TWENTY POUNDS
The shrill voice of Mrs. Tunkiss was heard, as she ran screaming up
the stairs, calling for 'the master.' Then she burst into his room,
followed by the maid-of-all-work, who was in convulsive jerks.
'Oh, master! there is a riot. Some of our men have joined, and there is
a stack on fire at Gaultrip's. The mob is coming here, and threatens to
burn us.'
'Who are coming?' asked Drownlands, looking up. He staggered to his
feet, but was as one dazed. He did not observe the glare in the room.
He did not hear distinctly the words spoken.
'Look, master! look at the blaze. It is at Gaultrip's. You can hear
them coming on. They are swearing horrible, and say they will have our
lives.'
'What is this all about?'
'I don't know for certain. Tom Easy has run here afore to tell us what
he has gathered. But lawk! poor lad, he's frightened; and me—my poor
head won't hold it. He says the mob be armed with bombs and cannons,
and all sorts of engines of war, and they'll blow us up into the skies.'
Drownlands passed his hand over his eyes, then went to the window and
looked out.
He saw in the distance the red blaze of a burning rick, the flames
dancing and leaping in the air, and carrying with them wisps of ignited
straw, which were borne on the wind as firebrands, to carry destruction
elsewhere. He could see the mob advancing as a ripple of fire running
along the drove before a dark wave. The rioters had, in fact, twisted
up bands of straw, had lighted them, and were waving them as torches as
they advanced, and the flames were reflected in the dykes on each side
of the road. Drownlands was surprised. He threw up the sash, and the
roar of voices was carried into the room.
'What is the meaning of this?' asked he. 'Who are these that are coming
this way?'
'It is the rioters,' answered Mrs. Tunkiss.
'Rioters? What rioters?'
'Lawk! how can I tell? Tom Easy said they want advance of wages, and
cheap flour. And he said, they ask for money to help on the cause.'
'Cause? What cause?'
'Lawk, sir! how can I say? Tom Easy said it was the Union of Fen
Labourers, and they will have blood or money. They will make you swear
to pay them two shillings a-day more wage, and pull the price of flour
down to half a crown.'
'They demand money of me, do they? Let them venture to require it of
me.'
'Here they are!' screamed Mrs. Tunkiss, as a blow was levelled at the
door, and the strokes resounded through the house.
'Who was that?' shouted Drownlands from the window, with a curse. He
was not a man to spare oaths when he was angry. 'Who struck my door? I
will have the law of him.'
The mob was pouring into the yard.
'Make a blaze, and let us see the old tiger!' shouted one of the
rioters, and bunches of straw and corn were snatched from a rick, a
blaze was made, and fire tossed about, illumining the face of the house
and the figures of the men in the waggon.
'By heaven, I know you!' shouted Drownlands from the window. 'That is
Aaron Chevell in the waggon, and by him Isaac Harley and Harry Tansley
with guns. I'll not forget you. I have a memory. I have five ash trees
on the drove side, and I shall have a rioter slung to every branch of
every tree, and shall begin with my own workmen.'
'Hold a civil tongue in your head!' shouted Chevell from the waggon.
'Don't threaten what you can't perform. We have guns here, as you see,
and can silence you; and we shan't think twice about doing so, if you
do not come to our terms.'
'Master Drownlands!' called Ephraim Beamish, working his way forward
in the waggon with his long arms, and leaning his elbows on the front
board when he had thrust himself into the middle position, 'you will
gain nothing by abuse and threats. We have a good cause, and are a
thousand strong to support it. You have had everything in the Fens your
own way too long, and have trampled the working men under foot. You
have coined their sweat into silver'—
Some one shouted as a correction, 'Into gold.'
'Yes,' said Beamish; 'you have coined the sweat of your men into heavy
gold, and have left the men to hunger, and toil, and nakedness; to
cramp, and ague, and fever. They have their rights as well as you. They
have borne their wrongs long enough. Now they have risen to demand what
in equity is theirs—some share of the profits, some just proportion
out of your gains, so that they may live in comfort, and not barely
live.'
'Shut your mouth!' roared one of the crowd; 'we want no preaching now.
