AN INTERRUPTED ADDRESS
Imagine a long, bare-looking apartment with white-washed walls and
generally cheerless appearance, in one corner of which had been pushed
aside black boards, piles of maps, and other evidences of the
school-room. Seated on benches which reached to the entrance door was
a very fair sprinkling of the Porlock labourers and tradespeople, whose
healthy red faces were shining with soap and expectation, and whose
whole appearance denoted a lively and creditable desire to be
enlightened on the very important subject which they had come to hear
discussed. If any one was interested in the land question surely they
were, for they all lived either upon it or by it, except a few whose
nautical garb betrayed another occupation, and whose presence was the
subject of a great dead of good-humoured chaff before the proceedings
opened.
"Eh, Bill," cried one of the land toilers whom I knew well, for he
worked at Farmer Smith's up at Bossington, "what dost want know about
t'land, eh? This'll noa teach thee to catch fishes."
"Never thee moind aboot that, Joe," was the good-humoured answer, "we
want noabody to teach us how to catch fish, we don't. I ha' come t'
hear what the bloke from Minehead's got to zay 'bout you poor de'ils o'
landsmen just out o' curiosity like."
"Coom, Bill, I like that," returned the first speaker. "Poor de'ils,
indeed! Bean't we as well off as you vishers, eh!"
"Noa, of course you bean't. How can yer be when every voot of land yer
tread on belongs to your maesters? Why, we can go sailing away vor
days on the zea, lads, and we've as much roight theer as any voine
gentleman in his steam yacht. T' zea belongs to us zall, yer zee, and
we as goes vishing ha' got as much roight theer as any one. I reckon
we've got the best o' you landsmen theer, eh, Bill. Ha, ha, ha!"
To my deep regret this interesting discussion was here brought to a
sudden termination by the appearance of my father, the lecturer, and
the committee upon the platform. Instantly there was a deep silence,
for country audiences, in that respect, are far better bred than town
ones, in the midst of which my father, in a few kindly, well-chosen
words, introduced the lecturer to them.
When he resumed his chair there was a burst of applause (Devonshire men
are generous with their hands and feet), at the conclusion of which the
lecturer, a retired linen-draper from Minehead, stepped forward. Of
course his doing so was the signal for another little round of
cheering, during which he stood rustling his papers about, edging down
his cuffs, and making desperate efforts to appear at his ease, which he
most certainly was not. At last he made a start, and in less than five
minutes I found myself devoutly wishing that he would look sharp and
finish. The land question may be an immensely interesting one--no
doubt it is; but when it consists in having long strings of depressing
statistics hurled mercilessly at you by a nervous little ex-vendor of
calico, who made a point of dropping his h's, you can very soon have
enough of it. Before long I saw my father politely stifle a yawn--a
piece of delicacy which I, not being upon the platform, did not think
it necessary to imitate. The audience behaved admirably. The painful
efforts written on the faces of most of them to appear intelligently
interested were quite affecting, and at exactly the proper moments they
never failed to bring in a little encouraging applause. I'm quite sure
there wasn't one of them who understood a word of what the man was
saying, but they were evidently charitably inclined to put this down to
their own stupidity rather than to the incompetence of the lecturer.
He had been droning on for about half-an-hour, when a slight commotion
caused by the noisy entrance of some late-comers led me to turn my
head. Instantly my spirits rose, for I foresaw a row. The new-comers
were all Luccombe men, and between the men of Luccombe and the men of
Porlock there existed a deadly enmity. They were rivals in sport and
also in politics, for whilst Luccombe boasted a Radical club, Porlock
was distinctly Conservative. The arrival of these Luccombites,
therefore, was most promising, for they certainly had not come out of
compliment to their neighbours, and I took an early opportunity of
changing my seat for one nearer the back of the room, so as to be in
the fun in case there should be any.
It certainly seemed as though something would come of it. There were
several strangers amongst the new-comers, and one of them in particular
attracted my attention. He was a big, white-faced man, with
continually blinking eyes and stupid, vacuous face, and every now and
then he gave vent to his feelings by a prolonged animal cry which
afforded the most exquisite amusement to his companions, and never
failed to produce the utmost consternation in the lecturer's startled
face. I don't know why it was so, but I took a violent dislike to that
man the moment I saw him. He was so ugly, so like an animal, besides
which he was evidently half drunk. He seemed of a different species
altogether to the broad-shouldered, ruddy-faced, good-humoured
Devonshire men by whom he was surrounded, and a very inferior species
too.
