"Bring him in," I said; and four stout fellows carried the insensible
figure of a well built young man into the surgery and laid him on the
couch.
"How was this?" I exclaimed. "There, shut the door, we don't want a
crowd in here."
"It was Harry Linney got teasing him, sir, and betting him he couldn't
climb up the outside of the church tower."
"And he climbed up and fell, eh?" I said, going on with my examination.
"Yes; that's it," said one of the men, staring.
"How stupid!" I exclaimed. "Men like you to be always like a pack of
boys."
"Is he killed, doctor?" said another in awestruck tones.
"Killed? no;" I replied, "but he has broken his left arm, and yes--no--
yes--his collar-bone as well."
"Poor old chap," said a chorus of sympathising voices, and after
bandaging and splinting the injuries I sent the man home.
He was too healthy and active a man to be ill long, and he rapidly
improved, and in the course of my attendance I used to smile to myself
and wonder whether Darwin was not right about our descent from the
monkeys; for certainly the climbing propensity was very strong in Fred
Fincher, who used to laugh when I talked to him about the folly of men
to climb.
"Well, I dunno, sir," he said, "climbing's very useful sometimes. I'm a
carpenter, and I have to climb a good deal about housetops in my trade,
and nobody says it's foolish then."
"That's a necessity," I replied. "Yours was only a bit of foolish
bravado."
"Well, suppose it was, doctor," he said smiling. "Anyhow I was not
killed. It was nothing like getting up to oil the weathercock after
all."
"Oil what weathercock?" I said.
"Our weathercock, sir."
"I don't know what you mean."
"I mean at the old place, sir. You see this is how it was:--
"We'd got a weathercock a-top of our church spire at High Beechy; and it
was a cock in real earnest, just like the great Dorking in Farmer
Granger's yard; only the one on the spire was gilt, and shone in the sun
quite beautiful.
"There was another difference, though. Farmer Granger's Dorking used to
crow in the morn, and sometimes on a moonlight night; but the gilt one
a-top of the steeple, after going on swinging round and round, to show
quietly which way the wind blew, took it into its head to stick fast in
calm weather, while in a rough wind--oh, lor' a' mercy! the way it would
screech and groan was enough to alarm the neighbourhood, and alarm the
neighbourhood it did.
"I wouldn't believe as it was the weathercock at first, but quite took
to old Mother Bonnett's notion as it was signs of the times, and a kind
of warning to High Beechy of something terrible to come to pass.
"But there, when you stood and saw it turning slowly round in the broad
daylight, and heard it squeal, why, you couldn't help yourself, but were
bound to believe.
"Just about that time a chap as called himself Steeple Jack--not the
real Steeple Jack, you know, but an impostor sort of fellow, who, we
heard afterwards, had been going about and getting sovereigns to climb
the spires, and oil the weathercocks, and do a bit of repairs, and then
going off without doing anything at all--well, this fellow came to High
Beechy, saw the Rector, and offered to go up, clean and scrape the
weathercock, oil it and all, without scaffolding, for a five pound note.
"Parson said it was too much, and consulted churchwarden Round, who said
`ditto;' and so Steeple Jack did not get the job even when he came down
to three pound, and then to a sovereign; for, bless you, we were too
sharp for him at High Beechy, and suspected that all he wanted was the
money, when, you know, we couldn't have made him go up, it being a risky
job.
"The weathercock went on squeaking then awfully, till one afternoon,
when we were out on the green with the cricketing tackle for practice,
the Rector being with me, for we were going to play Ramboro' Town next
week, and the Rector was our best bowler.
"He was a thorough gentleman was our Rector, and he used to say he loved
a game at cricket as much as ever, and as to making one of our eleven,
he used to do that, he said, because he was then sure that no one would
swear, or take more than was good for him.
"Speaking for our lot, I'm sure it made us all respect him the more; and
I tell you one thing it did besides, it seemed to make him our friend to
go to in all kind of trouble, and what's more, it fetched all our lot in
the cricket club to church when I'm afraid if it hadn't been out of
respect to the parson we should have stopped away.
"Why, I've known him on a hot evening at practice between the overs
suddenly cry `Hold hard!' with the ball in his hands, and say--
"`Tell you what, my lads, I think a glass of Tompkins's home-brewed
wouldn't be amiss just now. Smith, my man, will you step across and
tell them to send me a gallon?'
