DESCRIBES THE WOES OF GALLOPING JERRY, A NOTORIOUS HIGHWAYMAN
"An' now--wot about my door?" demanded a gruff voice. Starting, I
turned to find the landlord at my elbow and immediately my forlornness
grew intensified. I felt miserably helpless and at a loss, for the
man's sullen face seemed to hold positive menace and I yearned
mightily for Anthony's masterful presence beside me or a little of his
polite ferocity.
"Come--wot about my door?" demanded the landlord, more threatening
than ever. "Ten shillin' won't mend my door--"
"What door?" I questioned, fronting his insolent look with as much
resolution as I could summon.
"The door as you an' that desp'rit villain broke betwixt ye--fifteen
shillin'--ah, a pound won't pay for the mendin' o' my door--wot about
it--come!" Here he lurched towards me, shoulders hunched, chin
brutally out-thrust so that I shrank instinctively from him,
perceiving which, he grew the more aggressive.
"That will do!" said I in woefully feeble imitation of Anthony's
masterful manner. "That will do--and what is more--"
"Oh, will it do? Wot about my door?"
"You may charge it in your bill--"
"Not me, by goles! 'T is money as I wants--thirty shillin'--in my
'and--this 'ere very moment."
"I intend to stay the night, so will you please have a fire lighted in
your best--"
"Thirty-five shillin's the word--in my 'and--this moment--my fine
little gent--that's wot!"
Feeling myself quite powerless to cope with this drunken creature, I
shrank before him, trembling with mingled rage and disgust; perceiving
which, he scowled the fiercer and thrust a hairy fist into my face.
Threatened thus with bodily harm, I glanced hastily over my shoulder
with some wild notion of ignominious flight, but dignity forbidding, I
stood my ground sick with apprehension and with my sweating hands
tight-clenched.
"Smell it!" quoth the landlord, setting his fist under my nose. "Which
is it t' be,--forty shillin' or this?"
I was groping for my purse when over my shoulder came a large, plump,
red hand that took my scowling aggressor by an ear and tweaked it till
he writhed, and turning, I beheld the large, plump woman who, putting
me aside, interposed her comfortable bulk before me.
"Oh, Sammy," sighed she reproachfully. "You been a-drinkin'
again--shame on ye to go a-frightin' an' a-scarin' this poor child. Go
an' put your wicked 'ead under the pump this instant, you bad boy. As
for you, my pore lamb, never 'eed 'im; 'e bean't so bad when 'e's
sober. Come your ways along o' me, dearie." And folding me within one
robust arm she brought me into that room that was half bar and half
kitchen.
"There!" she exclaimed, leading me to the great settle beside the
fire. "Sit ye there, my lamb, and never mind nobody. Lor'! You be
a-shiverin' an' shakin' like a little asp, I declare. Poor child!"
sighed she, gustily commiserate, and patting my head with her great
plump hand. "Pore little soul--never mind, then!"
"Madam," said I, somewhat overwhelmed by her solicitude, "I am not so
very--so extreme youthful as you deem me."
"Ain't you, lovey?"
"Indeed, no! I am nineteen."
"Nineteen, dearie--lor', an' you s' small an' all--"
"I am five feet three--almost!"
"Are ye, dearie--lor'! But then I'm s' big, most other folks seems
small to me--'specially men--men is all children--'specially my man.
Which do mind me. Sammy," she called, "go into the wash'us an' let
Susie pump on ye. Susie, jest you pump water on your master's
'ead--this moment."
"Yes, ma'm!" And presently sure enough, from somewhere adjacent rose
the clank of a pump to the accompaniment of much splashing and
gasping.
"That'll do, Susie!"
"Yes, ma'm."
"Now you, Sammy, go an' lie down--this moment. 'E'll be all right
arter this, dearie. Susie!"
"Yes, ma'm."
"Go light a fire for this young genelman in Number Four. This moment."
"Yes, ma'm."
"The best chamber but one, dearie. And a feather bed!" All this as she
bustled to and fro, and very quietly despite her size, while I sat
gazing into the fire and hearkening to the patter of rain on the
windows and the wind that howled dismally without and rumbled in the
wide chimney so that I must needs wonder how it fared with the
travellers and if I should ever see either of them again.
