MUTUAL DISCOMFITURE
[Illustration: 483.jpg Illustrated Capital]
It must not be supposed that I was altogether so thick-headed as Jeremy
would have made me out. But it is part of my character that I like other
people to think me slow, and to labour hard to enlighten me, while all
the time I can say to myself, “This man is shallower than I am; it is
pleasant to see his shoals come up while he is sounding mine so!” Not
that I would so behave, God forbid, with anybody (be it man or woman)
who in simple heart approached me, with no gauge of intellect. But when
the upper hand is taken, upon the faith of one's patience, by a man of
even smaller wits (not that Jeremy was that, neither could he have lived
to be thought so), why, it naturally happens, that we knuckle under,
with an ounce of indignation.
Jeremy's tale would have moved me greatly both with sorrow and anger,
even without my guess at first, and now my firm belief, that the child
of those unlucky parents was indeed my Lorna. And as I thought of the
lady's troubles, and her faith in Providence, and her cruel, childless
death, and then imagined how my darling would be overcome to hear it,
you may well believe that my quick replies to Jeremy Stickles's banter
were but as the flourish of a drum to cover the sounds of pain.
For when he described the heavy coach and the persons in and upon it,
and the breaking down at Dulverton, and the place of their destination,
as well as the time and the weather, and the season of the year, my
heart began to burn within me, and my mind replaced the pictures, first
of the foreign lady's-maid by the pump caressing me, and then of the
coach struggling up the hill, and the beautiful dame, and the fine
little boy, with the white cockade in his hat; but most of all the
little girl, dark-haired and very lovely, and having even in those days
the rich soft look of Lorna.
But when he spoke of the necklace thrown over the head of the little
maiden, and of her disappearance, before my eyes arose at once the
flashing of the beacon-fire, the lonely moors embrowned with the light,
the tramp of the outlaw cavalcade, and the helpless child head-downward,
lying across the robber's saddle-bow.
Then I remembered my own mad shout of boyish indignation, and marvelled
at the strange long way by which the events of life come round. And
while I thought of my own return, and childish attempt to hide myself
from sorrow in the sawpit, and the agony of my mother's tears, it did
not fail to strike me as a thing of omen, that the selfsame day should
be, both to my darling and myself, the blackest and most miserable of
all youthful days.
The King's Commissioner thought it wise, for some good reason of his
own, to conceal from me, for the present, the name of the poor lady
supposed to be Lorna's mother; and knowing that I could easily now
discover it, without him, I let that question abide awhile. Indeed I was
half afraid to hear it, remembering that the nobler and the wealthier
she proved to be, the smaller was my chance of winning such a wife for
plain John Ridd. Not that she would give me up: that I never dreamed of.
But that others would interfere; or indeed I myself might find it only
honest to relinquish her. That last thought was a dreadful blow, and
took my breath away from me.
Jeremy Stickles was quite decided--and of course the discovery being
his, he had a right to be so--that not a word of all these things must
be imparted to Lorna herself, or even to my mother, or any one
whatever. “Keep it tight as wax, my lad,” he cried, with a wink of
great expression; “this belongs to me, mind; and the credit, ay, and the
premium, and the right of discount, are altogether mine. It would have
taken you fifty years to put two and two together so, as I did, like a
clap of thunder. Ah, God has given some men brains; and others have good
farms and money, and a certain skill in the lower beasts. Each must use
his special talent. You work your farm: I work my brains. In the end, my
lad, I shall beat you.”
“Then, Jeremy, what a fool you must be, if you cudgel your brains to
make money of this, to open the barn-door to me, and show me all your
threshing.”
“Not a whit, my son. Quite the opposite. Two men always thresh better
than one. And here I have you bound to use your flail, one two, with
mine, and yet in strictest honour bound not to bushel up, till I tell
you.”
“But,” said I, being much amused by a Londoner's brave, yet uncertain,
use of simplest rural metaphors, for he had wholly forgotten the
winnowing: “surely if I bushel up, even when you tell me, I must take
half-measure.”
“So you shall, my boy,” he answered, “if we can only cheat those
confounded knaves of Equity. You shall take the beauty, my son, and
the elegance, and the love, and all that--and, my boy, I will take the
money.”
This he said in a way so dry, and yet so richly unctuous, that being
gifted somehow by God, with a kind of sense of queerness, I fell back in
my chair, and laughed, though the underside of my laugh was tears.
“Now, Jeremy, how if I refuse to keep this half as tight as wax. You
bound me to no such partnership, before you told the story; and I am not
sure, by any means, of your right to do so afterwards.”
