Lorna Doone: A Romance of Exmoor

by R. D. Blackmore

  CHAPTER XXXI

  JOHN FRY'S ERRAND

  We kept up the dance very late that night, mother being in suchwonderful spirits, that she would not hear of our going to bed: whileshe glanced from young Squire Marwood, very deep in his talk with ourAnnie, to me and Ruth Huckaback who were beginning to be very pleasantcompany. Alas, poor mother, so proud as she was, how little she dreamedthat her good schemes already were hopelessly going awry!

  Being forced to be up before daylight next day, in order to begin rightearly, I would not go to my bedroom that night for fear of disturbing mymother, but determined to sleep in the tallat awhile, that place beingcool, and airy, and refreshing with the smell of sweet hay. Moreover,after my dwelling in town, where I had felt like a horse on a lime-kiln,I could not for a length of time have enough of country life. The mooingof a calf was music, and the chuckle of a fowl was wit, and the snore ofthe horses was news to me.

  'Wult have thee own wai, I reckon,' said Betty, being cross withsleepiness, for she had washed up everything; 'slape in hog-pound, ifthee laikes, Jan.'

  Letting her have the last word of it (as is the due of women) I stood inthe court, and wondered awhile at the glory of the harvest moon, and theyellow world it shone upon. Then I saw, as sure as ever I was standingthere in the shadow of the stable, I saw a short wide figure glideacross the foot of the courtyard, between me and the six-barred gate.Instead of running after it, as I should have done, I began to considerwho it could be, and what on earth was doing there, when all our peoplewere in bed, and the reapers gone home, or to the linhay close againstthe wheatfield.

  Having made up my mind at last, that it could be none of ourpeople--though not a dog was barking--and also that it must have beeneither a girl or a woman, I ran down with all speed to learn what mightbe the meaning of it. But I came too late to learn, through my ownhesitation, for this was the lower end of the courtyard, not theapproach from the parish highway, but the end of the sledd-way, acrossthe fields where the brook goes down to the Lynn stream, and whereSquire Faggus had saved the old drake. And of course the dry channelof the brook, being scarcely any water now, afforded plenty of place tohide, leading also to a little coppice, beyond our cabbage-garden, andso further on to the parish highway.

  I saw at once that it was vain to make any pursuit by moonlight; andresolving to hold my own counsel about it (though puzzled not alittle) and to keep watch there another night, back I returned to thetallatt-ladder, and slept without leaving off till morning.

  Now many people may wish to know, as indeed I myself did very greatly,what had brought Master Huckaback over from Dulverton, at that time ofyear, when the clothing business was most active on account of harvestwages, and when the new wheat was beginning to sample from the earlyparts up the country (for he meddled as well in corn-dealing) and whenwe could not attend to him properly by reason of our occupation. Andyet more surprising it seemed to me that he should have brought hisgranddaughter also, instead of the troop of dragoons, without whichhe had vowed he would never come here again. And how he had managed toenter the house together with his granddaughter, and be sitting quite athome in the parlour there, without any knowledge or even suspicion onmy part. That last question was easily solved, for mother herself hadadmitted them by means of the little passage, during a chorus of theharvest-song which might have drowned an earthquake: but as for hismeaning and motive, and apparent neglect of his business, none buthimself could interpret them; and as he did not see fit to do so, wecould not be rude enough to inquire.

  He seemed in no hurry to take his departure, though his visit was soinconvenient to us, as himself indeed must have noticed: and presentlyLizzie, who was the sharpest among us, said in my hearing that shebelieved he had purposely timed his visit so that he might have libertyto pursue his own object, whatsoever it were, without interruptionfrom us. Mother gazed hard upon Lizzie at this, having formed a verydifferent opinion but Annie and myself agreed that it was worth lookinginto.

  Now how could we look into it, without watching Uncle Reuben, wheneverhe went abroad, and trying to catch him in his speech, when he wastaking his ease at night. For, in spite of all the disgust with whichhe had spoken of harvest wassailing, there was not a man coming intoour kitchen who liked it better than he did; only in a quiet way, andwithout too many witnesses. Now to endeavour to get at the purpose ofany guest, even a treacherous one (which we had no right to think UncleReuben) by means of observing him in his cups, is a thing which even thelowest of people would regard with abhorrence. And to my mind it was notclear whether it would be fair-play at all to follow a visitor even at adistance from home and clear of our premises; except for the purpose offetching him back, and giving him more to go on with. Nevertheless wecould not but think, the times being wild and disjointed, that UncleBen was not using fairly the part of a guest in our house, to make longexpeditions we knew not whither, and involve us in trouble we knew notwhat.

