CHAPTER XXI.
BLACKMARSH.
A long way back among the Blackdown Hills, and in nobody knows whatparish, the land breaks off into a barren stretch, uncouth, dark, anddesolate. Being neither hill nor valley, slope nor plain, morass norwoodland, it has no lesson for the wanderer, except that the sooner hegets out of it the better. For there is nothing to gratify him if he bean artist, nothing to interest him if his tastes are antiquarian,nothing to arouse his ardour, even though he were that happy and mostardent creature, a naturalist free from rheumatism. And as for anyhonest fellow mainly concerned with bread and butter, his head will atonce go round with fear and with looking over his shoulders. For it is alonesome and gruesome place, where the weather makes no difference;where Nature has not put her hand, on this part or on that, to leave amark or show a preference, but slurred the whole with one black frownof desolate monotony.
That being so, the few and simple dwellers on the moorland around, or inthe lowland homesteads, might well be trusted to keep their distancefrom this dreary solitude. There were tales enough of hapless travellerslast seen going in this direction, and never in any other; as well as ofspectral forms, low groans, and nightly processions through the air.
Not more than a hundred years ago, there had been a wicked baronet,profane, rapacious, arrogant, blackhearted, foul, and impious. A blessedcurate prayed him not to hunt on Holy Friday. He gave the blessed curatetaste of whip-thong from his saddle; then blew seven blasts of his horn,to proclaim that he would hunt seven days in every week, put spurs tohis black horse, and away. The fox, disturbed on Holy Friday, made forthis "Forbidden land;" which no fox had ever done before. For his lifehe plunged into it, feeling for the moment that nothing could be worsethan to be torn in pieces. The hounds stopped, as if they were turned tostone in the fury of their onslaught. The huntsman had been left farbehind, having wife and family. But the wicked baronet cracked his whip,blew three blasts on his horn, leaned forward on his horse and gave himthe rowel. The hounds in a frenzy threw up their sterns, and all plungedheadlong into it. And ever since that, they may be seen (an hour aftersun-down, on every Sunday of the season, and any Holy Friday) in fullcry scouring through the air, with the wicked baronet after them,lashing his black horse, and blowing his horn, but with no fox in frontto excuse them.
These facts have made the Forbidden land, or the Blackmarsh, as somecall it, even less desirable than its own complexion shows it. And it isso far from Perlycross, that any man on foot is tired by the time hegets there, and feels that he has travelled far enough, and in commonsense must go home again.
But there was one Perlycrucian now--by domicile, not nativity--oftireless feet, and reckless spirit, too young for family ties, and tooimpetuous for legends. By this time he was admitted to the freedom ofevery hedge and ditch in the parish, because he was too quick to becaught, and too young to be prosecuted. "Horatio Peckover" was his name,by usage cut short into "Hopper"; a lad in advance of his period, andthe precursor of all "paper-chases."
Like many of those who are great in this line, he was not equally strongin the sedentary uses of that article. Mr. Penniloe found him so farbehind, when pen and ink had to be dealt with, that he put him under thefine Roman hand of Sergeant Jakes, the schoolmaster. Jakes was not toorichly endowed by a grateful country, for years of heroism; neither washis stipend very gorgeous, for swinging cane in lieu of gun. Sixpence anhour was his figure, for pen-drill of private pupils, and he gladlyadded Hopper to the meagre awkward-squad.
Soon an alliance of the closest kind was formed; the veteran taking warminterest in the spirited sallies of youth, and the youth with eagerthirst imbibing the fine old Peninsular vintage of the brightest ruby,poured forth in the radiance of a yellow tallow candle. For the longschool-room was cleared at night of coats, and hats, and green-baizebags, cracked slates, bead-slides, and spelling-books, and all the otheraccoutrements, and even toys of the youthful Muse; and at seven o'clockHoratio stepped across the road from the rectory, sat down at themaster's high black desk, and shouldered arms for the copy-drill. TheSergeant was famed for his flourishes, chiefly of his own invention, andhad promised to impart that higher finish, when the fancy capitals weremastered.
