CHAPTER IV
OUR JOURNEY COMMENCES
I have already said that the river was the boundary of the Hanyards onthe side towards the village. About a hundred yards above the pocket ofdeep water where the jack had lain, I had built a little covered dock, andhere I kept a craft, half boat and half punt, which I used for my fishing,and in which mother and Kate could lie on cushions while I rowed them onthe river on warm summer nights. It was heavy and ungainly, but verycomfortable, and as safe as the ark.
Joe received the information that he was to row to Stafford as cheerfullyas an invitation to a jug of beer, and went off whistling to get the boatready.
Everything that care could suggest was done for Mistress Waynflete'scomfort. Jane carried down to the boat two huge stone beer bottles, filledwith boiling water. Mother insisted on madam taking her thick hoodedcloak, shaped like a fashionable domino, and covering her from head toankles. Kate slipped into my pocket a pint flask of her extra specialconcoction of peppermint cordial, the best possible companion on a nightlike this. Jane came back and returned again laden with rugs and cushions,and soon reported that the boat was ready.
Mother and Kate, with Jane behind them, came to the garden gate to bid usfarewell. Little was said, for Mistress Waynflete was too moved by theirkindness to say much, and I was too preoccupied. Madam kissed them all inturn and murmured a good-bye. I kissed mother and Kate, and they wished mea good voyage and a safe return. We turned our faces riverward and started.
It was now nearly eight o'clock. The night was pitch-dark, the skystar-studded and moonless. It was freezing hard, the keen air stung ourfaces, the tiniest twig was finger-thick with hoar-frost, and the grasscrunched under our feet at every step. I went ahead as guide, and in fiveminutes we arrived at the dock, where Joe, the boat out, cushioned andtrim for the voyage, was vigorously slapping his hands crosswise round hiswaist to keep them warm. He held the boat up to the bank, I stepped in,handed in Mistress Waynflete, bestowed her with all possible comfort,settled by her side, and took the ropes. Then Joe, clambering in, pushedoff and the voyage began.
It was up-stream, but fortunately the current was gentle, though therewas a fair amount of water coming down. There was, or rather would havebeen on an ordinary night, no danger of discovery, since the river washalf a mile from the main road at our starting-place, and ran stillfarther away from it for nearly two miles. Then came the one possibledanger-spot on such a night as this, with the road occupied by troops onthe march. A long bend in the river took it so close to the road that theyard of a wayside inn ran right down to the water. If we got safely pastthis, all danger would be over till we ran sheer up to the ruined wall ofthe town. The moon would not rise for two hours, so there was ample timefor our row of about five miles.
"I trust you are comfortable, madam?" I said.
"Comfortable and warm and cosy," she replied. "But for my fears for myfather I should even be happy, for it has never before been my lot, and Ihave wandered far and wide over half Europe, to experience such and somuch kindness in one day from perfect strangers."
"I am, indeed, happy in my mother and sister. They are pearls of greatprice."
"None better in all Staffordsheer," said Joe.
"You have rendered me a greater service than you know of, and I must notlet you leave yourself out." To hide a note of wistfulness in her voice,she added mischievously, "Must I, Joe?"
"Yow could find wus'n' Wheatman o' th' 'Anyards," said Joe, with sturdyprecision of praise.
"Is he really a hell-hound, Joe, when he's got a sup of beer in him? I'veno clear notion what a hell-hound is, but clearly it means something asbad, say, as a janissary--the worst animal I ever came across."
"Sup o' beer in 'im," snorted Joe contemptuously. "He dunna really knowwhat beer is, my lady. It's a grand thing is beer, if y'll only tak'enough of it to do y' good, but there's no vartue in half a pint of it.I've told 'im that lots of times. But it's God's truth, my lady, 'e dunnawant no beer, dunna Master Noll, to mak 'im 'it like the kick of a 'oss. Ion'y brought 'im a few daceys up t'ouse this mawnin', an'--"
"You row harder, Joe, and yawp less," said I, interrupting him. "Betweenyou and Jane I shan't have a rag of character left."
"Sup o' beer in him," he growled, and spat loudly on his hands. Joelooked at all men as potential customers of the "Bull and Mouth," andjudged them accordingly.
