Jack Hardy: A Story of English Smugglers in the Days of Napoleon

by Herbert Strang

  *CHAPTER XV*

  *TAR AND FEATHERS*

  "Fust and foremost, sir," said Gumley, having lit his pipe, "my poor oldmoke is dead. Ah! he served me well for many a year, and carried tonsand tons o' garden stuff into Wynport. But now he's gone, and if so beI can do any digging and planting this spring I'll have no one to carrymy vegetables to market."

  "'Twas old age, I suppose. He looked on his last legs when I saw himfirst on the Luscombe road six months ago."

  "No, sir, 'twarn't old age. If he had been left alone he'd have livedto be as old as Methusalum. No, 'twarn't old age, nor overwork neither."

  "What was it, then?"

  Gumley hesitated. He looked at the locked door and the shutteredwindow, got up and went to the back door, bending his head forward as iflistening. Then he returned to his chair, and, between two puffs, said,under his breath--

  "'Twere p'ison, sir."

  "Poison!"

  "Ay, sir. Jerry--so I called him, sir--were sound as a ship's bell onenight, sir; next morning he were dead as mutton."

  "But how do you know 'twas poison?"

  "'Cos that very same day Comely was took bad and well-nigh went toglory, too. Where Comely goes, Gumley follers; my rheumatiz were verybad that day."

  "'Tis plain you've got enemies, Gumley. I'm sorry for you. Comelylooks all right now, at any rate. We'll see what we can do to get you anew donkey. But I mustn't waste time. I'll tell you what I've comefor. Do you know where Sandy Cove is?"

  Gumley gave a start, and looked round the room again with that uneasyglance which had attracted Jack's attention before.

  "Axing your pardon, sir, would ye say why and wherefore you want to knowthat?"

  "I don't think I can--at all events, not yet. But I'll tell you onething. I'm on the king's business, and that will be enough for an oldking's man, eh, Gumley?"

  "True, sir, God save the king! All the same, I'd rather ye axed yourquestion of some one else."

  "There is no one else. Come, Gumley, out with it. What is themystery?"

  Gumley still hesitated. He scratched his poll, rubbed the dog's head,stirred an imaginary fire with his wooden leg, and once more glanceduneasily at the window.

  "This won't do," said Jack. "Joe Gumley, I call upon you, in the king'sname, to answer this question at once. Where is Sandy Cove?"

  "If you puts it like that, sir, as a king's man--leastways, I was aforeI got this plaguy leg--I'm bound to make a clean breast of it. SandyCove is the name what the smugglers give to that there little chine justbelow Mr. Gudgeon's farm."

  "Ah! And how came you to know that?"

  "Well, sir, if truth must be told, in the king's name, I were a smugglermyself once, afore I became a king's man."

  "I see! And the smugglers are down on you, are they, because you won'tjoin 'em again?"

  "How can I, sir? Once a king's man, always a king's man--to say nothingof the wooden leg. I served his Majesty for many a year, sir, and Ibean't a-going to turn agen him. Not but what 'tis main hard, forsmuggling's an uncommon fine trade--if so be I can make bold to speakfree afore a king's officer."

  "I won't peach," said Jack, laughing. "Speak freely? Of course youcan. And you'd better tell me all about it now. You look as uneasy asif you were sitting on pins."

  "So I be, sir, and that's the truth. No longer ago than last Wednesday,Mr. Goodman he chanced to come upon a string of carts carrying smuggledgoods from Luscombe to Wickham Ferrers. He nabbed the whole lot, sir,horses and all. And my old mates got the notion into their noddles that'twas me as blabbed--me, sir, what knowed no more about it than thatthere innocent dog. But they believe it; and there 'tis. They sworethey'd make me smart for it, and I dursn't stir out o' my door for fearI get a good crack on the nob or something just as awk'ard."

  "I don't understand why they're so down on you. You keep yourself toyourself, as you told me. Why should they think 'twas you split onthem?"

  "I make it out this way, sir. I'm a' old smuggler, and know all thesecrets o' the trade. I'm a' old king's man, too. They don't square.I won't jine my old mates, and they, being a bit wooden-headed, thinksI'm agen 'em. I bean't agen 'em, only I bean't for 'em. I can't goagen the king, nor I can't go back on my old mates; but bless your soul,_they_ don't see what I mean when I says I keep myself to myself."

  "Well, you can't run with the hare and hunt with the hounds. But what'sthat?"

  He sprang up from his chair and went toward the shuttered window.Comely went to the door, growling. From without, muffled by thedistance, came the tramp of heavy feet along the road, mingled with thehum of voices.

  "'Tis come, sir," sighed Gumley, leaning back in his chair resignedly."Here they be at last. I knowed this would be the end of it. They saidthey'd tar and feather me, and they be come to do it."

  "Two can play at that game, Gumley. I'd sooner not be recognized now,but I'll not leave you to deal with 'em single-handed."