"Then when it was brought all cool and foaming from out of the cellar,
and he took the first glass as a matter of course, he'd got a knack of
saying something sensible to a man in a way as did more good than the
preaching in a month of Sundays.
"`That!' he'd say, with a smack of the lips when he'd finished the cool
draught, `That's good, refreshing, invigorating, and hearty. What a
pity it is some men will be such fools as to take more than is good for
them. Come, my lads, another glass round, and then to work.'
"Why, you may laugh at me, but we all of us loved our parson, and he
could turn us all this way or that way with his little finger.
"Well, we were out on the green, as I said, and the talk turned about
oiling the weathercock, and about how we'd heard as Steeple Jack, as he
called himself, had undertaken to do Upperthorpe steeple, as is thirty
feet lower than ours, and had got the money and gone off.
"`I thought he was a rogue,' said Billy Johnson. `He looked like it;
drinking sort of fellow. Tell you what, I'm game to do it any time you
like.'
"`Not you,' says Joey Rance. `It ain't in you.'
"`Ain't it,' says Billy, tightening his belt, and then--
"`My good man,' says the Rector, `I couldn't think of allowing it.'
"You see, ours was a splendid spire, standing altogether a hundred and
seventy feet six inches high; and as it says in the old history, was a
landmark and a beacon to the country for miles round. There was a
square tower seventy feet high, and out of this sprang the spire,
tapering up a hundred feet, and certainly one of the finest in the
county.
"`Oh, I'd let him go, sir,' says Joey: `he can climb like a squirrel.'
"`Or a tom-cat,' says another.
"`More like a monkey,' says Sam Rowley, our wicket-keeper.
"`Never mind what I can climb like,' says Billy. `I'm game to do it; so
here goes.'
"`But if you do get up,' said the Rector, `you will want tools to take
off and oil the weathercock, and you can't carry them.'
"Just then a message came from the house that the Rector was wanted, and
he went away in a hurry: and no sooner had he gone than there was no end
of chaff about Billy, which ended in his pulling up his belt another
hole, and saying--
"`I'm going.'
"`And what are you going to do when you get up there?'
"`Nothing,' he says, `but tie the rope up to the top of the spire, and
leave it for some of you clever chaps to do the work.'
"`What rope shall you use?' I said.
"`The new well rope,' says Billy. `It's over two hundred feet long.'
"Cricketing was set aside for that day, for Joey Rance went off and got
the rope, coming back with it coiled over his arm, and throwing it down
before Billy in a defiant sort of way, as much as to say--
"`There, now let's see you do it.'
"Without a word, Billy picked up the coil of rope and went in at the
belfry door, to come out soon after on the top of the tower, and then,
with one end of the rope made into a loop and thrown over his shoulders,
he went to one edge of the eight-sided spire and began to climb up from
crocket to crocket, which were about a yard apart, and looking like so
many ornamental knobs sticking out from the sides.
"We gave him a cheer as he began to go up, and then sat on the grass
wondering like to see how active and clever the fellow was as he went up
yard after yard climbing rapidly, and seeming as if he'd soon be at the
top.
"The whole of the village turned out in a state of excitement, and we
had hard work to keep two brave fellows from going up to try at other
corners of the spire.
"`He'll do it--he'll do it!' was the cry over and over again.
"And it seemed as if he would, for he went on rapidly till he was within
some thirty feet of the top; when all of a sudden he seemed to lose his
hold, and came sliding rapidly down between two rows of crockets, faster
and faster, till he disappeared behind the parapet of the tower.
"We held our breath, one and all, as we saw him fall, and a cold chill
of horror came upon us. It was not until he had reached the top of the
tower that we roused ourselves to run to the belfry door, and began to
go up the newel staircase to get to the poor fellow, whom we expected to
find half-dead.
"`Hallo!' cried Billy's voice, as we got half-way up the corkscrew, `I'm
coming down.'
"`Aint you hurt, then?' cried Joey Rance.
"`No, not much,' said Billy, as we reached him by one of the loopholes
in the stone wall. `Got some skin off, and a bit bruised.'
"`Why, we thought you were half killed,' we said.