“Tush!” he replied: “I know you too well, to look for meanness in you.
If from pure goodwill, John Ridd, and anxiety to relieve you, I made no
condition precedent, you are not the man to take advantage, as a lawyer
might. I do not even want your promise. As sure as I hold this glass,
and drink your health and love in another drop (forced on me by pathetic
words), so surely will you be bound to me, until I do release you. Tush!
I know men well by this time: a mere look of trust from one is worth
another's ten thousand oaths.”
“Jeremy, you are right,” I answered; “at least as regards the issue.
Although perhaps you were not right in leading me into a bargain like
this, without my own consent or knowledge. But supposing that we should
both be shot in this grand attack on the valley (for I mean to go
with you now, heart and soul), is Lorna to remain untold of that which
changes all her life?”
“Both shot!” cried Jeremy Stickles: “my goodness, boy, talk not like
that! And those Doones are cursed good shots too. Nay, nay, the yellows
shall go in front; we attack on the Somerset side, I think. I from a
hill will reconnoitre, as behoves a general, you shall stick behind a
tree, if we can only find one big enough to hide you. You and I to be
shot, John Ridd, with all this inferior food for powder anxious to be
devoured?”
I laughed, for I knew his cool hardihood, and never-flinching courage;
and sooth to say no coward would have dared to talk like that.
“But when one comes to think of it,” he continued, smiling at himself;
“some provision should be made for even that unpleasant chance. I will
leave the whole in writing, with orders to be opened, etc., etc.--Now no
more of that, my boy; a cigarro after schnapps, and go to meet my yellow
boys.”
His “yellow boys,” as he called the Somersetshire trained bands, were
even now coming down the valley from the London Road, as every one since
I went up to town, grandly entitled the lane to the moors. There was one
good point about these men, that having no discipline at all, they made
pretence to none whatever. Nay, rather they ridiculed the thing, as
below men of any spirit. On the other hand, Master Stickles's troopers
looked down on these native fellows from a height which I hope they may
never tumble, for it would break the necks of all of them.
Now these fine natives came along, singing, for their very lives, a song
the like of which set down here would oust my book from modest
people, and make everybody say, “this man never can have loved Lorna.”
Therefore, the less of that the better; only I thought, “what a
difference from the goodly psalms of the ale house!”
Having finished their canticle, which contained more mirth than melody,
they drew themselves up, in a sort of way supposed by them to be
military, each man with heel and elbow struck into those of his
neighbour, and saluted the King's Commissioner. “Why, where are your
officers?” asked Master Stickles; “how is it that you have no officers?”
Upon this there arose a general grin, and a knowing look passed along
their faces, even up to the man by the gatepost. “Are you going to tell
me, or not,” said Jeremy, “what is become of your officers?”
“Plaise zur,” said one little fellow at last, being nodded at by the
rest to speak, in right of his known eloquence; “hus tould Harfizers, as
a wor no nade of un, now King's man hiszell wor coom, a puppose vor to
command us laike.”
“And do you mean to say, you villains,” cried Jeremy, scarce knowing
whether to laugh, or to swear, or what to do; “that your officers took
their dismissal thus, and let you come on without them?”
“What could 'em do?” asked the little man, with reason certainly on his
side: “hus zent 'em about their business, and they was glad enough to
goo.”
“Well!” said poor Jeremy, turning to me; “a pretty state of things,
John! Threescore cobblers, and farming men, plasterers, tailors, and
kettles-to-mend; and not a man to keep order among them, except my
blessed self, John! And I trow there is not one among them could hit all
in-door flying. The Doones will make riddles of all of us.”
However, he had better hopes when the sons of Devon appeared, as
they did in about an hour's time; fine fellows, and eager to prove
themselves. These had not discarded their officers, but marched in good
obedience to them, and were quite prepared to fight the men of Somerset
(if need be) in addition to the Doones. And there was scarcely a man
among them but could have trounced three of the yellow men, and would
have done it gladly too, in honour of the red facings.
“Do you mean to suppose, Master Jeremy Stickles,” said I, looking on
with amazement, beholding also all our maidens at the upstair windows
wondering; “that we, my mother a widow woman, and I a young man of small
estate, can keep and support all these precious fellows, both yellow
ones, and red ones, until they have taken the Doone Glen?”
“God forbid it, my son!” he replied, laying a finger upon his lip:
“Nay, nay, I am not of the shabby order, when I have the strings of
government. Kill your sheep at famine prices, and knead your bread at
a figure expressing the rigours of last winter. Let Annie make out the
bill every day, and I at night will double it. You may take my word for
it, Master John, this spring-harvest shall bring you in three times
as much as last autumn's did. If they cheated you in town, my lad, you
shall have your change in the country. Take thy bill, and write down
quickly.”
