CHAPTER XIII
MASTER HUCKABACK COMES IN
Mr. Reuben Huckaback, whom many good folk in Dulverton will rememberlong after my time, was my mother's uncle, being indeed her mother'sbrother. He owned the very best shop in the town, and did a finetrade in soft ware, especially when the pack-horses came safely in atChristmas-time. And we being now his only kindred (except indeed hisgranddaughter, little Ruth Huckaback, of whom no one took any heed),mother beheld it a Christian duty to keep as well as could be with him,both for love of a nice old man, and for the sake of her children. Andtruly, the Dulverton people said that he was the richest man in theirtown, and could buy up half the county armigers; 'ay, and if it came tothat, they would like to see any man, at Bampton, or at Wivelscombe,and you might say almost Taunton, who could put down golden Jacobus andCarolus against him.
Now this old gentleman--so they called him, according to his money;and I have seen many worse ones, more violent and less wealthy--he mustneeds come away that time to spend the New Year-tide with us; not thathe wanted to do it (for he hated country-life), but because my motherpressing, as mothers will do to a good bag of gold, had wrung a promisefrom him; and the only boast of his life was that never yet had hebroken his word, at least since he opened business.
Now it pleased God that Christmas-time (in spite of all the fogs) tosend safe home to Dulverton, and what was more, with their loads quitesafe, a goodly string of packhorses. Nearly half of their charge wasfor Uncle Reuben, and he knew how to make the most of it. Then havingbalanced his debits and credits, and set the writs running againstdefaulters, as behoves a good Christian at Christmas-tide, he saddledhis horse, and rode off towards Oare, with a good stout coat upon him,and leaving Ruth and his head man plenty to do, and little to eat, untilthey should see him again.
It had been settled between us that we should expect him soon after noonon the last day of December. For the Doones being lazy and fond of bed,as the manner is of dishonest folk, the surest way to escape them wasto travel before they were up and about, to-wit, in the forenoon ofthe day. But herein we reckoned without our host: for being in highfestivity, as became good Papists, the robbers were too lazy, it seems,to take the trouble of going to bed; and forth they rode on the OldYear-morning, not with any view of business, but purely in search ofmischief.
We had put off our dinner till one o'clock (which to me was a sadforegoing), and there was to be a brave supper at six of the clock, uponNew Year's-eve; and the singers to come with their lanthorns, and doit outside the parlour-window, and then have hot cup till their headsshould go round, after making away with the victuals. For although therewas nobody now in our family to be churchwarden of Oare, it was welladmitted that we were the people entitled alone to that dignity; andthough Nicholas Snowe was in office by name, he managed it only bymother's advice; and a pretty mess he made of it, so that every onelonged for a Ridd again, soon as ever I should be old enough. ThisNicholas Snowe was to come in the evening, with his three tall comelydaughters, strapping girls, and well skilled in the dairy; and thestory was all over the parish, on a stupid conceit of John Fry's, thatI should have been in love with all three, if there had been but one ofthem. These Snowes were to come, and come they did, partly because Mr.Huckaback liked to see fine young maidens, and partly because none butNicholas Snowe could smoke a pipe now all around our parts, except ofthe very high people, whom we durst never invite. And Uncle Ben, as weall knew well, was a great hand at his pipe, and would sit for hoursover it, in our warm chimney-corner, and never want to say a word,unless it were inside him; only he liked to have somebody there overagainst him smoking.
Now when I came in, before one o'clock, after seeing to the cattle--forthe day was thicker than ever, and we must keep the cattle close athome, if we wished to see any more of them--I fully expected to findUncle Ben sitting in the fireplace, lifting one cover and then another,as his favourite manner was, and making sweet mouths over them; for heloved our bacon rarely, and they had no good leeks at Dulverton andhe was a man who always would see his business done himself. But thereinstead of my finding him with his quaint dry face pulled out at me,and then shut up sharp not to be cheated--who should run out but BettyMuxworthy, and poke me with a saucepan lid.
'Get out of that now, Betty,' I said in my politest manner, for reallyBetty was now become a great domestic evil. She would have her ownway so, and of all things the most distressful was for a man to try toreason.
'Zider-press,' cried Betty again, for she thought it a fine joke to callme that, because of my size, and my hatred of it; 'here be a rare getup, anyhow.'
'A rare good dinner, you mean, Betty. Well, and I have a rare goodappetite.' With that I wanted to go and smell it, and not to stop forBetty.
