_Tit._ Fear her not, Lucius; somewhat doth she mean:
Canst thou not guess wherefore she plies thee thus?
_Boy._ My Lord, I know not, I; nor can I guess;
Unless some fit or frenzy do possess her:
For I have heard my grandsire say full often,
Extremity of griefs would make men mad:
And I have read that Hecuba of Troy
Ran mad through sorrow: that made me to fear.
_Tit. Andron._--Act. iv.
The knocking grew louder and louder; but the old woman answered not a
word; on the contrary she seemed only the more earnestly intent on her
spinning. At length a little rustling was heard; by some artifice the
door was unbolted from the outside; and somebody stepped in. Even then
the old woman did not stir from her seat; and the man who had entered,
flinging down a heap of old drift wood, opened the conversation
himself:
"What's the matter now, mother, that you keep me so long waiting?"
"Waiting!" retorted the old woman without raising her eyes from her
wheel, "_you_ waiting!--Humph! A pretty waiting _I_ should have, if I
were to wait on every idle fellow that knocks."
"Aye, mother; but think of the weather and the frost that----"
"The frost? I tell thee what--a bonnier lad than thou, and one that I
loved better far, lies frozen in his grave."
"Well, here's a brave load of wood! I gathered it on the beach."
"Wood! aye, ragged fragments! There's many such drifting about in this
world."
"Like enough, mother: and, ragged as they are, there's many a bold
fellow with rags on his back that would be glad to warm his hands over
them."
"There's one in his grave will never warm himself again." And here the
old woman began to mutter her unintelligible songs.
"So!--the old crooning!" said the young man to himself: and, going up
to the fire, he said--"Mother, you mind nothing: you've no thought for
any of us; and one of these days you'll be doing something or other
that will bring the police rats upon us: and then all's up; and we
shall all go to the old tree."
"To the tree? go, and welcome! And I'll go with you. All the tribe of you
is not worth a hair of _him_ that I knew once. And when the day comes
that some are outside and knocking at the door that _shall_ knock (well
I wot) one of these days,--and all you are hushed and trembling within,
and the proudest of you shaking at the knees,--then comes my time for
laughing: and I will open the door, and cry--Here they are!"
The young man muttered something to himself, pushed aside the cauldron,
and laid on some faggots and dry wood,--so that the rude hovel was
suddenly illuminated with splendour.
"Aye!" said the old woman, "best make a beacon-fire, and light all the
constables up hither!"
"Well, better be hanged than freeze!--But, mother--mother, where's the
warm broth for the poor perishing soul when he wakes?"
"What!" said the old woman angrily, "shall I go down on my knees, and
tend him like a son of my own? Well I remember the day (woe is me!) that
they all scoffed at me when I moaned for one that was _not_ a stranger:
as God's my help, I'll be no laughing-stock again: it's my turn to laugh
next."
"But Nicholas, mother--it's Nicholas that bids us tend him; and our
souls are pledged for the stranger's."
"Nicholas! eh? Oh! yes, bonny Nicholas! And _his_ soul is in pledge
too. The old one has had him once by the head: and for that time he let
him go: but he _has_ him for all that: the noose is fast; and there's
no sheers will ever cut _that_ noose."
Without paying any further regard to her words, the young man filled a
kettle with water and placed it on the fire: then, shaking the old
woman's arm--as if to rouse her (like a child) into some attention to
his words--he said to her earnestly:
"Mother Gillie, now boil the sea-man's drink of thyme, ground-ivy,
pepper, ginger, honey, brandy, and all that belongs to it--you know
how: make it, as you make it for ship-wrecked folk; and give it every
hour to the poor soul there: and remember this--mother Gillie's life
answers for his."
Like a child that has been told to do something under pain of
punishment, the old woman answered--"Aye, aye; thyme, ground-ivy,
pepper, ginger"--and went about her work. The young man then came up to
the bed; and, laying his hands on Bertram, said--
"Ah, poor soul! he'll never be warm again: the sea has broke over him
too roughly: but no matter: mother Gillie must brew the drink, if the
man were a corpse; for Nicholas has said it.--Well, mother, God bless
you! and another time when a Christian and one of us knocks at the door
on a winter's night, sing out--_Come in!_ and, if he should chance to
be cold and thirsty, give him a glass of brandy; and think now and then
that a living man is made of flesh as well as bones."
"Whither away then, Tom? To Grace, I'll warrant--the wench that has
snared thee, and carries thee away from all thy kinsfolk."
