On arriving at Temple, I hastened to bed, and for two hours or more
slept the heavy sleep of extreme weariness, but then awoke in pain and
burning thirst. On getting out of bed, I found myself stiff and sore,
and somewhat light-headed; so, after a draught of water, tumbled into
bed again to watch for the morning in great uneasiness and impatience.
At length the dawn appeared, and not long afterwards Luke entered my
chamber, and made much ado about my condition, and that of my clothing,
rent in places, and stiffened with blood, which he naturally supposed
to be my own. His uplifted voice aroused Mr. Butharwick, who came to
my room, and I was compelled to submit to an examination, which
revealed more bruises and slight wounds than I had been aware of. As I
had some fever upon me, my tutor and my servant took a high and mighty
tone, declaring that I must keep my bed, and drink febrifuges; and I
only escaped blood-letting because Luke had got it into his noddle that
I had already lost at least a gallon. When once Luke got anything into
his head, no other man could get it out again. In rising to prove that
their solicitude was needless, a touch of giddiness laid me on my back,
after which they had their way with me--they and the housekeeper, who
boasted great skill in the compounding of broths of bitter herbs and
seldom had the chance to exercise her art in our healthy house.
So this day I spent in bed, having my tutor for company, my father
being away on some business of his solicitorship, and having (for once)
left no clerkly task for Mr. Butharwick. My old friend was in no way
surprised by the things which I had heard from Mistress Goel.
"Your father knows what has been reported to the earl, and is
beforehand informed of every step which his lordship takes. The
'Solicitor' has trusty spies in the earl's own household. For example,
he knows that a troop of soldiers would have been ordered here ere now
to search for arms, but that they could not reach Temple, either from
Hull or Doncaster, without our being advertised by the marshmen."
For my part, I had no confidence in "spies," who might play a game of
their own, but I held my tongue. Mr. Butharwick had infinite faith in
my father's ability, and it was not for me to shake it.
Mr. Butharwick lay under great apprehension as to what might be the
upshot of the skirmish at Thorne, fearing I might be summoned to appear
before the President of Council on the charge of assaulting those who
were, in a manner, the officers of his Majesty, but took refuge in the
certainty of our knowing the purposes of the earl in time for me to
hide until my father should return, I thought his fears on that score
groundless. A Vavasour could not be condemned without trial, and an
open trial would be dangerous to Sheffield. As it was, the death of
Will Staniforth might be laid to his charge.
Three days later, I received a letter from Staniforth's father, begging
me to come to him. Though I dreaded to witness the grief of an old
man, infirm, and now bereaved of his only child, I set about going.
The water had risen in the marsh since Dick and I crossed, and I meant
to pole over in a punt from Belshaw to Messic Mere, whence a sailing
boat would carry me to Staniforth in two, or at most, three hours. And
Sandtoft lay in my way.
I took Luke with me, or, as I should rather say, Luke went with me, for
he gave me to understand that in future he did not intend me to go
about alone, in which he was strongly upheld by Mr. Butharwick. Not
that I opposed his going, for the words of the gipsy girl had an
influence with me, and I even carried gun and pistol, albeit there was
small likelihood we should meet with an enemy on our voyage.
Here I am put in mind by a critic (the kindest in the world) that
Axholme is greatly changed from what it was at the time of which I
write, and that I ought, for the better understanding of my readers, to
give a more particular account than I have hitherto done of the nature
of the country in my youth. The fault is plain, but not the remedy,
since I am unskilled in description. The best I can do is to prefix a
map, one glance at which will show more than pages of my writing could.
As to the journey to Staniforth, I may say that the space between
Belshaw and Messic Mere was sometimes land, sometimes water, and more
often a mixture of both. In dry seasons, swine could pick up some feed
there, and, now and then, a venturesome cottager turned out a cow,
keeping watch lest it should be bogged. In winter, eels were to be
caught and ducks shot there. Clumps of birch, small oak, poplar, and
alder grew here and there on "holmes" of gravel or sand. Long rows of
reeds marked channels always filled with water; ling and gorse, in
spots, flourished on the drier mounds and ridges.
On this day, as I have said, there was abundant water (though the month
was June, and the summer had been almost rainless), which we supposed
to be due to heavy showers further south, swelling the rivers Trent and
Idle.
Luke took the pole, and pushed quickly across to the mere, where we
changed into a sailing boat, and went gaily to Sandtoft, then an oblong
island about four furlongs by two, or, roughly, some eighty acres in
extent, surrounded by the Idle. Leaving Luke in the boat, I scrambled
up the bank, which sloped steeply, and was palisaded at top to the
height of six feet. I pulled myself up and looked over, and had
scarcely done so when a bullet whizzed over my head, and I saw the man
who had fired it reloading as he came nearer to the fence, and others
swarming out of a shed like angry bees out of a hive. Thinking it
might be as dangerous to retreat as to advance, I drew myself up and
tumbled, rather than jumped, down inside the palisade, and walked
toward the sentinel, calling out, "A friend," which did not hinder his
shooting a second time. Happily, he was no marksman. Being quite
ignorant of Dutch, I continued to announce myself as a friend in
English, German, and French. When we came within arm's length, two of
the men collared me, and one asked in a sort of French what my business
was. My answer so far satisfied them that they let go their hold, and
conducted me to Doctor Goel's abode.