"What a whack of time it does take, Sergeant!" cried Hopper, as hedipped his pen, one Friday night. "Not half so bad as Latin though, andthere is something to look at afterwards. Capitals almost captured now.Ah, you have taken the capitals of many a country, Sergeant. Halloa!'Xerxes was conqueror at Marathon,' to-night! Sergeant, are you quitesure of that? I thought it was another fellow, with a longername--Milly, Tilly, something."
"No, Master Hopper; if it had been, we must have passed him long ago,among the big M's."
"To be sure. What a muff I was, not to think of that! I beg yourpardon, Sergeant. There's scarcely anything you don't know."
"I had that on the highest authority--right elbow more in to your side,sir, if you please--that Xerxes copy was always set by commandingofficer at Turry Vardoes--could not tell what to do with the men atnight--so many ordered to play at nine-pins, and so many told off tolearn roundhand. If it had not been for that, sir, I should never havebeen equal to my present situation."
"Then it must have been Xerxes, Sergeant. And after all, how can itmatter, when it happened so long ago? A blot again? D--n it."
"Master Hopper, I am very sorry, but it is my duty to reprimand you, forthe use of profane language. Never permitted, sir, in school-hours.Would you do it, before Mr. Penniloe?"
"I should rather hope not. Wouldn't old Pen stare? And then he'd be downupon me, like the very--capital D. Sergeant, pray excuse me; I onlythought of him, without any name. I suppose we may call him 'Old Nick'though, without having to go to him, for doing it. I never could seewhat the difference was. But, my eye, Sergeant, I expected to see theold chap yesterday, cloven hoof, tail, eyes of fire, and everything!"
"What do you mean, sir? Where was he? Not in Perlycross, I hope."Sergeant Jakes glanced down the long dark room, and then at the pegswhere his French sword was hanging.
"No, not here. He daren't come so near the church. But in the placewhere he lives all day, according to the best authorities. You haveheard of Blackmarsh, haven't you? No marsh at all--that's the joke ofit--but the queerest place I ever saw in all my life. Criky jimminy, butit is a rum un!"
"You don't mean to say you were there, sir!" The Sergeant took his handfrom Hopper's shoulder, and went round to see whether he was joking.
"To be sure I was, as large as life, and twice as natural! Had aholiday, as you know, and got leave off from dinner. Mother Muggridgegave me grub enough to go to Halifax. I had been meaning to go thereever so long, because everybody seems to funk it so. Why there'snothing there to be afraid of: though it makes you look about a bit. Andyou aren't sorry to come out of it."
"Did you tell Mr. Penniloe, you had been there, Master Hopper?"
"Sergeant, do you see any green in my eye?" Horatio dropped his pen, andenlarged the aperture of one eye, in a style very fashionable just then,but never very elegant.
"No sir, I can't answer fairly that I do. And I don't believe there everwas much, even when you was a babby."
"Mum's the word, you see then--even to old Muggridge, or she might befool enough to let out. But I say, Sergeant, I've got a little job foryou to do. Easy enough. I know you won't refuse me."
"No sir, that I won't. Anything whatever that lays in my power, MasterHopper."
"Well, it's only this--just to come with me to-morrow--half-holiday, youknow, and I can get off, plum-duffs--always plum-duffs on a Saturday,and you should just see Pike pitching into them--and we'll give theafternoon to it, and examine Blackmarsh pretty thoroughly."
"Blackmarsh, Master Hopper! The Forbidden land--where Sir Robert uponhis black horse, and forty hounds in full cry before him, may be seenand heard, sweeping through the air, like fiends!"
"Oh, that's all my eye, and Betty Martin! Nobody believes that, I shouldhope. Why Sergeant, a man who knows
all about Xerxes, and has taken halfthe capitals in Europe--oh, I say, Sergeant, come, you are not afraidnow, and a fellow of sixteen, like me, to go there all by myself, andstop--well, nearly half-an-hour!"