"I know the worst about you now, Master Wheatman, and by way of providingyou with a less embarrassing topic of conversation, you might tell me whatwe shall do when we get to Stafford."
"We are going to Marry-me-quick's."
She started so abruptly that I laughed outright, and Joe rumbled like anoverloaded wagon. I explained.
"We shall approach the town on the south side where the wall comes downto the river. 'Marry-me-quick' is not, as you seem to suppose, adisagreeable process, but an agreeable old woman who lives in a cottagewhich backs on to the river. Every schoolboy in the town knows her by thatname, which is also the name of a kind of toffee she makes, and by thesale of which she earns a modest living. I cannot tell you how the nameoriginated, but there it is. I went to the grammar school in the town, andin my time I must have bought and consumed some hundredweights of her'marry-me-quick.' In her tiny cottage you may rest in safety while I huntup Jack Dobson and learn what has been done with your father."
"An' if I'd got a shilling," said the irrepressible Joe, "for every patof butter I've taken owd Marry-me-quick, I'd--I'd--"
He seemed lost for words, so I assisted him, and paid him back at thesame time, by saying, "Pluck up courage enough to speak to Jane."
"That's rate, Master Noll."
"Is Jane so very fond of money, Joe?" asked Mistress Waynflete curiously.
"No," said Joe. "She ain't grasping, ain't Jin. She told me t'nate, shec'd 'ave 'ad a mint of money if she'd liked, but she wouldna tak' it. Saidit would 'a' burnt 'er fingers. 'More fool yow,' says I; 'it'd 'a' soongotten cowd weather like this'n.' But Jin's all rate. Er'll never bre'k'er arm at church door, wunna Jin."
I explained to Mistress Waynflete that a woman who broke her arm at thechurch door was a housewifely maiden who became a slatternly housewifeafter marriage. "There's no fear of Jane doing that," she replied; "she'sas good as the guineas she would not take."
For a space silence fell on us. All my attention was required to keep theboat clear of the banks, for the little river turned and twisted throughits meadows like a hunted hare. There was only the starlight to steer by,but I had fished every yard of the river, and knew it so well that I gaveJoe a clear channel to row in. Not a sound jarred on the rhythmic purr ofthe oars in the rowlocks and the gentle lapping of the stream against thebow. This day had God been very good to me. This was life as I would haveit; work to do for brain and brawn, and a woman to do it for who was worththe uttermost that was in me. Romance had flushed the drab night of mylife with a rosy dawn, and my heart was lifted up within me. If it fadedaway, there would at least be the memory of it. But it might not fade. Iwas under no illusions as to the stiffness of my task. I was matchedagainst the powers that be, against my Lord Brocton, whose ability to workthis maiden ill was increased a thousandfold by his military authority. Isaw my way into Stafford, and I saw no more, not even my way out of it,and least of all my way out of it with the Colonel rescued and restored tohis daughter. Mistress Waynflete had been so determined in her decision tofollow her father that perhaps she had some plan in mind. She said nothingif she had, and if she had, it would, I supposed, depend on her woman'spower of influencing Brocton. The future was as black as the outlook alongthe river, but I faced it eagerly.
She broke the silence: "The last boat I was in was a gondola. It was on aperfect night in a Venetian June, the sky a sapphire sprinkled withdiamonds, the warm, scent-laden air filled with murmurings and snatches ofsong. And there was no danger."
"Romance, perchance," said I.
"You cannot have a one-sided romance. Romance is an atmosphere breathedby two,
not an emotion felt by one. To be sure, he was the mostappallingly in earnest lover woman ever had. He wept for a kiss with hisfingers twiddling on the hilt of his stiletto. Dear heart, these Italians!"
"I should like to meet his countship," said I energetically.
"Yes, he was a count, with a pedigree as long as the Rialto, and he hadnot two silver piastres to rub against each other. He was the handsomestman I have even seen. Fortunately, we left Venice before he had quitedecided that it was time to dig his knife into me."
"You speak lightly of your danger, madam," I said coldly.
