A FIGHTING BOUT.
After that mighty crash, every body with any sense left in its head went
home. There was more to talk about than Perlycross had come across in
half a century. And the worst of it was, that every blessed man had his
own troubles first to attend to; which is no fun at all, though his
neighbour's are so pleasant. The Fair, in the covered market-place, had
long been a dreary concern, contending vainly against the stronger charm
of the wrestling booth, and still more vainly against the furious
weather. Even the biggest and best fed flares--and they were quite as
brisk in those days as they are now--gifted though they might be with
rage and vigour, lost all self-control, and dashed in yellow forks, here
there and everywhere, singeing sometimes their own author's whiskers.
Like a man who lives too fast, they killed themselves; and the poor
Cheap-Jacks, the Universal Oracles, the Benevolent Bounty-men, chucking
guineas right and left, the Master of Cupid's bower, who supplied every
lass with a lord, and every lad with a lady having a lapful of a hundred
thousand pounds--sadly they all strapped up, and lit their pipes, and
shivered at that terrible tramp before them, cursing the weather, and
their wives, and even the hallowed village of Perlycross.
Though the coaches had forsaken this ancient track from Exeter to
London, and followed the broader turnpike roads, there still used to be
every now and then a string of packhorses, or an old stage-waggon, not
afraid of hills and making no fuss about time, but straggling at leisure
through the pristine thoroughfares, thwarted less with toll-bars.
Notably, old Hill's _God-be-with-us_ van left Exeter on Tuesdays, with
the goodwill of three horses, some few hours in the afternoon, and might
be trusted to appear at Perlycross according to the weather and
condition of the roads. What more comfortable course of travel could
there be for any one who understood it, and enjoyed sound sleep, and a
good glass of ale at intervals, with room enough to dine inside if he
thought fit, than the _God-be-with-us_ van afforded? For old Hill was
always in charge of it himself, and expected no more than a penny a
mile, and perhaps the power to drink the good health of any peaceful
subject of the King, who might be inclined to come along with him, and
listen to his moving tales. The horses were fat, and they rested at
night, and took it easily in the daytime; and the leader had three
little bells on his neck, looking, when you sat behind him, like a pair
of scales; and without them he always declined to take a step, and the
wheelers backed him up in that denial. For a man not bound to any
domineering hour, or even to a self-important day, the broad-wheeled
waggon belonging to old Hill--"Old-as-the-Hills" some flippant younkers
called him--was as good an engine as need be, for crossing of the
country, when it wanted to be crossed, and halting at any town of
hospitable turn.
That same Shrove-Tuesday,--and it is well to mark the day, because
Master Hill was so superior to dates--this man who asserted the dignity
of our race, by not allowing matter to disturb him, was coming down hill
with his heavy drag on, in a road that was soft from the goodness of the
soil; when a man with two legs made of better stuff than ours, either
came out of a gate across the van, or else fairly walked it down by
superior speed behind. "Ship ahoy!" he shouted; and old Hill was wide
awake, for he had two or three barrels that would keep rolling into the
small of his back--as he called it, with his usual oblivion of
chronology--and so he was enabled to discern this man, and begin at his
leisure to consider him.
If the man had shouted again, or shown any other symptom of small hurry,
the driver--or properly speaking the drifter, for the horses did their
own driving--would have felt some disappointment in him, as an inferior
fellow-creature. But the man on foot, or at least on stumps, was in no
more hurry than old Hill himself, and steadfastly trudged to the bottom
of the hill, looking only at the horses--a very fine sign.
The land being Devon, it is needless to say that there was no
inconsistency about it. Wherever one hill ends, there another begins,
with just room enough between them for a horse to spread his legs, and
shake himself with self-approbation. And he is pretty sure to find a
crystal brook, purling across the road, and twinkling bright temptation
to him.
"Hook up skid, and then 'e can jump in;" said old Hill in the hollow
where the horses backed, and he knew by the clank that it had been done,
and then by a rattle on the floor behind him, that the stranger had
embarked by the chains at the rear. After about a mile or so of soft low
whistling, in which he excelled all Carriers, old Hill turned round with
a pleasant grin, for there was a great deal of good about him.
"Going far?" He asked, as an opening of politeness, rather than of
curiosity.
