THE RACE.
All the adventures of the preceding night appeared but a dream, when
early next morning--at least so early as I could hope to find any
high officials at their office--I rode through the crowded streets of
London, and delivered the despatch of Commodore Howe at the Admiralty.
"Immediate" being written on the envelope, I had to remain in a
waiting-room for more than an hour, after which the answer was
entrusted to me, addressed, "On H.M. Service," to Commodore Howe. As
I afterwards learned from the public prints, this document, among
other instructions, empowered him to avail himself of "the services
and information of the two French deserters named on the
margin--Theophile Damien and Benoit Bossoit."
I consigned it to my sabretasche, remounted, and quitted London at a
quick pace about two p.m.
On leaving the greater thoroughfares behind, when traversing the
suburbs I easily lost my way, and at a tavern, near which a number of
fellows in their shirtsleeves were playing skittles, I drew up to
inquire the way to Portsmouth.
I questioned one who was seated at the door smoking; he was a man
with a very sullen and forbidding expression of face, who had his
left hand thrust into the breast of his vest. He wore a shabby
snuff-coloured suit with large steel buttons; his legs were incased
in long riding-boots spotted with mud, and I perceived the brass
butts of a pair of pistols, peeping from his square flapped side
pockets.
I was somewhat surprised when this sinister-looking stranger, after
giving me a long and ferocious stare, started from his seat, uttered
a deep imprecation, and entered the house. I then called to the
skittle players, and repeated my question to them.
On this they simultaneously abandoned their game, and gathered about
me.
"The Portsmouth road lies straight before you," said one; "be you
going to France, my lad?"
On my replying in the affirmative, they gave a simultaneous cheer,
and, amid cries of "Old England for ever!" and "Down with the Johnny
Crapauds!" I had to drink with them all, and they continued to wave
their hats as long as I was in sight, while galloping along the road
they had indicated.
Being anxious to reach Portsmouth and to rejoin, I rode at a hard
trot; the road was good, the country open and level. Two mounted
persons appeared at times behind me; but I continued to keep in
advance of them. Some association of ideas made me think of the
sulky fellow I had seen at the tavern door, and of the two highwaymen
of the preceding night; but after a time I perceived that one of the
riders was a lady, and that both were coming along at a rasping pace,
as if determined not to be distanced and left behind by me.
I had taken the Epsom road, thus a ten miles' ride brought me to
Ewell, near which, in a pleasant green lane, where the plum and apple
trees that bordered the way intertwined their branches overhead--one
of those quiet, dewy, and shady green lanes that are so peculiarly
English, where the bees hum, and the gossamer webs are spun--I drew
bridle to breathe my horse.
I now heard the sound of hoofs coming rapidly along the road, and in
a minute after, there swept past me the fair traveller I had seen,
and some yards behind her rode a man in livery. They were both
admirably mounted on blood horses. Her ample skirt, her long fair
hair, and the ostrich plume in her hat streamed behind her. I could
see with a glance that she had her horse well in hand, though it flew
almost at racing speed, causing mine to rear and strain upon the bit,
as she passed me with a merry ringing laugh of delight, and with a
flourish of her whip, so much as to say, "A challenge--we have
distanced you at last!"
This I was not slow in understanding, and feeling somewhat piqued,
put spurs to my nag, and dashed off in pursuit by the highway that
led to Epsom.
Twice I saw her looking back, which her valet, though a good
horseman, scarcely dared to do; and each time she plied her little
riding-switch with no very sparing hand, and like a girl of spirit.
Copsewood in full foliage, thatched cottages half buried among ivy,
hops and flowers, ripe corn fields, and red brick houses, seemed to
fly past, and in a very short space we found ourselves traversing
Banstead Downs. I gained on them fast, for my horse had been
thoroughly breathed. I soon passed the livery servant, and a few
more bounds brought me neck and neck with his mistress, who turned to
me laughingly, a flush--the genuine flush of youth, pleasure, and
exercise glowing in her soft cheek--and simultaneously we pulled in
our horses on recognising each other.
She was the charming blonde I had met on Wandsworth Common--the
heroine of my last night's adventure!
My cavalry cloak was rolled and strapped to my saddlebow; and I
thought there could be no mistaking my private's uniform now, and
indeed, her countenance changed very perceptibly as she said, half
breathlessly--
"Good morning, my friend. So I have actually been running away from
the person to whose courage mamma and I owe so much!"
"It would almost seem so," said I, bowing.
"Believe me, sir, I knew not that it was you," she resumed, colouring
deeply, and casting down her eyes (how fair her soft loveliness
looked by day!). "I saw but a horseman before me, and could not
resist the temptation of passing him."
"Nor could I resist the desire of accepting your very palpable
challenge," I replied, just as the valet came up, fearfully blown,
and in his crimsoned face I recognised the features of the valiant
Mr. John Trot.
"But I was not altogether trying a race with you," said the young
lady, still blushing deeply, and beginning to move her horse away; "I
was riding fast to overtake mamma, who is in yonder carriage. She is
come to drink the waters of Ashted Spa, and I doubt not will be glad
to tender you once again her thanks."
With these words, and with an air that seemed to say, "This
interview, or this mistake, has lasted long enough," she bowed and
urged her horse towards the carriage, which was standing about fifty
paces distant on the high road, and from a window of which I saw a
lady observing us.
The young girl's figure showed to perfection on horseback, and her
riding-habit, which was of light green cloth, trimmed with narrow
gold braid, suited well her blonde beauty and golden-coloured hair.
She wore a broad black beaver hat, from which a single ostrich
feather drooped gracefully on her left shoulder. Loosened by the
roughness of the gallop, her soft hair flowed over her neck in silky
ripples--I know no more fitting term--of light golden brown, that
glittered in the sunshine. Her riding-gauntlets were of yellow
leather, and her hands, as they grasped the reins and riding-switch,
seemed small, compact, and beautifully formed.
"I thought we had lost you, madcap!" said her mamma, with annoyance
in her tone and manner; "what caused you to gallop thus along the
Downs, as if riding a race?"
"I was running something very like it, certainly, mamma; but do you
not see that we have been overtaken by--the--the gentleman who saved
us from robbery last night?"
"I am hastening back to Portsmouth, madam," said I, with a profound
salute. "In my ignorance of the country I have taken the road to
Epsom instead of that which leads to Cobham, and to this mistake I
owe the good fortune of meeting with you again."
"You had not time, probably, to visit us before leaving town this
morning?" said she.
"I had the mischance, madam, to lose your card."
At that moment, a man of sinister aspect, and shabbily attired, but
with holsters at his saddle, looked fixedly at us, as he rode slowly
past, on a bald-faced bay horse.
His _left_ hand was bound up by a red handkerchief, and,
consequently, he held the reins of his bridle with the _right_. He
glared at me, with a glance of such undisguised ferocity, that I had
not a doubt he was the wounded rascal of last night's adventure--the
same man, he of the snuff-coloured suit and steel buttons, whom I had
seen with the skittle players in the suburbs of London.
Was he dogging me?
If so, 'twere well to be prepared. All this flashed upon my mind
with the usual rapidity of thought; but I was too much interested by
my new friends to attend to him then, and, ere our interview was
over, he had disappeared upon the way to Guildford--the road _I was
to pursue_.
"Zounds! I must look out," thought I, "or there may be a blank in
Lindsay's muster-roll to-morrow."