“Tut, tut, Jem,” I said, “you shouldn’t speak like that. Any way we’ll hear the rest another time.”
“That’s what I called them, sir,” said Jem, turning to me with surprise, “you surely would not have me tell an untruth.”
“I wouldn’t have you tell anything. Keep quiet. Father Donovan is not interested in your recital.”
“I beg your pardon, O’Ruddy,” said Father Donovan, looking at me reproachfully; “but I am very much interested in this man’s narrative.”
“As any good man should be,” continued Jem, “for these were arrant scoundrels; one of them I knew, and his name is Doctor Chord. He fell off his horse on the roadway at once and pleaded for mercy. I ordered the others instantly to hold their hands above their heads, and they did so, except one man who began fumbling in his holster, and then, to show him what I could do with a pistol, I broke his wrist. At the sound of the shot the horses began to plunge, nearly trampling Doctor Chord into the dust.
“‘Clasp your hands above your heads, ye—’”
Here went on another stream of terrible language again, and in despair I sat down on the pile of saddles, allowing things to take their course. Jem continued:
“The lesson of the pistol was not misread by my gentlemen, when they noticed I had a second loaded one; so, going to them one after the other I took their weapons from them and flung them to the foot of that tree, where, if you look, you may see them now. Then I took a contribution from each one, just as you do in church, your Reverence. I’m sure you have a collection for the poor, and that was the one I was taking up this day. I have not counted them yet,” said the villain turning to me, “but I think I have between sixty and seventy guineas, which are all freely at your disposal, excepting a trifle for myself and Paddy there. There’s no plaster like gold for a sore head, your Reverence. I made each one of them dismount and take off his saddle and throw it in the pile; then I had them mount again and drove them with curses toward London, and very glad they were to escape.”
“He did not get the papers again,” wailed Paddy, who was not taking as jubilant a view of the world as was Jem at that moment.
“I knew nothing of the papers,” protested Bottles. “If you had told me about the papers, I would have had them, and if I had been carrying the papers these fellows would not have made away with them.”
“Then,” said the horrified priest, “you did not commit this action in punishment for the injury done to your friend? You knew nothing of that at the time. You set on these men thinking they were simple travellers.”
“O, I knew nothing of what happened to Paddy till later, but you see, your Reverence, these men themselves were thieves and robbers. In their case it was nine men against one poor half-witted Irish lad—”
“Half-witted yourself,” cried Paddy angrily.
“But you, sir,” continued his Reverence, “were simply carrying out the action of a highwayman. Sir, you are a highwayman.”
“I was, your Reverence, but I have reformed.”
“And this pile of saddles attests your reformation!” said the old man, shaking his head.
“But you see, your Reverence, this is the way to look at it—”
“Keep quiet, Jem!” cried I in disgust.
“How can I keep quiet,” urged Bottles, “when I am unjustly accused? I do not deny that I was once a highwayman, but Mr. O’Ruddy converted me to better ways—”
“Highways,” said Paddy, adding, with a sniff, “Half-witted!”
“Your Reverence, I had no more intention of robbing those men than you have at this moment. I didn’t know they were thieves themselves. Then what put it into my head to jump into the wood and on with a mask before you could say, Bristol town? It’s the mysterious ways of Providence, your Reverence. Even I didn’t understand it at the time, but the moment I heard Paddy’s tale I knew at once I was but an instrument in the hand of Providence, for I had not said, ‘Stand and deliver!’ this many a day, nor thought of it.”
“It may be so; it may be so,” murmured the priest, more to himself than to us; but I saw that he was much troubled, so, getting up, I said to Paddy:
“Are you able to ride farther on to-day?”
“If I’d another sup from the cup, sir, I think I could,” whereat Jem Bottles laughed again, and I gave them both a drink of wine.
“What are you going to do with all this saddlery?” said I to Bottles.
“I don’t know anything better than to leave it here; but I think, your honour, the pistols will come handy, for they’re all very good ones, and Paddy and me can carry them between us, or I can make two bags from these leather packs, and Paddy could carry the lot in them, as I do the swords.”
“Very well,” I said. “Make your preparations as quickly as you can and let us be off, for this latest incident, in spite of you, Jem, may lead to pursuit and get us into trouble before we are ready for it.”
“No fear, sir,” said Jem confidently. “One thief does not lay information against another. If they had been peaceable travellers, that would be another thing; but, as I said, Providence is protecting us, no doubt because of the presence of his Reverence here, and not for our own merits.”
“Be thankful it is the reward of some one else’s merits you, reap, Bottles, instead of your own. No more talk now, but to horse and away.”
For some miles Father Donovan rode very silently. I told him something of my meeting with Jem Bottles and explained how I tried to make an honest man of him, while this was the first lapse I had known since his conversion. I even pretended that I had some belief in his own theory of the interposition of Providence, and Father Donovan was evidently struggling to acquire a similar feeling, although he seemed to find some difficulty in the contest. He admitted that this robbery appeared but even justice; still he ventured to hope that Jem Bottles would not take the coincidence as a precedent, and that he would never mistake the dictates of Providence for the desires of his own nature.
