Martha opened the door to us so quickly as to give me the notion she had been waiting behind it in expectation of our coming. She showed me into a room which looked wondrous comfortable after the one I had just left; and a cold chicken, bread, and a bottle of wine were pleasant things to see, for I had the hunger of a famishing dog. Anna came in, and compelled me to sit down to eat and drink, untidy and dirty as I was, with the horse-blanket round my body. She would not suffer me to talk much, and Martha bustled in with fresh supplies until I declared I could eat no more. Then the doctor came to examine my arm. He whistled as he laid it bare.
"How droll you English are!" he exclaimed. "To think of using an arm in this condition! But, after all, it is fortunate you did."
Then, with much learned language, he endeavoured to explain to me how well it was that my wound had broken out afresh. He bathed and cleansed the arm, anointed and tied it up, talking all the time to Anna and Martha, who stood by to hand him things he wanted; but I was too heavy to pay attention, being half asleep before he had done with me. I felt some surprise at the appearance of Luke on the scene, but he had me speedily to bed.
Late the next day I awoke, brighter and fresher than I had been for many days, but exceedingly feeble. Luke brought me a draught of some strange kind of beer, which revived me greatly, and when I had taken it, he told me how he had returned late yesterday from Doncaster with the physician, and found everybody at Temple Belwood in much trouble about my disappearance. No one had surmised I might be gone to Sandtoft, but Luke naturally guessed my purpose; so, taking pole, lantern and cleat-boards, he made off to Belshaw, where he heard of my doings, and struck across the fen in a bee-line for the settlement. He had only to make the signals which had been agreed on between him and Martha, a whistle like that of the grey plover, followed by an owl's cry, to bring his sweetheart to their trysting place, but was confounded to learn that nothing had been seen or heard of me at Doctor Goel's. Prowling cautiously about, Martha keeping watch, he found the punt, and having this assurance of my being in the neighbourhood, he returned to Martha. As they entered within the palisade through an opening concealed by a clump of willows, a flare of cressets and torches showed me and my conductors going from the guard-room to the gallows, and they hurried to the doctor's house with the news. What followed is already written.
When I spoke of going home, the doctor took a tone of authority, and vowed he would detain me, by force, if need were, until he had satisfied himself I ran no more danger of losing my arm. I made no stout resistance, but despatched Luke to Temple to set my father's mind at ease, and bring me a change of clothing and other matters of which I stood in need, and settled myself down in the doctor's household most contentedly. A marvellous change had come over me, which may have been due to the removal of the venom from my blood, as the doctor affirmed, or to my being under the same roof with Anna, as I inclined to believe. No one seemed to apprehend further trouble from Vliet, and I began to doubt whether my experience of the previous evening had been real or only a nightmare. Doctor Goel sat in his own room, pipe in mouth, over leaves and roots and such like rubbish, now and then coming out to ask me questions, giving as his reason for so doing that I had a quick eye, and a habit of observation remarkable in one unskilled in the sciences, but I thought his true intent was to hinder my being alone with his daughter, albeit there was small chance of that, for Anna had housewifely duties (or made them), which caused her to be going and coming continually. Now it was to make up medicine for her father's patients; now to confer with Martha about kitchen matters; now to look out old clothing for some of the poorer sort among the settlers; always something to break off our converse as I approached the topic nearest my heart. So, despairing of a talk with her for the present, I made bold to interrupt the doctor in his curious pastime. He bore the interruption courteously, though he sighed as he put down his glass and ceased to pore over the stuff on the table. I asked him whether Vliet had abandoned his drunken freak at Mistress Goel's intercession.
"Freak? That is joke, is it not?" he replied. "It was no joke, Mr. Vavasour. Sebastian was enraged by the mischief done on the previous night, and he would have hanged you, but for my daughter's intervention. Oh yes. Perhaps he would have endangered his own neck. I know not. The law appears to be in abeyance in this part of England. But Sebastian would have taken his chance of that. It was inconvenient for you at the time, but what says your proverb? 'All's well that ends well.' My daughter was at hand to save your life. I was at hand to save your arm. I have the satisfaction to be of some service to a gentleman who has laid me under obligation. And there is now an end to a misunderstanding between my daughter and her affianced husband. She has consented to marriage within three months, and I have some hope of being permitted to return to my own country by that time. So 'all's well,'" the doctor concluded, smiling.
Married within three months! I wished Luke had lost his way, or Vliet had been more stubborn. What was my life worth to me, Anna being lost? But chained to a drunken ruffian! Better far, if I had been strangled last night. It could not be. It should not be.
I know not how my outward bearing betrayed my feelings, but the doctor perceived something of them, for he went on—
"There is a little irregularity, almost impropriety, in what I am about to say, but there will be mutual advantage, perhaps. I am aware you admire my daughter, and imagine yourself in love with her. Stay: listen to me for a short time. Doubtless you would describe your feeling in stronger terms. We will say you love her. Consider, will you, please, how impossible it is that her father should entertain a proposal of marriage from you. Your inheritance of your father's estate depends on your father's pleasure, if I am rightly informed?" (Who had informed him? I asked myself, as I nodded.) "The estate is heavily burdened, or so I am told?" Again I nodded, and wondered. "But, supposing your prospects were as good as they appear to be bad, could I consent to my daughter's being buried in a half-savage region like this? Could I allow her, esteemed as an ornament of the most intellectual society of Europe, to become the despised associate of fat farmers' wives, to whom the sale of poultry and butter is the main business of life, and whose amusements are coarse and frivolous in the extreme? It would be an unheard of folly on my part, even if there were no precontracted arrangement for my daughter's settlement in life. But it so happens she is affianced to a gentleman of large fortune, who has shown the sincerity of his attachment by striking proofs" ("And particularly last night," I murmured to myself), "not the least being that he has forsaken agreeable scenes and companions to endure exile to be near the lady of his choice."
I could hold my tongue no longer.
