"what be these tantrums? Come, draw; for I'm as thirsty as an
hour-glass, poor wretch, that has felt sand run through his gullet any
time these twenty years."
"Draw for yourself, rogue," says Mother Drum; "there's naught I'll serve
you with, unless, indeed, I were bar-woman at St. Giles's Pound, and had
to froth you your last quart, as you went up the Heavy Hill to Tyburn."
"We shall all go there in time--good time," breaks in a deep solemn
voice, drawn somehow through the nose, and coming from the Man-Dog they
called Grumps; "meanwhile, O greasy woman, let the beverage our brother
asked for be drawn, and I, even Grumps, will partake thereof, and ask a
blessing."
"Woman yourself!" cries Moll Drum, in a rage. "Woman yourself, and T----
in your teeth, and woman to the mother that bore you, and sat in the
stocks for Lightness! Who are you, quotha, old reverend smock with the
splay foot? Come up, now, prithee, Bridewell Bird! You will drink, will
you? I saw no dust or cobwebs come out of your mouth. Go hang, you
moon-calf, false faucet, you roaring horse-courser, you ranger of
Turnbull, you dull malt-house with a mouth of a peck and the sign of the
swallow above."
By this time Mother Drum was well-nigh out of breath, and panted, and
looked so hot, that they might have put her up by Temple Bar on Queen
Bess's birthnight for a Bonfire, and so saved Tar Barrels. And as she
spoke she brandished a large Frying Pan, from which great drops of hot
grease--smelling very savoury by the way--dropped on to the sanded
floor. The other Blacks seemed in nowise disturbed by this Dispute, but
were rather amused thereby, and gathered in a ring round Jowler and
Grumps and the Fat Woman, laughing.
"Never mind, Mother Drum," quoth one; "she was a pig-woman once in
Bartlemy Fair, and lost her temper through the heat of a coal-fire
roasting porkers. Was't not hot, Mother Drum? was not Tophet a kind of
cool cellar to it?"
It was Surly who spoke, and Mother Drum turns on him in a rage.
"You lie, you pannierman's by-blow!" she cried; "you bony muckfowl, with
the bony back sticking out like the ace of spades on the point of a
small-sword! you lie, Bobchin, Changeling, Horseleech! 'Slid, you
Shrovetide Cutpurse, I'll scald your hide with gravy, I will!"
"Ware the pan, ware the pan!" all the Blacks cried out; for the Good
Woman made a flourish as though she would have carried out her threat;
whereupon my Man-Dog, Jowler, thought it was time to interpose, and
spoke.
"There's no harm in Mother Drum, but that her temper's as hot as her
pan, and we are late to supper. Come, Mother, Draw for us, and save you
still. I'll treat you to burnt brandy afterwards."
"What did he call me Pig-Woman for?" she grumbled, but still half
mollified. "What if I did waste my youth and prime in cooking of porkers
in a booth; I am no cutpurse. I, I never shoved the tumbler for
tail-drawing or poll-snatching on a levee-day.[L] But I will draw for
you, and welcome my guests of the game."
"And Supper, good Moll, Supper," added Jowler.
"An you had not hindered me, it would have been ready upstairs. There
are more upstairs besides you that hunger after the fat and the lean.
But can you sup without a cook? Will venison run off the spit ready
roasted, think you, like the pigs in Lubberland, that jump down your
throat, and cry _wee wee_?"
She began to bustle about, and summoned, by the name of Cicely
Grip--adding thereto the epithet of "faggot"--a stout serving-lass, who
might have been comely enough, but whose face and hands were very nearly
as black as those of the Man-Dog's. This wench brought a number of brown
jugs full of beer, and the Blacks took to drinking with much zest. Then
Jowler, who seemed a kind of lieutenant, in some authority over them,
gave the word of command to "Peel;" and they hastened to leave the room,
which was but a mean sort of barn-like chamber, with bare walls, a
wattled roof, and a number of rough wooden tables and settles, all
littered with jugs and Tobacco pipes. So I and the Fat Woman and Jowler,
Cicely Grip having betaken herself to the kitchen, were left together.
"Cicely will dish up, Mother Drum," he says; "you have fried collops
enow for us, I trow; and if more are wanted for the Billy Boys, you can
to your pan again. You began your brandy pottage too early tonight,
Mother. Let us have no more of your vapours 'twixt this and day-break,
prithee. What would Captain Night say?"
