HOW YOUNG TORODE TOOK THE DEVIL OUT OF BLACK BOY
It was a day of days--a perfect Midsummer Day. The sky was blue without a
cloud, the blaze of the gorse was dimming, but the ferns and foxgloves
swung in the breeze, the hedgerows laughed with wild roses and honeysuckle,
and the air was full of life and sweetness and the songs of larks and the
homely humming of bees. And here was I come back from the Florida swamps
and all the perils of the seas, jogging quietly along on that moving
nosegay Gray Robin, with the arms of the fairest maid in all Sercq round my
waist, and the brim of her hat tickling my neck, and her face so close to
my shoulder that it was hard work not to turn and kiss it.
My mind was, set to make the most of my good fortune, but the thought of
young Torode, and of Carette riding back with him, kept coming upon me like
an east wind on a sunny day, and I found myself more tongue-tied than ever
I had been with her before, even of late years.
Did she care for this man? Had his good looks, which I could not deny, cast
dust in her eyes? Could she be blind to his black humours, which, to me,
were more visible even than his good looks?
From what Aunt Jeanne had said, he was by way of being very well off. And
perhaps the results of the Miss Maugers' teachings would incline a girl to
consider such things. I thought they probably would. I know they made me
feel shy and awkward before her, though I told myself furiously that all
that was only a matter of outside polish, and that inside I was as worthy
of her as any, and loved her as none other could. But the outside she could
see, and the inside she could not, and I could not yet tell her, though I
could not but think she must know.
And then, what had I to offer her in place of Torode's solid advantages?
Just myself, and all my heart, and two strong arms. They were good things,
and no one in the world could love her as I did. But, to a girl brought up
as she had been of late, would they be enough? And would these things
satisfy her father, who had always been much of a mystery to us all, and
who might have his own views as to her future, as the education he had
given her seemed to indicate?
I had plenty to think about as we jogged along on Gray Robin, and Carette
was thoughtful too.
Now and again, indeed, the clinging arms would give me a convulsive hug
which set my blood jumping, but that was only when Gray Robin stumbled, and
it meant nothing more than a fear of falling overboard on her part, and I
could not build on it.
We chatted, by snatches, of the party and of things that had happened in my
absence. But of the sweet whispers and little confidences which should set
all riders on Riding Day above all the rest of the world, there were none
between us, and at times we fell to silence and a touch of constraint.
On Eperquerie Common I got down, and led Gray Robin cautiously over the
long green slopes among the cushions of gorse and the waist-high ferns, and
down the rocky way to the knoll above the landing-place. And as we sat on
the soft turf among the empty shells, looking out over the long line of
weather-bitten headlands and tumbled rocks, with the blue sea creaming at
their feet, I suppose I must have heaved a sigh, for Carette laughed and
said--
"Ma fé, but you are lively to-day, Phil."
"I'm sorry," I said. "I was thinking of the old times when we used to
scramble about here as merry as the rock pipits. They were very happy days,
Carette."
"Yes," she nodded, "they were happy days. But we've grown since then."
"One can't help growing, but I don't know that it makes one any happier."
"Tell me all you did out there," she said, and I lay in the sunshine and
told her of our shipwreck, and of the Florida swamps, and of the great city
of London through which I had come on my way home. And then, somehow, our
talk was of the terrible doings in France, not so very many years before,
of which she had never heard much and I only of late. It was probably the
blue line of coast on the horizon which set us to that, and perhaps
something of a desire on my part to show her that, if she had been learning
things at the Miss Maugers, I also had been learning in the greater world
outside.
It was very different from the talk that usually passes between riders on
Riding Day. For every horse that day is supposed to carry three, though one
of them nestles so close between the others that only bits of him may be
seen at times in their eyes and faces.
But it was all no use. With young Torode in my mind, and Jean Le Marchant's
probable intentions respecting Carette, and Carette's own wonderful growth
which seemed to put us on different levels, and the smallness of my own
prospects,--I could not bring myself to venture any loverly talk, though my
heart was full of loving thoughts and growing intention.