"You have brought Mynherr Vliet into discussion, doctor, so you must pardon me for asking whether you believe any lady can love the drunken brute? And, if not——"
"There is no need to treat the matter hypothetically," the doctor interrupted. "I can assure you my daughter has all the affection for Mynherr Vliet which her betrothed could reasonably look for. We are somewhat indelicate to touch on such a subject, but as I desire to clear away any delusion which may exist in your mind, I give you my word that any inclination toward yourself which you may have imagined, was nothing more than a passing sentiment. Young women of a certain turn of mind, nourished by poetry and the drama, are apt to entertain a transient fancy for a handsome young man, encountered in new scenes, especially when they are somewhat piqued by the supposed desertion of the accepted lover."
I looked at the old gentleman, who smiled on me benignly, as if confident in his knowledge of the heart of woman, and wondered whether he could by any possibility be right. Or was he deluding himself about his daughter's happiness, because he longed so much himself to be restored to home and friends and congenial pursuits? It might be true enough that Anna did not really love me, that I could well believe; but it was incredible she could love a beast like Vliet. While I sat silent, word was brought of Vermuijden's arrival, and of his wish to see the doctor and Anna. So I was left alone to ruminate. Some things which the doctor had said puzzled me not a little. As for what he had spoken against the Isle, I cared not a jot, nor was I much troubled about the low state of my fortune, which, in my youthful confidence, I hoped to mend in no long time. Could he be speaking truth when he said that Anna really chose to become the wife of Vliet? That was the question. I could not but think that her avoidance of me pointed that way. And yet, what passed near the gallows looked rather as if she gave her word to Vliet out of pure desire to save my life. But that promise, extorted under threat, and a threat which Vliet himself could not in his sober senses attempt to justify, could not be held binding. It was absurd to think it a sacred pledge. Nor could I believe Anna light-minded and fickle, even if her father accused her. Only one thing was clear to me—that I must have speech with Anna. While I sat pondering, I heard a knock at the door, and the buxom Martha came in to say Luke had returned and awaited my pleasure. Her bright, honest face was good to see, and I fell into talk with her. I asked her whether she had heard what passed between Mistress Goel and Vliet last evening.
"Nearly all, sir," she answered, "and wished I was a man for the first time in my life."
"Why so?"
"That I might have the strength to kill him then and there for torturing the brightest, sweetest lady on earth."
"He demanded a promise that she would marry him within three months, did he not?"
"Oh yes. He took no heed of reason or warning. He said you should die, whatever might afterwards happen to him, unless she gave him her word on the spot before witnesses."
"And Doctor Goel can think his daughter will be happy with him!" I said to myself, in amazement.
"Oh, the doctor!" cried Martha contemptuously. "He has wasted his brains on weeds and creeping things, until he has none left to understand his fellow-creatures with. He thinks of Sebastian Vliet as he used to be, before his cheeks were bloated and his hands shaky. Then the doctor has lost his money, or as good as lost it, in this mad business, and he wants to make up the loss to my mistress. He thinks Vliet has plenty of it, and hasn't sense to see that money melts like snow in April, when it is in the hands of a drunken gambler. And that is what Vliet is. Every night, when Vermuijden is away, he is toping and playing—and losing, for the men he plays with know all his tricks and more. Then he is rooked by the lord who comes to see him, and by another rascal who fetches and carries for the lord. Vliet's money is going at a great rate. But what does Vliet matter?"
"He seems to be of some importance, since he has Mistress Goel's word to marry him, and her father is well pleased it should be so."
"And what does that avail against a gentleman who loves her? Every lover I've heard of snapped his fingers at foolish old people, pinked his rival, and rode off with the lady."
"Unluckily," thought I, "one needs a purse as well as a rapier for that, and somewhere to ride to." What I said was: "But the lady must consent before even the hero of a ballad can run away with her."
"Consent!" repeated Martha. "And what's a lover good for, if he does not save her the trouble of consenting, cut all arguments short by stopping her mouth, and have it out with her parents when the ring is on her finger and the happy blush on her cheek? You may think me a bold hussy to talk so. But I know what I know. And my heart is sore to hear sobbing and praying all last night, and to see the dear angel with swollen eyelids, and a pitiful quiver on her lips this morning. One thing is certain, Sebastian Vliet will never call her wife. If he escapes drunken surfeit, shooting by the men he bullies, the knife of a boozing companion, the Almighty's lightning, I'll put rats-bane in his meat myself."
She looked as if she meant it, her face pale, her eyes glowing.
"Shall I send Luke to you, sir?" she asked in another voice.
Luke had much to tell me, but the sum of it was that my father's displeasure over my visit to Sandtoft and my continuance there was great; and Mr. Butharwick had charged Luke to entreat me to return without delay, the good old man being much alarmed by my father's anger. Neither had heard of my narrow escape from the gallows, as I had forbidden Luke to mention it.
Not until the evening of the next day did I get five minutes talk with Anna, who avoided me with astonishing skill; but, by Martha's help, I contrived to meet her as she came out of a house which was used as a hospital for sick and wounded Dutchmen. Even then she tried to escape me, but I would take no nay. She must go with me where there might be a talk without interruption, and that was on the river. When she had yielded, and we had got into a boat, she began to speak of her hope that the feud between the Dutch and the Islonians might be abated by a measure agreed upon at the council held the previous evening. Large pay was to be offered to such of the natives as could be induced to labour in cutting trenches, rearing embankments and carrying material. If the labour should not be directly profitable, the employment of it might help toward more amicable feeling. I suffered her to speak on, well knowing who had advised this course, until we came to a broad water with a small bank in mid-stream, on which grew an old birch tree. I ran the boat close under the tree, gave the painter a twist or two round an overhanging bough, shipped the oars, and took my turn to speak.
"The questions between Dutch and Islonians will keep, but not the question between us two. You know I love you, Anna. I can't tell you so in fine language, but never man loved woman more since the beginning of the world, or ever will to the end of it. I am a plain, rough fellow, and I have nothing to offer you but my love—not money, or land, or rank, or anything; but I will make or cut my way to something, please God, if you will come to me when I've done it. I think you love me, but you have never said so. Say 'I love you, Frank,' and——"
She stopped my long speech with one word—"Cruel!" and burst into weeping.