"`Not I,' he replied, gruffly; `the rope caught over one of the
crockets, and that broke my fall a bit.'
"`Going to try again?' said Joey, with a sneer.
"`No, I aint going to try again, neither,' said Billy gruffly. `I left
the rope up at the top there, thinking you were so clever you'd like to
go.'
"`Oh, I could do it if I liked,' said Joey.
"`Only you daren't,' said Bill, rubbing his elbows, and putting his lips
to his bleeding knuckles.
"`Daren't I?' said Joey.
"Without another word he pushed by Billy, and went on steadily up
towards the top of the tower.
"`I hope he'll like it,' said Billy, chuckling. `It aint so easy as he
thinks. Let's go down. I'm a good bit shook, and want a drop of
brandy.'
"Poor fellow, he looked rather white when we got down; and to our
surprise on looking up, on hearing a cheer, there was Joey hard at work,
with the rope over his shoulder, climbing away, the lads cheering him
again and again as he climbed higher and higher, till he at last reached
the great copper support of the weathercock, and then, drawing himself
up a bit higher, he clung there motionless for a few minutes, and we
began to think that he had lost his nerve and was afraid to move.
"But that wasn't it--he was only gathering breath; and we gave him a
cheer, in which Billy Johnson heartily joined, as, up there looking as
small as a crow the plucky fellow gave the weathercock a spin round,
afterwards holding on by his legs, clasped round the copper support,
while he took the rope from his shoulders, undid the loop, and then tied
it securely to the great, strong copper rod.
"All this time he had had his straw hat on; and now, taking it off, he
gave it a skim away from him; and away it went right out into space, to
fall at last far from the foot of the tower.
"Joey now began to descend very slowly and carefully, as if the coming
down was worse than the going up, and more than once he slipped; but he
had tight hold of the rope with one hand, and that saved him, so that he
only rested, and then continued his task.
"You see, the spire sloped so that he did not hang away from it, but
against the stone sides; and so we went on watching him till he was
about half-way down, when he stopped to rest, and, pulling up the rope a
bit as he stood with one foot on a crocket, he tied in it a big loop,
slipped one leg right through, and sat in it, swinging to and fro as he
held on to the rope so as to rest his legs.
"We gave him another cheer, and so did the Rector, who just then came
up, when Joey waved his hand.
"As he did this, something occurred which took away my breath; for, poor
fellow, he seemed to slip, and, before we could utter a cry, he turned
over and hung head downwards, falling, with his leg slipping through the
loop, till his foot caught; and he hung by it, fighting hard for a few
moments to get back, but all in vain; and, as we watched him, his
struggles got weaker, so that he did not turn himself up so far when
trying to reach the loop where his ankle was caught; and at last he hung
there, swinging gently to and fro, only moving his hands.
"By this time the Rector, I and two more had got to the belfry door, and
we ran panting up the dark staircase till we got out upon the leads.
"`Hold on, Joey,' I shouted. `I'm coming.'
"`Make haste,' he cried faintly, `I'm about done.'
"By this time I was about ten feet up, and climbing as hard as I could,
forgetting all the danger in the excitement; for I don't think I should
have dared to go up on another occasion.
"It was very hard work, and as I climbed the wind seemed to blow
terribly; but I got up and up, panting as I did so, till at last I was
clinging there with one foot resting on a crocket, wondering what I
should do.
"`Look sharp, lad,' said poor Joey, `It seems as if all my blood was
rushing into my head.'
"I leaned over and got hold of the rope close to his ankle, but do
anything more I could not. I had all the will in the world to help the
poor fellow, but it took all my strength to keep myself with one hand
from falling; and as to raising my old companion, I neither had the
strength nor the idea as to how it could be done.
"The only way out of the difficulty seemed to be to take out my knife
and cut the rope, and then the poor fellow would be killed.
"`Come down,' cried a voice below me.
"Looking towards the leads, there was the Rector stripped to his shirt
and trousers, and with a coil of rope over his shoulder--for the new
well rope had proved to be long enough to let him cut off some five and
thirty feet.
"`Don't leave me,' groaned Joey, who was half fainting. `I feel as if I
should fall any moment. I say, lad, this is very awful!'
"`Here's the parson coming up,' I said.