However this did not meet my views of what an honest man should do; and
I went to consult my mother about it, as all the accounts would be made
in her name.
Dear mother thought that if the King paid only half again as much as
other people would have to pay, it would be perhaps the proper thing;
the half being due for loyalty: and here she quoted an ancient saying,--
“The King and his staff.
Be a man and a half;”
which, according to her judgment, ruled beyond dispute the law of the
present question. To argue with her after that (which she brought up
with such triumph) would have been worse than useless. Therefore I just
told Annie to make the bills at a third below the current market prices;
so that the upshot would be fair. She promised me honestly that she
would; but with a twinkle in her bright blue eyes, which she must have
caught from Tom Faggus. It always has appeared to me that stern and
downright honesty upon money matters is a thing not understood of women;
be they as good as good can be.
The yellows and the reds together numbered a hundred and twenty men,
most of whom slept in our barns and stacks; and besides these we had
fifteen troopers of the regular army. You may suppose that all the
country was turned upside down about it; and the folk who came to see
them drill--by no means a needless exercise--were a greater plague
than the soldiers. The officers too of the Devonshire hand were such a
torment to us, that we almost wished their men had dismissed them, as
the Somerset troop had done with theirs. For we could not keep them out
of our house, being all young men of good family, and therefore not to
be met with bars. And having now three lovely maidens (for even Lizzie
might be called so, when she cared to please), mother and I were at
wit's ends, on account of those blessed officers. I never got a wink of
sleep; they came whistling under the window so; and directly I went out
to chase them, there was nothing but a cat to see.
Therefore all of us were right glad (except perhaps Farmer Snowe, from
whom we had bought some victuals at rare price), when Jeremy Stickles
gave orders to march, and we began to try to do it. A good deal of
boasting went overhead, as our men defiled along the lane; and the thick
broad patins of pennywort jutted out between the stones, ready to
heal their bruises. The parish choir came part of the way, and the
singing-loft from Countisbury; and they kept our soldiers' spirits up
with some of the most pugnacious Psalms. Parson Bowden marched ahead,
leading all our van and file, as against the Papists; and promising
to go with us, till we came to bullet distance. Therefore we marched
bravely on, and children came to look at us. And I wondered where Uncle
Reuben was, who ought to have led the culverins (whereof we had no less
than three), if Stickles could only have found him; and then I thought
of little Ruth; and without any fault on my part, my heart went down
within me.
The culverins were laid on bark; and all our horses pulling them, and
looking round every now and then, with their ears curved up like a
squirrel'd nut, and their noses tossing anxiously, to know what sort
of plough it was man had been pleased to put behind them--man, whose
endless whims and wildness they could never understand, any more than
they could satisfy. However, they pulled their very best--as all our
horses always do--and the culverins went up the hill, without smack
of whip, or swearing. It had been arranged, very justly, no doubt, and
quite in keeping with the spirit of the Constitution, but as it proved
not too wisely, that either body of men should act in its own county
only. So when we reached the top of the hill, the sons of Devon marched
on, and across the track leading into Doone-gate, so as to fetch round
the western side, and attack with their culverin from the cliffs, whence
the sentry had challenged me on the night of my passing the entrance.
Meanwhile the yellow lads were to stay upon the eastern highland, whence
Uncle Reuben and myself had reconnoitred so long ago; and whence I had
leaped into the valley at the time of the great snow-drifts. And here
they were not to show themselves; but keep their culverin in the woods,
until their cousins of Devon appeared on the opposite parapet of the
glen.
The third culverin was entrusted to the fifteen troopers; who, with ten
picked soldiers from either trained hand, making in all five-and-thirty
men, were to assault the Doone-gate itself, while the outlaws were
placed between two fires from the eastern cliff and the western. And
with this force went Jeremy Stickles, and with it went myself, as
knowing more about the passage than any other stranger did. Therefore,
if I have put it clearly, as I strive to do, you will see that the
Doones must repulse at once three simultaneous attacks, from an army
numbering in the whole one hundred and thirty-five men, not including
the Devonshire officers; fifty men on each side, I mean, and thirty-five
at the head of the valley.