"A hot-blooded Italian with a stiletto in his hand is a much moredesirable creature, let me tell you, than a cold-blooded Englishman withthe devil in his heart. That fiery little count, conceited andpoverty-stricken, did at any rate pay me the compliment of thinking for atleast a fortnight that I was a patch of heaven fallen in his way, whereasto your cold-livered English lord I am no more than an appetizing dish."
She was not speaking lightly now, but with cold, concentrated anger. Iremembered the reticencies of her statement at the Hanyards, and began tosee dimly some of the connecting links in her story. My Lord Brocton'scharacter was well enough known to be the subject of common talk at ourmarket ordinaries. My very manhood shamed me in the presence of thisqueenly woman, marked down by a titled blackguard as his quarry, and I satstill, fists tightly clenched on the tiller-ropes, and said nothing,waiting for her to speak again.
"I have seen to-day, Master Wheatman," she said, "a sight I have neverseen before--a beautiful English maiden growing up to womanhood in thecalm and safety of an English country home. You will be tempted, I know,to envy me my wanderings, my experiences, my freedom, but, believe me, Iwould rather be your sweet Kate in the quiet of the Hanyards."
"It isn't as quiet as it might be when Jack's about," said I, seeking tochange the current of her thoughts. Then I had to tell her all about Jack,and our boyish escapades and fightings and friendings, and because I hadearlier in the day though evil of dear Jack, I now could say nothing goodenough about him.
It was time to relieve Joe at the oars. At first he would not agree, for,he said, he'd been "lagging a bit during the day 'long o' them squaddies,"and wanted to put in a day's work.
"You will, before you've done, Joe, for you've got to pull the boat back.So have a swig of beer and we'll change over. And madam shall acknowledgethe virtues of our Kate's peppermint cordial."
Joe shipped his oars and reached out for his bottle of beer. I got outthe flask and said in a sing-song voice: "Take two gallons of the bestHollands money can buy, and add thereto, first, four pounds of choiceBarbados sugar, and, secondly, two bushels of freshly gathered leaves ofthe plant peppermint. Steep together for a whole moon, stirring theconcoction every four hours during the daytime, and as often as you wakeo' nights. Strain through a piece of linen, if you've got one; if not, dowhat our Kate did this year, use a fair maiden's silk stocking. The resultis a drink fit for the gods, and, indeed, one which may even be offered togoddesses. Drink, madam!"
She was laughing merrily before I had finished. "Kate's stocking soundsthe most innocent ingredient in it, Master Wheatman, but I must try herskill in brewing."
She did so, and pronounced it excellent but strong. I tried it too,rather more copiously, I confess. Indeed, it was good, but to me, I know,the charm of the cordial this time lay in the thought of the rich red lipsthat had touched the flask before mine.
Joe and I then changed places, and I kept hard at the oars until we cameto the reach which ran close up to the "Why Not." Here Joe resumed theoars and I the ropes.
"This is the only danger-spot," I said. "Yonder are the lights of theale-house. On an ordinary night there would be no one about, even if itmattered if there were, but to-night, when it does matter, there arethousands of soldiers on the march, and there is some risk of our beingobserved."
In another five minutes or so we heard faint snatches of song and burstsof applause, and shouting and laughing. The "Why Not" was now about ahundred yards ahead on our left. On the right the bank was lined withwillows which, not having been pollarded for many years, stretched theirlong, thin branches well over the river. I ran the boat as far under themas I could. Joe pulled with short, soft strokes, and we crept slowlyalong. For a minute the lighted windows were obscured by the outhouses,and just as I caught sight of them again, a door was flung open, and thejumble of noises swelled into a roar of jeering laughter. A young womanflew out, heedlessly and noisily as a flustered hen, and a burly soldierlurched after her down the yard. At a whisper, Joe shipped his oars, and Iran the boat right into the bank. I grabbed in the dark for a hold-to, andluckily seized the roots of a willow. At his end Joe did the same. Wehardly dared to breathe as we watched the doings on the other bank.