"Captain Night be hanged!"
"He will be hanged, as our brother Surly has it, in good time, I doubt
it not. Meanwhile, order must be kept at the Stag o' Tyne. Get you and
draw the dram I promised you; and, Mother, wash me this little lad's
face and hands, that he may sit down to meat with us in a seemly
manner."
"Who the Clink is he?" asked Mother Drum, eyeing me with no very Great
Favour.
"He says he is little Boy Jack," answered Mr. Jowler, gravely. "We will
give him another name before we have done with him. Meantime he has a
guinea in his pocket to pay his shot, and that's enough for the fat old
Alewife of the Stag o' Tyne."
"Fat again!" muttered Mother Drum. "Is it a 'Sizes matter to be full of
flesh? I be fat indeed," she answered, with a sigh, "and must have a
chair let out o' the sides for me, that these poor old hips may have
play. And I, that was of so buxom a figure."
"Never mind your Figure, Mother," remarked my Conductor, "but do my
bidding. I'll e'en go and peel too;" and without more ado he leaves us.
Madam Drum went into her kitchen and fetched forth a Tin Bowl full of
hot suds, and with these she washed me as she had been directed. I bore
it all unresistingly--likewise a scrubbing with a rough towel. Then,
when my hair was kempt with an old Felting comb, almost toothless, I
felt refreshed and hungrier than ever. But Mother Drum never ceased to
complain of having been called fat.
"Time was, my smooth-faced Coney," she said, "that I was as lithe and
limber as you are, and was called Jaunty Peg. And now poor old Moll
cooks collops for those that are born to dance jigs in chains for the
north-east wind to play the fiddle to. Time was when a whole army
followed me, when I beat the drum before the great Duke."
"What Duke?" I asked, looking up at her great red face.
"What Duke, milksop! Why, who should I mean but the Duke that won
Hochstedt and Ramilies:--the Ace of Trumps, my dear, that saved the
Queen of Hearts, the good Queen Anne, so bravely. What Duke should I
mean but John o' Marlborough."
"I have seen _him_," I said, with childish gravity.
"Seen him! when and where, loblolly-boy? You're too young to have been a
drummer."
"I saw him," I answered, blushing and stammering; "I saw him when--when
I was a little Gentleman."
"Lord save us!" cries Mother Drum, bursting into a jolly laugh. "A
Gentleman! since when, your Lordship, I pray? But we're all Gentlefolks
here, I trow; and Captain Night's the Marquis of Aylesbury Jail. A
Gentleman! oho!"
Hereupon, and which, to my great relief, quitted me of the perturbation
brought on by a Rash Admission, there came three knocks from above, and
Mother Drum said hurriedly, "Supper, supper;" and opening a side-door,
pushes me on to a staircase, and tells me to mount, and pull a reverence
to the company I found at table.
Twenty steps brought me to another door I found on the jar, and I passed
into a great room with a roof of wooden joists, and a vast table in the
middle set out with supper. There was no table-cloth; but there were
plenty of meats smoking hot in great pewter dishes. I never saw, either,
so many bottles and glasses on one board in my life; and besides these,
there was good store of great shining Flagons, carved and chased, which
I afterwards knew to be of Solid Silver.
Round this table were gathered at least Twenty Men; and but for their
voices I should never have known that five among them were my companions
of just now. For all were attired in a very brave Manner, wore wigs and
powder and embroidered waistcoats; although, what I thought strange,
each man dined in boots, with a gold-laced hat on his head, and his
Hanger by his side, and a brace of Pistols on the table beside him. Yet
I must make two exceptions to this rule. He whom they called Surly, had
on a full frizzed wig and a cassock and bands, that, but for his rascal
face, would have put me in mind of the Parson at St. George's, Hanover
Square, who always seemed to be so angry with me. Surly was Chaplain,
and said Grace, and ate and drank more than any one there. Lastly, at
the table's head, sat a thin, pale, proper kind of a man, wearing his
own hair long, in a silken club, dressed in the pink of Fashion, as
though he were bidden to a birthday, with a dandy rapier at his side,
and instead of Pistols, a Black Velvet Visor laid by the side of his
plate. He had very large blue eyes and very fair hair. He might have
been some thirty-five years old, and the guests, who treated him with
much deference, addressed him as Captain Night.