On the way I admired the diligence and skill which had reared a Dutch
town in so short a time. A wide street of substantial houses, mainly
built of wood, it is true, ran from west to east, and at either end of
the street there were workshops, storehouses, and what I took to be an
arsenal. As I afterwards learned, a good deal of the material had been
brought over ready shaped, needing only to be put together on the spot.
Some acres of ground were covered with pumps, wind-mills, sluice-gates,
carts, in sections or complete, and machines and parts of machines of
which I could not guess the use or purpose. One thing I saw certainly.
The men who had embarked in this enterprise would not lightly abandon
it. They had precise and definite plans, and they had expended vast
sums of money. The settlement was fortified as for a siege, and there
were several pieces of artillery. In an open space stood the gallows,
and near by a pole from which flew the Dutch flag, surmounted by the
royal standard of England. To drive these people out of the Isle would
require an army, and a general. As for judicial sentences, I
remembered that it was a legal maxim that possession was nine points of
the law. Looking round on the evidences of the king's authority, and
of the wealth at the disposal of Vermuijden, and of the determination
of the settlers, it came home to me that my father was losing his
labour and spending money in vain. And yet I rejoiced to think that
Mistress Goel was likely to remain in the Isle. It did not occur to me
that I might be banished from it.
My guards led me to the doctor's house, where we found him seated at a
table on which were spread a handful of feathers, a piece of
fish--smelling stale--bits of touchwood, and other rubbish. As we
entered the room, he laid down a queer shaped lens, through which he
had been gazing at some of these things, and greeted me cordially. He
and the men held a short parley, and they turned to go, when I begged
the doctor (in very bad French) to assure them of the harmlessness of
my man Luke, lest they should take it into their heads to shoot the
poor fellow. After further talk with them, the doctor informed me that
one of the men had a little English, and had promised to certify Luke
that all was well with me. The doctor and I talked in a heavy fashion,
bad French on my side, broken English on his, for a few minutes, when
Mistress Goel appeared. She had not tarried to don her finest
clothing, as is the wont of so many damsels, but came in household
garb, her round, white arms bare to the elbow, her head covered by some
kind of hood, which, however, she threw back as she entered the room,
her fair face flushed as by her work, but a smile of welcome in her
eyes--more beautiful than ever in her homely neatness. In the course
of our chat, she told me that the watchmen were on the alert, because
last night some bold fellows had scaled the palisade, broken some
costly machinery, and endeavoured to set fire to the buildings.
Vermuijden's lieutenant had given strict command to shoot every
intruder who did not enter by the gates, of which it seemed there were
two.
"Is it that you wear chain-mail under your clothing, or a scapulary
blest by the Pope or witch's charm," she asked, "that you court danger
as if you loved it?"
I was much too slow-witted to give the right answer, and blundered
something about being preoccupied with the pleasure of seeing her. But
_Ay di mi_! I forget that what I recall with delight will not interest
the reader.
When I rose to take my leave, and Mistress Goel heard whither I was
bound, she inquired whether we had food with us in the boat. On
hearing that we had none, she insisted on supplying us, "For the poor
father will be overcome with sorrow, and never think of your hunger,"
she said. As I would not stay to take a meal with them, she retired to
the kitchen, and came back cloaked, with basket in hand, followed by
her maid, who carried another. Declaring that she would show me the
gate, so that I need not rush on bullets when next I came, she led the
way to a point about a hundred yards further round the bend of the
river. I hailed Luke, who came up and received the baskets with looks
of wonder. Mistress Goel commended Martha's pastry to our attention,
and with "Bon voyage!" she left us.
As we fell to our luncheon, I asked Luke what had passed between him
and the Dutchman who had engaged to assure him of my safety.
"'A leaned o'er fence, and 'a says, 'Icy Ingliss! Allride. Got-tam'
I stared at un like a stuck pig, and 'a says again, 'Allride, Got-tam,'
and grinned from ear to ear, so I knew he meant it friendly."
When we had ended our meal, Luke said, "Master Frank, I've heard cook
say as foreigners can't make pastry."
"I dare say; what of that?"
"Why, it's a thundering lie; that's what it is, a thundering lie! I
never ate such eel-pie in all my days. And ain't she spanking?"
"Who is spanking? Cook?"
"No, no; that Martha. 'Tis a nice, comfortable name. And what a pie
it was!"
Luke's eyes were half closed, as if he were deep in meditation. At
Staniforth, forgetful of his self-imposed duty of keeping guard over
me, he would have remained dreaming in the boat if I had not reminded
him of his duty.
The servant who admitted me whispered, "Master is very bad to-day, sir,
but he will see you."
The old man sat bent forward over a turf fire, though the day was hot.