Lust, of blood or worse, and the fear of it, were there. The lightedwindows and the open door made every movement of the man and the girlclearly visible. No one followed them. It was so ordinary an event to thecompany, perhaps that it was not worth while leaving mirth and beer to seethe issue. But all serious elements in their affair changed abruptly andto our instant jeopardy. On the very edge of the water the girl, knowingher whereabouts to an inch, turned cleverly. The man, a strangerobviously, ran on and pitched clean and far into the river, while she,laughing and triumphant, scuttled back to the house. Her tale brought outat once a spurt of men, yelling with joy, to watch the fun. Some of themhad snatched up lanterns and lighted candles, and they were followed laterby a fresh, older, shrieking woman who carried a huge, burning brandplucked from the hearth.
Happily for us the river was shallow, for a couple of strokes would havebrought the man clean into us. The shock of the icy water sobered him. Hesplashed and spluttered to his feet, climbed up the bank like a giantwater-rat, and would have slunk towards the house; but the rabble were onhim before he had taken a dozen paces, and tormented him till he roaredlike a wounded bull. The woman with the brand cried out on him with vilewords that made my face burn in the dark, and belaboured him about thehead with her blazing cudgel. At every blow a shower of sparks flew outthat drove his rollicking mates into a ring around them at a safe distanceaway. The man must have been set afire had he not been soused in the riverbeforehand. None of his fellows tried to help him, just as before none hadtried to hinder him. It was his look out either way, and they enjoyed hisdiscomfiture with all the gusto of children. At last the breathless womanand the cowed man came to a parley, the result of which was that, with awhoop of "pots round," they all crowded back into the ale-house, and wewere once more alone on the river.
"The ordeal by water and by fire," I said. "Push out, Joe."
"Gom! Owd Bess give 'im sock," he replied, and levered the nose of theboat into midstream again.
Although there was no real need for it, the escape kept us all quiet. Ipersuaded Mistress Waynflete to lie down, so as to avoid the biting windthat was sweeping across the river, and Joe and I by turns made suchprogress that in less than an hour we drew up to the town meadow.
The greatest caution was now necessary, since we saw that the bridgeleading into the town was thronged with people, many carrying lanterns ortorches. The town wall ran parallel to the river, on our right, with anarrow fringe of meadow between them. Here the wall was for the most parttumbled into ruins, and in the gaps stood little cottages, built in partof the stones that had once formed the wall. In one of these lived littleold Marry-me-quick, Mistress Martha Tonks, to give her her christeningname, and we ran up to the bank level with her place without beingobserved from the bridge, although it was only a few boat-lengths distant.
I stepped cautiously out and tiptoed to her back window. There theancient maiden was, busily engaged in the manufacture of her staple, nodoubt in anticipation of a greater demand for it in these stirring days,when much extra money would be passing around in the town, and manypennies thereof would dribble into the pockets of the youngsters. I liftedthe latch and stepped in. She squeaked with affright till she saw who itwas
, and then turned her note into a gurgle of astonishment.
"Are you alone?" I asked. She nodded. "Just a minute then, and I'll beback again, with a visitor. Keep quiet!"
I returned to the boat, and as I was obliged to move as stealthily as acat, I could not help, as I approached, hearing Joe say emphatically, "Iwunna." I cursed him silent, without troubling to ask what he wasobjecting to, and handed Mistress Waynflete out.
"Now, Joe," I whispered, "off you go back! The moon will be up in a fewminutes, and you ought to do it in an hour. You can sit in the kitchen allto-morrow to make up for this."
"Jin said 'er'd sit up for me," he said, and I was glad he had such agood motive to keep him up to his hard task.
"Good-bye, Joe," said Mistress Waynflete, shaking the good fellow warmlyby the hand. "Give my loving remembrances to your mistresses and to Jane.Say how grateful I am."
"Good-bye, my lady," he said simply, "and God bless you." So that only Icould hear him, he added, "Tak' good keer on 'er, Master Noll. Jin's awfulsot on 'er, and wunna luk at me if any 'arm 'appens 'er."
I gripped his hard hand, gave him my parting message home, and thencrouched and pushed the boat into and down the stream. As I lifted my handfrom her and she glided into the blackness, I felt in my heart that thelast link with the old life was broken. Then, as I rose to my feet, a handwas placed on my arm, and I tingled in every fibre at this sweet link withthe new life.
The Yeoman Adventurer Page 4