  For his mode was directly after breakfast to pray to the Lord a little(which used not to be his practice), and then to go forth upon Dolly,the which was our Annie's pony, very quiet and respectful, with a bag ofgood victuals hung behind him, and two great cavalry pistols in front.And he always wore his meanest clothes as if expecting to be robbed,or to disarm the temptation thereto; and he never took his goldenchronometer neither his bag of money. So much the girls found out andtold me (for I was never at home myself by day); and they very craftilyspurred me on, having less noble ideas perhaps, to hit upon UncleReuben's track, and follow, and see what became of him. For he neverreturned until dark or more, just in time to be in before us, who werecoming home from the harvest. And then Dolly always seemed very weary,and stained with a muck from beyond our parish.

  But I refused to follow him, not only for the loss of a day's work tomyself, and at least half a day to the other men, but chiefly because Icould not think that it would be upright and manly. It was all verywell to creep warily into the valley of the Doones, and heed everythingaround me, both because they were public enemies, and also because Irisked my life at every step I took there. But as to tracking a feebleold man (however subtle he might be), a guest moreover of our own, anda relative through my mother.--'Once for all,' I said, 'it is below me,and I won't do it.'

  Thereupon, the girls, knowing my way, ceased to torment me about it: butwhat was my astonishment the very next day to perceive that instead offourteen reapers, we were only thirteen left, directly our breakfastwas done with--or mowers rather I should say, for we were gone into thebarley now.

  'Who has been and left his scythe?' I asked; 'and here's a tin cup neverbeen handled!'

  'Whoy, dudn't ee knaw, Maister Jan,' said Bill Dadds, looking at mequeerly, 'as Jan Vry wur gane avore braxvass.'

  'Oh, very well,' I answered, 'John knows what he is doing.' For JohnFry was a kind of foreman now, and it would not do to say anything thatmight lessen his authority. However, I made up my mind to rope him, whenI should catch him by himself, without peril to his dignity.

  But when I came home in the evening, late and almost weary, there was noAnnie cooking my supper, nor Lizzie by the fire reading, nor even littleRuth Huckaback watching the shadows and pondering. Upon this, I went tothe girls' room, not in the very best of tempers, and there I found allthree of them in the little place set apart for Annie, eagerly listeningto John Fry, who was telling some great adventure. John had a great jugof ale beside him, and a horn well drained; and he clearly looked uponhimself as a hero, and the maids seemed to be of the same opinion.

  'Well done, John,' my sister was saying, 'capitally done, John Fry. Howvery brave you have been, John. Now quick, let us hear the rest of it.'

  'What does all this nonsense mean?' I said, in a voice which frightenedthem, as I could see by the light of our own mutton candles: 'John Fry,you be off to your wife at once, or you shall have what I owe you now,instead of to-morrow morning.'

  John made no answer, but scratched his head, and looked at the maidensto take his part.

>   'It is you that must be off, I think,' said Lizzie, looking straight atme with all the impudence in the world; 'what right have you to come inhere to the young ladies' room, without an invitation even?'

  'Very well, Miss Lizzie, I suppose mother has some right here.' And withthat, I was going away to fetch her, knowing that she always took myside, and never would allow the house to be turned upside down in thatmanner. But Annie caught hold of me by the arm, and little Ruth stood inthe doorway; and Lizzie said, 'Don't be a fool, John. We know things ofyou, you know; a great deal more than you dream of.'

  Upon this I glanced at Annie, to learn whether she had been telling,but her pure true face reassured me at once, and then she said verygently,--

  'Lizzie, you talk too fast, my child. No one knows anything of our Johnwhich he need be ashamed of; and working as he does from light to dusk,and earning the living of all of us, he is entitled to choose his owngood time for going out and for coming in, without consulting a littlegirl five years younger than himself. Now, John, sit down, and you shallknow all that we have done, though I doubt whether you will approve ofit.'

