CHAPTER LIX

NEAR OUR SHORES

“This is how it is,” said Captain Tugwell, that same day, to Erle

Twemlow: “the folk they goes on with a thing, till a man as has any

head left twists it round on his neck, with his chin looking down his

starn-post. Then the enemy cometh, with his spy-glass and his guns, and

afore he can look round, he hath nothing left to look for.”

“Then you think, Tugwell, that the danger is not over?--that the French

mean business even now, when every one is tired of hearing of it? I have

been away so long that I know nothing. But the universal opinion is--”

“Opinion of the universe be dashed!” Master Zebedee answered, with a

puff of smoke. “We calls ourselves the universe, when we be the rope

that drags astarn of it. Cappen, to my mind there is mischief in the

wind, more than there hath been for these three years; and that's why

you see me here, instead of going with the smacks. Holy Scripture saith

a dream cometh from the Lord; leastways, to a man of sense, as hardly

ever dreameth. The wind was so bad again us, Monday afternoon, that we

put off sailing till the Tuesday, and Monday night I lay on my own bed,

without a thought of nothing but to sleep till five o'clock. I hadn't

taken nothing but a quart of John Prater's ale--and you know what his

measures is--not a single sip of grog; but the Hangel of the Lord he

come and stand by me in the middle of the night. And he took me by the

hand, or if he didn't it come to the same thing of my getting there, and

he set me up in a dark high place, the like of the yew-tree near Carne

Castle. And then he saith, 'Look back, Zeb'; and I looked, and behold

Springhaven was all afire, like the bottomless pit, or the thunder-storm

of Egypt, or the cities of Sodom and Gomorrah. And two figures was

jumping about in the flames, like the furnace in the plain of Dura, and

one of them was young Squire Carne, and the other was my son Daniel, as

behaveth below his name. And I called out, 'Daniel, thou son of Zebedee

and Kezia Tugwell, come forth from the burning fiery furnace'; but he

answered not, neither heeded me. And then Squire Darling, Sir Charles is

now the name of him, out he come from his Round-house, and by the white

gate above high-water mark, to order out the fire, because they was all

his own cottages. But while he was going about, as he doth for fear of

being hard upon any one, out jumps Squire Carne, from the thickest of

the blazes, and takes the poor Squire by the forepart of his neck, which

he liketh to keep open when he getteth off of duty, and away with him

into the burning fiery furnace made of his own houses! That was more

than I could put up with, even under the Hangel, and I give such a kick

that Kezia, though she saith she is the most quietest of women, felt

herself a forced to bounce me up.”

“A dream of that sort deserves notice,” answered Erle, who had passed

many months among sailors; “and over and above that, I see proofs of

a foolish security in England, and of sharp activity in France. Last

Monday I was only five miles from Boulogne, on board of our frigate

the Melpomene, for I wanted the captain's evidence to help me in my

own affairs; and upon my word I was quite amazed at the massing of the

French forces there, and the evident readiness of their hundreds of

troop-ships. Scores of them even had horses on board, for I saw them

quite clearly with a spy-glass. But the officers only laughed at me, and

said they were tired of seeing that. And another thing I don't like

at all is the landing of a French boat this side of Pebbleridge. I was

coming home after dark one night, and as soon as they saw me they pushed

off, and pretended to be English fishermen; but if ever I saw Frenchmen,

these were French; and I believe they had a ship not far away, for I saw

a light shown and then turned off. I examined the place in the morning,

and saw the footprints of men on a path up the cliff, as if they had

gone inland towards Carne Castle. When the Admiral came home, I told him

of it; but he seemed to think it was only some smuggling.”

“Ah, there's smooglin' of a bad kind over there, to my belief. I

wouldn't tell your honour not a quarter what I thinks, because of the

young gentleman being near akin to you. But a thing or two have come to

my ears, very much again a young squire over that way. A man as will do

what he have done is a black one in some ways; and if some, why not in

all?”

“Tell me what you mean,” said Twemlow, sternly. “After saying so much,

you are bound to say more. Caryl Carne is no friend of mine, although he

is my cousin. I dislike the man, though I know but little of him.”

“For sartin then a kind gentleman like you won't like him none the

better for betraying of a nice young maid as put her trust in him, as

lively and pretty a young maid as ever stepped, and might have had the

pick of all the young men in the parish.”

