It was too dark to do much that night, but I spent an hour in picking
mortar from the bricks into which the lowest iron bar had been let.
After a brief sleep I woke in the first of the light (at about one
o'clock) ready to go at it again. My fever was hot upon me. I don't
think that I was quite sane that day; but all my reason seemed to burn
up into one bright point, escape, escape at all costs, then, at the
instant. I must tell you that the chimney, like most old chimneys, was
big enough for a big boy to scramble up, in order to sweep it. For some
reason, the owners of the house had barred the chimney across so that
this could not be done. They swept it, probably, in the effective
old-fashioned way by shooting a blank charge of powder from a
blunderbuss straight up the opening. The first two iron bars were so
placed that it was only necessary to remove one to make room for my
body. Further up there were others, more close together. The fire had
not been lighted for many years; there was no soot in the passage. There
was a jackdaw's nest high up. I could see the old jackdaw looking down
at me. Up above her head was a little square of sky. I did not doubt
that when I got to the top I should be able to scramble out of that
square on to the leads, then down by a water-spout, evading the
sentries, over the garden wall to freedom. After half an hour of mortar
picking I got one end of the lowest iron bar out of its socket. Then I
picked out the mortar from the other end, working the bar about like a
lever, to grind the fulcrum into dust. Soon I had the bar so loose that
I was able to thrust it to one side, leaving a passage big enough for my
body.
I was very happy when this was done. I went back to the room to make up
a packet of food to take with me. This I thrust into an inner pocket,
before launching out up the hole. When I had cleaned up the mess of
mortar, I started up the chimney, carefully replacing the bar behind
me. Soon I was seven or eight feet above the room, trying to get at the
upper bars. I was scrambling about for a foothold, when I noticed, to
my left, an iron bar or handle, well concealed from below by projecting
bricks. I seized hold of it with my left hand, very glad of the support
it offered, when, with a dull grating noise, it slid downwards under my
weight, drawing with it the iron panel to which it was clamped. I had
come upon a secret chamber in the chimney; there at my side was an
opening big enough for a man's body. I was pretty well startled by it,
not only by the suddenness of the discovery, but from the fear I had
lest it should lead to some inhabited room, where my journey would be
brought to an end. I peered into it well, before I ventured to enter.
It was a little low room, about five feet square, lit by two loopholes,
which were concealed from outside by the great growth of ivy on the side
of the house. I clambered into it with pleasure, keeping as quiet as I
could. It was a dirty little room, with part of its floor rotten from
rain which had beaten in through the loopholes. It had not been used for
a great while. The pallet bed against the wall was covered with rotten
rags, dry as tinder. There were traces of food, who could say how
ancient, in a dish by the bed. There was a little crucifix, with a
broken neck-chain, lying close to the platter. Some priest who had used
this priest-hole years before had left it there in his hurry; I wondered
how. Something of the awe which had been upon him then seemed to linger
in the place. Many men had lain with beating hearts in that room; the
room seemed to remember. I have never been in a place which made one's
heart move like that room. Well. The priest's fears were dead as the
priest by this time. Nothing but the wreck of his dinner, perhaps the
last he ever ate, remained to tell of him, beside the broken symbol of
his belief. I shut-to the little panel-door by which I had entered, so
that I might not have the horrible fancy that the old priest's shaven
head was peering up the chimney at me, to see what I was doing in his
old room, long since given over to the birds.
As I expected, there was a way of escape from the hiding-place. A big
stone in the wall seemed to project unnecessarily; the last comer to
that room had shut the door carelessly; otherwise I might never have
found it. Seeing the projecting stone, I took it for a clue feeling all
round it, till I found that underneath it there was a groove for finger
tips. The stone was nothing more than a large, cunningly fashioned
drawer, which pulled out, showing a passage leading down, down, along
narrow winding steps, just broad enough for one man to creep down at a
time. The stairs were more awesome than the room, for they were dark. I
could not see where they led; but I meant to go through this adventure,
now that I had begun it. So down I crept cautiously, clinging to the
wall, feeling with my feet as I went, lest there should be no step,
suddenly, but a black pit, far down, into which a man might fall
headlong, on to who knows what horrors. I counted the steps. I thought
that they would never end. There were thirty-seven altogether. They
brought me to a dark sort of room, with damp earth for its floor, upon
which water slowly dropped from some unseen stalactite. I judged that
I must be somewhere under the bath-chamber, not more than ten feet from
the abbot's old fish-pond. If there was a way out I felt that it must
be to my left, under the garden; not to my right, which would lead back
under the body of the house.
Very cautiously I felt along to my left, till I found that there was
indeed a passage; but one so low that I had to stoop to get along it. A
few steps further brought me with a shock against a wall, a sad surprise
to me, for I thought that I was on the road to safety. When I recovered
from my fear I felt along the wall till I found that the passage
zigzagged like a badger's earth. It turned once sharply to the right,
going up a couple of steps, then again sharply to the left, going up a
few more steps, then again to the right up one step more, to a broader
open stretch, lit by one or two tiny chinks, more cheering to me than
you can imagine. I guessed that I was passing at last under the garden,
having gone right below the house's foundations. The chinks of light
seemed to me to come from holes worn in the roof by rabbits or rats.