The tactics of this grand campaign appeared to me so clever, and
beautifully ordered, that I commended Colonel Stickles, as everybody
now called him, for his great ability and mastery of the art of war. He
admitted that he deserved high praise; but said that he was not by any
means equally certain of success, so large a proportion of his forces
being only a raw militia, brave enough no doubt for anything, when they
saw their way to it; but knowing little of gunnery, and wholly unused
to be shot at. Whereas all the Doones were practised marksmen, being
compelled when lads (like the Balearic slingers) to strike down their
meals before tasting them. And then Colonel Stickles asked me, whether I
myself could stand fire; he knew that I was not a coward, but this was
a different question. I told him that I had been shot at, once or twice
before; but nevertheless disliked it, as much as almost anything. Upon
that he said that I would do; for that when a man got over the first
blush of diffidence, he soon began to look upon it as a puff of destiny.
I wish I could only tell what happened, in the battle of that day,
especially as nearly all the people round these parts, who never saw
gun-fire in it, have gotten the tale so much amiss; and some of them
will even stand in front of my own hearth, and contradict me to the
teeth; although at the time they were not born, nor their fathers put
into breeches. But in truth, I cannot tell, exactly, even the part in
which I helped, how then can I be expected, time by time, to lay before
you, all the little ins and outs of places, where I myself was not? Only
I can contradict things, which I know could not have been; and what I
plainly saw should not be controverted in my own house.
Now we five-and-thirty men lay back a little way round the corner,
in the hollow of the track which leads to the strong Doone-gate. Our
culverin was in amongst us, loaded now to the muzzle, and it was not
comfortable to know that it might go off at any time. Although the
yeomanry were not come (according to arrangement), some of us had horses
there; besides the horses who dragged the cannon, and now were sniffing
at it. And there were plenty of spectators to mind these horses for us,
as soon as we should charge; inasmuch as all our friends and neighbours,
who had so keenly prepared for the battle, now resolved to take no part,
but look on, and praise the winners.
At last we heard the loud bang-bang, which proved that Devon and
Somerset were pouring their indignation hot into the den of malefactors,
or at least so we supposed; therefore at double quick march we advanced
round the bend of the cliff which had hidden us, hoping to find the gate
undefended, and to blow down all barriers with the fire of our cannon.
And indeed it seemed likely at first to be so, for the wild and
mountainous gorge of rock appeared to be all in pure loneliness, except
where the coloured coats of our soldiers, and their metal trappings,
shone with the sun behind them. Therefore we shouted a loud hurrah, as
for an easy victory.
But while the sound of our cheer rang back among the crags above us, a
shrill clear whistle cleft the air for a single moment, and then a dozen
carbines bellowed, and all among us flew murderous lead. Several of our
men rolled over, but the rest rushed on like Britons, Jeremy and myself
in front, while we heard the horses plunging at the loaded gun behind
us. “Now, my lads,” cried Jeremy, “one dash, and we are beyond them!”
For he saw that the foe was overhead in the gallery of brushwood.
Our men with a brave shout answered him, for his courage was fine
example; and we leaped in under the feet of the foe, before they could
load their guns again. But here, when the foremost among us were past,
an awful crash rang behind us, with the shrieks of men, and the din of
metal, and the horrible screaming of horses. The trunk of the tree
had been launched overhead, and crashed into the very midst of us. Our
cannon was under it, so were two men, and a horse with his poor back
broken. Another horse vainly struggled to rise, with his thigh-bone
smashed and protruding.
Now I lost all presence of mind at this, for I loved both those good
horses, and shouting for any to follow me, dashed headlong into the
cavern. Some five or six men came after me, the foremost of whom was
Jeremy, when a storm of shot whistled and patted around me, with a blaze
of light and a thunderous roar. On I leaped, like a madman, and pounced
on one gunner, and hurled him across his culverin; but the others had
fled, and a heavy oak door fell to with a bang, behind them. So utterly
were my senses gone, and naught but strength remaining, that I caught up
the cannon with both hands, and dashed it, breech-first, at the doorway.
The solid oak burst with the blow, and the gun stuck fast, like a
builder's putlog.
But here I looked round in vain for any one to come and follow up my
success. The scanty light showed me no figure moving through the length
of the tunnel behind me; only a heavy groan or two went to my heart, and
chilled it. So I hurried back to seek Jeremy, fearing that he must be
smitten down.
And so indeed I found him, as well as three other poor fellows, struck
by the charge of the culverin, which had passed so close beside me. Two
of the four were as dead as stones, and growing cold already, but Jeremy
and the other could manage to groan, just now and then. So I turned my
attention to them, and thought no more of fighting.
