CHAPTER NINETEEN.
THE BREACH WIDENED--I TURN SPORTSMAN, POACHER, AND DESPERADO--SOMEEXCELLENT NOTIONS PROPOUNDED OF COMMON LAW UPON COMMON RIGHTS--THECOMMON KEEPER UNCOMMONLY SAVAGE--I WARN HIM OFF--HE PROPHESIES THAT WESHALL BOTH COME TO THE GALLOWS--SOME MEN ARE PROPHETS IN THEIR OWNCOUNTRY--THE MAN RIGHT AFTER ALL.
"Hollo! in the lighter there--I say, you _lighter boy_!" were words Iheard, as I was pacing the deck of the vessel in deep cogitation Tom andhis father were both in the cabin; there could be no doubt but that theywere addressed to me. I looked up, and perceived the grinning, stupid,sneering face of the young clerk, Gubbins. "Why don't you answer whenyou're called to, heh?" continued the numbskull. "You're wanted uphere! Come up directly."
"Who wants me?" replied I, reddening with anger.
"What's that to you? Do you mean to obey _my_ order or not?"
"No, I do not," replied I; "I'm not under the orders of such a fool,thank God; and if you come within my reach, I'll try if I can't breakyour head, thick as it is, as well as your master's."
The lout disappeared, and I continued to pace up and down.
As I afterwards discovered, the message was from Mrs Drummond, whorequested to speak to me. Sarah had communicated the real facts of mycase, and Mrs Drummond had been convinced that what I had said wascorrect. She had talked with her husband; she pointed out to him thatmy conduct under Mr Tomkins had been so exemplary that there must havebeen some reason for so sudden a change. Sarah had gone down into thecounting-house, and obtained the invoice which the senior clerk had tornup. The correctness of it established the fact of one part of myassertions, and that nothing but malice could have warranted its havingbeen destroyed. Mr Drummond felt more than he chose to acknowledge; hewas now aware that he had been too precipitate; even my having refusedthe money assumed a different appearance; he _was_ puzzled andmortified. Few people like to acknowledge that they have been in error.Mr Drummond, therefore, left his wife to examine further into thematter, and gave her permission to send for me. The message given, andthe results of it have been stated. The answer returned was that Iwould not come, and that I had threatened to break the clerk's head aswell as that of Mr Drummond; for although the scoundrel knew very wellthat in making use of the word "master," I referred to the senior clerk,he thought it proper to substitute that of Mr Drummond. The effect ofthis reply may easily be imagined. Sarah was astonished, Mrs Drummondshocked, and Mr Drummond was almost pleased to find that he could nothave been in the wrong. Thus was the breach made even wider thanbefore, and all communication broken off. Much depends in this worldupon messages being correctly given.
In half-an-hour we had hauled out of the tier and dropped down to theAmerican schooner, to take out a cargo of flour, which old Tom haddirections to land at the Battersea wharf; so that I was, for the time,removed from the site of my misfortune. I cannot say that I felt happy,but I certainly felt glad that I was away. I was reckless to a degreethat was insupportable. I had a heavy load on my mind which I could notshake off--a prey upon my spirits--a disgust at almost everything. Howwell do I recollect with what different feelings I looked upon the fewbooks which Mr Drummond and the Dominie had given me to amuse myleisure hours. I turned from them with contempt, and thought I wouldnever open them again. I felt as if all ties were now cut off, and thatI was again wedded to the Thames; my ideas, my wishes, extended nofarther, and I surveyed the river and its busy scene as I did before Ihad been taken away from it, as if all my energies, all my prospectswere in future to be bounded by its shores. In the course offour-and-twenty hours a revulsion had taken place, which again put me onthe confines of barbarism.
My bargemates were equally dull as I was; they were too partial to me,and had too much kindness of heart, not to feel my situation, and angerat the injustice with which I had been treated. Employment, however,for a time relieved our melancholy thoughts. Our cargo was on board ofthe lighter, and we were again tiding it through the bridges.