We knows our rights, and we'll maintain them with our fists, and not
with your tongue. Pip thinks he'll convert Tiger Ki, he does! Words
won't do that. Send a shot at him, Tansley. That's the only argument
for him.'
Tansley, the man addressed, thrust Beamish back with the butt-end of
his fowling-piece, and laid his barrel on the front board.
'Listen, Master Drownlands,' shouted Beamish, again making an effort
to shoulder his way to the front of the waggon. 'What we ask of you is
twenty pounds for the cause of the United Fen Labourers. Give us twenty
pounds, and swear to the conditions—a fair wage and cheap corn. Then
we will do you no harm whatever. We will take your money, and move
along our way. We are bound for Ely.'
'I pay you twenty pounds?' yelled Drownlands. 'I have a gun as well as
you have, and will contribute lead to the cause—lead only.'
He ran to the corner of the room and took down his gun from the rack.
'I'll shoot,' threatened Tansley.
'Ay—and so will I,' said Drownlands, 'and let us see who can take the
best aim. I think my eye is pretty well known to be sharp and my hand
steady. By the Lord, I'll not spare you!' He paused and put on a hat.
'I can see finely with all those wisps of fire. Hold up your torches,
boys, higher, that I may send my bullet into Tansley's heart. He will
leap, and then down he goes.'
Fallen pieces of ignited straw had kindled the half-kneaded straw on
the ground, and there ran flames and half-flames to and fro on the
soil. The cart-horses in the waggon started and shifted position to
escape these flashes and flickers.
'Drownlands!' shouted a young voice, and Mark Runham thrust his
way through the crowd. 'I pray you be reasonable. You will provoke
bloodshed.'
'What, you there? You a ringleader in riots?' exclaimed Drownlands,
lowering his fowling-piece.
'I am not that. Let me come within.'
Then Mark stood on the waggon-shafts and called to the crowd—
'Refrain from violence! Leave me to manage Master Drownlands. I will
engage him to let you have the money you require.'
Then he jumped down from the shafts and ran up the steps.
The door had been bolted and chained by the housekeeper, but Zita,
hearing what Mark said, without waiting for orders, descended to the
ground floor, and unbarred the door, and admitted him. He ran upstairs,
for no time was to be lost. The mob was restless and irritated. It
was impatient to be on its way to Ely, and yet was reluctant to leave
Prickwillow without having drawn money from it, or done some mischief.
Drownlands was too angry to listen to advice. He would not hear of
coming to terms with the rabble. He had been too long accustomed to
domineer over the labourers to fear them now. He in no way realised how
much courage is given by association in numbers.
'What are you here for? How dare you enter uninvited?' he exclaimed, as
Mark came into the office, followed by Zita.
'I admitted him,' said the girl. 'He has come in your interest.'
'He is one of the rioters! He is a leader! A Runham of Crumbland, with
a tail of dirty scoundrels after him, burning, pillaging, and getting
drunk.'
'I beseech you,' said Mark—'I entreat you to listen to reason. The men
are, as you say, drunk—drunk with folly. I am no leader.'
'You are acting for them.'
'I am an intermediary. They have spared me. They came to Crumbland, but
we humoured them, brought out cake and ale, and they went their way
without molestation. Gaultrip resisted, and they set fire to a stack,
and so frightened him that he yielded, and paid fifteen pounds. Now he
is engaged in saving his other stacks. Do not provoke these fellows
further.'
'I will not listen to you. You ought to be ashamed to take the part of
these scurvy ragamuffins.'
'I am not taking their part, but yours. Hark!'
There was a cry from the yard of, 'Drownlands! Tiger Ki! We will
break in the house door unless you give us money.'
Then a brick was thrown. It crashed through the double panes of the
window with raised sash, and fell in the room, accompanied by a shower
of glass splinters.
'I will shoot one of them!' exclaimed the yeoman, and he ran with his
gun to the window.
Mark had just time to strike up the barrel, and the contents were
discharged in the air, hurting nobody.
Drownlands turned on him with an oath.
'I will punish you,' he said, stamping with fury, and he rushed upon
Mark with his gun raised over his head, grasping it by the barrel.
Then Zita sprang between them, holding the flail in both her hands, as
a ward against the stock.