Mr. Jowler, whose hat had as brave a cock as any there, made me sit by
him; and, with three more knocks and the Parson's Grace, we all fell to
supper. They helped me plentifully, and I ate my fill. Then my friend
gave me a silver porringer full of wine-and-water. It was all very good;
but I knew not what viands I was eating, and made bold to ask Jowler.
"'Tis venison, boy, that was never shot by the King's keeper," he
answered. "But, if you would be free of Charlwood Chase, and wish to get
out yet with a whole skin, I should advise you to eat your meat and ask
no questions."
I was very much frightened at this, and said no more until the end of
Supper. When they had finished, they fell to drinking of Healths, great
bowls of Punch being brought to them for that purpose. The first toast
was the King, and that fell to Jowler.
"The King!" says he, rising.
"Over the water?" they ask.
"No," answers Jowler. "The King everywhere. King James, and God bless
him."
"I won't drink _that_," objects the Chaplain. "You know I am a King
George man."
"Drink the Foul Fiend, an' you will," retorts the Proposer. "You'd be
stanch and true either way. Now, Billy Boys, the King!"
And they fell to tumbling down on their knees, and drinking His Majesty
in brimming bumpers. I joined in the ceremony perforce, although I knew
nothing about King James, save that Monarch my Grandmother used to Speak
about, who Withdrew himself from these kingdoms in the year 1688; and at
Church 'twas King George they were wont to pray for, and not King James.
And little did I ween that, in drinking this Great Person on my knees, I
was disobeying the Precept of my dear dead Kinswoman.
"I have a bad foot," quoth Captain Night, "and cannot stir from my
chair; but I drink all healths that come from loyal hearts."
Many more Healths followed. The Chaplain gave the Church, "and confusion
to Old Rapine, that goes about robbing chancels of their chalices, and
parsons of their dues, and the very poor-box of alms." And then they
drank, "Vert and Venison," and then, "A black face, a white smock, and a
red hand." And then they betook themselves to Roaring choruses, and
Smoking and Drinking galore, until I fell fast asleep in my chair.
I woke up not much before Noon the next day, in a neat little chamber
very cleanly appointed; but found to my surprise that, in addition to my
own clothes, there was laid by my bedside a little Smock or Gaberdine of
coarse linen, and a bowl full of some sooty stuff that made me shudder
to look at. And my Surprise was heightened into amazed astonishment
when, having donned my own garments, and while curiously turning over
the Gaberdine, there came a knock, and anon stepped into the room the
same comely Servant-maid that had ridden with us in the Wagon six months
since, on that sad journey to school, and that had been so kind to me in
the way of new milk and cheesecakes.
She was very smartly dressed, with a gay flowered apron, and a flycap
all over glass-beads, like so many Blue-bottles. And she had a gold
brooch in her stomacher, and fine thread hose, and red Heels to her
shoes.
She was as kind to me as ever, and told me that I was among those who
would treat me well, and stand my friends, if I obeyed their commands.
And I, who, I confess, had by this time begun to look on the Blacks and
their Ways with a kind of Schoolboy glee, rose, nothing loth, and donned
the Strange Accoutrements my entertainers provided for me. The girl
helped me to dress, smiling and giggling mightily the while; but, as I
dressed, I could not help calling her by the name she had given me in
the Wagon, and asking how she had come into that strange Place.
"Hush, hush!" says she. "I'm Marian now, Maid Marian, that lives with
Mother Drum, and serves the Gentlemen Blacks, and brings Captain Night
his morning Draught. None of us are called by our real names at the Stag
o' Tyne, my dear. We all are in No-man's-land."
"But where is No-man's-land, and what is the Stag o' Tyne?" I asked, as
she slipped the Gaberdine over my head.
"No-man's-land is just in the left-hand top Corner of Charlwood Chase,
after you have turned to the left, and gone as far forward as you can by
taking two steps backward for every one straight on," answers the saucy
hussy. "And the Stag o' Tyne's even a Christian House of Entertainment
that Mother Drum keeps."
"And who is Mother Drum?" I resumed, my eyes opening wider than ever.
"A decent Alewife, much given to grease, and that cooks the King's
Venison for Captain Night and his Gentlemen Blacks."