"Afraid! Not I. No certainly not, after mountains, and forests, andcaverns, and deserts. But the distance, Master Hopper, for a man of myage, and troubled with rheumatism in the knee-joint."
"Oh, that's all right! I have planned out all that. Of course I don'texpect you to go ten miles an hour. But Baker Channing's light cartgoes, every other Saturday, to Crooked-post quarry, at the further endof Hagdon, to fetch back furze enough to keep his oven going, from astack he bought there last summer. To-morrow is his day; and you haveno school, you know, after half-past ten or eleven. You ride with oldTucker to the Crooked-post, and come back with him, when he is loadedup. It shan't cost you a farthing. I have got a shilling left, and heshall have it. It is only two miles, or so, from Crooked-post to thisend of Blackmarsh; and there you will find me waiting. Come, you can'tget out of that."
"But what do you want me there for, sir? Of course, I'd go anywhere youwould venture, if I could see any good in it."
"Sergeant, I'll tell you what. You thought a great deal of Sir ThomasWaldron, didn't you?"
"More than of any man that ever lived, or ever will see the light ofthis wicked world."
"And you didn't like what was done to him, did you?"
"Master Hopper, I tell you what. I'd give ten years off my poor life, ifI could find out who did it."
"Then I fancy I have found out something about it. Not much, mind; butstill something, and may come to more if we follow it up. And if youcome to-morrow, I'll show you what it is. You know that my eyes arepretty sharp, and that I wasn't born yesterday. You know who it was thatfound 'Little Billy.' And you know who wants to get Fox out of thisscrape, because he is a Somerset man, and all that, and doesn't deservethis trouble. And still more, because----"
"Well, Master Hopper, still more, because of what?"
"I don't mind telling you something, Sergeant--you have seen a lot ofthe world, you know. Because Jemmy Fox has got a deuced pretty sister."
"Oh come, Master Hopper, at your time of life! And not even got into theflourishes!"
"It doesn't matter, Jakes. I may seem rather young to people who don'tunderstand the question. But that is my own business, I should hope.Well, I shall look out for you to-morrow. Two o'clock at the latest."
"But why shouldn't we tell Dr. Fox himself, and get him to come with us?That seems the simplest thing."
"No. There are very good reasons against that. I have found this out;and I mean to stick to it. No one would have dreamed of it, except forme. And I won't have it spoiled, by every nincompoop poking his noseinto it. Only if we find anything more, and you agree with me about it,we will tell old Pen, and go by his opinion."
"Very well, sir. It all belongs to you; as it did to me, when I wasfirst after Soult's arrival to discover the advance of the Frenchoutposts. You shall have the credit, though I didn't. Anything more,sir? The candle is almost out."
"Sergeant, no more. Unless you could manage--I mean, unless you shouldthink it wise to bring your fine old sword with you. You say there is nosuch piece of steel----"
"Master Hopper, there is no such piece, unless it was Lord Wellington's.They say he had one that he could lean on--not a dress-sword, notflummery, but a real workman--and although he was never a heavy man, astone and a half less than I was then, it would make any figure of themultiplication-table that he chose to call for, under him. But I mustn'tcarry arms in these days, Master Hopper. I shall bring a bit of Spanishoak, and trust in the Lord."
On the following day, the sun was shining pretty well for thedecrepitude of the year. There had been no frost to speak of, since thatfirst sharp touch about three weeks back. The air was mild, and awesterly breeze played with the half ripe pods of gorse, and the brownwelting of the heather. Hopper had brought a long wand of withy, fromthe bank of the last brook he had leaped, and he peeled it with hispocket-knife, and sat (which he seldom did when he could help it) on atuft of rush, waiting for the Sergeant. He stretched his long wiry legs,and counted the brass buttons on his yellow leathern gaiters, which camenearly to his fork, and were made fast by narrow straps to hisbrace-buttons.