“I will speak with the man later,” he said, “and hope that my words will make some impression upon him. There was a trace of exaltation in his recital that showed no sign of a contrite spirit.”
On account of the delay at the roadside it was well past twelve o’clock before we reached Maidstone, and there we indulged in a good dinner that put heart into all of us, while the horses had time to rest and feed. The road to Rye presented no difficulties whatever, but under ordinary conditions I would have rested a night before travelling to the coast. There would be a little delay before the Earl discovered the useless nature of the papers which he had been at such expense to acquire, but after the discovery there was no doubt in my mind that he would move upon Brede as quickly as horses could carry his men, so I insisted upon pressing on to Rye that night, and we reached the town late with horses that were very tired. It was a long distance for a man of the age of Father Donovan to travel in a day, but he stood the journey well, and enjoyed his supper and his wine with the best of us.
We learned that there was no boat leaving for France for several days, and this disquieted me, for I would have liked to see Father Donovan off early next morning, for I did not wish to disclose my project to the peace-loving man. I must march on Brede next day if I was to get there in time, and so there was no longer any possibility of concealing my designs. However, there was no help for it, and I resolved to be up bright and early in the morning and engage a dozen men whom I could trust to stand by me. I also intended to purchase several cartloads of provisions, so that if a siege was attempted we could not be starved out. All this I would accomplish at as early an hour as possible, get the carts on their way to Brede, and march at the head of the men myself; so I went to bed with a somewhat troubled mind, but fell speedily into a dreamless sleep nevertheless, and slept till broad daylight.
CHAPTER XXXII
I found Rye a snug little town, and so entirely peaceable-looking that when I went out in the morning I was afraid there would be nobody there who wou
ld join me in the hazardous task of taking possession of the place of so well-known a man as the Earl of Westport. But I did not know Rye then as well as I do now: it proved to be a great resort for smugglers when they were off duty and wished to enjoy the innocent relaxation of a town after the comparative loneliness of the sea-coast, although, if all the tales they tell me are true, the authorities sometimes made the sea-shore a little too lively for their comfort. Then there were a number of seafaring men looking for a job, and some of them had the appearance of being pirates in more prosperous days.
As I wandered about I saw a most gigantic ruffian, taking his ease with his back against the wall, looking down on the shipping.
“If that man’s as bold as he’s strong,” said I to myself, “and I had half a dozen more like him, we’d hold Brede House till the day there’s liberty in Ireland;” so I accosted him.
“The top o’ the morning to you,” said I genially.
He eyed me up and down, especially glancing at the sword by my side, and then said civilly:
“The same to you, sir. You seem to be looking for some one?”
“I am,” said I, “I’m looking for nine men.”
“If you’ll tell me their names I’ll tell you where to find them, for I know everybody in Rye.”
“If that’s the case you’ll know their names, which is more than I do myself.”
“Then you’re not acquainted with them?”
“I am not; but if you’ll tell me your name I think then I’ll know one of them.”
There was a twinkle in his eye as he said:
“They call me Tom Peel.”
“Then Tom,” said I, “are there eight like you in the town of Rye?”
“Not quite as big perhaps,” said Tom, “but there’s plenty of good men here, as the French have found out before now, — yes, and the constables as well. What do you want nine men for?”
“Because I have nine swords and nine pistols that will fit that number of courageous subjects.”
“Then it’s not for the occupation of agriculture you require them?” said Peel with the hint of a laugh. “There’s a chance of a cut in the ribs, I suppose, for swords generally meet other swords.”
“You’re right in that; but I don’t think the chance is very strong.”
“And perhaps a term in prison when the scrimmage is ended?”
“No fear of that at all at all; for if any one was to go to prison it would be me, who will be your leader, and not you, who will be my dupes, do you see?”
Peel shrugged his shoulders.
“My experience of the world is that the man with gold lace on his coat goes free, while they punish the poor devil in the leather jacket. But, turn the scheme out bad or ill, how much money is at the end of it?”
“There’ll be ten guineas at the end of it for each man, win or lose.”
“And when will the money be paid?”
“Half before you leave Rye, the other half in a week’s time, and perhaps before, — a week’s time at the latest; but I want men who will not turn white if a blunderbuss happens to go off.”
The rascallion smiled and spat contemptuously in the dust before him.
“If you show me the guineas,” said he, “I’ll show you the men.”
“Here’s five of them, to begin with, that won’t be counted against you. There’ll be five more in your pocket when we leave Rye, and a third five when the job’s ended.”
His big hand closed over the coins.
“I like your way of speaking,” he said. “Now where are we to go?”
“To the strong house of Brede, some seven or eight miles from here. I do not know how far exactly, nor in what direction.”
“I am well acquainted with it,” said Peel. “It was a famous smuggler’s place in its time.”
“I don’t mean a smuggler’s place,” said I. “I am talking of the country house of the Earl of Westport.”
“Yes, curse him, that’s the spot I mean. Many a nobleman’s house is put to purposes he learns little of, although the Earl is such a scoundrel he may well have been in with the smugglers and sold them to the government.”
“Did he sell them?”
“Somebody sold them.”