"And Captain Night,--who is he?"
"Ask me no questions, and I'll tell you no lies," she makes reply.
"Captain Night is a Gentleman every inch of him, and as sure as Tom o'
Ten Thousand."
"And the Gentlemen Blacks?"
"Your mighty particular," quoth she, regarding me with a comical look.
"Well, my dear, since you are to be a Black yourself, and a Gentleman to
boot, I don't mind telling you. The Gentlemen Blacks are all Bold
Hearts, that like to kill the King's Venison without a Ranger's Warrant,
and to eat of it without paying Fee nor Royalty, and that drink of the
very best--"
"And that have Dog-whips to lay about the shoulders of tattling minxes
and curious urchins," cries, to my dismay, a voice behind us, and so to
us--by his voice at least--Captain Night, but in his body no longer the
same gay spark that I had seen the night before, or rather that morning
early. He was as Black, and Hairy, and Savage-looking as any--as Jowler,
or any one of that Dark Gang; and in no way differed from them, save
that on the middle finger of his Right Hand there glittered from out all
his Grease and Soot, a Great Diamond Ring.
"Come," he cries, "Mistress Nimble Tongue, will you be giving your Red
Rag a gallop yet, and Billy Boys waiting to break their Fast? Despatch,
and set out the boy, as I bade you."
"I am no kitchen-wench, I," answers the Maid of the Wagon, tossing her
head. "Cicely o' the Cinders yonder will bring you to your umble-pie,
and a Jack of small-beer to cool you, I trow. Was it live Charcoal or
Seacoal embers that you swallowed last night, Captain, makes you so dry
this morning?"
"Never mind, Goody Slack Jaw," says Captain Night. "I shall be thirstier
anon from listening to your prate. Will you hurry now, Gadfly, or is the
sun to sink before we get hounds in leash?"
Thus admonished, the girl takes me by the arm, and, without more ado,
dips a rag in the pot of black pigment, and begins to smear all my
hands, and face, and throat, with dabs of disguising shade. And, as she
bade me do the same to my Garment, and never spare Soot, I fell to work
too, making myself into the likeness of a Chimney-boy, till they might
have taken me into a nursery to Frighten naughty children.
Captain Night sat by himself on the side of the bed, idly clicking a
pistol-lock till such time as he proceeded to load it, the which threw
me into a cold tremor, not knowing but that it might be the Custom among
the Gentlemen Blacks to blow out the brains in the morning of those they
had feasted over-night. Yet, as there never was Schoolboy, I suppose,
but delighted in Soiling of his raiment, and making himself as Black as
any sweep in Whetstone Park, so did I begin to feel something like a
Pleasure in being masqueraded up to this Disguise, and began to wish for
a Pistol such as Captain Night had in his Hand, and such a Diamond Ring
as he wore on his finger.
"There!" cries the Maid of the Wagon, when I was well Blacked, surveying
me approvingly. "You're a real imp of Charlwood Chase now. Ugh! thou
young Rig! I'll kiss you when the Captain brings you home, and good soap
and water takes off those mourning weeds before supper-time."
She had clapped a great Deerskin cap on my head, and giving me a
friendly pat, was going off, when I could not help asking her in a sly
whisper what had become of the Pewterer of Pannier Alley.
"What! you remember him, do you?" she returned, with a half-smile and a
half-sigh. "Well, the Pewterer's here, and as black as you are."
"But I thought you were to wed," I remarked.
"Well!" she went on, almost fiercely, "cannot one wed at the Stag o'
Tyne? We have a brave Chaplain down-stairs,--as good as a Fleet Parson
any day, I wuss."
"But the Pewterer?" I persisted.
"I'll hang the Pewterer round thy neck!" she exclaimed in a pet. "The
Pewterer was unfortunate in his business, and so took to the Road; and
thus we have all come together in Charlwood Chase. But ask me no more
questions, or Captain Night will be deadly angry. Look, he fumes
already."
She tripped away saying this, and in Time, I think; for indeed the
Captain was beginning to show signs of impatience. She being gone, he
took me on his knee, all Black as I was, and in a voice kind enough, but
full of authority, bade me tell him all my History and the bare truth,
else would he have me tied neck and heels and thrown to the fishes.