Then I nearly capsized the boat. It was a slight crazy thing, and my weight considerable, but I scrambled to her side, and, putting my arm round her, drew her head on to my breast. She did not see how narrowly we escaped an overturn, nor did she resist my embrace, but went on sobbing, as though her heart would break.
Then I found out that one can be heavenly happy and full of sorrow at the same time, for every sob of hers seemed to tear my bosom, while I knew not how to contain my joy. When she had recovered breath a little, she made as if to withdraw herself, but that I would not allow.
"But, Frank, I shall be doubly, trebly perjured, and grieve and shame my father beyond endurance."
"Say 'I love you, Frank,'" I insisted.
At last she did, and hid her blushing face against my breast. Then I told her—what I shall not repeat. And in a great trembling, I gave her a blundering, clumsy kiss. How long I should have talked in my rapture, trying to hearten my love, I know not, but the sun set without our perceiving it, until the deepening dusk made Anna exclaim about the time. So I took the oars and rowed away from the loveliest islet in the world. Martha stood at the door, watching for our coming, and as we entered the house, she seized my hand and lifted it to her lips.
The doctor had been summoned to a conference with his chief, so I had hope we might have a long evening to ourselves, but Anna nipped it in the bud.
"Fortune is kind," said she. "I will give you something to eat, and then you must away home."
"Away home? Why?" I demanded.
"Because my father will be very angry when he knows what we have done."
"The more reason I should stay with you."
"Oh, you stupid Frank! Do you think he will beat me? But, if you are here, he will say things he will one day be sorry for—things you may find it hard to forgive. Whereas, if I have him alone, I can coax, or scold, or cry, as may be needed, and bring him to reason."
"Running away does not suit me," said I.
"Nor would I send you away, if you could do the least good. There is nobody to be knocked down or thrown into the river just now; only an elderly gentleman to be managed. And there is another at Temple Belwood impatient to see his son. Go and do your best with him, leaving my father to me."
In the end I consented. I called Luke to prepare things for my going, and he had to tell me that a tract of the fen from Sandtoft, almost direct to Belton, had been recently flooded to a depth of two to three feet by the raising of an embankment for a drain which had been begun. In a light boat one might cross more easily and quickly than had been possible heretofore.
"Why not walk on the embankment?" I asked.
It seemed the bank was rough, and there would be awkwardness here and there in the growing darkness and a rising mist. So we settled on the boat as my conveyance. While we talked, Anna had made haste to provide supper for me, eager to have me gone, nor would she permit me to linger over the meal, or afterwards. I wanted to talk of our future, but she would not.
"Have you a ninepence?" she asked. "Rustic lovers break one, do they not?"
I broke one, and held out the halves to her.
She took one, and said, laughing, "Now we are properly plighted; what need of more words? When you bring your token, mine will be ready."
Rosy-red she blushed, as I took her in my arms, and held her against my quick-beating heart, and joined lip to lip. But she withdrew herself, cut short our leave-taking, and dismissed me.
I found Luke waiting for me with the little boat, and stepped in, bidding him stay at Sandtoft till morning, and bring me word of Mistress Goel then. He raised some objection to my going unattended, but I overruled him, and doubtless the prospect of a longer confab with Martha disposed him to obedience. He had put a lighted lantern into the boat, which would be useful, he reminded me, when I came to the will-pits. The will-pits were pools, reputed bottomless, half surrounded by very old birches, some still green, others fallen and rotting. Now the fen was under water, the trees might be plaguy unless I had a light, for the night was darker than nights are wont to be in August.
Thanking my good fellow for his care, I bade him good night, and sculled off rapidly, keeping well away from the embankment, lest there should be timbers near the foot of it. When I had gone about a mile, as I reckoned, I stopped sculling to pick up the lantern, and held it forward on the lookout for the will-pit trees. As I did so, I perceived that the boat drifted backwards and a little toward the embankment. How could there be a current in a sheet of standing water? But a current there certainly was; and running pretty strongly too. The Dutchmen could not be at work at this time of night, opening the sluice for any purpose that I could conjecture. There might be a defect in the embankment somewhere, a crack which was widening under pressure of water. Whatever might be the secret, my best course was to go an as fast as I could scull; so I took both in hand, pulling with all my might. Up to this time I had used only one scull over the stern, sparing my weaker arm. Not more than five minutes later the sculls scraped bottom and the boat stuck fast. Shipping oars, I leaned over the side, lantern in hand, and saw there were but a few inches of water all round the boat. I had not grounded on a mud-bank, but was stranded by the draining away of the water! What to do next was a question. If I could wade to the embankment, I could continue my journey on foot; but that was not to be ventured until I knew the nature of the ground, for in this part of the fen were many mire-pits, and to step into one of them meant being sucked down to a horrible death. I prodded the soil with a scull, and it went down like a spoon into porridge. I was right over a mire-pit. I tried sculling again, but that was of no use whatever. Then I attempted to thrust the boat forward, but there was nothing to thrust against. I stood up, holding the lantern above my head, peering through the mist, and saw a bush some six or seven yards ahead of me, so there was a bit of solid ground just beyond reach! If I had had a coil of rope with me, I might have thrown a loop into the bush, and so saved myself; but the painter was the only rope in the boat, and it was not more than six feet long. The only thing left for me was to wait as patiently as I could until morning, when some one might come within hail, or Luke might seek me, unless by good luck the water should rise again. 'Twas no great hardship after all: the night was not cold, but a shade chilly with the mist. As I came to this conclusion, I was startled by something which whizzed over my head and fell with a splash and a soft thud some yards beyond the boat. Somebody must be throwing from the embankment, and at me apparently. My lantern must assist his aim, so, not wishing to extinguish it, having no means of relighting it, I wrapped a thick neckerchief I wore over the horn, and stowed it in the bow. While I did this another stone crashed into the boat with such force that I judged it was hurled from a sling. Other stones followed in swift succession, but not more than one in three or four hit the boat; but one struck me such a thump on the buttock as to set me thinking what the consequence would be of receiving another blow like it in a more vital part.