This young man--as he delighted to be called--had not many grievances,because he ran them off so fast; but the two he chiefly dwelt upon, inhis few still moments, were the insufficiency of cash and calf. For theformer he was chiefly indebted to himself, having never cultivatedpowers of retention; for the deficiency of calves, however, nature wasto blame, although she might plead not unfairly that they were allowedno time to grow. He regarded them now with unmerited contempt, andslapped them in some indignation, with the supple willow wand. It mightwell be confessed that they were not very large, as is often the casewith long-distance runners; but for all that they were as hard as nails,and endowed with knobs of muscle, tough and tense as coiled mainspring.In fact there was not a bit of flabby stuff about him; and his highclear colour, bright eyes, and ready aspect made him very pleasant tobehold, though his nose was rather snubby, and his cheekbones high, andhis mouth of too liberal aperture.
"Come along, Sergeant, what a precious time you have taken!" Hoppershouted, as the angular outline of the veteran appeared at last in a gapbetween two ridges. "Why, we shall scarcely have two hours of gooddaylight left. And how do you know that Tucker won't go home withoutyou?"
"He knows a bit better than that," replied Jakes, smiling with darksignificance. "Master Hopper, I've got three of Tucker's boys inHorseshoe. Tucker is bound to be uncommon civil."
Now the "Horseshoe" was a form in the school at Perlycross especiallyadapted for corporal applications, snug as a cockpit, and affording nopossibility of escape. And what was still better, the boys of that classwere in the very prime of age for attracting, as well as appreciating,healthy and vigorous chastisement; all of them big enough to stand it,none of them big enough to kick, and for the most part newly trouser'dinto tempting chubbiness. Truly it might be said, that the parents ofplayful boys in the "Horseshoe" had given hostages to education.
"But bless my heart--what--what?" continued the ancient soldier, as hefollowed the rapid steps of Hopper, "why, I don't like the look of thisplace at all. It looks so weist--as we say about here, so unwholesome,and strange, and ungodly, and--and so timoursome."
"It is ever so much worse further on; and you can't tell where you areat all. But to make sure of our coming back, if--if there should benothing to prevent us, I have got this white stick ready, and I am goingto fix it on the top of that clump. There now, we shall be able to seethat for miles."
"But we are not going miles I hope, Master Hopper. I'm a little toostiff for such a walk as that. You don't know what it is to have a painin your knee."
"Oh don't I? I come down on it often enough. But I don't know exactlyhow far we are going. There is nothing to measure distance by. Comealong, Sergeant! We'll be just like two flies going into one of your bigink-pots."
"Don't let me lose sight of you, Master Hopper. I mean, don't you losesight of me. You might want somebody to stand by you. It is the darkestbit of God's earth I ever did see. And yet nothing overhead to darkenit. Seems almost to make its own shadow. Good Lord! what was that cameby me?"
"Oh, a bat, or an owl, or a big dor-beetle; or it might be athunder-bolt--just the sort of place for them. But--what a bad place itis for finding things!"
There could scarcely have been a worse one, at least upon dry andunforested land. There was no marsh whatever, so far as they had come,but a dry uneven shingly surface, black as if fire had passed over it.There was no trace however of fire, neither any substance sufficient tohold it, beyond the mere passage of a shallow flame. The blackness thatcovered the face of the earth, and seemed to stain the air itself, andheavily dim the daylight, was of something unknown upon the breezyhills, or in the clear draught of a valley. It reflected no light, andreceived no shadow, but lay
like the strewing of some approach toquarters undesirable. Probably from this (while unexamined by such menas we have now), the evil repute of the place had arisen, going downgenerations of mankind, while the stuff at the bottom renewed itself.
This stuff appeared to be the growth of some lanky trailing weed,perhaps some kind of _Persicaria_, but unusually dense and formless,resembling what may be seen sometimes, at the bottom of a darkwatercourse, where the river slides without a wrinkle, and trees ofthick foliage overhang it. And the same spread of life, that is morelike death, may be seen where leagues of laver strew the foreshore of anAtlantic coast, when the spring-tides are out, and the winds gone low.