'Troost thee for thiccy, Jan Ridd. But thee must keep it bit langer, Ireckon. Her baint coom, Maister Ziderpress. Whatt'e mak of that now?'
'Do you mean to say that Uncle Ben has not arrived yet, Betty?'
'Raived! I knaws nout about that, whuther a hath of noo. Only I tell 'e,her baint coom. Rackon them Dooneses hath gat 'un.'
And Betty, who hated Uncle Ben, because he never gave her a groat,and she was not allowed to dine with him, I am sorry to say thatBetty Muxworthy grinned all across, and poked me again with the greasysaucepan cover. But I misliking so to be treated, strode through thekitchen indignantly, for Betty behaved to me even now, as if I were onlyEliza.
'Oh, Johnny, Johnny,' my mother cried, running out of the grandshow-parlour, where the case of stuffed birds was, and peacock-feathers,and the white hare killed by grandfather; 'I am so glad you are come atlast. There is something sadly amiss, Johnny.'
Mother had upon her wrists something very wonderful, of the nature offal-lal as we say, and for which she had an inborn turn, being of gooddraper family, and polished above the yeomanry. Nevertheless I couldnever bear it, partly because I felt it to be out of place in our goodfarm-house, partly because I hate frippery, partly because it seemed tome to have nothing to do with father, and partly because I never couldtell the reason of my hating it. And yet the poor soul had put them on,not to show her hands off (which were above her station) but simplyfor her children's sake, because Uncle Ben had given them. But anotherthing, I never could bear for man or woman to call me, 'Johnny,''Jack,' or 'John,' I cared not which; and that was honest enough, and nosmallness of me there, I say.
'Well, mother, what is the matter, then?'
'I am sure you need not be angry, Johnny. I only hope it is nothing togrieve about, instead of being angry. You are very sweet-tempered, Iknow, John Ridd, and perhaps a little too sweet at times'--here shemeant the Snowe girls, and I hanged my head--'but what would you say ifthe people there'--she never would call them 'Doones'--'had gotten yourpoor Uncle Reuben, horse, and Sunday coat, and all?'
'Why, mother, I should be sorry for them. He would set up a shop by theriver-side, and come away with all their money.'
'That all you have to say, John! And my dinner done to a very turn, andthe supper all fit to go down, and no worry, only to eat and be donewith it! And all the new plates come from Watchett, with the Watchettblue upon them, at the risk of the lives of everybody, and the capiasfrom good Aunt Jane for stuffing a curlew with onion before he begins toget cold, and make a woodcock of him, and the way to turn the flap overin the inside of a roasting pig--'
'Well, mother dear, I am very sorry. But let us have our dinner. Youknow we promised not to wait for him after one o'clock; and you onlymake us hungry. Everything will be spoiled, mother, and what a pity tothink of! After that I will go to seek for him in the thick of the fog,like a needle in a hay-band. That is to say, unless you think'--for shelooked very grave about it--'unless you really think, mother, that Iought to go without dinner.'
'Oh no, John, I never thought that, thank God! Bless Him for mychildren's appetites; and what is Uncle Ben to them?'
So we made a very good dinner indeed, though wishing that he could havesome of it, and wondering how much to leave fo
r him; and then, as nosound of his horse had been heard, I set out with my gun to look forhim.
I followed the track on the side of the hill, from the farm-yard, wherethe sledd-marks are--for we have no wheels upon Exmoor yet, nor evershall, I suppose; though a dunder-headed man tried it last winter, andbroke his axle piteously, and was nigh to break his neck--and afterthat I went all along on the ridge of the rabbit-cleve, with the brookrunning thin in the bottom; and then down to the Lynn stream and leapedit, and so up the hill and the moor beyond. The fog hung close allaround me then, when I turned the crest of the highland, and the gorseboth before and behind me looked like a man crouching down in ambush.But still there was a good cloud of daylight, being scarce three of theclock yet, and when a lead of red deer came across, I could tell themfrom sheep even now. I was half inclined to shoot at them, for thechildren did love venison but they drooped their heads so, and lookedso faithful, that it seemed hard measure to do it. If one of them hadbolted away, no doubt I had let go at him.