"No: I must be gone to the castle; for Sir Morgan hunts in the
morning."
"Ah! _that_ Sir Morgan! _that_ Sir Morgan! He wheedles thee, Tom; and
to serve him thou leavest thy old mother. He and the young lady, and
that lass Grace build houses for thee; but a mother's curse will pull
them down."
"Mother, the baronet is my good friend: his father gave mine the
oat-field by the shore: his grandfather saved mine from death in
Canada: and the Walladmors have still been good masters; and we have
still been faithful servants: and, let the white hats say what they
will,--them that the quality calls radicals,--my notion is that people
should stick to their old masters, and be true to them; and that's best
for both sides."
"Go, get thee gone to thy boat,--falsehearted lad; snakes will rear
their heads out of the water, and seize on him that honoureth not his
parents and that forgetteth his brother!"
Without shewing the least displeasure at these angry words, Tom took
his leave; and the old woman now addressed herself in good earnest to
the task of preparing the cordial for the young stranger. He meantime
had gradually recovered his entire self-possession; and from the
conversation between mother and son, most of which he understood, he
had drawn conclusions which tended more and more to alarm him at his
total loss of power over his limbs. From the expressions of the old
woman, which marked an entire indifference about him, he anticipated
that she would be apt to mistake his apparent want of animation for a
real one; and busied himself with all the horrors which such an error
might occasion. But he was mistaken. The old woman followed the
directions of her son to the letter. When her preparations were
finished, a pleasant odour began to diffuse itself over the house; she
drew near to the sick stranger; and rubbed his breast with a handful of
the liquor. Almost immediately he felt the genial effects: the muscles
of his face relaxed; he breathed more freely; his lips opened; and she
poured a few spoonfuls of the cordial down his throat. Then wrapping
him up in blankets, she raised him with a strength like that of a stout
man rather than of an aged woman, and laid him down by the fire-side.
Here the cordial, combined with previous exhaustion and agitation, and
the genial warmth of the fire, soon threw him into a profound sleep. He
slept as powerless as a child that is rocked by its nurse, lulled by
the unintelligible songs which the old woman continued to murmur to her
spinning-wheel--and which still echoed through his dreams, though they
had lost their power to alarm him.
Some hours he had slumbered, when he suddenly awoke to perfect
consciousness and (what gave him still greater satisfaction) to the
entire command of his limbs. He unswathed himself from his blankets;
stood upright on his feet; and felt a lively sense of power and freedom
as he was once more able to stretch out his arms and legs. In the house
all was silent. The fire upon the hearth was glimmering with a sullen
glow of red light; and it appeared to be about day-break; window there
was none; but through a sort of narrow loop-hole penetrated a grey beam
of early light. This however lent no aspect of cheerfulness to the hut.
On the contrary, the ruddy blaze of a fire had given a more human and
habitable (though at the same time more picturesque) air to a dwelling
which seemed expressly contrived to shut out the sun and the
revelations of day light.--Looking round, he observed that the old
woman was asleep: he drew near and touched her: she did not however
awaken under the firmest pressure of his hand; but still in dreams
continued at intervals to mutter, and to croon snatches of old songs.
An instinctive feeling convinced Bertram that he was a prisoner, and
that it would be advisable for him to quit the hut clandestinely: this
purpose he prepared to execute as speedily as possible. Without delay
he caught up his portmanteau and advanced to the door. It cost him no
great trouble to find the bolts, and to draw them without noise. But,
on opening the door and shutting it behind him, he found himself in
fresh perplexity; for on all sides he was surrounded by precipitous
banks of earth, and the faint light of early dawn descended as into a
vault through a perforated ceiling. However he discovered in one corner
a rude ladder, by means of which he mounted aloft, and now found that
the roof of this vault consisted of overarching eglantine, thorn
bushes, furze, and a thick growth of weeds and tangled underwood. From
this he soon disengaged himself: turning round and finding that the hut
had totally disappeared from sight, he now perceived that the main body
of the building was concealed in a sort of cleft or small deserted
quarry, whilst its roof, irregularly covered over with mosses and wild
plants, was sufficiently harmonized with the surrounding brakes, and in
some places actually interlaced with them, effectually to prevent all
suspicion of human neighbourhood. At this moment a slight covering of
snow assisted the disguise: and in summer time a thicket of wild cherry
trees, woven into a sort of fortification by an undergrowth of nettles,
brambles, and thorns, sufficiently protected the spot from the scrutiny
of the curious.