They were pleasant things to see after all that groping in the blackness
of night. On I went cautiously, feeling my way before me, till suddenly
I stopped dead, frightened terribly, for close to me, almost within
touch as it seemed, some men were talking to each other. They were
evidently sitting just above my head, in the cool morning, watching
for me to come through my window, as I suppose. They were some of Sir
Travers's sentries. A moment's thought told me that I had little to
fear from them, if I moved quietly in my burrow. However, as my walk was
often noisy, through stumblings on stones, I waited till they moved off,
which was not for some minutes. One of the men was asking the other what
was the truth about the Duke.
“Why,” his mate answered, “they say as he got beat back coming towards
London. They say he be going to Bridgewater, now, to make it a castle,
like; or perhaps he be a coming to Taunton. They say he have only a mob,
like, left to en, what with all this rain. But I do-an't know. He be
very like to come here agen; so as us'll have to watch for our stock.”
“Ah?” said the first. “They did say as there was soldiers come to
Evilminster. So as to shut en off, like. I seed fires out that way,
myself, like camp-fires, afore it grew light. They do say the soldiers
be all for the Duke.”
“Yes,” the other answered, “he be very like to win if it come to a
battle. He'd a got on to London, I dare-say, if the roads had but been
dry.”
“What do ee say to a bit of tobaccy, master?” said the first, after a
pause.
“Why, very well,” said the other. At this instant, without any warning,
something in the wall of my passage gave way, some bit of rotten mortar
which held up a stone, or something of the sort. At any rate, a stone
fell out, with a little rush of rotten plaster, making a good deal of
noise, though of course it seemed more to me than to the men outside.
“What ever in the world was that?” said one of them.
“I dunno,” said the other. “It seemed to come from down below somewhere,
under the earth, like. Do you think as it could be a rabbit?”
“It did sound like a stone falling out of a wall,” came the answer. “I
dunno. Where could it a come from?”
They seemed to search about for some trace of a rabbit; but not finding
any, they listened for another stone to fall.
“I tell you what I think,” said the first man. “I believe as there be
underground passages all over these here gardens. Some of them walks
sound just as hollow as logs if you do stamp on 'em. There was very
queer doings here in the old monks' time; very queer. Some day I mean to
grub about a bit, master. For my old grandmother used always to say as
the monks buried a lot of treasure hereabouts in the old time.”
“Ah?” said the other. “Then shall us get a spade quiet like, to see if
it be beneath.” The other hesitated, while my heart sank. I very nearly
went back to my prison, thinking that all was over.
“No,” said his comrade. “Us'll ask Sir Travers first. He do-an't like
people grubbing about. Some of his forefathers as they call them weren't
very good, I do hear, neither. He do-an't want none of their little
games brought to light, like.”
After this, the men moved off, to some other part of their beat. I went
on along the passage quickly, till suddenly I fell with a crash down
three or four steps into a dirty puddle, knocking my head as I fell. I
could see no glimmer of light from this place; but I groped my way out,
up a few more steps further on into a smaller, dirtier passage than the
one which I had just left. After this I had to crawl like a badger in
his earth, with my back brushing against the roof, over many masses of
broken brickwork most rough to the palms of my hands. All of a sudden
I smelt a pleasant stable-smell. I heard the rattle of a halter drawn
across manger bars. I heard a horse paw upon the ground quite close to
me. A dim, but regular chink of light showed in front of me, level with
my head as crawled. Peering through it, I saw that I was looking into a
stable, almost level with the floor; the passage had come to an end.
By getting my fingers into the crack through which I peered, I found
that I could swing round some half a dozen stones, which were mortared
together, so as to form a revolving door. It worked with difficulty,
as though no one had passed through by that way for many years; but
it worked for me, after a little hard pushing. I scrambled through the
narrow opening into a roomy old stable, where some cart-horses peered
at me with wonder, as I rose to my feet. After getting out, I shut to
my door behind me, so firmly that I could not open it again; there must
have been some spring or catch which I could not set to work. Two steps
more took me out of the horses' stalls into the space behind, where, on
a mass of hay, lay a carter, fast asleep, with the door-key in his hand.
By his side lay a pitchfork. He was keeping guard there, prepared to
resist Monmouth's pillagers.
He slept so heavily that I was tempted to take the key from his hand.
Twice I made little half steps forward to take it; but each time
something in the man's look daunted me. He was a surly-looking man who,
if roused suddenly, in a locked stable, might lay about him without
waiting to see who roused him. He stirred in his sleep as I drew near
him for the second time; so I gave up the key as a bad job. The loft
seemed to be my only chance; as there was only this one big locked
double door upon the lower floor, I clambered up the steep ladder to the
loft, hoping that my luck there might be better, but resolved, if the
worst came, to hide there in the hay until the carter took the horses to
work, leaving the doors open.