"You look very lonesome, dearie!" remarked the landlady at last, with
a large wooden spoon in her hand. "Can I get ye anythink? A drop o'
kind rum or nice brandy--or say a glass o' purl--a drop o' purl took
warm would be very comfortin' for your little inside."
"Thank you--no!" said I, a little shortly. "But if you could oblige me
with pen, ink and paper, I should be grateful."
"Why, for sure, though I'm afraid the pen's broke."
"I'll cut another."
"Ye see there ain't much writin' done 'ere, 'cept by me with my
B-e-t-y for Betty and S-a-m-i-e for Samuel." So saying, she presently
set out the articles in question; then, having made shift to cut and
trim a new point to the quill, I wrote as follows:
NOBLEST AND BEST OF AUNTS:
It is now an eternity of twenty-four hours since I left the secure
haven of your loving care. Within this space I have found the world
more wonderful than my dreams and man more varied than a book. I have
also learned to know myself for no poet--it remains for me to convince
myself that I am truly a man.
As to my sudden departure, I do beg you to banish from your mind any
doubt of my deep love and everlasting gratitude to you, the noblest of
women, believe rather I was actuated by motives as unselfish as
sincere. Writing this, I pray that though this separation pain you as
it does me, it may yet serve to bring to you sooner or late a deeper
happiness than your great unselfish heart has ever known. In which
sincere hope I rest ever your grateful, loving
PEREGRINE.
P.S. I shall write you of my further adventures from time to time.
I was in the act of folding my epistle when I started, for above the
lash of rain and buffeting wind, it seemed that some one was hailing
from the road. Presently, as I listened, I heard a mutter of rough
voices without, a tramp of feet, and the door swung suddenly open to
admit two men, or rather three, for between them they dragged one, a
short, squat fellow in riding boots and horseman's coat, but all so
torn and bedraggled, so foul of blood and mire, as to seem scarce
human. His hat was gone and his long, rain-soaked hair clung in black
tangles about his bruised face and as he stood, swaying in his bonds,
I thought him the very figure of misery.
"House!" roared one of his captors. "House--ho!" In response the
landlady entered, followed by her sullen spouse (somewhat sobered by
his late ablutions) and the man Vokes.
"Lor'!" exclaimed the landlord, plump fists on plump hips and eyeing
the newcomers very much askance. "An' what might all this be?"
"Thieves, missus--a murderin' 'ighwayman--Galloping Jerry 'isself--a
bloody rogue--"
"'E looks it!" nodded the landlady. "Bleedin' all over my clean
kitchen, 'e be. Take 'im out t' barn--"
"Not us, ma'm, not us--'e's nigh give us the slip once a'ready, dang
'im!" Saying which, the speaker kicked the poor wretch so that he
would have fallen but for the wall, whereupon the man Vokes laughed
and nodded.
"Ecod!" quoth he. "I'm minded to try my boots on 'im myself."
"Not you, Mr. Vokes!" said the landlady. "No one ain't a-goin' t' kick
nobody in my kitchen, and no more I don't want no murderin' 'ighwaymen
neither--so out ye go."
"Not us, missus, not us! We be officers--Bow Street officers--wi' a
werry dangerous criminal took red 'anded an' a fifty-pound reward good
as in our pockets--so 'ere we be, an' 'ere we bide till mornin'. Lay
down, you!" Saying which he fetched the wretched captive a buffet that
tumbled him into a corner where he lay, his muddy back supported in
the angle. And lying thus, it chanced that his eye met mine, a bright
eye, very piercing and keen. Now beholding him thus in his
helplessness and misery, I will confess that my very natural and
proper repugnance for him and his past desperate crimes was greatly
modified by pity for his present deplorable situation, the which it
seemed he was quick to notice, for with his keen gaze yet holding
mine, he spoke, albeit mumbling and somewhat indistinct by reason of
his swollen lips:
"Oh, brother, I'm parched wi' thirst--a drink o' water--"
"Stow ye gab!" growled the man Tom. "Gi'e him one for 'is nob, Jimmy."
But as his nearer captor raised his cudgel, I sprang to my feet.