So I told this strange Man all:--of Hanover Square, and my earliest
childhood. Of the Unknown Lady, and her Behaviour and conversation, even
to her Death. Of her Funeral, and the harsh bearing of Mistress Talmash
and the Steward Cadwallader unto me in my Helplessness and Loneliness.
Of my being smuggled away in a Wagon and sent to school to Gnawbit, and
of the Barbarous cruelty with which I had been treated by that Monster.
And finally, of the old Gentleman that used to cry, "Bear it! Bear it!"
and of his giving me a Guinea, and bidding me run away.
He listened to all I had to say, and then putting me down,
"A strange story," he thoughtfully remarks, "and not learnt out of the
storybooks either, or I sorely err. You have not a Lying Face, my man.
Wait a while, and you'll wear a Mask thicker than all that screen of
soot you have upon you now." But in this he was mistaken; for John
Dangerous ever scorned deception, and through life has always acted
fair and above-board.
"And that Guinea," he continued. "Hast it still?"
I answered that I had, producing it as I spoke, and that I was ready to
pay my Reckoning, and to treat him and the others, in which, meseems,
there spoke less of the little Runaway Schoolboy that had turned Sweep,
than of the Little Gentleman that was wont to be a Patron to his
Grandmother's lacqueys in Hanover Square.
"Keep thy piece of Gold," he answers, with a smile. "Thou shalt pay thy
footing soon enough. Or wilt thou go forth with thy Guinea and spend it,
and be taken by thy Schoolmaster to be whipped, perchance to death?"
I replied that I had the much rather stay with him, and the Gentlemen.
"The less said of the 'Gentlemen' the better. However, 'tis all one: we
are all Gentlemen at the Stag o' Tyne. Even thou art a Gentleman, little
Ragamuff."
"I am a Gentleman of long descent; and my fathers have fought and bled
for the True King; and Norman blood's better than German puddle-mud," I
replied, repeating well-nigh Mechanically that which my dear Kinswoman
had said to me, and Instilled into me many and many a time. In my
degraded Slavery, I had _well_-nigh forgotten the proud old words; but
only once it chanced that they had risen up unbidden, when I was flouted
and jeered at as Little Boy Jack by my schoolmates. Heaven help us, how
villanously cruel are children to those who are of their own age and
Poor and Friendless! What is it that makes young hearts so Hard? The
boys Derided and mocked me more than ever for that I said I was a
Gentleman; and by and by comes Gnawbit, and beats me black and blue--ay,
and gory too--with a furze-stub, for telling of Lies, as he falsely
said, the Ruffian.
"Well," resumed Captain Night, "thou shalt stay with us, young
Gentleman. But weigh it soberly, boy," he continued. "Thou art old
enough to know black from white, and brass from gold. Be advised; know
what we Blacks are. We are only Thieves that go about stealing the
King's Deer in Charlwood Chase."
I told him that I would abide by him and his Company; and with a grim
smile he clapped me on the shoulder, and told me that now indeed I was a
Gentleman Black, and Forest Free.
FOOTNOTES:
[K] "_My_ Flag" in the original MS.; but I put it down as a slip of the
pen, and altered it--G. A. S.
[L] Madam Drum, so far as I can make out the _argot_ of the day, here
insinuated that her opponent had been corrected at the cart's tail for
stealing swords out of the scabbards, and conveying wigs from the heads
of their owners, two crimes which have become obsolete since the Quality
have ceased to wear swords and periwigs.--G. A. S.
CHAPTER THE EIGHTH.
THE HISTORY OF MOTHER DRUM.
DURING the long nights I remained at the Stag o' Tyne ere I was thought
Worthy to join the Blacks in their nocturnal adventures, or was, by my
Hardihood and powers of Endurance--poor little mite that I was--adjudged
to be Forest Free, I remained under the charge of Ciceley of the
Cindery, and of the corpulent Tapstress whom the Blacks called Mother
Drum. These two women were very fond of gossiping with me; and
especially did Mother Drum love to converse with me upon her own Career,
which had been of the most Chequered, not to say Amazing nature. I have
already hinted that at one time this Remarkable Woman had professed the
Military Profession, in which she had shone with almost a Manly
Brilliance; and from her various confidences--all delivered to me as
they were in shreds and patches, and imparted at the oddest times and
seasons--I was enabled to shape her (to me) diverting history into
something like the following shape.