I could not devise any kind of protection at the moment, but it occurred to me that a little dodge might puzzle my enemy. I pulled up one of the thwarts with no great effort, for the little craft was old and rotten, took off my coat to hide my operations from the enemy, cut a bit of the painter, and lashed the lantern to the thwart, and set it afloat on the water, trusting to the chance that it might drift away. I placed it with the horn on the side from the embankment, hoping it might go a little way before my assailant caught sight of it. To my great relief it glided gently off, not rounding until it had gone, as nearly as I could guess, some twenty yards. It drew his volleys for a while, and then it vanished, though whether he struck it, or it toppled over by chance, I knew not. While his attention was thus diverted from me, I had time to think what to do in case he contrived to discover my whereabouts again, which I was sanguine enough to consider unlikely. In this I was mistaken, my enemy was not to be so easily beaten. But I turned the temporary respite to the best advantage I could think of by tearing up the other thwart, so as to get room to stretch myself in the bottom of the boat, and rolling to one side, depressing the gunnel nearly to the surface of the water, thus shielding myself from hurt as long as the crazy boards might hold against his battery.
I had been none too quick. A faint red gleam began to show through the mist, and having some notion of what the enemy might be about, I slightly enlarged the aperture of a gaping seam, and looked toward the embankment. A fire had been kindled, and the man who had lighted it stood full in the glare of it. As I had supposed, the man was Vliet. He had a gun hanging at his back and a sling in his hand. Doubtless he had seen my departure from Sandtoft, pulled up the sluice-gate to let off the water, and followed me along the embankment. Chance had favoured him by stranding me on a spot from which I could not move. He had only to knock my boat to pieces, or even to make it unfloatable, and my fate was sealed. He could return to close the sluice, and in a few hours the water would cover both the boat and me. That was pretty safe, if he did no more than smash the boat. He would try to do more than that, I had no doubt. I could do nothing. To attempt to crawl over the slime would be to seek death. I must stick to the boat as long as the planks held together, hiding myself, if possible, and making no sound. He might imagine that I had escaped, or that I was dead, if I made no sign.
As I watched his doings, he gave me a ray of hope. He lifted a bottle to his mouth, and he did not tilt it high. How fervently I hoped that he had enough to get drunk on! His next move showed he was not by any means drunk at present. He walked away from the fire, often stopping down, as I supposed, to pick up stones. He evidently meant to spare powder and shot as long as he could, and to do his work as silently as possible. When he came back to the fire, he lighted a torch and descended the embankment, looking carefully, at the soil of the fen, as if he sought to get nearer to the boat, but he had too much prudence to venture. Then he ascended the bank and resumed his sling. He had found where the boat lay, for he managed to hit about once in three times. His aim was so bad that it would have been laughable under other circumstances, but I had no inclination to laugh, as plank after plank cracked and started. I turned over, and lay with my back to him, grinding my teeth with rage to be so ignominiously stoned and so utterly helpless. At length, perhaps after an hour of continuous firing, came a pause, and I turned over to look at my enemy. It was only too easy to see him through gaping seams and holes broken in the planking. He sat between the fire and me, so that his every movement was clearly discernible. If I had had a gun I could have shot him wherever I chose. He rubbed his right shoulder with his left hand, as if it ached with his exercise. Then he drank from his bottle, tilting it higher this time. He sat so long that I began to hope he imagined he had made an end of me; but by-and-by he rose to his feet, took his gun in hand, and prepared to fire. I rolled to the very edge of the gunnel now, and the water and ooze flowed softly in on me. It was well I did, for Vliet's aim with a gun was another matter than his aim with a sling. Shot after shot struck and riddled the heap of boards which had been a boat, but as by a miracle, shot after shot missed me. Vliet plainly believed that there could be no one in the wreck except a dead man, for he began to sing. Never have I listened to music, even the best, with more pleasure than I had in hearing that thick and drunken voice yelling a tuneless song! I watched him finish his bottle, scatter the fire, and heard by the diminishing noise that he was going back to Sandtoft.
It was not until he had gone, that I knew how cold and wet I was, and then discovered that the half of the boat on which I lay had sunk into the mire. At first I fancied that I had to do with nothing more serious than the ooze, which had flowed in when I lay on the edge of the boat; but by dipping my fingers straight down into the mud, I found that the pit was swallowing my raft and me slowly, but surely, at the rate, it might be, of a barleycorn a minute. I could not be sure of that, for I had no certainty about time. The one certainty was that the mud was gaining on me. I feared to move about, lest my weight should make worse of the wreck; but I could not lie still in the dark to be steadily sucked under, so I rolled over in a very gingerly manner, and by degrees pressed down the holed and shattered planking on to the surface of the mire, thus upheaving the side on which I had before lain. For a wonder it did not go utterly to pieces, and I lay on it some time before it began to be overflowed by the mud, when I turned gently over to the other side which had been raised by my weight. This gave way more quickly than before, but it held me up for perhaps ten minutes, and then I repeated the performance, and continued this kind of see-saw for, I should think, an hour or more, but on the seventh or eighth turning, with a great cracking, the one side parted from the other, the line of breakage being not far from the keel, as I made out by groping. For a second or two, I fell into despair, but soon perceived that my chances of escape were perhaps improved by the splitting of the boat. Kneeling on the less broken half, with my legs as far apart as I could stretch them, I tried to pull the other half upwards and forwards. It was hard work, for the mire held it fast, and my half sank at least half a foot while I tugged at the other, but at length I had the mass in front of me, and crawled on to it. My arms felt as if they were pulled half out of their sockets, but there was no time to rest. I must try to get the piece of the wreck on which I had knelt out of the mire and before the other. This proved a tougher job still.