I had been telling her of the doings in Paris, and in Nantes and elsewhere,
and she had been dreadfully interested in it all, when suddenly she jumped
up with a sharp--
"Phil, you are horrid to-day. I believe you have been telling me all these
things just because Monsieur Torode is a Frenchman."
"Torode?--Pardie, I had forgotten Torode for the moment! He is too young to
have had any hand in those doings, anyway."
"All the same he is a Frenchman, and it was Frenchmen who did them."
"And you think I was hitting at him behind his back! It is not behind his
back I will hit him if needs be and the time comes. But I had no thought of
him, Carette. These are things I heard but lately, and I thought they might
be of interest to you. Did you ever know me strike a foul blow, Carette?" I
asked hotly.
"No, never! I was wrong, Phil. Let us ride again and forget the heads
tumbling into the baskets and those horrid women knitting and singing."
So we climbed the rocky way, and then I got Gray Robin alongside a rock,
and we mounted without much loss and went our way down the lanes in
somewhat better case. For I was still somewhat warm at her thinking so ill
of me, and she, perceiving it, did her best to make me forget it all.
And now we began to meet other merry riders, and their outspoken, but
mistaken, congratulations testified plainly to the Island feeling in favour
of Island maids mating with Island men, and perhaps made Carette regret her
Solomon-like decision of the night before. It made me feel somewhat foolish
also, at thought of what they would say when they saw her riding back with
young Torode.
A cleverer man would, no doubt, have turned it all to account, but I could
not. All I could do was to carry it off as coolly as possible to save
Carette annoyance, and to affect a lightness and joviality which were
really not in me.
And some of these meetings were full of surprise for Carette, but mostly
they only confirmed her expectations. For girls have sharp eyes in such
matters and generally know how things are going, and I have no doubt she
and Aunt Jeanne talked them over together. And there was not much went on
in Sercq without Aunt Jeanne knowing all about it.
And so it would be--
"Who is this, then? Elie Guérin and--ma fé--Judith Drillot! Now that's odd,
for I always thought--"
"Perhaps they're Only pretending," I murmured, and Carette kicked her
little heels into Gray Robin's ribs so hard that she nearly fell off at his
astonished jump.
"B'jou, Judi! B'jou, Elie! Good luck to you!" she cried, as they drew rein
alongside, their faces radiant with smiles both for themselves and for us.
"Now, mon Gyu, but I am glad to see you again, Phil Carré, and to see you
two together!" said Elie, with the overflowing heartiness of a
fully-satisfied man.
"Oh, we're only just taking a ride to see how other folks are getting on,"
I said. "Carette exchanges me for Monsieur Torode later on. You see I only
got home last night and he had asked her already."
"Mon Gyu!" gasped Judi, and we waved our hands and rode on, leaving them
gaping.
Then it would be--
"Mon Gyu! _That's_ all right! Here are Charles Hamon and Nancy Godfray come
together at last. And high time too! They've been beating about the bush
till we're all tired of watching them. B'jou, Nancy! B'jou, Charles! All
joy to you!"
There were many such meetings, for we could see the riders' heads bobbing
in every lane. And twice we met young Torode, galloping at speed, and
showing to great advantage on Black Boy, whose ruffled black coat was
streaked with sweat and splashed with foam, and who was evidently not
enjoying himself at all.
"I'm getting the devil out of him so that he'll be all quiet for the
afternoon," cried Torode, as he sped past us one time. And Gray Robin tried
to look after his mate, and jogged comfortably along thanking his stars
that if he did feel somewhat of a fool, he had decent quiet folk on his
back, and was not as badly off as some he knew that day.
So we came along the horse tracks down by Pointe Robert and crossed the
head of the Harbour Road, past Derrible, and heard the sea growling at the
bottom of the Creux, and then over Hog's Back into Dixcart Valley, and so,
about noon, into the road over the Common which led to the Coupée.