After a while my attention was distracted from him to the other
Luccombites, who were evidently bent upon breaking up the meeting. The
lecturer was by no means the sort of man to defy the uproar, and insist
upon finishing what he had to say. After a very mild protest, the
meekness of which caused a howl of derision from the peace-breakers, he
brought his lecture to an abrupt close and sat down.
Then my father rose, and spoke a few stern reproving words which had an
infinitely better effect. But I was too occupied in watching the
extraordinary behaviour of the white-faced man from Luccombe to listen
to them. He had half risen to his feet, and was leaning over the back
of one of the benches with his eyes and mouth wide open, staring with a
stupidly-bewildered look at my father. Suddenly he turned round to his
companions.
"Say, lads, should you like to see me shut that joker up?"
I felt hot with indignation, but I kept still.
"Ay, Jack, or Thomas, or whatever your name is," answered one of the
Luccombites, "give him a cock-a-doodle-do."
The man smiled an ugly, sickly smile.
"I'll do better nor that," he muttered. "Listen, you 'ere," and,
leaning forward, he shouted out one word at the top of his voice--"Yah!
coward!"
I saw my father reel backwards as though he were shot, and the word he
was uttering died away upon his lips. For a moment I hesitated whether
to rush to him or at the man who had yelled out that word. But one
glance at his ugly, triumphant face decided me. With two rapid strides
I was across the room, and my hand was on his collar.
"Come on!" I shouted, "come along!"
He turned his fishy eyes up at me in amazement.
"What d'ye want? What d'ye mean?" he called out. "Let me go, you
young cub, you! You're choking me."
"I'll do worse than choke you before I've done," I cried, passionately.
"Come outside and fight, you great beast," and I dragged him half
across the floor, for he was striving to free himself and shaking like
a jelly-fish.
The audience had sat quite still in their places until now, only half
realising what was going on. But at my words it seemed suddenly to
dawn upon them, and they crowded around us with a full appreciation of
my intended action.
"Let him be, Maester Hugh; we'll bring him along," they cried heartily,
for there was not one whom I did not know. "We won't let him go, no
fear. Who be 'e to call Maester Arbuthnot names?"
The man whom I jealously released shook himself sulkily and slouched
along in the middle of the crowd towards the door.
"I don't want to be let go," he sneered. "If the boy wants a whipping
I'll give it 'im. Most like he's a coward like his father though, and
won't stand up to it."
My blood was boiling, but I would not answer; there were others to
speak for me, though.
"You'd best keep that d---- tongue of yours fro' wagging in yer ugly
mouth," cried Jim Holmes the blacksmith. "The lad's i' the right to
stand up for his father, and, boy or no boy, he's like to make a
jelly-bag o' you. Bring him on to the green, lads."
They brought him on to the green, and quickly formed a ring. The
policeman, who was present as a delighted spectator, and who never
dreamt of interfering, was good enough to hold my coat and waistcoat,
whilst my adversary, unable to find any one willing to perform the same
kind office for him, had to deposit his on the ground. He seemed in no
hurry to declare himself ready, but at last the word was given, and we
stood face to face. Even then he held up his hand for a minute's
longer grace, and stared at me as though I were a ghost.
"My God!" he muttered to himself, "it's Mr. Herbert's own self! It's
just as he looked at me in the tent;" and he stared at me as though
frightened, yet fascinated.
Then we began. Of course I am not going to describe the fight. If we
had been alone I should probably have killed him. As it was, they held
me off by sheer force when they thought that he had had enough, and
there was life still in him when I turned away, followed by an
enthusiastic little crowd. But not much.
I went straight to the school-room. It was deserted, and the gas was
turned down. From one of the loiterers outside I heard that my father
had gone home, and hastily bidding good-night to the little crowd who
still hung about my heels, I followed in the same direction.
I had thought that I should have overtaken my father, and at every turn
of the lane I looked forward to catching sight of him. But I was
disappointed, and when I at last reached home without having done so, I
began to feel nervously uneasy. I did not at once enter the house, but
looked in at the window. My mother and Marian were alone, working. I
looked through into the hall. Neither his hat nor coat were there. He
could not have yet returned. And when I realised this I stepped back
on to the lawn, pale and shivering, for a horrible foreboding had laid
hold of me. What could have become of him? Where could he have gone?
I could not imagine, I dared not conjecture.