"By George, here we are at last. Thought I should never have made itout, in the thick of this blessed cobobbery," shouted Hopper, stoppingshort and beckoning; "now, Sergeant, what do you say to that? Queerthing, just here, isn't it?"
The veteran's eyes, confused and weary with the long monotony, weredazzled by sudden contrast. Hitherto the dreary surface, uniform andtrackless, had offered only heavy plodding, jarred by the jerk of ahidden stone sometimes, but never elastic. All the boundary-beaters ofthe parish, or even a regiment of cavalry, might have passed throughout,and left no trace upon the padded cumber. But here a glaring stripe ofsilver sand broke through the blackness, intensely white by contrast,though not to be seen a few yards off, because sunk below the level.Like a crack of the ground from earthquake, it ran across from right toleft, and beyond it all was black again.
The ancient soldier glanced around, to be sure that no surprise wasmeant; and then with his big stick tried the substance of the whitematerial. With one long stride he could have reached the other side, butthe caution of perilous days awoke.
"Oh there's nothing in that, and it is firm enough. But look here;" saidhis young companion, "this is what floors me altogether."
He pointed to a place where two deep tracks, as of narrow wheels,crossed the white opening; and between them were three little pits aboutthe size and depth of a gallon saucepan. The wheel-tracks swerved to theleft, as if with a jerk to get out of the sandy hollow, and one of thethree footprints was deeper and larger than the other two.
"Truly this is the doing of the arch-enemy of mankind himself." SergeantJakes spoke solemnly, and yet not very slowly; for he longed to make offwith promptitude.
"The doing, more likely, of those big thieves who couldn't let yourColonel rest in his grave. Do you mean to turn tail upon them, SergeantJakes?"
"May the Lord turn His back upon me, if I do!" The veteran's colourreturned to his face, and all thoughts of flight departed. "I would goto the ends of the world, Master Hopper, after any living man; but notafter Satan."
"The Devil was in them. No doubt about that. But he made them do it forHim. Does Old Nick carry whipcord? You see how that was, don't you?"
The youth leaped across, and brought back the lash of a whip which hehad concealed there. "Plain as a pikestaff, Sergeant. When the wheelsplunged into this soft stuff, the driver must have lashed like fury, tomake him spring the cart out again. Off came the old lash, and here itis. But wait a minute. I've got something more to show you, that spotsthe villains pretty plain."
"Well, sir," said Jakes, regarding Hopper with no small admiration, "youdeserve your stripes for this. Such a bright young gent shouldn't bethrown away in the Church. I was just going to say--'how can we tellthey did it?' Though none but thundering rogues would come here. Nothingcan be clearer than that, I take it."
"Then you, and I, are thundering rogues. Got you there, Sergeant; bygum, I did! Now come on a few steps further."
They stepped out boldly, having far less fear of human than ofsuperhuman agency; though better had they met Apollyon perhaps, than thewild men they were tracing. Within less than a furlong, they reached anopening where the smother of the black weeds fell away, and an opentrack was left once more. Here the cart-wheels could be traceddistinctly, and at one spot something far more convincing. In the middleof the track a patch of firm blue clay arose above the surface, for adistance of perhaps some fifty yards; and on it were frequentimpressions of the hoofs of a large horse, moving slowly. And of theseimpressions one (repeated four or five times, very clearly) was that ofthe near fore-foot, distinctly showing a broken shoe, and the very slopeand jag of the fracture.
"What do you think of that now, Sergeant?" asked Hopper, as he danced intriumph, but took good care not to dance upon the clay. "They call me ahedger and ditcher, don't they? Well, I think I am a tracker too."
"Master Hopper, to my mind, you are an uncommonly remarkable young gent.The multiplication-table may not be strongly in your line, sir. But youcan put two and two together, and no fear to jump on top of them."
