MADCAP MEHITABEL
The long-boat grated on the beach and Wise Jan was the first ashore.
Scarlett and Wat disembarked in more leisurely fashion, and stretched
themselves luxuriously after their long and cramped boat voyage.
They were employing themselves in taking out of the stern such articles
as they had stowed there, when a challenging voice rang out clear and
high from the woods above.
"Jan Pettigrew! Jan Pettigrew!" it cried, "what do you here with our
long-boat? Why are you not in the Low Countries, making love to the
little Dutch maids with faces like flat-irons?"
"No, they ain't neither," cried Wise Jan, apparently not at all
astonished, making a face in the direction of his unseen querist;
"they're a sight better-looking than you be--and they comb their hair!"
He looked apologetically at Scarlett.
"Heed her not," he said, in a low voice, "'tis but crosspatch Mehitabel
Smith, our master's daughter. He has spoilt her by sparing of the wand
to beat her with when she was young, and now that she is grown--and
well grown, too--she will be forever climbing trees and crying uncivil
words to decent folk as they go by, and all, as she counts it, for
merriment and mischief-making."
"Ah, Jan! Wise Jan Pettigrew," the voice went on, "Jan that drank the
cow's milk and gave the calf water, because it was better for its
stomach--you are right early astir. And who are the brisk lads with
you? I know not that my father will be pleased to see strangers on
Branksea. Hold up your head, Jan, and learn to answer a lady civilly.
You have surely forgot or mislaid all the manners you ever had. Shut
your mouth, Jan--I do advise it; and do not, I pray you, so mump with
your chin and wamble with your legs!"
"Madcap!" cried Jan, stung by the pointed allusions to his defects of
person, "my legs are as straight as yours be, and serve me well, albeit
I wrap them not, as women do, in clouts and petticoats. And at least
if my legs are crooked and my jaw slack my eyes are straight set in my
head."
"And if eyes do look two ways," retorted the voice out of the unseen,
"'tis only with trying to keep them on the antics of both Jan
Pettigrew's legs at once; for your knees do so knock together like
Spanish castanets, and your legs so jimble-jamble in their sockets,
that 'tis as good as a puppet-with-strings dancing at the fair just to
watch 'em!"
Jan looked still more apologetically at Scarlett.
"I am black ashamed," he said; "but, after all, she means no harm by
it. She has never had any one to teach her religion or good manners,
but has run wild here on Branksea among the goats and the ignorant
sailormen."
"I hear thee, Wise Jan," cried the voice again; "tell no lying tales on
your betters, or I in my turn will tell the tale of how Wise Jan went
to Portsmouth--how the watch bade him go in and bathe, because that the
lukewarm town's-water was good for warts. And when he had gone in, glad
at heart to hear the marvel, being exceedingly warty, the watch stole
his clothes, and then put him a week in Bridewell for walking of the
streets without them in sight of the admiral's mother-in-law!"
"'Tis a lie!" shouted Jan, looking up from the boat, out of which he
had carefully extracted all the various belongings he had brought
with him; "a great and manifest lie it is! It was, as all men know,
for fighting with six sailormen of the fleet that I was shut up in
Bridewell."
"Wise Jan, Wise Jan, think upon what parson says concerning the day of
judgment!" replied the voice, reproachfully. "For if thus you deny your
true doings and confess them not, you will set all the little devils
down below to the carrying of firewood to be ready against the day of
your hanging."
Wise Jan did not deign to reply. He resigned the unequal wordy fray,
and taking a back-load of stuff on his shoulders, he led the way up the
neatly gravelled path, which wound from the little wooden landing-stage
into the green and arching woods.
As Scarlett and Wat followed after and looked about them with much
interest, a tall maid, clad in a blue skirt and figured blouse, and
with her short tangles of hair blowing loose about her ears, dropped
suddenly and lightly as a brown squirrel upon the path before them.
Whereat Wat and Scarlett stopped as sharply as if a gun had been loosed
off at them; for the girl had handed herself unceremoniously down
from among the leaves, and there she stood right in their path, as
little disconcerted as if that were the customary method of receiving
strangers upon the Isle of Branksea.
