CHAPTER XII.
HOW JOAN SAVED THE ARMY OF THE WEST; AND SAW THE FIGHT ON BRADDOCK DOWN.
But the pain of my hurt followed into my dreams. I woke with a start,and tried to sit up.
Within the kitchen all was quiet. The old savage was still stretch'd onthe floor: the cat curled upon the hearth. The girl had not stirr'd: butlooking toward the window hole, I saw night out side, and a frosty starsparkling far down in the west.
"Joan, what's the hour?"
"Sun's been down these four hours." She turned her face to look at me.
"I've no business lying here."
"Chose to come, lad: none axed thee, that _I_ knows by."
"Where's the mare? Must set me across her back, Joan, and let me rideon."
"Mare's in stable, wi' fetlocks swelled like puddens. Chose to come,lad; an' choose or no, must bide."
"'Tis for the General Hopton, at Bodmin, I am bound, Joan; and wound orno, must win there this night."
"And that's seven mile away: wi' a bullet in thy skull, and a peat quagthy burial. For _they_ went south, and thy road lieth more south thanwest."
"The troopers?"
"Aye, Jack: an' work I had this day wi' those same bloody warriors: buttake a sup at the keg, and bite this manchet of oat cake while I tellthee."
And so, having fed me, and set my bed straight, she sat on the floorbeside me (for the better hearing), and in her uncouth tongue, told howI had been saved. I cannot write her language; but the tale, in sum, wasthis:--
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' alad 'pon the hillside, for folks to see, tho' he _have_ a-got curls likea wench: an' dead or 'live, no use to wait for others to make sure.'"
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 Mollystood near to show my whereabouts: so she let me lie, and went to leadthe sorrel down to stable.
Her hand was on the bridle when she heard a _Whoop!_ up the road; andthere were half a dozen riders on the crest, and tearing down hilltoward her. Joan had nothing left but to feign coolness, and went onleading the mare down the slope.
In a while, up comes the foremost trooper, draws rein, and pants out"Where's he to?"
"Who?" asks Joan, making out to be surprised.
"Why, the lad whose mare thou'rt leadin'?"
"Mile an' half away by now."
"How's that?"
"Freshly horsed," explains Joan.
The troopers--they were all around her by this--swore 'twas a lie; butluckily, 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 tunbellied sergeant call'd "Silence!" and asked the girl, "did she loan thefellow a horse?"
Here I will quote her again:--
"'Sir, to thee,' I answer'd, 'no loan at all, but fair swap for our GreyRobin.'
"'That's a lie,' he says; 'an' I won't believe thee.'
"'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 _his'n_lookout.)"
They went, did these simple troopers, to look at the stable, and sureenough, there was no Grey Robin. Nevertheless, some amongst them hadlogic enough to take this as something less than proof convincing, andspent three hours and more ransacking the house and barn, and searchingthe tor and the moors below it. I learn'd too, that Joan had come in forsome rough talk--to which she put a stop, as she told me, by offeringto fight any man Jack of them for the buttons on his buffcoat. And atlength, about sundown, they gave up the hunt, and road away over themoors toward Warleggan, having (as the girl heard them say) to be atBraddock before night.
"Where is this Braddock?"
"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."
"Then go I must," cried I: and hereupon I broke out with all thetrouble that was on my mind, and the instant need to save these gallantgentlemen of Cornwall, ere two armies should combine against them.I told of the King's letter in my breast, and how I found the LordStamford's men at Launceston; how that Ruthen, with the vanguard of therebels, was now at Liskeard, with but a bare day's march between thetwo, and none but I to carry the warning. And "Oh, Joan!" I cried, "mycomrade I left upon the road. Brighter courage and truer heart neverman proved, and yet left by me in the rebels' hands. Alas! that I couldneither save nor help, but must still ride on: and here is the issue--tolie struck down within ten mile of my goal--I, that have traveled twohundred. And if the Cornishmen be not warned to give fight before LordStamford 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."
