WHICH RELATES, AMONG OTHER THINGS, HOW BARNABAS LOST HIS HAT
Now as Barnabas stood thus, he heard another sigh, and glancing up
beheld Mr. Shrig seated at the little Cobbler's bench, with a
guttering candle at his elbow and a hat upon his fist, which he
appeared to be examining with lively interest.
"Sir," said he, as Barnabas approached, wondering, "I'm taking the
liberty o' looking at your castor."
"Oh!" said Barnabas.
"Sir, it's a werry good 'at as 'ats go, but it's no kind of an 'at
for you to-night."
"And why not, Mr. Shrig?"
"Because it ain't much pertection ag'in windictiveness--in the shape
of a bludgeon, shall ve say, and as for a brick--v'y, Lord! And
theer's an uncommon lot of windictiveness about to-night; it's
a-vaiting for you--as you might say--round the corner."
"Really, Mr. Shrig, I'm afraid I don't understand you."
"Sir, d' ye mind a cove o' the name o' 'Vistling Dick,' as got
'isself kicked to death by an 'orse?"
"Yes."
"And d' ye mind another cove commonly known as 'Dancing Jimmy,' and
another on 'em as is called 'Bunty Fagan'?"
"Yes, they tried to rob me once."
"Right, sir,--only I scared 'em off, you'll remember. Conseqvently,
p'r'aps you ain't forgot certain other coves as you and me had a bit
of a turn-up vith v'en I sez to you 'Run,' and you sez to me 'No,'
and got a lump on your sconce like an 'ard-biled egg according?"
"Yes, I remember of course, but why--"
"Sir, they 're all on 'em out on the windictive lay again to-night,
--only, this time, it's you they 're arter."
"Me--are you sure?"
"And sartin! Corporal Richard Roe, late Grenadiers, give me the
office, and Corporal Richard's never wrong, sir. Corporal Dick's
my pal as keeps the 'Gun' in Gray's Inn Lane, you may remember, and
the 'Gun' 's a famous chaffing-crib for the flash, leary coves. So,
v'en the Corp tipped me the vord, sir, I put my castor on my sconce,
slipped a barker in my cly, took my stick in my fib--or as you might
say 'daddle,' d' ye see, and toddled over to keep a ogle on you. And,
sir, if it hadn't been for the young gent as shadowed ye all the way
to Giles's Rents, it's my opinion as they'd ha' done you into a
corp as you come along."
"But why should they want to do for me?"
"V'y, sir, they'd do for their own mothers, j'yful, if you paid 'em
to!"
"But who would employ such a gang?"
"Vell, sir, naming no names, there's a party as I suspect from
conclusions as I've drawed, a party as I'm a-going to try to ketch
this here werry night, sir--as I mean to ketch in flay-grant
de-lick-too, vich is a law term meaning--in the werry act, sir, if
you'll help me?"
"Of course I will," said Barnabas, a little eagerly, "but how?"
"By doing eggs-actly as I tell you, sir. Is it a go?"
"It is," nodded Barnabas.
"V'y, then, to begin vith, that theer coat o' yours,--it's too long
to run in--off vith it, sir!"
Barnabas smiled, but off came the long, befrogged surtout.
"Now--my castor, sir" and Mr. Shrig handed Barnabas his famous hat.
"Put it on, sir, if you please. You'll find it a bit 'eavyish at
first, maybe, but it's werry good ag'in windictiveness."
"Thank you," said Barnabas, smiling again, "but it's too small, you
see."
"That's a pity!" sighed Mr. Shrig, "still, if it von't go on, it
von't. Now, as to a vepping?"
"I have my stick," said Barnabas, holding it up. Mr. Shrig took it,
balanced it in his grasp and passed it back with a nod of approval.
"V'y then, sir, I think ve may wenture," said he, and rising, put on
his hat, examined the priming of the brass-bound pistol, and taking
the nobbly stick under his arm, blew out the candle and crossed to
the door; yet, being there, paused. "Sir," said he, a note of
anxiety in his voice, "you promise to do eggs-actly vot I say?"
"I promise!"
"Ven I say 'run' you'll run?"
"Yes."
"Then come on, sir, and keep close behind me."
So saying, Mr. Shrig opened the door and stepped noisily out into
the narrow court and waited while Barnabas fastened the latch; even
then he paused to glance up at the sombre heaven and to point out a
solitary star that twinkled through some rift in the blackness above.
"Going to be a fine night for a little walk," said he, "Oliver vill
be in town later on."
"Oliver?" inquired Barnabas.
"Ah! that's flash for the moon, sir. Jest a nice light there'll be.
This vay, sir." With the words Mr. Shrig turned sharp to his left
along the alley towards the River.
"Why this way, Mr. Shrig?"
"First, sir, because they're a-vaiting for you at t'other end o' the
alley, and second, because v'en they see us go this vay they'll
think they've got us sure and sartin, and follow according, and third,
because at a certain place along by the River I've left Corporal
Dick and four o' my specials, d'ye see. S-sh! Qviet now! Oblige me
with your castor--your 'at, sir."
Wonderingly, Barnabas handed him the article in question, whereupon
Mr. Shrig, setting it upon the end of the nobbly stick, began to
advance swiftly where the shadow lay blackest, and with an added
caution, motioning to Barnabas to do the like.
They were close upon the River now, so close that Barnabas could
hear it lapping against the piles, and catch the indefinable reek of
it. But on they went, swift and silent, creeping ever in the gloom
of the wall beside them, nearer and nearer until presently the River
flowed before them, looming darker than the dark, and its sullen
murmur was all about them; until Mr. Shrig, stopping all at once,
raised the hat upon his stick and thrust it slowly, inch by inch,
round the angle of the wall. And lo! even as Barnabas watched with
bated breath, suddenly it was gone--struck away into space by an
unseen weapon, and all in an instant it seemed, came a vicious oath,
a snarl from Mr. Shrig, the thud of a blow, and a dim shape staggered
sideways and sinking down at the base of the wall lay very silent
and very still.