There was a scowl on Peel’s face that somehow encouraged me, although I liked the look of the ruffian from the first.
“You’re an old friend of his lordship’s, then?” said I.
“He has few friends in Rye or about Rye. If you’re going to do anything against Westport, I’ll get you a hundred men for nothing if there’s a chance of escape after the fight.”
“Nine men will do me, if they’re the right stuff. You will have good cover to sleep under, plenty to eat and drink, and then I expect you to hold Brede House against all the men the Earl of Westport can bring forward.”
“That’s an easy thing,” said Peel, his eye lighting up. “And if worse comes to the worst I know a way out of the house that’s neither through door or window nor up a chimney. Where will I collect your men?”
“Assemble them on the road to Brede, quietly, about half a mile from Rye. Which direction is Brede from here?”
“It lies to the west, between six and seven miles away as the crow flies.”
“Very well, collect your men as quickly as you can, and send word to me at the ‘Anchor.’ Tell your messenger to ask for The O’Ruddy.”
Now I turned back to the tavern sorely troubled what I would do with Father Donovan. He was such a kindly man that he would be loath to shake hands with me at the door of the inn, as he had still two or three days to stop, so I felt sure he would insist on accompanying me part of the way. I wished I could stop and see him off on his ship; but if we were to get inside of Brede’s House unopposed, we had to act at once. I found Paddy almost recovered from the assault of the day before. He had a bandage around his forehead, which, with his red hair, gave him a hideous appearance, as if the whole top of his head had been smashed. Poor Paddy was getting so used to a beating each day that I wondered wouldn’t he be lonesome when the beatings ceased and there was no enemy to follow him.
Father Donovan had not yet appeared, and the fire was just lit in the kitchen to prepare breakfast, so I took Jem and Paddy with me to the eating shop of the town, and there a sleepy-looking shop-keeper let us in, mightily resenting this early intrusion, but changed his demeanour when he understood the size of the order I was giving him, and the fact that I was going to pay good gold; for it would be a fine joke on The O’Ruddy if the Earl surrounded the house with his men and starved him out. So it was no less than three cartloads of provisions I ordered, though one of them was a cartload of drink, for I thought the company I had hired would have a continuous thirst on them, being seafaring men and smugglers, and I knew that strong, sound ale was brewed in Rye.
The business being finished, we three went back to the “Anchor,” and found an excellent breakfast and an excellent man waiting for me, the latter being Father Donovan, although slightly impatient for closer acquaintance with the former.
When breakfast was done with, I ordered the three horses saddled, and presently out in the courtyard Paddy was seated on his nag with the two sacks of pistols before him, and Jem in like manner with his two bundles of swords. The stableman held my horse, so I turned to Father Donovan and grasped him warmly by the hand.
“A safe journey across the Channel to you, Father Donovan, and a peaceful voyage from there to Rome, whichever road you take. If you write to me in the care of the landlord of this inn I’ll be sending and sending till I get your letter, and when you return I’ll be standing and watching the sea, at whatever point you land in England, if you’ll but let me know in time. And so good-bye to you, Father Donovan, and God bless you, and I humbly beseech your own blessing in return.”
The old man’s eyes grew wider and wider as I went on talking and talking and shaking him by the hand.
“What’s come over you, O’Ruddy?” he said, “and where are you going?”<
br />
“I am taking a long journey to the west and must have an early start.”
“Nonsense,” cried Father Donovan, “it’s two or three days before I can leave this shore, so I’ll accompany you a bit of the way.”
“You mustn’t think of it, Father, because you had a long day’s ride yesterday, and I want you to take care of yourself and take thought on your health.”
“Tush, I’m as fresh as a boy this morning. Landlord, see that the saddle is put on that horse I came into Rye with.”
The landlord at once rushed off and gave the order, while I stood there at my wit’s end.
“Father Donovan,” said I, “I’m in great need of haste at this moment, and we must ride fast, so I’ll just bid good-bye to you here at this comfortable spot, and you’ll sit down at your ease in that big arm-chair.”
“I’ll do nothing of the kind, O’Ruddy. What’s troubling you, man? and why are you in such a hurry this morning, when you said nothing of it yesterday?”
“Father, I said nothing of it yesterday, but sure I acted it. See how we rode on and on in spite of everything, and did the whole journey from London to Rye between breakfast and supper. Didn’t that give you a hint that I was in a hurry?”
“Well, it should have done, it should have done, O’Ruddy; still, I’ll go a bit of the way with you and not delay you.”
“But we intend to ride very fast, Father.”
“Ah, it’s an old man you’re thinking I’m getting to be. Troth, I can ride as fast as any one of the three of you, and a good deal faster than Paddy.”
At this moment the landlord came bustling in.
“Your Reverence’s horse is ready,” he said.
And so there was nothing for it but to knock the old man down, which I hadn’t the heart to do. It is curious how stubborn some people are; but Father Donovan was always set in his ways, and so, as we rode out of Rye to the west, with Paddy and Jem following us, I had simply to tell his Reverence all about it, and you should have seen the consternation on his countenance.
Complete Works of Stephen Crane Page 87