  Upon this I kissed Annie, and so did Ruth; and John Fry looked a dealmore comfortable, but Lizzie only made a face at us. Then Annie began asfollows:--

  'You must know, dear John, that we have been extremely curious, eversince Uncle Reuben came, to know what he was come for, especially atthis time of year, when he is at his busiest. He never vouchsafed anyexplanation, neither gave any reason, true or false, which shows hisentire ignorance of all feminine nature. If Ruth had known, and refusedto tell us, we should have been much easier, because we must have got itout of Ruth before two or three days were over. But darling Ruth knew nomore than we did, and indeed I must do her the justice to say that shehas been quite as inquisitive. Well, we might have put up with it, if ithad not been for his taking Dolly, my own pet Dolly, away every morning,quite as if she belonged to him, and keeping her out until close upondark, and then bringing her home in a frightful condition. And he evenhad the impudence, when I told him that Dolly was my pony, to say thatwe owed him a pony, ever since you took from him that little horse uponwhich you found him strapped so snugly; and he means to take Dolly toDulverton with him, to run in his little cart. If there is law in theland he shall not. Surely, John, you will not let him?'

  'That I won't,' said I, 'except upon the conditions which I offered himonce before. If we owe him the pony, we owe him the straps.'

  Sweet Annie laughed, like a bell, at this, and then she went on with herstory.

  'Well, John, we were perfectly miserable. You cannot understand it, ofcourse; but I used to go every evening, and hug poor Dolly, and kissher, and beg her to tell me where she had been, and what she had seen,that day. But never having belonged to Balaam, darling Dolly was quiteunsuccessful, though often she strove to tell me, with her ears down,and both eyes rolling. Then I made John Fry tie her tail in a knot, witha piece of white ribbon, as if for adornment, that I might trace heramong the hills, at any rate for a mile or two. But Uncle Ben was toodeep for that; he cut off the ribbon before he started, saying hewould have no Doones after him. And then, in despair, I applied to you,knowing how quick of foot you are, and I got Ruth and Lizzie to help me,but you answered us very shortly; and a very poor supper you had thatnight, according to your deserts.

  'But though we were dashed to the ground for a time, we were not whollydiscomfited. Our determination to know all about it seemed to increasewith the difficulty. And Uncle Ben's manner last night was so dry,when we tried to romp and to lead him out, that it was much worse thanJamaica ginger grated into a poor sprayed finger. So we sent him tobed at the earliest moment, and held a small council upon him. Ifyou remember you, John, having now taken to smoke (which is a hatefulpractice), had gone forth grumbling about your bad supper and not takingit as a good lesson.'

  'Why, Annie,' I cried, in amazement at this, 'I will never trust youagain for a supper. I thought you were so sorry.'

  'And so I was, dear; very sorry. But still we must do our duty. And whenwe came to consider it, Ruth was the cleverest of us all; for she saidthat surely we must have some man we could trust about the farm to goon a little errand; and then I remembered that old John Fry would doanything for money.'

  'Not for money, plaize, miss,' said John Fry, taking a pull at the beer;'but for the love of your swate face.'

  'To be sure, John; with the King's behind it. And so Lizzie ran for JohnFry at once, and we gave him full directions, how he was to slip out ofthe barley in the confusion of the breakfast, so that none might misshim; and to run back to the black combe bottom, and there he would findthe very same pony which Uncle Ben had been tied upon, and there is nofaster upon the farm. And then, without waiting for any breakfast unlesshe could eat it either running or trotting, he was to travel all up theblack combe, by the track Uncle Reuben had taken, and up at the top tolook forward carefully, and so to trace him without being seen.'

  'Ay; and raight wull a doo'd un,' John cried, with his mouth in thebullock's horn.

  'Well, and what did you see, John?' I asked, with great anxiety; thoughI meant to have shown no interest.

  'John was just at the very point of it,' Lizzie answered me sharply,'when you chose to come in and stop him.'

  'Then let him begin again,' said I; 'things being gone so far, it is nowmy duty to know everything, for the sake of you girls and mother.'

  'Hem!' cried Lizzie, in a nasty way; but I took no notice of her, forshe was always bad to deal with. Therefore John Fry began again, beingheartily glad to do so, that his story might get out of the tumble whichall our talk had made in it. But as he could not tell a tale inthe manner of my Lorna (although he told it very well for those whounderstood him) I will take it from his mouth altogether, and state inbrief what happened.