"Run!" cried Mr. Shrig, and away he went beside the River, holding a
tortuous course among the piles of rotting lumber, dexterously
avoiding dim-seen obstacles, yet running with a swiftness wonderful
to behold. All at once he stopped and glanced about him.
"What now?" inquired Barnabas.
"S-sh! d'ye 'ear anything, sir?"
Sure enough, from the darkness behind, came a sound there was no
mistaking, the rush and patter of pursuing feet, and the feet were
many.
"Are we to fight here?" demanded Barnabas, buttoning his coat.
"No, not yet, sir. Ah! there's Oliver--told you it vould be a fine
night. This vay, sir!" And turning to the left again, Mr. Shrig led
the way down a narrow passage. Half-way along this dim alley he
paused, and seating himself upon a dim step, fell to mopping his brow.
"A extra-special capital place, this, sir!" said he. "Bankside's
good enough for a capital job, but this is better, ah, a sight better!
Many a unfort'nate wictim has been made a corp' of, hereabouts, sir!"
"Yes," said Barnabas shivering, for the air struck chill and damp,
"but what do we do now?"
"V'y, sir, I'll tell you. Ve sit here, nice and qviet and let 'em
run on till they meet my four specials and Corporal Richard Roe,
late Grenadiers. My specials has their staves and knows how to use
'em, and the Corp has 's 'ook,--and an 'ook ain't no-vise pleasant
as a vepping. So, ven they come running back, d' ye see, theer's you
vith your stick, an' me vith my barker, an' so ve 'ave 'em front and
rear."
"But can we stop them--all?"
"Ah!" nodded Mr. Shrig, "all as the Corp 'as left of 'em. Ye see
they know me, most on 'em, and likevise they knows as v'en I pull a
barker from my cly that theer barker don't miss fire. Vot's more,
they must come as far as this passage or else drownd theirselves in
the River, vich vould save a lot o' trouble and expense, and--s-sh!"
He broke off abruptly and rose to his feet, and Barnahas saw that he
held the brass-bound pistol in his hand. Then, as they stood
listening, plain and more plain was the pad-pad of running feet that
raced up to the mouth of the alley where they stood--past it, and so
died down again. Hereupon Mr. Shrig took out his large-faced watch
and, holding it close to his eyes, nodded.
"In about vun minute they'll run up ag'in the Corp," said he,
"and a precious ugly customer they'll find him, not to mention
my specials--ve'll give 'em another two minutes." Saying which,
Mr. Shrig reseated himself upon the dim step, watch in hand. "Sir,"
he continued, "I'm sorry about your 'at--sich a werry good 'at, too!
But it 'ad to be yours or mine, and sir,--axing your pardon, but
there's a good many 'ats to be 'ad in London jest as good as yourn,
for them as can afford 'em, but theer ain't another castor like
mine--no, not in the U-nited Kingdom."
"Very true," nodded Barnabas, "and no hat ever could have had a
more--useful end, than mine."
"V'y yes, sir--better your castor than your sconce any day," said
Mr. Shrig, "and now I think it's about time for us to--wenture forth.
But, sir," he added impressively, "if the conclusion as I've drawed
is correct, theer's safe to be shooting if you're recognized, so
keep in the shadder o' the wall, d' ye see. Now, are ye ready?--keep
behind me--so. Here they come, I think."
Somewhere along the dark River hoarse cries arose, and the confused
patter of running feet that drew rapidly louder and more distinct.
Nearer they came until Barnahas could hear voices that panted out
fierce curses; also he heard Mr. Shrig's pistol click as it was
cocked.
So, another minute dragged by and then, settling his broad-brimmed
hat more firmly, Mr. Shrig sprang nimbly from his lurking-place and
fronted the on-comers with levelled weapon:
"Stand!" he cried, "stand--in the King's name!"
By the feeble light of the moon, Barnabas made out divers figures who,
checking their career, stood huddled together some yards away, some
scowling at the threatening posture of Mr. Shrig, others glancing
back over their shoulders towards the dimness behind, whence came a
shrill whistle and the noise of pursuit.
"Ah, you may look!" cried Mr. Shrig, "but I've got ye, my lambs--all
on ye! You, Bunty Fagan, and Dancing Jimmy, I know you, and you know
me, so stand--all on ye. The first man as moves I'll shoot--stone
dead, and v'en I says a thing I--"
A sudden, blinding flash, a deafening report, and, dropping his
pistol, Mr. Shrig groaned and staggered up against the wall. But
Barnabas was ready and, as their assailants rushed, met them with
whirling stick.
It was desperate work, but Barnabas was in the mood for it,
answering blow with blow, and shout with shout.
"Oh, Jarsper!" roared a distant voice, "we're coming. Hold 'em,
Jarsper!"
So Barnabas struck, and parried, and struck, now here, now there,
advancing and retreating by turns, until the flailing stick
splintered in his grasp, and he was hurled back to the wall and
borne to his knees. Twice he struggled up, but was beaten down again,
--down and down into a choking blackness that seemed full of griping
hands and cruel, trampling feet.
Faint and sick, dazed with his hurts, Barnabas rose to his knees and
so, getting upon unsteady feet, sought to close with one who
threatened him with upraised bludgeon, grasped at an arm, missed,
felt a stunning shock,--staggered back and back with the sounds of
the struggle ever fainter to his failing senses, tripped, and falling
heavily, rolled over upon his back, and so lay still.