Most of our friends were already there,--some on this side waiting to
cross, the more venturesome sitting in the heather and bracken on the
farther side, with jokes and laughter and ironical invitations to the
laggards to take their courage in their hands and come over.
There was quite a mob in the roadway on the Common, the girls sitting on
their horses, most of the men on foot.
"How is the path?" I asked, as I got down for a look.
"I've seen it better and I've seen it worse," said Charles Vaudin. "But,
all the same, you know,--on horseback--" and he shook his head doubtfully.
"When it's only your own feet you have to look after it's right enough,"
said Elie Guérin. "But when it's a horse's and they're four feet apart it's
a different kind of game. I'm going to lead over, let those others say what
they will. Will you walk, Judi, or will you ride? I can lead the old boy
all right."
"I can trust you, mon gars," said the girl, and kept her seat while Elie
led the horse slowly and cautiously over the narrow way, with possible
death in every foot of it. And all the rest watched anxiously.
The path was at this time about four feet wide in most places, crumbly and
weather-worn here and there, but safe enough for ordinary foot traffic. But
even so--without a rail on either side, with the blue sea foaming and
chafing among the rocks three hundred feet below, and horribly visible on
both sides at once--the twisted path when you were on it felt no more than
a swinging thread.
It was not every head that could stand it, and small blame to those that
could not.
Here and there, in the three hundred feet stretch, great rock pinnacles
stood out from the precipitous depths and overshadowed the path, and
encouraged the wayfarer by offering him posts of vantage to be attained one
by one. But they were far apart, and at best it was an awesome place even
on foot, while with a horse the dangers were as plain as the path itself.
Still it was a point of honour to cross the Coupée on Riding Day, and some
even compassed it cautiously without dismounting, and took much credit to
themselves, though others might call it by other names.
Some of the girls preferred to take no risks, and got down and walked
wisely and safely, amid the laughter and good-humoured banter of the elect,
across the gulf. Most, however, showed their confidence in their swains,
and at the same time trebled their anxieties, by keeping their seats and
allowing their horses to be led across.
Young Torode came galloping across the Common while Gray Robin and Carette
and I were still waiting our turn. He reined in Black Boy with a firm hand,
and the ruffled black sides worked like bellows, and the angry black head
jerked restively, and the quick-glancing eyes looked troubled and vicious.
Torode laughed derisively as Elie Guérin set out with cautious step to lead
his old horse over, with Judith Drillot clutching the saddle firmly and
wearing a face that showed plainly that it was only a stern sense of duty
to Elie that kept her up aloft.
"Ma foi!" laughed Torode. "He would do it better in a boat. It's well seen
that Monsieur Guérin was not born to the saddle. Has no one ridden across
yet?"
"But yes,--Helier Godfray rode over all right. All the same--" said one,
with a shrug and shake of the head.
"It's as easy as any other road if you've got a steady head and a firm
hand," said Torode.
"Will you ride, Carette, or walk?" I asked. "I shall lead Gray Robin."
She looked down into my eyes for one moment, and I looked up into hers. She
did not like the Coupée, I knew, but she would not put me to shame.
"I will ride," she said.
"You're never going to lead across, Carré?" cried Torode. "And with a horse
like a Dutch galliot! Man alive! let me take him over for you!--Shall I?"
and he bustled forward, looking eagerly up at Carette.
"Stand back!" I said brusquely. "You'll have quite enough to do to take
yourself across, I should say," and we were off.
"I'll bring you back on Black Boy," cried Torode consolingly to Carette.
Gray Robin's mild eyes glanced apprehensively into the depths as we went
slowly over, and his ears and nostrils twitched to and fro at the growl of
the surf down below on either side. I held him firmly by the head and
soothed him with encouraging words. The old horse snuffled between
gratitude and disgust, and Carette clung tightly up above, and vowed that
she would not cross on Black Boy whatever Torode might say.