"And so it was; for he went to the row of crockets on the other side of
Joey, who now hung, looking blue in the face, and with his eyes closed.
"`He must make haste--make haste,' he moaned, softly.
"I stopped, holding on, while the Rector climbed up quicker than either
of us had done it, drawing himself up by his arms in a wonderful way
till he was abreast of we two--me holding on, and Joey hanging on by one
foot.
"As soon as the Rector reached us, he said a few words of encouragement
to Joey, who did not speak a word, and then climbing higher, tied the
short rope he carried to the long rope just above the loop-knot which
held Joey's ankle. Then coming down a little, he tied his rope tightly
round Joey, just under the armpits.
"`That will bear you, my lad,' he said. `But catch fast hold of it with
your hands, while I cut your foot free.'
"Climbing up higher once more, he pulled out his knife, opened it with
his teeth, and then began to saw through the strands of the loop that
held Joey's ankle, till there was a snap, a jerk, and a heavy swinging
to and fro; for the poor fellow had fallen two or three feet, and was
now hanging by the rope round his breast right way upwards.
"He did not make any effort for a few minutes, and as cheer after cheer
came to us from below, he swung there, with us holding on for dear life.
"`Can you climb down now, Rance,' said the Rector, `if I cut you free?'
"`No, sir,' he said hoarsely, `I've no use in my arms or legs--they're
all pins and needles.'
"`Then we must lower you down,' said the Rector, calmly. And getting
hold of the long piece of rope, he climbed up once more, as coolly as if
he was on an apple tree in his own orchard, and saw that the knots were
fast; then coming down, he passed his long rope through the one round
Joey's breast, and tied it again round him.
"`Now,' he said, `Fincher and I will hold on by this rope, and you can
let yourself slide through the other loop--one arm first, and then the
other, steadily.'
"The poor fellow had hard work to do it; but the loop was loose enough
to let him work it over his head, and then with the Rector striding
across from the crocket at one angle to that on the other, and me
holding on to the rope as well, we let him down, sliding with his back
to the stone, till his feet touched the leads, when he fell down all of
a heap.
"`Untie the rope,' said the Rector, `and get him down.'
"He spoke very hoarsely, shouting to them below; and a cheer came up.
"`Now, Fincher,' said the Rector, `we've got to get down.'
"As he spoke, he made a running noose in the rope with the end he held
in his hand, let it run up to the the big noose, and pulled it tight.
"Then he made an effort to get his legs together on one angle; but the
distance he had been striding was too great, and he couldn't recover
himself, but swung away by his hands.
"`I can't help it, Fincher--I must go first,' he cried. And he was
already sliding down the rope as he spoke; but I was so unnerved and
giddy now, that I dared not look down.
"I believe I quite lost my head then for a few moments; for I was
clinging there for life a hundred and twenty feet above the ground, and
the wind seemed to be trying to push me from my hold.
"I was brought to myself, though, just as the landscape about me seemed
to be spinning round, by feeling the rope touch my side; and I clasped
it convulsively with both hands, and then, winding my legs round it,
slid rapidly down, the rope seeming to turn to fire as it passed through
my hands.
"A few moments later, and I was safe on the tower leads, trying like the
rest to smile at the danger we had passed through; but it was a faint
sickly kind of smile and we were all very glad to get down to the green,
and cared nothing for the cheers of the people.
"The rope was left hanging there, and stayed till it rotted away; but
somehow before a week was out, that weathercock stopped squeaking, as if
some one had been up to oil it, and, though nothing was said about it,
I've always felt as sure as sure that the Rector went up by himself and
did it early one morning before any one was up.
"He was cool-headed enough to do it, for he certainly saved Joe Rance's
life, and I know no one in the village would have done it without
bragging after. At all events, the weathercock was oiled, and as I said
over and over again to Joey, `if Parson didn't oil that weathercock, who
did?'
"That all goes to prove what I say," I replied when he had finished.
"You were all guilty of foolhardiness just to gratify a little vanity."
"Well, you see, doctor, no man likes for his mates to think him a
coward."
"Let them think, so long as you know you are not."
"That's what Parson said," replied Fincher, "when he talked about it
next day."
"Then _Parson_, as you so politely call him, was quite right."