"Zort of a place, called Perlycrass;" replied the wooden-leg'd man, who
was sitting on a barrel. Manifestly an ancient sailor, weather-beaten,
and taciturn, the residue of a strong and handsome man.
The whole of this had been as nearly to the Carrier's liking, as the
words and deeds of any man can be to any other's. Therefore before
another mile had been travelled, old Hill turned round again, with a
grin still sweeter.
"Pancake day, bain't it?" was his very kind enquiry.
"B'lieve it be;" replied the other, in the best and truest British
style. After this no more was lacking to secure old Hill's regard than
the very thing the sailor did. There was a little flap of canvas, like a
loophole in the tilt, fitted for the use of chawers, and the cleanliness
of the floor. Timberlegs after using this, with much deliberation and
great skill, made his way forward, and in deep silence poked old Hill
with his open tobacco-box. If it were not silver, it was quite as good
to look at, and as bright as if it held the freedom of the City; the
tobacco, moreover, was of goodly reek, and a promise of inspiration such
as never flows through Custom-house.
"Thank 'e, I'll have a blade bumbai. Will 'e zit upon that rope of
onions?" The sailor shook his head; for the rim of a barrel, though apt
to cut, cuts evenly like a good schoolmaster.
"'Long of Nelson?" Master Hill enquired, pointing to the places where
the feet were now of deputy. The old Tar nodded; and then with that
sensitive love of accuracy which marks the Tar, growled out, "Leastways,
wan of them."
"And what come to t'other wan?" Master Hill was capable of really large
human interest.
"Had 'un off, to square the spars, and for zake of vamily." He had no
desire to pursue the subject, and closed it by a big squirt through the
flap.
Old Hill nodded with manly approbation. Plymouth was his birthplace; and
he knew that other sons of Nelson had done this; for it balanced their
bodies, and composed their minds with another five shillings a week for
life, and the sale of the leg covered all expenses.
"You'm a very ingenious man;" he glanced as he spoke, at the sailor's
jury-rig; "I'll war'n no doctor could a' vitted 'e up, like thiccy."
"Vitted 'un myself with double swivel. Can make four knots an hour now.
They doctors can undo 'e; but 'em can't do 'e up. A cove can't make sail
upon a truck-head."
"And what do 'e say to the weather, Cap'n?" Master Hill enquired of his
passenger, when a few more compliments had passed, and the manes of the
horses began to ruffle, and the tilt to sway and rattle with the waxing
storm.
"Think us shall have as big a gale of wind as ever come out of the
heavens," the sailor replied, after stumping to the tail of the van, and
gazing windwards; "heave to pretty smart, and make all snug afore
sunset, is my advice. Too much sail on this here little craft, for such
a blow as us shall have to-night."
"Can't stop short of Taunton town." Old Hill was famed for his
obstinacy.
"Can 'e take in sail? Can 'e dowse this here canvas? Can 'e reef it then
somehow?" The old man shook his head. "Tell 'e what then, shipmate--if
'e carry on for six hours more, this here craft will be on her
beam-ends, wi'out mainsail parteth from his lashings, sure as my name is
Dick Herniman."
This Tar of the old school, better known as "timber-leg'd Dick,"
disembarked from the craft, whose wreck he had thus predicted, at a
turning betwixt Perliton and Perlycross, and stumped away up a narrow
lane, at a pace quite equal to that of the _God-be-with-us_ van. The
horses looked after him, as a specimen of biped hitherto beyond their
experience; and old Hill himself, though incapable of amazement (which
is a rapid process) confessed that there were some advantages in this
form of human pedal, as well as fine economy of cloth and leather.
"How 'a doth get along, nimbler nor I could!" the Carrier reflected, as
his nags drove on again. "Up to zummat ratchety, I'll be bound he be
now. A leary old salt as ever lived. Never laughed once, never showed a
smile, but gotten it all in his eyes he have: and the eyes be truer
folks than the lips. Enough a'most to tempt a man to cut off 's own two
legses."