Before the thing was done, I was up to the middle of my thighs in the pit, and almost spent, but done it was at last, and as I pushed it forward, it encountered some solid obstacle. There was dry ground, or a tree, not more than three yards or so ahead of me. That assurance gave me the strength of madness. I dragged myself a little out of the mud, and threw myself on the piece of wreckage with such force, that it sank beneath my weight so deeply that I was swallowed up in the mire, shoulder high. But the other end of my raft remained firm, and by clutching, writhing, pulling, I got inch by inch out of the slough, and, while doing so, to my unspeakable joy I perceived a faint glimmer of dawn. That showed me a down-drooping branch of birch above my head, which at last I reached, and clung to it trembling lest it should break. It held, and by its aid I gained solid ground. I threw my arms round the trunk of the tree as though it had been a human friend, laughing and sobbing in a breath. Then I vowed Sebastian Vliet should answer to me for his dastard trick before he was many hours older. After that, I remembered to thank God for my deliverance, and fell asleep over my thanksgiving. I must have slept an hour or more, for the sun was above the horizon when I awoke cold and shivering.
It would be wearisome to relate how I got home, for nothing happened by the way; though I have the keenest recollection of the effort it cost to walk the two miles, which were as long as twenty, my clothing being caked with mire even to my shirt, and my limbs shaking with cold and exhaustion.
But by the usual breakfast hour I had eaten and drunk, washed and changed, and was my own man again. I had need of all my strength, for my father came into the room with suppressed fury in face and voice.
"At last you have condescended to honour me," he began. "Have you come to say you will save Temple from the hammer, or that you choose beggary for yourself and disgrace for your father? Quick: let me know your mind."
"If you mean will I wed a girl I do not love——"
I was answering, when my father burst out—
"Bah! Do not sicken me with play-actor rubbish. Are you going to act like a man of sense and of honour, or like an idiot?"
"I will not offer marriage to Mistress Ryther," I replied.
"Then begone out of the house," he thundered, "and let me never see your fool-face again, and if there is anything in a father's curse, may it cling to you as long as you live."
At this moment, Mr. Butharwick entered the room with a feeble step. He stretched out his hands imploringly to my father, and said in a voice not his own—
"My honoured patron, my friend and benefactor," and something more which was indistinguishable, for his mouth began to work strangely. Then he staggered, and would have fallen but my father caught him in his arms, and laid him on the couch.
I called for help, and servants came hurrying into the room, to whom my father gave order about fetching a surgeon, and this, that, and the other, adding—
"Bid Savage, the attorney, come to me without delay." Then, turning to me, he said: "Will you go, or must I have you thrown out by the servants?"
My dear old tutor's face looked my way, and I thought I saw a beseeching in his eyes, but I could do nothing. I went out, haunted by the drawn face and the wistful eyes, and the face of my father hard as if cut in marble. It was my last sight of both of them.
Luke met me in the hall, and I bade him follow me to my room. He had a letter for me, the first I had received from my love, full of courage and cheer, which just then I sadly needed. Luke told me the doctor was transported with rage on hearing his daughter avow her fixed determination to abide by her promise to me, so that even Martha was terrified by his furious wrath. And my true-hearted love could write to sustain my nagging spirits when she was in such trouble herself! Everybody had been at a loss to understand Vliet, who had tried to soothe the doctor, affecting to think Mistress Goel would be in a more compliant temper by-and-by. I understood him well enough. The scoundrel was confident he had put me out of the way: he should soon know better. It eased my heart a little to write him a few lines, in which I challenged him to meet me in open fight, and declared I would hunt him down like a verminous beast if he was too cowardly to meet me fairly. This I gave to Luke to be delivered into Vliet's hand without loss of time.
After I had told Luke of my last night's adventure, to which he listened with wide eyes and some muttered curses, he cried out—
"From this time forrard, Measter Frank, I'se stick to you like your shadder."
"That is just what you will not do, my good fellow, for I am an outcast from my father's house; and where I may go, or what I shall do is all in the dark to me, except that I kill Vliet, if he does not kill me, to-day or to-morrow."
"Wherever you go, I go too," answered my man.
"That is quite impossible, Luke," said I. "We must part for the good reason that I have not five pounds in the world, and that won't keep me, to say nothing of a serving man, for many days. Besides," I added, "you can be much more useful to me by staying at Temple. I may want a friend in the house, and I want above all things, some trusty friend to watch over the safety of Mistress Goel, when I may be far away. You can come and go between this and Sandtoft, and I shall be sure that whatever two true souls can do for her will be done."
We argued and wrangled for a good while, Luke urging everything he could think of to induce me to take him with me, but I would not give way. He took my instructions sorrowfully, not to say sulkily, as to what was to be done with my belongings, the main of which I desired him to carry to the vicarage at Crowle, with a message to my aunt. Just then I could not face the dear lady, or bear her exclamations and expostulations, nor did I incline to see my friend Portington. I had resolved to spend the time between now and my duel with Vliet at Belshaw, in the company of my new friend, because there could be no heartrending talk with him, and also because I hoped to learn from him how to join Captain John Smith, which appeared to me the likeliest means of earning my living, with some chance of cutting my way to fortune. For the few days which I expected to pass in the neighbourhood, I meant to ride Trueboy, and afterwards to sell him to replenish my purse. These things being arranged, I appointed a place where Luke was to meet me the next evening, and went to the stables. I hoped to get away quietly, but it was not to be. Almost every servant in and about the house, down to the kitchen wench and the youngest stable-boy, had assembled to say good-bye to me, the women crying, and the men murmuring hoarsely what they meant for encouragement. They would have unmanned me, but for Trueboy. He, having had far too little exercise lately, was as frisky as an unbroken colt, rearing, and lashing out his heels in sheer delight, so the little crowd scattered right and left, and I mounted and rode off at full gallop across the park, the shortest cut to Belshaw.
"I suppose Vliet will be blotted out of existence, if he be fool enough to meet you, which I doubt. But, my friend, you are of a charming simplicity. We are not an extremely law-abiding people in the Isle, but there is a constable of the wapentake; there are justices of the peace. Would it have been very troublesome to send the Dutchman to Lincoln Castle to await his trial for attempted murder? He would have been out of the way for a time, at any rate, and there is just a chance he might have been hanged. You prefer to give him the opportunity to shoot you, or to devise some other means of killing you more convenient to himself. Or, if you should kill him, the law may be set in motion against you, probably by the gentleman who objects to you as a son-in-law. If you will be advised by me, you will retract your cartel of defiance, and take steps to commit Mynherr Vliet to gaol."