Having wound his way through these perplexities, he found his labour
rewarded; for at a little distance before him lay the main ocean. He
stood upon the summit of a shingly declivity which was slippery from
the recent storm, and intersected by numerous channels; so that he was
obliged in his descent to catch hold of the bushes to save himself from
falling. The sea was still agitated; the sky was covered with scattered
clouds; and in the eastern quarter the sun was just in the act of
rising,--not however in majestic serenity, but blood-red and invested
with a pomp of clouds, which reflected from their iron-grey the dull
ruddy colors of the sun.
"When the sun rises red," said Bertram, "it foreshows stormy weather.
Have I then not had storms enough in this life?"--He looked down upon
the sea, and saw the waves as they rolled to shore bringing with them
spars, sails, cordage, &c., which either dashed to pieces against the
rocks, or by the reflux of the waves were carried back into the sea.
"Strange!" said he, "what has with difficulty escaped the sea--after
struggling fruitlessly for preservation--is destroyed in a moment
or carried back into the scene of its conflicts. Is not this the
image of my own lot? With what mysterious yearning did I long for
England! All the difficulties which threatened me on the Continent
I surmounted--only to struggle for my life as I came within view of the
English shores, to witness the barbarizing effects upon human kindness
of death approaching in its terrors, and at last perhaps to find myself
a helpless outcast summoned again to face some new perils."
He still felt the effects of his late exhaustion; and, sitting down
upon a large stone, he threw his eyes over the steely surface of the
sea. Looking upwards again,--he was shocked at beholding a few paces
from him the tall erect person of his hostess. She stood upon a point
of rock with her back to the sun, and intercepting his orb from
Bertram, so that her grey hair streaming upon the wind, her red cloak
which seemed to be _set_ as it were in the solar radiance, and the
lower part of her figure, which was strongly relieved upon the
tremulous surface of the sea, gave to her a more than usually wild and
unearthly appearance. Bertram shuddered as before a fiend; whilst the
old woman, by whose side crept a large wolf-dog, said with an air of
authority:
"So then I see the old proverb is true--_Save a drowning man, and
beware of an adders sting._ But I have power: and can punish the
thankless heart. So rise, traitor, and back to the house."
Bertram felt himself too much reduced in spirits, and too little
acquainted with the neighbourhood, to contest the point at present: he
considered besides that he was really indebted to her for attentions
and hospitality; and was unwilling to appear in the light of a
thankless guest. In this feeling he surrendered himself to her
guidance; but to gratify his curiosity he said--
"Good mother, I owe you much for my recovery: but who is it that I must
thank for my deliverance from the water? I was lying upon a barrel, at
the mercy of the waves. I lost my senses; and on recovering I find
myself with you, and know not how, or by whose compassion."
"What then? You'll never be a hair the drier for knowing _that_."
"But, mother, I had a companion in my misfortunes; was he saved along
with me; or have the waves parted us for ever?"
"Never trouble yourself about that: _you_ are saved; that's news enough
for one day:--if the other fellow is drowned all the better for him;
he'll not need hanging." Here the old woman laughed scornfully, and
sang a song of which the burthen was
High is the gallows, the ocean is deep;
One aloft, one below: how sound is their sleep!
Bertram now descended again into the hovel: and, finding that the old
woman would answer no more questions, he stretched himself upon his
bed; and throughout the day resigned himself to the rest which his late
exhaustion had rendered necessary.
From a slumber, into which he had fallen towards evening, he was awaked
by a gentle pressure upon his arm. He unclosed his eyes for one moment,
but shut them again immediately under the dazzling glare of a resinous
torch which the old woman held. In his present situation he thought it
best to dissemble; and therefore kept his eyes half closed, peering at
the same time from beneath his eye-lids and watching the old woman's
motions. She was kneeling by the side of his bed: with her left hand
she raised aloft a torch; with her right she had raised a corner of the
blanket and was in the act of examining his left arm, having stripped
his shirt sleeve above his elbow, and appearing at this moment to be in
anxious search of some spot or mark of recognition. Her whole attitude
and action betrayed a feverish agitation: her dark eyes flashed with
savage fire and seemed as though straining out of their sockets: and
Bertram observed that she trembled--a circumstance which strikingly
contrasted with the whole of her former deportment, which had
discovered a firmness and intrepidity very alien to her sex and age.