  "I take it very kind o' you, sir, but there's no call for you to bemixed up in it. If they mean to get in, in they'll get, sure enough;and ye'll only land yourself in a nasty rumpus, and do no good. Thankye kindly. I'll let ye out by the back door afore they come, and me andComely'll do what we can, for chok' it all, it bean't in human nature tobe tarred and feathered without a bit of a scrimmage."

  "No, no. If you're going to make a fight of it, I'll lend a hand.We're well armed. You've your blunderbuss and a cutlass; I've twopistols and a dirk; and our good friend Comely here has excellent teeth,I'll be bound."

  At this moment a loud shout was heard from the road, followed by aninsistent knocking on the gate. Gumley stumped up the rickety stairs tothe floor above, threw open the windows looking on the garden, andshouted:

  "Who be you, and what do 'ee want?"

  "We want you, Joe Gumley," came the hoarse answer, "and we're gwine tohave 'ee, too."

  "I bean't deaf, Tom Berry, so ye needn't bust your fog-horn. What do'ee want wi' me?"

  "We'll show 'ee. You bin peaching, you dirty mean sneaker. Come downalong, and we'll give 'ee a fair trial afore the men as used to be yourmates."

  "No, thank 'ee, Tom. Whoever says I bin peaching says a lie, and as fortrial, why, I bean't a fool, I bean't. If I wants trying I'll go aforea justice o' the peace like Squire Bastable, or a judge and jury at the'sizes, and not afore Tom Berry or Bill Widdicombe or any othermumble-chopped chaw-bacon. See then, I don't want to use hard words toold ship-mates o' mine, but--"

  Jack heard no more, for Gumley's words were drowned by a volley ofshouts and curses from the men below. He let down the window with abang.

  "They be coming over, sir," he called to Jack. "'Tis all hands to repelboarders. They're mounting on balks of wood to 'scape the nails. Nowthey're over. And they be split into two parties, half a dozen each;and one's coming straight for the front door; t'other's gone round tothe back. I be coming, sir, I be coming."

  By the time he reached Jack's side the men had begun to battersimultaneously at both the doors with the balks of wood which, knowingGumley, they had brought with them, evidently anticipating resistance.The men at the front door were protected by a narrow porch; those at theback were fully exposed; and Jack saw that unless something were done atonce to check them they would soon be able to break a way in, for thedoors were not very substantial pieces of timber, and could not longstand the heavy battering to which they were now being subjected.

  He stood with Gumley and the dog at the front door.

  "What's your blunderbuss loaded with, Gumley?" he said.

  "Small shot, sir."

  "Then I tell you what we'll do. I'll fling the door open; you fire attheir legs; then we'll all three charge 'em. We've only half a dozen todeal with; the men at the back will stop work when they hear the row.They'll come rushing round. Be ready to get back and haul the dog off.I'll keep my pistols in reserve; the less firing the better; we don'twant all Luscombe here.
Lend me a muffler, quick!"

  He pulled the brim of his hat down over his face, turned up the collarof his cloak, and wrapped the muffler Gumley gave him closely round hischin. All the time the men were hammering at the door, and Comely wasmoving restlessly about, uttering deep growls.

  "Standby, Gumley!"

  Jack quickly slipped the bolts, threw the door open, and dodged back.There was a blinding flash, a roar, and yells of pain and rage from thesmugglers, who, crouching in the porch around their battering-ram,received the crammed charge of the blunderbuss about their legs. Theydropped the timber, and gave back a little. Before they had recoveredfrom their surprise, the bulldog, snarling with fury, was among them,and behind him came Jack and Gumley, who laid about them doughtily withcutlass and dirk--using, however, the flat, for neither wished to do anyserious hurt unless they were hard-pressed.

  Amazement was now turned to confusion and fright. The intruders had nothought but to hobble out of the way of these furious combatants. But asthey pushed one another toward the garden they were met by theircomrades from the rear, whom the shout and the cries had interrupted, asJack expected. Their arrival only doubled the confusion. Amid thebabel of shouts they could hear nothing of what had happened. Some ofthe men were still yelling under the blows of the dirk and cutlass; andwhen one howled "Ho! Hi! Help! The dog's got me!" they were seizedwith uncontrollable panic; and with one consent bolted down the gardenand scrambled over the fence, with no small damage to their nethergarments from the nails, never pausing until they perceived that nopursuit was attempted.

  One man, however, was left on the field. In the entrance to the porchlay a big fellow groaning. Comely held him fast by the leg. Gumleyhastened to him and tried to release him from the dog's teeth, but,finding that impossible, he dragged dog and man bodily into the cottage,slammed the door, and bolted it. Jack was already inside.

  "Let go, Comely, old boy," said his master, stooping to release the man,who, half dead with fright, lay groaning where Gumley had dropped him."Why, what are ye bellowing like a sea-serpent for?" he added. "Histeeth never went further than your leggings! Who be ye for achicken-hearted--why, dash my buttons, 'tis Bill Gudgeon! Oh, Billy,what a' example to set your good feyther! Oh, my goodness, won't he betook bad with the flutters when he hears this! Ahoy, Mr.----! Avastthere, Joe Gumley, blowed if you wasn't just a-going to put your foot init. Billy, my son, you come along o' me."