So spoke my friend Drury, when I told him how matters stood with me. One half of my mind held him wise, but that did not in the least quench my desire to settle my quarrel with Vliet man to man. I have often done things, knowing all the while I was a fool for doing them; my difficulty not being lack of wisdom (for my friends have always been ready to supply me with the best) so much as want of liking for it.
While I waited at Belshaw for the answer to my challenge, my friend gave me many particulars of the history of Captain John Smith, whom he thought one of the greatest men in the world, although the captain was his cousin.
"He is now in London," said John, "and in hope to lead another expedition. He will snap you up at a word. A tall fellow who has more lives than a cat, and relishes fighting better than his victuals, will suit him to admiration."
"There, indeed, you mistake me," I protested. "I am no lover of brawls, and would go far to avoid one."
"But not so far as to the house of a justice of the peace—eh?" answered John, with his low, pleasant laugh. "I have been wondering why you hate Lord Sheffield so cordially."
"Oh! that is a very old story. His younger brother—younger by nine or ten years—and I were playmates. He was a tender little chap, and I was a big, hulking boy; but I was his squire, ready almost to be his dog, partly because he was as delicate as a girl, and partly because he was of so fine a spirit. Child as he was, he could make me laugh or cry by the music he drew out of his fiddle. What was the driest taskwork to me was play to him, and while I slowly spelled out a story of Greece or Rome, he was somehow rapt away, and seeing it all enacted before his eyes. And he told tales of his own making such as I never heard or read. But I cannot describe him. His elder brother used to torment him with the devil's own cunning. Edmund was feeble in body and timid, but he scorned to be a coward. His chief pride he took in that his father had received the Garter for his courageous exploits against the Spanish Armada, and he would not own to fear, even when he was ready to die of it. Sheffield practised on the child's pride and terror, endlessly. An old mastiff, chained in the courtyard, was so savage (with some kind of pain, poor beast, I doubt not) that the kennel-man feared to deal with it. One day Sheffield dared his little brother to go up to the dog, swearing him a coward if he did not. Edmund went within the reach of the mastiff, and fell down in a faint. The dog was nobler than the brother, and did not touch the child. At another time, Sheffield tied a rope round Edmund's body and lowered him far down the deepest well, threatening to let go the rope, and paying it so fast as to terrify the boy into thinking he had done so."
"But why, in Heaven's name, didn't the little one appeal to his father?"
"He would have died sooner. He was drawn up from the well more dead than alive, and was ill for days after, but he never breathed a word about the torture he had been put to, except to me."
"But why didn't you acquaint his lordship with what went on? You couldn't be afraid of the big brother."
"I was afraid of my hero's contempt. He would have thought me dastardly, traitorous, I know not what, if I had told tales of the cruelty he was too proud to complain of himself. But there came an end to the business, and I made it. Looking for Edmund one day, I went into an outhouse, where Sheffield had the little fellow across his knee, held fast as in a vice, and the demon was pinching his tender body with slow, screwing pinches. Edmund was writhing and moaning. I didn't stop to think, but struck the tormentor's cheek as hard as I could with my fist, and the next instant we were going at each other with all our might. I was only a lad of fourteen and he a man of twenty-four, but I was tall and strong for my age. He knocked me down pretty often, but I was up like a cat and flew at him again, until, either in fear lest he should kill me, or in fear for himself, he opened the door and ran. Shortly afterward, as Edmund led me across the courtyard—for both my eyes were puffed up so that I could not see—it chanced that the earl met us, and would have an account of what I had been doing. Nothing loth, I answered his questions, and he heard enough to make him careful Edmund suffered no more at the hands of his brother. The dear little fellow died a year later. I could tell you more, but do you wonder I hate my Lord Sheffield?"
"No," answered John. "I don't wonder at that. I am inclined to wonder that he is still alive."
"I have had very little to do with him since Edmund's death. The earl, who used to have a kindness for me, seemed to shun the sight of me from that time forward."
In the afternoon Luke appeared, grinning as he entered the room.
"What tickles you so much?" I asked.
"That Dutchman," answered Luke, laughing outright. "Was as scart as if 'a'd seen a bogle, when 'a oppened t' letter, and said sommat in 's own lingo, swearing like. Asked me when you gev it me. So I says, 'This morning, when 'a came down to breakfass.' Then 'a stared at me with his mouth as wide as a church door, and I stared at him as simple as a sheep."
We laughed, and I opened Vliet's letter. He had written in Dutch for some unimaginable reason, perhaps because he was puzzled and shaken out of his wits.
Drury reached out his hand. "I have some acquaintance with the tongue," he said.
Vliet accepted my challenge, and would meet me the next evening at six o'clock at a spot about three-quarters of a mile from my present lodging, where we might be free from interruption. He would come alone. He chose the sword as his weapon, and sent me its length.
From time to time between the coming of Vliet's letter and the hour appointed, Drury expressed apprehension of some treachery on the part of the Dutchman, begging me not to go alone, and to have some other weapon besides my sword, but I smiled at his fears. As I said again and again, Vliet could not bring accomplices with him without my seeing them on the fen, and I meant to keep a good look-out. I would not take Luke with me, for I had other occasion for his service, namely, to go with a letter to Anna, in which I asked her to meet me on the following day. John shook his head over what he deemed reckless folly, and I laughed the more, though I felt sorry his long confinement to his couch had made him so timorous.
About five o'clock on Sunday evening, I ascended the rising ground behind the tavern, and watched for Vliet's coming, which was not long delayed. He came alone in a punt, and as far as I could see without other arms than his sword. I had pistols in my belt. I met him at the little wharf, and after salutations, we walked in silence to the ground, he making no remark on my firearms.