Having so many wounded men, and so many dead among us, we loitered at
the cavern's mouth, and looked at one another, wishing only for somebody
to come and take command of us. But no one came; and I was griefed so
much about poor Jeremy, besides being wholly unused to any violence of
bloodshed, that I could only keep his head up, and try to stop him from
bleeding. And he looked up at me pitifully, being perhaps in a haze of
thought, as a calf looks at a butcher.
The shot had taken him in the mouth; about that no doubt could be, for
two of his teeth were in his beard, and one of his lips was wanting. I
laid his shattered face on my breast, and nursed him, as a woman might.
But he looked at me with a jerk at this; and I saw that he wanted
coolness.
While here we stayed, quite out of danger (for the fellows from the
gallery could by no means shoot us, even if they remained there, and the
oaken door whence the others fled was blocked up by the culverin), a boy
who had no business there (being in fact our clerk's apprentice to the
art of shoe-making) came round the corner upon us in the manner which
boys, and only boys, can use with grace and freedom; that is to say,
with a sudden rush, and a sidelong step, and an impudence,--
“Got the worst of it!” cried the boy; “better be off all of you.
Zoomerzett and Devon a vighting; and the Doones have drashed 'em both.
Maister Ridd, even thee be drashed.”
We few, who yet remained of the force which was to have won the
Doone-gate, gazed at one another, like so many fools, and nothing more.
For we still had some faint hopes of winning the day, and recovering our
reputation, by means of what the other men might have done without us.
And we could not understand at all how Devonshire and Somerset, being
embarked in the same cause, should be fighting with one another.
Finding nothing more to be done in the way of carrying on the war, we
laid poor Master Stickles and two more of the wounded upon the carriage
of bark and hurdles, whereon our gun had lain; and we rolled the gun
into the river, and harnessed the horses yet alive, and put the others
out of their pain, and sadly wended homewards, feeling ourselves to be
thoroughly beaten, yet ready to maintain that it was no fault of ours
whatever. And in this opinion the women joined, being only too glad and
thankful to see us home alive again.
Now, this enterprise having failed so, I prefer not to dwell too long
upon it; only just to show the mischief which lay at the root of the
failure. And this mischief was the vile jealousy betwixt red and yellow
uniform. Now I try to speak impartially, belonging no more to Somerset
than I do to Devonshire, living upon the borders, and born of either
county. The tale was told me by one side first; and then quite to a
different tune by the other; and then by both together, with very hot
words of reviling and a desire to fight it out again. And putting this
with that, the truth appears to be as follows:--
The men of Devon, who bore red facings, had a long way to go round the
hills, before they could get into due position on the western side of
the Doone Glen. And knowing that their cousins in yellow would claim the
whole of the glory, if allowed to be first with the firing, these worthy
fellows waited not to take good aim with their cannons, seeing the
others about to shoot; but fettled it anyhow on the slope, pointing in a
general direction; and trusting in God for aimworthiness, laid the rope
to the breech, and fired. Now as Providence ordained it, the shot,
which was a casual mixture of anything considered hard--for instance,
jug-bottoms and knobs of doors--the whole of this pernicious dose came
scattering and shattering among the unfortunate yellow men upon the
opposite cliff; killing one and wounding two.
Now what did the men of Somerset do, but instead of waiting for their
friends to send round and beg pardon, train their gun full mouth upon
them, and with a vicious meaning shoot. Not only this, but they loudly
cheered, when they saw four or five red coats lie low; for which savage
feeling not even the remarks of the Devonshire men concerning their
coats could entirely excuse them. Now I need not tell the rest of it,
for the tale makes a man discontented. Enough that both sides waxed
hotter and hotter with the fire of destruction. And but that the gorge
of the cliffs lay between, very few would have lived to tell of it; for
our western blood becomes stiff and firm, when churned with the sense of
wrong in it.
At last the Doones (who must have laughed at the thunder passing
overhead) recalling their men from the gallery, issued out of Gwenny's
gate (which had been wholly overlooked) and fell on the rear of
the Somerset men, and slew four beside their cannon. Then while the
survivors ran away, the outlaws took the hot culverin, and rolled it
down into their valley. Thus, of the three guns set forth that morning,
only one ever came home again, and that was the gun of the Devonshire
men, who dragged it home themselves, with the view of making a boast
about it.
This was a melancholy end of our brave setting out, and everybody blamed
every one else; and several of us wanted to have the whole thing over
again, as then we must have righted it. But upon one point all agreed,
by some reason not clear to me, that the root of the evil was to be
found in the way Parson Bowden went up the hill, with his hat on, and no
cassock.
[Illustration: 494.jpg Tailpiece]