Some hours later than this, and one hour later than the downfall of the
wrestler's roof, the long market-place, forming one side of the
street--a low narrow building set against the churchyard wall, between
the school and the lych-gate, looked as dismal, and dreary, and
deserted, as the bitterest enemy of Fairs could wish. The torrents of
rain, and fury of the wind, had driven all pleasure-seekers, in a
grievously drenched and battered plight, to seek for wiser comfort; and
only a dozen or so of poor creatures, either too tipsy to battle with
the wind, or too reckless in their rags to care where they were,
wallowed upon sacks, and scrabbled under the stanchion-boards, where the
gaiety had been. The main gates, buckled back upon their heavy hinges,
were allowed to do nothing in their proper line of business, until the
Church-clock should strike twelve, for such was the usage; though as
usual nobody had ever heard who ordained it. A few oil-lamps were still
in their duty, swinging like welted horn-poppies in the draught, and
shedding a pale and spluttering light.
The man who bore the keys had gone home three times, keeping under hele
with his oil-skins on, to ask his wife--who was a woman of some
mark--whether he might not lock the gates, and come home and have his
bit of bacon. But she having strong sense of duty, and a good log
blazing, and her cup of tea, had allowed him very generously to warm
his hands a little, and then begged him to think of his family. This was
the main thing that he had to do; and he went forth again into the dark,
to do it.
Meanwhile, without anybody to take heed (for the Sergeant, ever
vigilant, was now on guard in Spain), a small but choice company of
human beings, was preparing for action in the old school-porch, which
stood at the back of the building. Staffs they had, and handcuffs too,
and supple straps, and loops of cord; all being men of some learning in
the law, and the crooked ways of people out of harmony therewith. If
there had been light enough to understand a smile, they would have
smiled at one another, so positive were they that they had an easy job,
and so grudgeful that the money should cut up so small. The two worthy
constables of Perlycross felt certain that they could do it better by
themselves; and the four invoked from Perliton were vexed, to have to
act with village lubbers. Their orders were not to go nigh the
wrestling, or show themselves inside the market-place, but to keep
themselves quiet, and shun the weather, and what was a great deal worse,
the beer. Every now and then, the ideas of jolly noises, such as were
appropriate to the time, were borne upon the rollicking wings of the
wind into their silent vestibule, suggesting some wiping of lips, which,
alas, were ever so much too dry already. At a certain signal, they were
all to hasten across the corner of the churchyard, at the back of the
market-place, and enter a private door at the east end of the building,
after passing through the lych-gate.
Suddenly the rain ceased, as if at sound of trumpet; like the mouth of a
cavern the sky flew open, and the wind, leaping three points of the
compass, rushed upon the world from the chambers of the west. Such a
blast, as had never been felt before, filled the whole valley of the
Perle, and flung mowstack, and oakwood, farmhouse, and abbey, under the
sweep of its wings as it flew. The roar of the air overpowered the crash
of the ruin it made, and left no man the sound of his own voice to
himself.
These great swoops of wind always lighten the sky; and as soon as the
people blown down could get up, they were able to see the church-tower
still upright, though many men swore that they heard it go rock. Very
likely it rocked, but could they have heard it?
In the thick of the din of this awful night, when the church-clock
struck only five instead of ten--and it might have struck fifty, without
being heard--three men managed, one by one, and without any view of one
another, to creep along the creases of the storm, and gain the gloomy
shelter of the market-place. "Every man for himself," is the universal
law, when the heavens are against the whole race of us. Not one of these
men cared to ask about the condition of the other two, nor even expected
much to see them, though each was more resolute to be there himself,
because of its being so difficult.
"Very little chance of Timberlegs to-night," said one to another, as two
of them stood in deep shadow against the back wall, where a voice could
be heard if pitched in the right direction; "he could never make way
again' a starm like this."
"Thou bee'st a liar," replied a gruff voice, as the clank of metal on
the stone was heard. "Timberlegs can goo, where flesh and bone be
mollichops." He carried a staff like a long handspike, and prodded the
biped on his needless feet, to make him wish to be relieved of them.
"Us be all here now," said the third man, who seemed in the wavering
gloom to fill half the place. "What hast thou brought us for,
Timber-leg'd Dick?"
"Bit of a job, same as three months back. Better than clam-pits, worn't
it now? Got a good offer for thee too, Harvey, for that old ramshackle
place. Handy hole for a louderin' job, and not far from them clam-pits."
"Ay, so a' be. Never thought of that. And must have another coney, now
they wise 'uns have vound out Nigger's Nock. Lor' what a laugh we had,
Jem and I, at they fules of Perlycrass!"
"Then Perlycross will have the laugh at thee. Harvey Tremlett, and James
Kettel, I arrest 'e both, in the name of His Majesty the King."