The country had never seemed more lovely to my thinking than it did on this still August evening. Ridges and islets, purple with ling, stood out of the green and golden brown of the fen; water-lilies, yellow and white, spotted the surface of the water, and patches of the blue trumpets of the gentian brightened the edges of the marsh. Young broods of duck and moorhen were playing and splashing near the shelter of the reed-beds, which swayed gently under the evening breeze, and the sound of Belton church-bells came, now loudly, now softly, with the rising and falling of the light wind. 'Twas not a suitable time or place for killing a man, methought, as I looked at the landscape, but a glance at Vliet changed my feeling. As for being killed myself, that never came into my mind. The road wound to the right, and again to the right, out of view of Belshaw, to a sort of natural terrace, which would fit our business. Above us on one side the ground sloped gradually upward to an oak plantation, thirty yards away; below the terrace there lay a sharp incline which ended at the margin of the fen.
"Dis vill do—dis vill do!" shouted Vliet at the top of his voice; and as I began a remonstrance at the noise he made, three horsemen rode swiftly out of cover of the plantation, one straight toward us, and the other two in a more curving course, as if to cut off my retreat.
"Yield, or we fire," said one of them.
I answered by drawing pistol out of belt, and shooting at the villain who had laid this ambush for me, but I missed him. Then I flew up the bank to an old tree, the nearest of the plantation. If I could get my back against it, there was a bare chance I might keep them all at bay for a short time, and the sound of firing might bring me help from Belshaw. I gained the tree, my pursuers close on my heels, but not firing. As I turned to face them, my foot slipped on one of the roots, and I fell backward against the tree with some force. With a great crunch, the bark gave way, and back I went into the hollow, jammed tight from rump to knees. Before I could work myself free, the men were on me. They disarmed, bound, and gagged me in no time, and then fell into great laughter at the ease of the capture. All three wore short cloaks with high collars, and had pulled their hats down over their brows, but I saw that one was Sheffield's big negro. Vliet lay down and roared with glee, and ended by rolling over near to me and spitting in my face. One of the others gave him a kick in the ribs, calling him "dunghill cock" in a voice I did not know. Vliet jumped to his feet, and drew his sword, but a cudgel fell like lightning on his wrist, disabling him for the present.
"No more waste of time," said he who had struck the blow. "You, Mynherr, will go north as far as Belton, and home by your new embankment. If you are questioned, you will say that you met Mr. Vavasour here, intending to fight him, but before you could draw sword, he rushed up the hill, and disappeared in the plantation."
"Backside first," one of the others threw in, laughing.
The first speaker continued, "He disappeared, and you could find no trace of him. It is a short story, and can be remembered, even when one is muddled with strong liquor. If you don't stick to it, you will be dead meat soon. Now, stir your stumps."
When Vliet had gone out of hearing, two of the men carried me through the plantation, on the other side of which ran the high-road. Here waited a fourth man in charge of a horse and cart. They bundled me into the cart, throwing sacks over me. I heard the man who had done all the talking say, "Two within hail in front, and one behind. Remember, you have nothing to do with me unless I whistle twice." So the director was my charioteer. By-and-by the jogging of the cart shook a piece of sacking from my face, and I could see the driver, a common labourer by his dress, with a fringe of ragged beard all round his face. He sat slouching forward, staring vacantly before him, as stupid as any lout in the Isle. As we rumbled through Epworth some one accosted him.
"Cartin' o' Sunday! What hasta getten theer?"
"Nobbut a half deead mon from Keadby for Doctor Hoggatt," was the reply. "Ah'd keeap ma distance, if ah wor theea, fur 'a smells loike t' plague tu meea."
The hint sufficed to make the inquirer sheer off quickly.
When we had passed through Epworth, we rattled on faster, and in half an hour arrived at the gates opening into the grounds of Melwood Priory, a house which had had many tenants since the Carthusians were driven out of it, and all unlucky. It had stood unoccupied now for ten or a dozen years, falling into decay, and was believed to be haunted by the ghost of Matthew Meekness, the last lord prior. Few persons cared to enter its precincts alone, even by day, and fewer still would dare to enter them by night. My conductors had chosen a very safe place of concealment for whatever crime they had in view. We entered the avenue, or rather what had been one, for all the trees had been cut down long ago, and the cart bumped and joggled along the unkempt road until it came to a stand at the main entrance. My captors pulled me out of the cart, carried me in, and down some steps into a large, vaulted chamber, which, as I saw by the light of a fire of logs blazing on the hearth, showed such signs of occupation as a table, a chair, several stools, a rough couch, pots and pans on a shelf, and other odds and ends. Here they laid me down on the floor and left me. I heard coming and going, slamming of doors, shouts of laughter, and supposed my captors were telling their story to comrades, but I could not think. My head throbbed fearfully, and my limbs were cramped and cut by the ropes with which I was bound. In a while, the driver of the cart came in, attended by the Moor, carrying a lamp, which he placed on the table. The driver knelt down beside me. His fringe of beard had gone, and I knew him. It was Boswell. He took the gag out of my mouth, and said—
"Perhaps I needn't tell you where you are, Mr. Vavasour—on the lowest floor of Melwood Priory. There is only one door by which you could get out, and it is bolted and barred and well guarded. There are six men at my call, everyone well armed. Resistance is hopeless, and can only end in your being baldy mauled. I am going to cut your cords, and I hope for your own sake you won't try to play any pranks."
I made no answer, but he released me, and handed the one chair to me. My limbs were so benumbed that I had something to do to get up and seat myself.
"Now," Boswell said, "hand me that bundle, Musty." The negro produced it from a corner. "I want your clothes, which you must take off, even to your shirt, and put on these. Leave your pockets as they are."
I obeyed, for I saw the odds were too great for me to dispute with the fellow, but contrived to hide and keep my love-token, which I wore round my neck. The clothing given to me in place of my own was clean and decent, but of the commonest homespun.
"Will you give me your word to make no attempt at escape?" asked Boswell. "If so, I will spare you these things"—picking up manacles and fetters from underneath the couch.