Presuming that her guest was asleep, the old woman now transferred her
examination to his right arm, which lay doubled beneath his body, and
which she endeavoured gently to draw out. Not succeeding in this, she
made an effort to turn him completely over. To this effort however,
without exactly knowing why, Bertram opposed all the resistance which
he could without discovering that he was awake: and the old woman,
unless she would rouse him up--which probably was not within her
intention, found herself obliged to desist. Her failure however seemed
but to increase the fiendish delirium which possessed her. She snatched
a blazing pine-bough from the fire; stepped into the centre of the
room; and, waving her torch in fantastic circles about her head, began
a solemn chaunt in a language unknown to Bertram--at first low and
deep--but gradually swelling into bolder intonations. Towards the end
the song became more rapid and impetuous; and at last it terminated in
a sort of wild shriek. Keeping her eyes fixed upon Bertram, as if to
remark the effect of her song upon him, the old woman prepared to
repeat it: but just at this moment was heard the sound of voices
approaching. A wild hubbub succeeded of wrangling, laughing, swearing,
from the side on which Bertram had ascended the ladder; and directly
after a clamorous summons of knocking, pushing, drumming, kicking,
at the door. The aged hostess, faithful to her custom, laid down her
pine-brand on the hearth; arranged the blanket again; and seated
herself quietly without taking any notice of the noise. Only, whilst
she turned her spinning-wheel, she sang in an under voice--
He, that knocks so loud, must knock once and again:
Knock soft and low, or ye knock in vain.
Mean time the clamorers without contrived to admit themselves, as the
young man had done before, but did not take the delay so patiently. It
was a company of five or six stout men, any of whom (to judge by their
appearance) a traveller would not have been ambitious of meeting
in a lonely situation. The general air of their costume was that of
sea-faring men; close, short jackets; long, roomy, slops; and coloured
handkerchiefs tied loosely about the neck, and depending in long flaps
below the breast. A fisherman's hat, with large slouched brim, was
drawn down so as nearly to conceal the face; all wore side-arms; and
some had pistols in their belts. In colours their dress presented no
air of national distinction: for the most part it seemed to be composed
of a coarse sacking--originally gray, but disfigured by every variety
of stains blended and mottled by rain and salt water.
Bertram could discover no marks of rank or precedency amongst these
men, as they passed him one by one, each turning aside to throw a
searching glance on the apparently sleeping stranger. As they advanced
to the old woman, they began to scold her: so at least Bertram gathered
from their looks, gestures, and angry tones; for they spoke in a
language with which he was wholly unacquainted. She, whom they
addressed, however seemed tolerably familiarized to this mode of
salutation; for she neither betrayed any discomposure in her answers,
nor ever honoured them by raising her eyes to their faces, but
tranquilly pursued her labours at the spinning-wheel. It was pretty
evident that the aged woman exercised a very remarkable influence and
some degree of authority over these rough seamen. She allowed them to
run on with their peal of angry complaint; and, as soon as the volley
was over, she started up to her feet with an authoritative air--and
uttered a few words which, interpreted by such gestures as hers, would
have been understood by a deaf man as words of command that looked for
no disobedience.
The men muttered, swore a little, and cursed a little; and then
sitting down in any order and place, just as every man happened to
find a seat, made preparations for a meal such as circumstances
allowed. Broth was simmering on the fire: from various baskets were
produced bread--ship-biscuit--and brandy; dried haddock and sprats were
taken down from the chimney; fresh herrings were boiling; and in no
long space of time the whole wealth of the hut, together with no small
addition imported by the new-comers, seemed in a fair way of
extinction. Bertram felt violently irritated by appetite to jump up and
join the banqueters: for this was the second night since his shipwreck,
and he was beginning to recover from his fatigues. But doubts and
irresolution checked him; and a misgiving that this was not the most
favourable moment for such an experiment; especially as he perceived
that he himself was the subject of general conversation. Without
relaxing in their genial labours, the men showed sufficiently by their
looks and gestures that they were deliberating on some question
connected with himself. The old woman now and then interposed a word;
and the name of Nicholas, as Bertram remarked, was often repeated by
all parties. Some person of this name continued to occupy the
conversation an hour longer. Frequently it happened that one or other
of the company uttered an oath in English or Dutch, and seemed disposed
to pursue the conversation in one of those languages; but in such cases
the old woman never failed to check him either by signs or in her own
language which was wholly unintelligible to Bertram: so that of the
entire conversation he could make out nothing more than that it related
to himself. After the lapse of about an hour, the whole party retired;
and the hut was again restored to its former solitude and quiet.