"Reckon, Jack, thou'd best hand _me_ thy letter."
Now, I did not at once catch the intent of these words, so simplyspoken; but stared at her like an owl.
"There's horse in stall, lad," she went on, "tho' no Grey Robin.Tearaway's the name, and strawberry the color."
"But, Joan, Joan, if you do this--feel inside my coat here, to theleft--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 ofBristol, who stole it from me for a while: but the handwriting will beknown for the King's: and no hand but yours must touch it till you standbefore Sir Ralph Hopton. The King shall thank you, Joan; and God willbless you for't."
"Hope so, I'm sure. But larn me what to say, lad: for I be main thickwitted."
So I told her the message over and over, till she had it by heart.
"Shan't forgit, now," she said, at length; "an' so hearken to me for achange. Bide still, nor fret thysel'. Here's pasty an' oat cake, an' akeg o' water that I'll stow beside thee. Pay no heed to feyther, an' ifhe wills to get drunk an' fight wi' Jan Tergagle--that's the cat--whylet'n. Drunk or sober, he's no 'count."
She hid the letter in her bosom, and stepp'd to the door. On thethreshold she turned--
"Jack--forgot to ax: what be all this bloodshed about?"
"For Church and King, Joan."
"H'm: same knowledge ha' I o' both--an' that's naught. But I dearlyloves fair play."
She was gone. In a minute or so I heard the trampling of a horse: andthen, with a scurry of hoofs, Joan was off on the King's errand, andriding into the darkness.
Little rest had I that night; but lay awake on my bracken bed andwatched 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 thehinge: out on the moor the light winds kept a noise persistent as towndogs at midnight: and all the while my wound was stabbing, and thebracken pricking me till I groaned aloud.
As day began to break, the old man picked himself up, yawned and loungedout, returning after a time with fresh turves for the hearth. He noticedme no more than a stone, but when the fire was restack'd, drew up hischair to the warmth, and breakfasted on oat cake and a liberal deal ofliquor. Observing him, the black cat uncoil'd, stretch'd himself,and climbing to his master's knee, sat there purring, and the best offriends. I also judged it time to breakfast: found my store: took abite or two, and a pull at the keg, and lay back--this time to sleep.
When I woke, 'twas high noon. The door stood open, and outside on thewall the winter sunshine was lying, very bright and clear. Indoors, theold 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 andstrain'd my ears. Surely, if Joan had not failed, the royal generalswould march out and give battle at once: and surely, if they werefighting, not ten miles away, some sound of it would reach me. Butbeyond the purring of the cat, I heard nothing.
I crawl'd to my feet, rested a moment to stay the giddiness, andtotter'd across to the door, where I lean'd, listening and gazing south.No strip of vapor lay on the moors that stret
ch'd--all bathed in themost wonderful bright colors--to the lip of the horizon. The air waslike 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 thesouth, there ran a sound that set my heart leaping.
'Twas the crackling of musketry.
There was no mistaking it. The noise ran like wildfire along the hills:before echo could overtake it, a low rumbling followed, and then thebrisker crackling again. I caught at the door post and cried, faint withthe sudden joy---
"Thou angel, Joan!--thou angel!"
And then, as something took me by the throat--"Joan, Joan--to see whatthou seest!"
A long time I lean'd by the door post there, drinking in the sound thatnow was renewed at quicker intervals. Yet, for as far as I could see,'twas the peacefullest scene, though dreary--quiet sunshine on thehills, 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.
Being both weak and loth to miss a sound of it, I sank down on thethreshold, and there lay, with my eyes turned southward, through a gapin 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.
It must have been an hour or more before I saw a number of black speckscoming over the ridge of hills, and swarming down into the plain towardme: and then a denser body following. 'Twas a company of horse, movingat a great pace: and I guessed that the battle was done, and these werethe first fugitives of the beaten army.
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 beard a bugle blown, as ifto rally the crowd: but saw nothing come of it, and presently the notesceased, or I forgot to listen.
