that ’tis odds I would have + re-mounted Molly and ridden away; but at this instant there floated down + the stairs and out through the drink-smelling passage a sound that made me + jump. ’Twas a girl’s voice singing—— + </p> +<div class="pre"> + “Hey nonni—nonni—no! + Men are fools that wish to die! + Is’t not fine to laugh and sing + When the bells of death do ring——” + </div> + <p> + There was no doubt upon it. The voice belonged to the young gentlewoman I + had met at Hungerford. I turned sharply toward the landlord, and was met + by another surprise. The second man, that till now had stood well back in + the shadow, was peering forward, and devouring Molly with his gaze. ’Twas + hard to read his features, but then and there I would have wagered my life + he was no other than Luke Settle’s comrade, Black Dick. + </p> + <p> + My mind was made up. “I’ll not ride a step further, to-night,” said I. + “Then bide there and freeze,” answer’d the landlord. + </p> + <p> + He was for slamming the door in my face, when the other caught him by the + arm and, pulling him a little back, whisper’d a word or two. I guess’d + what this meant, but resolved not to draw back; and presently the + landlord’s voice began again, betwixt surly and polite—— + </p> + <p> + “Have ye too high a stomach to lie on straw?” + </p> + <p> + “Oho!” thought I to myself, “then I am to be kept for the mare’s sake, but + not admitted to the house:” and said aloud that I could put up with a + straw bed. + </p> + <p> + “Because there’s the stable loft at your service. As ye hear” (and in fact + the singing still went on, only now I heard a man’s voice joining in the + catch) “our house is full of company. But straw is clean bedding, and the + mare I’ll help to put in stall.” + </p> + <p> + “Agreed,” I said, “on one condition—that you send out a maid to me + with a cup of mulled sack: for this cold eats me alive.” + </p> + <p> + To this he consented: and stepping back into a side room with the other + fellow, returned in a minute alone, and carrying a lantern which, in spite + of the moon, was needed to guide a stranger across that ruinous yard. The + flare, as we pick’d our way along, fell for a moment on an open cart shed + and, within, on the gilt panels of a coach that I recogniz’d. In the + stable, that stood at the far end of the court, I was surprised to find + half a dozen horses standing, ready saddled, and munching their fill of + oats. They were ungroom’d, and one or two in a lather of sweat that on + such a night was hard to account for. But I asked no questions, and my + companion vouchsafed no talk, though twice I caught him regarding me + curiously as I unbridled the mare in the only vacant stall. Not a word + pass’d as he took the lantern off the peg again, and led the way up a + ramshackle ladder to the loft above. He was a fat, lumbering fellow, and + made the old timbers creak. At the top he set down the light, and pointed + to a heap of straw in the corner. + </p> + <p> + “Yon’s your bed,” he growled; and before I could answer, was picking his + way down the ladder again. + </p> + <p> + I look’d about, and shiver’d. The eaves of my bedchamber were scarce on + speaking terms with the walls, and through a score of crannies at least + the wind poured and whistled, so that after shifting my truss of straw a + dozen times I found myself still the centre of a whirl of draught. The + candle-flame, too, was puffed this way and that inside the horn sheath. I + was losing patience when I heard footsteps below; the ladder creak’d, and + the red hair and broad shoulders of a chambermaid rose into view. She + carried a steaming mug in her hand, and mutter’d all the while in no very + choice talk. + </p> + <p> + The wench had a kind face, tho’; and a pair of eyes that did her more + credit than her tongue. + </p> + <p> + “And what’s to be my reward for this, I want to know?” she panted out, + resting her left palm on her hip. + </p> + <p> + “Why, a groat or two,” said I, “when it comes to the reckoning.” + </p> + <p> + “Lud!” she cried, “what a dull young man!” + </p> + <p> + “Dull?” + </p> + <p> + “Aye—to make me ask for a kiss in so many words:” and with the back + of her left hand she wiped her mouth for it frankly, while she held out + the mug in her right. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” I said, “I beg your pardon, but my wits are frozen up, I think. + There’s two, for interest: and another if you tell me whom your master + entertains to-night, that I must be content with this crib.” + </p> + <p> + She took the kisses with composure and said— + </p> + <p> + “Well—to begin, there’s the gentlefolk that came this afternoon with + their own carriage and heathenish French servant: a cranky old grandee and + a daughter with more airs than a peacock: Sir Something-or-other Killigew—Lord + bless the boy!” + </p> + <p> + For I had dropp’d the mug and spilt the hot sack all about the straw, + where it trickled away with a fragrance reproachfully delicious. + </p> + <p> + “Now I beg your pardon a hundred times: but the chill is in my bones worse + than the ague;” and huddling my shoulders up, I counterfeited a shivering + fit with a truthfulness that surpris’d myself. + </p> + <p> + “Poor lad!” + </p> + <p> + “—And ’tis first hot and then cold all down my spine.” + </p> + <p> + “There, now!” + </p> + <p> + “-And goose flesh and flushes all over my body.” + </p> + <p> + “Dear heart-and to pass the night in this grave of a place!” + </p> + <p> + “—And by morning I shall be in a high fever: and oh! I feel I shall + die of it!” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t—don’t!” The honest girl’s eyes were full of tears. “I wonder, + now—” she began: and I waited, eager for her next words. “Sure, + master’s at cards in the parlor, and ’ll be drunk by midnight. Shalt pass + the night by the kitchen fire, if only thou make no noise.” + </p> + <p> + “But your mistress—what will she say?” + </p> + <p> + “Is in heaven these two years: and out of master’s speaking distance + forever. So blow out the light and follow me gently.” + </p> + <p> + Still feigning to shiver, I follow’d her down the ladder, and through the + stable into the open. The wind by this time had brought up some heavy + clouds, and mass’d them about the moon: but ’twas freezing hard, + nevertheless. The girl took me by the hand to guide me: for, save from the + one bright window in the upper floor, there was no light at all in the + yard. Clearly, she was in dread of her master’s anger, for we stole across + like ghosts, and once or twice she whisper’d a warning when my toe kick’d + against a loose cobble. But just as I seem’d to be walking into a stone + wall, she put out her hand, I heard the click of a latch, and stood in a + dark, narrow passage. + </p> + <p> + The passage led to a second door that open’d on a wide, stone-pav’d + kitchen, lit by a cheerful fire, whereon a kettle hissed and bubbled as + the vapor lifted the cover. Close by the chimney corner was a sort of + trap, or buttery hatch, for pushing the hot dishes conveniently into the + parlor on the other side of the wall. Besides this, for furniture, the + room held a broad deal table, an oak dresser, a linen press, a rack with + hams and strings of onions depending from it, a settle and a chair or two, + with (for decoration) a dozen or so of ballad sheets stuck among the dish + covers along the wall. + </p> + <p> + “Sit,” whisper’d the girl, “and make no noise, while I brew a rack-punch + for the men-folk in the parlor.” She jerked her thumb toward the buttery + hatch, where I had already caught the mur-mer of voices. + </p> + <p> + I took up a chair softly, and set it down between the hatch and the + fireplace, so that while warming my knees I could catch any word spoken + more than ordinary loud on the other side of the wall. The chambermaid + stirr’d the fire briskly, and moved about singing as she fetch’d down + bottles and glasses from the dresser—— + </p> +<div class="pre"> + “Lament ye maids an’ darters + For constant Sarah Ann, + Who hang’d hersel’ in her garters + All for the love o’ man, + All for the—” + </div> + <p> + She was pausing, bottle in hand, to take the high note: but hush’d + suddenly at the sound of the voices singing in the room upstairs— + </p> +<div class="pre"> + “Vivre en tout cas + C’est le grand soulas + Des honnetes gens!” + </div> + <p> + “That’s the foreigners,” said the chambermaid, and went on with her ditty—— + </p> +<div class="pre"> + “All for the love of a souljer + Who christening name was Jan.” + </div> + <p> + A volley of oaths sounded through the buttery hatch. + </p> + <p> + “—And that’s the true-born Englishmen, as you may tell by their + speech. ’Tis pretty company the master keeps, these days.” + </p> + <p> + She was continuing her song, when I held up a finger for silence. In fact, + through the hatch my ear had caught a sentence that set me listening for + more with a still heart. + </p> + <p> + “D—n the Captain,” the landlord’s gruff voice was saying; “I warn’d + ’n agen this fancy business when sober, cool-handed work was toward.” + </p> + <p> + “Settle’s way from his cradle,” growl’d another; “and times enough I’ve + told ’n: ‘Cap’n,’ says I, ‘there’s no sense o’ proportions about ye.’ A + master mind, sirs, but ’a ’ll be hang’d for a hen-roost, so sure as my + name’s Bill Widdicomb.” + </p> + <p> + “Ugly words-what a creeping influence has that same mention o’ hanging!” + piped a thinner voice. + </p> + <p> + “Hold thy complaints, Old Mortification,” put in a speaker that I + recogniz’d for Black Dick; “sure the pretty maid upstairs is tender game. + Hark how they sing!” + </p> + <p> + And indeed the threatened folk upstairs were singing their catch very + choicely, with a girl’s clear voice to lead them— + </p> +<div class="pre"> + “Comment dit papa + —Margoton, ma mie?” + </div> + <p> + “Heathen language, to be sure,” said the thin voice again, as the chorus + ceased: “thinks I to mysel’ ‘they be but Papisters,’ an’ my doubting mind + is mightily reconcil’d to manslaughter.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t like beginning ’ithout the Cap’n,” observed Black Dick: “though I + doubt something has miscarried. Else, how did that young spark ride in + upon the mare?” + </p> + <p> + “An’ that’s what thy question should ha’ been, Dick, with a pistol to his + skull.” + </p> + <p> + “He’ll keep till the morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “We’ll give Settle half-an-hour more,” said the landlord: “Mary!” he + push’d open the hatch, so that I had barely time to duck my head out of + view, “fetch in the punch, girl. How did’st leave the young man i’ the + loft?’ + </p> + <p> + “Asleep, or nearly,” answer’d Mary— + </p> +<div class="pre"> + “Who hang’d hersel’ in her gar-ters, + All for the love o’ man—” + </div> + <p> + “—Anon, anon, master: wait only till I get the kettle on the boil.” + </p> + <p> + The hatch was slipp’d to again. I stood up and made a step toward the + girl. + </p> + <p> + “How many are they?” I ask’d, jerking a finger in the direction of the + parlor. + </p> + <p> + “A dozen all but one.” + </p> + <p> + “Where is the foreign guests’ room?” + </p> + <p> + “Left hand, on the first landing.” + </p> + <p> + “The staircase?” + </p> + <p> + “Just outside the door.” + </p> + <p> + “Then sing—go on singing for your life.” + </p> + <p> + “But—” + </p> + <p> + “Sing!” + </p> + <p> + “Dear heart, they’ll murder thee! Oh! for pity’s sake, let go my wrist— + </p> +<div class="pre"> + “‘Lament, ye maids an’ darters—’” + </div> + <p> + I stole to the door and peep’d out. A lantern hung in the passage, and + showed the staircase directly in front of me. I stay’d for a moment to + pull off my boots, and, holding them in my left hand, crept up the stairs. + In the kitchen, the girl was singing and clattering the glasses together. + Behind the door, at the head of the stairs, I heard voices talking. I + slipp’d on my boots again and tapp’d on the panel. + </p> + <p> + “Come in!” + </p> + <p> + Let me try to describe that on which my eyes rested as I push’d the door + wide. ’Twas a long room, wainscoted half up the wall in some dark wood, + and in daytime lit by one window only, which now was hung with red + curtains. By the fireplace, where a brisk wood fire was crackling, lean’d + the young gentlewoman I had met at Hungerford, who, as she now turn’d her + eyes upon me, ceas’d fingering the guitar or mandoline that she held + against her waist, and raised her pretty head not without curiosity. + </p> + <p> + But ’twas on the table in the centre of the chamber that my gaze settled; + and on two men beside it, of whom I must speak more particularly. + </p> + <p> + The elder, who sat in a high-back’d chair, was a little, frail, deform’d + gentleman of about fifty, dress’d very richly in dark velvet and furs, and + wore on his head a velvet skullcap, round which his white hair stuck up + like a ferret’s. But the oddest thing about him was a complexion that any + maid of sixteen would give her ears for—of a pink and white so + transparent that it seem’d a soft light must be glowing beneath his skin. + On either cheek bone this delicate coloring centred in a deeper flush. + This is as much as I need say about his appearance, except that his eyes + were very bright and sharp, and his chin stuck out like a vicious mule’s. + </p> + <p> + The table before him was cover’d with bottles and flasks, in the middle of + which stood a silver lamp burning, and over it a silver saucepan that sent + up a rare fragrance as the liquid within it simmer’d and bubbled. So eager + was the old gentleman in watching the progress of his mixture, that he + merely glanc’d up at my entrance, and then, holding up a hand for silence, + turn’d his eyes on the saucepan again. + </p> + <p> + The second man was the broad-shouldered lackey I had seen riding behind + the coach: and now stood over the saucepan with a twisted flask in his + hand, from which he pour’d a red syrup very gingerly, drop by drop, with + the tail of his eye turn’d on his master’s face, that he might know when + to cease. + </p> + <p> + Now it may be that my entrance upset this experiment in strong drinks. At + any rate, I had scarce come to a stand about three paces inside the door, + when the little old gentleman bounces up in a fury, kicks over his chair, + hurls the nearest bottles to right and left, and sends the silver saucepan + spinning across the table to my very feet, where it scalded me clean + through the boot, and made me hop for pain. + </p> + <p> + “Spoil’d—spoil’d!” he scream’d: “drench’d in filthy liquor, when it + should have breath’d but a taste!” + </p> + <p> + And, to my amazement, he sprang on the strapping servant like a wild-cat, + and began to beat, cuff, and belabor him with all the strength of his puny + limbs. + </p> + <p> + ’Twas like a scene out of Bedlam. Yet all the while the girl lean’d + quietly against the mantelshelf, and softly touched the strings of her + instrument; while the servant took the rain of blows and slaps as though + ’twere a summer shower, grinning all over his face, and making no + resistance at all. + </p> + <p> + Then, as I stood dumb with perplexity, the old gentleman let go his hold + of the fellow’s hair, and, dropping on the floor, began to roll about in a + fit of coughing, the like of which no man can imagine. ’Twas hideous. He + bark’d, and writhed, and bark’d again, till the disorder seem’d to search + and rack every innermost inch of his small frame. And in the intervals of + coughing his exclamations were terrible to listen to. + </p> + <p> + “He’s dying!” I cried; and ran forward to help. + </p> + <p> + The servant pick’d up the chair, and together we set him in it. By degrees + the violence of the cough abated, and he lay back, livid in the face, with + his eyes closed, and his hands clutching the knobs of the chair. I turn’d + to the girl. She had neither spoken nor stirr’d, but now came forward, and + calmly ask’d my business. + </p> + <p> + “I think,” said I, “that your name is Killigrew?” + </p> + <p> + “I am Delia Killigrew, and this is my father, Sir Deakin.” + </p> + <p> + “Now on his way to visit his estates in Cornwall?” + </p> + <p> + She nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Then I have to warn you that your lives are in danger.” And, gently as + possible, I told her what I had seen and heard downstairs. In the middle + of my tale, the servant stepp’d to the door, and return’d quietly. There + was no lock on the inside. After a minute he went across, and drew the red + curtains. The window had a grating within, of iron bars as thick as a + man’s thumb, strongly clamp’d in the stonework, and not four inches apart. + Clearly, he was a man of few words; for, returning, he merely pull’d out + his sword, and waited for the end of my tale. + </p> + <p> + The girl, also, did not interrupt me, but listen’d in silence. As I + ceas’d, she said—— + </p> + <p> + “Is this all you know?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” answer’d I, “it is not. But the rest I promise to tell you if we + escape from this place alive. Will this content you?” + </p> + <p> + She turn’d to the servant, who nodded. Whereupon she held out her hand + very cordially. + </p> + <p> + “Sir, listen: we are travelers bound for Cornwall, as you know, and have + some small possessions, that will poorly reward the greed of these violent + men. Nevertheless, we should be hurrying on our journey did we not await + my brother Anthony, who was to have ridden from Oxford to join us here, + but has been delayed, doubtless on the King’s business——” + </p> + <p> + She broke off, as I started: for below I heard the main door open, and + Captain Settle’s voice in the passage. The arch villain had return’d. + </p> + <p> + “Mistress Delia,” I said hurriedly, “the twelfth man has enter’d the + house, and unless we consider our plans at once, all’s up with us.” + </p> + <p> + “Tush!” said the old gentleman in the chair, who (it seems) had heard all, + and now sat up brisk as ever. “I, for my part shall mix another glass, and + leave it all to Jacques. Come, sit by me, sir, and you shall see some + pretty play. Why, Jacques is the neatest rogue with a small sword in all + France!” + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” I put in, “they are a round dozen in all, and your life at present + is not worth a penny’s purchase.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s a lie! ’Tis worth this bowl before me, that, with or without you, + I mean to empty. What a fool thing is youth! Sir, you must be a dying man + like myself to taste life properly.” And, as I am a truthful man, he + struck up quavering merrily— + </p> +<div class="pre"> + “Hey, nonni—nonni—no! + Men are fools that wish to die! + Is’t not fine to laugh and sing + When the bells of death do ring? + Is’t not fine to drown in wine, + And turn upon the toe, + And sing, hey—nonni—no? + Hey, nonni—nonni—” + </div> + <p> + “—Come and sit, sir, nor spoil sport. You are too raw, I’ll wager, + to be of any help; and boggling I detest.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, sir,” I broke in, now thoroughly anger’d, “I can use the small + sword as well as another.” + </p> + <p> + “Tush! Try him, Jacques.” + </p> + <p> + Jacques, still wearing a stolid face, brought his weapon to the guard. + Stung to the quick, I wheel’d round, and made a lunge or two, that he put + aside as easily as though I were a babe. And then—I know not how it + happened, but my sword slipp’d like ice out of my grasp, and went flying + across the room. Jacques, sedately as on a matter of business, stepp’d to + pick it up, while the old gentleman chuckled. + </p> + <p> + I was hot and asham’d, and a score of bitter words sprang to my + tongue-tip, when the Frenchman, as he rose from stooping, caught my eye, + and beckon’d me across to him. + </p> + <p> + He was white as death, and pointed to the hilt of my sword and the + demi-bear engrav’d thereon. + </p> + <p> + “He is dead,” I whisper’d: “hush!—turn your face aside—killed + by those same dogs that are now below.” + </p> + <p> + I heard a sob in the true fellow’s throat. But on the instant it was + drown’d by the sound of a door opening and the tramp of feet on the + stairs. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0006"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class='chapter'><h2> + CHAPTER VI. — THE FLIGHT IN THE PINE WOOD. + </h2></div> + <p> + By the sound of their steps I guess’d one or two of these dozen rascals to + be pretty far gone in drink, and afterward found this to be the case. I + look’d round. Sir Deakin had pick’d up the lamp and was mixing his bowl of + punch, humming to himself without the least concern—— + </p> +<div class="pre"> + “Vivre en tout cas + C’est le grand soulas”— +</div> + <p> + with a glance at his daughter’s face, that was white to the lips, but + firmly set. + </p> + <p> + “Hand me the nutmeg yonder,” he said, and then, “why, daughter, what’s + this?—a trembling hand?” + </p> + <p> + And all the while the footsteps were coming up. + </p> + <p> + There was a loud knock on the door. + </p> + <p> + “Come in!” call’d Sir Deakin. + </p> + <p> + At this, Jacques, who stood ready for battle by the entrance, wheeled + round, shot a look at his master, and dropping his point, made a sign to + me to do the same. The door was thrust rudely open, and Captain Settle, + his hat cock’d over one eye, and sham drunkenness in his gait, lurched + into the room, with the whole villainous crew behind him, huddled on the + threshold. Jacques and I stepp’d quietly back, so as to cover the girl. + </p> + <p> + [Illustration: The door was thrust rudely open.—Page 88.] + </p> + <p> + “Would you mind waiting a moment?” inquir’d Sir Deakin, without looking + up, but rubbing the nutmeg calmly up and down the grater: “a fraction too + much, and the whole punch will be spoil’d.” + </p> + <p> + It took the Captain aback, and he came to a stand, eyeing us, who look’d + back at him without saying a word. And this discomposed him still further. + </p> + <p> + There was a minute during which the two parties could hear each other’s + breathing. Sir Deakin set down the nutmeg, wiped his thin white fingers on + a napkin, and address’d the Captain sweetly— + </p> + <p> + “Before asking your business, sir, I would beg you and your company to + taste this liquor, which, in the court of France”—the old gentleman + took a sip from the mixing ladle—“has had the extreme honor to be + pronounced divine.” He smack’d his lips, and rising to his feet, let his + right hand rest on the silver foot of the lamp as he bowed to the Captain. + </p> + <p> + Captain Settle’s bravado was plainly oozing away before this polite + audacity: and seeing Sir Deakin taste the punch, he pull’d off his cap in + a shamefaced manner and sat down by the table with a word of thanks. + </p> + <p> + “Come in, sirs—come in!” call’d the old gentleman; “and follow your + friend’s example. ’Twill be a compliment to make me mix another bowl when + this is finish’d.” He stepped around the table to welcome them, still + resting his hand on the lamp, as if for steadiness. I saw his eye twinkle + as they shuffled in and stood around the chair where the Captain was + seated. + </p> + <p> + “Jacques, bring glasses from the cupboard yonder! And, Delia, fetch up + some chairs for our guests—no, sirs, pray do not move!” + </p> + <p> + He had waved his hand lightly to the door as he turned to us: and in an + instant the intention as well as the bright success of this comedy flash’d + upon me. There was now no one between us and the stairs, and as for Sir + Deakin himself, he had already taken the step of putting the table’s width + between him and his guests. + </p> + <p> + I touch’d the girl’s arm, and we made as if to fetch a couple of chairs + that stood against the wainscot by the door. As we did so, Sir Deakin + push’d the punch bowl forward under the Captain’s nose. + </p> + <p> + “Smell, sir,” he cried airily, “and report to your friends on the + foretaste.” + </p> + <p> + Settle’s nose hung over the steaming compound. With a swift pass of the + hand, the old gentleman caught up the lamp and had shaken a drop of + burning oil into the bowl. A great blaze leap’d to the ceiling. There was + a howl—a scream of pain; and as I push’d Mistress Delia through the + doorway and out to the head of the stairs, I caught a backward glimpse of + Sir Deakin rushing after us, with one of the stoutest among the robbers at + his heels. + </p> + <p> + “Downstairs, for your life!” I whisper’d to the girl, and turning, as her + father tumbled past me, let his pursuer run on my sword, as on a spit. At + the same instant, another blade pass’d through the fellow transversely, + and Jacques stood beside me, with his back to the lintel. + </p> + <p> + As we pull’d our swords out and the man dropp’d, I had a brief view into + the room, where now the blazing liquid ran off the table in a stream. + Settle, stamping with agony, had his palms press’d against his scorch’d + eyelids. The fat landlord, in trying to beat out the flames, had increased + them by upsetting two bottles of aqua vitae, and was dancing about with + three fingers in his mouth. The rest stood for the most part + dumbfounder’d: but Black Dick had his pistol lifted. + </p> + <p> + Jacques and I sprang out for the landing and round the doorway. Between + the flash and the report I felt a sudden scrape, as of a red-hot wire, + across my left thigh and just above the knee. + </p> + <p> + “Tenez, camarade,” said Jacques’ voice in my ear; “a moi la porte—a + vous le maitre, la-bas:” and he pointed down the staircase, where, by the + glare of the conflagration that beat past us, I saw the figures of Sir + Deakin and his daughter standing. + </p> + <p> + “But how can you keep the door against a dozen?” + </p> + <p> + The Frenchman shrugg’d his shoulders with a smile— + </p> + <p> + “Mais-comme ca!” + </p> + <p> + For at this moment came a rush of footsteps within the room. I saw a fat + paunch thrusting past us, a quiet pass of steel, and the landlord was + wallowing on his face across the threshold. Jacques’ teeth snapp’d + together as he stood ready for another victim: and as the fellows within + the room tumbled back, he motion’d me to leave him. + </p> + <p> + I sprang from his side, and catching the rail of the staircase, reach’d + the foot in a couple of bounds. + </p> + <p> + “Hurry!” I cried, and caught the old baronet by the hand. His daughter + took the other, and between us we hurried him across the passage for the + kitchen door. + </p> + <p> + Within, the chambermaid was on her knees by the settle, her face and apron + of the same hue. I saw she was incapable of helping, and hasten’d across + the stone floor, and out toward the back entrance. + </p> + <p> + A stream of icy wind blew in our faces as we stepp’d over the threshold. + The girl and I bent our heads to it, and stumbling, tripping, and panting, + pull’d Sir Deakin with us out into the cold air. + </p> + <p> + The yard was no longer dark. In the room above someone had push’d the + casement open, letting in the wind: and by this ’twas very evident the + room was on fire. Indeed, the curtains had caught, and as we ran, a pennon + of flame shot out over our heads, licking the thatch. In the glare of it + the outbuildings and the yard gate stood clearly out from the night. I + heard the trampling of feet, the sound of Settle’s voice shouting an + order, and then a dismal yell and clash of steel as we flung open the + gate. + </p> + <p> + “Jacques!” scream’d the old gentleman: “my poor Jacques! Those dogs will + mangle him with their cut and thrust—” + </p> + <p> + ’Twas very singular and sad, but as if in answer to Sir Deakin’s cry, we + heard the brave fellow’s voice; and a famous shout it must have been to + reach us over the roaring of the flames— + </p> + <p> + “Mon maitre-mon maitre!” he call’d twice, and then “Sauve toi!” in a + fainter voice, yet clear. And after that only a racket of shouts and + outcries reach’d us. Without doubt the villains had overpower’d and slain + this brave servant. In spite of our peril (for they would be after us at + once), ’twas all we could do to drag the old man from the gate and up the + road: and as he went he wept like a child. + </p> + <p> + After about fifty yards, we turn’d in at a gate, and began to cut across a + field: for I hop’d thus not only to baffle pursuit for a while, but also + to gain the wood that we saw dimly ahead. It reach’d to the top of the + hill, and I knew not how far beyond: and as I was reflecting that there + lay our chance of safety, I heard the inn door below burst open with loud + cries, and the sound of footsteps running up the road after us. + </p> + <p> + Moreover, to complete our fix, the clouds that had been scurrying across + the moon’s face, now for a minute left a clear interval of sky about her: + so that right in our course there lay a great patch brilliantly lit, + whereon our figures could be spied at once by anyone glancing into the + field. Also, it grew evident that Sir Deakin’s late agility was but a + short and sudden triumph of will over body: for his poor crooked legs + began to trail and lag sadly. So turning sharp about, we struck for the + hedge’s shadow, and there pull’d him down in a dry ditch, and lay with a + hand on his mouth to stifle his ejaculations, while we ourselves held our + breathing. + </p> + <p> + The runners came up the road, pausing for a moment by the gate. I heard it + creak, and saw two or three dark forms enter the field—the remainder + tearing on up the road with a great clatter of boots. + </p> + <p> + “Alas, my poor Jacques!” moan’d Sir Deakin: “and to be butcher’d so, that + never in his days kill’d a man but as if he lov’d him!” + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” I whisper’d harshly, “if you keep this noise I must gag you.” And + with that he was silent for awhile. + </p> + <p> + There was a thick tangle of brambles in the ditch where we lay: and to + this we owe our lives. For one of the men, coming our way, pass’d within + two yards of us, with the flat of his sword beating the growth over our + heads. + </p> + <p> + “Reu-ben! Reuben Gedges!” call’d a voice by the gate. + </p> + <p> + The fellow turn’d; and peeping between the bramble twigs, I saw the + moonlight glittering on his blade. A narrow, light-hair’d man he was, with + a weak chin: and since then I have paid him out for the fright he gave us. + </p> + <p> + “What’s the coil?” he shouted back. + </p> + <p> + “The stable roofs ablaze—for the Lord’s sake come and save the + hosses!” + </p> + <p> + He strode back, and in a minute the field was clear. Creeping out with + caution, I grew aware of two mournful facts: first, that the stable was + indeed afire, as I perceiv’d by standing on tiptoe and looking over the + hedge; and second, that my knee was hurt by Black Dick’s bullet. The + muscles had stiffened while we were crouching, and now pain’d me badly. + Yet I kept it to myself as we started off again to run. + </p> + <p> + But at the stile that, at the top of the field, led into the woods, I + pull’d up— + </p> + <p> + “Sorry I am to say it, but you must go on without me.” + </p> + <p> + “O—oh!” cried the girl. + </p> + <p> + “’Tis for your safety. See, I leave a trail of blood behind me, so that + when day rises they will track us easily.” + </p> + <p> + And sure enough, even by the moon, ’twas easy to trace the dark spots on + the grass and earth beside the stile. My left boot, too, was full of + blood. + </p> + <p> + She was silent for awhile. Down in the valley we could hear the screams of + the poor horses. The light of the flames lit up the pine trunks about us + to a bright scarlet. + </p> + <p> + “Sir, you hold our gratitude cheaply.” + </p> + <p> + She unwound the kerchief from her neck, and making me sit on the stile, + bound up my knee skillfully, twisting a short stick in the bandage to stop + the bleeding. + </p> + <p> + I thank’d her, and we hurried on into the depths of the wood, treading + silently on the deep carpet of pine needles. The ground rose steeply all + the way: and all the way, tho’ the light grew feebler, the roar and + outcries in the valley follow’d us. + </p> + <p> + Toward the hill’s summit the trees were sparser. Looking upward, I saw + that the sky had grown thickly overcast. We cross’d the ridge, and after a + minute or so were in thick cover again. + </p> + <p> + ’Twas here that Sir Deakin’s strength gave out. Almost without warning, he + sank down between our hands, and in a second was taken with that hateful + cough, that once already this night had frightened me for his life. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, ah!” he groaned, between the spasms, “I’m not fit—I’m not fit + for it!” and was taken again, and roll’d about barking, so that I fear’d + the sound would bring all Settle’s gang on our heels. “I’m not fit for + it!” he repeated, as the cough left him, and he lay back helpless, among + the pine needles. + </p> + <p> + Now, I understood his words to bear on his unfitness for death, and judg’d + them very decent and properly spoken: and took occasion to hint this in my + attempts to console him. + </p> + <p> + “Why, bless the boy!” he cried, sitting up and staring, “for what d’ye + think I’m unsuited?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, to die, sir—to be sure!” + </p> + <p> + “Holy Mother!” he regarded me with surprise, contempt and pity, all + together: “was ever such a dunderhead! If ever man were fit to die, I am + he—and that’s just my reasonable complaint. Heart alive! ’tis unfit + to <i>live</i> I am, tied to this absurd body!” + </p> + <p> + I suppose my attitude express’d my lack of comprehension, for he lifted a + finger and went on— + </p> + <p> + “Tell me—can you eat beef, and drink beer, and enjoy them?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes.” + </p> + <p> + “And fight—hey? and kiss a pretty girl, and be glad you’ve done it? + Dear, dear, how I do hate a fool and a fool’s pity! Lift me up and carry + me a step. This night’s work has kill’d me: I feel it in my lungs. ’Tis a + pity, too; for I was just beginning to enjoy it.” + </p> + <p> + I lifted him as I would a babe, and off we set again, my teeth shutting + tight on the pain of my hurt. And presently, coming to a little dingle, + about half a mile down the hillside, well hid with dead bracken and + blackberry bushes, I consulted with the girl. The place was well shelter’d + from the wind that rock’d the treetops, and I fear’d to go much further, + for we might come on open country at any moment and so double our peril. + It seem’d best, therefore, to lay the old gentleman snugly in the bottom + of this dingle and wait for day. And with my buff-coat, and a heap of + dried leaves, I made him fairly easy, reserving my cloak to wrap about + Mistress Delia’s fair neck and shoulders. But against this at first she + protested. + </p> + <p> + “For how are you to manage?” she ask’d. + </p> + <p> + “I shall tramp up and down, and keep watch,” answer’d I, strewing a couch + for her beside her father: “and ’tis but fair exchange for the kerchief + you gave me from your own throat.” + </p> + <p> + At last I persuaded her, and she crept close to her father, and under the + edge of the buff-coat for warmth. There was abundance of dry bracken in + the dingle, and with this and some handfuls of pine needles, I cover’d + them over, and left them to find what sleep they might. + </p> + <p> + For two hours and more after this, I hobbled to and fro near them, as well + as my wound would allow, looking up at the sky through the pine tops, and + listening to the sobbing of the wind. Now and then I would swing my arms + for warmth, and breathe on my fingers, that were sorely benumb’d; and all + the while kept my ears on the alert, but heard nothing. + </p> + <p> + ’Twas, as I said, something over two hours after, that I felt a soft cold + touch, and then another, like kisses on my forehead. I put up my hand, and + looked up again at the sky. As I did so, the girl gave a long sigh, and + awoke from her doze— + </p> + <p> + “Sure, I must have dropp’d asleep,” she said, opening her eyes, and spying + my shadow above her: “has aught happened?” + </p> + <p> + “Aye,” replied I, “something is happening that will wipe out our traces + and my bloody track.” + </p> + <p> + “And what is that?” + </p> + <p> + “Snow: see, ’tis falling fast.” + </p> + <p> + She bent over, and listen’d to her father’s breathing. + </p> + <p> + “’Twill kill him,” she said simply. + </p> + <p> + I pull’d some more fronds of the bracken to cover them both. She thank’d + me, and offer’d to relieve me in my watch: which I refus’d. And indeed, by + lying down I should have caught my death, very likely. + </p> + <p> + The big flakes drifted down between the pines: till, as the moon paled, + the ground about me was carpeted all in white, with the foliage black as + ink above it. Time after time, as I tramp’d to and fro, I paus’d to brush + the fresh-forming heap from the sleepers’ coverlet, and shake it gently + from the tresses of the girl’s hair. The old man’s face was covered + completely by the buff-coat: but his breathing was calm and regular as any + child’s. + </p> + <p> + Day dawn’d. Awaking Mistress Delia, I ask’d her to keep watch for a time, + while I went off to explore. She crept out from her bed with a little + shiver of disgust. + </p> + <p> + “Run about,” I advis’d, “and keep the blood stirring.” + </p> + <p> + She nodded: and looking back, as I strode down the hill, I saw her moving + about quickly, swinging her arms, and only pausing to wave a hand to me + for goodspeed. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <p> + ’Twas an hour before I return’d: and plenty I had to tell. Only at the + entrance to the dingle the words failed from off my tongue. The old + gentleman lay as he had lain throughout the night. But the bracken had + been toss’d aside, and the girl was kneeling over him. I drew near, my + step not arousing her. Sir Deakin’s face was pale and calm: but on the + snow that had gather’d by his head, lay a red streak of blood. ’Twas from + his lungs, and he was quite dead. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0007"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class='chapter'><h2> + CHAPTER VII. — I FIND A COMRADE. + </h2></div> + <h3> + But I must go back a little and tell you what befell in my expedition. + </h3> + <p> + I had scarce trudged out of sight of my friends, down the hill, when it + struck me that my footprints in the snow were in the last degree dangerous + to them, and might lead Settle and his crew straight to the dingle. Here + was a fix. I stood for some minutes nonpluss’d, when above the stillness + of the wood (for the wind had dropp’d) a faint sound as of running water + caught my ear, and help’d me to an idea. + </p> + <p> + The sound seem’d to come from my left. Turning aside I made across the + hill toward it, and after two hundred paces or so came on a tiny brook, + not two feet across, that gush’d down the slope with a quite considerable + chatter and impatience. The bed of it was mainly earth, with here and + there a large stone or root to catch the toe: so that, as I stepped into + the water and began to thread my way down between the banks of snow, ’twas + necessary to look carefully to my steps. + </p> + <p> + Here and there the brook fetch’d a leap down a sharper declivity, or shot + over a hanging stone: but, save for the wetting I took in these places, my + progress was easy enough. I must have waded in this manner for half a + mile, keeping the least possible noise, when at an angle ahead I spied a + clearing among the pines, and to the right of the stream, on the very + verge, a hut of logs standing, with a wood rick behind it. + </p> + <p> + ’Twas a low building, but somewhat long, and I guess’d it to be, in summer + time, a habitation for the woodcutters. But what surpris’d me was to hear + a dull, moaning noise, very regular and disquieting, that sounded from the + interior of the hut. I listen’d, and hit on the explication. ’Twas the + sound of snoring. + </p> + <p> + Drawing nearer with caution, I noticed, in that end of the hut which stood + over the stream, a gap, or window hole. The sound issued through this like + the whirring of a dozen looms. “He must be an astonishing fellow,” thought + I, “that can snore in this fashion. I’ll have a peep before I wake him.” I + waded down till I stood under the sill, put both hands upon it, and + pulling myself up quiet as a mouse, stuck my face in at the window—and + then very nearly sat back into the brook for fright. + </p> + <p> + For I had gazed straight down into the upturn’d faces of Captain Settle + and his gang. + </p> + <p> + How long I stood there, with the water rushing past my ankles and my body + turning from cold to hot, and back again, I cannot tell you. But ’twas + until, hearing no pause in the sleepers’ chorus, I found courage for + another peep: and that must have been some time. + </p> + <p> + There were but six rascals beside the Captain (so that Jacques must have + died hard, thought I), and such a raffle of arms and legs and swollen + up-turn’d faces as they made I defy you to picture. For they were pack’d + close as herrings; and the hut was fill’d up with their horses, ready + saddled, and rubbing shoulder to loin, so narrow was the room. It needed + the open window to give them air: and even so, ’twas not over-fresh + inside. + </p> + <p> + I had no mind to stay: but before leaving found myself in the way of + playing these villains a pretty trick. To right and left of the window, + above their heads, extended two rude shelves that now were heap’d with + what I conjectured to be the spoils of the larder of the “Three Cups.” + Holding my breath and thrusting my head and shoulders into the room, I ran + my hand along and was quickly possess’d of a boil’d ham, two capons, a + loaf, the half of a cold pie, and a basket holding three dozen eggs. All + these prizes I filched one by one, with infinite caution. + </p> + <p> + I was gently pulling the basket through the window hole, when I heard one + of the crew yawn and stretch himself in his sleep. So, determining to risk + no more, I quietly pack’d the basket, slung it on my right arm, and with + the ham grasp’d by the knuckle in my left, made my way up the stream. + </p> + <p> + ’Twas thus laden that I enter’d the dingle, and came on the sad sight + therein. I set down the ham as a thing to be asham’d of, and bar’d my + head. The girl lifted her face, and turning, all white and tragical, saw + me. + </p> + <p> + “My father is dead, sir.” + </p> + <p> + I stoop’d and pil’d a heap of fresh snow over the blood stains. There was + no intent in this but to hide the pity that chok’d me. She had still to + hear about her brother, Anthony. Turning, as by a sudden thought, I took + her hand. She look’d into my eyes, and her own filled with tears. ’Twas + the human touch that loosen’d their flow, I think: and sinking down again + beside her father, she wept her fill. + </p> + <p> + “Mistress Killigrew,” I said, as soon as the first violence of her tears + was abated, “I have still some news that is ill hearing. Your enemies are + encamp’d in the woods, about a half mile below this”—and with that I + told my story. + </p> + <p> + “They have done their worst, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + She looked at me with a question on her lip. + </p> + <p> + Said I, “you must believe me yet a short while without questioning.” + </p> + <p> + Considering for a moment, she nodded. “You have a right, sir, to be + trusted, tho’ I know not so much as your name. Then we must stay close in + hiding?” she added very sensibly, tho’ with the last word her voice + trail’d off, and she began again to weep. + </p> + <p> + But in time, having cover’d the dead baronet’s body with sprays of the + wither’d bracken, I drew her to a little distance and prevail’d on her to + nibble a crust of the loaf. Now, all this while, it must be remembered, I + was in my shirt sleeves, and the weather bitter cold. Which at length her + sorrow allow’d her to notice. + </p> + <p> + “Why, you are shivering, sore!” she said, and running, drew my buff-coat + from her father’s body, and held it out to me. + </p> + <p> + “Indeed,” I answer’d, “I was thinking of another expedition to warm my + blood.” And promising to be back in half an hour, I follow’d down my + former tracks toward the stream. + </p> + <p> + Within twenty minutes I was back, running and well-nigh shouting with joy. + </p> + <p> + “Come!” I cried to her, “come and see for yourself!” + </p> + <p> + What had happen’d was this:—Wading cautiously down the brook, I had + cause suddenly to prick up my ears and come to a halt. ’Twas the muffled + tramp of hoofs that I heard, and creeping a bit further, I caught a + glimpse, beyond the hut, of a horse and rider disappearing down the woods. + He was the last of the party, as I guess’d from the sound of voices and + jingling of bits further down the slope. Advancing on the hut with more + boldness, I found it deserted. I scrambled up on the bank and round to the + entrance. The snow before it was trampled and sullied by the footmarks of + men and horses: and as I noted this, came Settle’s voice calling up the + slope—— + </p> + <p> + “Jerry—Jerry Toy!” + </p> + <p> + A nearer voice hail’d in answer. + </p> + <p> + “Where’s Reuben?” + </p> + <p> + “Coming, Captain—close behind!” + </p> + <p> + “Curse him for a loitering idiot! We’ve wasted time enough, as ’tis,” + called back the Captain. “How in thunder is a man to find the road out of + this cursed wood?” + </p> + <p> + “Straight on, Cap’n—you can’t miss it,” shouted another voice, not + two gunshots below. + </p> + <p> + A volcano of oaths pour’d up from Settle. I did not wait for the end of + them: but ran back for Mistress Delia. + </p> + <p> + Together we descended to the hut. By this time the voices had faded away + in distance. Yet to make sure that the rascals had really departed, we + follow’d their tracks for some way, beside the stream; and suddenly came + to a halt with cries of joyful surprise. + </p> + <p> + The brook had led us to a point where, over a stony fall veil’d with brown + bracken, it plunged into a narrow ravine. Standing on the lip, where the + water took a smoother glide before leaping, we saw the line of the ravine + mark’d by a rift in the pines, and through this a slice of the country + that lay below. ’Twas a level plain, well watered, and dotted here and + there with houses. A range of wooded hills clos’d the view, and toward + them a broad road wound gently, till the eye lost it at their base. All + this was plain enough, in spite of the snow that cover’d the landscape. + For the sun had burst out above, and the few flakes that still fell looked + black against his brilliance and the dazzling country below. + </p> + <p> + But what caus’d our joy was to see, along the road, a small cavalcade + moving away from us, with many bright glances of light and color, as their + steel caps and sashes took the sunshine—a pretty sight, and the + prettier because it meant our present deliverance. + </p> + <p> + The girl beside me gave a cry of delight, then sigh’d; and after a minute + began to walk back toward the hut: where I left her, and ran up hill for + the basket and ham. On my return, I found her examining a heap of rusty + tools that, it seem’d, she had found on a shelf of the building. ’Twas no + light help to the good fellowship that afterward united us, that from the + first I could read her thoughts often without words; and for this reason, + that her eyes were as candid as the noonday. + </p> + <p> + So now I answer’d her aloud— + </p> + <p> + “This afternoon we may venture down to the plain, where no doubt we shall + find a clergyman to sell us a patch of holy ground—” + </p> + <p> + “Holy ground?” She look’d at me awhile and shook her head. “I am not of + your religion,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “And your father?” + </p> + <p> + “I think no man ever discovered my father’s religion. Perhaps there was + none to discover: but he was no bad father” she steadied her voice and + went on:—“He would prefer the hillside to your ‘holy ground.’” + </p> + <p> + So, an hour later, I delv’d his grave in the frosty earth, close by the + spot where he lay. Somehow, I shiver’d all the while, and had a cruel + shooting pain in my wound that was like to have mastered me before the + task was ended. But I managed to lower the body softly into the hole and + to cover it reverently from sight: and afterward stood leaning on my spade + and feeling very light in the head, while the girl knelt and pray’d for + her father’s soul. + </p> + <p> + And the picture of her as she knelt is the last I remember, till I open’d + my eyes, and was amazed to find myself on my back, and staring up at + darkness. + </p> + <p> + “What has happen’d?” + </p> + <p> + “I think you are very ill,” said a voice: “can you lean on me, and reach + the hut?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes: that is, I think so. Why is everything dark?” + </p> + <p> + “The sun has been down for hours. You have been in a swoon first, and then + talk’d—oh, such nonsense! Shame on me, to let you catch this chill!” + </p> + <p> + She help’d me to my feet and steadied me: and how we reached the hut I + cannot tell you. It took more than one weary hour, as I now know; but, at + the time, hours and minutes were one to me. + </p> + <p> + In that hut I lay four nights and four days, between ague fit and fever. + And that is all the account I can give of the time, save that, on the + second day, the girl left me alone in the hut and descended to the plain, + where, after asking at many cottages for a physician, she was forced to be + content with an old woman reputed to be amazingly well skill’d in herbs + and medicines; whom, after a day’s trial, she turn’d out of doors. On the + fourth day, fearing for my life, she made another descent, and coming to a + wayside tavern, purchased a pint of aqua vitae, carried it back, and mix’d + a potion that threw me into a profuse sweat. The same evening I sat up, a + sound man. + </p> + <p> + Indeed, so thoroughly was I recover’d that, waking early next morning, and + finding my sweet nurse asleep from sheer weariness, in a corner of the + hut, I stagger’d up from my bed of dried bracken, and out into the pure + air. Rare it was to stand and drink it in like wine. A footstep arous’d + me. ’Twas Mistress Delia: and turning, I held out my hand. + </p> + <p> + “Now this is famous,” said she: “a day or two will see you as good a man + as ever.” + </p> + <p> + “A day or two? To-morrow at latest, I shall make trial to start.” I noted + a sudden change on her face, and added: “Indeed, you must hear my reasons + before setting me down for an ingrate;” and told her of the King’s letter + that I carried. “I hoped that for a while our ways might lie together,” + said I; and broke off, for she was looking me earnestly in the face. + </p> + <p> + “Sir, as you know, my brother Anthony was to have met me—nay, for + pity’s sake, turn not your face away! I have guess’d—the sword you + carry—I mark’d it. Sir, be merciful, and tell me!” + </p> + <p> + I led her a little aside to the foot of a tall pine; and there, tho’ it + rung my heart, told her all; and left her to wrestle with this final + sorrow. She was so tender a thing to be stricken thus, that I who had + dealt the blow crept back to the hut, covering my eyes. In an hour’s time + I look’d out. She was gone. + </p> + <p> + At nightfall she return’d, white with grief and fatigue; yet I was glad to + see her eyes red and swol’n with weeping. Throughout our supper she kept + silence; but when ’twas over, look’d up and spoke in a steady tone—— + </p> + <p> + “Sir, I have a favor to ask, and must risk being held importunate—” + </p> + <p> + “From you to me,” I put in, “all talk of favors had best be dropp’d.” + </p> + <p> + “No—listen. If ever it befel you to lose father or mother or dearly + loved friend, you will know how the anguish stuns—Oh sir! to-day the + sun seem’d fallen out of heaven, and I a blind creature left groping in + the void. Indeed, sir, ’tis no wonder: I had a father, brother, and + servant ready to die for me—three hearts to love and lean on: and + to-day they are gone.” + </p> + <p> + I would have spoken, but she held up a hand. + </p> + <p> + “Now when you spoke of Anthony—a dear lad!—I lay for some time + dazed with grief. By little and little, as the truth grew plainer, the + pain grew also past bearing. I stood up and stagger’d into the woods to + escape it. I went fast and straight, heeding nothing, for at first my + senses were all confus’d: but in a while the walking clear’d my wits, and + I could think: and thinking, I could weep: and having wept, could fortify + my heart. Here is the upshot, sir—tho’ ’tis held immodest for a maid + to ask even far less of a man. We are both bound for Cornwall—you on + an honorable mission, I for my father’s estate of Gleys, wherefrom (as + your tale proves) some unseen hands are thrusting me. Alike we carry our + lives in our hands. You must go forward: I may not go back. For from a + King who cannot right his own affairs there is little hope; and in + Cornwall I have surer friends than he. Therefore take me, sir—take + me for a comrade! Am I sad? Do you fear a weary journey? I will smile—laugh—sing—put + sorrow behind me. I will contrive a thousand ways to cheat the milestones. + At the first hint of tears, discard me, and go your way with no prick of + conscience. Only try me—oh, the shame of speaking thus!” + </p> + <p> + Her voice had grown more rapid toward the close: and now, breaking off, + she put both hands to cover her face, that was hot with blushes. I went + over and took them in mine: + </p> + <p> + “You have made me the blithest man alive,” said I. She drew back a + pace with a frighten’d look, and would have pull’d her hands away. + </p> + <p> + “Because,” I went on quickly, “you have paid me this high compliment, to + trust me. Proud was I to listen to you; and merrily will the miles pass + with you for comrade. And so I say—Mistress Killigrew, take me for + your servant.” + </p> + <p> + To my extreme discomposure, as I dropp’d her hands, her eyes were + twinkling with laughter. + </p> + <p> + “Dear now; I see a dull prospect ahead if we use these long titles!” + </p> + <p> + “But—” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, sir, please yourself. Only as I intend to call you ‘Jack’ perhaps + ‘Delia’ will be more of a piece than ‘Mistress Killigrew.’” She dropp’d me + a mock curtsey. “And now, Jack, be a good boy, and hitch me this quilt + across the hut. I bought it yesterday at a cottage below here——” + </p> + <p> + She ended the sentence with the prettiest blush imaginable; and so, having + fix’d her screen, we shook hands on our comradeship, and wish’d each other + good night. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0008"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class='chapter'><h2> + CHAPTER VIII. — I LOSE THE KING’S LETTER; AND AM CARRIED TO BRISTOL. + </h2></div> + <p> + Almost before daylight we were afoot, and the first ray of cold sunshine + found us stepping from the woods into the plain, where now the snow was + vanished and a glistening coat of rime spread over all things. Down here + the pines gave way to bare elms and poplars, thickly dotted, and among + them the twisting smoke of farmstead and cottage, here and there, and the + morning stir of kitchen and stable very musical in the crisp air. + </p> + <p> + Delia stepped along beside me, humming an air or breaking off to chatter. + Meeting us, you would have said we had never a care. The road went + stretching away to the northwest and the hills against the sky there; + whither beyond, we neither knew nor (being both young, and one, by this + time, pretty deep in love) did greatly care. Yet meeting with a waggoner + and his team, we drew up to enquire. + </p> + <p> + The waggoner had a shock of whitish hair and a face purple-red above, by + reason of the cold, and purple-black below, for lack of a barber. He + purs’d up his mouth and look’d us slowly up and down. + </p> + <p> + “Come,” said I, “you are not deaf, I hope, nor dumb.” + </p> + <p> + “Send I may niver!” the fellow ejaculated, slowly and with contemplation: + “’tis an unseemly sight, yet tickling to the mirthfully minded. Haw—haw!” + He check’d his laughter suddenly and stood like a stone image beside his + horses. + </p> + <p> + “Good sir,” said Delia, laying a hand on my arm (for I was growing + nettled), “your mirth is a riddle: but tell us our way and you are free to + laugh.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Scarlet—Scarlet!” answer’d he: “and to me, that am a man o’ + blushes from my cradle!” + </p> + <p> + Convinced by this that the fellow must be an idiot, I told him so, and + left him staring after us; nor heard the sound of his horses moving on + again for many minutes. + </p> + <p> + After this we met about a dozen on the road, and all paus’d to stare. But + from one—an old woman—we learn’d we were walking toward + Marlboro’, and about noon were over the hills and looking into the valley + beyond. + </p> + <p> + ’Twas very like the other vale; only a pleasant stream wound along the + bottom, by the banks of which the road took us. Here, by a bridge, we came + to an inn bearing the sign of “The Broad Face,” and entered: for Captain + Settle’s stock of victuals was now done. A sour-fac’d woman met us at the + door. + </p> + <p> + “Do you stay here,” Delia advis’d me, “and drink a mug of beer while I + bargain with the hostess for fresh food.” She follow’d the sour-fac’d + woman into the house. + </p> + <p> + But out she comes presently with her cheeks flaming and a pair of bright + eyes. “Come!” she commanded, “come at once!” Setting down my half emptied + mug, I went after her across the bridge and up the road, wondering. In + this way we must have walk’d for a mile or more before she turn’d and + stamp’d her little foot— + </p> + <p> + “Horrible!” she cried. “Horrible—wicked—shameful! Ugh!” There + were tears in her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “What is shameful?” + </p> + <p> + She made no reply, but walk’d on again quickly. + </p> + <p> + “I am getting hungry, for my part,” sigh’d I, after a little. + </p> + <p> + “Then you must starve!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” + </p> + <p> + She wheel’d round again. + </p> + <p> + “Jack, this will never do. If you are to have a comrade, let it be a boy.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, I am very passably content as things are.” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense: at Marlboro’, I mean, you must buy me a suit of boy’s clothes. + What are you hearkening to?” + </p> + <p> + “I thought I heard the noise of guns—or is it thunder?” + </p> + <p> + “Dear Jack, don’t say ’tis thunder! I do mortally fear thunder—and + mice.” + </p> + <p> + “’Twouldn’t be thunder at this time of year. No, ’tis guns firing.” + </p> + <p> + “Where?—not that I mind guns.” + </p> + <p> + “Ahead of us.” + </p> + <p> + On the far side of the valley we enter’d a wood, thinking by this to + shorten our way: for the road here took a long bend to eastward. Now, at + first this wood seem’d of no considerable size, but thicken’d and spread + as we advanced. ’Twas only, however, after passing the ridge, and when + daylight began to fail us, that I became alarm’d. For the wood grew + denser, with a tangle of paths criss-crossing amid the undergrowth. And + just then came the low mutter of cannon again, shaking the earth. We began + to run forward, tripping in the gloom over brambles, and stumbling into + holes. + </p> + <p> + For a mile or so this lasted: and then, without warning, I heard a sound + behind me, and look’d back, to find Delia sunk upon the ground. + </p> + <p> + “Jack, here’s a to-do!” + </p> + <p> + “What’s amiss?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, I am going to swoon!” + </p> + <p> + The words were scarce out, when there sounded a crackling and snapping of + twigs ahead, and two figures came rushing toward us—a man and a + woman. The man carried an infant in his arms: and tho’ I call’d on them to + stop, the pair ran by us with no more notice than if we had been stones. + Only the woman cried, “Dear Lord, save us!” and wrung her hands as she + pass’d out of sight. + </p> + <p> + “This is strange conduct,” thought I: but peering down, saw that Delia’s + face was white and motionless. She had swoon’d, indeed, from weariness and + hunger. So I took her in my arms and stumbled forward, hoping to find the + end of the wood soon. For now the rattle of artillery came louder and + incessant through the trees, and mingling with it, a multitude of dull + shouts and outcries. At first I was minded to run after the man and woman, + but on second thought, resolv’d to see the danger before hiding from it. + </p> + <p> + The trees, in a short while, grew sparser, and between the stems I mark’d + a ruddy light glowing. And then I came out on an open space upon the + hillside, with a dip of earth in front; and beyond, a long ridge of pines + standing up black, because of a red glare behind them; and saw that this + came not from any setting sun, but was the light of a conflagration. + </p> + <p> + The glare danced and quiver’d in the sky, as I cross’d the hollow. It made + even Delia’s white cheek seem rosy. Up amid the pines I clamor’d, and + along the ridge to where it broke off in a steep declivity. And lo! in a + minute I look’d down as ’twere into the infernal pit. + </p> + <p> + There was a whole town burning below. And in the streets men were + fighting, as could be told by their shouts and the rattle and blaze of + musketry. For a garment of smoke lay over all and hid them: only the + turmoil beat up as from a furnace, and the flames of burning thatches, and + quick jets of firearms like lightning in a thundercloud. Great sparks + floated past us, and over the trees at our back. A hot blast breath’d on + our cheeks. Now and then you might hear a human shriek distinct amid the + din, and this spoke terribly to the heart. + </p> + <p> + Now the town was Marlboro’, and the attacking force a body of royal troops + sent from Oxford to oust the garrison of the Parliament, which they did + this same night, with great slaughter, driving the rebels out of the + place, and back on the road to Bristol. Had we guess’d this, much ill luck + had been spared us; but we knew nought of it, nor whether friends or foes + were getting the better. So (Delia being by this time recover’d a little) + we determined to pass the night in the woods, and on the morrow to give + the place a wide berth. + </p> + <p> + Retreating, then, to the hollow (that lay on the lee side of the ridge, + away from the north wind), I gather’d a pile of great stones, and spread + my cloak thereover for Delia. To sleep was impossible, even with the will + for it. For the tumult and fighting went on, and only died out about an + hour before dawn: and once or twice we were troubled to hear the sound of + people running on the ridge above. So we sat and talked in low voices till + dawn; and grew more desperately hunger’d than ever. + </p> + <p> + With the chill of daybreak we started, meaning to get quit of the + neighborhood before any espied us; and fetch’d a compass to the south + without another look at Marlboro’. At the end of two hours, turning + northwest again, we came to some water meadows beside a tiny river (the + Kennet, as I think), and saw, some way beyond, a high road that cross’d to + our side (only the bridge was now broken down), and further yet, a thick + smoke curling up; but whence this came I could not see. Now we had been + avoiding all roads this morning, and hiding at every sound of footsteps. + But hunger was making us bold. I bade Delia crouch down by the stream’s + bank, where many alders grew, and set off toward this column of smoke. + </p> + <p> + By the spot where the road cross’d I noted that many men and horses had + lately pass’d hereby to westward, and, by their footmarks, at a great + speed. A little further, and I came on a broken musket flung against the + hedge, with a nauseous mess of blood and sandy hairs about the stock of + it; and just beyond was a dead horse, his legs sticking up like bent poles + across the road. ’Twas here that my blood went cold on a sudden, to hear a + dismal groaning not far ahead. I stood still, holding my breath, and then + ran forward again. + </p> + <p> + The road took a twist that led me face to face with a small whitewashed + cottage, smear’d with black stains of burning. For seemingly it had been + fir’d in one or two places, only the flames had died out: and from the + back, where some out-building yet smoulder’d, rose the smoke that I spied. + But what brought me to a stand was to see the doorway all crack’d and + charr’d, and across it a soldier stretch’d—a green-coated rebel—and + quite dead. His face lay among the burn’d ruins of the door, that had + wofully singed his beard and hair. A stain of blood ran across the door + stone and into the road. + </p> + <p> + I was gazing upon him and shuddering, when again I heard the groans. They + issued from the upper chamber of the cottage. I stepped over the dead + soldier and mounted the ladder that led upstairs. + </p> + <p> + The upper room was but a loft. In it were two beds, whereof one was empty. + On the edge of the other sat up a boy of sixteen or thereabouts, stark + naked and moaning miserably. With one hand he seem’d trying to cover a big + wound that gaped in his chest: the other, as my head rose over the ladder, + he stretch’d out with all the fingers spread. And this was his last + effort. As I stumbled up, his fingers clos’d in a spasm of pain; his hands + dropp’d, and the body tumbled back on the bed, where it lay with the legs + dangling. + </p> + <p> + The poor lad must have been stabb’d as he lay asleep. For by the bedside I + found his clothes neatly folded and without a speck of blood. They were + clean, though coarse; so thinking they would serve for Delia, I took them, + albeit with some scruples at robbing the dead, and covering the body with + a sheet, made my way downstairs. + </p> + <p> + [Illustration: “Oh, Jack—they do not fit at all!”—Page 121.] + </p> + <p> + Here, on a high shelf at the foot of the ladder, I discover’d a couple of + loaves and some milk, and also, lying hard by, a pair of shepherd’s + shears, which I took also, having a purpose for them. By this time, being + sick enough of the place, I was glad to make all speed back to Delia. + </p> + <p> + She was still waiting among the leafless alders, and clapp’d her hands to + see the two loaves under my arm. + </p> + <p> + Said I, flinging down the clothes, and munching at my share of the bread— + </p> + <p> + “Here is the boy’s suit that you wish’d for.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear! ’tis not a very choice one.” Her face fell. + </p> + <p> + “All the better for escaping notice.” + </p> + <p> + “But—but I <i>like</i> to be notic’d!” + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless, when breakfast was done, she consented to try on the + clothes. I left her eyeing them doubtfully, and stroll’d away by the + river’s bank. In a while her voice call’d to me— + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Jack—they do not fit at all!” + </p> + <p> + “Why, ’tis admirable!” said I, returning, and scanning her. Now this was a + lie: but she took me more than ever, so pretty and comical she look’d in + the dress. + </p> + <p> + “And I cannot walk a bit in them!” she pouted, strutting up and down. + </p> + <p> + “Swing your arms more, and let them hang looser.” + </p> + <p> + “And my hair. Oh, Jack, I have such beautiful hair!” + </p> + <p> + “It must come off,” said I, pulling the shears out of my pocket. + </p> + <p> + “And look at these huge boots!” + </p> + <p> + Indeed, this was the main trouble, for I knew they would hurt her in + walking: yet she made more fuss about her hair, and only gave in when I + scolded her roundly. So I took the shears and clipp’d the chestnut curls, + one by one, while she cried for vexation; and took occasion of her tears + to smuggle the longest lock inside my doublet. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <p> + But, an hour after, she was laughing again, and had learned to cock the + poor country lad’s cap rakishly over one eye: and by evening was walking + with a swagger and longing (I know) to meet with folks. For, to spare her + the sight of the ruin’d cottage, I had taken her round through the fields, + and by every bypath that seem’d to lead westward. ’Twas safer to journey + thus; and all the way she practic’d a man’s carriage and airs, and how to + wink and whistle and swing a stick. And once, when she left one of her + shoes in a wet ditch, she said “d—n!” as natural as life: and then— + </p> + <p> + We jump’d over a hedge, plump into an outpost of rebels, as they sat + munching their supper. + </p> + <p> + They were six in all, and must have been sitting like mice: for all I know + of it is this. I had climb’d the hedge first, and was helping Delia over, + when out of the ground, as it seem’d, a voice shriek’d, “Run—run!—the + King’s men are on us!” and then, my foot slipping, down I went on to the + shoulders of a thick-set man, and well-nigh broke his neck as he turn’d to + look up at me. + </p> + <p> + At first, the whole six were for running, I believe. But seeing only a lad + stretch’d on his face, and a second on the hedge, they thought better of + it. Before I could scramble up, one pair of hands was screw’d about my + neck, another at my heels, and in a trice there we were pinion’d. + </p> + <p> + “Fetch the lantern, Zacchaeus.” + </p> + <p> + ’Twas quickly lit, and thrust into my face; and very foolish I must have + look’d. The fellows were all clad in green coats, much soil’d with mud and + powder. And they grinn’d in my face till I long’d to kick them. + </p> + <p> + “Search the malignant!” cried one. “Question him,” call’d out another; and + forthwith began a long interrogatory concerning the movements of his + Majesty’s troops, from which, indeed, I learn’d much concerning the late + encounter: but of course could answer nought. ’Twas only natural they + should interpret this silence for obstinacy. + </p> + <p> + “March ’em off to Captain Stubbs!” + </p> + <p> + “Halloa!” shouted a pockmarked trooper, that had his hand thrust in on my + breast: “bring the lantern close here. What’s this?” + </p> + <p> + ’Twas, alas! the King’s letter: and I bit my lip while they cluster’d + round, turning the lantern’s yellow glare upon the superscription. + </p> + <p> + “Lads, there’s promotion in this!” shouted the thick-set man I had tumbled + on (who, it seem’d, was the sergeant in the troop): “hand me the letter, + there! Zacchaeus Martin and Tom Pine—you two bide here on duty: + t’other three fall in about the prisoners—quick march!’ The wicked + have digged a pit—’” + </p> + <p> + The rogue ended up with a tag from the Psalmist. + </p> + <p> + We were march’d down the road for a mile or more, till we heard a loud + bawling, as of a man in much bodily pain, and soon came to a small + village, where, under a tavern lamp, by the door, was a man perch’d up on + a tub, and shouting forth portions of the Scripture to some twenty or more + green-coats assembled round. Our conductor pushed past these, and enter’d + the tavern. At a door to the left in the passage he halted, and knocking + once, thrust us inside. + </p> + <p> + The room was bare and lit very dimly by two tallow candles, set in + bottles. Between these, on a deal table, lay a map outspread, and over it + a man was bending, who look’d up sharply at our entrance. + </p> + <p> + He was thin, with a blue nose, and wore a green uniform like the rest: + only his carriage proved him a man of authority. + </p> + <p> + This Captain Stubbs listened, you may be sure, with a bright’ning eye to + the sergeant’s story; and at the close fix’d an inquisitive gaze on the + pair of us, turning the King’s letter over and over in his hands. + </p> + <p> + “How came this in your possession?” he ask’d at length. + </p> + <p> + “That,” said I, “I must decline to tell.” + </p> + <p> + He hesitated a moment; then, re-seating himself, broke the seal, spread + the letter upon the map, and read it slowly through. For the first time I + began heartily to hope that the paper contain’d nothing of moment. But the + man’s face was no index of this. He read it through twice, folded it away + in his breast, and turn’d to the sergeant— + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow at six in the morning we continue our march. Meanwhile keep + these fellows secure. I look to you for this.” + </p> + <p> + The sergeant saluted and we were led out. That night we pass’d in + handcuffs, huddled with fifty soldiers in a hayloft of the inn and + hearkening to their curious talk, that was half composed of Holy Writ and + half of gibes at our expense. They were beaten men and, like all such, + found comfort in deriding the greater misfortunes of others. + </p> + <p> + Before daylight the bugles began to sound, and we were led down to the + green before the tavern door, where already were close upon five hundred + gather’d, that had been billeted about the village and were now forming in + order of march—a soil’d, batter’d crew, with torn ensigns and little + heart in their movements. The sky began a cold drizzle as we set out, and + through this saddening whether we trudged all day, Delia and I being kept + well apart, she with the vanguard and I in the rear, seeing only the + winding column, the dejected heads bobbing in front as they bent to the + slanting rain, the cottagers that came out to stare as we pass’d; and + hearing but the hoarse words of command, the low mutterings of the men, + and always the monotonous <i>tramp-tramp</i> through the slush and mire of + the roads. + </p> + <p> + ’Tis like a bad dream to me, and I will not dwell on it. That night we + pass’d at Chippenham—a small market town—and on the morrow + went tramping again through worse weather, but always amid the same sights + and sounds. There were moments when I thought to go mad, wrenching at my + cords till my wrists bled, yet with no hope to escape. But in time, by + good luck, my wits grew deaden’d to it all, and I march’d on with the rest + to a kind of lugubrious singsong that my brain supplied. For hours I went + thus, counting my steps, missing my reckoning, and beginning again. + </p> + <p> + Daylight was failing when the towers of Bristol grew clear out of the + leaden mist in front; and by five o’clock we halted outside the walls and + beside the ditch of the castle, waiting for the drawbridge to be let down. + Already a great crowd had gather’d about us, of those who had come out to + learn news of the defeat, which, the day before some fugitives had carried + to Bristol. To their questions, as to all else, I listen’d like a man in a + trance: and recall this only—that first I was shivering out in the + rain and soon after was standing beside Delia, under guard of a dozen + soldiers, and shaking with cold, beneath a gateway that led between the + two wards of the castle. And there, for an hour at least, we kick’d our + heels, until from the inner ward Captain Stubbs came striding and + commanded us to follow. + </p> + <p> + Across the court we went in the rain, through a vaulted passage, and + passing a screen of carved oak found ourselves suddenly in a great hall, + near forty yards long (as I reckon it), and rafter’d with oak. At the far + end, around a great marble table, were some ten or more gentlemen seated, + who all with one accord turn’d their eyes upon us, as the captain brought + us forward. + </p> + <p> + The table before them was litter’d with maps, warrants, and papers; and + some of the gentlemen had pens in their hands. But the one on whom my eyes + fastened was a tall, fair soldier that sat in the centre, and held his + Majesty’s letter, open, in his hand: who rose and bow’d to me as I came + near. + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” he said, “the fortune of war having given you into our hands, you + will not refuse, I hope, to answer our questions.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir, I have nought to tell,” answer’d I, bowing in return. + </p> + <p> + With a delicate white hand he wav’d my words aside. He had a handsome, + irresolute mouth, and was, I could tell, of very different degree from the + merchants and lawyers beside him. + </p> + <p> + “You act under orders from the—the—” + </p> + <p> + “Anti-Christ,” put in a snappish little fellow on his right. + </p> + <p> + “I do nothing of the sort,” said I. “Well, then, sir, from King + Charles.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not.” + </p> + <p> + “Tush!” exclaim’d the snappish man, and then straightening himself up—“That + boy with you—that fellow disguis’d as a countryman—look at his + boots!—he’s a Papist spy!” + </p> + <p> + “There, sir, you are wrong!” + </p> + <p> + “I saw him—I’ll be sworn to his face—I saw him, a year back, + at Douai, helping at the mass! I never forget faces.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, what nonsense!” cried I, and burst out laughing. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t mock at me, sir!” he thunder’d, bringing down his fist on the + table. “I tell you the boy is a Papist!” He pointed furiously at Delia, + who, now laughing also, answer’d him very demurely— + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, sir—” + </p> + <p> + “I saw you, I say.” + </p> + <p> + “You are bold to make so certain of a Papist—” + </p> + <p> + “I saw you!” + </p> + <p> + “That cannot even tell maid from man!” + </p> + <p> + “What is meant by that?” asks the tall soldier, opening his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Why, simply this, sir: I am no boy at all, but a girl!” + </p> + <p> + There was a minute, during which the little man went purple in the face, + and the rest star’d at Delia in blank astonishment. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Jack,” she whisper’d in my ear, “I am so very, very sorrow: but I <i>cannot</i> + wear these hateful clothes much longer.” + </p> + <p> + She fac’d the company with a rosy blush. + </p> + <p> + “What say you to this?” ask’d Colonel Essex—for ’twas he—turning + round on the little man. + </p> + <p> + “Say? What do I say? That the fellow is a Papist, too. I knew it from the + first, and this proves it!” + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0009"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class='chapter'><h2> + CHAPTER IX. — I BREAK OUT OF PRISON. + </h2></div> + <p> + You are now to be ask’d to pass over the next four weeks in as many + minutes: as would I had done at the time! For I spent them in a bitter + cold cell in the main tower of Bristol keep, with a chair and a pallet of + straw for all my furniture, and nothing to stay my fast but the bread and + water that the jailer—a sour man, if ever there were one—brought + me twice a day. + </p> + <p> + This keep lies in the northwest corner of the outer ward of the castle—a + mighty tall pile and strongly built, the walls (as the jailer told me) + being a full twenty-five feet thick near the foundations, tho’ by time you + ascended to the towers this thickness had dwindled to six feet and no + more. In shape ’twas a quadrilateral, a little shorter from north to south + than from east to west (in which latter direction it measured sixty feet, + about), and had four towers standing at the four corners, whereof mine was + five fathoms higher than the rest. + </p> + <p> + Guess, then, how little I thought of escape, having but one window, a + hundred feet (I do believe) above the ground, and that so narrow that, + even without the iron bar across it, ’twould barely let my shoulders pass. + What concern’d me more was the cold that gnaw’d me continually these + winter nights, as I lay thinking of Delia (whom I had not seen since our + examination), or gazing out on the patch of frosty heaven that was all my + view. ’Twas thus I had heard Bristol bells ringing for Christmas in the + town below. + </p> + <p> + Colonel Essex had been thrice to visit me, and always offer’d many excuses + for my treatment; but when he came to question me, why of course I had + nothing to tell, so that each visit but served to vex him more. Clearly I + was suspected to know a great deal beyond what appear’d in the letter: and + no doubt poor Anthony Killigrew had receiv’d some verbal message from His + Majesty which he lived not long enough to transmit to me. As ’twas, I kept + silence; and the Colonel in return would tell me nothing of what had + befallen Delia. + </p> + <p> + One fine, frosty morning, then, when I had lain in this distress just four + weeks, the door of my cell open’d, and there appear’d a young woman, not + uncomely, bringing in my bread and water. She was the jailer’s daughter, + and wore a heavy bunch of keys at her girdle. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, good morning!” said I: for till now her father only had visited me, + and this was a welcome change. + </p> + <p> + Instead of answering cheerfully (as I look’d for), she gave a little nod + of the head, rather sorrowful, and answered:— + </p> + <p> + “Father’s abed with the ague.” + </p> + <p> + “Now you cannot expect me to be sorry.” + </p> + <p> + “Nay,” she said; and I caught her looking at me with something like + compassion in her blue eyes, which mov’d me to cry out suddenly— + </p> + <p> + “I think you are woman enough to like a pair of lovers.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, aye: but where’s t’other half of the pair?” + </p> + <p> + “You’re right. The young gentlewoman that was brought hither with me—I + know not if she loves me: but this I do know—I would give my hand to + learn her whereabouts, and how she fares.” + </p> + <p> + “Better eat thy loaf,” put in the girl very suddenly, setting down the + plate and pitcher. + </p> + <p> + ’Twas odd, but I seem’d to hear a sob in her voice. However, her back was + toward me as I glanc’d up. And next moment she was gone, locking the iron + door behind her. + </p> + <p> + I turn’d from my breakfast with a sigh, having for the moment tasted the + hope to hear something of Delia. But in a while, feeling hungry, I pick’d + up the loaf beside me, and broke it in two. + </p> + <p> + To my amaze, out dropp’d something that jingled on the stone floor. + </p> + <p> + ’Twas a small file: and examining the loaf again, I found a clasp-knife + also, and a strip of paper, neatly folded, hidden in the bread. + </p> + <p> + “Deare Jack, + </p> + <p> + “Colonel Essex, finding no good come of his interrogatories, hath set me + at large; tho’ I continue under his eye, to wit, with a dowager of his + acquaintance, a Mistress Finch. Wee dwell in a private house midway down + St. Thomas his street, in Redcliffe: and she hath put a dismal dress upon + me (Jack, ’tis <i>hideous</i>), but otherwise uses me not ill. But take + care of thyself, my deare friend: for tho’ the Colonel be a gentilman, he + is press’d by them about him, and at our last interview I noted a mischief + in his eye. Canst use this file?