  When John, upon his forest pony, which he had much ado to hold (itsmouth being like a bucket), was come to the top of the long black combe,two miles or more from Plover's Barrows, and winding to the southward,he stopped his little nag short of the crest, and got off and lookedahead of him, from behind a tump of whortles. It was a long flat sweepof moorland over which he was gazing, with a few bogs here and there,and brushy places round them. Of course, John Fry, from his shepherdlife and reclaiming of strayed cattle, knew as well as need be where hewas, and the spread of the hills before him, although it was beyond ourbeat, or, rather, I should say, beside it. Not but what we might havegrazed there had it been our pleasure, but that it was not worth ourwhile, and scarcely worth Jasper Kebby's even; all the land beingcropped (as one might say) with desolation. And nearly all our knowledgeof it sprang from the unaccountable tricks of cows who have young calveswith them; at which time they have wild desire to get away from thesight of man, and keep calf and milk for one another, although it bein a barren land. At least, our cows have gotten this trick, and I haveheard other people complain of it.

  John Fry, as I said, knew the place well enough, but he liked it nonethe more for that, neither did any of our people; and, indeed, allthe neighbourhood of Thomshill and Larksborough, and most of all BlackBarrow Down lay under grave imputation of having been enchanted with avery evil spell. Moreover, it was known, though folk were loath to speakof it, even on a summer morning, that Squire Thom, who had been murderedthere, a century ago or more, had been seen by several shepherds, evenin the middle day, walking with his severed head carried in his lefthand, and his right arm lifted towards the sun.

  Therefore it was very bold in John (as I acknowledged) to venture acrossthat moor alone, even with a fast pony under him, and some whisky byhis side. And he would never have done so (of that I am quite certain),either for the sake of Annie's sweet face, or of the golden guinea,which the three maidens had subscribed to reward his skill and valour.But the truth was that he could not resist his own great curiosity. For,carefully spying across the moor, from behind the tuft of whortles, atfirst he could discover nothing having life and motion, except three orfour wild cattle roving
in vain search for nourishment, and a diseasedsheep banished hither, and some carrion crows keeping watch on her. Butwhen John was taking his very last look, being only too glad to gohome again, and acknowledge himself baffled, he thought he saw a figuremoving in the farthest distance upon Black Barrow Down, scarcely a thingto be sure of yet, on account of the want of colour. But as he watched,the figure passed between him and a naked cliff, and appeared to be aman on horseback, making his way very carefully, in fear of bogs andserpents. For all about there it is adders' ground, and large blackserpents dwell in the marshes, and can swim as well as crawl.

  John knew that the man who was riding there could be none but UncleReuben, for none of the Doones ever passed that way, and the shepherdswere afraid of it. And now it seemed an unkind place for an unarmed manto venture through, especially after an armed one who might not liketo be spied upon, and must have some dark object in visiting such drearsolitudes. Nevertheless John Fry so ached with unbearable curiosity toknow what an old man, and a stranger, and a rich man, and a peaceablecould possibly be after in that mysterious manner. Moreover, John sothrobbed with hope to find some wealthy secret, that come what would ofit he resolved to go to the end of the matter.

  Therefore he only waited awhile for fear of being discovered, tillMaster Huckaback turned to the left and entered a little gully, whencehe could not survey the moor. Then John remounted and crossed the roughland and the stony places, and picked his way among the morasses as fastas ever he dared to go; until, in about half an hour, he drew nigh theentrance of the gully. And now it behoved him to be most wary; for UncleBen might have stopped in there, either to rest his horse or havingreached the end of his journey. And in either case, John had littledoubt that he himself would be pistolled, and nothing more ever heardof him. Therefore he made his pony come to the mouth of it sideways,and leaned over and peered in around the rocky corner, while the littlehorse cropped at the briars.

  But he soon perceived that the gully was empty, so far at least as itscourse was straight; and with that he hastened into it, though his heartwas not working easily. When he had traced the winding hollow for halfa mile or more, he saw that it forked, and one part led to the left upa steep red bank, and the other to the right, being narrow and slightlytending downwards. Some yellow sand lay here and there between thestarving grasses, and this he examined narrowly for a trace of MasterHuckaback.

  At last he saw that, beyond all doubt, the man he was pursuing had takenthe course which led down hill; and down the hill he must follow him.And this John did with deep misgivings, and a hearty wish that he hadnever started upon so perilous an errand. For now he knew not where hewas, and scarcely dared to ask himself, having heard of a horrible hole,somewhere in this neighbourhood, called the Wizard's Slough. ThereforeJohn rode down the slope, with sorrow, and great caution. And these grewmore as he went onward, and his pony reared against him, being scared,although a native of the roughest moorland. And John had just made uphis mind that God meant this for a warning, as the passage seemed darkerand deeper, when suddenly he turned a corner, and saw a scene whichstopped him.