"That'll do!" I cried so imperatively that the fellow stayed his blow
and turned to stare, as did the others. "You've maltreated him
enough," said I, quite beside myself; "if he desires a little water
where's the harm; he will find few enough comforts where he is going?"
And taking up a jug of water that chanced to be near I approached the
poor wretch, but ere I could reach him, the man Tom interposed, yet as
he eyed me over, from rumpled cravat to dusty Hessians, his manner
underwent a subtle change.
"No, no, young sir--can't be--I knows a genelman when I sees one, but
it's no go--Jerry's a rare desperate cove an' oncommon sly--"
"Then give him the water yourself--"
"Not me, sir!"
"I tell you the man is faint with thirst and ill-usage--"
"Then let 'im faint. A young gent like you don't want nothin' to do
wi' th' likes o' 'im--let 'im faint--"
At this I set down the jug and taking out my purse, extracted a
guinea.
"Landlord," said I, tossing the coin upon the table, "a bottle of your
best rum for the officers--a bowl of punch would do none of us any
harm, I think."
"Lor'!" exclaimed the landlady, sitting down heavily.
"By goles!" quoth the landlord, reaching for the guinea.
"Allus know a genelman when I sees one!" said the man Tom, making a
leg to me and knuckling shaggy eyebrow. So they suffered me to take
the water to their prisoner, who drank avidly, his eyes upraised to
mine in speechless gratitude.
"Don't believe 'em, brother," he whispered under cover of the talk
where the others clustered around the hearth watching the preparations
for the punch; "don't believe 'em, friend--I'm no murderer an' my pore
old stricken mother on 'er knees for me this night, an' my sweet wife
an' babbies weepin' their pretty eyes out, an' all for me. I'm a pore
lame dog, brother, an' here's a stile as be 'ard to come over;
howsomever, whether 'tis sweet wind an' open road for me by an' by, or
Tyburn Tree--why God love ye for this, brother!"
Here he closed his eyes and bowed his head as one in prayer, for I saw
his swollen lips moving painfully, then glancing up, beheld the man
Jimmy watching us.
"Wot's Jerry a-sayin' of, sir?" he questioned.
"Praying, I believe."
"More like cursing. Jerry's a-flamming o' ye, young sir. An' the punch
is ready at last." So while the storm raged outside, we sat down at
the table beside the hearth where glasses were filled from a great
bowl of steaming brew and forthwith emptied to my very good health.
And now to the accompaniment of howling wind and lashing rain, the Bow
Street officers recounted the history of Galloping Jerry's capture.
"'T were this evenin' as ever was just about dark, on the 'ill yonder.
About 'arf way up there's a biggish tree, an' we was a-layin' for 'im
there, Jimmy an' me, wi' our barkers ready, 'avin' been given the
office. Presently we 'ears the sound o' hoofs an' down 'ill easy-like
comes a mounted cove. It's 'im!' says I. 'Sure?' says Jimmy. 'Sartin,'
says I, 'I knows 'im by 'is 'at!' 'Werry good!' says Jimmy, an' lets
fly an' down comes the 'oss 'eadfirst, squealin' like a stuck pig, an'
away down 'ill shoots Jerry, rollin' over an' over, an' then we was on
'im wi' our truncheons an' we give 'im wot for--eh, Jimmy?"
"Ar!" quoth Jimmy. "We did!"
"And a werry pretty little job it were--eh, Jimmy?"
"Ar!" quoth Jimmy. "It were!"
"Considerin' 'im such a werry desp'rit cove an' all--an' a pair o'
popps in 'is 'olsters as long as your arm--they're in the pockets o'
my greatcoat yonder--you can see 'em stickin' out. Yes, a sweet,
pretty bit o' work as ever we done, eh, Jimmy?"
"Ar--though 'e floored you once."
"Aye--that was when 'e slipped off the darbies--Oh, a desp'rit cove
an' the more credit to us! A desp'rit villain--slipped th' darbies, 'e
did, an' us was forced to truss 'im wi' rope."