  He hauled the trembling youth into the kitchen, and pushed him into achair, where he sat immovable, in mortal terror of the bulldog, whichstood by, fixing him with his thirsty eyes.

  Meanwhile Jack had gone to the upper window to see what had become ofthe enemy. They were out of sight, but when he opened the window heguessed by their voices that they were in conference just beyond thefence.

  "Ay, and more'n Gumley!"

  In the still air of the frosty March evening the hoarse whisper cameclearly to Jack's ears:

  "In course; there was his dog."

  "I knows that. But I seed another man, all in black, with his hat overhis eyes and his face all swaddled up: Goodman hisself, maybe."

  "Well, I be gwine home along. I've got a score o' pellets somewhereabout my legs, and they'll p'ison my blood less I pick 'em out soon."

  "Ay true, and we'll go lame for a month or more. Chok' it all! Who'dha' thowt old Joe would ha' bin so fierce!"

  As they were moving away, a gig rattled up and stopped.

  "'Tis Mr. Gudgeon, so 'tis," Jack heard a rough voice say.

  "Not so loud!" was the hasty answer. "What luck, lads?"

  "None at all, and be hanged to it. We've not got nowt but a trouncing,Mr. Gudgeon."

  "Lower, speak lower, man. What happened?"

  "Blunderbuss and cutlass and dog's teeth; that's what happened, Mr.Gudgeon, as your boy Bill could tell 'ee. Why, where be the lad?"

  "Been and creeped home along, by the look o't," said another man. "Hebean't here. There's blood for 'ee! There's spirit! What abold-hearted first-born you have got, to be sure, Mr. Gudgeon!"

  "Hush, man! Here, come along. I can take four or five of 'ee in thegig, and you can tell me the whole story as we go."

  The gig rattled away; the men for whom there was not room shambledafter; and Jack smiled as he returned to the kitchen.

  "There, Comely, watch him!" Gumley was saying. "I be gwine to lookaround the garden, sir, to make sure none on 'em be left."

  Jack made no reply, but stood at the door while Gumley stumped round theinclosure. He came back by and by grinning.

  "They be all gone, sir, all but this." He held up a pail out of whichthe handle of a brush was sticking, and a bundle of feathers. "'Twas bythe back door, sir."

  "Ah! I've a notion. Shut the door and come along, Gumley."

  Keeping his feathers well covered, and deepening his voice to the lowestpitch possible, Jack addressed the prisoner, who sat in shiveringstillness, his eyes fixed on the vigilant dog.

  "Now, Bill Gudgeon, you shall choose. Spend the night with the dog, andgo before Squire Bastable to-morrow; or use this brush you came touse--on yourself. 'Twould be a pity to waste such excellent tar."

  "And the feathers be uncommon soft," added Gumley.

  The victim lifted his eyes for one moment, but said never a word.

  "Come, come, make up your mind. The dog--or the tar brush."

  Still the lad hesitated. Fright seemed to have tied his tongue.

  "Very well, the dog, then. If he goes for you in the night you'd bettersing out."

  "Watch him, Comely!"

  The dog acknowledged the order with a growl of satisfaction, and Jackand Gumley moved toward the door.

  "Stop, measter! Stop, Joe Gumley!" cried the unhappy youth, finding hisvoice at last. "Not the dog! For gracious goodness' sake, not thedog."

  "Off with your coat then," said Jack, finding some difficulty in keepinghis voice at the proper profundity.

  "Ay, or your good feyther'll have the flutters worse'n ever," saidGumley. "Such a good coat, too good to spoil."

  Bill Gudgeon removed his coat, always eying the dog, which stoodwatching with intelligent appreciation. Then Gumley handed him thebrush.

  "A little on the nose to begin with," said Jack.

  Forthwith Bill's nose was black.

  "Now the cheeks; no--a little more, if you please--yes, that's right.Now a dab across the forehead: don't spare the tar, there's plenty morein the pail--yes, that's capital! Now a few feathers, Gumley."

  The trembling lad stuck the feathers, as they were handed to him, on theglistening tar. He groaned once, but Comely's echoing growl silencedhim and made him hurry.

  "Now I think he'll do," said Jack at last.

  "Beautiful, sir! Whoever seed a better job this side of the line?"

  "Listen, Bill Gudgeon! You'll tell your father that if Mr. Gumley ismolested again, you and your mates will be hauled up before SquireBastable and sent to cool your heels in the lock-up. You can go!"

  Bill took his coat, rose from the chair, and sidled to the door, hiseyes never leaving the dog. He was gone!

  Jack sat down and laughed quietly.

  "I think he's had enough, Gumley. Now I must go. I'll see you againsoon."