"I bid you welcome, gentlemen," she said, bowing to them like a
courteous boy of the court. Indeed, her kirtle was not much longer than
many a boy's Sunday coat, and her hair, cropped short and very curly,
had a boy's cap set carelessly upon the back of it.
Scarlett stared vaguely at the pleasant apparition.
"The Lord have mercy!" he said, as if to himself; "is this another of
them? 'Tis indeed high time we found that runaway love."
But Wat Gordon, to whom courtesy to women came by nature, placed
himself before the old soldier. He had his cap in his hand and bowed
right gracefully. Scarlett might cozen Wise Jan an he liked; but he,
Wat Gordon, at least knew better how to speak to a woman than did any
ancient Mustache of the Wars.
"My Lady of the Isle," he said, in the manner of the time, "I thank you
for your most courteous and unexpected welcome. We are two exiles from
Holland, escaping from prison. This good gentleman of yours has helped
us to set our feet again upon the shores of Britain, and in return we
have aided him to restore his master's property."
The girl listened with her head at the side, like a bird making up its
mind whether or not to fly. When Wat was half-way through with his
address she yawned.
"That is a long sermon and very dull," she said; "one might almost as
well have been in church. Come to breakfast."
So, much crestfallen, Wat followed meekly in the wake of Scarlett,
whose shoulders were shaking at the downfall of the squire of dames.
At the corner of the path, just where it opened out upon a made road
of beaten earth, Jack Scarlett turned with the obvious intention of
venturing a facetious remark, but Wat met him in the face with a snarl
so fierce that for peace' sake he thought better of it and relapsed
into covertly smiling silence.
"If you crack so much as one of your rusty japes upon me, Jack
Scarlett, I declare I'll set the point of my knife in your fat back!"
he said, viciously.
And for the rest of the way Scarlett laughed inwardly, while Wat
followed, plodding along sullenly and in an exceedingly evil temper.
The house to which they went was a curious one for the time and
country. It was built wholly of wood, with eaves that came down five
or six feet over the walls, so that they formed a continuous shelter
all about the house, very pleasant in hot weather. A wooden floor,
scrubbed very white and with mats of foreign grasses and straw upon
it, went all around under these wide eaves. Twisted shells, shining
stones, and many other remarkable and outlandish curiosities were set
in corners or displayed in niches.
At the outer door the girl turned sharply upon them.
"My name is Mehitabel Smith," she said, "and this is my father's house.
I like your looks well enough, but I would also know your degree and
your business. For Branksea is for the nonce in my keeping, and that
you have come with Wise Jan Pettigrew is no recommendation--since,
indeed, the creature takes up with every wastrel and run-the-country he
can pick up."
Wat had not got over the rebuff of his first introduction, and sulkily
declined to speak; but Scarlett hastened to assure Mistress Mehitabel
of the great consideration Wat and he enjoyed both at home and abroad.
"And for what were you in prison in Holland?" she said. "Was _he_ in
prison?" she continued, without waiting for any answer, looking at Wat.
Scarlett nodded. He had it on the tip of his tongue to say that it had
been owing to a brawl in a tavern. But at the last moment, seeing Wat's
dejected countenance, he made a little significant gesture of drawing
his hand across his throat.
"High-treason--a hanging or heading matter!" he answered, nodding his
head very gravely.
The girl looked at Wat with a sudden access of interest.
"Lord, Lord, I would that I lived in Holland! High-treason, and at his
age!" she exclaimed. "What chances must he not have had!"
Without further questioning concerning antecedents and character, she
led the way within. They passed through a wide hall, and down a gallery
painted of a pleasant pale green, into a neat kitchen with windows that
opened outward, and which had a brick-built fireplace and a wide Dutch
chimney at the end. Brass preserving pans, shining skillets, and tin
colanders made a brave show, set in a sort of diminishing perspective
upon the walls.
"Now if ye want breakfast ye must e'en put to your hand and help me
to set the fire agoing, Gray Badger!" she cried, suddenly, looking at
Scarlett. "Go get water to the spring. It is but a hundred yards beyond
that oak in the hollow. And you, young Master High Treason, catch hold
of that knife and set your white, high-treasonable hands to slicing the
bacon."