  For there was the Wizard's Slough itself, as black as death, andbubbling, with a few scant yellow reeds in a ring around it. Outsidethese, bright water-grass of the liveliest green was creeping, temptingany unwary foot to step, and plunge, and founder. And on the margewere blue campanula, sundew, and forget-me-not, such as no child couldresist. On either side, the hill fell back, and the ground wasbroken with tufts of rush, and flag, and mares-tail, and a few roughalder-trees overclogged with water. And not a bird was seen or heard,neither rail nor water-hen, wag-tail nor reed-warbler.

  Of this horrible quagmire, the worst upon all Exmoor, John had heardfrom his grandfather, and even from his mother, when they wanted to keephim quiet; but his father had feared to speak of it to him, being a manof piety, and up to the tricks of the evil one. This made John the moredesirous to have a good look at it now, only with his girths well up,to turn away and flee at speed, if anything should happen. And nowhe proved how well it is to be wary and wide-awake, even in lonesomeplaces. For at the other side of the Slough, and a few land-yards beyondit, where the ground was less noisome, he had observed a felled treelying over a great hole in the earth, with staves of wood, and slabs ofstone, and some yellow gravel around it. But the flags of reeds aroundthe morass partly screened it from his eyes, and he could not makeout the meaning of it, except that it meant no good, and probably waswitchcraft. Yet Dolly seemed not to be harmed by it, for there she wasas large as life, tied to a stump not far beyond, and flipping the fliesaway with her tail.

  While John was trembling within himself, lest Dolly should get scent ofhis pony, and neigh and reveal their presence, although she could notsee them, suddenly to his great amazement something white arose out ofthe hole, under the brown trunk of the tree. Seeing this his blood wentback within him, yet he was not able to turn and flee, but rooted hisface in among the loose stones, and kept his quivering shoulders back,and prayed to God to protect him. However, the white thing itself wasnot so very awful, being nothing more than a long-coned night-cap with atassel on the top, such as criminals wear at hanging-time. But when Johnsaw a man's face under it, and a man's neck and shoulders slowly risingout of the pit, he could not doubt that this was the place where themurderers come to life again, according to the Exmoor story. He knewthat a man had been hanged last week, and that this was the ninth dayafter it.

  Therefore he could bear no more, thoroughly brave as he had been,neither did he wait to see what became of the gallows-man; but climbedon his horse with what speed he might, and rode away at full gallop.Neither did he dare go back by the way he came, fearing to face BlackBarrow Down! therefore he struck up the other track leading away towardsCloven Rocks, and after riding hard for an hour and drinking allhis whisky, he luckily fell in with a shepherd, who led him on to apublic-house somewhere near Exeford. And here he was so unmanned, theexcitement being over, that nothing less than a gallon of ale and halfa gammon of bacon, brought him to his right mind again. And he took goodcare to be home before dark, having followed a well-known sheep track.

  When John Fry finished his story at last, after many exclamations fromAnnie, and from Lizzie, and much praise of his gallantry, yet somelittle disappointment that he had not stayed there a little longer,while he was about it, so as to be able to tell us more, I said to himvery sternly,--

  'Now, John, you have dreamed half this, my man. I firmly believe thatyou fell asleep at the top of the black combe, after drinking all yourwhisky, and never went on the moor at all. You know what a liar you are,John.'

  The girls were exceedingly angry at this, and laid their hands beforemy mouth; but I waited for John to answer, with my eyes fixed upon himsteadfastly.

  'Bain't for me to denai,' said John, looking at me very honestly, 'butwhat a maight tull a lai, now and awhiles, zame as other men doth, andmost of arl them as spaks again it; but this here be no lai, MaisterJan. I wush to God it wor, boy: a maight slape this naight the better.'

  'I believe you speak the truth, John; and I ask your pardon. Now not aword to any one, about this strange affair. There is mischief brewing, Ican see; and it is my place to attend to it. Several things come acrossme now--only I will not tell you.'

  They were not at all contented with this; but I would give them nobetter; except to say, when they plagued me greatly, and vowed to sleepat my door all night,--

  'Now, my dears, this is foolish of you. Too much of this matter is knownalready. It is for your own dear sakes that I am bound to be cautious.I have an opinion of my own; but it may be a very wrong one; I will notask you to share it with me; neither will I make you inquisitive.'

  Annie pouted, and Lizzie frowned, and Ruth looked at me with her eyeswide open, but no other mark of regarding me. And I saw that if any oneof the three (for John Fry was gone home with the trembles) could betrusted to keep a secret, that one was Ruth Huckaback.