“What!” exclaimed Erle, with a sudden chill of heart, for Faith had not

concealed from him her anxiety about Dolly. “Tugwell, do you mean to

say--”

“Yes, sir; only you must keep it to yourself, for the sake of the poor

young thing; though too many knows it already, I'm afeared. And that

was how poor Jem Cheeseman changed from a dapper money-turning man, as

pleasant as could be, to a down-hearted, stick-in-doors, honest-weighted

fellow. Poor little Polly was as simple as a dove, and her meant to

break none of the Lord's commandments, unless it was a sin to look so

much above her. He took her aboard her father's trading-craft, and

made pretence to marry her across the water, her knowing nothing of

the lingo, to be sure; and then when there come a thumping boy, and

her demanded for the sake of the young 'un that her marriage should be

sartified in the face of all the world, what does he do but turn round

and ask her if she was fool enough to suppose that a Carne had married a

butter-man's daughter? With a few words more, she went off of her head,

and have never been right again, they say; and her father, who was

mighty proud to have a grandson heir to an old ancient castle, he was

so took aback with this disappointment that he puzzled all the village,

including of me, as I am free to own, by jumping into his own rope.

'Twas only now just that I heard all this; and as the captain of this

here place, I shall ask leave of Cheeseman to have it out with Master

Carne, as soon as may be done without hurting the poor thing. If she

had been my child, the rope should have gone round his neck first, if it

come to mine there-arter!”

“The ----- villain!” Twemlow used a strong short word, without adding

heavily, it may be hoped, to the score against him. “And to think that

all this time he has been daring to address himself--But never mind that

now. It will be a bad time for him when I catch him by himself, though I

must not speak of Polly. Poor little Polly! what a pretty child she was!

I used to carry sugar-plums on purpose for her. Good-bye, Tugwell; I

must think about all this.”

“And so must I, sir. What a strapping chap 'a be!” Captain Zebedee

continued to himself, as Twemlow strode away with the light step of a

mountain savage, carrying a long staff from force of habit, and looking

even larger than himself from the flow of chestnut hair and beard around

him. “Never did see such a hairy chap. Never showed no signs of it when

'a was a lad, and Miss 'Liza quite smooth in the front of her neck. Must

come of Hottentot climate, I reckon. They calls it the bush, from

the folk been so bushy. I used to think as my beard was a pretty good

example; but, Lord bless me and keep me, it would all go on his nose! If

'a spreadeth that over the face of Squire Carne, 'a will ravish him, as

the wicked doth ravish the poor.”

Twemlow had many sad things to consider, and among them the impending

loss of this grand mane. After divers delays, and infinitude of forms,

and much evidence of things self-evident--in the spirit which drove Sir

Horatio Nelson to pin a certificate of amputation to the sleeve of his

lost arm--this Twemlow had established that he was the Twemlow left

behind upon the coast of Africa, and having been captured in the service

of his country, was entitled at least to restoration. In such a case

small liberality was shown in those days, even as now prevaileth, the

object of all in authority being to be hard upon those who are out

of it. At last, when he was becoming well weary, and nothing but an

Englishman's love of his country and desire to help in her dangers

prevented him from turning to private pursuits--wherein he held a key

to fortune--he found himself restored to his rank in the Army, and

appointed to another regiment, which happened to be short of officers.

Then he flung to the winds, until peace should return, his prospect of

wealth beyond reckoning, and locked in a black leather trunk materials

worth their weight in diamonds. But, as life is uncertain, he told

his beloved one the secret of his great discovery, which she, in sweet

ignorance of mankind, regarded as of no importance.

But as wars appear and disappear, nations wax and wane, and the holiest

principles of one age become the scoff of the next, yet human nature is

the same throughout, it would be wrong to cast no glance--even with the

French so near our shores--at the remarkable discovery of this young

man, and the circumstances leading up to it. For with keen insight

into civilized thought, which yearns with the deepest remorse for those

blessings which itself has banished, he knew that he held a master-key

to the treasuries of Croesus, Mycerinus, Attalus, and every other King

who has dazzled the world with his talents. The man who can minister to

human needs may, when he is lucky, earn a little towards his own; the

man who contributes to the pleasure of his fellows must find reward in

his own; but he who can gratify the vanity of his race is the master of

their pockets.

Twemlow had been carried from the deadly coast (as before related by

Captain Southcombe) to the mountainous district far inland, by the great

King Golo of the Quackwas nation, mighty warriors of lofty stature. Here

he was treated well, and soon learned enough of their simple language to

understand and be understood; while the King, who considered all white

men as of canine origin, was pleased with him, and prepared to make him

useful. Then Twemlow was sent, with an escort of chiefs, to the land of

the Houlas, as a medicine-man, to win Queen Mabonga for the great King

Golo. But she--so strange is the perversity of women--beholding this man

of a pearly tint, as fair as the moon, and as soft as a river--for he

took many months to get properly tanned--with one long gaze of amazement

yielded to him what he sought for another. A dwarf and a whipster he

might be among the great darkies around her--for he had only six feet

and one inch of stature, and forty-two inches round the chest--but, to

her fine taste, tone and quality more than covered defect of quantity.