Six able-bodied men (who had entered, unheard in the roar of the gale,
and unseen in the gloom), stood with drawn staffs, heels together, and
shoulder to shoulder, in a semi-circle, enclosing the three
conspirators.
"Read thy warrant aloud," said Dick Herniman, striking his handspike
upon the stones, and taking command in right of intellect; while the
other twain laid their backs against the wall, and held themselves ready
for the issue.
Dick had hit a very hard nail on the head. None of these constables had
been young enough to undergo Sergeant Jakes, and thenceforth defy the
most lofty examiner.
"Didn't hear what 'e zed," replied head-constable, making excuse of the
wind, which had blown him but little of the elements. But he lowered his
staff, and held consultation.
"Then I zay it again," shouted Timber-leg'd Dick, stumping forth with a
power of learning, for he had picked up good leisure in hospitals; "if
thou representest the King, read His Majesty's words, afore taking his
name in vain."
These six men were ready, and resolute enough, to meet any bodily
conflict; but the literary crisis scared them.
"Can e' do it, Jack?" "Don't know as I can." "Wish my boy Bill was
here." "Don't run in my line"--and so on.
"If none on 'e knows what he be about," said the man with the best legs
to stand upon, advancing into the midst of them, "I know a deal of the
law; and I tell 'e, as a friend of the King, who hath lost two legs for
'un, in the Royal Navy, there can't be no lawful arrest made here. And
the liberty of the subject cometh in, the same as a' doth again'
highwaymen. Harvey Tremlett, and Jem Kettel, the law be on your side, to
'protect the liberty of the subject.'"
This was enough for the pair who had stood, as law-abiding Englishmen,
against the wall, with their big fists doubled, and their great hearts
doubting. "Here goo'th for the liberty of the subject," cried Harvey
Tremlett, striding forth; "I shan't strike none as don't strike me. But
if a doth, a' must look out."
The constables wavered, in fear of the law, and doubt of their own duty;
for they had often heard that every man had a right to know what he was
arrested for. Unluckily one of them made a blow with his staff at Harvey
Tremlett; then he dropped on the flags with a clump in his ear, and the
fight in a moment was raging.
Somebody knocked Jemmy Kettel on the head, as being more easy to deal
with; and then the blood of the big man rose. Three stout fellows fell
upon him all together, and heavy blows rung on the drum of his chest,
from truncheons plied like wheel-spokes. Forth flew his fist-clubs right
and left, one of them meeting a staff in the air, and shattering it back
into its owner's face. Never was the peace of the King more broken; no
man could see what became of his blows, legs and arms went about like
windmills, substance and shadow were all as one, till the substance
rolled upon the ground, and groaned.
This dark flight resembled the clashing of a hedgerow in the fury of a
midnight storm; when the wind has got in and cannot get out, when
ground-ash, and sycamore, pole, stub, and saplin, are dashing and
whirling against one another, and even the sturdy oak-tree in the trough
is swaying, and creaking, and swinging on its hole.
"Zoonder not to kill e'er a wan of 'e, I 'ood. But by the Lord, if 'e
comes they byses"--shouted Harvey Tremlett, as a rope was thrown over
his head from behind, but cut in half a second by Herniman--"more of 'e,
be there?" as the figures thickened--"have at 'e then, wi' zummat more
harder nor visties be!"
He wrenched from a constable his staff, and strode onward, being already
near the main gate now. As he whirled the heavy truncheon round his
head, the constables hung back, having two already wounded, and one in
the grip of reviving Jem, who was rolling on the floor with him.
"Zurrender to His Majesty;" they called out, preferring the voluntary
system.
"A varden for the lot of 'e!" the big man said, and he marched in a
manner that presented it.
But not so did he walk off, blameless and respectable. He had kept his
temper wonderfully, believing the law to be on his side, after all he
had done for the County.
Now his nature was pressed a little too hard for itself, when just as he
had called out--"coom along, Jem; there be nort to stop 'e, Timberlegs;"
retiring his forces with honour--two figures, hitherto out of the moil,
stood across him at the mouth of exit.
"Who be you?" he asked, with his anger in a flame; for they showed
neither staff of the King, nor warrant. "Volunteers, be 'e? Have a care
what be about."