We dropped our anchor above Putney Bridge a little after twelve o'clock,and young Tom, with the wish of amusing me, proposed that we should goon shore and walk. "Ah! do my lads, do--it will do you good, Jacob; nouse moping here a whole tide. I'll take care of the 'barkey. Mind youmake the boat well fast, and take the sculls into the public-housethere. I'll have the supper under weigh when you come back, and thenwe'll have a night on't. It's a poor heart that never rejoices; and,Tom, take a bottle on shore, get it filled, and bring it off with you.Here's the money. But I say, Tom, honour bright."
"Honour bright, father;" and to do Tom justice, he always kept hispromise, especially after the word had passed of "honour bright." Hadthere been gallons of spirits under his charge he would not have tasteda drop after that pledge.
"Haul up the boat, Jacob, quick," said Tom, as his father went into thecabin to fetch an empty bottle. Tom hastened down below forward andbrought up an old gun, which he put under the stern sheets before hisfather came out on the deck. We then received the bottle from him, andTom called out for the dog Tommy.
"Why, you're not going to take the dog. What's the use of that? I wanthim here to keep watch with me," said old Tom.
"Pooh! father; why can't you let the poor devil have a run on shore? Hewants to eat grass, I am sure, for I watched him this day or two. Weshall be back before dark."
"Well, well, just as you please, Tom." Tommy jumped into the boat, andaway we went.
"And now, Tom, what are you after?" said I, as soon as we were ten yardsfrom the lighter.
"A'ter, Jacob, going to have a little shooting on Wimbledon Common; butfather can't bear to see a gun in my hand, because I once shot my oldmother. I did pepper her, sure enough; her old flannel petticoat wasfull of shot, but it was so thick that it saved her. Are you anythingof a shot?"
"Never fired a gun in my life."
"Well, then, we'll fire in turns, and toss up, if you like, for firstshot."
We landed, carried the sculls up to the public-house, and left thebottle to be filled, and then, with Tommy bounding before us, andthrowing about his bushy tail with delight, ascended Putney Hill, andarrived at the Green Man public-house, at the corner of WimbledonCommon. "I wonder where green men are to be found?" observed Tom,laughing; "I suppose they live in the same country with the _blue_ dogsmy father speaks about sometimes. Now, then, its time to load."
The bowl of a tobacco pipe, full of powder, was then inserted, with anequal dose of shot, and all being ready we were soon among the furze. Ahalf penny decided it was my first shot, and fate further decided that awater-wagtail should be the mark. I took good aim, as I thought, atleast I took sufficient time, for I followed him with the muzzle of thegun for three or four minutes at least, as he ran to and fro; at last Ifired. Tommy barked with delight, and the bird flew away. "I think Imust have hit it," said I; "I saw it wag its tail."
"More proof of a miss than a hit," replied Tom. "Had you hit it he'dnever have wagged his tail again."
"Never mind," said I, "better luck next time."
Tom then knocked a blackbird off a furze bush, and loading the gun,handed it to me. I was more successful than before; a cock sparrow,three yards distant, yielded to the prowess of my arm, and I never feltmore happy in my life than in this first successful attempt at murder.
Gaily did we trudge over the common, sometimes falling in withgravel-pits half full of water, at others bogs and swampy plains, whichobliged us to make a circuit. The gun was fired again and again; butour game-bag did not fill very fast. However, if we were not quite sowell pleased when we missed as when we hit, Tommy was, every shot beingfollowed up with a dozen bounds, and half a minute's barking. At lastwe began to feel tired, and agreed to repose a while in a cluster offurze bushes. We sat down, pulled out our game, and spread it in a rowbefore us. It consisted of two sparrows, one greenfinch, one blackbird,and three tomtits. All of a sudden we heard a rustling in the furze,and then a loud squeal. It was the dog, who, scenting somethin
g, hadforced its way into the bush, and had caught a hare, which having beenwounded in the loins by some other sportsman, had dragged itself thereto die. In a minute we had taken possession of it, much to theannoyance of Tommy, who seemed to consider that there was noco-partnership in the concern, and would not surrender his prize untilafter sundry admonitory kicks. When we had fairly beaten him off wewere in an ecstasy of delight. We laid the animal out between us, andwere admiring it from the ear to the tip of his tail, when we weresuddenly saluted with a voice close to us. "Oh, you blam'd youngpoachers, so I've caught you, have I?" We looked up, and beheld thecommon-keeper. "Come--come along with me; we've a nice clink atWandsworth to lock you up in. I've been looking a'rter you some time.Hand your gun here."