—(but take care: all the gates I saw + guarded with troopers to-day.) This by one who hath been my friend: for + whose sake tear the paper up. And beleeve your cordial, loving comrade + </p> + <h3> + “D. K.” + </h3> + <p> + After reading this a dozen times, till I had it by heart, I tore the + letter into small pieces and hid them in my pocket. This done, I felt + lighter-hearted than for many a day, and (rather for employment than with + any farther view) began lazily to rub away at my window bar. The file + work’d well. By noon the bar was half sever’d, and I broke off to whistle + a tune. ’Twas— + </p> +<div class="pre"> + “Vivre en tout cas, + C’est le grand soulas—” + </div> + <p> + and I broke off to hear the key turning in my lock. + </p> + <p> + The jailer’s daughter enter’d with my second meal. Her eyes were red with + weeping. + </p> + <p> + Said I, “Does your father beat you?” + </p> + <p> + “He has, before now,” she replied: “but not to-day.” + </p> + <p> + “Then why do you weep?” + </p> + <p> + “Not for that.” + </p> + <p> + “For what then?” + </p> + <p> + “For you—oh, dear, dear! How shall I tell it? They are going to—to—” + She sat down on the chair, and sobb’d in her apron. + </p> + <p> + “What is’t they are going to do?” + </p> + <p> + “To—to—h-hang you.” + </p> + <p> + “The devil! When?” + </p> + <p> + “Tut-tut-to-morrow mo-horning!” + </p> + <p> + I went suddenly very cold all over. There was silence for a moment, and + then I heard the noise of some one dropping a plank in the courtyard + below. + </p> + <p> + “What’s that?” + </p> + <p> + “The gug-gug—” + </p> + <p> + “Gallows?” + </p> + <p> + She nodded. + </p> + <p> + “You are but a weak girl,” said I, meditating. + </p> + <p> + “Aye: but there’s a dozen troopers on the landing below.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, my dear, you must lock me up,” I decided gloomily, and fell to + whistling—— + </p> +<div class="pre"> + “Vivre en tout cas, + C’est le grand soulas—” + </div> + <p> + A workman’s hammer in the court below chim’d in, beating out the tune, and + driving the moral home. I heard a low sob behind me. The jailer’s daughter + was going. + </p> + <p> + “Lend me your bodkin, my dear, for a memento.” + </p> + <p> + She pull’d it out and gave it to me. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, and now good-bye! Stop: here’s a kiss to take to my dear + mistress. They shan’t hang me, my dear.” + </p> + <p> + The girl went out, sobbing, and lock’d the door after her. + </p> + <p> + I sat down for a while, feeling doleful. For I found myself extremely + young to be hang’d. But soon the <i>whang—whang!</i> of the hammer + below rous’d me. “Come,” I thought, “I’ll see what that rascal is doing, + at any rate,” and pulling the file from my pocket, began to attack the + window bar with a will. I had no need for silence, at this great height + above the ground: and besides, the hammering continued lustily. + </p> + <p> + Daylight was closing as I finish’d my task and, pulling the two pieces of + the bar aside, thrust my head out at the window. + </p> + <p> + Directly under me, and about twenty feet from the ground, I saw a beam + projecting, about six feet long, over a sort of doorway in the wall. Under + this beam, on a ladder, was a carpenter fellow at work, fortifying it with + two supporting timbers that rested on the sill of the doorway. He was + merry enough over the job, and paused every now and again to fling a + remark to a little group of soldiers that stood idling below, where the + fellow’s workbag and a great coil of rope rested by the ladder’s foot. + </p> + <p> + “Reckon, Sammy,” said one, pulling a long tobacco pipe from his mouth and + spitting, “’tis a long while since thy last job o’ the sort.” + </p> + <p> + “Aye, lad: terrible disrepair this place has fall’n into. But send us a + cheerful heart, say I! Instead o’ the viper an’ owl, shall henceforward be + hangings of men an’ all manner o’ diversion.” + </p> + <p> + I kept my head out of sight and listen’d. + </p> + <p> + “What time doth ’a swing?” ask’d another of the soldiers. + </p> + <p> + “I heard the Colonel give orders for nine o’clock to-morrow,” answer’d the + first soldier, spitting again. + </p> + <p> + The clock over the barbican struck four: and in a minute was being + answer’d from tower after tower, down in the city. + </p> + <p> + “Four o’clock!” cried the man on the ladder: “time to stop work, and here + goes for the last nail!” He drove it in and prepar’d to descend. + </p> + <p> + “Hi!” shouted a soldier, “you’ve forgot the rope.” + </p> + <p> + “That’ll wait till to-morrow. There’s a staple to drive in, too. I tell + you I’m dry, and want my beer.” + </p> + <p> + He whipp’d his apron round his waist, and gathering up his nails, went + down the ladder. At the foot he pick’d up his bag, shoulder’d the ladder, + and loung’d away, leaving the coil of rope lying there. Presently the + soldiers saunter’d off also, and the court was empty. + </p> + <p> + Now up to this moment I had but one idea of avoiding my fate, and that was + to kill myself. ’Twas to this end I had borrow’d the bodkin of the maid. + Afterward I had a notion of flinging myself from the window as they came + for me. But now, as I look’d down on that coil of rope lying directly + below, a prettier scheme struck me. I sat down on the floor of my cell and + pull’d off my boots and stockings. + </p> + <p> + ’Twas such a pretty plan that I got into a fever of impatience. Drawing + off a stocking and picking out the end of the yarn, I began to unravel the + knitting for dear life, until the whole lay, a heap of thread, on the + floor. I then serv’d the other in the same way: and at the end had two + lines, each pretty near four hundred yards in length: which now I divided + into eight lines of about a hundred yards each. + </p> + <p> + With these I set to work, and by the end of twenty minutes had plaited a + rope—if rope, indeed, it could be called—weak to be sure, but + long enough to reach the ground with plenty to spare. Then, having bent my + bodkin to the form of a hook, I tied it to the end of my cord, weighted it + with a crown from my pocket, and clamber’d up to the window. I was going + to angle for the hangman’s rope. + </p> + <p> + ’Twas near dark by this; but I could just distinguish it on the paving + stones below, and looking about the court, saw that no one was astir. I + wriggled first my head, then a shoulder, through the opening, and let the + line run gently through my hand. There was still many yards left, that + could be paid out, when I heard my coin tinkle softly on the pavement. + </p> + <p> + Then began my difficulty. A dozen times I pull’d my hook across the coil + before it hitch’d; and then a full three score of times the rope slipped + away before I had rais’d it a dozen yards. My elbow was raw, almost, with + leaning on the sill, and I began to lose heart and head, when, to my + delight, the bodkin caught and held. It had fasten’d on a kink in the + rope, not far from the end. I began to pull up, hand over hand, trembling + all the while like a leaf. + </p> + <p> + For I had two very reasonable fears. First, the rope might slip away and + tumble before it reach’d my grasp. Secondly, it might, after all, prove a + deal too short. It had look’d to me a new rope of many fathoms, not yet + cut for to-morrow’s purpose; but eyesight might well deceive at that + distance, and surely enough I saw that the whole was dangling off the + ground long before it came to my hand. + </p> + <p> + But at last I caught it, and slipping back into the room, pull’d it after + me, yard upon yard. My heart went loud and fast. There was nothing to + fasten it to but an iron staple in the door, that meant losing the width + of my cell, some six feet. This, however, must be risk’d, and I made the + end fast, lower’d the other out of window again, and climbing to a sitting + posture on the window sill, thrust out my legs over the gulf. + </p> + <p> + Thankful was I that darkness had fallen before this, and hidden the giddy + depths below me. I gripp’d the rope and push’d myself inch by inch through + the window, and out over the ledge. For a moment I dangled, without + courage to move a hand. Then, wreathing my legs round the rope, I loosed + my left hand, and caught with it again some six inches lower. And so, down + I went. + </p> + <p> + Minute follow’d minute, and left me still descending, six inches at a + time, and looking neither above nor below, but always at the grey wall + that seem’d sliding up in front of me. The first dizziness was over, but a + horrible aching of the arms had taken the place of it. ’Twas growing + intolerable, when suddenly my legs, that sought to close round the rope, + found space only. I had come to the end. + </p> + <p> + I look’d down. A yard below my feet the beam of the gallows gleam’d palely + out of the darkness. Here was my chance. I let my hands slip down the last + foot or so of rope, hung for a moment, then dropp’d for the beam. + </p> + <p> + My feet miss’d it, as I intended they should; but I flung both arms out + and caught it, bringing myself up with a jerk. While yet I hung clawing, I + heard a footstep coming through the gateway between the two wards. + </p> + <p> + Here was a fix. With all speed and silence I drew myself up to the beam, + found a hold with one knee upon it, got astride, and lay down at length, + flattening my body down against the timber. Yet all the while I felt sure + I must have been heard. + </p> + <p> + The footsteps drew nearer, and pass’d almost under the gallows. ’Twas an + officer, for, as he pass’d, he called out— + </p> + <p> + “Sergeant Downs! Sergeant Downs!” + </p> + <p> + A voice from the guardroom in the barbican answer’d him through the + darkness. + </p> + <p> + “Why is not the watch set?” + </p> + <p> + “In a minute, sir: it wants a minute to six.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought the Colonel order’d it at half past five?” + </p> + <p> + In the silence that follow’d, the barbican clock began to strike, and half + a dozen troopers tumbled out from the guardroom, some laughing, some + grumbling at the coldness of the night. The officer return’d to the inner + ward as they dispersed to their posts: and soon there was silence again, + save for the <i>tramp-tramp</i> of a sentry crossing and recrossing the + pavement below me. + </p> + <p> + All this while I lay flatten’d along the beam, scarce daring to breathe. + But at length, when the man had pass’d below for the sixth time, I found + heart to wriggle myself toward the doorway over which the gallows + protruded. By slow degrees, and pausing whenever the fellow drew near, I + crept close up to the wall: then, waiting the proper moment, cast my legs + over, dangled for a second or two swinging myself toward the sill, flung + myself off, and, touching the ledge with one toe, pitch’d forward in the + room. + </p> + <p> + The effect of this was to give me a sound crack as I struck the flooring, + which lay about a foot below the level of the sill. I pick’d myself up and + listen’d. Outside, the regular tramp of the sentry prov’d he had not heard + me; and I drew a long breath, for I knew that without a lantern he would + never spy, in the darkness, the telltale rope dangling from the tower. + </p> + <p> + In the room where I stood all was right. But the flooring was uneven to + the foot, and scatter’d with small pieces of masonry. ’Twas one of the + many chambers in the castle that had dropp’d into disrepair. Groping my + way with both hands, and barking my shins on the loose stones, I found a + low vaulted passage that led me into a second chamber, empty as the first. + To my delight, the door of this was ajar, with a glimmer of light slanting + through the crack. I made straight toward it, and pull’d the door softly. + It open’d, and show’d a lantern dimly burning, and the staircase of the + keep winding past me, up into darkness. + </p> + <p> + My chance was, of course, to descend: which I did on tiptoe, hearing no + sound. The stairs twisted down and down, and ended by a stout door with + another lamp shining above it. After listening a moment I decided to be + bold, and lifted the latch. A faint cry saluted me. + </p> + <p> + I stood face to face with the jailer’s daughter. + </p> + <p> + The room was a small one, well lit, and lin’d about the walls with cups + and bottles. ’Twas, as I guess’d, a taproom for the soldiers: and the girl + had been scouring one of the pewter mugs when my entrance startled her. + She stood up, white as if painted, and gasp’d— + </p> + <p> + “Quick—quick! Down here behind the counter for your life!” + </p> + <p> + There was scarce time to drop on my knees before a couple of troopers + loung’d in, demanding mull’d beer. The girl bustled about to serve them, + while the pair lean’d their elbows on the counter, and in this easy + attitude began to chat. + </p> + <p> + “A shrewd night!” + </p> + <p> + “Aye, a very freezing frost! Lucky that soldiering is not all sentry work, + or I for one ‘ud ensue my natural trade o’ plumbing. But let’s be + cheerful: for the voice o’ the turtle is heard i’ the land.” + </p> + <p> + “Hey?” + </p> + <p> + The man took a pull at his hot beer before explaining. + </p> + <p> + “The turtle signifieth the Earl o’ Stamford, that is to-night visiting + Colonel Essex in secret: an’ this is the import—war, bloody war. + Mark me.” + </p> + <p> + “Stirring, striving times!” + </p> + <p> + “You may say so! ’A hath fifteen thousand men, the Earl, no farther off + than Taunton—why, my dear, how pale you look, to be sure!” + </p> + <p> + “’Tis my head that aches,” answer’d the girl. + </p> + <p> + The men finish’d their drink, and saunter’d out. I crept from under the + counter, and look’d at her. + </p> + <p> + “Father’ll kill me for this!” + </p> + <p> + “Then you shall say—Is it forward or back I must go?” + </p> + <p> + “Neither.” She pull’d up a trap close beside her feet, and pointed out a + ladder leading down to the darkness. “The courts are full of troopers,” + she added. + </p> + <p> + “The cellar?” + </p> + <p> + She nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Quick! There’s a door at the far end. It leads to the crypt of St. John’s + Chapel. You’ll find the key beside it, and a lantern. Here is flint and + steel.” She reach’d them down from a shelf beside her. “Crouch down, or + they’ll spy you through the window. From the crypt a passage takes you to + the governor’s house. How to escape then, God knows! ’Tis the best I can + think on.” + </p> + <p> + I thank’d her, and began to step down the ladder. She stood for a moment + to watch, leaving the trap open for better light. Between the avenue of + casks and bins I stumbled toward the door and lantern that were just to be + discern’d at the far end of the cellar. As I struck steel on flint, I + heard the trap close: and since then have never set eyes on that + kind-hearted girl. + </p> + <p> + The lantern lit, I took the key and fitted it to the lock. It turned + noisily, and a cold whiff of air struck my face. Gazing round this new + chamber, I saw two lines of squat pillars, supporting a low arch’d roof. + ’Twas the crypt beneath the chapel, and smelt vilely. A green moisture + trickled down the pillars, and dripp’d on the tombs beneath them. + </p> + <p> + At the end of this dreary place was a broken door, consisting only of a + plank or two, that I easily pull’d away: and beyond, a narrow passage, + over which I heard the tread of troopers plainly, as they pac’d to and + fro; also the muffled note of the clock, sounding seven. + </p> + <p> + The passage went fairly straight, but was block’d here and there with + fallen stones, over which I scrambled as best I could. And then, suddenly + I was near pitching down a short flight of steps. I held the lantern aloft + and look’d. + </p> + <p> + At the steps’ foot widen’d out a low room, whereof the ceiling, like that + of the crypt, rested on pillars. Between these, every inch of space was + pil’d with barrels, chests, and great pyramids of round shot. In each + corner lay a heap of rusty pikes. Of all this the signification was clear. + I stood in the munition room of the Castle. + </p> + <p> + But what chiefly took my notice was a great door, studded with iron nails, + that barr’d all exit from the place. Over the barrels I crept toward it, + keeping the lantern high, in dread of firing any loose powder. ’Twas fast + lock’d. + </p> + <p> + I think that, for a moment or two, I could have wept. But in a while the + thought struck me that with the knife in my pocket ’twas possible to cut + away the wood around the lock. “Courage!” said I: and pulling it forth, + knelt down to work. + </p> + <p> + Luck in life has always used me better than my deserts. At an hour’s end + there I was, hacking away steadily, yet had made but little progress. And + then, pressing the knife deep, I broke the blade off short. The door upon + the far side was cas’d with iron. + </p> + <p> + <i>Tramp—tramp!</i> + </p> + <p> + ’Twas the sound of man’s footfall, and to the ear appear’d to be + descending a flight of steps on the other side of the door. I bent my ear + to the keyhole: then stepp’d to a cask of bullets that stood handy by. I + took out a dozen, felt in my pocket for Delia’s kerchief that she had + given me, caught up a pike from the pile stack’d in the corner, and softly + blowing out my light, stood back to be conceal’d by the door, when it + open’d. + </p> + <p> + The footsteps still descended. I heard an aged voice muttering— + </p> + <p> + “Shrivel my bones—ugh!—ugh! Wintry work—wintry work! + Here’s an hour to send a grandfatherly man a-groping for a keg o’ powder!” + </p> + <p> + A wheezy cough clos’d the sentence, as a key was with difficulty fitted in + the lock. + </p> + <p> + “Ugh—ugh! Sure, the lock an’ I be a pair, for stiff joints.” + </p> + <p> + The door creak’d back against me, and a shaft of light pierc’d the + darkness. + </p> + <p> + Within the threshold, with his back to me, stood a grey-bearded servant, + and totter’d so that the lantern shook in his hand. It sham’d me to lift a + pike against one so weak. Instead, I dropp’d it with a clatter, and leap’d + forward. The old fellow jumped like a boy, turn’d, and fac’d me with + dropp’d jaw, which gave me an opportunity to thrust four or five bullets, + not over roughly, into his mouth. Then, having turn’d him on his back, I + strapp’d Delia’s kerchief tight across his mouth, and took the lantern + from his hand. + </p> + <p> + Not a word was said. Sure, the poor old man’s wits were shaken, for he lay + meek as a mouse, and star’d up at me, while I unstrapp’d his belt and + bound his feet with it. His hands I truss’d up behind him with his own + neckcloth; and catching up the lantern, left him there. I lock’d the door + after me, and slip’d the key into my pocket as I sprang up the stairs + beyond. + </p> + <p> + But here a light was shining, so once more I extinguish’d my lantern. The + steps ended in a long passage, with a handsome lamp hanging at the + uttermost end, and beneath this lamp I stepp’d into a place that fill’d me + with astonishment. + </p> + <p> + ’Twas, I could not doubt, the entrance hall of the governor’s house. An + oak door, very massive, fronted me; to left and right were two smaller + doors, that plainly led into apartments of the house. Also to my left, and + nigher than the door on that side, ran up a broad staircase, carpeted and + brightly lit all the way, so that a very blaze fell on me as I stood. + Under the first flight, close to my left shoulder, was a line of pegs with + many cloaks and hats depending therefrom. Underfoot, I remember, the hall + was richly tiled in squares of red and white marble. + </p> + <p> + Now clearly, this was a certain place wherein to be caught. “But,” thought + I, “behind one of the two doors, to left or to right, must lie the + governor’s room of business; and in that room—as likely as not—his + keys.” Which door, then, should I choose? For to stay here was madness. + </p> + <p> + While I stood pondering, the doubt was answer’d for me. From behind the + right-hand door came a burst of laughter and clinking of glasses, on top + of which a man’s voice—the voice of Colonel Essex—call’d out + for more wine. + </p> + <p> + I took a step to the door on the left, paus’d for a second or two with my + hand on the latch, and then cautiously push’d it open. The chamber was + empty. + </p> + <p> + ’Twas a long room, with a light burning on a square centre table, and + around it a mass of books, loose papers and documents strewn, seemingly + without order. The floor too was litter’d with them. Clearly this was the + Colonel’s office. + </p> + <p> + I gave a rapid glance around. The lamp’s rays scarce illumin’d the far + corners; but in one of these stood a great leathern screen, and over the + fireplace near it a rack was hanging, full of swords, pistols, and walking + canes. Stepping toward it I caught sight of Anthony’s sword, suspended + there amongst the rest (they had taken it from me on the day of my + examination); which now I took down and strapp’d at my side. I then chose + out a pistol or two, slipped them into my sash, and advanced to the centre + table. + </p> + <p> + Under the lamplight lay His Majesty’s letter, open. + </p> + <p> + My hand was stretch’d out to catch it up, when I heard across the hall a + door open’d, and the sound of men’s voices. They were coming toward the + office. + </p> + <p> + There was scarce time to slip back, and hide behind the screen, before the + door latch was lifted, and two men enter’d, laughing yet. + </p> + <p> + “Business, my lord—business,” said the first (’twas Colonel Essex): + “I have much to do to-night.” + </p> + <p> + “Sure,” the other answer’d, “I thought we had settled it. You are to lend + me a thousand out of your garrison—” + </p> + <p> + “Which, on my own part, I would willingly do. Only I beg you to consider, + my lord, that my position here hangs on a thread. The extreme men are + already against me: they talk of replacing me by Fiennes—” + </p> + <p> + “Nat Fiennes is no soldier.” + </p> + <p> + “No: but he’s a bigot—a stronger recommendation. Should this plan + miscarry, and I lose a thousand men—” + </p> + <p> + “Heavens alive, man! It <i>cannot</i> miscarry. Hark ye: there’s Ruthen of + Plymouth will take the south road with all his forces. A day’s march + behind I shall follow—along roads to northward—parallel for a + way, but afterward converging. The Cornishmen are all in Bodmin. We shall + come on them with double their number, aye, almost treble. Can you doubt + the issue?” + </p> + <p> + “Scarcely, with the Earl of Stamford for General.” + </p> + <p> + The Earl was too far occupied to notice this compliment. + </p> + <p> + “’Twill be swift and secret,” he said, “as Death himself—and as + sure. Let be the fact that Hopton is all at sixes and sevens since the + Marquis shipp’d for Wales: and at daggers drawn with Mohun.” + </p> + <p> + Said the Colonel slowly—“Aye, the notion is good enough. Were I not + in this corner, I would not think twice. Listen now: only this morning + they forc’d me to order a young man’s hanging, who might if kept alive be + forc’d in time to give us news of value. I dar’d not refuse.” + </p> + <p> + “He that you caught with the King’s letter?” + </p> + <p> + “Aye—a trumpery missive, dealing with naught but summoning of the + sheriff’s posse and the like. There is more behind, could we but wait to + get at it.” + </p> + <p> + “The gallows may loosen his tongue. And how of the girl that was taken + too?” + </p> + <p> + “I have her in safe keeping. This very evening I shall visit her, and make + another trial to get some speech. Which puts me in mind—” + </p> + <p> + The Colonel tinkled a small hand bell that lay on the table. + </p> + <p> + The pause that followed was broken by the Earl. + </p> + <p> + “May I see the letter?” + </p> + <p> + The Colonel handed it, and tinkled the bell again, more impatiently. At + length steps were heard in the hall, and a servant open’d the door. + </p> + <p> + “Where is Giles?” ask’d the Colonel. “Why are you taking his place?” + </p> + <p> + “Giles can’t be found, your honor.” + </p> + <p> + “Hey?” + </p> + <p> + “He’s a queer oldster, your honor, an’ maybe gone to bed wi’ his aches and + pains.” + </p> + <p> + (I knew pretty well that Giles had done no such thing: but be sure I kept + the knowledge safe behind my screen.) + </p> + <p> + “Then go seek him, and say—No, stop: I can’t wait. Order the coach + around at the barbican in twenty minutes from now—twenty minutes, + mind, without fail. And say—’twill save time—the fellow’s to + drive me to Mistress Finch’s house in St. Thomas’ Street—sharp!” + </p> + <p> + As the man departed on his errand, the Earl laid down His Majesty’s + letter. + </p> + <p> + “Hang the fellow,” he said, “if they want it: the blame, if any, will be + theirs. But, in the name of Heaven, Colonel, don’t fail in lending me this + thousand men! ’Twill finish the war out of hand.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll do it,” answered the Colonel slowly. + </p> + <p> + “And I’ll remember it,” said the Earl. “To-morrow, at six o’clock, I set + out.” + </p> + <p> + The two men shook hands on their bargain and left the room, shutting the + door after them. + </p> + <p> + I crept forth from behind the screen, my heart thumping on my ribs. Thus + far it had been all fear and trembling with me; but now this was chang’d + to a kind of panting joy. ’Twas not that I had spied the prison keys + hanging near the fireplace, nor that behind the screen lay a heap of the + Colonel’s riding boots, whereof a pair, ready spurr’d, fitted me choicely + well; but that my ears tingled with news that turn’d my escape to a matter + of public welfare: and also that the way to escape lay plann’d in my head. + </p> + <p> + Shod in the Colonel’s boots, I advanc’d again to the table. With + sealing-wax and the Governor’s seal, that lay handy, I clos’d up the + King’s letter, and sticking it in my breast, caught down the bunch of keys + and made for the door. + </p> + <p> + The hall was void. I snatch’d down a cloak and heavy broad-brimm’d hat + from one of the pegs, and donning them, slipp’d back the bolts of the + heavy door. It opened without noise. Then, with a last hitch of the cloak, + to bring it well about me, I stepp’d forth into the night, shutting the + door quietly on my heels. + </p> + <p> + My feet were on the pavement of the inner ward. Above, one star only broke + the blackness of the night. Across the court was a sentry tramping. As I + walk’d boldly up, he stopped short by the gate between the wards and + regarded me. + </p> + <p> + Now was my danger. I knew not the right key for the wicket: and if I + fumbled, the fellow would detect me for certain. I chose one and drew + nearer; the fellow look’d, saluted, stepp’d to the wicket, and open’d it + himself. + </p> + <p> + “Good night, Colonel!” + </p> + <p> + I did not trust myself to answer: but passed rapidly through to the outer + ward. Here, to my joy, in the arch’d passage of the barbican gate, was the + carriage waiting, the porter standing beside the door; and here also, to + my dismay, was a torch alight, and under it half a dozen soldiers + chatting. A whisper pass’d on my approach— + </p> + <p> + “The Colonel!” and they hurried into the guardroom. + </p> + <p> + “Good evening, Colonel!” The porter bow’d low, holding the door wide. + </p> + <p> + I pass’d him rapidly, climb’d into the shadow of the coach, and drew a + long breath. + </p> + <p> + Then ensued a hateful pause, as the great gates were unbarr’d. I gripp’d + my knees for impatience. + </p> + <p> + The driver spoke a word to the porter, who came round to the coach door + again. + </p> + <p> + “To Mistress Finch’s, is it not?” + </p> + <p> + “Ay,” I muttered; “and quickly.” + </p> + <p> + The coachman touched up his pair. The wheels mov’d; went quicker. We were + outside the Castle. + </p> + <p> + With what relief I lean’d back as the Castle gates clos’d behind us! And + with what impatience at our slow pace I sat upright again next minute! The + wheels rumbled over the bridge, and immediately we were rolling easily + down hill, through a street of some importance: but by this time the + shutters were up along the shop fronts and very few people abroad. At the + bottom we turn’d sharp to the left along a broader thoroughfare: and then + suddenly drew up. + </p> + <p> + “Are we come?” I wonder’d. But no: ’twas the city gate, and here we had to + wait for three minutes at least, till the sentries recogniz’d the + Colonel’s coach and open’d the doors to us. They stood on this side and + that, presenting arms, as we rattled through; and next moment I was + crossing a broad bridge, with the dark Avon on either side of me, and the + vessels thick thereon, their lanterns casting long lines of yellow on the + jetty water, their masts and cordage looming up against the dull glare of + the city. + </p> + <p> + Soon we were between lines of building once more, shops, private dwellings + and warehouses intermix’d; then pass’d a tall church; and in about two + minutes more drew up again. I look’d out. + </p> + <p> + Facing me was a narrow gateway leading to a house that stood somewhat back + from the street, as if slipping away from between the lines of shops that + wedg’d it in on either hand. Over the grill a link was burning. I stepp’d + from the coach, open’d the gate, and crossing the small court, rang at the + house bell. + </p> + <p> + At first there was no answer. I rang again: and now had the satisfaction + to hear a light footfall coming. A bolt was pull’d and a girl appear’d + holding a candle high in her hand. Quick as thought, I stepped past her + into the passage. + </p> + <p> + “Delia!” + </p> + <p> + “Jack!” + </p> + <p> + “Hist! Close the door. Where is Mistress Finch?” + </p> + <p> + “Upstairs, expecting Colonel Essex. Oh, the happy day! Come—” she + led me into a narrow back room and setting down the light regarded me—“Jack, + my eyes are red for thee!” + </p> + <p> + “I see they are. To-morrow I was to be hang’d.” + </p> + <p> + She put her hands together, catching her breath: and very lovely I thought + her, in her straight grey gown and Puritan cap. + </p> + <p> + “They have been questioning me. Didst get my letter?” + </p> + <p> + The answer was on my lip when there came a sound that made us both start. + </p> + <p> + ’Twas the dull echo of a gun firing, up at the Castle. + </p> + <p> + “Delia, what lies at the back here?” + </p> + <p> + “A garden and a garden door: after these a lane leading to Redcliff + Street.” + </p> + <p> + “I must go, this moment.” + </p> + <p> + “And I?” + </p> + <p> + She did not wait my answer, but running out into the passage, she came + swiftly back with a heavy key. I open’d the window. + </p> + <p> + “Delia! De-lia!” ’Twas a woman’s voice calling her, at the head of the + stairs. + </p> + <p> + “Aye, Mistress Finch.” + </p> + <p> + “Who was that at the door?” + </p> + <p> + I sprang into the garden and held forth a hand to Delia. “In one moment, + mistress!” call’d she, and in one moment was hurrying with me across the + dark garden beds. As she fitted the key to the garden gate, I heard the + voice again. + </p> + <p> + “De-lia!” + </p> + <p> + ’Twas drown’d in a—wild <i>rat-a-tat!</i> on the street door, and + the shouts of many voices. We were close press’d. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Jack—to the right for our lives! Ah, these clumsy skirts!” + </p> + <p> + We turn’d into the lane and rac’d down it. For my part, I swore to drown + myself in Avon rather than let those troopers retake me. I heard their + outcries about the house behind us, as we stumbled over the frozen rubbish + heaps with which the lane was bestrewn. + </p> + <p> + “What’s our direction?” panted I, catching Delia’s hand to help her along. + </p> + <p> + “To the left now—for the river.” + </p> + <p> + We struck into a narrow side street; and with that heard a watchman bawl— + </p> + <p> + “<i>Past nine o’ the night, an’ a—!</i>” + </p> + <p> + The shock of our collision sent him to finish his say in the gutter. + </p> + <p> + “Thieves!” he yell’d. + </p> + <p> + But already we were twenty yards away, and now in a broader street, + whereof one side was wholly lin’d with warehouses. And here, to our + dismay, we heard shouts behind, and the noise of feet running. + </p> + <p> + About halfway down the street I spied a gateway standing ajar, and pull’d + Delia aside, into a courtyard litter’d with barrels and timbers, and + across it to a black empty barn of a place, where a flight of wooden steps + glimmer’d, that led to an upper story. We climb’d these stairs at a run. + </p> + <p> + “Faugh! What a vile smell!” + </p> + <p> + The loft was pil’d high with great bales of wool, as I found by the touch, + and their odor enough to satisfy an army. Nevertheless, I was groping + about for a place to hide, when Delia touch’d me by the arm, and pointed. + </p> + <p> + Looking, I descried in the gloom a tall quadrilateral of purple, not five + steps away, with a speck of light shining near the top of it, and three + dark streaks running down the middle, whereof one was much thicker than + the rest. ’Twas an open doorway; the speck, a star fram’d within it; the + broad streak, a ship’s mast reaching up; and the lesser ones two ends of a + rope, working over a pulley above my head, and used for lowering the bales + of wool on shipboard. + </p> + <p> + Advancing, I stood on the sill and look’d down. On the black water, twenty + feet below, lay a three-masted trader, close against the warehouse. My + toes stuck out over her deck, almost. + </p> + <p> + At first glance I could see no sign of life on board: but presently was + aware of a dark figure leaning over the bulwarks, near the bows. He was + quite motionless. His back was toward us, blotted against the black + shadow; and the man engag’d only, it seem’d, in watching the bright splash + of light flung by the ship’s lantern on the water beneath him. + </p> + <p> + I resolv’d to throw myself on the mercy of this silent figure; and put out + a hand to test the rope. One end of it was fix’d to a bale of wool that + lay, as it had been lower’d, on the deck. Flinging myself on the other, I + found it sink gently from the pulley, as the weight below moved slowly + upward: and sinking with it, I held on till my feet touch’d the deck. + </p> + <p> + Still the figure in the bows was motionless. + </p> + <p> + I paid out my end of the rope softly, lowering back the bale of wool: and, + as soon as it rested again on deck, signalled to Delia to let herself + down. + </p> + <p> + She did so. As she alighted, and stood beside me, our hands bungled. The + rope slipp’d up quickly, letting down the bale with a run. + </p> + <p> + We caught at the rope, and stopp’d it just in time: but the pulley above + creak’d vociferously. I turn’d my head. + </p> + <p> + The man in the bows had not mov’d. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0010"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class='chapter'><h2> + CHAPTER X. — CAPTAIN POTTERY AND CAPTAIN SETTLE. + </h2></div> + <p> + “Now either I am mad or dreaming,” thought I: for that the fellow had not + heard our noise was to me starkly incredible. I stepp’d along the deck + toward him: not an inch did he budge. I touch’d him on the shoulder. + </p> + <p> + He fac’d round with a quick start. + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” said I, quick and low, before he could get a word out—“Sir, + we are in your hands. I will be plain. To-night I have broke out of + Bristol Keep, and the Colonel’s men are after me. Give me up to them, and + they hang me to-morrow: give my comrade up, and they persecute her vilely. + Now, sir, I know not which side you be, but there’s our case in a + nutshell.” + </p> + <p> + The man bent forward, displaying a huge, rounded face, very kindly about + the eyes, and set atop of the oddest body in the world: for under a trunk + extraordinary broad and strong, straddled a pair of legs that a baby + would have disown’d—so thin and stunted were they, and (to make it + the queerer) ended in feet the most prodigious you ever saw. + </p> + <p> + As I said, this man lean’d forward, and shouted into my ear so that I + fairly leap’d in the air— + </p> + <p> + “My name’s Pottery—Bill Pottery, cap’n o’ the <i>Godsend</i>—an’ + you can’t make me hear, not if you bust yoursel’!” + </p> + <p> + You may think this put me in a fine quandary. + </p> + <p> + “I be deaf as nails!” bawl’d he. + </p> + <p> + ’Twas horrible: for the troopers (I thought) if anywhere near, could not + miss hearing him. His voice shook the very rigging. + </p> + <p> + “... An’ o’ my crew the half ashore gettin’ drunk, an’ the half below in a + very accomplished state o’ liquor: so there’s no chance for ’ee to speak!” + </p> + <p> + He paus’d a moment, then roared again— + </p> + <p> + “What a pity! ’Cos you make me very curious—that you do!” + </p> + <p> + Luckily, at this moment, Delia had the sense to put a finger to her lip. + The man wheel’d round without another word, led us aft over the blocks, + cordage, and all manner of loose gear that encumber’d the deck, to a + ladder that, toward the stern, led down into darkness. Here he sign’d to + us to follow; and, descending first, threw open a door, letting out a + faint stream of light in our faces. ’Twas the captain’s cabin, lin’d with + cupboards and lockers: and the light came from an oil lamp hanging over a + narrow deal table. By this light Captain Billy scrutiniz’d us for an + instant: then, from one of his lockers, brought out pen, paper, and ink, + and set them on the table before me. + </p> + <p> + [Illustration: “Master Pottery shaking us both by the hand.”] + </p> + <p> + I caught up the pen, dipp’d it, and began to write— + </p> + <p> + “I am John Marvel, a servant of King Charles; and this night am escap’d + out of Bristol Castle. If you be—” + </p> + <p> + Thus far I had written without glancing up, in fear to read the + disappointment of my hopes. But now the pen was caught suddenly from my + fingers, the paper torn in shreds, and there was Master Pottery shaking us + both by the hand, nodding and becking, and smiling the while all over his + big red face. + </p> + <p> + But he ceas’d at last: and opening another of his lockers, drew forth a + horn lantern, a mallet, and a chisel. Not a word was spoken as he lit the + lantern and pass’d out of the cabin, Delia and I following at his heels. + </p> + <p> + Just outside, at the foot of the steps, he stoop’d, pull’d up a trap in + the flooring, and disclos’d another ladder stretching, as it seem’d, down + into the bowels of the ship. This we descended carefully; and found + ourselves in the hold, pinching our noses ’twixt finger and thumb. + </p> + <p> + For indeed the smell here was searching to a very painful degree: for the + room was narrow, and every inch of it contested by two puissant essences, + the one of raw wood, the other of bilge water. With wool the place was + pil’d: but also I notic’d, not far from the ladder, several casks set on + their ends; and to these the captain led us. + </p> + <p> + They were about a dozen in all, stacked close together: and Master + Pottery, rolling two apart from the rest, dragg’d them to another trap and + tugg’d out the bungs. A stream of fresh water gush’d from each and + splash’d down the trap into the bilge below. Then, having drained them, he + stay’d in their heads with a few blows of his mallet. + </p> + <p> + His plan for us was clear. And in a very few minutes Delia and I were + crouching on the timbers, each with a cask inverted over us, our noses at + the bungholes and our ears listening to Master Pottery’s footsteps as they + climb’d heavily back to deck. The rest of the casks were stack’d close + round us, so that even had the gloom allow’d, we could see nothing at all. + </p> + <p> + “Jack!” + </p> + <p> + “Delia!” + </p> + <p> + “Dost feel heroical at all?” + </p> + <p> + “Not one whit. There’s a trickle of water running down my back, to begin + with.” + </p> + <p> + “And my nose it itches; and oh, what a hateful smell! Say something to me, + Jack.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear,” said I, “there is one thing I’ve been longing these weeks to + say: but this seems an odd place for it.” + </p> + <p> + “What is’t?” + </p> + <p> + I purs’d up my lips to the bunghole, and— + </p> + <p> + “I love you,” said I. There was silence for a moment: and then, + within Delia’s cask, the sound of muffled laughter. + </p> + <p> + “Delia,” I urg’d, “I mean it, upon my oath. Wilt marry me, sweetheart?” + </p> + <p> + “Must get out of this cask first. Oh, Jack, what a dear goose thou art!” + And the laughter began again. + </p> + <p> + I was going to answer, when I heard a loud shouting overhead. ’Twas the + sound of someone hailing the ship, and thought I, “the troopers are on + us!” + </p> + <p> + They were, in truth. Soon I heard the noise of feet above and a string of + voices speaking one after another, louder and louder. And next Master + Pottery began to answer up and drown’d all speech but his own. When he + ceas’d, there was silence for some minutes: after which we heard a party + descend to the cabin, and the trampling of their feet on the boards above + us. They remain’d there some while discussing: and then came footsteps + down the second ladder, and a twinkle of light reach’d me through the + bunghole of my cask. + </p> + <p> + “Quick!” said a husky voice; “overhaul the cargo here!” + </p> + <p> + I heard some half dozen troopers bustling about the hold and tugging out + the bales of wool. + </p> + <p> + “Hi!” call’d Master Pottery: “an’ when you’ve done rummaging my ship, put + everything back as you found it.” + </p> + <p> + “Poke about with your swords,” commanded the husky voice. “What’s in those + barrels yonder?” + </p> + <p> + “Water, sergeant,” answers a trooper, rolling out a couple. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing behind them?” + </p> + <p> + “No; they’re right against the side.” + </p> + <p> + “Drop ’em then. Plague on this business! ’Tis my notion they’re a mile + a-way, and Cap’n Stubbs no better than a fool to send us back here. He’s + grudging promotion, that’s what he is! Hurry, there—hurry!” + </p> + <p> + Ten minutes later, the searchers were gone; and we in our casks drawing + long breaths of thankfulness and strong odors. And so we crouch’d till, + about midnight, Captain Billy brought us down a supper of ship’s biscuit: + which we crept forth to eat, being sorely cramp’d. + </p> + <p> + He could not hear our thanks: but guess’d them. + </p> + <p> + “Now say not a word! To-morrow we sail for Plymouth Sound: thence for + Brittany. Hist! We be all King’s men aboard the <i>Godsend</i>, tho’ + hearing nought I says little. Yet I have my reasoning heresies, holding + the Lord’s Anointed to be an anointed rogue, but nevertheless to be + serv’d: just as aboard the <i>Godsend</i> I be Cap’n Billy an’ you plain + Jack, be your virtues what they may. An’ the conclusion is—damn all + mutineers an’ rebels! Tho’, to be sure, the words be a bit lusty for a + young gentlewoman’s ears.” + </p> + <p> + We went back to our casks with lighter hearts. Howbeit ’twas near five in + the morning, I dare say, before my narrow bedchamber allow’d me to drop + asleep. + </p> + <p> + I woke to spy through my bunghole the faint light of day struggling down + the hatches. Above, I heard a clanking noise, and the voices of the men + hiccoughing a dismal chant. They were lifting anchor. I crawl’d forth and + woke Delia, who was yet sleeping: and together we ate the breakfast that + lay ready set for us on the head of a barrel. + </p> + <p> + Presently the sailors broke off their song, and we heard their feet + shuffling to and fro on deck. + </p> + <p> + “Sure,” cried Delia, “we are moving!” + </p> + <p> + And surely we were, as could be told by the alter’d sound of the water + beneath us, and the many creakings that the <i>Godsend</i> began to keep. + Once more I tasted freedom again, and the joy of living, and could have + sung for the mirth that lifted my heart. “Let us but gain open sea,” said + I, “and I’ll have tit-for-tat with these rebels!” + </p> + <p> + But alas! before we had left Avon mouth twenty minutes, ’twas another + tale. For I lay on my side in that dark hold and long’d to die: and Delia + sat up beside me, her hands in her lap, and her great eyes fix’d most + dolefully. And when Captain Billy came down with news that we were safe + and free to go on deck, we turn’d our faces from him, and said we thank’d + him kindly, but had no longer any wish that way—too wretched, even, + to remember his deafness. + </p> + <p> + Let me avoid, then, some miserable hours, and come to the evening, when, + faint with fasting and nausea, we struggled up to the deck for air, and + look’d about us. + </p> + <p> + ’Twas grey—grey everywhere: the sky lead-colored, with deeper shades + toward the east, where a bank of cloud blotted the coast line: the thick + rain descending straight, with hardly wind enough to set the sails + flapping; the sea spread like a plate of lead, save only where, to + leeward, a streak of curded white crawled away from under the <i>Godsend’s</i> + keel. + </p> + <p> + On deck, a few sailors mov’d about, red eyed and heavy. They show’d no + surprise to see us, but nodded very friendly, with a smile for our strange + complexions. Here again, as ever, did adversity mock her own image. + </p> + <p> + But what more took our attention was to see a row of men stretch’d on the + starboard side, like corpses, their heads in the scuppers, their legs + pointed inboard, and very orderly arranged. They were a dozen and two in + all, and over them bent Captain Billy with a mop in his hand, and a bucket + by his side: who beckon’d that we should approach. + </p> + <p> + “Array’d in order o’ merit,” said he, pointing with his mop like a showman + to the line of figures before him. + </p> + <p> + We drew near. + </p> + <p> + “This here is Matt. Soames, master o’ this vessel—an’ he’s dead.” + </p> + <p> + “Dead?” + </p> + <p> + “Dead-drunk, that is. O the gifted man! Come up!” He thrust the mop in the + fellow’s heavy face. “There now! Did he move, did he wink? ‘No,’ says you. + O an accomplished drunkard!” + </p> + <p> + He paus’d a moment; then stirr’d up No. 2, who open’d one eye lazily, and + shut it again in slumber. + </p> + <p> + “You saw? Open’d one eye, hey? That’s Benjamin Halliday. The next is a + black man, as you see: a man of dismal color, and hath other drawbacks + natural to such. Can the Aethiop shift his skin? No, but he’ll open both + eyes. See there—a perfect Christian, in so far as drink can make + him.” + </p> + <p> + With like comments he ran down the line till he came to the last man, in + front of whom he stepp’d back. + </p> + <p> + “About this last—he’s a puzzler. Times I put him top o’ the list, + an’ times at the tail. That’s Ned Masters, an’ was once the Reverend + Edward Masters, Bachelor o’ Divinity in Cambridge College; but in a tavern + there fell a-talking with a certain Pelagian about Adam an’ Eve, an’ + because the fellow turn’d stubborn, put a knife into his waistband, an’ + had to run away to sea: a middling drinker only, but after a quart or so + to hear him tackle Predestination! So there be times after all when I + sets’n apart, and says, ‘Drunk, you’m no good, but half-drunk, you’m + priceless.’ Now there’s a man—” He dropp’d his mop, and, leading us + aft, pointed with admiring finger to the helmsman—a thin, wizen’d + fellow, with a face like a crab apple, and a pair of piercing grey eyes + half hidden by the droop of his wrinkled lids. “Gabriel Hutchins, how old + be you?” + </p> + <p> + “Sixty-four, come next Martinmas,” pip’d the helmsman. + </p> + <p> + “In what state o’ life?” + </p> + <p> + “Drunk.” + </p> + <p> + “How drunk?” + </p> + <p> + “As a lord!” + </p> + <p> + “Canst stand upright?” + </p> + <p> + “Hee-hee! Now could I iver do other?—a miserable ould worms to whom + the sweet effects o’ quantums be denied. When was I iver wholesomely + maz’d? Or when did I lay my grey hairs on the floor, saying, ’Tis enough, + an’ ’tis good’? Answer me that, Cap’n Bill.” + </p> + <p> + “But you hopes for the best, Gabriel.” + </p> + <p> + “Aye, I hopes—I hopes.” + </p> + <p> + The old man sigh’d as he brought the <i>Godsend</i> a point nearer the + wind; and, as we turn’d away with the Captain, was still muttering, his + sharp grey eyes fix’d on the vessel’s prow. + </p> + <p> + “He’s my best,” said Captain Billy Pottery. + </p> + <p> + With this crew we pass’d four days; and I write this much of them because + they afterward, when sober, did me a notable good turn, as you shall read + toward the end of this history. But lest you should judge them hardly, let + me say here that when they recovered of their stupor—as happen’d to + the worst after thirty-six hours—there was no brisker, handier set + of fellows on the seas. And this Captain Billy well understood: “but” + (said he) “I be a collector an’ a man o’ conscience both, which is + uncommon. Doubtless there be good sots that are not good seamen, but from + such I turn my face, drink they never so prettily.” + </p> + <p> + ’Twas necessary I should impart some notion of my errand to Captain Billy, + tho’ I confin’d myself to hints, telling him only ’twas urgent I should be + put ashore somewhere on the Cornish coast, for that I carried intelligence + which would not keep till we reached Plymouth, a town that, besides, was + held by the rebels. And he agreed readily to land me in Bude Bay: “and + also thy comrade, if (as I guess) she be so minded,” he added, glancing up + at Delia from the paper whereon I had written my request. + </p> + <p> + She had been silent of late, beyond her wont, avoiding (I thought) to meet + my eye: but answer’d simply, + </p> + <p> + “I go with Jack.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Billy, whose eyes rested on her as she spoke, beckon’d me, very + mysterious, outside the cabin, and winking slily, whisper’d loud enough to + stun one—— + </p> + <p> + “Ply her, Jack”—he had call’d me “Jack” from the first—“ply + her briskly! Womankind is but yielding flesh: ‘am an amorous man mysel’, + an’ speak but that I have prov’d.” + </p> + <p> + On this—for the whole ship could hear it—there certainly came + the sound of a stifled laugh from the other side of the cabin door: but it + did not mend my comrade’s shy humor, that lasted throughout the voyage. + </p> + <p> + To be brief, ’twas not till the fourth afternoon (by reason of baffling + head winds) that we stepped out of the <i>Godsend’s</i> boat upon a small + beach of shingle, whence, between a rift in the black cliffs, wound up the + road that was to lead us inland. The <i>Godsend</i>, as we turn’d to wave + our hands, lay at half a mile’s distance, and made a pretty sight: for the + day, that had begun with a white frost, was now turn’d sunny and still, so + that looking north we saw the sea all spread with pink and lilac and + hyacinth, and upon it the ship lit up, her masts and sails glowing like a + gold piece. And there was Billy, leaning over the bulwarks and waving his + trumpet for “Good-bye!” Thought I, for I little dream’d to see these good + fellows again, “what a witless game is this life! to seek ever in fresh + conjunctions what we leave behind in a hand shake.” ’Twas a cheap + reflection, yet it vex’d me that as we turn’d to mount the road Delia + should break out singing— + </p> + <p> + “Hey! nonni—nonni—no! Is’t not fine to laugh and sing When the + hells of death do ring!—” + </p> + <p> + “Why, no,” said I, “I don’t think it”: and capp’d her verse with another— + </p> + <p> + “Silly man, the cost to find Is to leave as good behind—” + </p> + <p> + “Jack, for pity’s sake, stop!” She put her fingers to her ears. “What a + nasty, creaking voice thou hast, to be sure!” + </p> + <p> + “That’s as a man may hold,” said I, nettled. + </p> + <p> + “No, indeed: yours is a very poor voice, but mine is beautiful. So + listen.” + </p> + <p> + She went on to sing as she went, “Green as grass is my kirtle,” “Tire me + in tiffany,” “Come ye bearded men-at-arms,” and “The Bending Rush.” All + these she sang, as I must confess, most delicately well, and then fac’d + me, with a happy smile— + </p> + <p> + “Now, have not I a sweet voice? Why, Jack—art still glum?” + </p> + <p> + “Delia,” answer’d I, “you have first to give me a reply to what, four days + agone, I ask’d you. Dear girl—nay then, dear comrade—” + </p> + <p> + I broke off, for she had come to a stop, wringing her hands and looking in + my face most dolefully. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear—oh, dear! Jack, we have had such merry times: and you are + spoiling all the fun!” + </p> + <p> + We follow’d the road after this very moodily; for Delia, whom I had made + sharer of the rebels’ secret, agreed that no time was to be lost in + reaching Bodmin, that lay a good thirty miles to the southwest. Night fell + and the young moon rose, with a brisk breeze at our backs that kept us + still walking without any feeling of weariness. Captain Billy had given me + at parting a small compass, of new invention, that a man could carry + easily in his pocket; and this from time to time I examin’d in the + moonlight, guiding our way almost due south, in hopes of striking into the + main road westward. I doubt not we lost a deal of time among the byways; + but at length happen’d on a good road bearing south, and follow’d it till + daybreak, when to our satisfaction we spied a hill in front, topp’d with a + stout castle, and under it a town of importance, that we guess’d to be + Launceston. + </p> + <p> + By this, my comrade and I were on the best of terms again; and now drew up + to consider if we should enter the town or avoid it to the west, trusting + to find a breakfast in some tavern on the way. Because we knew not with + certainty the temper of the country, it seem’d best to choose this second + course: so we fetch’d around by certain barren meadows, and thought + ourselves lucky to hit on a road that, by the size, must be the one we + sought, and a tavern with a wide yard before it and a carter’s van + standing at the entrance, not three gunshots from the town walls. + </p> + <p> + “Now Providence hath surely led us to breakfast,” said Delia, and stepped + before me into the yard, toward the door. + </p> + <p> + I was following her when, inside of a gate to the right of the house, I + caught the gleam of steel, and turn’d aside to look. + </p> + <p> + To my dismay there stood near a score of chargers in this second court, + saddled and dripping with sweat. My first thought was to run after Delia; + but a quick surprise made me rub my eyes with wonder— + </p> + <p> + ’Twas the sight of a sorrel mare among them—a mare with one high + white stocking. In a thousand I could have told her for Molly. + </p> + <p> + Three seconds after I was at the tavern door, and in my ears a voice + sounding that stopp’d me short and told me in one instant that without + God’s help all was lost. + </p> + <p> + ’Twas the voice of Captain Settle speaking in the taproom; and already + Delia stood, past concealment, by the open door. + </p> + <p> + “... And therefore, master carter, it grieves me to disappoint thee; but + no man goeth this day toward Bodmin. Such be my Lord of Stamford’s orders, + whose servant I am, and as captain of this troop I am sent to exact them. + As they displease you, his lordship is but twenty-four hours behind: you + can abide him and complain. Doubtless he will hear—<i>ten million + devils!</i>” + </p> + <p> + I heard his shout as he caught sight of Delia. I saw his crimson face as + he darted out and gripp’d her. I saw, or half saw, the troopers crowding + out after him. For a moment I hesitated. Then came my pretty comrade’s + voice, shrill above the hubbub— + </p> + <p> + “Jack—they have horses outside! Leave me—I am ta’en—and + ride, dear lad—ride!” + </p> + <p> + In a flash my decision was taken, for better or worse. I dash’d out around + the house, vaulted the gate, and catching at Molly’s mane, leap’d into the + saddle. + </p> + <p> + A dozen troopers were at the gate, and two had their pistols levell’d. + </p> + <p> + “Surrender!” + </p> + <p> + “Be hang’d if I do!” + </p> + <p> + I set my teeth and put Molly at the low wall. As she rose like a bird in + air the two pistols rang out together, and a burning pain seem’d to tear + open my left shoulder. In a moment the mare alighted safe on the other + side, flinging me forward on her neck. But I scrambled back, and with a + shout that frighten’d my own ears, dug my heels into her flanks. + </p> + <p> + Half a minute more and I was on the hard road, galloping westward for dear + life. So also were a score of rebel troopers. Twenty miles and more lay + before me; and a bare hundred yards was all my start. + </p> + <p> + [Illustration: The two pistols rang out together.] + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0011"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class='chapter'><h2> + CHAPTER XI. — I RIDE DOWN INTO TEMPLE: AND AM WELL TREATED THERE. + </h2></div> + <p> + And now I did indeed abandon myself to despair. Few would have given a + groat for my life, with that crew at my heels; and I least of all, now + that my dear comrade was lost. The wound in my shoulder was bleeding sore—I + could feel the warm stream welling—yet not so sore as my heart. And + I pressed my knees into the saddle flap, and wondered what the end would + be. + </p> + <p> + The sorrel mare was galloping, free and strong, her delicate ears laid + back, and the network of veins under her soft skin working with the heave + and fall of her withers: yet—by the mud and sweat about her—I + knew she must have travelled far before I mounted. I heard a shot or two + fired, far up the road: tho’ their bullets must have fallen short: at + least, I heard none whiz past. But the rebels’ shouting was clear enough, + and the thud of their gallop behind. + </p> + <p> + I think that, for a mile or two, I must have ridden in a sort of swoon. + ’Tis certain, not an inch of the road comes back to me: nor did I once + turn my head to look back, but sat with my eyes fastened stupidly on the + mare’s neck. And by-and-bye, as we galloped, the smart of my wound, the + heartache, hurry, pounding of hoofs—all dropp’d to an enchanting + lull. I rode, and that was all. + </p> + <p> + For, swoon or no, I was lifted off earth, as it seemed, and on easy wings + to an incredible height, where were no longer hedges, nor road, nor + country round; but a great stillness, and only the mare and I running + languidly through it. + </p> + <p> + “Ride!” + </p> + <p> + Now, at first, I thought ’twas someone speaking this in my ear, and turn’d + my head. But ’twas really the last word I had heard from Delia, now after + half an hour repeated in my brain. And as I grew aware of this, the + dullness fell off me, and all became very distinct. And the muscles about + my wound had stiffen’d—which was vilely painful: and the country, I + saw, was a brown, barren moor, dotted with peat-ricks: and I cursed it. + </p> + <p> + This did me good: for it woke the fighting-man in me, and I set my teeth. + Now for the first time looking back, I saw, with a great gulp of joy, I + had gained on the troopers. A long dip of the road lay between me and the + foremost, now topping the crest. The sun had broke through at last, and + sparkled on his cap and gorget. I whistled to Molly (I could not pat her), + and spoke to her softly: the sweet thing prick’d up her ears, laid them + back again, and mended her pace. Her stride was beautiful to feel. + </p> + <p> + I had yet no clear idea how to escape. In front the moors rose gradually, + swelling to the horizon line, and there broken into steep, jagged heights. + The road under me was sound white granite and stretch’d away till lost + among these fastnesses—in all of it no sign of man’s habitation. Be + sure I look’d along it, and to right and left, dreading to spy more + troopers. But for mile on mile, all was desolate. + </p> + <p> + Now and then I caught the cry of a pewit, or saw a snipe glance up from + his bed; but mainly I was busied about the mare. “Let us but gain the + ridge ahead,” thought I, “and there is a chance.” So I rode as light as I + could, husbanding her powers. + </p> + <p> + She was going her best, but the best was near spent. The sweat was oozing, + her satin coat losing the gloss, the spume flying back from her nostrils—“Soh!” + I called to her: “Soh! my beauty; we ride to save an army!” The loose + stones flew right and left, as she reach’d out her neck, and her breath + came shorter and shorter. + </p> + <p> + A mile, and another mile, we passed in this trim, and by the end of it + must have spent three-quarters of an hour at the work. Glancing back, I + saw the troopers scattered; far behind, but following. The heights were + still a weary way ahead: but I could mark their steep sides ribb’d with + boulders. Till these were passed, there was no chance to hide. The parties + in this race could see each other all the way, and must ride it out. + </p> + <p> + And all the way the ground kept rising. I had no means to ease the mare, + even by pulling off my heavy jack-boots, with one arm (and that my right) + dangling useless. Once she flung up her head and I caught sight of her + nostril, red as fire, and her poor eyes starting. I felt her strength + ebbing between my knees. Here and there she blundered in her stride. And + somewhere, over the ridge yonder, lay the Army of the West, and we alone + could save it. + </p> + <p> + The road, for half a mile, now fetched a sudden loop, though the country + on either side was level enough. Had my head been cool, I must have + guessed a reason for this: but, you must remember, I had long been giddy + with pain and loss of blood—so, thinking to save time, I turned + Molly off the granite, and began to cut across. + </p> + <p> + The short grass and heath being still frozen, we went fairly for the first + minute or so. But away behind us, I heard a shout—and it must have + been loud to reach me. I learn’d the meaning when, about two hundred yards + before we came on the road again, the mare’s forelegs went deep, and next + minute we were plunging in a black peat-quag. + </p> + <p> + Heaven can tell how we won through. It must have been still partly frozen, + and perhaps we were only on the edge of it. I only know that as we + scrambled up on solid ground, plastered and breathless, I looked at the + wintry sun, the waste, and the tall hill tow’ring to the right of us, and + thought it a strange place to die in. + </p> + <p> + For the struggle had burst open my wound again, and the blood was running + down my arm and off my fingers in a stream. And now I could count every + gorsebush, every stone—and now I saw nothing at all. And I heard the + tinkling of bells: and then found a tune running in my head—’twas + “Tire me in tiffany,” and I tried to think where last I heard it. + </p> + <p> + But sweet gallant Molly must have held on: for the next thing I woke up to + was a four-hol’d cross beside the road: and soon after we were over the + ridge and clattering down hill. + </p> + <p> + A rough tor had risen full in front, but the road swerved to the left and + took us down among the spurs of it. Now was my last lookout. I tried to + sway less heavily in the saddle, and with my eyes searched the plain at + our feet. + </p> + <p> + Alas! Beneath us the waste land was spread, mile upon mile: and I groaned + aloud. For just below I noted a clump of roofless cabins, and beyond, upon + the moors, the dotted walls of sheep-cotes, ruined also: but in all the + sad-color’d leagues no living man, nor the sign of one. It was done with + us. I reined up the mare—and then, in the same motion, wheeled her + sharp to the right. + </p> + <p> + High above, on the hillside, a voice was calling. + </p> + <p> + I look’d up. Below the steeper ridge of the tor a patch of land had been + cleared for tillage: and here a yoke of oxen was moving leisurely before a + plough (’twas their tinkling bells I had heard, just now); while behind + followed the wildest shape—by the voice, a woman. + </p> + <p> + She was not calling to me, but to her team: and as I put Molly at the + slope, her chant rose and fell in the mournfullest singsong. + </p> + <p> + “So-hoa! Oop Comely Vean! oop, then—o-oop!” + </p> + <p> + I rose in my stirrups and shouted. + </p> + <p> + At this and the sound of hoofs, she stay’d the plough and, hand on hip, + looked down the slope. The oxen, softly rattling the chains on their yoke, + turn’d their necks and gazed. With sunk head Molly heaved herself up the + last few yards and came to a halt with a stagger. I slipp’d out of the + saddle and stood, with a hand on it, swaying. + </p> + <p> + “What’s thy need, young man—that comest down to Temple wi’ sword + a-danglin’?” + </p> + <p> + The girl was a half-naked savage, dress’d only in a strip of sacking that + barely reach’d her knees, and a scant bodice of the same, lac’d in front + with pack thread, that left her bosom and brown arms free. Yet she + appear’d no whit abash’d, but lean’d on the plough-tail and regarded me, + easy and frank, as a man would. + </p> + <p> + “Sell me a horse,” I blurted out: “Twenty guineas will I give for one + within five minutes, and more if he be good! I ride on the King’s errand.” + </p> + <p> + “Then get thee back to thy master, an’ say, no horse shall he have o’ me—nor + any man that uses horseflesh so.” She pointed to Molly’s knees, that were + bow’d and shaking, and the bloody froth dripping from her mouth. + </p> + <p> + “Girl, for God’s sake sell me a horse! They are after me, and I am hurt.” + I pointed up the road. “Better than I are concerned in this.” + </p> + <p> + “God nor King know I, young man. But what’s on thy saddle cloth, there?” + </p> + <p> + ’Twas the smear where my blood had soak’d: and looking and seeing the + purple mess cak’d with mud and foam on the sorrel’s flank, I felt suddenly + very sick. The girl made a step to me. + </p> + <p> + “Sell thee a horse? Hire thee a bedman, more like. Nay, then, lad—” + </p> + <p> + But I saw her no longer: only called “oh-oh!” twice, like a little child, + and slipping my hold of the saddle, dropp’d forward on her breast. + </p> +<div class="pre"> + * * * * * * * +</div> + <p> + Waking, I found myself in darkness—not like that of night, but of a + room where the lights have gone out: and felt that I was dying. But this + hardly seem’d a thing to be minded. There was a smell of peat and bracken + about. Presently I heard the tramp of feet somewhere overhead, and a dull + sound of voices that appear’d to be cursing. + </p> + <p> + The footsteps went to and fro, the voices muttering most of the time. + After a bit I caught a word—“Witchcraft”: and then a voice speaking + quite close—“There’s blood ’pon her hands, an’ there’s blood yonder + by the plough.” Said another voice, higher and squeaky, “there’s scent + behind a fox, but you don’t dig it up an’ take it home.” The tramp passed + on, and the voices died away. + </p> + <p> + By this I knew the troopers were close, and seeking me. A foolish thought + came that I was buried, and they must be rummaging over my grave: but + indeed I had no wish to enquire into it; no wish to move even, but just to + lie and enjoy the lightness of my limbs. The blood was still running. I + felt the warmth of it against my back: and thought it very pleasant. So I + shut my eyes and dropp’d off again. + </p> + <p> + Then I heard the noise of shouting, far away: and a long while after that, + was rous’d by the touch of a hand, thrust in against my naked breast, over + my heart. + </p> + <p> + “Who is it?” I whispered. + </p> + <p> + “Joan,” answered a voice, and the hand was withdrawn. + </p> + <p> + The darkness had lifted somewhat, and though something stood between me + and the light, I mark’d a number of small specks, like points of gold + dotted around me— + </p> + <p> + “Joan—what besides?” + </p> + <p> + “Joan’s enough, I reckon: lucky for thee ’tis none else. Joan o’ the Tor + folks call me, but may jet be Joan i’ Good Time. So hold thy peace, lad, + an’ cry out so little as may be.” + </p> + <p> + I felt a ripping of my jacket sleeve and shirt, now clotted and stuck to + the flesh. It pain’d cruelly, but I shut my teeth: and after that came the + smart and delicious ache of water, as she rinsed the wound. + </p> + <p> + “Clean through the flesh, lad:—in an’ out, like country dancin’. No + bullet to probe nor bone to set. Heart up, soce! Thy mother shall kiss + thee yet. What’s thy name?” + </p> + <p> + “Marvel, Joan—Jack Marvel.” + </p> + <p> + “An’ marvel ’tis thou’rt Marvel yet. Good blood there’s in thee, but + little enow.” + </p> + <p> + She bandaged the sore with linen torn from my shirt, and tied it round + with sackcloth from her own dress. ’Twas all most gently done: and then I + found her arms under me, and myself lifted as easy as a baby. + </p> + <p> + “Left arm round my neck, Jack: an’ sing out if ’tis hurtin’ thee.” + </p> + <p> + It seemed but six steps and we were out on the bright hillside, not fifty + paces from where the plough yet stood in the furrow. I caught a glimpse of + a brown neck and a pair of firm red lips, of the grey tor stretching above + us and, further aloft, a flock of field fare hanging in the pale sky; and + then shut my eyes for the dazzle: but could still feel the beat of Joan’s + heart as she held me close, and the touch of her breath on my forehead. + </p> + <p> + Down the hill she carried me, picking the softest turf, and moving with an + easeful swing that rather lull’d my hurt than jolted it. I was dozing, + even, when a strange noise awoke me. + </p> + <p> + ’Twas a high protracted note, that seem’d at first to swell up toward us, + and then broke off in half a dozen or more sharp yells. Joan took no heed + of them, but seeing my eyes unclose, and hearing me moan, stopped short. + </p> + <p> + “Hurts thee, lad?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” ’Twas not my pain but the sight of the sinking sun that wrung the + exclamation from me—“I was thinking,” I muttered. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t: ’tis bad for health. But bide thee still a-while, and shalt lie + ’pon a soft bed.” + </p> + <p> + By this time, we had come down to the road: and the yells were still going + on, louder than ever. We cross’d the road, descended another slope, and + came all at once on a low pile of buildings that a moment before had been + hid. ’Twas but three hovels of mud, stuck together in the shape of a + headless cross, the main arm pointing out toward the moor. Around the + whole ran a battered wall, patched with furs; and from this dwelling the + screams were issuing— + </p> + <p> + “Joan!” the voice began, “Joan—Jan Tergagle’s a-clawin’ my legs—Gar-rout, + thou hell cat—Blast thee, let me zog! Pull’n off Joan—Jo-an!” + </p> + <p> + The voice died away into a wail; then broke out in a racket of curses. + Joan stepped to the door and flung it wide. As my eyes grew used to the + gloom inside, they saw this:— + </p> + <p> + A rude kitchen—the furniture but two rickety chairs, now toss’d on + their faces, an oak table, with legs sunk into the earth, a keg of strong + waters, tilted over and draining upon the mud floor, a ladder leading up + to a loft, and in two of the corners a few bundles of bracken strewn for + bedding. To the left, as one entered, was an open hearth; but the glowing + peat-turves were now pitch’d to right and left over the hearthstone and + about the floor, where they rested, filling the den with smoke. Under one + of the chairs a black cat spat and bristled: while in the middle of the + room, barefooted in the embers, crouched a man. He was half naked, old and + bent, with matted grey hair and beard hanging almost to his waist. His + chest and legs were bleeding from a score of scratches; and he pointed at + the cat, opening and shutting his mouth like a dog, and barking out curse + upon curse. + </p> + <p> + No way upset, Joan stepped across the kitchen, laid me on one of the + bracken beds, and explain’d— + </p> + <p> + “That’s feyther: he’s drunk.” + </p> + <p> + With which she turn’d, dealt the old man a cuff that stretch’d him + senseless, and gathering up the turves, piled them afresh on the hearth. + This done, she took the keg and gave me a drink of it. The stuff scalded + me, but I thanked her. And then, when she had shifted my bed a bit, to + ease the pain of lying, she righted a chair, drew it up and sat beside me. + The old man lay like a log where he had fallen, and was now snoring. + Presently, the fumes of the liquor, or mere faintness, mastered me, and my + eyes closed. But the picture they closed upon was that of Joan, as she + lean’d forward, chin on hand, with the glow of the fire on her brown skin + and in the depths of her dark eyes. + </p> + <p> + [Illustration: Joan] + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0012"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class='chapter'><h2> + CHAPTER XII. — HOW JOAN SAVED THE ARMY OF THE WEST; AND SAW THE + FIGHT ON BRADDOCK DOWN. + </h2></div> + <p> + But the pain of my hurt followed into my dreams. I woke with a start, and + tried to sit up. + </p> + <p> + Within the kitchen all was quiet. The old savage was still stretch’d on + the floor: the cat curled upon the hearth. The girl had not stirr’d: but + looking toward the window hole, I saw night out side, and a frosty star + sparkling far down in the west. + </p> + <p> + “Joan, what’s the hour?” + </p> + <p> + “Sun’s been down these four hours.” She turned her face to look at me. + </p> + <p> + “I’ve no business lying here.” + </p> + <p> + “Chose to come, lad: none axed thee, that <i>I</i> knows by.” + </p> + <p> + “Where’s the mare? Must set me across her back, Joan, and let me ride on.” + </p> + <p> + “Mare’s in stable, wi’ fetlocks swelled like puddens. Chose to come, lad; + an’ choose or no, must bide.” + </p> + <p> + “’Tis for the General Hopton, at Bodmin, I am bound, Joan; and wound or + no, must win there this night.” + </p> + <p> + “And that’s seven mile away: wi’ a bullet in thy skull, and a peat quag + thy burial. For <i>they</i> went south, and thy road lieth more south than + west.” + </p> + <p> + “The troopers?” + </p> + <p> + “Aye, Jack: an’ work I had this day wi’ those same bloody warriors: but + take a sup at the keg, and bite this manchet of oat cake while I tell + thee.” + </p> + <p> + And so, having fed me, and set my bed straight, she sat on the floor + beside me (for the better hearing), and in her uncouth tongue, told how I + had been saved. I cannot write her language; but the tale, in sum, was + this:— + </p> + <p> + When I dropp’d forward into her arms, Joan for a moment was taken aback, + thinking me dead. But (to quote her) “‘no good,’ said I, ‘in cuddlin’ a + lad ’pon the hillside, for folks to see, tho’ he <i>have</i> a-got curls + like a wench: an’ dead or ‘live, no use to wait for others to make sure.’” + </p> + <p> + So she lifted and carried me to a spot hard by, that she called the “Jew’s + Kitchen;” and where that was, even with such bearings as I had, she defied + me to discover. There was no time to tend me, whilst Molly stood near to + show my whereabouts: so she let me lie, and went to lead the sorrel down + to stable. + </p> + <p> + Her hand was on the bridle when she heard a <i>Whoop!</i> up the road; and + there were half a dozen riders on the crest, and tearing down hill toward + her. Joan had nothing left but to feign coolness, and went on leading the + mare down the slope. + </p> + <p> + In a while, up comes the foremost trooper, draws rein, and pants out + “Where’s he to?” + </p> + <p> + “Who?” asks Joan, making out to be surprised. + </p> + <p> + “Why, the lad whose mare thou’rt leadin’?” + </p> + <p> + “Mile an’ half away by now.” + </p> + <p> + “How’s that?” + </p> + <p> + “Freshly horsed,” explains Joan. + </p> + <p> + The troopers—they were all around her by this—swore ’twas a + lie; but luckily, being down in the hollow, could not see over the next + ridge. They began a string of questions all together: but at last a little + tun bellied sergeant call’d “Silence!” and asked the girl, “did she loan + the fellow a horse?” + </p> + <p> + Here I will quote her again:— + </p> + <p> + “‘Sir, to thee,’ I answer’d, ‘no loan at all, but fair swap for our Grey + Robin.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘That’s a lie,’ he says; ’an’ I won’t believe thee.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Might so well,’ says I; ‘but go to stable, an’ see for thysel’ (Never + had grey horse to my name, Jack; but, thinks I, that’s <i>his’n</i> + lookout.)” + </p> + <p> + They went, did these simple troopers, to look at the stable, and sure + enough, there was no Grey Robin. Nevertheless, some amongst them had logic + enough to take this as something less than proof convincing, and spent + three hours and more ransacking the house and barn, and searching the tor + and the moors below it. I learn’d too, that Joan had come in for some + rough talk—to which she put a stop, as she told me, by offering to + fight any man Jack of them for the buttons on his buffcoat. And at length, + about sundown, they gave up the hunt, and road away over the moors toward + Warleggan, having (as the girl heard them say) to be at Braddock before + night. + </p> + <p> + “Where is this Braddock?” + </p> + <p> + “Nigh to Lord Mohun’s house at Boconnoc: seven mile away to the south, and + seven mile or so from Bodmin, as a crow flies.” + </p> + <p> + “Then go I must,” cried I: and hereupon I broke out with all the trouble + that was on my mind, and the instant need to save these gallant gentlemen + of Cornwall, ere two armies should combine against them. I told of the + King’s letter in my breast, and how I found the Lord Stamford’s men at + Launceston; how that Ruthen, with the vanguard of the rebels, was now at + Liskeard, with but a bare day’s march between the two, and none but I to + carry the warning. And “Oh, Joan!” I cried, “my comrade I left upon the + road. Brighter courage and truer heart never man proved, and yet left by + me in the rebels’ hands. Alas! that I could neither save nor help, but + must still ride on: and here is the issue—to lie struck down within + ten mile of my goal—I, that have traveled two hundred. And if the + Cornishmen be not warned to give fight before Lord Stamford come up, all’s + lost. Even now they be outnumber’d. So lift me, Joan, and set me astride + Molly, and I’ll win to Bodmin yet.” + </p> + <p> + “Reckon, Jack, thou’d best hand <i>me</i> thy letter.” + </p> + <p> + Now, I did not at once catch the intent of these words, so simply spoken; + but stared at her like an owl. + </p> + <p> + “There’s horse in stall, lad,” she went on, “tho’ no Grey Robin. + Tearaway’s the name, and strawberry the color.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Joan, Joan, if you do this—feel inside my coat here, to the + left—you will save an army, girl, maybe a throne! Here ’tis, Joan, + see—no, not that—here! Say the seal is that of the Governor of + Bristol, who stole it from me for a while: but the handwriting will be + known for the King’s: and no hand but yours must touch it till you stand + before Sir Ralph Hopton. The King shall thank you, Joan; and God will + bless you for’t.” + </p> + <p> + “Hope so, I’m sure. But larn me what to say, lad: for I be main thick + witted.” + </p> + <p> + So I told her the message over and over, till she had it by heart. + </p> + <p> + “Shan’t forgit, now,” she said, at length; “an’ so hearken to me for a + change. Bide still, nor fret thysel’. Here’s pasty an’ oat cake, an’ a keg + o’ water that I’ll stow beside thee. Pay no heed to feyther, an’ if he + wills to get drunk an’ fight wi’ Jan Tergagle—that’s the cat—why + let’n. Drunk or sober, he’s no ’count.” + </p> + <p> + She hid the letter in her bosom, and stepp’d to the door. On the threshold + she turned— + </p> + <p> + “Jack—forgot to ax: what be all this bloodshed about?” + </p> + <p> + “For Church and King, Joan.” + </p> + <p> + “H’m: same knowledge ha’ I o’ both—an’ that’s naught. But I dearly + loves fair play.” + </p> + <p> + She was gone. In a minute or so I heard the trampling of a horse: and + then, with a scurry of hoofs, Joan was off on the King’s errand, and + riding into the darkness. + </p> + <p> + Little rest had I that night; but lay awake on my bracken bed and watched + the burning peat-turves turn to grey, and drop, flake by flake, till only + a glowing point remained. The door rattled now and then on the hinge: out + on the moor the light winds kept a noise persistent as town dogs at + midnight: and all the while my wound was stabbing, and the bracken + pricking me till I groaned aloud. + </p> + <p> + As day began to break, the old man picked himself up, yawned and lounged + out, returning after a time with fresh turves for the hearth. He noticed + me no more than a stone, but when the fire was restack’d, drew up his + chair to the warmth, and breakfasted on oat cake and a liberal deal of + liquor. Observing him, the black cat uncoil’d, stretch’d himself, and + climbing to his master’s knee, sat there purring, and the best of friends. + I also judged it time to breakfast: found my store: took a bite or two, + and a pull at the keg, and lay back—this time to sleep. + </p> + <p> + When I woke, ’twas high noon. The door stood open, and outside on the wall + the winter sunshine was lying, very bright and clear. Indoors, the old + savage had been drinking steadily; and still sat before the fire, with the + cat on one knee, and his keg on the other. I sat up and strain’d my ears. + Surely, if Joan had not failed, the royal generals would march out and + give battle at once: and surely, if they were fighting, not ten miles + away, some sound of it would reach me. But beyond the purring of the cat, + I heard nothing. + </p> + <p> + I crawl’d to my feet, rested a moment to stay the giddiness, and totter’d + across to the door, where I lean’d, listening and gazing south. No strip + of vapor lay on the moors that stretch’d—all bathed in the most + wonderful bright colors—to the lip of the horizon. The air was like + a sounding board. I heard the bleat of an old wether, a mile off, upon the + tors; and was turning away dejected, when, far down in the south, there + ran a sound that set my heart leaping. + </p> + <p> + ’Twas the crackling of musketry. + </p> + <p> + There was no mistaking it. The noise ran like wildfire along the hills: + before echo could overtake it, a low rumbling followed, and then the + brisker crackling again. I caught at the door post and cried, faint with + the sudden joy— + </p> + <p> + “Thou angel, Joan!