The sight of male members of her race had never moved her, because she

had heard of their wickedness; but the gaze of this white man, so tender

and so innocent, set her on a long course of wondering about herself.

Then she drew back, and passed into the private hut behind, where no one

was allowed to disturb her. For she never had felt like this before, and

she wanted nobody to notice it.

But the Houla maidens, with the deepest interest in matters that came

home to them outside their understanding, held council with their

mothers, and these imparted to the angelic stranger, as plainly as

modesty permitted, the distressing results of his whiteness, and

implored him to depart, before further harm was done. Twemlow perceived

that he had tumbled into a difficult position, and the only way out of

it was to make off. Giving pledges to return in two moons at the latest,

he made his salaam to the sensitive young Queen, whose dignity was

only surpassed by her grace, and expecting to be shortened by the head,

returned with all speed to the great King Golo. Honesty is the best

policy--as we all know so well that we forbear to prove it--and the

Englishman saw that the tale would be darker from the lips of his black

attendants. The negro monarch was of much-enduring mind, but these

tidings outwent his philosophy. He ordered Twemlow's head to come off by

dinner-time, and, alas, that royal household kept very early hours; and

the poor captain, corded to a tree, sniffed sadly the growth of good

roast, which he never should taste, and could only succeed in succession

of fare. For although that enlightened King had discarded the taste of

the nations around him, it was not half so certain as the prisoner could

have wished that his prejudice would resist the relish of a candid rival

in prime condition.

While Twemlow was dwelling upon this nice question, and sympathising

deeply with the animal on the spit, Tuloo, the head councillor of

the realm, appeared, an ancient negro full of wisdom and resource.

Discovering that the white man set more value on his head than is usual

with these philosophers, he proposed conditions which were eagerly

accepted, and releasing the captive, led him into his own hut. Here the

man of wisdom spat three times into his very ample bosom, to exorcise

evil spells, and took from a hole in the corner something which he

handled very carefully, and with a touch as light as possible. Following

everything with his best eyes, Twemlow perceived in the hand of Tuloo

a spongy-looking substance of conical form, and in colour and size very

like a morel, but possessing a peculiar golden glow. “Kneel here, my

son, and move not until I tell you,” the old man whispered, and was

obeyed. Then he stripped off all covering from the white neck and

shoulders, and beginning immediately below the eyes, brushed all the

cheeks and the chin, throat and neck and upper part of the bosom, with

the substance in his hand, from which a yellow powder passed, moist

rather than dusty, into the open pores. “In one moon you will be a beast

of the woods, and in two you shall return to the Queen that loves you,”

said Councillor Tuloo, with a sly little grin.

But Twemlow was robbed of no self-respect by the growth of a forest

about him; and when he was sent again to Queen Mabonga, and the dewy

glance of love died at the very first wink into a stony glare--because

of his face being covered with hair--he said to himself that he knew

where he could inflict a very different impression upon ladies. For

these cannot have too much hair in England, at the back of their own

heads, and front of their admirers'.

Councillor Tuloo was gifted with a deep understanding of a thing which

looks shallow to a man who has never yet heard of false bottoms. He said

to King Golo: “I know what women are. As long as she never had thought

about men, you might crawl, and be only a hog to her. But her eyes have

been opened to this white man, and there is room for a black one to

go into them. And unless you are at hand, it will be done by some one

else.”

In short, all was managed so beautifully that in six more moons the coy

Mabonga split the Durra straw with King Golo, amid vast rejoicings and

in din almost equal to that which a wedding in Wales arouses. But

from time to time it was considered needful to keep up her Majesty's

repulsion by serving Erle Twemlow with another dose of that which would

have created for the English fair capillary attraction. Thus he became

a great favourite with the King, who listened with deep interest to

his descriptions of the houseful of beads and buttons to be earned in

England by a little proper management of Tuloo's magic dust. Before

very long it was arranged that as soon as a good supply of Pong could be

collected, Twemlow should be sent back to the coast and placed under

the charge of Bandeliah, who was now a tributary of this great King. And

here he might have waited years and years--for the trading station was

abandoned now--but for the benevolence of Captain Southcombe, who, being

driven to the eastward of his course upon one of his returns from India,

stood in a little further to enquire about his friend, and with no small

pleasure conveyed him home.

Springhaven: A Tale of the Great War · 第 59 / 66 章