"I should rather think not," replied I. "The gun belongs to us, and notto you;" and I caught up the gun, and presented the muzzle at him.
"What! do you mean to commit murder? Why, you young villains!"
"Do you want to commit a robbery?" retorted I, fiercely; "because if youdo, I mean to commit murder. Then I shoot him. Tom."
"No, Jacob, no; you mustn't shoot men," replied Tom, who perceived thatI was in a humour to keep my word with the common-keeper. "Indeed, youcan't," continued he, whispering to me; "the gun's not loaded."
"Do you mean to refuse to give me up your gun?" repeated the man.
"Yes I do," replied I, cocking the lock; "so keep off."
"Oh! you young reprobates--you'll come to the gallows before long,that's certain. Do you refuse to come with me?"
"I should rather think we do," replied I.
"You refuse, do you? Recollect I've caught you in the fact, poaching,with a dead hare in your possession."
"Well, it's no use crying about it. What's done can't be helped,"replied I.
"Don't you know that all the game, and all the turf, and all the bog,and all the gravel, and all the furze on this common belong to the RightHonourable Earl Spencer?"
"And all the blackbirds, and all the greenfinches, and all the sparrows,and all the tomtits too, I suppose?" replied I.
"To be sure they do--and I'm common-keeper. Now you'll give me up thathare immediately."
"Look you," replied Tom, "we didn't kill that hare, the dog caught it,and it is his property. We sha'n't interfere in the matter. If Tommychooses to let you have it, well and good. Here, Tommy, this heregentleman says," (and Tom pointed to the keeper) "that this hare," (andTom pointed to the hare) "is not yours; now will you `watch it,' or lethim have it?"
At the word `watch it,' Tommy laid down with his fore-paws over thehare, and showing a formidable set of ivories, looked fiercely at theman, and growled.
"You see what he says; now you may do as you please," continued Tom,addressing the man.
"Yes--very well--you'll come to the gallows, I see that; but I'll justgo and fetch half-a-dozen men to help me, and then we'll have you bothin gaol."
"Then, be smart," replied I, jumping up and levelling the gun. Tommyjumped up also to fly at the man, but Tom caught him by the neck andrestrained him. The common-keeper took to his heels, and as soon as hewas out of gun-shot, turned round, shook his fist, and then hastenedaway to obtain the reinforcement he desired.
"I wish the gun had been loaded," said I.
"Why, Jacob, what's come over you? Would you have fired at him? Theman is only doing his duty--we have no business here."
"I think otherwise," replied I. "A hare on a common is as much mine asLord Spencer's. A common belongs to everybody."
"That's my opinion, too; but, nevertheless, if he gets hold of us, he'llhave us in gaol; and therefore I propose we make off as fast as we canin the opposite way to which he is gone."
We started accordingly, and as the keeper proceeded in the direction ofWandsworth, we took the other direction; but it so happened that onturning round, after a quarter of an hour's walk, we perceived the mancoming back with three or four others. "We must run for it," cried Tom,"and then hide ourselves." After ten minutes' hard run we descendedinto a hollow and swampy place, looking round to see if they couldperceive us, and finding that they were not in sight, we plunged into athick cluster of furze bushes, which completely concealed us. Tommyfollowed us, and there we lay. "Now they never will find us," said Tom,"if I can only keep the dog quiet. Lie down, Tommy. Watch, and liedown." The dog appeared to understand what was required; he lay betweenus perfectly still.
We had remained there about half-an-hour when we heard voices. Imotioned to Tom to give me the powder to load the gun, but he refused.The voices came nearer; Tommy gave a low growl. Tom held his mouth withhis hands. At last they were close to the bushes, and we heard thecommon-keeper say, "They never went over the hill, that's for certain,the little wagrants; they can't be far off--they must be down in thehollow. Come along."
"But I'm blessed if I'm not up to my knees in the bog," cried one of themen; "I'll go no further down, dang me!"
"Well, then let's try the side of the bog," replied the keeper, "I'llshow you the way." And the voices retreated, fortunately for us, forthere had been a continual struggle between us and the dog for the lastminute, I holding his forepaws, and Tom jamming up his mouth. We werenow all quiet again, but dare not leave our hiding-place.