Here every one vied in expressions of acclaim and all eyes turned to
that shadowy corner where the prisoner sat crouched in the same
posture, bloody head bowed feebly on bowed breast. And now, as the
glasses emptied and were refilled (with the exception of mine), we
hearkened to tales of horrid murders and ghastly suicides, of gruesome
deeds and bloody affrays of hunters and hunted until the landlady
gasped and, calling the maid for company, went off to bed, while the
men turned to stare uneasily behind them and I myself felt my flesh
creep. But as the great bowl emptied, tongues began to stutter, and in
the midst of a somewhat incoherent reminiscence of Tom's, the man
Vokes snored loudly, whereupon Tom blinked and pillowing his bullet
head on the table, promptly snored also; and glancing drowsily around
upon the others, I saw they slumbered every one. Hereupon I rose,
minded to seek my chamber, but before I reached the door I was
arrested by a hoarse whisper:
"Brother--for th' love o' God!"
Peering towards the captive, I saw him upon his back, his face ghastly
in the shadow. "Oh, brother," he whispered faintly, "I think I'm
a-dyin'! Show kindness to a dyin' man an' ease my poor arms a bit."
Moved by pity for his misery and seeing how cruelly he was bound, I
contrived, with no small ado, to loosen his bonds somewhat, whereupon
he blessed me faintly and closed his eyes. "If ye could bring me a
drop more water, death 'ud come easier," he whispered.
So I rose and, coming to the table, found the jug empty, therefore out
I went to the place beyond where I judged was the pump, and here found
a bucket brimming with water wherewith I filled the jug. Creeping back
to the kitchen, I stopped at once, my heart thumping, for to my wonder
and dismay I beheld the prisoner on his feet, free of his bonds and
rubbing and chafing his wrists and hands and arms. Then all at once
this pitiful creature leapt to swift and terrible action, for at one
bound, as it seemed, he had reached the chair where hung the officer's
greatcoat, whipped forth and cocked the pistols and with these
murderous things levelled in his hands, crept upon the sleepers. The
jug slipped from my nerveless hold and, roused by the crash of its
fall, the man Tom lifted his head only to stare dazedly into the
nearest pistol muzzle and the awful scowling face behind it; while the
highwayman, reaching out his second pistol, awoke Mr. Vokes with a
smart rap on the crown, whereupon, cursing drowsily, he sat up,
clasping his hurt and immediately sank cowering in his chair, which
action roused the landlord who stared, gasped a feeble "Lorramighty!"
and sat motionless.
"Norra word!" quoth the highwayman. "Let a man s' much as whisper an'
I blow that man's face off. Ah, an' by hookey, I would, whether or no,
if I was th' bloody rogue ye tell me for, 'stead of an 'ighly
respectable genelman o' the road with a eye to business. So now turn
out your pockets all--an' quick about it."
It was strange to see with what apparent eagerness each man stripped
himself of such valuables as he possessed, all of which the highwayman
appraised with expert eye.
"Young master," quoth he, beckoning to me with a flourish of his
nearest pistol, "come you here!" Trembling I obeyed and at his command
transferred the spoil to the capacious pockets of his muddy coat--in I
thrust them with unsteady fingers,--rings, purses, a couple of
watches, silver snuff and tobacco boxes, etc.: which done, he bade me
fetch the ropes that had bound him.
"Now you," quoth he, tapping the flinching Tom's bristly cheek with
his pistol barrel, "you're a likely cove at tying knots--get to work,
my lad, and sharp it is!"
So under his watchful eye, Tom proceeded to bind his companions very
securely to their chairs, which done, the highwayman again summoned me
and commanding Tom to remove his belt, constrained me to bind the
officer's arms behind him therewith and scarce knowing what I did, I
lashed the man Tom fast to his chair. This done, the highwayman showed
me how I must gag them and when this had been done to his
satisfaction, he nodded:
"And now," quoth the highwayman, his battered features twisted in a
wry smile as they sat thus gagged and helpless, "hearken all. If I was
the murderous cove you name me, I might cut your throats as ye sit,
which would be a j'y, or I might shoot ye or set the place afire an'
roast ye, 'stead o' which I spits on an' leaves ye. An' now, young
master, for your own sake--come along o' me; they'll likely be arter
you too for this as a accomplice o' the fact. So come along o' Jerry
an' damn their eyes an' limbs, say I!" With which, having stayed to
kick Mr. Vokes and the two Bow Street officers, he thrust pistols into
pockets and seizing me in powerful grip, hurried me away.