She was devoutly thankful, I could see, when Gray Robin stepped safely onto
the spreading bulk of Little Sercq. I lifted her down, and loosed the old
horse's bit and set him free for a crop among the sweet short grasses of
the hillside, while we sat down with the rest to watch the others come
over.
Caution was the order of the day. Most of the girls kept their seats and
braved the passage in token of confidence in their convoys. Some risked all
but accident by meekly footing it, and accepted the ironical
congratulations on the other side as best they might.
Young Torode had waited his turn with impatience. He and Black Boy were on
such terms that the latter would have made a bolt for home if the grasp on
his bridle had relaxed for one moment. Again and again his restlessness had
suffered angry check which served only to increase it. Neither horse nor
rider was in any state for so critical a passage as the one before them.
There was no community of feeling between them, except of dislike, and the
backbone of a common enterprise is mutual trust and good feeling.
To do him that much justice, Torode must have known that under the
circumstances he was taking unusual risk. But he had confidence in his own
skill and mastery, and no power on earth would have deterred him from the
attempt.
He leaped on Black Boy, turned him from the gulf and rode him up the
Common. Then he turned again and came down at a hand gallop, and reaped his
reward in the startled cries and anxious eyes of the onlookers. The safe
sitters in the heather on the farther side sprang up to watch, and held
their breath.
"The fool!" slipped through more clenched teeth than mine.
The stones from Black Boy's heels went rattling down into the depths on
either side. The first pinnacles were gained in safety. Just beyond them
the path twisted to the right. Black Boy's stride had carried him too near
the left-hand pillar. An angry jerk of the reins emphasised his mistake. He
resented it, as he had resented much in his treatment that morning already.
His head came round furiously, his heels slipped in the crumbling gravel,
he kicked out wildly for safer holding, and in a moment he was over.
At the first feel of insecurity behind, Torode slipped deftly out of the
saddle. He still held the reins and endeavoured to drag the poor beast up.
But Black Boy's heels were kicking frantically, now on thin air, now for a
second against an impossible slope of rock which offered no foothold. For a
moment he hung by his forelegs curved in rigid agony, his nostrils wide and
red, his eyes full of frantic appeal, his ears flat to his head, his poor
face pitiful in its desperation. Torode shouted to him, dragged at the
reins--released them just in time.
Those who saw it never forgot that last look on Black Boy's face, never
lost the rending horror of his scream as his forelegs gave and he sank out
of sight, never forgot the hideous sound of his fall as he rolled down the
cliff to the rocks below.
The girls hid their faces and sank sobbing into the heather. The men cursed
Torode volubly, and regretted that he had not gone with Black Boy.
And it was none but black looks that greeted him when, after standing a
moment, he came on across the Coupée and joined the rest.
"It is a misfortune," he said brusquely, as he came among us.
"It is sheer murder and brutality," said Charles Vaudin roughly.
"Guyabble! It's you that ought to be down there, not yon poor brute," said
Guérin.
"Tuts then! A horse! I'll make him good to Hamon."
"And, unless I'm mistaken, you promised him not to ride the Coupée," I said
angrily, for I knew how George Hamon would feel about Black Boy.
"Diable! I believe I did, but I forgot all about it in seeing you others
crawling across. Will you lend me your horse to ride back, Carré?
Mademoiselle rides home with me."
"Mademoiselle does not, and I won't lend you a hair of him."
"That was the understanding. Mademoiselle promised."
"Well, she will break her promise,--with better reason than you had. I
shall see her safely home."
"Right, Phil! Stick to that!" said the others; and Torode looking round
felt himself in a very small minority, and turned sulkily and walked back
across the Coupée.
The pleasure of the day was broken. Black Boy's face and scream and fall
were with us still, and presently we all went cautiously back across the
narrow way. And no girl rode, but each one shuddered as she passed the spot
where the loose edge of the cliff was scored with two deep grooves; and we
others, looking down, saw a tumbled black mass lying in the white surf
among the rocks.