"Harvey Tremlett, here you stop." Said a tall man, square in front of
him. But luckily for his life, the lift of the sky showed that his hair
was silvery.
"Never hits an old man. You lie there;" Tremlett took him with his left
hand, and laid him on the stones. But meanwhile the other flung his arms
around his waist.
"Wult have a zettler? Then thee shall," cried the big man, tearing him
out like a child, and swinging his truncheon, for to knock him on the
head, and Jemmy Fox felt that his time was come.
Down came the truncheon, like a paviour's rammer, and brains would have
weltered on the floor like suds, but a stout arm dashed across, and
received the crash descending.
"Pumpkins!" cried the smiter, wondering much what he had smitten, as two
bodies rolled between his legs and on the stones. "Coom along, Jemmy
boy. Nare a wan to stop 'e."
The remnant of the constables upon their legs fell back. The Lord was
against them. They had done their best. The next job for them was to
heal their wounds, and get an allowance for them, if they could.
Now the human noise was over, but the wind roared on, and the rushing of
the clouds let the stars look down again. Tremlett stood victorious in
the middle of the gateway. Hurry was a state of mind beyond his
understanding. Was everybody satisfied? Well, no one came for more. He
took an observation of the weather, and turned round.
"Shan't bide here no longer," he announced. "Dick, us'll vinish up our
clack to my place. Rain be droud up, and I be off."
"No, Harvey Tremlett, you will not be off. You will stay here like a
man, and stand your trial."
Mr. Penniloe's hand was upon his shoulder, and the light of the stars,
thrown in vaporous waves, showed the pale face firmly regarding him.
"Well, and if I says no to it, what can 'e do?"
"Hold you by the collar, as my duty is." The Parson set his teeth, and
his delicate white fingers tightened their not very formidable grasp.
"Sesh!" said the big man, with a whistle, and making as if he could not
move. "When a man be baten, a' must gie in. Wun't 'e let me goo, Passon?
Do 'e let me goo."
"Tremlett, my duty is to hold you fast. I owe it to a dear friend of
mine, as well as to my parish."
"Well, you be a braver man than most of 'em, I zimmeth. But do 'e tell a
poor chap, as have no chance at all wi' 'e, what a' hath dooed, to be
lawed for 'un so crule now."
"Prisoner, as if you did not know. You are charged with breaking open
Colonel Waldron's grave, and carrying off his body."
"Oh Lord! Oh Lord in Heaven!" shouted Harvey Tremlett. "Jem Kettel, hark
to thiccy! Timberlegs, do 'e hear thic? All they blessed constables, as
has got their bellyful, and ever so many wise gen'lemen too, what do 'e
think 'em be arter us for? Arter us for resurrectioneering! Never heered
tell such a joke in all my life. They hosebirds to _Ivy-bush_ cries
'Carnwall for ever!' But I'm blest if I don't cry out 'Perlycrass for
ever!' Oh Lord, oh Lord! Was there ever such a joke? Don't 'e hold me,
sir, for half a minute, just while I has out my laugh--fear I should
throw 'e down with shaking so."
Timber-leg'd Dick came up to his side, and not being of the laughing
kind, made up for it by a little hornpipe in the lee; his mental feet
striking, from the flints pitched there, sparks enough to light a dozen
pipes; while Kettel, though damaged severely about the mouth, was still
able to compass a broad and loud guffaw.
"Prisoners," Mr. Penniloe said severely, for he misliked the ridicule of
his parish; "this is not at all a matter to be laughed at. The evidence
against you is very strong, I fear."
"Zurrender, zurrender, to His Majesty the King!" cried Tremlett, being
never much at argument. "Constables, if 'ee can goo, take charge. But I
'ont have no handicuffs, mind. Wudn't a gie'd 'ee a clout, if I had
knawed it. Zarve 'ee right though, for not rading of thic
warrant-papper. Jemmy boy, you zurrender to the King; and I be Passon's
prisoner. Honour bright fust though--nort to come agin' us, unless a' be
zet down in warrant-papper. Passon, thee must gi'e thy word for that.
Timberlegs, coom along for layyer."
"Certainly, I give my word, as far as it will go, that no other charge
shall be brought against you. The warrant is issued for that crime only.
Prove yourselves guiltless of that, and you are free."
"Us won't be very long in prison then. A day or two bain't much odds to
we."