—thou angel!” + </p> + <p> + And then, as something took me by the throat—“Joan, Joan—to + see what thou seest!” + </p> + <p> + A long time I lean’d by the door post there, drinking in the sound that + now was renewed at quicker intervals. Yet, for as far as I could see, + ’twas the peacefullest scene, though dreary—quiet sunshine on the + hills, and the sheep dotted here and there, cropping. But down yonder, + over the edge of the moors, men were fighting and murdering each other: + and I yearn’d to see how the day went. + </p> + <p> + Being both weak and loth to miss a sound of it, I sank down on the + threshold, and there lay, with my eyes turned southward, through a gap in + the stone fence. In a while the musketry died away, and I wondered: but + thought I could still at times mark a low sound as of men shouting, and + this, as I learn’d after, was the true battle. + </p> + <p> + It must have been an hour or more before I saw a number of black specks + coming over the ridge of hills, and swarming down into the plain toward + me: and then a denser body following. ’Twas a company of horse, moving at + a great pace: and I guessed that the battle was done, and these were the + first fugitives of the beaten army. + </p> + <p> + On they came, in great disorder, scattering as they advanced: and now, in + parts, the hill behind was black with footmen, running. ’Twas a rout, sure + enough. Once or twice, on the heights, I heard a bugle blown, as if to + rally the crowd: but saw nothing come of it, and presently the notes + ceased, or I forgot to listen. + </p> + <p> + The foremost company of horse was heading rather to the eastward of me, to + gain the high road; and the gross pass’d me by at half a mile’s distance. + But some came nearer, and to my extreme joy, I learn’d from their arms and + shouting, what till now I had been eagerly hoping, that ’twas the rebel + army thus running in rout: and tho’ now without strength to kneel, I had + enough left to thank God heartily. + </p> + <p> + ’Twas so curious to see the plain thus suddenly fill’d with rabble, all + running from the south, and the silly startled sheep rushing + helter-skelter, and huddling together on the tors above, that I forgot my + own likely danger if any of this revengeful crew should come upon me lying + there: and was satisfied to watch them as they straggled over the moors + toward the road. Some pass’d close to the cottage; but none seem’d anxious + to pause there. ’Twas a glad and a sorry sight. I saw a troop of dragoons + with a standard in their midst; and a drummer running behind, too far + distracted even to cast his drum away, so that it dangled against his + back, with a great rent where the music had been; and then two troopers + running together; and one that was wounded lay down for a while within a + stone’s throw of me, and would not go further, till at last his comrade + persuaded him; and after them a larger company, in midst of whom was a man + crying, “We are sold, I tell ye, and I can point to the man!” and so + passed by. There were some, too, that were galloping three stout horses in + a carriage, and upon it a brass twelve pounder. But the carriage stuck + fast in a quag, and so they cut the traces and left it there, where, two + days after, Sir John Berkeley’s dragoons found and pulled it out. And this + was the fourth, I had heard, that the King’s troops took in that victory. + </p> + <p> + Yet there were not above five or six hundred in all that I saw; and I + guessed (as was the case) that this must be but an off-shoot, so to say, + of the bigger rout that pass’d eastward through Liskeard. I was thinking + of this when I heard footsteps near, and a man came panting through a gap + in the wall, into the yard. + </p> + <p> + He was a big, bareheaded fellow, exceedingly flush’d with running, but + unhurt, as far as I could see. Indeed, he might easily have kill’d me, and + for a moment I thought sure he would. But catching sight of me, he nodded + very friendly, and sitting on a heap of stones a yard or two away, began + to draw off his boot, and search for a prickle, that it seem’d had got + into it. + </p> + <p> + “’Tis a mess of it, yonder,” said he, quietly, and jerk’d his thumb over + his shoulder. + </p> + <p> + By the look of me, he could tell I was on the other side; but this did not + appear to concern him. + </p> + <p> + “How has it gone?” asked I. “Well,” says he, with his nose in the + boot; “we had a pretty rising ground, and the Cornishmen march’d up and + whipp’d us out—that’s all—and took a mort o’ prisoners.” He + found the prickle, drew on his boot again, and asked— + </p> + <p> + “T’other side?” + </p> + <p> + I nodded. + </p> + <p> + “That’s the laughing side, this day. Good evening.” + </p> + <p> + And with that he went off as fast as he came. + </p> + <p> + ’Twas, may be, an hour after, that another came in through the same gap: + this time a lean, hawk-eyed man, with a pinch’d face and two ugly gashes—one + across the brow from left eye to the roots of his hair, the other in his + leg below the knee, that had sliced through boot and flesh like a + scythe-cut. His face was smear’d with blood, and he carried a musket. + </p> + <p> + “Water!” he bark’d out as he came trailing into the yard. “Give me water—I’m + a dead man!” + </p> + <p> + He was stepping over me to enter the kitchen, when he halted and said— + </p> + <p> + “Art a malignant, for certain!” + </p> + <p> + And before I had a chance to reply, his musket was swung up, and I felt my + time was come to die. + </p> + <p> + But now the old savage, that had been sitting all day before his fire, + without so much as a sign to show if he noticed aught that was passing, + jump’d up with a yell and leap’d toward us. He and the cat were on the + poor wretch together, tearing and clawing. I can hear their hellish + outcries to this day: but at the moment they turn’d me faint. And the next + thing I recall is being dragged inside by the old man, who shut the door + after me and slipp’d the bolt, leaving the wounded trooper on the other + side. He beat against it for some time, sobbing piteously for water: and + then I heard him groaning at intervals, till he died. At least, the groans + ceased; and next day he was found with his back against the cottage wall, + stark and dead. + </p> + <p> + Having pulled me inside, Joan’s father must have thought he had done + enough: for on the floor I lay for hours, and passed from one swoon into + another. He and the cat had gone back to the fire again, and long before + evening both were sound asleep. + </p> + <p> + So there I lay helpless, till, at nightfall, there came the trampling of a + horse outside, and then a rap on the door. The old man started up and + opened it: and in rushed Joan, her eyes lit up, her breast heaving, and in + her hand a naked sword. + </p> + <p> + “Church and King, Jack!” she cried, and flung the blade with a clang on to + the table. “Church and King! O brave day’s work, lad—O bloody work + this day!” + </p> + <p> + And I swooned again. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0013"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class='chapter'><h2> + CHAPTER XIII. — I BUY A LOOKING GLASS AT BODMIN FAIR: AND MEET WITH + MR. HANNIBAL + </h2></div> + <h3> + TINGCOMB. + </h3> + <p> + There had, indeed, been brave work on Braddock Down that 19th of January. + For Sir Ralph Hopton with the Cornish grandees had made short business of + Ruthen’s army—driving it headlong back on Liskeard at the first + charge, chasing it through that town, and taking 1,200 prisoners + (including Sir Shilston Calmady), together with many colors, all the rebel + ordnance and ammunition, and most of their arms. At Liskeard, after + refreshing their men, and holding next day a solemn thanksgiving to God, + they divided—the Lord Mohun with Sir Ralph Hopton and Colonel + Godolphin marching with the greater part of the army upon Saltash, whither + Ruthen had fled and was entrenching himself; while Sir John Berkeley and + Colonel Ashburnham, with a small party of horse and dragoons and the + voluntary regiments of Sir Bevill Grenville, Sir Nich. Slanning, and + Colonel Trevanion, turned to the northeast, toward Launceston and + Tavistock, to see what account they might render of the Earl of Stamford’s + army; that, however, had no stomach to await them, but posted out of the + county into Plymouth and Exeter. + </p> + <p> + ’Twas on this expedition that two or three of the captains I have + mentioned halted for an hour or more at Temple, as well to recognize + Joan’s extreme meritorious service, as to thank me for the part I had in + bringing news of the Earl of Stamford’s advance. For ’twas this, they + own’d, had saved them—the King’s message being but an exhortation + and an advertisement upon some lesser matters, the most of which were + already taken out of human hands by the turn of events. + </p> + <p> + But though, as I learn’d, these gentlemen were full of compliments and + professions of esteem, I neither saw nor heard them, being by this time + delirious of a high fever that followed my wound. And not till three good + weeks after, was I recover’d enough to leave my bed, nor, for many more, + did my full strength return to me. No mother could have made a tenderer + nurse than was Joan throughout this time. ’Tis to her I owe it that I am + alive to write these words: and if the tears scald my eyes as I do so, you + will pardon them, I promise, before the end of my tail is reach’d. + </p> + <p> + In the first days of my recovery, news came to us (I forget how) that a + solemn sacrament had been taken between the parties in Devon and Cornwall, + and the country was at peace. Little I cared, at the time: but was content—now + spring was come—to loiter about the tors, and while watching Joan at + her work, to think upon Delia. For, albeit I had little hope to see her + again, my late pretty comrade held my thoughts the day long. I shared them + with nobody: for tho’ ’tis probable I had let some words fall in my + delirium, Joan never hinted at this, and I never found out. + </p> + <p> + To Joan’s company I was left: for her father, after saving my life that + afternoon, took no further notice of me by word or deed; and the cat, Jan + Tergagle (nam’d after a spirit that was said to haunt the moors + hereabouts), was as indifferent. So with Joan I passed the days idly, + tending the sheep, or waiting on her as she ploughed, or lying full length + on the hillside and talking with her of war and battles. ’Twas the one + topic on which she was curious (scoffing at me when I offered to teach her + to read print), and for hours she would listen to stories of Alexander and + Hannibal, Caesar and Joan of Arc, and other great commanders whose history + I remember’d. + </p> + <p> + One evening—’twas early in May—we had climb’d to the top of + the grey tor above Temple, whence we could spy the white sails of the two + Channels moving, and, stretch’d upon the short turf there, I was telling + my usual tale. Joan lay beside me, her chin propp’d on one earth-stain’d + hand, her great solemn eyes wide open as she listened. Till that moment I + had regarded her rather as a man comrade than a girl, but now some + feminine trick of gesture awoke me perhaps, for my fancy began to contrast + her with Delia, and I broke off my story and sigh’d. + </p> + <p> + “Art longing to be hence?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + I felt ashamed to be thus caught, and was silent. She look’d at me and + went on— + </p> + <p> + “Speak out, lad.” + </p> + <p> + “Loth would I be to leave you, Joan.” + </p> + <p> + “And why?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, we are good friends, I hope: and I am grateful.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, aye—wish thee’d learn to speak the truth, Jack. Art longing to + be hence, and shalt—soon.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Joan, you would not have me dwell here always?” + </p> + <p> + She made no answer for a while, and then with a change of tone— + </p> + <p> + “Shalt ride wi’ me to Bodmin Fair to-morrow for a treat, an’ see the Great + Turk and the Fat ’Ooman and hocus-pocus. So tell me more ’bout Joan the + Frenchwoman.” + </p> + <p> + On the morrow, about nine in the morning, we set off—Joan on the + strawberry, balanced easily on an old sack, which was all her saddle; and + I on Molly, that now was sound again and chafing to be so idle. As we set + out, Joan’s father for the first time took some notice of me, standing at + the door to see us off and shouting after us to bring home some account of + the wrestling. Looking back at a quarter mile’s distance I saw him still + fram’d in the doorway, with the cat perch’d on his shoulder. + </p> + <p> + Bodmin town is naught but a narrow street, near on a mile long, and + widening toward the western end. It lies mainly along the south side of a + steep vale, and this May morning as Joan and I left the moors and rode + down to it from northward, already we could hear trumpets blowing, the big + drum sounding, and all the bawling voices and hubbub of the fair. + Descending, we found the long street lin’d with booths and shows, and nigh + blocked with the crowd: for the revel began early and was now in full + swing. And the crew of gipsies, whifflers, mountebanks, fortune tellers, + cut-purses and quacks, mix’d up with honest country faces, beat even the + rabble I had seen at Wantage. + </p> + <p> + Now my own first business was with a tailor: for the clothes I wore when I + rode into Temple, four months back, had been so sadly messed with blood, + and afterward cut, to free them from my wound, that now all the tunic I + wore was of sackcloth, contrived and stitch’d together by Joan. So I made + at once for a decent shop, where luckily I found a suit to fit me, one + taken (the tailor said) off a very promising young gentleman that had the + misfortune to be kill’d on Braddock Down. Arrayed in this, I felt myself + again, and offered to take Joan to see the Fat Woman. + </p> + <p> + We saw her, and the Aethiop, and the Rhinoceros (which put me in mind of + poor Anthony Killigrew), and the Pig-fac’d Baby, and the Cudgel play; and + presently halted before a Cheap Jack, that was crying his wares in a + prodigious loud voice, near the town wall. + </p> + <p> + ’Twas a meagre, sharp-visag’d fellow with a grey chin beard like a billy + goat’s; and (as fortune would have it) spying our approach, he picked out + a mirror from his stock and holding it aloft, addressed us straight— + </p> + <p> + “What have we here,” cries he, “but a pair o’ lovers coming? and what i’ + my hand but a lover’s hourglass? Sure the stars of heav’n must have a hand + in this conjuncture—and only thirteen pence, my pretty fellow, for a + glass that will tell the weather i’ your sweetheart’s face, and help make + it fine.” + </p> + <p> + There were many country fellows with their maids in the crowd, that turned + their heads at this address; and as usual the women began. + </p> + <p> + “Tis Joan o’ the Tor!” + </p> + <p> + “Joan’s picked up wi’ a sweetheart—tee-hee!—an’ us reckoned + her’d forsworn mankind!” + </p> + <p> + “Who is he?” + </p> + <p> + “Some furriner, sure: that likes garlic.” + </p> + <p> + “He’s bought her no ribbons yet.” + </p> + <p> + “How should he, poor lad; that can find no garments upon her to fasten ’em + to?” + </p> + <p> + And so on, with a deal of spiteful laughter. Some of these sayings were + half truth, no doubt: but the truthfullest word may be infelix. So noting + a dark flush on Joan’s cheek, I thought to end the scene by taking the + Cheap Jack’s mirror on the spot, to stop his tongue, and then drawing her + away. + </p> + <p> + But in this I was a moment too late; for just as I reached up my hand with + the thirteen pence, and the grinning fellow on the platform bent forward + with his mirror, I heard a coarser jest, a rush in the crowd, and two + heads go <i>crack!</i> together like eggs. ’Twas two of Joan’s tormentors + she had taken by the hair and served so: and dropping them the next + instant had caught the Cheap Jack’s beard, as you might a bell rope, and + wrench’d him head-foremost off his stand, my thirteen pence flying far and + wide. Plump he fell into the crowd, that scatter’d on all hands as Joan + pummelled him: and <i>whack, whack!</i> fell the blows on the poor idiot’s + face, who scream’d for mercy, as though Judgment Day were come. + </p> + <p> + No one, for the minute, dared to step between them: and presently Joan + looking up, with arm raised for another buffet, spied a poor Astrologer + close by, in a red and yellow gown, that had been reading fortunes in a + tub of black water beside him, but was now broken off, dismayed at the + hubbub. To this tub she dragged the Cheap Jack and sent him into it with a + round souse. The black water splashed right and left over the crowd. Then, + her wrath sated, Joan faced the rest, with hands on hips, and waited for + them to come on. + </p> + <p> + Not a word had she spoken, from first to last: but stood now with hot + cheeks and bosom heaving. Then, finding none to take up her challenge, she + strode out through the folk, and I after her, with the mirror in my hand; + while the Cheap Jack picked himself out of the tub, whining, and the + Astrologer wip’d his long white beard and soil’d robe. + </p> + <p> + Outside the throng was a carriage, stopp’d for a minute by this tumult, + and a servant at the horses’ heads. By the look of it, ’twas the coach of + some person of quality; and glancing at it I saw inside an old gentleman + with a grave venerable face, seated. For the moment it flash’d on me I had + seen him before, somewhere: and cudgell’d my wits to think where it had + been. But a second and longer gaze assured me I was mistaken, and I went + on down the street after Joan. + </p> + <p> + She was walking fast and angry; nor when I caught her up and tried to + soothe, would she answer me but in the shortest words. Woman’s justice, as + I had just learn’d, has this small defect—it goes straight enough, + but mainly for the wrong object. Which now I proved in my own case. + </p> + <p> + “Where are you going, Joan?” + </p> + <p> + “To ‘Fifteen Balls’’ stable, for my horse.” + </p> + <p> + “Art not leaving the fair yet, surely!” + </p> + <p> + “That I be, tho’. Have had fairing enow—wi’ a man!” + </p> + <p> + Nor for a great part of the way home would she speak to me. But meeting, + by Pound Scawens (a hamlet close to the road), with some friends going to + the fair, she stopp’d for a while to chat with them, whilst I rode + forward: and when she overtook me, her brow was clear again. + </p> + <p> + “Am a hot headed fool, Jack, and have spoil’d thy day for thee.” + </p> + <p> + “Nay, that you have not,” said I, heartily glad to see her humble, for the + first time in our acquaintance: “but if you have forgiven me that which I + could not help, you shall take this that I bought for you, in proof.” + </p> + <p> + And pulling out the mirror, I lean’d over and handed it to her. + </p> + <p> + “What i’ the world be this?” she ask’d, taking and looking at it + doubtfully. + </p> + <p> + “Why, a mirror.” + </p> + <p> + “What’s that?” + </p> + <p> + “A glass to see your face in,” I explained. + </p> + <p> + “Be this my face?” She rode forward, holding up the glass in front of her. + “Why, what a handsome looking gal I be, to be sure! Jack, art certain ’tis + my very own face?” + </p> + <p> + “To be sure,” said I amazed. + </p> + <p> + “Well!” There was silence for a full minute, save for our horses’ tread on + the high road. And then— + </p> + <p> + “Jack, I be powerful dirty!” + </p> + <p> + This was true enough, and it made me laugh. She looked up solemnly at my + mirth (having no sense of a joke, then or ever) and bent forward to the + glass again. + </p> + <p> + “By the way,” said I, “did you mark a carriage just outside the crowd, by + the Cheap Jack’s booth?—with a white-hair’d gentleman seated + inside?” + </p> + <p> + Joan nodded. “Master Hannibal Tingcomb: steward o’ Gleys.” + </p> + <p> + “What!” + </p> + <p> + I jumped in my saddle, and with a pull at the bridle brought Molly to a + standstill. + </p> + <p> + “Of Gleys?” I cried. “Steward of Sir Deakin Killigrew that was?” + </p> + <p> + “Right, lad, except the last word. ‘That <i>is</i>,’ should’st rather + say.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you are wrong, Joan: for he’s dead and buried, these five months. + Where is this house of Gleys? for to-morrow I must ride there.” + </p> + <p> + “’Tis easy found, then: for it stands on the south coast yonder, and no + house near it: five mile from anywhere, and sixteen from Temple, due + south. Shall want thee afore thou startest, Jack. Dear, now! who’d ha’ + thought I was so dirty?” + </p> + <p> + The cottage door stood open as we rode into the yard, and from it a faint + smoke came curling, with a smell of peat. Within I found the smould’ring + turves scattered about as on the day of my first arrival, and among them + Joan’s father stretch’d, flat on his face: only this time the cat was + curl’d up quietly, and lying between the old man’s shoulder blades. + </p> + <p> + “Drunk again,” said Joan shortly. + </p> + <p> + But looking more narrowly, I marked a purplish stain on the ground by the + old man’s mouth, and turned him softly over. + </p> + <p> + “Joan,” said I, “he’s not drunk—he’s dead!” + </p> + <p> + She stood above us and looked down, first at the corpse, then at me, + without speaking for a time: at last— + </p> + <p> + “Then I reckon he may so well be buried.” + </p> + <p> + “Girl,” I call’d out, being shocked at this callousness, “’tis your father—and + he is dead!” + </p> + <p> + “Why that’s so, lad. An he were alive, shouldn’t trouble thee to bury ’n.” + </p> + <p> + And so, before night, we carried him up to the bleak tor side, and dug his + grave there; the black cat following us to look. Five feet deep we laid + him, having dug down to solid rock; and having covered him over, went + silently back to the hovel. Joan had not shed a single tear. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0014"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class='chapter'><h2> + CHAPTER XIV. — I DO NO GOOD IN THE HOUSE OF GLEYS. + </h2></div> + <p> + Very early next morning I awoke, and hearing no sound in the loft above + (whither, since my coming, Joan had carried her bed), concluded her to be + still asleep. But in this I was mistaken: for going to the well at the + back to wash, I found her there, studying her face in the mirror. + </p> + <p> + “Luckily met, Jack,” she said, when I was cleansed and freshly glowing: + “Now fill another bucket and sarve me the same.” + </p> + <p> + “Cannot you wash yourself?” I ask’d, as I did so. + </p> + <p> + “Lost the knack, I reckon. Stand thee so, an’ slush the water over me.” + </p> + <p> + “But your clothes!” I cried out, “they’ll be soaking wet!” + </p> + <p> + “Clothes won’t be worse for a wash, neither. So slush away.” + </p> + <p> + Therefore, standing at three paces’ distance, I sent a bucketful over her, + and then another and another. Six times I filled and emptied the bucket in + all: and at the end she was satisfied, and went, dripping, back to the + kitchen to get me my breakfast. + </p> + <p> + “Art early abroad,” she said, as we sat together over the meal. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, for I must ride to Gleys this morning.” + </p> + <p> + “Shan’t be sorry to miss thee for a while. Makes me feel so shy—this + cleanliness.” So, promising to be back by nightfall, I went presently to + saddle Molly: and following Joan’s directions and her warnings against + quags and pitfalls, was soon riding south across the moor and well on my + road to the House of Gleys. + </p> + <p> + My way leading me by Braddock Down, I turned aside for a while to examine + the ground of the late fight (tho’ by now little was to be seen but a + piece of earthwork left unfinish’d by the rebels, and the fresh mounds + where the dead were laid); and so ’twas high noon—and a dull, + cheerless day—before the hills broke and let me have sight of the + sea. Nor, till the noise of the surf was in my ears, did I mark the + chimneys and naked grey walls of the house I was bound for. + </p> + <p> + ’Twas a gloomy, savage pile of granite, perch’d at the extremity of a + narrow neck of land, where every wind might sweep it, and the waves beat + on three sides the cliff below. The tide was now at the full, almost, and + the spray flying in my face, as we crossed the head of a small beach, + forded a stream, and scrambled up the rough road to the entrance gate. + </p> + <p> + A thin line of smoke blown level from one chimney was all the sign of life + in the building: for the narrow lights of the upper story were mostly + shuttered, and the lower floor was hid from me by a high wall enclosing a + courtlage in front. One stunted ash, with boughs tortured and bent toward + the mainland, stood by the gate, which was lock’d. A smaller door, also + lock’d, was let into the gate, and in this again a shuttered iron grating. + Hard by, dangled a rusty bell-pull, at which I tugg’d sturdily. + </p> + <p> + On this, a crack’d bell sounded, far in the house, and scared a flock of + starlings out of a disused chimney. Their cries died away presently, and + left no sound but that of the gulls wailing about the cliff at my feet. + This was all the answer I won. + </p> + <p> + I rang again, and a third time: and now at last came the sound of + footsteps shuffling across the court within. The shutter of the grating + was slipp’d back, and a voice, crack’d as the bell, asked my business. + </p> + <p> + “To see Master Hannibal Tingcomb,” answered I. “Thy name?” + </p> + <p> + “He shall hear it in time. Say that I come on business concerning the + estate.” + </p> + <p> + The voice mutter’d something, and the footsteps went back. I had been + kicking my heels there for twenty minutes or more when they returned, and + the voice repeated the question— + </p> + <p> + “Thy name?” + </p> + <p> + Being by this time angered, I did a foolish thing; which was, to clap the + muzzle of my pistol against the grating, close to the fellow’s nose. + Singular to say, the trick serv’d me. A bolt was slipp’d hastily back and + the wicket door opened stealthily. + </p> + <p> + “I want,” said I, “room for my horse to pass.” + </p> + <p> + Thereupon more grumbling follow’d, and a prodigious creaking of bolts and + chains; after which the big gate swung stiffly back. + </p> + <p> + “Sure, you must be worth a deal,” I said, “that shut yourselves in so + careful.” + </p> + <p> + Before me stood a strange fellow—extraordinary old and bent, with a + wizen’d face, one eye only, and a chin that almost touched his nose. He + wore a dirty suit of livery, that once had been canary-yellow; and shook + with the palsy. + </p> + <p> + “Master Tingcomb will see the young man,” he squeak’d, nodding his head; + “but is a-reading just now in his Bible.” + </p> + <p> + “A pretty habit,” answered I, leading in Molly—“if unseasonable. But + why not have said so?” + </p> + <p> + He seem’d to consider this for a while, and then said abruptly— + </p> + <p> + “Have some pasty and some good cider?” + </p> + <p> + “Why yes,” I said, “with all my heart, when I have stabled the sorrel + here.” + </p> + <p> + He led the way across the court, well paved but chok’d with weeds, toward + the stable. I found it a spacious building, and counted sixteen stalls + there; but all were empty save two, where stood the horses I had seen in + Bodmin the day before. Having stabled Molly, I left the place (which was + thick with cobwebs) and follow’d the old servant into the house. + </p> + <p> + He took me into a great stone kitchen, and brought out the pasty and + cider, but poured out half a glass only. + </p> + <p> + “Have a care, young man: ’tis a luscious, thick, seductive drink,” and he + chuckled. + </p> + <p> + “’Twould turn the edge of a knife,” said I, tasting it and looking at him: + but his one blear’d eye was inscrutable. The pasty also was mouldy, and I + soon laid it down. + </p> + <p> + “Hast a proud stomach that cometh of faring sumptuously: the beef therein + is our own killing,” said he. “Young sir, art a man of blood, I greatly + fear, by thy long sword and handiness with the firearms.” + </p> + <p> + “Shall be presently,” answered I, “if you lead me not to Master Tingcomb.” + </p> + <p> + He scrambled up briskly and totter’d out of the kitchen into a stone + corridor, I after him. Along this he hurried, muttering all the way, and + halted before a door at the end. Without knocking he pushed it open, and + motioning me to enter, hasten’d back as he had come. + </p> + <p> + “Come in,” said a voice that seem’d familiar to me. + </p> + <p> + Though, as you know, ’twas still high day, in the room where now I found + myself was every appearance of night: the shutters being closed, and six + lighted candles standing on the table. Behind them sat the venerable + gentleman whom I had seen in the coach, now wearing a plain suit of black, + and reading in a great book that lay open on the table. I guess’d it to be + the Bible; but noted that the candles had shades about them, so disposed + as to throw the light, not on the page, but on the doorway where I stood. + </p> + <p> + Yet the old gentleman, having bid me enter, went on reading for a while as + though wholly unaware of me: which I found somewhat nettling, so began— + </p> + <p> + “I speak, I believe, to Master Hannibal Tingcomb, steward to Sir Deakin + Killigrew.” + </p> + <p> + He went on, as if ending his sentence aloud: “... And my darling from the + power of the dog.” Here he paused with finger on the place and looked up. + “Yes, young sir, that is my name—steward to the late Sir Deakin + Killigrew.” + </p> + <p> + “The late?” cried I: “Then you know—” + </p> + <p> + “Surely I know that Sir Deakin is dead: else should I be but an unworthy + steward.” He open’d his grave eyes as if in wonder. + </p> + <p> + “And his son, also?” + </p> + <p> + “Also his son Anthony, a headstrong boy, I fear me, a consorter with vile + characters. Alas? that I should say it.” + </p> + <p> + “And his daughter, Mistress Delia?” + </p> + <p> + “Alas!” and he fetched a deep sigh. + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean, sir, that she too is dead!” + </p> + <p> + “Why, to be sure-but let us talk on less painful matters.” + </p> + <p> + “In one moment, sir: but first tell me—where did she die, and when?” + </p> + <p> + For my heart stood still, and I was fain to clutch the table between us to + keep me from falling. I think this did not escape him, for he gave me a + sharp look, and then spoke very quiet and hush’d, + </p> + <p> + “She was cruelly kill’d by highwaymen, at the ‘Three Cups’ inn, some miles + out of Hungerford. The date given me is the 3d of December last.” + </p> + <p> + With this a great rush of joy came over me, and I blurted out, delighted— + </p> + <p> + “There, sir, you are wrong! Her father was kill’d on the night of which + you speak—cruelly enough, as you say: but Mistress Delia Killigrew + escaped, and after the most incredible adventures—” + </p> + <p> + I was expecting him to start up with joy at my announcement; but instead + of this, he gaz’d at me very sorrowfully and shook his head; which brought + me to a stand. + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” I said, changing my tone, “I speak but what I know: for ’twas I had + the happy fortune to help her to escape, and, under God’s hand, to bring + her safe to Cornwall.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, where is she now?” + </p> + <p> + Now this was just what I could not tell. So, standing before him, I gave + him my name and a history of all my adventures in my dear comrade’s + company, from the hour when I saw her first in the inn at Hungerford. + Still keeping his finger on the page, he heard me to the end attentively, + but with a curling of the lips toward the close, such as I did not like. + And when I had done, to my amaze he spoke out sharply, and as if to a + whipp’d schoolboy. + </p> + <p> + “’Tis a cock-and-bull story, sir, of which I could hope to make you + ashamed. Six weeks in your company? and in boy’s habit? Surely ’twas + enough the pure unhappy maid should be dead—without such vile + slander on her fame, and from you, that were known, sir, to have been at + that inn, and on that night, with her murderers. Boy, I have evidence + that, taken with your confession, would weave you a halter; and am a + Justice of the Peace. Be thankful, then, that I am a merciful man; yet be + abash’d.” + </p> + <p> + Abash’d, indeed, I was; or at least taken aback, to see his holy + indignation and the flush on his waxen cheek. Like a fool I stood + staggered, and wondered dimly where I had heard that thin voice before. In + the confusion of my senses I heard it say solemnly— + </p> + <p> + “The sins of her fathers have overtaken her, as the Book of Exodus + proclaim’d: therefore is her inheritance wasted, and given to the satyr + and the wild ass.” + </p> + <p> + [Illustration: “What did you in Oxford last November?”—Page 219.] + </p> + <p> + “And which of the twain be you, sir?” + </p> + <p> + I cannot tell what forced this violent rudeness from me, for he seem’d an + honest, good man; but my heart was boiling that any should put so ill a + construction on my Delia. As for him, he had risen, and was moving with + dignity to the door—to show me out, as I guess. When suddenly I, + that had been staring stupidly, leap’d upon him and hurled him back into + his chair. + </p> + <p> + For I had marked his left foot trailing, and, by the token, knew him for + the white hair’d man of the bowling-green. + </p> + <p> + “Master Hannibal Tingcomb,” I spoke in his ear, “—dog and murderer! + What did you in Oxford last November? And how of Captain Lucius Higgs, + otherwise Captain Luke Settle, otherwise Mr. X.? Speak, before I serve you + as the dog was served that night!” + </p> + <p> + I dream yet, in my sick nights, of the change that came over the vile, + hypocritical knave at these words of mine. To see his pale venerable face + turn green and livid, his eyeball start, his hands clutch at air—it + frighten’d me. + </p> + <p> + “Brandy!” he gasped. “Brandy! there—quick—for God’s sake!” + </p> + <p> + And the next moment he had slipp’d from my grasp, and was wallowing in a + fit on the floor. I ran to the cupboard at which he had pointed, and + finding there a bottle of strong waters, forced some drops between his + teeth; and hard work it was, he gnashing at me all the time and foaming at + the mouth. + </p> + <p> + Presently he ceased to writhe and bite: and lifting, I set him in his + chair, where he lay, a mere limp bundle, staring and blinking. So I sat + down facing him, and waited his recovery. + </p> + <p> + “Dear young sir,” he began at length feebly, his fingers searching the + Bible before him, from force of habit. “Kind young sir—I am an old, + dying man, and my sins have found me out. Only yesterday, the physician at + Bodmin told me that my days are numbered. This is the second attack, and + the third will kill me.” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” said I. “If—if Mistress Delia be alive (as indeed I + did not think), I will make restitution—I will confess—only + tell me what to do, that I may die in peace.” + </p> + <p> + Indeed, he look’d pitiable, sitting there and stammering: but I harden’d + my heart to say— + </p> + <p> + “I must have a confession, then, written before I leave the room.” + </p> + <p> + “But, dear young friend, you will not use it if I give up all? You will + not seek my life? that already is worthless, as you see.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, ’tis what you deserve. But Delia shall say when I find her—as + I shall go straight to seek her. If she be lost, I shall use it—never + fear: if she be found, it shall be hers to say what mercy she can discover + in her heart; but I promise you I shall advise none.” + </p> + <p> + The tears by this were coursing down his shrunken cheeks, but I observ’d + him watch me narrowly, as though to find out how much I knew. So I pull’d + out my pistol, and setting pen and paper before him, obtained at the end + of an hour a very pretty confession of his sins, which lies among my + papers to this day. When ’twas written and sign’d, in a weak, rambling + hand, I read it through, folded it, placed it inside my coat, and prepared + to take my leave. + </p> + <p> + But he called out an order to the old servant to saddle my mare, and stood + softly praying and beseeching me in the courtyard till the last moment. + Nor when I was mounted would anything serve but he must follow at my + stirrup to the gate. But when I had briefly taken leave, and the heavy + doors had creaked behind me, I heard a voice calling after me down the + road— + </p> + <p> + “Dear young sir! Dear friend!—I had forgotten somewhat.” + </p> + <p> + Returning, I found the gate fastened, and the iron shutter slipp’d back. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” I asked, leaning toward it. + </p> + <p> + “Dear young friend, I pity thee, for thy paper is worthless. To-day, by my + advices, the army of our most Christian Parliament, more than twenty + thousand strong, under the Earl of Stamford, have overtaken thy friends, + the malignant gentry, near Stratton Heath, in the northeast. They are more + than two to one. By this hour to-morrow, the Papists all will be running + like conies to their burrows, and little chance wilt thou have to seek + Delia Killigrew, much less to find her. And remember, I know enough of thy + late services to hang thee: mercy then will lie in my friends’ hands; but + be sure I shall advise none.” + </p> + <p> + And with a mocking laugh he clapp’d—to the grating in my face. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0015"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class='chapter'><h2> + CHAPTER XV. — I LEAVE JOAN AND RIDE TO THE WARS. + </h2></div> + <p> + You may guess how I felt at being thus properly fooled. And the worst was + I could see no way to mend it; for against the barricade between us I + might have beat myself for hours, yet only hurt my fists: and the wall was + so smooth and high, that even by standing on Molly’s back I could not—by + a foot or more—reach the top to pull myself over. + </p> + <p> + There was nothing for it but to turn homewards, down the hill: which I + did, chewing the cud of my folly, and finding it bitter as gall. What + consoled me somewhat was the reflection that his threats were, likely + enough, mere vaporing: for of any breach of the late compact between the + parties I had heard nothing, and never seem’d a country more wholly given + up to peace than that through which I had ridden in the morning. So + recalling Master Tingcomb’s late face of terror, and the confession in my + pocket, I felt more cheerful. “England has grown a strange place, if I + cannot get justice on this villain,” thought I; and rode forward, planning + a return-match and a sweet revenge. + </p> + <p> + There is no more soothing game, I believe, in the world than this of + holding imaginary triumphant discourse with your enemy. Yet (oddly) it + brought me but cold comfort on this occasion, my wound being too recent + and galling. The sky, so long clouded, was bright’ning now, and growing + serener every minute: the hills were thick with fox-gloves, the vales + white with hawthorn, smelling very sweetly in the cool of the day: but I, + with the bridle flung on Molly’s neck, pass’d them by, thinking only of my + discomfiture, and barely rousing myself to give back a “Good-day” to those + that met me on the road. Nor, till we were on the downs and Joan’s cottage + came in sight, did I shake the brooding off. + </p> + <p> + Joan was not in the kitchen when I arrived, nor about the buildings; nor + yet could I spy her anywhere moving on the hills. So, after calling to her + once or twice, I stabled the mare, and set off up the tor side to seek + her. + </p> + <p> + Now I must tell you that since the day of my coming I had made many + attempts to find the place where Joan had then hidden me, and always + fruitlessly: though I knew well whereabouts it must be. Indeed, I had + thought at first I had only to walk straight to the hole: yet found after + repeated trials but solid earth and boulders for my pains. + </p> + <p> + But to-day as I climb’d past the spot, something very bright flashed in my + eyes and dazzled me, and rubbing them and looking, I saw a great hole in + the hill—facing to the sou’-west—in the very place I had + search’d for it; and out of this a beam of light glancing. + </p> + <p> + Creeping near on tiptoe, I found one huge block of granite that before had + seemed bedded, among a dozen fellow-boulders, against the turf—the + base resting on another well-nigh as big—was now rolled back; having + been fixed to work smoothly on a pivot, yet so like nature that no eye, + but by chance, could detect it. Now, who in the beginning designed this + hiding place I leave you to consider; and whether it was the Jews or + Phoenicians—nations, I am told, that once work’d the hills around + for tin. But inside ’twas curiously paved and lined with slabs of granite, + the specks of ore in which, I noted, were the points of light that had + once puzzled me. And here was Joan’s bower, and Joan herself inside it. + </p> + <p> + She was sitting with her back to me, in her left hand holding up the + mirror, that caught the rays of the now sinking sun (and thus had dazzled + me), while with her right she tried to twist into some form of knot her + tresses—black, and coarse as a horse’s mane—that already she + had roughly braided. A pail of water stood beside her; and around lay + scatter’d a score or more of long thorns, cut to the shape of hair pins. + </p> + <p> + ’Tis probable that after a minute’s watching I let some laughter escape + me. At any rate Joan turned, spied me, and scrambled up, with an angry red + on her cheek. Then I saw that her bodice was neater lac’d than usual, and + a bow of yellow ribbon (fish’d up heaven knows whence) stuck in the bosom. + But the strangest thing was to note the effect of this new tidiness upon + her: for she took a step forward as if to cuff me by the ear (as, a day + agone, she would have done), and then stopp’d, very shy and hesitating. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Joan,” said I, “don’t be anger’d. It suits you choicely—it + does indeed.” + </p> + <p> + “Art scoffing, I doubt.” She stood looking heavily and askance at me. + </p> + <p> + “On my faith, no: and what a rare tiring-bower the Jew’s Kitchen makes! + Come, Joan, be debonair and talk to me, for I am out of luck to-day.” + </p> + <p> + “Forgit it, then” (and she pointed to the sun), “whiles yet some o’t is + left. Tell me a tale, an thou’rt minded.” + </p> + <p> + “Of what?” + </p> + <p> + “O’ the bloodiest battle thou’st ever heard tell on.” + </p> + <p> + So, sitting by the mouth of the Jew’s Kitchen, I told her as much as I + could remember out of Homer’s Iliad, wondering the while what my tutor, + Mr. Josias How, of Trinity College, would think to hear me so use his + teaching. By-and-bye, as I warm’d to the tale, Joan forgot her new + smartness; and at length, when Hector was running from Achilles round the + walls, clapp’d her hands for excitement, crying, “Church an’ King, lad! + Oh, brave work!” + </p> + <p> + “Why, no,” answered I, “’twas not for that they were fighting;” and + looking at her, broke off with, “Joan, art certainly a handsome girl: give + me a kiss for the mirror.” + </p> + <p> + Instead of flying out, as I look’d for, she fac’d round, and answered me + gravely— + </p> + <p> + “That I will not: not to any but my master.” + </p> + <p> + “And who is that?” + </p> + <p> + “No man yet; nor shall be till one has beat me sore: him will I love, an’ + follow like a dog—if so be he whack me often enow’.” + </p> + <p> + “A strange way to love,” laughed I. She look’d at me straight, + albeit with an odd gloomy light in her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Think so, Jack? then I give thee leave to try.” + </p> + <p> + I think there is always a brutality lurking in a man to leap out unawares. + Yet why do I seek excuses, that have never yet found one? To be plain, I + sprang fiercely up and after Joan, who had already started, and was racing + along the slope. + </p> + <p> + Twice around the tor she led me: and though I strain’d my best, not a yard + could I gain upon her, for her bare feet carried her light and free. + Indeed, I was losing ground, when coming to the Jew’s Kitchen a second + time, she tried to slip inside and shut the stone in my face. + </p> + <p> + Then should I have been prettily bemock’d, had I not, with a great effort, + contrived to thrust my boot against the door just as it was closing. + Wrenching it open, I laid hand on her shoulder; and in a moment she had + gripp’d me, and was wrestling like a wild-cat. + </p> + <p> + Now being Cumberland-bred I knew only the wrestling of my own county, and + nothing of the Cornish style. For in the north they stand well apart, and + try to wear down one another’s strength: whereas the Cornish is a brisker + lighter play—and (as I must confess) prettier to watch. So when Joan + rush’d in and closed with me, I was within an ace of being thrown, pat. + </p> + <p> + But recovering, I got her at arm’s length, and held her so, while my heart + ach’d to see my fingers gripping her shoulders and sinking into the flesh. + I begg’d off; but she only fought and panted, and struggled to lock me by + the ankles again. I could not have dream’d to find such fierce strength in + a girl. Once or twice she nearly overmastered me: but at length my + stubborn play wore her out. Her breath came short and fast, then fainter: + and in the end, still holding her off, I turned her by the shoulders, and + let her drop quietly on the turf. No thought had I any longer of kissing + her; but stood back, heartily sick and ashamed of myself. + </p> + <p> + For awhile she lay, turn’d over on her side, with hands guarding her head, + as if expecting me to strike her. Then gathering herself up, she came and + put her hand in mine, very meekly. + </p> + <p> + “Had lik’d it better had’st thou stamped the life out o’ me, a’most. But + there, lad—am thine forever!” + </p> + <p> + ’Twas like a buffet in the face to me. “What!” I cried. + </p> + <p> + She look’d up in my face—dear Heaven, that I should have to write + it!—with eyes brimful, sick with love; tried to speak, but could + only nod: and broke into a wild fit of tears. + </p> + <p> + I was standing there with her hand in mine, and a burning remorse in my + heart, when I heard the clear notes of a bugle blown, away on the road to + Launceston. + </p> + <p> + Looking that way, I saw a great company of horse coming down over the + crest, the sun shining level on their arms and a green standard that they + bore in their midst. + </p> + <p> + Joan spied them the same instant, and check’d her sobs. Without a word we + flung ourselves down full length on the turf to watch. + </p> + <p> + They were more than a thousand, as I guess’d, and came winding down the + road very orderly, till, being full of them, it seem’d a long serpent + writhing with shiny scales. The tramp of hoofs and jingling of bits were + pretty to hear. + </p> + <p> + “Rebels!” whisper’d I. Joan nodded. + </p> + <p> + There were three regiments in all, whereof the first (and biggest) was of + dragoons. So clear was the air, I could almost read the legend on their + standard, and the calls of their captains were borne up to us extremely + distinct. + </p> + <p> + As they rode leisurely past, I thought of Master Tingcomb’s threat, and + wonder’d what this array could intend. Nor, turning it over, could I find + any explanation: for the Earl of Stamford’s gathering, he had said, was in + the northeast, and I knew such troops as the Cornish generals had to be + quarter’d at Launceston. Yet here, on the near side of Launceston, was a + large body of rebel horse marching quietly to the sou’-west. Where was the + head or tail to it? + </p> + <p> + Turning my head as the last rider disappear’d on the way to Bodmin, I + spied a squat oddly shap’d man striding down the hill very briskly: yet he + look’d about him often and kept to the hollows of the ground; and was + crossing below us, as it appeared, straight for Joan’s cottage. + </p> + <p> + Cried I: “There is but one man in the world with such a gait—and + that’s Billy Pottery!” + </p> + <p> + And jumping to my feet (for he was come directly beneath us) I caught up a + great stone and sent it bowling down the slope. + </p> + <p> + Bounce it went past him, missing his legs by a foot or less. The man + turn’d, and catching sight of me as I stood waving, made his way up the + hill. ’Twas indeed Captain Bilty: and coming up, the honest fellow almost + hugg’d me for joy. + </p> + <p> + “Was seeking thee, Jack,” he bawled: “learn’d from Sir Bevill where belike + I might find thee. Left his lodging at Launceston this mornin’, and + trudged ivery foot o’ the way. A thirsty land, Jack—neither horse’s + meat nor man’s meat therein, nor a chair to sit down on: an’ three women + only have I kiss’d this day!” He broke off and look’d at Joan. “Beggin’ + the lady’s pardon for sea manners and way o’ speech.” + </p> + <p> + “Joan,” said I, “this is Billy Pottery, a good mariner and friend of mine: + and as deaf as a haddock.” + </p> + <p> + Billy made a leg; and as I pointed to the road where the cavalry had just + disappeared, went on with a nod— + </p> + <p> + “That’s so: old Sir G’arge Chudleigh’s troop o’ horse sent off to Bodmin + to seize the High Sheriff and his <i>posse</i> there. Two hour agone I + spied ’em, and ha’ been ever since playin’ spy.” + </p> + <p> + “Then where be the King’s forces?” I made shift to enquire by signs. + </p> + <p> + “March’d out o’ Launceston to-day, lad—an’ but a biscuit a man + between ’em, poor dears—for Stratton Heath, i’ the nor’-east, where + the rebels be encamp’d. Heard by scouts o’ these gentry bein’ sent to + Bodmin, and were minded to fight th’ Earl o’ Stamford whiles his + dragooners was away. An’ here’s the long an’ short o’t: thou’rt wanted, + lad, to bear a hand wi’ us up yonder—an the good lady here can spare + thee.” + </p> + <p> + And here we both look’d at Joan—I shamefacedly enough, and Billy + with a puzzled air, which he tried very delicately to hide. + </p> + <p> + She put her hand in mine. + </p> + <p> + “To fight, lad?” + </p> + <p> + I nodded my head. + </p> + <p> + “Then go,” she said without a shade in her voice; and as I made no answer, + went on—“Shall a woman hinder when there’s fightin’ toward? Only + come back when thy wars be over, for I shall miss thee, Jack.” + </p> + <p> + And dropping my hand she led the way down to the cottage. + </p> + <p> + Now Billy, of course, had not heard a word of this: but perhaps he + gathered some import. Any way, he pull’d up short midway on the slope, + scratched his head, and thunder’d— + </p> + <p> + “What a good lass!” + </p> + <p> + Joan, some paces ahead, turn’d at this and smil’d: whereat, having no idea + he’d spoken above a whisper, Billy blush’d red as any peony. + </p> + <p> + ’Twas but a short half hour when, the mare being saddled and Billy fed, we + took our leave of Joan. Billy walked beside one stirrup, and the girl on + the other side, to see us a few yards on our way. At length she halted— + </p> + <p> + “No leave-takin’s, Jack, but ‘Church and King!’ Only do thy best and not + disgrace me.” + </p> + <p> + And “Church and King!” she call’d thrice after us, standing in the road. + For me, as I rode up out of that valley, the drums seem’d beating and the + bugles calling to a new life ahead. The last light of day was on the tors, + the air blowing fresher as we mounted: and with Molly’s every step the + past five months appear’d to dissolve and fall away from me as a dream. + </p> + <p> + On the crest, I turn’d in the saddle. Joan was yet standing there, a black + speck on the road. She waved her hand once. + </p> + <p> + Billy had turn’d too, and, uncovering, shouted so that the hilltops + echoed. + </p> + <p> + “A good lass—a good lass! But what’s become o’ t’other one?” + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0016"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class='chapter'><h2> + CHAPTER XVI. — THE BATTLE OF STAMFORD HEATH. + </h2></div> + <p> + Night came, and found us but midway between Temple and Launceston: for + tho’ my comrade stepp’d briskly beside me, ’twas useless to put Molly + beyond a walk; and besides, the mare was new from her day’s journey. This + troubled me the less by reason of the moon (now almost at the full), and + the extreme whiteness of the road underfoot, so that there was no fear of + going astray. And Billy engaged that by sunrise we should be in sight of + the King’s troops. + </p> + <p> + “Nay, Jack,” he said, when by signs I offered him to ride and tie: “never + rode o’ horseback but once, and then ’pon Parson Spinks his red mare at + Bideford. Parson i’ those days was courtin’ the Widow Hambly, over to + Torrington: an’ I, that wanted to fare to Barnstaple, spent that mornin’ + an’ better part o’ th’ afternoon, clawin’ off Torrington. And th’ end was + the larboard halyards broke, an’ the mare gybed, an’ to Torrington I went + before the wind, wi’ an unseemly bloody nose. ‘Lud!’ cries the widow, + ‘’tis the wrong man ’pon the right horse!’ ‘Pardon, mistress,’ says I, + ‘the man is well enow, but ’pon the wrong horse, for sure.’” + </p> + <p> + Now and then, as we went, I would dismount and lead Molly by the bridle + for a mile or so: and all the way to Launceston Billy was recounting his + adventures since our parting. It appeared that, after leaving me, they had + come to Plymouth with a fair passage: but before they could unlade, had + advertisement of the Governor’s design to seize all vessels then riding in + the Sound, for purposes of war; and so made a quick escape by night into + Looe Haven, where they had the fortune to part with the best part of their + cargo at a high profit. ’Twas while unlading here that Billy had a mind to + pay a debt he ow’d to a cousin of his at Altarnun, and, leaving Matt + Soames in charge, had tramped northward through Liskeard to Launceston, + where he found the Cornish forces, and was met by the news of the Earl of + Stamford’s advance in the northeast. Further meeting, in Sir Bevill’s + troop, with some north coast men of his acquaintance, he fell to talking, + and so learn’d about me and my ride toward Braddock, which (it seem’d) was + now become common knowledge. This led him to seek Sir Bevill, with the + result that you know: “for,” as he wound up, “’tis a desirable an’ rare + delight to pay a debt an’ see some fun, together.” + </p> + <p> + We had some trouble at Launceston gate, where were a few burghers posted + for sentries, and, as I could see, ready to take fright at their own + shadows. But Billy gave the watchword (“One and All”), and presently they + let us through. As we pass’d along the street we marked a light in every + window almost, tho’ ’twas near midnight; and the people moving about + behind their curtains. There were groups too in the dark doorways, + gather’d there discussing, that eyed us as we went by, and answered + Billy’s <i>Good-night, honest men!</i> very hoarse and doubtfully. + </p> + <p> + But when we were beyond the town, and between hedges again, I think I must + have dozed off in my saddle. For, though this was a road full of sharp + memories, being the last I had traveled with Delia, I have no remembrance + to have felt them; or, indeed, of noting aught but the fresh night air, + and the constellation of the Bear blazing ahead, and Billy’s voice + resonant beside me. + </p> + <p> + And after this I can recall passing the tower of Marham Church, with the + paling sky behind it, and some birds chattering in the carved courses: and + soon (it seem’d) felt Billy’s grip on my knee, and open’d my eyes to see + his finger pointing. + </p> + <p> + We stood on a ridge above a hollow vale into which the sun, though now + bright, did not yet pierce, but passing over to a high, conical hill + beyond, smote level on line after line of white tents—the prettiest + sight! ’Twas the enemy there encamped on the top and some way down the + sides, the smoke of their trampled watch fires still curling among the + gorsebushes. I heard their trumpets calling and drums beating to arms; for + though, glancing back at the sun, I judged it to be hardly past four in + the morning, yet already the slopes were moving like an ant-hill—the + regiments gathering, arms flashing, horsemen galloping to and fro, and the + captains shouting their commands. In the distance this had a sweet and + cheerful sound, no more disquieting than a ploughboy calling to his team. + </p> + <p> + Looking down into the valley at our feet, at first I saw no sign of our + own troops—only the roofs of a little town, with overmuch smoke + spread above it, like a morning mist. But here also I heard the church + bells clashing and a drum beating, and presently spied a gleam of arms + down among the trees, and then a regiment of foot moving westward along + the base of the hill. ’Twas evident the battle was at hand, and we + quicken’d our pace down into the street. + </p> + <p> + It lay on the slope, and midway down we pass’d some watch fires burn’d + out; and then a soldier or two running and fastening their straps; and + last a little child, that seem’d wild with the joy of living amid great + events, but led us pretty straight to the sign of “The Tree,” which indeed + was the only tavern. + </p> + <p> + It stood some way back from the street, with a great elm before the porch: + where by a table sat two men, with tankards beside them, and a small + company of grooms and soldiers standing round. Both men were more than + ordinary tall and soldier like: only the bigger wore a scarlet cloak very + richly lac’d, and was shouting orders to his men; while the other, dress’d + in plain buff suit and jack boots, had a map spread before him, which he + studied very attentively, writing therein with a quill pen. + </p> + <p> + “What a plague have we here?” cries the big man, as we drew up. + </p> + <p> + “Recruits if it please you, sir,” said I, dismounting and pulling off my + hat, tho’ his insolent tone offended me. + </p> + <p> + “S’lid! The boy speaks as if he were a regiment,” growls he, half aloud: + “Can’st fight?” + </p> + <p> + “That, with your leave, sir, is what I am come to try.” + </p> + <p> + “And this rascal?” He turned on Billy. + </p> + <p> + Billy heard not a word, of course, yet answered readily— + </p> + <p> + “Why, since your honor is so pleasantly minded—let it be cider.” + </p> + <p> + Now the first effect of this, deliver’d with all force of lung, was to + make the big man sit bolt upright and staring: recovering speech, however, + he broke into a volley of blasphemous curses. + </p> + <p> + All this while the man in buff had scarce lifted his eyes off the map. But + now he looks up—and I saw at the first glance that the two men hated + each other. + </p> + <p> + “I think,” said he quietly, “my Lord Mohun has forgot to ask the <i>gentleman’s</i> + name.” + </p> + <p> + “My name is Marvel, sir—John Marvel.” I answer’d him with a bow. + </p> + <p> + “Hey!”—and dropping his pen he starts up and grasps my hand—“Then + ’tis you I have never thanked for His Gracious Majesty’s letter.” + </p> + <p> + “The General Hopton?” cried I. “Even so, sir. My lord,” he went + on, still holding my hand and turning to his companion, “let me present to + you the gentleman that in January sav’d your house of Bocconnoc from + burning at the hands of the rebels—whom God confound this day!” He + lifted his hat. + </p> + <p> + “Amen,” said I, as his lordship bowed, exceedingly sulky. But I did not + value his rage, being hot with joy to be so beprais’d by the first captain + (as I yet hold) on the royal side. Who now, not without a sly triumph, + flung the price of Billy’s cider on the table and, folding up his map, + address’d me again— + </p> + <p> + “Master Marvel, the fight to-day will lie but little with the horse—or + so I hope. You will do well, if your wish be to serve us best, to leave + your mare behind. The troop which my Lord Mohun and I command together is + below. But Sir Bevill Grenville, who has seen and is interested in you, + has the first claim: and I would not deny you the delight to fight your + first battle under so good a master. His men are, with Sir John Berkeley’s + troop, a little to the westward: and if you are ready I will go some + distance with you, and put you in the way to find him. My lord, may we + look for you presently?” + </p> + <p> + The Lord Mohun nodded, surly enough: so, Billy’s cider being now drunk and + Molly given over to an ostler, we set out down the hill together, Billy + shouldering a pipe and walking after with the groom that led Sir Ralph’s + horse. Be sure the General’s courtly manner of speech set my blood + tingling. I seem’d to grow a full two inches taller; and when, in the + vale, we parted, he directing me to the left, where through a gap I could + see Sir Bevill’s troop forming at some five hundred paces’ distance, I + felt a very desperate warrior indeed; and set off at a run, with Billy + behind me. + </p> + <p> + ’Twas an open space we had to cross, dotted with gorsebushes; and the + enemy’s regiments, plain to see, drawn up in battalia on the slope above, + which here was gentler than to the south and west. But hardly had we gone + ten yards than I saw a puff of white smoke above, then another, and then + the summit ring’d with flame; and heard the noise of it roaring in the + hills around. At the first sound I pull’d up, and then began running again + at full speed: for I saw our division already in motion, and advancing up + the hill at a quick pace. + </p> + <p> + The curve of the slope hid all but the nearest: but above them I saw a + steep earthwork, and thereon three or four brass pieces of ordnance + glittering whenever the smoke lifted. For here the artillery was plying + the briskest, pouring down volley on volley; and four regiments at least + stood mass’d behind, ready to fall on the Cornish-men; who, answering with + a small discharge of musketry, now ran forward more nimbly. + </p> + <p> + To catch up with them, I must now turn my course obliquely up the hill, + where running was pretty toilsome. We were panting along when suddenly a + shower of sand and earth was dash’d in my face, spattering me all over. + Half-blinded, I look’d and saw a great round shot had ploughed a trench in + the ground at my feet, and lay there buried. + </p> + <p> + At the same moment, Billy, who was running at my shoulder, plumps down on + his knees and begins to whine and moan most pitiably. + </p> + <p> + “Art hurt, dear fellow?” asked I, turning. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Jack, Jack—I have no stomach for this! A cool, wet death at sea + I do not fear; only to have the great hot shot burning in a man’s belly—’tis + terrifying. I <i>hate</i> a swift death! Jack, I be a sinner—I will + confess: I lied to thee yesterday—never kiss’d the three maids I + spoke of—never kiss’d but one i’ my life, an’ her a tap-wench, that + slapp’d my face for ’t, an’ so don’t properly count. I be a very boastful + man!” + </p> + <p> + Now I myself had felt somewhat cold inside when the guns began roaring: + but this set me right in a trice. I whipp’d a pistol out of my sash and + put the cold ring to his ear: and he scrambled up; and was a very lion all + the rest of the day. + </p> + <p> + But now we had again to change our course, for to my dismay I saw a line + of sharpshooters moving down among the gorsebushes, to take the Cornishmen + in flank. And ’twas lucky we had but a little way further to go; for these + skirmishers, thinking perhaps from my dress and our running thus that we + bore some message open’d fire on us: and tho’ they were bad marksmen, + ’twas ugly to see their bullets pattering into the turf, to right and + left. + </p> + <p> + We caught up the very last line of the ascending troop—lean, hungry + looking men, with wan faces, but shouting lustily. I think they were about + three hundred in all. “Come on, lad,” called out a bearded fellow with a + bandage over one eye, making room for me at his side; “there’s work for + plenty more!”—and a minute after, a shot took him in the ribs, and + he scream’d out “Oh, my God!” and flinging up his arms, leap’d a foot in + air and fell on his face. + </p> + <p> + Pressing up, I noted that the first line was now at the foot of the + earthwork; and, in a minute, saw their steel caps and crimson sashes + swarming up the face of it, and their pikes shining. But now came a shock, + and the fellow in front was thrust back into my arms. I reeled down a pace + or two and then, finding foothold, stood pushing. And next, the whole body + came tumbling back on me, and down the hill we went flying, with oaths and + cries. Three of the rebel regiments had been flung on us and by sheer + weight bore us before them. At the same time the sharpshooters pour’d in a + volley: and I began to see how a man may go through a battle, and be beat, + without striking a blow. + </p> + <p> + But in the midst of this scurry I heard the sound of cheering. ’Twas Sir + John Berkeley’s troop (till now posted under cover of the hedges below) + that had come to our support; and the rebels, fearing to advance too far, + must have withdrawn again behind their earthwork, for after a while the + pressure eas’d a bit, and, to my amaze, the troop which but a minute since + was a mere huddled crowd, formed in some order afresh, and once more began + to climb. This time, I had a thick-set pikeman in front of me, with a big + wen at the back of his neck that seem’d to fix all my attention. And up we + went, I counting the beat of my heart that was already going hard and + short with the work; and then, amid the rattle and thunder of their guns, + we stopp’d again. + </p> + <p> + I had taken no notice of it, but in the confusion of the first repulse the + greater part of our men had been thrust past me, so that now I found + myself no further back than the fourth rank, and at the very foot of the + earthwork, up the which our leaders were flung like a wave; and soon I was + scrambling after them, ankle deep in the sandy earth, the man with the wen + just ahead, grinding my instep with his heel and poking his pike staff + between my knees as he slipp’d. + </p> + <p> + And just at the moment when the top of our wave was cleaving a small + breach above us, he fell on the flat of his pike, with his nose buried in + the gravel and his hands clutching. Looking up I saw a tall rebel + straddling above him with musket clubb’d to beat his brains out: whom with + an effort I caught by the boot; and, the bank slipping at that instant, + down we all slid in a heap, a jumble of arms and legs, to the very bottom. + </p> + <p> + Before I had the sand well out of my eyes, my comrade was up and had his + pike loose; and in a twinkling, the rebel was spitted through the middle + and writhing. ’Twas sickening: but before I could pull out my pistol and + end his pain (as I was minded), back came our front rank a-top of us + again, and down they were driven like sheep, my companion catching up the + dead man’s musket and ammunition bag, and I followed down the slope with + three stout rebels at my heels. “What will be the end of <i>this?</i>” + thought I. The end was, that after forty yards or so, finding the + foremost close upon me, I turn’d about and let fly with my pistol at him. + He spun round twice and dropp’d: which I was wondering at (the pistol + being but a poor weapon for aim) when I was caught by the arm and pull’d + behind a clump of bushes handy by. ’Twas the man with the wen, and by his + smoking musket I knew that ’twas he had fired the shot that killed my + pursuer. + </p> + <p> + “Good turn for good turn,” says he: “quick with thy other pistol!” + </p> + <p> + The other two had stopped doubtfully, but at the next discharge of my + pistol they turn’d tail and went up the hill again, and we were left + alone. And suddenly I grew aware that my head was aching fit to split, and + lay down on the turf, very sick and ill. + </p> + <p> + My comrade took no notice of this, but, going for the dead man’s musket, + kept loading and firing, pausing now and then for his artillery to cool, + and whistling a tune that runs in my head to this day. And all the time I + heard shouts and cries and the noise of musketry all around, which made me + judge that the attack was going on in many places at once. When I came to + myself ’twas to hear a bugle below calling again to the charge, and once + more came the two troops ascending. At their head was a slight built man, + bare-headed, with the sun (that was by this, high over the hill) smiting + on his brown curls, and the wind blowing them. He carried a naked sword in + his hand, and waved his men forward as cheerfully as though ’twere a dance + and he leading out his partner. + </p> + <p> + “Who is that yonder?” asked I, sitting up and pointing. + </p> + <p> + “Bless thy innocent heart!” said my comrade, “dostn’t thee know? Tis Sir + Bevill.” + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <p> + ’Twould be tedious to tell the whole of this long fight, which, beginning + soon after sunrise, ended not till four in the afternoon, or thereabouts: + and indeed of the whole my recollection is but of continual advance and + repulse on that same slope. And herein may be seen the wisdom of our + generals, in attacking while the main body of the enemy’s horse was away: + for had the Earl of Stamford possessed a sufficient force of dragoons to + let slip on us at the first discomfiture, there is little doubt he might + have ended the battle there and then. As it was, the horse stood out of + the fray, theirs upon the summit of the hill, ours (under Col. John Digby) + on the other slope, to protect the town and act as reserve. + </p> + <p> + The foot, in four parties, was disposed about the hill on all sides; to + the west—as we know—under Sir John Berkeley and Sir Bevill + Grenville; to the south under General Hopton and Lord Mohun; to the east + under the Colonels Tom Basset and William Godolphin; while the steep side + to the north was stormed by Sir Nicholas Slanning and Colonel Godolphin, + with their companies. And as we had but eight small pieces of cannon and + were in numbers less than one to two, all we had to do was to march up the + hill in face of their fire, catch a knock on the head, may be, grin, and + come on again. + </p> + <p> + But at three o’clock, we, having been for the sixth time beaten back, were + panting under cover of a hedge, and Sir John Berkeley, near by, was + writing on a drumhead some message to the camp, when there comes a young + man on horseback, his face smear’d with dirt and dust, and rides up to him + and Sir Bevill. ’Twas (I have since learn’d) to say that the powder was + all spent but a barrel or two: but this only the captains knew at the + time. + </p> + <p> + “Very well, then,” cries Sir Bevill, leaping up gaily. “Come along, boys—we + must do it this time.” And, the troop forming, once more the trumpets + sounded the charge, and up we went. Away along the slope we heard the + other trumpeters sounding in answer, and I believe ’twas a <i>sursum + corda!</i> to all of us. + </p> + <p> + Billy Pottery was ranged on my right, in the first rank, and next to me, + on the other side, a giant, near seven foot high, who said his name was + Anthony Payne and his business to act as body-servant to Sir Bevill. And + he it was that struck up a mighty curious song in the Cornish tongue, + which the rest took up with a will. Twas incredible how it put fire into + them all: and Sir Bevill toss’d his hat into the air, and after him like + schoolboys we pelted, straight for the masses ahead. + </p> + <p> + For now over the rampart came a company of red musketeers, and two of + russet-clad pikemen, charging down on us. A moment, and we were crushed + back: another, and the chant rose again. We were grappling, hand to hand, + in the midst of their files. + </p> + <p> + But, good lack! What use is swordsmanship in a charge like this? The first + red coat that encounter’d me I had spitted through the lung, and, carried + on by the rush, he twirled me round like a windmill. In an instant I was + pass’d; the giant stepping before me and clearing a space about him, using + his pike as if ’twere a flail. With a wrench I tugg’d my sword out and + followed. I saw Sir Bevill, a little to the left, beaten to his knee, and + carried toward me. Stretching out a hand I pull’d him on his feet again, + catching, as I did so, a crack on the skull that would have ended me, had + not Billy Pottery put up his pike and broke the force of it. Next, I + remember gripping another red coat by the beard and thrusting at him with + shortened blade. Then the giant ahead lifted his pike high, and we fought + to rally round it; and with that I seem’d caught off my feet and swept + forward:—and we were on the crest. + </p> + <p> + Taking breath, I saw the enemy melting off the summit like a man’s breath + off a pane. And Sir Bevill caught my hand and pointed across to where, on + the north side, a white standard embroider’d with gold griffins was + mounting. + </p> + <p> + “’Tis dear Nick Slanning!” he cried; “God be prais’d—the day is ours + for certain!” + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0017"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class='chapter'><h2> + CHAPTER XVII. — I MEET WITH A HAPPY ADVENTURE BY BURNING OF A GREEN + LIGHT. + </h2></div> + <p> + The rest of this signal victory (in which 1,700 prisoners were taken, + besides the Major-General Chudleigh; and all the rebels’ camp, cannon and + victuals) I leave historians to tell. For very soon after the rout was + assured (the plain below full of men screaming and running, and Col. John + Digby’s dragoons after them, chasing, cutting, and killing), a wet muzzle + was thrust into my hand, and turning, I found Molly behind me, with the + groom to whom I had given her in the morning. The rogue had counted on a + crown for his readiness, and swore the mare was ready for anything, he + having mix’d half a pint of strong ale with her mash, not half an hour + before. + </p> + <p> + So I determin’d to see the end of it, and paying the fellow, climb’d into + the saddle. On the summit the Cornish captains were now met, and cordially + embracing. ’Tis very sad in these latter times to call back their shouts + and boyish laughter, so soon to be quench’d on Lansdowne slopes, or by + Bristol graff. Yet, O favor’d ones!—to chase Victory, to grasp her + flutt’ring skirt, and so, with warm, panting cheeks, kissing her, to fall, + escaping evil days! + </p> + <p> + How could they laugh? For me, the late passionate struggle left me shaken + with sobs; and for the starting tears I saw neither moors around, nor sun, + nor twinkling sea. Brushing them away, I was aware of Billy Pottery + striding at my stirrup, and munching at a biscuit he had found in the + rebels’ camp. Said he, “In season, Jack, is in reason. There be times to + sing an’ to dance, to marry and to give in marriage; an’ likewise times to + become as wax: but now, lookin’ about an’ seein’ no haughty slaughterin’ + cannon but has a Cornishman seated ’pon the touch-hole of the same, says I + in my thoughtsome way, ‘Forbear!’” + </p> + <p> + Presently he pulls up before a rebel trooper, that was writhing on the + slope with a shatter’d thigh, yet raised himself on his fists to gaze on + us with wide, painful eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Good sirs,” gasp’d out the rebel, “can you tell me—where be Nat + Shipward?” + </p> + <p> + “Now how should I know?” I answer’d. + </p> + <p> + “’A had nutty-brown curls, an’ wore a red jacket—Oh, as straight a + young man as ever pitched hay! ’a sarved in General Chudleigh’s troop—a + very singular straight young man.” + </p> + <p> + “Death has taken a many such,” said I, and thought on the man I had run + through in our last charge. + </p> + <p> + The fellow groaned. “’A was my son,” he said: and though Billy pull’d out + a biscuit (his pockets bulged with them) and laid it beside him, he turn’d + from it, and sank back on the turf again. + </p> + <p> + We left him, and now, the descent being gentler, broke into a run, in + hopes to catch up with Col. John Digby’s dragoons, that already were far + across the next vale. The slope around us was piled with dead and dying, + whereof four out of every five were rebels; and cruelly they cursed us as + we passed them by. Night was coming on apace; and here already we were in + deep shadow, but could see the yellow sun on the hills beyond. We crossed + a stream at the foot, and were climbing again. Behind us the cheering yet + continued, though fainter: and fainter grew the cries and shouting in + front. Soon we turn’d into a lane over a steep hedge, under the which two + or three stout rebels were cowering. As we came tumbling almost atop of + them, they ran yelling: and we let them go in peace. + </p> + <p> + The lane gradually led us to westward, out of the main line of the rout, + and past a hamlet where every door was shut and all silent. And at last a + slice of the sea fronted us, between two steeply shelving hills. On the + crest of the road, before it plunged down toward the coast, was a wagon + lying against the hedge, with the horses gone: and beside it, stretch’d + across the road, an old woman. Stopping, we found her dead, with a + sword-thrust through the left breast; and inside the wagon a young man + lying, with his jaw bound up,—dead also. And how this sad spectacle + happened here, so far from the battlefield, was more than we could guess. + </p> + <p> + I was moving away, when Billy, that was kneeling in the road, chanced to + cast his eyes up toward the sea, and dropping the dead woman’s hand + scrambled on his feet and stood looking, with a puzzled face. + </p> + <p> + Following his gaze, I saw a small sloop moving under shorten’d canvas, + about two miles from the land. She made a pleasant sight, with the last + rays of sunlight flaming on her sails: but for Billy’s perturbation I + could not account, so turn’d an enquiring glance to him. + </p> + <p> + “Suthin’ i’ the wind out yonder,” was his answer: “What’s a sloop doing on + that ratch so close in by the point? Be dang’d! but there she goes again;”—as + the little vessel swung off a point or two further from the breeze, that + was breathing softly up Channel. “Time to sup, lad, for the both of us,” + he broke off shortly. + </p> + <p> + Indeed, I was faint with hunger by this time, yet had no stomach to eat + thus close to the dead. So turning into a gate on our left hand, we + cross’d two or three fields, and sat down to sup off Billy’s biscuits, the + mare standing quietly beside us, and cropping the short grass. + </p> + <p> + The field where we now found ourselves ran out along the top of a small + promontory, and ended, without fence of any sort, at the cliff’s edge. As + I sat looking southward, I could only observe the sloop by turning my + head: but Billy, who squatted over against me, hardly took his eyes off + her, and between this and his meal was too busy to speak a word. For me, I + had enough to do thinking over the late fight: and being near worn out, + had half a mind to spend the night there on the hard turf: for, though the + sun was now down and the landscape grey, yet the air was exceeding warm: + and albeit, as I have said, there breath’d a light breeze now and then, + ’twas hardly cool enough to dry the sweat off me. So I stretch’d myself + out, and found it very pleasant to lie still; nor, when Billy stood up and + sauntered off toward the far end of the headland, did I stir more than to + turn my head and lazily watch him. + </p> + <p> + He was gone half an hour at the least, and the sky by this time was so + dark, that I had lost sight of him, when, rising on my elbow to look + around, I noted a curious red glow at a point where the turf broke off, + not three hundred yards behind me, and a thin smoke curling up in it, as + it seem’d, from the very face of the cliff below. In a minute or so the + smoke ceased almost; but the shine against the sky continued steady, tho’ + not very strong. “Billy has lit a fire,” I guessed, and was preparing to + go and look, when I spied a black form crawling toward me, and presently + saw ’twas Billy himself. + </p> + <p> + Coming close, he halted, put a finger to his lip and beckoned: then began + to lead the way back as he had come. + </p> + <p> + Thought I, “these are queer doings:” but left Molly to browse, and crept + after him on hands and knees. He turn’d his head once to make sure I was + following, and then scrambled on quicker, but softly, toward the point + where the red glow was shining. + </p> + <p> + Once more he pull’d up—as I judg’d, about twelve paces’ distance + from the edge—and after considering for a second, began to move + again; only now he worked a little to the right. And soon I saw the + intention of this: for just here the cliff’s lip was cleft by a fissure—very + like that in Scawfell which we were used to call the <i>Lord’s Rake</i>, + only narrower—that ran back into the field and shelved out gently at + the top, so that a man might easily scramble some way down it, tho’ how + far I could not then tell. And ’twas from this fissure that the glow came. + </p> + <p> + Along the right lip of this Billy led me, skirting it by a couple of + yards, and wriggling on his belly like a blind worm. Crawling closer now + (for ’twas hard to see him against the black turf), I stopp’d beside him + and strove to quiet the violence of my breathing. Then, after a minute’s + pause, together we pulled ourselves to the edge, and peer’d over. + </p> + <p> + The descent of the gully was broken, some eight feet below us, by a small + ledge, sloping outward about six feet (as I guess), and screen’d by + branches of the wild tamarisk. At the back, in an angle of the solid rock, + was now set a pan pierced with holes, and full of burning charcoal: and + over this a man in the rebels’ uniform was stooping. + </p> + <p> + He had a small paper parcel in his left hand, and was blowing at the + charcoal with all his might. Holding my breath, I heard him clearly, but + could see nothing of his face, for his back was toward us, all sable + against the glow. The charcoal fumes as they rose chok’d me so, that I was + very near a fit of coughing, when Billy laid one hand on my shoulder, and + with the other pointed out to seaward. + </p> + <p> + Looking that way, I saw a small light shining on the sea, pretty close in. + ’Twas a lantern hung out from the sloop, as I concluded on the instant: + and now I began to have an inkling of what was toward. + </p> + <p> + But looking down again at the man with the charcoal pan I saw a black head + of hair lifted, and then a pair of red puff’d cheeks, and a pimpled nose + with a scar across the bridge of it—all shining in the glare of the + pan. + </p> + <p> + “Powers of Heaven!” I gasped; “’tis that bloody villain Luke Settle!” + </p> + <p> + And springing to my feet, I took a jump over the edge and came sprawling + on top of him. The scoundrel was stooping with his nose close to the pan, + and had not time to turn before I lit with a thud on his shoulders, + flattening him on the ledge and nearly sending his face on top of the live + coal. ’Twas so sudden that, before he could so much as think, my fingers + were about his windpipe, and the both of us struggling flat on the brink + of the precipice. For he had a bull’s strength, and heaved and kicked, so + that I fully looked, next moment, to be flying over the edge into the sea: + nor could I loose my grip to get out a pistol, but only held on and worked + my fingers in, and thought how he had strangled the mastiff that night on + the bowling-green, and vowed to serve him the same if only strength held + out. + </p> + <p> + But now, just as he had almost twisted his neck free, I heard a stone or + two break away above us, and down came Billy Pottery flying atop of us, + and pinned us to the ledge. + </p> + <p> + ’Twas short work now. Within a minute, Captain Luke Settle was turned on + his back, his eyes fairly starting with Billy’s clutch on his throat, his + mouth wide open and gasping; till I slipp’d the nozzle of my pistol + between his teeth; and with that he had no more chance, but gave in, and + like a lamb submitted to have his arms truss’d behind him with Billy’s + leathern belt, and his legs with his own. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” said I, standing over him, and putting the pistol against his + temple, “you and I, Master Turncoat Settle, have some accounts that + ’twould be well to square. So first tell me, what do you here, and where + is Mistress Delia Killigrew?” + </p> + <p> + I think that till this moment the bully had no idea his assailants were + more than a chance couple of Cornish troopers. But now seeing the glow of + the burning charcoal on my face, he ripped out a horrid blasphemous curse, + and straightway fell to speaking calmly. + </p> + <p> + “Good sirs, the game is yours, with care. S’lid! but you hold a pretty + hand—if only you know how to play it.” + </p> + <p> + “’Tis you shall help me, Captain: but let us be clear about the stakes. + For you, ’tis life or death: for me, ’tis to regain Mistress Delia, + failing which I shoot you here through the head, and topple you into the + sea. You are the Knave of trumps, sir, and I play that card: as matters + now stand, only the Queen can save you.” + </p> + <p> + “Right: but where be King and Ace?” + </p> + <p> + “The King is the Cornish army, yonder: the Ace is my pistol here, which I + hold.” + </p> + <p> + “And that’s a very pretty comprehension of the game, sir: I play the + Queen.” + </p> + <p> + “Where is she?” + </p> + <p> + For answer, he pointed seaward, where the sloop’s lantern lay like a + floating star on the black waters. + </p> + <p> + “What!” cried I. “Mistress Delia in that sloop! And who is with her, + pray?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Black Dick, to begin with—and Reuben Gedges—and Jeremy + Toy.” + </p> + <p> + “All the Knaves left in the pack—God help her!” I muttered, as I + look’d out toward the light, and my heart beat heavily. “God help her!” I + said again, and turning, spied a grin on the Captain’s face. + </p> + <p> + “Under Providence,” answered he, “your unworthy servant may suffice. But + what is my reward to be?” + </p> + <p> + “Your neck,” said I, “if I can save it when you are led before the Cornish + captains.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s fair enough: so listen. These few months the lady has been shut in + Bristol keep, whither, by the advice of our employer, we conveyed her back + safe and sound. This same employer—” + </p> + <p> + “A dirty rogue, whom you may as well call by his name—Hannibal + Tingcomb.” + </p> + <p> + “Right, young sir: a very dirty rogue, and a niggardly:—I hate a + mean rascal. Well, fearing her second escape from that prison, and being + hand in glove with the Parliament men, he gets her on board a sloop bound + for the Virginias, just at the time when he knows the Earl of Stamford is + to march and crush the Cornishmen. For escort she has the three comrades + of mine that I named: and the captain of the sloop (a fellow that asks no + questions) has orders to cruise along the coast hereabouts till he gets + news of the battle.” + </p> + <p> + “Which you were just now about to give him,” cried I, suddenly + enlighten’d. + </p> + <p> + “Right again. ’Twas a pretty scheme: for—d’ye see?—if all went + well with the Earl of Stamford, the King’s law would be wiped out in + Cornwall, and Master Tingcomb (with his claims and meritorious services) + might snap his thumb thereat. So, in that case, Mistress Delia was to be + brought ashore here and taken to him, to serve as he fancied. But if the + day should go against us—as it has—she was to sail to the + Virginias with the sloop, and there be sold as a slave. Or worse might + happen; but I swear that is the worst was ever told me.” + </p> + <p> + “God knows ’tis vile enough,” said I, scarce able to refrain from blowing + his brains out. “So you were to follow the Earl’s army, and work the + signals. Which are they?” For a quick resolve had come into my head, and I + was casting about to put it into execution. + </p> + <p> + “A green light if we won: if not, a red light, to warn the sloop away.” + </p> + <p> + I picked up the packet that had dropp’d from his hand when first I sprang + upon him. It was burst abroad, and a brown powder trickling from it about + the ledge. + </p> + <p> + “This was the red light—to be sprinkled on the burning charcoal, I + suppose?” + </p> + <p> + The fellow nodded. At the same moment, Billy (who as yet had not spoke a + word, and of course, understood nothing) thrust into my hand another + packet that he had found stuck in a corner against the rock. + </p> + <p> + “Now tell me—in case the rebels won, where was the landing to be + made?” + </p> + <p> + “In the cove below here—where the road leads down.” + </p> + <p> + “Aye, the road where the wagon stood.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Luke Settle blink’d his eyes at this: but nodded after a moment. + </p> + <p> + “And how many would escort her?” + </p> + <p> + He caught my drift and laughed softly— + </p> + <p> + “Be damn’d, sir, but I begin to love you, for you play the game very + proper and soundly. Reuben, Jeremy, and Black Dick alone are in the plot; + so why should more escort her? For the skipper and crew have their own + business to look after.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, Master Settle, tho’ it be a sore trial to you, those three Knaves + you must give me, or I play my Ace,” and I pressed the ring of my pistol + sharply against his ear as a reminder. + </p> + <p> + “With all my heart, young sir, you shall have them,” says he briskly. + </p> + <p> + “And this is ‘honor among thieves,’” thought I: “You would sell your + comrade as you sold your King:” but only said, “If you cry out, or speak + one word to warn them—” + </p> + <p> + Before I could get my sentence out, Billy Pottery broke in with a voice + like a trumpet— + </p> + <p> + “As folks go, Jack, I be a humorous man. But sittin’ here, an’ ponderin’ + this way an’ that, I says, in my deaf an’ afflicted style, ‘Why not shoot + the ugly rogue, if mirth, indeed, be your object?’ For to wait till an + uglier comes to this untravel’d spot is superfluity.” + </p> + <p> + How to explain matters to Billy was more than I could tell: but in a + moment he himself supplied the means. For the rocks here were of some kind + of slate, very hard, but scaly: and finding two pieces, a large and a + small, he handed them to me, bawling that I was to write therewith. So + giving him my pistol, I made shift to scribble a few words. Seeing his + eyes twinkle as he read, I stood up. + </p> + <p> + The charcoal by this time was a glowing mass of red: and threw so clear a + light on us that I feared the crew on board the sloop might see our forms + and suspect their misadventure. But the lantern still hung steadily: so + signing to Billy to drag our prisoner behind a tamarisk bush, I open’d the + second packet, and poured some of the powder into my hand. + </p> + <p> + It was composed of tiny crystals, yellow and flaky: and holding it, for a + moment I was possessed with a horrid fear that this might be the signal to + warn the sloop away. I flung a look at the Captain: who read my thoughts + on the instant. + </p> + <p> + “Never fear, young sir: am no such hero as to sell my life for that + tag-rag. Only make haste, for your deaf friend has a cursed ugly way of + fumbling his pistol.” + </p> + <p> + So taking heart, I tore the packet wide, and shook out the powder on the + coals. + </p> + <p> + Instantly there came a dense choking vapor, and a vivid green flare that + turned the rocks, the sky, and our faces to a ghastly brilliance. For two + minutes, at least, this unnatural light lasted. As soon as it died away + and the fumes clear’d, I look’d seaward. + </p> + <p> + The lantern on the sloop was moving in answer to the signal. Three times + it was lifted and lower’d: and then in the stillness I heard voices + calling, and soon after the regular splash of oars. + </p> + <p> + There was no time to be lost. Pulling the Captain to his feet, we + scrambled up the gully, and out at the top, and across the fields as fast + as our legs would take us. Molly came to my call and trotted beside me—the + Captain following some paces behind, and Billy last, to keep a safe watch + on his movements. + </p> + <p> + At the gate, however, where we turned into the road, I tethered the mare, + lest the sound of her hoofs should betray us: and down toward the sea we + pelted, till almost at the foot of the hill I pull’d up and listen’d, the + others following my example. + </p> + <p> + We could hear the sound of oars plain above the wash of waves on the + beach. I look’d about me. On either side the road was now bank’d by tall + hills, with clusters of bracken and furze bushes lying darkly on their + slopes. Behind one of these clusters I station’d Billy with the Captain’s + long sword, and a pistol that I by signs forbade him to fire unless in + extremity. Then, retiring some forty paces up the road, I hid the Captain + and myself on the other side. + </p> + <p> + Hardly were we thus disposed, before I heard the sound of a boat grounding + on the beach below, and the murmur of voices; and then the noise of feet + trampling the shingle. Upon which I ordered my prisoner to give a hail, + which he did readily. + </p> + <p> + “Ahoy, Dick! Ahoy, Reuben Gedges!” + </p> + <p> + In a moment or two came the answer— + </p> + <p> + “Ahoy, there, Captain—here we be!” + </p> + <p> + “Fetch along the cargo!” shouted Captain Settle, on my prompting. + </p> + <p> + “Where be you?” + </p> + <p> + “Up the road, here—waiting!” + </p> + <p> + “One minute, then—wait one minute, Captain!” + </p> + <p> + I heard the boat push’d off, some <i>Good-nights</i> call’d, and then + (with tender anguish) the voice of my Delia lifted in entreaty. As I + guess’d, she was beseeching the sailors to take her back to the sloop, nor + leave her to these villains. There follow’d an oath or two growl’d out, a + short scrimmage, and at last, above the splash of the retreating boat, + came the tramp of heavy feet on the road below. + </p> + <p> + So fired was I at the sound of Delia’s voice, that ’twas with much ado I + kept quiet behind the bush. Yet I had wit enough left to look to the + priming of my pistol, and also to bid the Captain shout again. As he did + so, a light shone out down the road, and round the corner came a man + bearing a lantern. + </p> + <p> + “Can’t be quicker, Captain,” he called: “the jade struggles so that Dick + and Jeremy ha’ their hands full.” + </p> + <p> + Sure enough, after him there came in view two stooping forms that bore my + dear maid between them—one by the feet, the other by the shoulders. + I ground my teeth to see it, for she writhed sorely. On they came, + however, until not more than ten paces off; and then that traitor, Luke + Settle, rose up behind our bush. + </p> + <p> + “Set her here, boys,” said he, “and tie her pretty ankles.” + </p> + <p> + “Well met, Captain!” said the fellow with the lantern—Reuben Gedges—stepping + forward; “Give us your hand!” + </p> + <p> + He was holding out his own, when I sprang up, set the pistol close to his + chest, and fired. His scream mingled with the roar of it, and dropping the + lantern, he threw up his hands and tumbled in a heap. At the same moment, + out went the light, and the other rascals, dropping Delia, turn’d to run, + crying, “Sold—sold!” + </p> + <p> + But behind them came now a shout from Billy, and a crashing blow that + almost severed Black Dick’s arm at the shoulder: and at the same instant I + was on Master Toy’s collar, and had him down in the dust. Kneeling on his + chest, with my sword point at his throat, I had leisure to glance at + Billy, who in the dark, seem’d to be sitting on the head of his disabled + victim. And then I felt a touch on my shoulder, and a dear face peer’d + into mine. + </p> + <p> + “Is it Jack—my sweet Jack?” + </p> + <p> + “To be sure,” said I: “and if you but reach out your hand, I will kiss it, + for all that I’m busy with this rogue.” + </p> + <p> + “Nay, Jack, I’ll kiss thee on the cheek—so! Dear lad, I am so + frighten’d, and yet could laugh for joy!” + </p> + <p> + But now I caught the sound of galloping on the road above, and shouts, and + then more galloping; and down came a troop of horsemen that were like to + have ridden over us, had I not shouted lustily. + </p> + <p> + “Who, in the fiend’s name is here?” shouted the foremost, pulling in his + horse with a scramble. + </p> + <p> + “Honest men and rebels together,” I answered; “but light the lantern that + you will find handy by, and you shall know one from t’other.” + </p> + <p> + By the time ’twas found and lit, there was a dozen of Col. John Digby’s + dragoons about us: and before the two villains were bound, comes a half + dozen more, leading in Captain Settle, that had taken to his heels at the + first blow and climb’d the hill, all tied as he was about the hands, and + was caught in his endeavor to clamber on Molly’s back. So he and Black + Dick and Jeremy Toy were strapp’d up: but Reuben Gedges we left on the + road for a corpse. Yet he did not die (though shot through the lung), but + recovered—heaven knows how: and I myself had the pleasure to see him + hanged at Tyburn, in the second year of his late Majesty’s most blessed + Restoration, for stopping the Bishop of Salisbury’s coach, in Maidenhead + Thicket, and robbing the Bishop himself, with much added contumely. + </p> + <p> + But as we were ready to start, and I was holding Delia steady on Molly’s + back, up comes Billy and bawls in my ear— + </p> + <p> + “There’s a second horse, if wanted, that I spied tether’d under a hedge + younder”—and he pointed to the field where we had first found + Captain Settle—“in color a sad black, an’ harness’d like as if he + came from a cart.” + </p> + <p> + I look’d at the Captain, who in the light of the lantern blink’d again. + “Thou bloody villain!” muttered I, for now I read the tragedy of the wagon + beside the road, and knew how Master Settle had provided a horse for his + own escape. + </p> + <p> + But hereupon the word was given, and we started up the hill, I walking by + Delia’s stirrup and listening to her talk as if we had never been parted—yet + with a tenderer joy, having by loss of it learn’d to appraise my happiness + aright. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0018"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class='chapter'><h2> + CHAPTER XVIII. — JOAN DOES ME HER LAST SERVICE. + </h2></div> + <p> + We came, a little before midnight, to Sir Bevill’s famous great house of + Stow, near Kilkhampton: that to-night was brightly lit and full of + captains and troopers feasting, as well they needed to, after the great + victory. And here, though loth to do so, I left Delia to the care of Lady + Grace Grenville, Sir Bevill’s fond beautiful wife, and of all gentlewomen + I have ever seen the pink and paragon, as well for her loyal heart as the + graces of her mind: who, before the half of our tale was out, kissed Delia + on both cheeks, and led her away. “To you too, sir, I would counsel bed,” + said she, “after you have eaten and drunk, and especially given God thanks + for this day’s work.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Bevill I did not see, but striding down into the hall, picked my way + among the drinking and drunken; the servants hurrying with dishes of roast + and baked and great tankards of beer; the swords and pikes flung down + under the forms and settles, and sticking out to trip a man up; and at + length found a groom who led me to a loft over one of the barns: and here, + above a mattress of hay, I slept the first time for many months between + fresh linen that smell’d of lavender, and in thinking how pleasant ’twas, + dropped sound asleep. + </p> + <p> + Sure there is no better, sweeter couch than this of linen spread over hay. + Early in the morning, I woke with wits clear as water, and not an ache or + ounce of weariness in my bones: and after washing at the pump below, went + in search of breakfast and Sir Bevill. The one I found, ready laid, in the + hall; the other seated in his writing-room, studying in a map; and with + apology for my haste, handed him Master Tingcomb’s confession and told my + story. + </p> + <p> + When ’twas over, Sir Bevill sat pondering, and after a while said, very + frankly—— + </p> + <p> + “As a magistrate I can give this warrant; and ’twould be a pleasure, for + well, as a boy, do I remember Deakin Killigrew. Young sir——” + he rose up, and taking a turn across the room, came and laid a hand on my + shoulder, “I have seen his daughter. Is it too late to warn you against + loving her?” + </p> + <p> + “Why yes,” I answer’d blushing: “I think it is.” + </p> + <p> + “She seems both sweet and quaint. God forbid I should say a word against + one that has so taken me! But in these times a man should stand alone: to + make a friend is to run the chance of a soft heart: to marry a wife makes + the chance sure——” + </p> + <p> + He broke off, and went on again with a change of tone—— + </p> + <p> + “For many reasons I would blithely issue this warrant. But how am I to + spare men to carry it out? At any moment we may be assail’d.” + </p> + <p> + “If that be your concern, sir,” answer’d I, “give me the warrant. I have a + good friend here, a seafaring man, whose vessel lies at this moment in + Looe Haven, with a crew on board that will lay Master Tingcomb by the + heels in a trice. Within three days we’ll have him clapp’d in Launceston + Jail, and there at the next Assize you shall sit on the Grand Jury and + hear his case, by which time, I hope, the King’s law shall run on easier + wheels in Cornwall. The prisoners we have already I leave you to deal + withal: only, against my will, I must claim some mercy for that rogue, + Settle.” + </p> + <p> + To this Sir Bevill consented; and, to be short, the three knaves were next + morning pack’d off to Launceston: but in time, no evidence being brought + against them, regained their freedom, which they used to come to the + gallows, each in his own way. Their doings no longer concern this history, + and so I gladly leave them. + </p> + <p> + To return, then, to my proper tale, ’twas not ten minutes before I had the + warrant in my pocket. And by eleven o’clock (word having been carried to + Delia, and our plans laid before Billy Pottery, who on the spot engaged + himself to help us) our horses were brought round to the gate, and my + mistress appear’d, all ready for the journey. For tho’ assured that the + work needed not her presence, and that she had best wait at Stow till + Master Tingcomb was smok’d out of his nest, she would have none of it, but + was set on riding with me to see justice done on this fellow, of whose + villainy I had told her much the night before. And glad I was of her + choice, as I saw her standing on the entrance steps, fresh as a rose, and + in a fit habit once more: for Lady Grace had lent not only her own bay + horse, but also a riding dress and hat of grey velvet to equip her: and + stood in the porch to wish us <i>Godspeed!</i> while Sir Bevill help’d + Delia to the saddle. + </p> + <p> + So, with Billy tramping behind us, away we rode up the combe, where + Kilkhampton tower stood against the sky; and turning to wave hands at the + top, found our host and hostess still by the gate, watching us, with hands + rais’d to shield their eyes from the sun. + </p> + <p> + The whole petty tale of this day’s ride I shall not dwell upon. Indeed, I + scarcely noted the miles as they pass’d. For all the way we were + chattering, Delia telling me how Captain Settle and his gang had hurried + her (tho’ without indignity) across Dartmoor to Ashburton, thence to + Lynton in North Devon, and so along the coast of Somerset to Bristol; how + they there produced a paper, at sight of which Sir Nathaniel Fiennes, the + new Governor, kept her under lock and key. And thus she remained four + months, at the end of which time they convey’d her on board a sloop, + call’d the <i>Fortitude</i>, and bound for the Virginias, with the result + that has been told. To all of which I listened greedily, stealing from + time to time a look at her shape, that on horseback was graceful as a + willow, and into her eyes that, under the flapping grey brim, were gay and + fancy-free as ever. + </p> + <p> + “And did you,” asked I, “never at heart chide me for leaving you so!” + </p> + <p> + “Why no. I never took thee for a conjurer, Jack.” + </p> + <p> + “But, at least, you thought of me,” I urged. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear—oh, dear!” She pull’d rein and look’d at me: “I remember + now that last night I kiss’d thee. Forget it, Jack: last night, so glad + was I to be sav’d, I could have kiss’d a cobbler. Indeed, Jack,” she went + on seriously, “I would that some maid had got hold of thee, in all these + months, to cure thy silly notions!” + </p> + <p> + At Launceston, Billy Pottery took leave of us: and now went, due south, + toward Looe, with a light purse and lighter heart, undertaking that his + ship should lie off Gleys, with her crew ready for action, within + eight-and-forty hours. Delia and I rode faster now toward the southwest: + and having by this time recover’d my temper, I was recounting my flight + along this very road, when I heard a sound that brought my heart into my + mouth. + </p> + <p> + ’Twas the blast of a bugle, and came from behind the hill in front of us. + And at the same moment I understood. It must be Sir George Chudleigh’s + cavalry returning, on news of their comrades’ defeat, and we were riding + straight toward them, as into a trap. + </p> + <p> + Now what could have made me forgetful of this danger I cannot explain, + unless it be that our thorough victory over the rebels had given me the + notion that the country behind us was clear of foes. And Sir Bevill must + have had a notion we were going straight to Looe with Billy. At any rate, + there was no time to be lost: for my presence was a danger to Delia as + well. I cast a glance about me. There was no place to hide. + </p> + <p> + “Quick!” I cried; “follow me, and ride for dear life!” + </p> + <p> + And striking spur into Molly I turn’d sharp off the road and gallop’d + across the moor to the left, with Delia close after me. + </p> + <p> + We had gone about two hundred yards only when I heard a shout, and + glancing over my right shoulder, saw a green banner waving on the crest of + the road, and gathered about it the vanguard of the troop—some score + of dragoons: and these, having caught sight of us, were pausing a moment + to watch. + </p> + <p> + The shout presently was followed by another; to which I made no answer, + but held on my way, with the nose of Delia’s horse now level with my + stirrup: for I guess’d that my dress had already betrayed us. And this was + the case; for at the next glance I saw five or six dragoons detach + themselves from the main body, and gallop in a direction at an acute angle + to ours. On they came, yelling to us to halt, and scattering over the moor + to intercept us. + </p> + <p> + Not choosing, however, to be driven eastward, I kept a straight course and + trusted to our horses’ fleetness to carry us by them, out of reach of + their shot. In the pause of their first surprise we had stolen two hundred + yards more. I counted and found eight men thus in pursuit of us: and to my + joy heard the bugle blown again, and saw the rest of the troop, now + gathering fast above, move steadily along the road without intention to + follow. Doubtless the news of the Cornish success made them thus wary of + their good order. + </p> + <p> + [Illustration: two arrows] + </p> + <p> + Still, eight men were enough to run from; and now the nearest let fly with + his piece—more to frighten us, belike, than with any other view, for + we were far out of range. But it grew clear that if we held on our + direction they must cut us off: as you may see by these two arrows, the + long thin one standing for our own course, the thicker and shorter for + that of the dragoons. + </p> + <p> + Only now with good hope I saw a hill rising not half a mile in front, and + somewhat to the right of our course: and thought I “if we can gain the + hollow to the left of it, and put the hill between us, they must ride over + it or round—in either case losing much time.” So, pointing this out + to Delia, who rode on my left (to leave my pistol arm free and at the same + time be screen’d by me from shot of the dragoons) I drove my spurs deep + and called to Molly to make her best pace. + </p> + <p> + The enemy divin’d our purpose: and in a minute ’twas a desperate race for + the entrance to the hollow. But our horses were the faster, and we the + lighter riders; so that we won, with thirty yards to spare, from the + foremost:—not without damage, however; for finding himself baulked, + he sent a bullet at us which cut neatly through my off rein, so that my + bridle was henceforward useless and I could guide Molly with knee and + voice alone. Delia’s bay had shied at the sound of it, and likely enough + saved my mistress’ life by this; for the bullet must have pass’d within a + foot before her. + </p> + <p> + Down the hollow we raced with three dragoons at our heels, the rest going + round the hill. But they did little good by so doing, for after the hollow + came a broad, dismal sheet of water (by name Dozmare Pool, I have since + heard) about a mile round and bank’d with black peat. Galloping along the + left shore of this, we cut them off by near half a mile. But the three + behind followed doggedly, though dropping back with every stride. + </p> + <p> + Beyond the pool came a green valley; and a stream flowing down it, which + we jump’d easily. Glancing at Delia as she landed on the further side, I + noted that her cheeks were glowing, and her eyes brimful of mirth. + </p> + <p> + “Say, Jack,” she cried; “is not this better than love of women?” + </p> + <p> + “In Heaven’s name,” I called out, “take care!” + </p> + <p> + But ’twas too late. The green valley here melted into a treacherous bog, + in the which her bay was already plunging over his fetlocks, and every + moment sinking deeper. + </p> + <p> + “Throw me the rein!” I shouted, and catching the bridle close by the bit, + lean’d over and tried to drag the horse forward. By this, Molly also was + over hoofs in liquid mud. For a minute and more we heav’d and splashed: + and all the while the dragoons, seeing our fix, were shouting and drawing + nearer and nearer. But just as a brace of bullets splashed into the slough + at our feet, we stagger’d to the harder slope, and were gaining on them + again. So for twenty minutes along the spurs of the hills, we held on, the + enemy falling back and hidden, every now and again, in the hollows—but + always following: at the end of which time, Delia call’d from just behind + me— + </p> + <p> + “Jack—here’s a to-do: the bay is going lame!” + </p> + <p> + There was no doubt of it. I suppose he must have wrung his off hind leg in + fighting through the quag. Any way, ten minutes more would see the end of + his gallop. But at this moment we had won to the top of a stiff ascent: + and now, looking down at our feet, I had the joyfullest surprise. + </p> + <p> + ’Twas the moor of Temple spread below like a map, the low sun striking on + the ruin’d huts to the left of us, on the roof of Joan’s cottage, on the + scar of the high road, and the sides of the tall tor above it. + </p> + <p> + “In ten minutes,” said I, “we may be safe.” + </p> + <p> + So down into the plain we hurried: and I thought for the first time of the + loyal girl waiting in the cottage yonder; of my former ride into Temple; + and (with angry shame) of the light heart with which I left it. To what + had the summoning drums and trumpets led me? Where was the new life, then + so carelessly prevented? But two days had gone, and here was I running to + Joan for help, as a child to his mother. + </p> + <p> + Past the peat-ricks we struggled, the sheep-cotes, the straggling fences—all + so familiar; cross’d the stream and rode into the yard. + </p> + <p> + “Jump down,” I whisper’d: “we have time, and no more.” Glancing back, I + saw a couple of dragoons already coming over the heights. They had spied + us. + </p> + <p> + Dismounting I ran to the cottage door and flung it open. A stream of + light, flung back against the sun, blazed into my eyes. + </p> + <p> + I rubbed them and halted for a moment stock-still. + </p> + <p> + For Joan stood in front of me, dress’d in the very clothes I had worn on + the day we first met—buff-coat, breeches, heavy boots, and all. Her + back was toward me, and at the shoulder, where the coat had been cut away + from my wound, I saw the rents all darn’d and patch’d with pack thread. In + her hand was the mirror I had given her. + </p> + <p> + At the sound of my step on the threshold she turn’d with a short cry—a + cry the like of which I have never heard, so full was it of choking joy. + The glass dropp’d to the floor and was shatter’d. In a second her arms + were about me, and so she hung on my neck, sobbing and laughing together. + </p> + <p> + “’Twas true—’twas true! Dear, dear Jack—dear Jack to come to + me: hold me tighter, tighter—for my very heart is bursting!” + </p> + <p> + And behind me a shadow fell on the doorway: and there stood Delia + regarding us. + </p> + <p> + “Good lad—all yesterday I swore to be strong and wait for years, if + need be. Fie on womankind, to be so weak! All day I sat an’ sat, an’ did + never a mite o’ work—never set hand to a tool: an’ by sunset I gave + in an’ went, cursing mysel’, over the moor to Warleggan, to Alsie Pascoe, + the wise woman—an’ she taught me a charm—an’ bless her, bless + her, Jack, for’t hath brought thee!” + </p> + <p> + “Joan,” said I, hot with shame, taking her arms gently from my neck: + “listen: I come because I am chased. Once more the dragooners are after me—not + five minutes away. You must lend me a horse, and at once.” + </p> + <p> + “Nay,” said a voice in the doorway, “the horse, if lent, is for <i>me!</i>” + </p> + <p> + Joan turn’d, and the two women stood looking at each other;—the one + with dark wonder, the other with cold disdainfulness—and I between + them scarce lifting my eyes. Each was beautiful after her kind, as day and + night: and though their looks cross’d for a full minute like drawn blades, + neither had the mastery. Joan was the first to speak. + </p> + <p> + “Jack, is thy mare in the yard?” + </p> + <p> + I nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Give me thy pistols and thy cloak.” She stepp’d to the window hole at the + end of the kitchen, and look’d out. “Plenty o’ time,” she said; and + pointed to the ladder leading to the loft above—“Climb up there, the + both, and pull the ladder after. Is’t <i>thou</i>, they want—or <i>she?</i>” + pointing to Delia. + </p> + <p> + “Me chiefly they would catch, no doubt—being a man,” I answer’d. + </p> + <p> + “Aye—bein’ a man: the world’s full o’ folly. Then Jack do thou look + after <i>her</i>, an’ I’ll look after <i>thee</i>. If the rebels leave + thee in peace, make for the Jews’ Kitchen and there abide me.” + </p> + <p> + She flung my cloak about her, took my pistols and went out at the door. As + she did so, the sun sank and a dull shadow swept over the moor. “Joan!” I + cried, for now I guess’d her purpose and was following to hinder her: but + she had caught Molly’s bridle and was already astride of her. “Get back!” + she call’d softly; and then, “I make a better lad than wench, Jack,”—leap’d + the mare through a gap in the wall, and in a moment was breasting the hill + and galloping for the high road. + </p> + <p> + In less than a minute, as it seem’d, I heard a pounding of hoofs, and had + barely time to follow Delia up the ladder and pull it after me, when two + of the dragoons rode skurrying by the house, and pass’d on yelling. Their + cries were hardly faint in the distance before there came another three. + </p> + <p> + “’A’s a lost man, now, for sure,” said one: “Be dang’d if ’a’s not took + the road back to Lan’son!” + </p> + <p> + “How ’bout the gal?” ask’d another voice. “Here’s her horse i’ the yard.” + </p> + <p> + “Drat the gal! Sam, go thou an’ tackle her: reckon thou’rt warriors enow + for one ’ooman.” + </p> + <p> + The two hasten’d on: and presently I heard the one they call’d “Sam” + dismounting in the yard. Now there was a window hole in the loft, facing, + not on the yard, but toward the country behind; and running to it I saw + that no more were following—the other three having, as I suppose, + early given up the chase. Softly pulling out a loose stone or two, I + widen’d this hole till I could thrust the ladder out of it. To my joy it + just reach’d the ground. I bade Delia squeeze herself through and climb + down. + </p> + <p> + But before she was halfway down I heard a wild screech in the kitchen + below, and the voice of Sam shrieking— + </p> + <p> + “Help—help! Lord ha’ mercy ’pon me—’tis a black cat—’tis + a witch! The gal’s no gal, but a witch!” + </p> + <p> + Laughing softly, I was descending the ladder when the fellow came round + the corner screaming—with Jan Tergagle clawing at his back and + spitting murderously. Delia had just time to slip aside, before he ran + into the ladder and brought me flying on top of him. And there he lay and + bellow’d till I tied him, and gagg’d his noise with a big stone in his + mouth and his own scarf tied round it. + </p> + <p> + “Come!” I whisper’d: for Joan and her pursuers were out of sight. Catching + up her long skirt, Delia follow’d me, and up the tor we panted together, + nor rested till we were safe in the Jews’ Kitchen. + </p> + <p> + “What think you of this for a hiding place?” ask’d I, with a laugh. + </p> + <p> + But Delia did not laugh. Instead, she faced me with blazing eyes, check’d + herself and answer’d, cold as ice— + </p> + <p> + “Sir, you have done me a many favors. How I have trusted you in return it + were best for you to remember, and for me to forget.” + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <p> + The dark drew on; the western star grew distinct and hung flashing over + against our hiding; and still we sat there, hour after hour, silent, + angry, waiting for Joan’s return, Delia at the entrance of the den, chin + on hand, scanning the heavens and never once turning toward me; I further + inside, with my arms cross’d, raging against myself and all the world, yet + with a sick’ning dread that Joan would never come back. + </p> + <p> + As the time lagg’d by, this terror grew and grew. But, as I think, about + ten o’clock, I heard steps coming over the turf. I ran out. ’Twas Joan + herself and leading Molly by the bridle. She walk’d as if tir’d, and + leaving the mare at the entrance, follow’d me into the cave. Glancing + round, I noted that Delia had slipp’d away. + </p> + <p> + “Am glad she’s gone,” said Joan shortly: “How many rebels pass’d this way, + Jack?” + </p> + <p> + “Five, counting one that lies gagg’d and bound, down at the cottage.” + </p> + <p> + “That leaves four:”—she stretch’d herself on the ground with a sigh—“four + that’ll never trouble thee more, lad.” + </p> + <p> + “Why? how—” + </p> + <p> + “Listen, lad: sit down an’ let me rest my head ’pon thy knee. Oh, Jack, I + did it bravely! Eight good miles an’ more I took the mare—by the + Four—hol’d Cross, an’ across the moor past Tober an’ Catshole, an’ + over Brown Willy, an’ round Roughtor to the nor’-west: an’ there lies the + bravest quag—oh, a black, bottomless hole!—an’ into it I led + them; an’ there they lie, every horse, an’ every mother’s son, till + Judgment Day.” + </p> + <p> + “Dead?” + </p> + <p> + “Aye—an’ the last twain wi’ a bullet apiece in their skulls. Oh, + rare! Dear heart—hold my head—so, atween thy hands. ‘Put on + his cast off duds,’ said Alsie, ’an’ stand afore the glass, sayin’ “Come, + true man!” nine-an’-ninety time.’ I was mortal ’feard o’ losin’ count; but + afore I got to fifty, I heard thy step an’—hold me closer, Jack.” + </p> + <p> + “But Joan, are these men dead, say you?” + </p> + <p> + “Surely, yes. Why, lad, what be four rebels, up or down, to make this coil + over? Hast never axed after <i>me</i>!” + </p> + <p> + “Joan—you are not hurt?” + </p> + <p> + In the darkness I sought her eyes, and, peering into them, drew back. + </p> + <p> + “Joan!” + </p> + <p> + “Hush, lad—bend down thy head, and let me whisper. I went too near—an’ + one, that was over his knees, let fly wi’ his musket—an’ Jack, I + have but a minute or two. Hush lad, hush—there’s no call! Wert never + the man could ha’ tam’d me—art the weaker, in a way: forgie the + word, for I lov’d thee so, boy Jack!” + </p> + <p> + Her arms were drawing down my face to her: her eyes dull with pain. + </p> + <p> + “Feel, Jack—there—over my right breast. I plugg’d the wound + wi’ a peat turf. Pull it out, for ’tis bleeding inwards, and hurts cruelly—pull + it out!” + </p> + <p> + As I hesitated, she thrust her own hand in and drew it forth, leaving the + hot blood to gush. + </p> + <p> + “An’ now, Jack, tighter—hold me tighter. Kiss me—oh, what + brave times! Tighter, lad, an’ call wi’ me—‘Church an’ King!’ Call, + lad—‘Church an’—’” + </p> + <p> + The warm arms loosen’d: the head sank back upon my lap. + </p> + <p> + I look’d up. There was a shadow across the entrance, blotting out the star + of night. ’Twas Delia, leaning there and listening. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0019"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class='chapter'><h2> + CHAPTER XIX. — THE ADVENTURE OF THE HEARSE. + </h2></div> + <p> + The day-spring came at last, and in the sick light of it I went down to + the cottage for spade and pickaxe. In the tumult of my senses I hardly + noted that our prisoner, the dragoon, had contrived to slip his bonds and + steal off in the night. + </p> + <p> + And then Delia, seeing me return with the sad tools on my shoulder, spoke + for the first time: + </p> + <p> + “First, if there be a well near, fetch me two buckets of water, and leave + us for an hour.” + </p> + <p> + Her voice was weary and chill: so that I dared not thank her, but did the + errand in silence. Then, but a dozen paces from the spot where Joan’s + father lay, I dug a grave and strew’d it with bracken, and heather, and + gorse petals, that in the morning air smell’d rarely. And soon after my + task was done, Delia call’d me. + </p> + <p> + In her man’s dress Joan lay, her arms cross’d, her black tresses braided, + and her face gentler than ever ’twas in life. Over her wounded breast was + a bunch of some tiny pink flower, that grew about the tor. + </p> + <p> + So I lifted her softly as once in this same place she had lifted me, and + bore her down the slope to the grave: and there I buried her, while Delia + knelt and pray’d, and Molly browsed, lifting now and then her head to + look. + </p> + <p> + When all was done, we turn’d away, dry-eyed, and walked together to the + cottage. The bay horse was feeding on the moor below; and finding him + still too lame to carry Delia, I shifted the saddles, and mending the + broken rein, set her on Molly. The cottage door stood open, but we did not + enter; only look’d in, and seeing Jan Tergagle curl’d beside the cold + hearth, left him so. + </p> + <p> + Mile after mile we pass’d in silence, Delia riding, and I pacing beside + her with the bay. At last, tortur’d past bearing, I spoke— + </p> + <p> + “Delia, have you nothing to say?” + </p> + <p> + For a while she seem’d to consider: then, with her eyes fix’d on the hills + ahead, answered— + </p> + <p> + “Much, if I could speak: but all this has changed me somehow—’tis, + perhaps, that I have grown a woman, having been a girl—and need to + get used to it, and think.” + </p> + <p> + She spoke not angrily, as I look’d for; but with a painful slowness that + was less hopeful. + </p> + <p> + “But,” said I, “over and over you have shown that I am nought to you. + Surely—” + </p> + <p> + “Surely I am jealous? ’Tis possible—yes, Jack, I am but a woman, and + so ’tis certain.