"Oh, but the bad luck of it, Sergeant! The good luck for them, and theshocking luck for me. I never came to old Pen's shop, you see, till aday or two after that wicked job was over. And then it took me afortnight, or more, to get up the lay of the country, and all that. AndI was out of condition for three days, with a blessed example in theEton Grammar. _Percontatorem fugito_, that frightened me no end, andthrew me off the hooks. But I fancy, I am on the right hook now."
"That you are, sir, and no mistake. And a braver young man never cameinto a regiment, even in Sir Arthur's time. Sir, you must pitch awaycopy-books. Education is all very fine for those who can't do no better.But it spoils a young man, with higher gifts."
"Don't say a good word of me, till you know all," replied the candidHopper. "I thought that I was a pretty plucky fellow, because I was allby myself, you understand, and I knew that no fellow could catch me, ina run across the open. But I'll show you where I was stodged off; and ithas been on my conscience ever since. Just come to that place, where theground breaks off."
He led the way along a gentle slope, while the light began to failbehind them, until they stood upon the brink of a steep descent, with asharp rise upon the other side. It was like the back-way to the bottomof a lime-kiln, but there was no lime for many leagues around. The trackof cart-wheels was very manifest, and the bottom was dark with theapproach of night.
"My turn, Master Hopper, to go first now. No wife, or family, and noughtto leave behind." With these words spoken in a whisper, the Sergeant(who had felt much self-reproach, at the superior courage of a peacefulgeneration) began to go stiffly down the dark incline, waving his handfor the other to wait there.
"In for a penny, in for a pound. I can kick like winkin', though I can'tfight much." With these words, the gallant Hopper followed, slowing hisquick steps to the heavier march in front.
When they came to the bottom, they found a level space, with room enoughto turn a horse and cart. It was getting very dusky where they stood,with the grim sides gathering round them, and not a tree or bush togive any sign of life, but the fringe of the dominant black weed, likeheavy brows, shagging the outlook. But on the left hand, where the steepfell back, was the mouth as of a cave scooped roughly. Within it, allwas black with gloom, and the low narrow entrance showed littlehospitality.
"I don't care a d--n," said Sergeant Jakes, forgetful of schooldiscipline; "if there's any scoundrel there, I'll drag him out. If it'sold Colonel's bones--well I'm not afraid of them." There remained justlight enough to show that the cart had been backed up to the entrance.
"Where you go, I go;" replied the dauntless Hopper; and into it theyplunged, with their hearts beating high, but their spirit on fire foranything.
The sound of their steps, as they passed into the darkness, echoed theemptiness of the place. There was nothing to be felt, except ruggedflinty sides, and the damp chill which gathered in their hair; and inthe middle, a slab of broken stone, over which they stumbled into oneanother's arms. They had no means of striking a light; but as their eyesgrew accustomed to the gloom, they assured themselves that there wasnothing more to learn, unless it might be from some small object on thefloor. There seemed to be no shelves, no sort of fixture, no recesses;only the bare and unoccupied cave.
"I tell you wha
t," said Sergeant Jakes, as they stood in the open airagain; "this has been a smuggler's store in the war-time; a naturalcave, improved no doubt. What we thought to find is gone further on, Ifear. Too late, Master Hopper, to do any more to-day, and perhaps toolate to do any more at all. But we must come again with a light, ifpossible on Monday."
"Well, one thing we have proved--that the villains, whoever they were,must have come from up the country; perhaps as far off as the MendipHills. But keep it to yourself, till we have settled what to do. Not aword to Tucker, or the news will be all over Perlycross to-night. Comeback to the hoof-marks, and I'll take a copy. If we could only find theimpressions of the men's feet too! You see after all, that Joe Crangspoke the truth. And it was the discovery of his 'Little Billy' that ledme on in this direction."
There was light enough still, when they came back to the clay-patch, tomake a rough tracing of the broken shoe, on the paper in which the youthhad brought his bread and bacon; and even that great steeple-chaser wasglad to go home in company, and upon a truss of furze, with a flour-sackto shield him from the stubs and prickles.