'Stand back, Mark!' she cried. 'He dare not touch you across this
flail.'
It was as she said.
The man stood as one paralysed, the uplifted gun in his hands, his eyes
glaring at young Runham, and the red reflections of the fire flashing
on his face and turning it to blood. But the blow did not fall. His
muscles remained immovable, the gun suspended in the air, till Zita
lowered the flail, and put it behind her back. Then the spell was off
him. He let the gun fall on the ground, and his head sank on his bosom.
The discharge of the fowling-piece had produced a hush in the voices
outside.
None knew whether, in the darkness, some one had been hit. But when,
after a pause, it was found that no harm had been done, then there
broke forth loud cries and execrations; the courage of the rabble rose
with a sense of its immunity, and a rain of brickbats beat against
the windows of the house, shivering the panes. The kitchen-maid fell
on the floor in a fit. Mrs. Tunkiss went into a series of shrieks.
Renewed blows were raised against the house door, and they were
accompanied with cries of, 'Smash it in! Tear the tiger's house down!
He has hundreds of pounds put away somewhere. If he will not pay twenty
sovereigns when we ask civil, we will take two hundred.'
Then one shrill voice cried, 'Make a bonfire of the wheat ricks.'
'Ki Drownlands! will you do nothing?' asked Mark; 'will you not give up
a few pounds to save those long ranges of stacks?'
'Let them do their worst,' answered the master of Prickwillow doggedly.
'By the light of the fire I will note every face, and mark them all
down, man by man, and then woe betide them.'
Then a burst of cheers, and cries of, 'That will do famously. We will
have that out. Get horses, harness, and we will drive to Ely.'
Zita ran to the window, and returned hastily with a blank face.
'They have found my van! They have got inside. They are clambering on
the roof. They are treating it worse than poultry! Oh, Mark! Mark!'
Then through the window she pleaded, 'Spare my van. Here are ten gold
sovereigns.' Then to Mark, 'Take my money, go to the men, and get them
to leave my darling, precious van alone.'
'Stay,' said Drownlands. 'I have changed my mind.' He went to the door
and summoned the domestics who had fled when the brickbat crashed into
the room. 'Come here, Leehanna. Sarah, get out of your fits and come at
once. Come here, Tom Easy.'
The frightened servants obeyed.
'Bring a candle,' he said.
The scared housekeeper did as required.
When Drownlands had received the light, he went into the passage, and,
holding it before the face of Mark, said to the domestics, 'Do you know
who this is? Is not this Mark Runham? Can you swear to it?' He paused
for an answer to each question.
'He has come here, pushed his way into my house, against my wishes, to
force me to contribute twenty pounds towards the cause of the rioters.
He threatens me with the burning of my ricks if I do not comply. Is it
not so?'
'I have come,' said Mark, 'because I am desirous to save you, as well
as others in your house, from injury; and also to intervene and protect
these misguided men against committing a crime.'
'They touched nothing at Crumbland.'
'No; we gave them food and drink.'
'Yes, you are hand and glove with them. And now you are acting as their
spokesman and their leader. Take my money—twenty pounds, and take
Zita's ten pounds—thirty pounds in all, the plunder of this house.
Mind you, I give it on compulsion. I do not find meat and liquor for
the rioters; I do this to save my ricks of corn. And I give it to you,
Mark Runham, acting for the rioters.'
Drownlands turned to those present.
'I call upon you all to witness, you, Leehanna Tunkiss, you, Sarah,
you, Tom Easy, and you, Zita, that I pay over my twenty pounds against
my will. Open your hand, Mark Runham. Let them see that you have there
my twenty pounds and Zita's ten pounds. There are the sovereigns all in
gold. They are well spent—well spent—they rid me of you.'
A few moments later a shout rang from the crowd without—'Tiger Ki
has shelled out. For the Union, for the Cause! for the fen-labourers!
Twenty pounds! Twenty pounds for liberty and right! The cheap loaf and
the big wage! Hurrah! hurrah, boys! Forward to Ely! On to the banks. On
to the mills!'
Drownlands looked after the retreating mob from his window, and said,
with a sneer, 'Go on—to the gallows, Mark Runham; I am clear of you
now. Cheap at twenty pounds.'