We had but half-a-mile to walk, and that in a biting east wind, varied
with still more piercing squalls of snow and sleet, and I trembled in
every limb, while my heart rattled on like a donkey-engine getting in a
chain cable--all bumps and thumps.
I looked at the marrams,[13] and calculated what chance I should have
if I tried leg-bail; but when I looked at the length of my companion, I
gave it up as onpractical.
I was cold, although in what we call about here a “muck swat,” but my
new friend was all of a glow (especially about the mouth). He would
have made a rare fiery speaker for the House of Commons; he would have
frightened them that he couldn’t convince by his speechifying.
His conversation was dreadful--I don’t mean perfane or rude-like, but
the things that man told me made my flesh creep on my bones. He wanted
to make out to me that he had been buried three hundred years, just
before the old church was pulled down!
I can swallow a pretty thick strand of a yarn, but this here fellow
wanted me to swallow a whole cable, for he went on to tell me how, in
1584, he came over from Harlingen to Yarmouth, in a fishing-boat of
which he was mate, and that while ashore he one day fell in with three
or four fellows who were kinder interfering with a good-looking young
girl. Being strong he went for the whole set of them, and got the girl
away, but one of the gang struck him a blow with a heavy stick and
broke his arm.
The girl’s father came up and thanked the young Dutchman, and finding
that his daughter’s protector had broken a limb and could not work for
a week or two, took him to a surgeon and had the limb set. He left
him with the onderstanding that Dutchy would come and spend a week
with them, when the doctor had finished with him. The old fellow was
a farmer at Eccles, and being market-day, had as usual brought his
daughter with him to Yarmouth.
Well, up to there was what the play-actors would call Act One, and that
was all very nice and proper, but just you listen, and you’ll see how
it will turn out.
By and by away goes the young Dutchman to Eccles, and of course he
naturally fell in love with the mawther.[14] But she wouldn’t have him
at no price. No, she thanked him, and tried all she could to make him
comfortable, but--she already had a sweetheart.
This staggered Dutchy, but he had no idea of letting her go so
easily, and as every one in the village was afraid of the giant, the
girl’s father ordered the banns to be put up, to make sure that his
neighbour’s son should not be frightened out of his rights.
Dutchy tried all he knew to get the girl to alter her mind for a whole
week; and finding it in wain, he one morning disappeared.
That was what you might term Act Two. So far it had been all comedy,
as the play-actors call it, but the last act was a wiolent and wicious
one, as you shall hear.
The wedding-day came; the villagers flocked to the church; the ceremony
took place; the bells rang out; and, according to our custom, the
people fired their guns over the heads of the happy couple as they came
out of the porch, on their way to the home of the bride’s father.
All was perfect joy, but in another moment the joy was turned to
horror, for as the young couple came from the north porch, and turned
into the pathway leading round the foot of the old tower, a huge figure
(it was Dutchy) sprang upon them, and like a flash of lightning struck
them dead to the earth, before a hand could be raised to prevent it.
The reeking knife he calmly wiped, and thrust into his waist-belt,
and then stood glowering at the crowd, who kept at a very respectable
distance from him. He told them of the hard-heartedness of the girl,
and denounced her as she lay dead before him as an unfeeling creature,
and bade them know that what he had done was his mode of revenge, or
as he called it--Justice.
But where was the bride’s father all this time?
Well, he had been busy, as you shall hear.
It is the custom of we Norfolkers to give what we call “largesses”[15]
at marriages, comings of age, and suchlike; and on this occasion the
old man had pervided hisself with a little leather poke filled with
small silver coins, to throw among the assembled crowd, and indeed he
was occerpied in so doing when the death of his daughter took place. He
knew it was no use going for Dutchy single-handed, so he just stepped
behind the porch and loaded his gun with a handful of silver groats,
and when it was done sprang out, just when the giant had finished his
speech, and was turning to leave the place unmolested by the onlookers.
The old man shouted to him to stay or he would shoot; but, grasping the
knife in his belt, the young fellow walked away, without taking any
notice; whereupon the old man rushed after him, and aiming at his head,
fired.
“Der oldt man did shoot mit der gun right tro mine neck, and I seize
him, and gif him fon stap mit my knife, and den I vas dedt mineself,”
were the words of my uncanny companion.
Whether he killed the old man I cannot say, but he himself was killed,
and all this three hundred years ago!
And this was the gentleman I was taking a walk with, much against my
will, at night’s-noon, as we say.
But then he went on with a lot more strange talk, about how he had a
kind of holiday, or as we say frolic-time, ’lowanced out to him once
every hundred years, on the annewersery of the day when all this
piece of work took place; only he was not let loose, so to speak, till
midnight, and then for only three hours.
Well, I’d heard some tough uns before, and didn’t mind what I had
heard; but them eyes!--when I looked up at his face they bowled me over
altogether. He was no mortal, that I could take my davy on.
For a little Dutchy walked in silence, and I found _my_ tongue and
asked him if he didn’t fare cold, seeing he only had a kind of shirt on!
He turned his eyes upon me, and then I saw I had made a mistake in
asking such a question; fancy what a silly thing to ask a chap with
a furnace in his innards. But he was not put out at my question, and
wolunteered a explanation, as the saying is.
He opened his mouth and asked me to look into it. Well, if I live to be
as old as our neighbour Ives, and she is a hundred and three, I shall
never forget the sight. He blazed internally like a dustpan of live
coal, and the sight made my knees quiver, as if the heat of his breath
had melted my marrer, or whatever it is holds a fellow right up. I’ve
heard tell of men’s hearts waxing faint, and I do believe that that
night my bones were no better than wax, for hold my frame up straight I
could not, however I tried, and I am not reckoned a coward when any job
is on hand that wants a steady nerve and strong hand; and I’ve been out
on the sea some rum wather too, but the sight down this fellow’s throat
done me entirely.