After that I kept on the track, trudging very stoutly, for nigh uponthree miles, and my beard (now beginning to grow at some length) wasfull of great drops and prickly, whereat I was very proud. I had not somuch as a dog with me, and the place was unkind and lonesome, and therolling clouds very desolate; and now if a wild sheep ran across he wasscared at me as an enemy; and I for my part could not tell the meaningof the marks on him. We called all this part Gibbet-moor, not being inour parish; but though there were gibbets enough upon it, most partof the bodies was gone for the value of the chains, they said, and theteaching of young chirurgeons. But of all this I had little fear, beingno more a schoolboy now, but a youth well-acquaint with Exmoor, andthe wise art of the sign-posts, whereby a man, who barred the road, nowopens it up both ways with his finger-bones, so far as rogues allow him.My carbine was loaded and freshly primed, and I knew myself to beeven now a match in strength for any two men of the size around ourneighbourhood, except in the Glen Doone. 'Girt Jan Ridd,' I was calledalready, and folk grew feared to wrestle with me; though I was tired ofhearing about it, and often longed to be smaller. And most of all uponSundays, when I had to make way up our little church, and the maidenstittered at me.
The soft white mist came thicker around me, as the evening fell; and thepeat ricks here and there, and the furze-hucks of the summer-time, wereall out of shape in the twist of it. By-and-by, I began to doubt whereI was, or how come there, not having seen a gibbet lately; and then Iheard the draught of the wind up a hollow place with rocks to it; andfor the first time fear broke out (like cold sweat) upon me. And yet Iknew what a fool I was, to fear nothing but a sound! But when I stoppedto listen, there was no sound, more than a beating noise, and that wasall inside me. Therefore I went on again, making company of myself, andkeeping my gun quite ready.
Now when I came to an unknown place, where a stone was set up endwise,with a faint red cross upon it, and a polish from some conflict, Igathered my courage to stop and think, having sped on the way too hotly.Against that stone I set my gun, trying my spirit to leave it so,but keeping with half a hand for it; and then what to do next was thewonder. As for finding Uncle Ben that was his own business, or at anyrate his executor's; first I had to find myself, and plentifully wouldthank God to find myself at home again, for the sake of all our family.
The volumes of the mist came rolling at me (like great logs of wood,pillowed out with sleepiness), and between them there was nothing morethan waiting for the next one. Then everything went out of sight, andglad was I of the stone behind me, and view of mine own shoes. Then adistant noise went by me, as of many horses galloping, and in my frightI set my gun and said, 'God send something to shoot at.' Yet nothingcame, and my gun fell back, without my will to lower it.
But presently, while I was thinking 'What a fool I am!' arose as if frombelow my feet, so that the great stone trembled, that long, lamentinglonesome sound, as of an evil spirit not knowing what to do with it. Forthe moment I stood like a root, without either hand or foot to help me,and the hair of my head began to crawl, lifting my hat, as a snail liftshis house; and my heart like a shuttle went to and fro. But findingno harm to come of it, neither visible form approaching, I wiped myforehead, and hoped for the best, and resolved to run every step of theway, till I drew our own latch behind me.
Yet here again I was disappointed, for no sooner was I come to thecross-ways by the black pool in the hole, but I heard through the patterof my own feet a rough low sound very close in the fog, as of a hobbledsheep a-coughing. I listened, and feared, and yet listened again, thoughI wanted not to hear it. For being in haste of the homeward road, andall my heart having heels to it, loath I was to stop in the dusk for thesake of an aged wether. Yet partly my love of all animals, and partlymy fear of the farmer's disgrace, compelled me to go to the succour, andthe noise was coming nearer. A dry short wheezing sound it was, barredwith coughs and want of breath; but thus I made the meaning of it.
'Lord have mercy upon me! O Lord, upon my soul have mercy! An if Icheated Sam Hicks last week, Lord knowest how well he deserved it, andlied in every stocking's mouth--oh Lord, where be I a-going?'
These words, with many jogs between them, came to me through thedarkness, and then a long groan and a choking. I made towards the sound,as nigh as ever I could guess, and presently was met, point-blank, bythe head of a mountain-pony. Upon its back lay a man bound down, withhis feet on the neck and his head to the tail, and his arms fallingdown like stirrups. The wild little nag was scared of its life by theunaccustomed burden, and had been tossing and rolling hard, in desire toget ease of it.
Before the little horse could turn, I caught him, jaded as he was, byhis wet and grizzled forelock, and he saw that it was vain to struggle,but strove to bite me none the less, until I smote him upon the nose.
'Good and worthy sir,' I said to the man who was riding so roughly;'fear nothing; no harm shall come to thee.'