We remained there for half-an-hour, when it became nearly dark, and thesky, which had been quite clear when we set out, clouded over. Tom putup his head, looked all round, and perceiving nobody, proposed that weshould return as fast as we could; to which I agreed. But we werescarcely clear of the furze in which we had been concealed when a heavyfall of snow commenced, which, with the darkness, prevented us fromdistinguishing our way. Every minute the snow-storm increased, the windrose, and hurled the flakes into our faces until we were blinded. Stillwe made good way against it, and expected every minute to be on theroad, after which our task would be easy. On we walked in silence, Icarrying the gun, Tom with the hare over his shoulder, and Tommy at ourheels. For upwards of an hour did we tread our way through the furze,but could find no road. Above us all was dark as pitch; the windhowled; our clothes were loaded with snow; and we began to feel noinconsiderable degree of fatigue.
At last, quite tired out, we stopped. "Tom," said I, "I'm sure we'venot kept a straight course. The wind was on our starboard side, and ourclothes were flaked with snow on that side, and now you see we've got itin our quarter. What the devil shall we do?"
"We must go on till we fall in with something, at all events," repliedTom.
"And I expect that will be a gravel-pit," replied I; "but never mind,`better luck next time.' I only wish I had that rascal of acommon-keeper here. Suppose we turn back again, and keep the wind onthe starboard side of us as before; we must pitch upon something atlast."
We did so, but our difficulties increased every moment; we floundered inthe bogs, we tumbled over the stumps of the cut furze, and had I notcaught bold of Tom as he was sliding down he would have been at thebottom of a gravel-pit. This obliged us to alter our course, and weproceeded for a quarter of an hour, in another direction, until, wornout with cold and fatigue, we began to despair.
"This will never do, Tom," said I, as the wind rose and roared withdouble fury. "I think we had better get into the furze, and wait tillthe storm is over."
Tom's teeth chattered with the cold; but before he could reply, theychattered with fear. We heard a loud scream _overhead_. "What wasthat?" cried he. I confess that I was as much alarmed as Tom. Thescream was repeated, and it had an unearthly sound. It was no humanvoice--it was between a scream and a creak. Again it was repeated, andcarried along with the gale. I mustered up courage sufficient to lookup to where the sound proceeded from; but the darkness was so intense,and the snow blinded me so completely, that I could see nothing. Againand again did the dreadful sound ring in our ears, and we remained fixedand motionless with horror; even the dog crouched at our feet trembling.We spoke not a word--neither of us moved; the gun had fallen from myhand; the hare lay at Tom's fe
et; we held each other's hand in silence,and there we remained for more than a quarter of an hour, every momentmore and more sinking under the effects of cold, fatigue, and horror.Fortunately for us the storm, in which had it continued much longer weshould, in all probability, have perished, was by that time over; thesnow ceased to fall; the clouds were rolled away to leeward; and a clearsky, bespangled with a thousand twinkling lights, roused us from ourstate of bodily and mental suffering. The first object which caught myeye was a post within two yards of us. I looked at it, followed it upwith my eyes, and, to my horror, beheld a body suspended and swinging inchains over our heads.
As soon as I recovered from the shock which the first view occasioned, Ipointed it out to Tom, who had not yet moved. He looked up, startedback, and fell over the dog--jumped up again, and burst out into as louda laugh as his frozen jaws would permit. "It's old Jerry Abershaw,"said he, "I know him well, and now I know where we are." This was thecase; Abershaw had, about three years before, been hung in chains onWimbledon Common; and the unearthly sound we had heard was the creakingof the rusty iron as the body was swung to-and-fro by the gale. "All'sright, Jacob," said Tom, looking up at the brilliant sky, and thentaking up the hare, "we'll be on the road in five minutes." Ishouldered the gun, and off we set. "By the Lord, that rascallycommon-keeper was right," continued Tom, as we renewed our steps; "heprophesied we should come to the gallows before long, and so we have.Well, this has been a pretty turn out. Father will be in a preciousstew."
"Better luck next time, Tom," replied I; "it's all owing to thatturf-and-bog rascal. I wish we had him here."
"Why, what would you do with him?"
"Take down old Abershaw, and hang him up in his place, as sure as myname's Jacob."