When he had shown me his furnace below, he went on to tell me that
what I had seen was the sin burning within him, and it could only be
quenched by the forgiveness of the girl he killed three hundred years
ago.
Well, of course I could not say that that was all fudge, though I could
not believe him, but the funny part of it was, that when we got to
Eccles Old Tower there sat a young woman on the ruins of the porch in
a kind of night-shirt, as if she was waiting for us. That of course
showed me that there was some truth in what Dutchy had been telling me,
and when I nodded to the young woman, she gave me a very pretty smile,
and said she was glad to see me, and that now I had come matters might
be set right, and they could obtain a little rest.
Then she chatted on and told me that she had for a long time forgiven
Dutchy, knowing that he had that within him that must have burnt away
all sin long ago, but that without a mortal witness she could not
forgive him, as the sin had taken place on earth. She owned that it was
her cruel conduct that had brought on the Dutchman’s revenge, and now
before me as witness she would forgive him, and seal the forgiveness
with a kiss.
Lors me! when they kissed I thought the poor man would have been blowed
to pieces, for he exploded intarnilly with a tremenjous report, and the
flames shot out of his mouth, ears, and eyes like rockets, and went
wizzing away in streaks right over the marrams, where they were soon
swallowed up in the dark and thick air.
Now my legs did give way, and down I went with my back agen the church
wall, and although I was spellbound, I could see and hear all that went
on before me.
[Illustration: “By the sheen of the foam I beheld two skelingtons
sitting in their coffins.”--_p. 157._]
Dutchy, whose eyes and mouth no longer shone, snatched up my lantern,
stooped over me, and took my brass box of matches and struck a
light, then seizing the spade, he set to work, and very soon had the
huge coffin out of the sand. But the strange thing about it was, that
it was the very one I had come to rob, only now there were no bones in
it, and it dawned upon my stupid brain that Dutchy and the skelington
was one! Where he got his flesh and shirt from goodness only knows.
The young woman, who was very pretty and had long hair down her back,
which blew out like a ship’s pennant in the gale, helped the giant by
holding the lantern, while he did the work.
The big coffin being placed above ground, away they went round to the
other side of the church, where Dutchy set to work digging again, and
after a little while cleared the second coffin, which I reckon belonged
to the girl.
While this was going on I had raised myself on to my marrer-bones,
and with my fingers hooked over the old church wall was taking a view
of all their doings, and no doubt I was all eyes and mouth if any one
could have seen me.
Presently the giant up-ended the big coffin and got it on his shoulder,
and as he and the girl came round by the tower, she stopped and
actually asked for another kiss. Such a request took my breath away,
and to avoid the awful dullor[16] which I expected would follow, put my
fingers into my ears, but, would you believe me, it was as human a kiss
as ever you saw, and not even a whiff of smoke appeared, let alone a
tongue of flame, when their lips met.
He also carried the little coffin down to the water’s edge, and then
up he came, and dragged the big one down by the side of it, and there
they lay, for all the world like two boats.
Then back they came right to where I was, a-cowering by the flint wall,
and says Dutchy--
“Tank you werry much for der lantern and der spade,” and he held out
his great hand as he added, “Farewell.”
I was very loath, but I took it, and as true as I am alive, it felt
damp and cold like the hand of a dead man, and sent a thrill along my
backbone I shall never forget.
Then the young woman came forward and thanked me, and put forth _her_
hand for me to shake, and I shook something very like a fish, but did
not shudder quite so much, as I was a bit more used to it after the
first shock, so to speak.
After that they walked down to their coffins and each got into the
right one, and as I did not follow too close, Dutchy turned round and
beckoned me to him, and with fear and trembling I obeyed, and tottered
down to the water’s edge.
“Now, mynheer,” said he, “when you see der change kom, push der boads
off.”
I had no idea what he meant, but I shuddered out a kind of “Yes,” and
there they sat, till presently he cried out--
“Now den, push avay!”
As he spoke, I floated them off, and they appeared to melt partly away,
and to change colour from the pinky tinge of life to the grey of death.
They floated: and by the sheen of the foam I beheld two skelingtons
sitting in their coffins, scudding against wind and tide right out to
sea, slashing through the great breakers as if they had no more weight
or power than mists.
Dutchy’s skelington arm was round where his companion’s waist ought to
have been, when I last saw them, as they burst through a big old roller
that would have sunk a billyboy schooner.
Where they were bound for goodness only knows; neither do I care. All
I know is, that I got home some time or other, for when I woke up the
week after, they told me I was better, and that I had had brain fever.
When I got well, I went to Eccles to see if what I had got into my
brainpan was all moonshine or no, but if you’ll believe my word, the
two coffins I had seen dug up by Dutchy were gone sure enough, which I
take it proves my story to be ker-rect.
* * * * *
My nautical friend, on leaving my van, had not the remotest notion that
he had told me a story, and as to my being able to send him to sleep,
why, he simply laughed at such a thing as an impossibility.
In his normal condition I tried in vain to draw him out to spin a yarn,
but although he owned that he knew some “real rum ’uns,” I could not
prevail on him to tell me one. He merely sat and smoked, and did little
more than carry on a disjointed monosyllabic conversation.
“Why will you not spin me a yarn, my friend?” I asked.
“Why, sir, you see,” said he, “I ain’t no scholard, and although I may
_think_ a great deal, I’m no sort o’ hand at _talking_. I never could
frame[17] enough to tell anything in a kinder pretty way like some
folks. No, sir, you don’t ketch me opening my mouth to be papered [put
in print] for gentlefolks to laugh and make game of me.”
That being so, I had no alternative but to make him a victim, with the
result chronicled above.