'Help, good friend, whoever thou art,' he gasped, but could not look atme, because his neck was jerked so; 'God hath sent thee, and not to robme, because it is done already.'
'What, Uncle Ben!' I cried, letting go the horse in amazement, thatthe richest man in Dulverton--'Uncle Ben here in this plight! What, Mr.Reuben Huckaback!'
'An honest hosier and draper, serge and longcloth warehouseman'--hegroaned from rib to rib--'at the sign of the Gartered Kitten in theloyal town of Dulverton. For God's sake, let me down, good fellow, fromthis accursed marrow-bone; and a groat of good money will I pay thee,safe in my house to Dulverton but take notice that the horse is mine,no less than the nag they robbed from me.'
'What, Uncle Ben, dost thou not know me, thy dutiful nephew John Ridd?'
Not to make a long story of it, I cut the thongs that bound him, andset him astride on the little horse; but he was too weak to stay so.Therefore I mounted him on my back, turning the horse into horse-steps,and leading the pony by the cords which I fastened around his nose, setout for Plover's Barrows.
Uncle Ben went fast asleep on my back, being jaded and shaken beyond hisstrength, for a man of three-score and five; and as soon he felt assuredof safety he would talk no more. And to tell the truth he snored soloudly, that I could almost believe that fearful noise in the fog everynight came all the way from Dulverton.
Now as soon as ever I brought him in, we set him up in thechimney-corner, comfortable and handsome; and it was no little delightto me to get him off my back; for, like his own fortune, Uncle Ben wasof a good round figure. He gave his long coat a shake or two, and hestamped about in the kitchen, until he was sure of his whereabouts, andthen he fell asleep again until supper should be ready.
'He shall marry Ruth,' he said by-and-by to himself, and not to me; 'heshall marry Ruth for this, and have my little savings, soon as they beworth the having. Very little as yet, very little indeed; and ever somuch gone to-day along of them rascal robbers.'
My mother made a dreadful stir, of course, about Uncle Ben being in sucha plight as this; so I left him to her
care and Annie's, and soon theyfed him rarely, while I went out to see to the comfort of the capturedpony. And in truth he was worth the catching, and served us very wellafterwards, though Uncle Ben was inclined to claim him for his businessat Dulverton, where they have carts and that like. 'But,' I said, 'youshall have him, sir, and welcome, if you will only ride him home asfirst I found you riding him.' And with that he dropped it.
A very strange old man he was, short in his manner, though long of body,glad to do the contrary things to what any one expected of him, andalways looking sharp at people, as if he feared to be cheated. Thissurprised me much at first, because it showed his ignorance of what wefarmers are--an upright race, as you may find, scarcely ever cheatingindeed, except upon market-day, and even then no more than may be helpedby reason of buyers expecting it. Now our simple ways were a puzzle tohim, as I told him very often; but he only laughed, and rubbed his mouthwith the back of his dry shining hand, and I think he shortly began tolanguish for want of some one to higgle with. I had a great mind to givehim the pony, because he thought himself cheated in that case; only hewould conclude that I did it with some view to a legacy.
Of course, the Doones, and nobody else, had robbed good Uncle Reuben;and then they grew sportive, and took his horse, an especially sobernag, and bound the master upon the wild one, for a little change as theytold him. For two or three hours they had fine enjoyment chasing himthrough the fog, and making much sport of his groanings; and thenwaxing hungry, they went their way, and left him to opportunity. NowMr. Huckaback growing able to walk in a few days' time, became thereuponimpatient, and could not be brought to understand why he should havebeen robbed at all.
'I have never deserved it,' he said to himself, not knowing much ofProvidence, except with a small p to it; 'I have never deserved it, andwill not stand it in the name of our lord the King, not I!' At othertimes he would burst forth thus: 'Three-score years and five have Ilived an honest and laborious life, yet never was I robbed before. Andnow to be robbed in my old age, to be robbed for the first time now!'
Thereupon of course we would tell him how truly thankful he ought to befor never having been robbed before, in spite of living so long in thisworld, and that he was taking a very ungrateful, not to say ungracious,view, in thus repining, and feeling aggrieved; when anyone else wouldhave knelt and thanked God for enjoying so long an immunity. But saywhat we would, it was all as one. Uncle Ben stuck fast to it, that hehad nothing to thank God for.
Lorna Doone: A Romance of Exmoor Page 14