"I will give no promise of any kind," I answered.
"As I expected," he rejoined; and proceeded to fasten the bonds on my wrists and ankles.
Both handcuffs and fetters were connected by a short, strong chain. So bound, I was helpless against the weakest man who had the use of his limbs, and Boswell smiled a grim smile as he marked how clumsy I was in moving.
A week of my imprisonment passed without event. Once a day, generally in the early morning, Boswell or the Moor appeared, placing food and water and fuel within my reach. When they had gone, I had the freedom of the corridor and the rooms or cells opening into it, and I shuffled about with a brand from the fire in my hand—the lamp had been carried off—rather despairingly seeking to discover some outlet, or what might be made into one; but there was not even a crack through which daylight might be perceived, and the floor everywhere was of solid stone. The door at the end of the corridor was thick and heavy, and strengthened with iron bands. I beat on it by the hour together, shouting and yelling as loud as I could, on the chance that some one might come within earshot. I searched every nook and corner for a file, or what might serve the purpose of a file, but in vain. I attempted to break my bonds by jerking and straining, but the only result was hurt to myself. When too much spent for such efforts, and weary of prowling and prying, I endeavoured to guess what were the intentions of my gaolers, and what my friends might be doing on my behalf, but got small light or comfort by this means. I thought it likely my father would give little heed to what Luke might say to him; he might even imagine I was hiding somewhere. If my man went to Dick Portington, there might be quest made for me, but it would naturally go after Vliet, and if he stuck to the tale which Boswell had put into his mouth, nothing would ensue of advantage to me. I grew frantic when I pictured to myself Anna's perplexity and distress; but in one short week I sank into a kind of lethargy, which was broken now and then by fits of rage—helpless, foolish rage. Used as I was to freedom, light, air, exercise, good food, the confinement in the dark told on my health and spirits greatly. If my gaoler had not given me fire, I think I should have lost my wits. It was, indeed, a friend to me.
On the eighth day, Boswell paid me a visit in the evening, and brought me much better fare than had been supplied during the week. He was attended by several men, who did not enter my dungeon, but made merry in the chamber adjoining mine. He spread the table with decent viands, and produced a bottle of wine, the black man coming and going all the time on one errand or another, both being weaponed. When supper was laid, Boswell removed my manacles and fetters, and invited me to eat and drink; and I drew up to table, thinking, as I took knife into my hand, now free, that the best use to which I could put it would be to cut the fellow's throat; but, as I should be all the better of meat and wine, I decided to wait until after supper. He smiled, as if he read my thoughts, and called out, "Hal, Pete, Robin, have you your tools handy?" But he did not quite understand my notion, which was that it might be a good thing to make an end of him, whatever might happen to me afterwards. When I had finished my meal, Boswell said—
"I have to make you an offer, which will not be made again, if you refuse it. If you will put yourself into my hands, I will have you conveyed out of this country, and set free with money enough in your purse to equip yourself like a gentleman."
"Is it part of your conditions that I see nobody—speak to nobody—and disappear without the knowledge of my friends?" I asked.
"Assuredly."
"Then I decline your offer."
"Consider well," he replied. "You will disappear, whether you accept or refuse. You have disappeared already. If you agree to my proposal, you will find yourself free, with a well-filled purse. You will be some thousands of miles away from England; but there will be nothing to hinder your return, if you desire to return."
"And what will happen to me if I refuse?"
"You will find yourself far away from home and friends, penniless, helpless, a hopeless slave."
"Why should you be at so much trouble in disposing of me? Why not kill me here?"
"Well inquired," said Boswell. "If my advice had been taken, you would have been buried under these stones."
"I am indebted to you for your kindness," I remarked.
"You may come to think so," answered Boswell. "My patron wants a fuller vengeance than your death would be."
"Vengeance!" I exclaimed.
"He has much to say (in his cups, I grant) of how you stole the affection of a brother, and bred quarrel between him and his father, and alienated friends from him. If the half be true, it is no wonder he should hate you."
I sat speechless with astonishment awhile, for I was too young to know what lies men can tell, deluding even themselves into a sort of belief in their truth.
"What I say," continued Boswell, as if to himself, "is that revenge is costly, and death pays all."
"But, how would my removal to a distant country satisfy Sheffield, if he burns for vengeance?" I asked.
"I did not say that it would. The offer is mine," he answered.
"Oh, you would play false with your patron, pretending you had carried me off to the hopeless slavery of which you speak, but setting me at liberty, when we were far enough away? Is that your scheme? And what do you stand to gain thereby?"
"Your bond for five hundred pounds."
"Which, as you doubtless know, would be worth precisely nothing."
"If I am willing to take the risk, that is my concern. Look you, Mr. Vavasour, I will be open with you. I have no spite against you, nor any great liking for this business, being in it solely for the money to be made by it—and money I must have. If you agree to my terms, Lord Sheffield is rid of you for six or nine months, or, it may be, a year. I keep faith with him so far that he has value for his money. But you return safe and sound, which is value for yours. Nay, hear me out. If you refuse my offer, Frank Vavasour will be dead and buried and mourned awhile by his friends; and even if you should contrive to return to England, nobody—not even your nearest relative—will believe that you are he."
"Bah! Would you persuade me you are Satan himself, to work such wonders? And, if you are, I make no compact with the devil."
I spoke more boldly than my inward feeling warranted, for I began to fear the man. He took no offence, as it seemed, but answered—
"Sleep on it. Night is a good counsellor."
A moment later, he asked if I desired more wine, and took up the bottle.
"You have not emptied this yet, I see."
He placed bottle and cup near me, made fast the door opening on the corridor, and joined his comrades in the next chamber, whom his presence appeared to check, for their talk and laughter became subdued. I drank the remainder of my wine, and began to pace the length of the room, endeavouring to fathom Boswell's designs; but could make nothing of his strange threats, inclining to think his mysterious language was mere gipsy rodomontade. In a short time I grew sleepy—extremely so—and threw myself on the couch, the absence of my bonds enabling me to stretch at my ease, and soon fell asleep.