The foremost company of horse was heading rather to the eastward ofme, to gain the high road; and the gross pass'd me by at half a mile'sdistance. But some came nearer, and to my extreme joy, I learn'd fromtheir arms and shouting, what till now I had been eagerly hoping, that'twas the rebel army thus running in rout: and tho' now without strengthto kneel, I had enough left to thank God heartily.
'Twas so curious to see the plain thus suddenly fill'd with rabble,all running from the south, and the silly startled sheep rushinghelter-skelter, and huddling together on the tors above, that I forgotmy own likely danger if any of this revengeful crew should come upon melying there: and was satisfied to watch them as they straggled over themoors toward the road. Some pass'd close to the cottage; but none seem'danxious to pause there. 'Twas a glad and a sorry sight. I saw a troop ofdragoons with a standard in their midst; and a drummer running behind,too far distracted even to cast his drum away, so that it dangledagainst his back, with a great rent where the music had been; and thentwo troopers running together; and one that was wounded lay down for awhile within a stone's throw of me, and would not go further, till atlast his comrade persuaded him; and after them a larger company, inmidst of whom was a man crying, "We are sold, I tell ye, and I can pointto the man!" and so passed by. There were some, too, that were gallopingthree 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 andleft it there, where, two days after, Sir John Berkeley's dragoons foundand pulled it out. And this was the fourth, I had heard, that the King'stroops took in that victory.
Yet there were not above five or six hundred in all that I saw; and Iguessed (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 thinkingof this when I heard footsteps near, and a man came panting through agap in the wall, into the yard.
He was a big, bareheaded fellow, exceedingly flush'd with running, butunhurt, 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 twoaway, began to draw off his boot, and search for a prickle, that itseem'd had got into it.
"'Tis a mess of it, yonder," said he, quietly, and jerk'd his thumb overhis shoulder.
By the look of me, he could tell I was on the other side; but this didnot appear to concern him.
"How has it gone?" asked I.
"Well," says he, with his nose in the boot; "we had a pretty risingground, and the Cornishmen march'd up and whipp'd us out--that'sall--and took a mort o' prisoners." He found the prickle, drew on hisboot again, and asked---
"T'other side?"
I nodded.
"That's the laughing side, this day. Good evening."
And with that he went off as fast as he came.
'Twas, may be, an hour after, that another came in through the samegap: this time a lean, hawk-eyed man, with a pinch'd face and two uglygashes--one across the brow from left eye to the roots of his hair, theother in his leg below the knee, that had sliced through boot and fleshlike a scythe-cut. His face was smear'd with blood, and he carried amusket.
"Water!" he bark'd out as he came trailing into the yard. "Give mewater--I'm a dead man!"
He was stepping over me to enter the kitchen, when he halted and said---
"Art a malignant, for certain!"
And before I had a chance to reply, his musket was swung up, and I feltmy time was come to die.
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 thepoor wretch together, tearing and clawing. I can hear their hellishoutcries to this day: but at the moment they turn'd me faint. And thenext thing I recall is being dragged inside by the old man, who shut thedoor after me and slipp'd the bolt, leaving the wounded trooper on theother side. He beat against it for some time, sobbing piteously forwater: and then I heard him groaning at intervals, till he died. Atleast, the groans ceased; and next day he was found with his backagainst the cottage wall, stark and dead.
Having pulled me inside, Joan's father must have thought he had doneenough: for on the floor I lay for hours, and passed from one swoon intoanother. He and the cat had gone back to the fire again, and long beforeevening both were sound asleep.
So there I lay helpless, till, at nightfall, there came the trampling ofa horse outside, and then a rap on the door. The old man started up andopened it: and in rushed Joan, her eyes lit up, her breast heaving, andin her hand a naked sword.
"Church and King, Jack!" she cried, and flung the blade with a clang onto the table. "Church and King! O brave day's work, lad--O bloody workthis day!"
And I swooned again.
The Splendid Spur Page 14