I had hardly set my foot upon the loft floor, when one of the horses,
hearing some noise outside, or being moved by some evil spirit, whinnied
loudly, rattling his halter. The noise was enough to arouse an army. It
startled the carter from his bed. I heard him leap to his feet with an
oath; I heard him pad round the stable, talking to the horses in turn; I
heard him unlock the door to see what was stirring. I stood stock-still
in my tracks, not daring to stir towards the cover of the hay at the
farther end of the loft. I heard him walk slowly, grunting heavily,
to the foot of the ladder, where he stopped to listen for any further
signal. If he had come up he must have caught me. I could not have
escaped. But though he seemed suspicious he did not venture further. He
walked slowly back to his bed, grunting discontentedly. In a few minutes
he was sound asleep again; for farming people sleep like sailors, as
though sleep were a sort of spirit muffling them suddenly in a thick
felt blanket. After he had gone off to sleep, I took off my boots, in
order to put them on under my stockings, for the greater quiet which
that muffling gives to the tread. Then I peered about the loft for a way
of escape.
There were big double doors to this upper loft, through which the hay
could be passed from a waggon standing near the wall. These doors were
padlocked on the inside; there was no opening them; the staples were
much too firm for me to remove without a crowbar. The other openings in
the walls were mere loophole slits, about four feet long but only a few
inches broad. There were enough of these to make the place light. By
their light I could see that there was no way of escape for me except
by the main door. I was almost despairing of escape from this prison of
mine, when I saw that the loft had a hayshoot, leading downwards. When
I saw it I fondly hoped that it led to some outer stable or cart-shed,
separated from that in which the carter slept. A glance down its smooth
shaft showed me that it led to the main stable. I could see the heads
of the meditative horses, bent over the empty mangers exactly as if they
were saying grace. Beyond them I saw the boots of the carter dangling
over the edge of the trusses of hay on which he slept. I stepped back
from this shaft quickly because I thought that I might be seen from
below. My foot went into the nest of a sitting hen, right on to the
creature's back. Up she started, giving me such a fright that I nearly
screamed. She flew with a cackling shriek which set all the blackbirds
chippering in the countryside. Round the loft she scattered, calling
her hideous noise. Up jumped the carter, down came his pitchfork with
a thud. His great boots clattered over the stable to the ladder. Clump,
clump, he came upstairs, with his pitchfork prongs gleaming over his
head like lanceheads. I saw his head show over the opening of the loft.
There was not a second to lose. His back of course was still towards me,
as the ladder was mercifully nailed to the wall. Before he turned I slid
over the mouth of the shaft down into the hayrack of the old brute who
had whinnied. I lit softly; but I certainly shocked that old mare's
feelings. In a second, before she had time to kick, I was outside her
stall, darting across the stable to the key, which lay on the truss of
hay, mercifully left there by its guardian. In another second the lock
had turned. I was outside, in the glorious open fields again. Swiftly
but silently I drew the key out of the lock. One second more sufficed
to lock that door from without. The carter was a prisoner there, locked
safely in with his horses. I was free. The key was in my pocket. Yonder
lay the great combes which hid Taunton from me. I waved my hat towards
them; then, with a wild joyous rush, I scrambled behind the cover of the
nearest hedge, along which I ran hard for nearly a quarter of a mile.
I stopped for a few minutes to rest among some ferns, while I debated
how to proceed. I changed the arrangement of my stockings; I also dusted
my very dirty clothes, all filthy from that horrid passage underground.
“Now,” I said to myself, “there must be many ways to Taunton. One way,
I know, leads along this valley, past Chard there, where the houses are.
The other way must lie across these combes, high up. Which way shall I
choose, I wonder?” A moment's thought showed me that the combes would
be unfrequented, while the valley road, being the easy road, which (as I
knew) the Duke's army had chosen, would no doubt be full of people, some
of them (perhaps) the King's soldiers, coming up from Bridport. If I
went by that road my pursuers would soon hear of me, even if I managed
to get past the watchers on the road. On the other hand, Aurelia would
probably know that I should choose the combe road. Still, even if she
sent out mounted men, she would find me hard to track, since the combes
were lonely, so lonely that for hours together you can walk there
without meeting anybody. There would be plentiful cover among the combes
in case I wished to lie low. Besides, I had a famous start, a five
hours' start; for I should not be missed until eight o'clock. It could
not then have been much more than half-past two. In five hours an active
boy, even if he knew not the road, might put some half a dozen miles
behind him. I say only half a dozen miles, because the roads were the
roughest of rough mud-tracks, still soft from the rains. As I did not
know the way, I knew that I might count on going wrong, taking wrong
turns, etc. As I wished to avoid people, I counted on travelling most
of the way across country, trusting to luck to find my way among the
fields. So that, although in five hours I should travel perhaps ten or
twelve miles, I could not count on getting more than six miles towards
Taunton.