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, to be jealous, you must love me!” + </p> + <p> + She look’d at me straight, and answered very deliberate— + </p> + <p> + “Now that is what I am far from sure of.” + </p> + <p> + “But, dear Delia, when your anger has cool’d—” + </p> + <p> + “My anger was brief: I am disappointed, rather. With her last breath, + almost, Joan said you were weaker than she: she lov’d you better than I, + and read you clearer. You <i>are</i> weak. Jack”—she drew in Molly, + and let her hand fall on my shoulder very kindly—“we have been + comrades for many a long mile, and I hope are honest good friends; + wherefore I loathe to say a harsh or ungrateful-seeming word. But you + could not understand that brave girl, and you cannot understand me: for as + yet you do not even know yourself. The knowledge comes slowly to a man, I + think; to a woman at one rush. But when it comes, I believe you may be + strong. Now leave me to think, for my head is all of a tangle.” + </p> + <p> + Our pace was so slow (by reason of the lame horse), that a great part of + the afternoon was spent before we came in sight of the House of Gleys. And + truly the yellow sunshine had flung some warmth about the naked walls and + turrets, so that Delia’s home-coming seem’d not altogether cheerless. But + what gave us more happiness was to spy, on the blue water beyond, the + bright canvas of the <i>Godsend</i>, and to hear the cries and stir of + Billy Pottery’s mariners as they haul’d down the sails. + </p> + <p> + And Billy himself was on the lookout with his spyglass. For hardly were we + come to the beach when our signal—the waving of a white kerchief—was + answered by another on board; and within half an hour a boat puts off, + wherein, as she drew nearer, I counted eight fellows. + </p> + <p> + They were (besides Billy), Matt. Soames, the master, Gabriel Hutchins, Ned + Masters, the black man Sampson, Ben Halliday, and two whose full names I + have forgot—but one was call’d Nicholas. And, after many warm + greetings, the boat was made fast, and we climbed up along the peninsula + together, in close order, like a little army. + </p> + <p> + All this time there was no sign or sound about the House of Gleys to show + that anyone mark’d us or noted our movements. The gate was closed, the + windows stood shutter’d, as on my former visit: even the chimneys were + smokeless. Such effect had this desolation on our spirits, that drawing + near, we fell to speaking in whispers, and said Ned Masters— + </p> + <p> + “Now a man would think us come to bury somebody!” + </p> + <p> + “He might make a worse guess,” I answer’d. + </p> + <p> + Marching up to the gate, I rang a loud peal on the bell; and to my + astonishment, before the echoes had time to die away, the grating was + push’d back, and the key turn’d in the lock. + </p> + <p> + “Step ye in—step ye in, good folks! A sorry day,—a day of sobs + an’ tears an’ afflicted blowings of the nose—when the grasshopper is + a burden an’ the mourners go about seeking whom they may devour the + funeral meats. Y’ are welcome, gentlemen.” + </p> + <p> + ’Twas the voice of my one-eyed friend, as he undid the bolts; and now he + stood in the gateway with a prodigious black sash across his canary + livery, so long that the ends of it swept the flagstones. + </p> + <p> + “Is Master Tingcomb within?” I helped Delia to dismount, and gave our two + horses to a stable boy that stood shuffling some paces off. + </p> + <p> + “Alas!” the old man heav’d a deep sigh, and with that began to hobble + across the yard. We troop’d after, wondering. At the house door he turn’d— + </p> + <p> + “Sirs, there is cold roasted capons, an’ a ham, an’ radishes in choice + profusion for such as be not troubled wi’ the wind: an’ cordial wines—alack + the day!” + </p> + <p> + He squeez’d a frosty tear from his one eye, and led us to a large bare + hall, hung round with portraits; where was a table spread with a plenty of + victuals, and horn-handled knives and forks laid beside plates of pewter; + and at the table a man in black, eating. He had straight hair and a sallow + face; and look’d up as we enter’d, but, groaning, in a moment fell to + again. + </p> + <p> + “Eat, sirs,” the old servitor exhorted us: “alas! that man may take + nothing out o’ the world!” + </p> + <p> + I know not who of us was most taken aback. But noting Delia’s sad + wondering face, as her eyes wander’d round the neglected room and rested + on the tatter’d portraits, I lost patience. + </p> + <p> + “Our business is with Master Hannibal Tingcomb,” said I sharply. + </p> + <p> + The straight-hair’d man look’d up again, his mouth full of ham. + </p> + <p> + “Hush!”—he held his fork up, and shook his head sorrowfully: and I + wonder’d where I had seen him before. “Hast thou an angel’s wings?” he + ask’d. + </p> + <p> + “Why, no, sir; but the devil’s own boots—as you shall find if I be + not answer’d.” + </p> + <p> + “Young man—young man,” broke in the one-eyed butler: “our minister + is a good minister, an’ speaks roundabout as such: but the short is, that + my master is dead, an’ in his coffin.” + </p> + <p> + “The mortal part,” corrected the minister, cutting another slice. + </p> + <p> + “Aye, the immortal is a-trippin’ it i’ the New Jeroosalem: but the mortal + was very lamentably took wi’ a fit, three days back—the same day, + young man, as thou earnest wi’ thy bloody threats.” + </p> + <p> + “A fit?” + </p> + <p> + “Aye, sir, an’ verily—such a fit as thou thysel’ witness’d. ’Twas + the third attack—an’ he cried, ‘Oh!’ he did, an’ ‘Ah!’—just + like that. ‘Oh!’ an’ then ‘Ah!’ Such were his last dyin’ speech. ‘Dear + Master,’ says I, ‘there’s no call to die so hard:’ but might so well ha’ + whistled, for he was dead as nails. A beautiful corpse, sirs, dang my + buttons!” + </p> + <p> + “Show him to us.” + </p> + <p> + “Willingly, young man.” He led the way to the very room where Master + Tingcomb and I had held our interview. As before, six candles were burning + there: but the table was push’d into a corner, and now their light fell on + a long black coffin, resting on trestles in the centre of the room. The + coffin was clos’d, and studded with silver nails; on the lid was a silver + plate bearing these words written—“<i>Hannibal Tingcomb</i>, + MDCXLIII.,” with a text of Scripture below. + </p> + <p> + “Why have you nail’d him down?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “Now where be thy bowels, young man, to talk so unfeelin’? An’ where be + thy experience, not to know the ways o’ thy blessed dead in summer time?” + </p> + <p> + “When do you bury him?” + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow forenoon. The spot is two mile from here.” He blinked at me, + and hesitated for a minute. “Is it your purpose, sirs, to attend?” + </p> + <p> + “Be sure of that,” I said grimly. “So have beds ready to-night for all our + company.” + </p> + <p> + “All thy—! Dear sir, consider: where are beds to be found? Sure, thy + mariners can pass the night aboard their own ship?” + </p> + <p> + “So then,” thought I, “you have been on the lookout;” but Delia replied + for me— + </p> + <p> + “I am Delia Killigrew, and mistress of this house. You will prepare the + beds as you are told.” Whereupon what does that decrepit old sinner but + drop upon his knees? + </p> + <p> + “Mistress Delia! O goodly feast for this one poor eye! Oh, that Master + Tingcomb had seen this day!” + </p> + <p> + I declare the tears were running down his nose; but Delia march’d out, + cutting short his hypocrisy. + </p> + <p> + In the passage she whisper’d— + </p> + <p> + “Villainy, Jack!” + </p> + <p> + “Hush!” I answered, “and listen: <i>Master Tingcomb is no more in that + coffin than I.</i>” + </p> + <p> + “Then where is he?” + </p> + <p> + “That is just what we are to discover.” As I said this a light broke on + me. “By the Lord,” I cried, “’tis the very same!” + </p> + <p> + Delia open’d her eyes wide. + </p> + <p> + “Wait,” I said: “I begin to touch ground.” + </p> + <p> + We returned to the great hall. The straight-hair’d man was still eating, + and opposite sat Billy, that had not budg’d, but now beckoning to me, very + mysterious, whisper’d in a voice that made the plates rattle— + </p> + <p> + “That’s—a damned—rogue!” + </p> + <p> + ’Twas discomposing, but the truth. In fact, I had just solv’d a puzzle. + This holy-speaking minister was no other than the groom I had seen at + Bodmin Fair holding Master Tingcomb’s horses. + </p> + <p> + By this, the sun was down, and Delia soon made an excuse to withdraw to + her own room. Nor was it long before the rest followed her example. I + found our chambers prepared, near together, in a wing of the house at some + distance from the hall. Delia’s was next to mine, as I made sure by + knocking at her door: and on the other side of me slept Billy with two of + his crew. My own bed was in a great room sparely furnish’d; and the linen + indifferent white. There was a plenty of clean straw, tho’, on the floor, + had I intended to sleep—which I did not. + </p> + <p> + Instead, having blown out my light, I sat on the bed’s edge, listening to + the big clock over the hall as it chim’d the quarters, and waiting till + the fellows below should be at their ease. That Master Tingcomb rested + under the coffin lid, I did not believe, in spite of the terrifying fit + that I could vouch for. But this, if driven to it, we could discover at + the grave. The main business was to catch him; and to this end I meant to + patrol the buildings, and especially watch the entrance, on the likely + chance of his creeping back to the house (if not already inside), to + confer with his fellow-rascals. + </p> + <p> + As eleven o’clock sounded, therefore, I tapp’d on Billy’s wall; and + finding that Matt. Soames was keeping watch (as we had agreed upon), + slipp’d off my boots. Our rooms were on the first floor, over a straw + yard; and the distance to the ground an easy drop for a man. But wishing + to be silent as possible, I knotted two blankets together, and strapping + the end round the window mullion, swung myself down by one hand, holding + my boots in the other. + </p> + <p> + I dropp’d very lightly, and look’d about. There was a faint moon up and + glimmering on the straw; but under the house was deep shadow, and along + this I crept. The straw yard led into the court before the stables, and so + into the main court. All this way I heard no sound, nor spied so much as a + speck of light in any window. The house door was clos’d, and the bar + fastened on the great gate across the yard. I turn’d the corner to explore + the third side of the house. + </p> + <p> + Here was a group of outbuildings jutting out, and between them and the + high outer wall a narrow alley. ’Twas with difficulty I groped my way + here, for the passage was dark as pitch, and rendered the straiter by a + line of ragged laurels planted under the house; so that at every other + step I would stumble, and run my head into a bush. + </p> + <p> + I had done this for the eighth time, and was cursing under my breath, when + on a sudden I heard a stealthy footfall coming down the alley behind me. + </p> + <p> + “Master Tingcomb, for a crown!” thought I, and crouch’d to one side under + a bush. The footsteps drew nearer. A dark form parted the laurels: another + moment, and I had it by the throat. + </p> + <p> + “Uugh—ugh—grr! For the Lord’s sake, sir,—” + </p> + <p> + I loos’d my hold: ’twas Matt. Soames. “Your pardon,” whisper’d I; “but why + have you left your post?” + </p> + <p> + “Black Sampson is watchin’, so I took the freedom—ugh! my poor + windpipe!—to—” + </p> + <p> + He broke off to catch me by the sleeve and pull me down behind the bush. + About twelve paces ahead I heard a door softly open’d and saw a shaft of + light flung across the path between the glist’ning laurels. As the ray + touch’d the outer wall, I mark’d a small postern gate there, standing + open. + </p> + <p> + Cowering lower, we waited while a man might count fifty. Then came + footsteps crunching the gravel, and a couple of men cross’d the path, + bearing a large chest between them. In the light I saw the handle of a + spade sticking out from it: and by his gait I knew the second man to be my + one-ey’d friend. + </p> + <p> + “Woe’s my old bones!” he was muttering: “here’s a fardel for a man o’ my + years!” + </p> + <p> + “Hold thy breath for the next load!” growl’d the other voice, which as + surely was the good minister’s. + </p> + <p> + They pass’d out of the small gate, and by the sounds that follow’d, we + guess’d they were hoisting their burden into a cart. Presently they + re-cross’d the path, and entered the house, shutting the door after them. + </p> + <p> + “Now for it!” said I in Matt’s ear. Gliding forward, I peep’d out at the + postern gate; but drew back like a shot. + </p> + <p> + I had almost run my head into a great black hearse, that stood there with + the door open, back’d against the gate, the heavy plumes nodding above it + in the night wind. + </p> + <p> + Who held the horses I had not time to see: but whispering to Matt, to give + me a leg up, clamber’d inside. “Quick!” I pull’d him after, and crept + forward. I wonder’d the man did not hear us: but by good luck the horses + were restive, and by his maudlin talk to them I knew he was three parts + drunk—on the funeral wines, doubtless. + </p> + <p> + I crept along, and found the tool chest stow’d against the further end: + so, pulling it gently out, we got behind it. Tho’ Matt was the littlest + man of my acquaintance, ’twas the work of the world to stow ourselves in + such compass as to be hidden. By coiling up our limbs we managed it; but + only just before I caught the glimmer of a light and heard the pair of + rascals returning. + </p> + <p> + They came very slow, grumbling all the way; and of course, I knew they + carried the coffin. + </p> + <p> + “All right, Sim?” ask’d the minister. + </p> + <p> + “Aye,” piped a squeaky voice by the horses heads (’twas the shuffling + stable boy), “aye, but look sharp! Lord, what sounds I’ve heerd! The + devil’s i’ the hearse, for sure!” + </p> + <p> + “Now, Simmy,” the one-ey’d gaffer expostulated, “thou dostn’ think the + smoky King is a-took in, same as they poor folks upstairs? Tee-hee! Lord, + what a trick!—to come for Master Tingcomb, an’ find—aw dear!—aw, + bless my old ribs, what a thing is humor!” + </p> + <p> + “Shut up!” grunted the minister. The end of the coffin was tilted up into + the hearse. “Push, old varmint!” + </p> + <p> + “Aye-push, push! Where be my young, active sinews? What a shrivell’d + garment is all my comeliness! ‘The devil inside,’ says Simmy—haw, + haw!” + </p> + <p> + “Burn the thing! ’twon’t go in for the tool box. Push, thou cackling old + worms!” + </p> + <p> + “Now so I be, but my natural strength is abated. ‘Yo-heave ho!’ like the + salted seafardingers upstairs. Push, push!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my inwards!” groans poor Matt, under his breath, into whom the chest + was squeezing sorely. + </p> + <p> + “Right at last!” says the minister. “Now, Simmy, nay lad, hand the reins + an’ jump up. There’s room, an’ you’ll be wanted.” + </p> + <p> + The door was clapp’d-to, the three rogues climb’d upon the seat in front: + and we started. + </p> + <p> + I hope I may never be call’d to pass such another half hour as that which + follow’d. As soon as the wheels left turf for the hard road, ’twas jolt, + jolt all the way; and this lying mainly down hill, the chest and coffin + came grinding into our ribs, and pressing till we could scarce breathe. + And I dared not climb out over them, for fear the fellows should hear us; + their chuckling voices coming quite plain to us from the other side of the + panel. I held out, and comforted Matt, as well as I could, feeling sure we + should find Master Tingcomb at our journey’s end. Soon we climb’d a hill, + which eas’d us a little; but shortly after were bumping down again, and + suffering worse than ever. + </p> + <p> + “Save us,” moan’d Matt, “where will this end?” + </p> + <p> + The words were scarce out, when we turn’d sharp to the right, with a jolt + that shook our teeth together, roll’d for a little while over smooth + grass, and drew up. + </p> + <p> + I heard the fellows climbing down, and got my pistols out. + </p> + <p> + “Simmy,” growl’d the minister, “where’s the lantern?” + </p> + <p> + There was a minute or so of silence, and then the snapping of flint and + steel, and the sound of puffing. + </p> + <p> + “Lit, Simmy?” + </p> + <p> + “Aye, here ’tis.” + </p> + <p> + “Fetch it along then.” + </p> + <p> + The handle of the door was turn’d, and a light flash’d into the hearse. + </p> + <p> + “Here, hold the lantern steady! Come hither, old Squeaks, and help wi’ the + end.” + </p> + <p> + “Surely I will. Well was I call’d Young Look-alive when a gay, fleeting + boy. Simmy, my son, thou’rt sadly drunken. O youth, youth! Thou + winebibber, hold the light steady, or I’ll tell thy mammy!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, sir, I do mortally dread the devil an’ all his works!” + </p> + <p> + “Now, if ever! The devil,’ says he—an’ Master Tingcomb still livin’, + an’ in his own house awaitin’ us!” + </p> + <p> + Be sure, his words were as good as a slap in the face to me. For I had + counted the hearse to lead me straight to Master Tingcomb himself. “In his + own house,” too! A fright seiz’d me for Delia. But first I must deal with + these scoundrels, who already were dragging out the coffin. + </p> + <p> + “Steady there!” calls the minister. The coffin was more than halfway + outside. I levell’d my pistol over the edge of the tool chest, and fetch’d + a yell fit to wake a ghost—at the same time letting fly straight for + the minister. + </p> + <p> + In the flash of the discharge, I saw him, half-turn’d, his eyes starting, + and mouth agape. He clapp’d his hand to his shoulder. On top of his wild + shriek, broke out a chorus of screams and oaths, in the middle of which + the coffin tilted up and went over with a crash. “Satan—Satan!” + bawled Simmy, and, dropping the lantern, took to his heels for dear life. + At the same moment the horses took fright; and before I could scramble + out, we were tearing madly away over the turf and into the darkness. I had + made a sad mess of it. + </p> + <p> + It must have been a full minute before the hedge turn’d them, and gave me + time to drop out at the back and run to their heads. Matt. Soames was + after me, quick as thought, and very soon we mastered them, and gathering + up the reins from between their legs, led them back. As luck would have + it, the lantern had not been quench’d by the fall, but lay flaring, and so + guided us. Also a curious bright radiance seem’d growing on the sky, for + which I could not account. The three knaves were nowhere to be seen, but I + heard their footsteps scampering in the distance, and Simmy still yelling + “Satan!” I knew my bullet had hit the minister; but he had got away, and I + never set eyes on any of the three again. + </p> + <p> + Leaving Matt to mind the horses, I caught up the lantern, and look’d about + me. As well as could be seen, we were in a narrow meadow between two + hills, whereof the black slopes rose high above us. Some paces to the + right, my ear caught the noise of a stream running. + </p> + <p> + I turn’d the lantern on the coffin, which lay face downward, and with a + gasp took in the game those precious rogues had been playing. For, with + the fall of it, the boards (being but thin) were burst clean asunder; and + on both sides had tumbled out silver cups, silver saltcellars, silver + plates and dishes, that in the lantern’s rays sparkled prettily on the + turf. The coffin, in short, was stuff’d with Delia’s silverware. + </p> + <p> + I had pick’d up a great flagon, and was turning it over to read the + inscription, when Matt. Soames call’d to me, and pointed over the hill in + front. Above it the whole sky was red and glowing. + </p> + <p> + “Sure,” said he, “’tis a fire out yonder!” + </p> + <p> + “God help us, Matt.—’tis the House of Gleys!” + </p> + <p> + It took but two minutes to toss the silver back into the hearse. I + clapp’d-to the door, and snatching the reins, sprang upon the driver’s + seat. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0020"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <div class='chapter'><h2> + CHAPTER XX. — THE ADVENTURE OF THE LEDGE; AND HOW I SHOOK HANDS WITH + MY COMRADE. + </h2></div> + <p> + We had some ado to find the gate: but no sooner were through, and upon the + high road, than I lash’d the horses up the hill at a gallop. To guide us + between the dark hedges we had only our lantern and the glare ahead. The + dishes and cups clash’d and rattled as the hearse bump’d in the ruts, + swaying wildly: a dozen times Matt, was near being pitch’d clean out of + his seat. With my legs planted firm, I flogg’d away like a madman; and + like mad creatures the horses tore upward. + </p> + <p> + On the summit a glance show’d us all—the wild crimson’d sky—the + sea running with lines of fire—and against it the inky headland + whereon the House of Gleys flar’d like a beacon. Already from one wing—<i>our</i> + wing—a leaping column of flame whirl’d up through the roof, and was + swept seaward in smoke and sparks. I mark’d the coast line, the cliff + tracks, the masts and hull of the <i>Godsend</i> standing out, clear as + day; and nearer, the yellow light flickering over the fields of young + corn. We saw all this, and then were plunging down hill, with the blaze + full ahead of us. The heavy reek of it was flung in our nostrils as we + gallop’d. + </p> + <p> + At the bottom we caught up a group of men running. ’Twas a boatload come + from the ship to help. As our horses swept past them, one or two came to a + terrified halt; but presently were running hard again after us. + </p> + <p> + The great gate stood open. I drove straight into the bright-lit yard, + shouting “Delia!—where is Delia?” + </p> + <p> + “Here!” call’d a voice; and from a group that stood under the glare of the + window came my dear mistress running. + </p> + <p> + “All safe, Jack! But what—” She drew back from our strange equipage. + </p> + <p> + “All in good time. First tell me—how came the fire?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, foul work, as it seems. All I know is I was sleeping, and awoke to + hear the black seaman hammering on my door. Jumping up, I found the room + full of smoke, and escap’d. The rooms beneath, they say, were stuff’d with + straw, and the yard outside heap’d also with straw, and blazing. Ben + Halliday found two oil jars lying there—” + </p> + <p> + “Are the horses out?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Jack—I do not know! Shame on me to forget them!” + </p> + <p> + I ran toward the stable. Already the roof was ablaze, and the straw yard, + beyond, a very furnace. Rushing in, I found the two horses cowering in + their stalls, bath’d in sweat, and squealing. But ’twas all fright. So I + fetch’d Molly’s saddle, and spoke to her, and set it across her back: and + the sweet thing was quiet in a moment, turning her head to rub my sleeve + gently with her muzzle: and followed me out like a lamb. The bay gave more + trouble; but I sooth’d him in the same manner, and patting his neck, led + him, too, into safety. + </p> + <p> + By this, all hope to save the house was over: for the well in the court + yielded but twenty buckets before it ran dry, and after that no water was + to be had. Of the wing where the fire burst out only the walls stood, and + a few oaken rafters, that one by one came tumbling and crashing. The + flames had spread along the roof, and were now licking the ceiling of the + hall and spouting around the clock tower. In the roar and hubbub, Billy’s + men work’d like demons, dragging out chairs, chests, and furniture of all + kinds, which they strew’d in the yard, returning with shouts for more. One + was tearing down the portraits in the hall: another was pulling out the + great dresser from the kitchen: a third had found a pile of tapestry and + came staggering forth under the load of it. + </p> + <p> + I had fasten’d the horses by the gate, and was ready to join in the work, + when a shout was rais’d— + </p> + <p> + “Billy!—Where’s Billy Pottery? Has any seen the skipper?” + </p> + <p> + “Sure,” I call’d, “you don’t say he was never alarm’d!” + </p> + <p> + “Black Sampson was in his room—where’s Black Sampson?” + </p> + <p> + “Here I be!” cried a voice. “To be sure I woke the skipper before any o’ + ye.” + </p> + <p> + “Then where’s he hid? Did any see him come out?” + </p> + <p> + “Now, that we have not!” answer’d one or two. + </p> + <p> + I stood by the house door shouting these questions to the men inside, when + a hand was laid on my arm, and there in the shadow waited Billy himself, + with a mighty curious twinkle in his eye. He put a finger up and signed + that I should follow. + </p> + <p> + We pass’d round the outbuildings where, three hours before, Matt. Soames + and I had hid together. I was minded to stop and pull on my boots, that + were hid here: but (and this was afterward the saving of me) on second + thoughts let them lie, and follow’d Billy, who now led me out by the + postern gate. + </p> + <p> + Without speech we stepp’d across the turf, he a pace or two ahead. A night + breeze was blowing here, delicious after the heat of the fire. We were + walking quickly toward the east side of the headland, and soon the blaze + behind flung our shadows right to the cliff’s edge, for which Billy made + straight, as if to fling himself over. + </p> + <p> + But when, at the very verge, he pull’d up, I became enlighten’d. At our + feet was an iron bar driven into the soil, and to it a stout rope knotted, + that ran over a block and disappeared down the cliff. I knelt and, pulling + at it softly, look’d up. It came easy in the hand. + </p> + <p> + Billy, with the glare in his face, nodded: and bending to my ear, for once + achiev’d a whisper. + </p> + <p> + “Saw one stealing hither—an’ follow’d. A man wi’ a limp foot—went + over the side like a cat.” + </p> + <p> + I must have appeared to doubt this good fortune, for he added— + </p> + <p> + “‘Be a truth speakin’ man i’ the main, Jack—’lay over ’pon my belly, + and spied a ledge—fifty feet down or less—’reckon there be a + way thence to the foot. Dear, now! what a rampin’, tearin’ sweat is this?” + </p> + <p> + For, fast as I could tug, I was hauling up the rope. Near sixty feet came + up before I reach’d the end—a thick twisted knot. I rove a long + noose; pull’d it over my head and shoulders, and made Billy understand he + was to lower me. + </p> + <p> + “Sit i’ the noose, lad, an’ hold round the knot. For sign to hoist again, + tug the rope hard. I can hold.” + </p> + <p> + He paid it out carefully while I stepp’d to the edge. With the noose about + my loins I thrust myself gently over, and in a trice hung swaying. + </p> + <p> + On three sides the sky compass’d me—wild and red, save where to + eastward the dawn was paling: on the fourth the dark rocky face seem’d + gliding upward as Billy lower’d. Far below I heard the wash of the sea, + and could just spy the white spume of it glimmering. It stole some of the + heart out of me, and I took my eyes off it. + </p> + <p> + Some feet below the top, the cliff fetch’d a slant inward, so that I + dangled a full three feet out from the face. As a boy I had adventured + something of this sort on the north sides of Gable and the Pillar, and + once (after a nest of eaglets) on the Mickledore cliffs: but then ’twas + daylight. Now, tho’ I saw the ledge under me, about a third of the way + down, it look’d, in the darkness, to be so extremely narrow, that ’tis + probable I should have call’d out to Billy to draw me up but for the + certainty that he would never hear: so instead I held very tight and + wish’d it over. + </p> + <p> + Down I sway’d (Billy letting out the rope very steady), and at last swung + myself inward to the ledge, gain’d a footing, and took a glance round + before slipping off the rope. + </p> + <p> + I stood on a shelf of sandy rock that wound round the cliff some way to my + left, and then, as I thought, broke sharply away. ’Twas mainly about a + yard in width, but in places no more than two feet. In the growing light I + noted the face of the headland ribb’d with several of these ledges, of + varying length, but all hollow’d away underneath (as I suppose by the sea + in former ages), so that the cliff’s summit overhung the base by a great + way: and peering over I saw the waves creeping right beneath me. + </p> + <p> + Now all this while I had not let Master Tingcomb out of my mind. So I + slipp’d off the rope and left it to dangle, while I crept forward to + explore, keeping well against the rock and planting my feet with great + caution. + </p> + <p> + I believe I was twenty minutes taking as many steps, when at the point + where the ledge broke off I saw the ends of an iron ladder sticking up, + and close beside it a great hole in the rock, which till now the curve of + the cliff had hid. The ladder no doubt stood on a second shelf below. + </p> + <p> + I was pausing to consider this, when a bright ray stream’d across the sea + toward me, and the red rim of the sun rose out of the waters, outfacing + the glow on the headland, and rending the film of smoke that hung like a + curtain about the horizon. ’Twas as if by alchemy that the red ripples + melted to gold; and I stood watching with a child’s delight. + </p> + <p> + I heard the sound of a footstep: and fac’d round. + </p> + <p> + Before me, not six paces off, stood Hannibal Tingcomb. + </p> + <p> + He was issuing from the hole with a sack on his shoulder, and sneaking to + descend the steps, when he threw a glance behind—and saw me! + </p> + <p> + Neither spoke. With a face grey as ashes he turn’d very slowly, until in + the unnatural light we look’d straight into each other’s eyes. His never + blink’d, but stared—stared horribly, while the veins swell’d black + on his forehead and his lips work’d, attempting speech. No words came—only + a long drawn sob, deep down in his throat. + </p> + <p> + And then, letting slip the sack, he flung his arms up, ran a pace or two + toward me, and tumbled on his face in a fit. His left shoulder hung over + the verge; his legs slipp’d. In a trice he was hanging by his arms, his + old distorted face turn’d up, and a froth about his lips. I made a step to + save him: and then jump’d back, flattening myself against the rock. + </p> + <p> + The ledge was breaking. + </p> + <p> + I saw a seam gape at my feet. I saw it widen and spread to right and left. + I heard a ripping, rending noise—a rush of stones and earth: and, + clawing the air, with a wild screech, Master Tingcomb pitch’d backward, + head over heels, into space. + </p> + <p> + Then follow’d silence: then a horrible splash as he struck the water, far + below: then again a slipping and trickling, as more of the ledge broke + away—at first a pebble or two sliding—a dribble of earth—next, + a crash and a cloud of dust. A last stone ran loose and dropp’d. Then fell + a silence so deep I could catch the roar of the flames on the hill behind. + </p> + <p> + Standing there, my arms thrown back and fingers spread against the rock, I + saw a wave run out, widen, and lose itself on the face of the sea. Under + my feet but eight inches of the cornice remain’d. My toes stuck forward + over the gulf. + </p> + <p> + [Illustration: The ledge was breaking.] + </p> + <p> + A score of startled gulls with their cries call’d me to myself. I open’d + my eyes, that had shut in sheer giddiness. Close on my left the ledge was + broke back to the very base, cutting me off by twelve feet from that part + where the ladder still rested. No man could jump it, standing. To the + right there was no gap: but in one place only was the footing over ten + inches wide, and at the end my rope hung over the sea, a good yard away + from the edge. + </p> + <p> + I shut my eyes and shouted. + </p> + <p> + There was no answer. In the dead stillness I could hear the rafters + falling in the House of Gleys, and the shouts of the men at work. The <i>Godsend</i> + lay around the point, out of sight. And Billy, deaf as a stone, sat no + doubt by his rope, placidly waiting my signal. + </p> + <p> + I scream’d again and again. The rock flung my voice seaward. Across the + summit vaulted above, there drifted a puff of brown smoke. No one heard. + </p> + <p> + A while of weakness followed. My brain reel’d: my fingers dug into the + rock behind till they bled. I bent forward—forward over the heaving + mist through which the sea crawl’d like a snake. It beckon’d me down, that + crawling water.... + </p> + <p> + I stiffened my knees and the faintness pass’d. I must not look down again. + It flashed on me that Delia had call’d me weak: and I hardened my heart to + fight it out. I would face round to the cliff and work toward the rope. + </p> + <p> + ’Twas a hateful moment while I turned: for to do so I must let go with one + hand. And the rock thrust me outward. But at last I faced the cliff; + waited a moment while my knees shook; and moving a foot cautiously to the + left, began to work my way along, an inch at a time. + </p> + <p> + Looking down to guide my feet, I saw the waves twinkling beneath my heels. + My palms press’d the rock. At every three inches I was fain to rest my + forehead against it and gasp. Minute after minute went by—endless, + intolerable, and still the rope seem’d as far away as ever. A cold sweat + ran off me: a nausea possessed me. Once, where the ledge was widest, I + sank on one knee, and hung for a while incapable of movement. But a black + horror drove me on: and after the first dizzy stupor my wits were + mercifully wide awake. Sure, ’twas God’s miracle preserv’d them to me, who + looking at the sea and cliff and pitiless sun, had almost denied Him and + his miracles together. + </p> + <p> + All the way I kept shouting: and so, for half an hour, inch by inch, + shuffled forward, until I stood under the rope. Then I had to turn again. + </p> + <p> + The rock, tho’ still overarching, here press’d out less than before: so + that, working round on the ball of my foot, I managed pretty easily. But + how to get the rope? As I said, it hung a good yard beyond the ledge, the + noose dangling some two feet below it. With my finger tips against the + cliff, I lean’d out and clutch’d at it. I miss’d it by a foot. “Shall I + jump?” thought I, “or bide here till help comes?” + </p> + <p> + ’Twas a giddy, awful leap. But the black horror was at my heels now. In a + minute more ’twould have me; and then my fall was certain. I call’d up + Delia’s face as she had taunted me. I bent my knees, and, leaving my hold + of the rock, sprang forward—out, over the sea. + </p> + <p> + I saw it twinkle, fathoms below. My right hand touch’d—grasp’d the + rope: then my left, as I swung far out upon it. I slipp’d an inch—three + inches—then held, swaying wildly. My foot was in the noose. I heard + a shout above: and, as I dropp’d to a sitting posture, the rope began to + rise. + </p> + <p> + “Quick! Oh, Billy, pull quick!” + </p> + <p> + He could not hear; yet tugg’d like a Trojan. + </p> + <p> + “Now, here’s a time to keep a man sittin’!” he shouted, as he caught my + hand, and pull’d me full length on the turf. “Why, lad—hast seen a + ghost?” + </p> + <p> + There was no answer. The black horror had overtaken me at last. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <p> + They carried me to a shed in the great court of Gleys, and set me on + straw: and there, till far into the afternoon, I lay betwixt swooning and + trembling, while Delia bath’d my head in water from the sea, for no other + was to be had. And about four in the afternoon the horror left me, so that + I sat up and told my story pretty steadily. + </p> + <p> + “What of the house?” I ask’d, when the tale was done, and a company sent + to search the east cliff from the beach. + </p> + <p> + “All perish’d!” said Delia, and then smiling, “I am houseless as ever, + Jack.” + </p> + <p> + “And have the same good friends.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s true. But listen—for while you have lain here, Billy and I + have put our heads together. He is bound for Brest, he says, and has + agreed to take me and such poor chattels as are saved, to Brittany, where + I know my mother’s kin will have a welcome for me, until these troubles be + pass’d. Already the half of my goods is aboard the <i>Godsend</i>, and a + letter writ to Sir Bevill, begging him to appoint an honest man as my + steward. What think you of the plan?” + </p> + <p> + “It seems a good plan,” I answer’d slowly: “the England that now is, is no + place for a woman. When do you sail?” + </p> + <p> + “As soon as you are recovered, Jack.” + </p> + <p> + “Then that’s now.” I got on my feet, and drew on my boots (that Matt. + Soames had found in the laurel bushes and brought). My knees trembled a + bit, but nothing to matter. + </p> + <p> + “Art looking downcast, Jack.” + </p> + <p> + Said I: “How else should I look, that am to lose thee in an hour or more?” + </p> + <p> + She made no reply to this, but turned away to give an order to the + sailors. + </p> + <p> + The last of Delia’s furniture was hardly aboard, when we heard great + shouts of joy, and saw the men returning that had gone to search the + cliff. They bore between them three large oak coffers: which being broke, + we came on an immense deal of old plate and jewels, besides over L300 in + coined money. There were two more left behind, they said, besides several + small bags of gold. The path up the cliff was hard to climb, and would + have been impossible, but for the iron ladder they found ready fix’d for + Master Tingcomb’s descent. In the hole (that could not be seen from the + beach, the shelf hiding it) was tackle for lowering the chest: and below a + boat moor’d, and now left high and dry by the tide. Doubtless, the + arch-rascal had waited for his comrades to return, whom Matt. Soames and I + had scar’d out of all stomach to do so. His body was nowhere found. + </p> + <p> + The sea had wash’d it off: but the sack they recover’d, and found to hold + the choicest of Delia’s heirlooms. Within an hour the remaining coffers + and the money bags were safe in the vessel’s hold. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <p> + The sun was setting, as Delia and I stood on the beach, beside the boat + that was to take her from me. Aboard the <i>Godsend</i> I could hear the + anchor lifting, and the men singing, as, holding Molly’s bridle, I held + out my hand to the dear maid who with me had shar’d so many a peril. + </p> + <p> + “Is there any more to come?” she ask’d. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said I, and God knows my heart was heavy: “nothing to come but + ‘Farewell!’” + </p> + <p> + She laid her small hand in my big palm, and glancing up, said very pretty + and demur— + </p> + <p> + “<i>And shall I leave my best? Wilt not come, too, dear Jack?</i>” + </p> + <p> + “Delia!” I stammer’d. “What is this? I thought you lov’d me not.” + </p> + <p> + “And so did I, Jack: and thinking so, I found I loved thee better than + ever. Fie on thee, now! May not a maid change her mind without being + forced to such unseemly, brazen words?” And she heav’d a mock sigh. + </p> + <p> + But as I stood and held that little hand, I seem’d across the very mist of + happiness to read a sentence written, and spoke it, perforce and slow, as + with another man’s mouth— + </p> + <p> + “Delia, you only have I lov’d, and will love! Blithe would I be to live + with you, and to serve you would blithely die. In sorrow, then, call for + me, or in trust abide me. But go with you now—I may not.” + </p> + <p> + She lifted her eyes, and looking full into mine, repeated slowly the verse + we had read at our first meeting— + </p> +<div class="pre"> + “‘In a wife’s lap, as in a grave, + Man’s airy notions mix with earth—’ +—thou hast found it, sweetheart—thou has found the Splendid Spur!” + </div> + <p> + She broke off, and clapp’d her hands together very merrily; and then, as a + tear started— + </p> + <p> + “But thou’lt come for me, ere long, Jack? Else I am sure to blame some + other woman. Stay—” + </p> + <p> + She drew off her ring, and slipp’d it on my little finger. + </p> + <p> + “There’s my token! Now give me one to weep and be glad over.” + </p> + <p> + Having no trinkets, I gave my glove: and she kiss’d it twice, and put it + in her bosom. + </p> + <p> + “I have no need of this ring,” said I: “for look!” and I drew forth the + lock I had cut from her dear head, that morning among the alders by Kennet + side, and worn ever since over my heart. + </p> + <p> + “Wilt marry no man till I come?” + </p> + <p> + “Now, that’s too hard a promise,” said she, laughing, and shaking her + curls. + </p> + <p> + “Too hard!” + </p> + <p> + “Why, of course. Listen, sweetheart—a true woman will not change her + mind: but, oh! she dearly loves to be able to! So, bating this, here’s my + hand upon it—now, fie, Jack! and before all these mariners!—well, + then if thou <i>must</i>—” + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <p> + I watch’d her standing in the stern and waving, till she was under the <i>Godsend’s</i> + side: then turn’d, and mounting Molly, rode inland to the wars. + </p> + <h3> + THE END. + </h3> +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 6437 ***</div> + </body> +</html> diff --git a/6437-h/images/cover.jpg b/6437-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..fa736b8 --- /dev/null +++ b/6437-h/images/cover.jpg |