The room was almost unbearably close to me. I had seen him not more
than twice or thrice before, for he shrank from exposing his
decrepitude to general view. Some years ago he had been thrown over
his horse's head, and, in our country phrase, his back had been broken,
that is, he had sustained an injury to the spine, which had deprived
him of the use of his lower limbs. He was a pitiable object, cowering,
almost bent double, over the fire; his long, white hair hanging about
his shoulders, his beard reaching nearly to his knees, his yellow face
puckered with a thousand wrinkles. But there was a fierce light in the
eyes as he turned toward me and said--
"Hast done right to come, young Vavasour. Look at his grave."
He pointed to the window, from which I saw a newly made mound in the
middle of a field of grass. Then, as if he answered a question, he
said--
"No, the parson didn't gabble lies over him. We put his body into the
ground without parson's lies." Then the old man repeated scornfully,
"'We give Thee hearty thanks, for that it hath pleased Thee to deliver
this our brother out of the miseries of this sinful world.' It might
be said for me, but not for him, my strong, handsome boy, who ought to
have lived sixty years. But I prayed, young Vavasour--I prayed for
death and damnation on his murderer."
The strength and fire with which the feeble old man hurled out the last
words were terrible. Then his tone changed.
"The best son that ever lived he was. Up with the lark, all over the
farm before breakfast, seldom taking his pleasure with his mates.
Gentle as a woman! No woman would ha' been half so gentle with a
peevish old man, often mad with pain. Why should the Lord take the
prop of my age, the one joy of a broken-backed cripple? The Lord
didn't take him, you'll say. No; but He let the devil do it. If I
could but have his murderer here! Oh, that I might grip him by the
throat!"
The father stretched out his arms, the trembling hands clenched, as if
they grasped the neck of the man he hated. Still I said nothing. What
could I say?
"He loved thee, Frank. He made me jealous at times with his talk of
thee. Said how brave thou wert, how warm-hearted, what a good
sportsman, what a gallant gentleman, what a true, staunch friend! And
thou led'st him to his death. It was thy quarrel he died in. He was
no brawler."
"That is true," I said; "he lost his life through coming to my rescue."
"He did not lose his life," the old man screamed; "his life was
taken--foully, treacherously taken, and his blood cries for vengeance.
Wilt be a man and avenge him?" His eyes glittered as he asked the
question.
"You cannot think of asking me to pledge myself to do murder," I
answered.
"Murder! who talks of murder?" he rejoined. "If it were any other man
than the son of my Lord President, I could have him hanged. But what
poor man dare give evidence against him? Curse him. What lawyer in
the isle or county will undertake my case? When justice is not to be
had by the law, we have a right to take it. If God or devil would give
me the use of my limbs, but for a single day, I would take it."
The passion of the old man lent him strength, and he drew himself up,
almost erect, a fearsome sight.
But in a moment he drooped again, and moaned, and I sat silent beside
him.
Then rousing himself he said, "Hast milk in thy veins instead of blood?
Canst not hate the man who killed thy friend--not man to man in honest
fight, but by a dastard word to his villains?"
"God knows I hate him only too well," I replied.
"Dost, Frank, dost? God bless thee for that. Meet him, taunt him,
make him draw on thee, shoot at thee; force a quarrel on him somehow,
and kill him! kill him!--kill him as slowly as thou canst, so it be
sure."
He put his trembling hand on my knee, and thrust his face near to mine,
his eyes blazing under their bushes of dead-white hair.
"Swear it, Frank," he begged. "Swear it, and I shall die happy.
Happy!" he groaned, in mockery of his own word. "Nay, don't speak
yet," he said. "Listen to me. Thy father is wasting his patrimony on
law and lawyers. 'Twill do no good. When did it ever do good to spend
money so? But don't let that trouble thee. If thou'lt be a son to me
so far as to do justice on the man that murdered Will, the Grange shall
be thine, and many a good mortgage besides. Shalt be a rich man, young
Vavasour."
Up to this point, I confess that the old man had been so near gaining
the ascendancy over me, that I might have made him some sort of promise
of vengeance on his enemy, but this offer broke the fascination.
"Your grief has maddened you, Mr. Staniforth, or you would not bribe me
to do murder."
He tore his long hair with rage, and moaned--
"Fool that I was not to remember thy pride and vanity of the Vavasour
breed. Some men are vain, and some are proud, but Vavasours are both.
Thou wilt not avenge the murder of thy friend, who died for thee--for
thee, dost hear? Thou wilt not help his heart-broken old father,
because he spoke of leaving his land to thee? Then go and the devil go
with thee. May an old man's curse cling to thee all the days of thy
life."
He shook with rage, and spoke with a choked voice, foaming at the lip,
so that I dreaded lest he should fall into a fit and die. I hurried
out of the room, and bade the servant, who met me in the hall, hasten
to aid her master. Calling Luke to follow me, I sped down to the
river. What a change to be out in the pure air, under the blue sky,
hearing the twitter of the swallows far above, seeing green fields
where cattle grazed, and the river rippling in the sunshine! And how
miserable to feel that I, who had the freedom of the beautiful earth,
and abounding life in me, could do nothing for the sorrow-crazed father
of my dead friend!