CHAPTER VIII.
THE POTATO-FIELD.
Live who may, and die who must, the work of the world shall be carriedon. Of all these works, the one that can never be long in arrears iseating; and of all British victuals, next to bread, the potato claimsperhaps the foremost place. Where the soil is light towards Hagdon Hill,on the property of the Dean and Chapter, potatoes, meet for anydignitary of the Church, could be dug by the ton, in those days. Inthese democratic and epidemic times, it is hard to find a good potato;and the reason is too near to seek. The finer the quality of fruit orroot, the fiercer are they that fall on it; and the nemesis ofexcellence already was impending. But the fatal blow had not fallen yet;the ripe leaves strewed the earth with vivid gold, instead of reekingweltering smut; and the berries were sound, for boys and girls to peltone another across the field; while at the lift of the glistening forkacross the crumbling ridges, up sprang a cluster of rosy globes, cleanas a codlin, and chubby as a cherub.
Farmer John Horner, the senior Churchwarden, and the largest ratepayeron the south side of the Perle, would never have got on as he did,without some knowledge of the weather. The bitter east wind of theprevious night, and the keen frost of the morning, had made up his mindthat it was high time to lift his best field of potatoes. He had twolarge butts to receive the filled sacks--assorted into ware andchats--and every working man on the farm, as well as his wife andchildren, had been ordered to stick at this job, and clear thisfour-acre field before nightfall. The field was a good step from thevillage, as well as from Farmer Horner's house; and the lower end (wherethe gate was) abutted on the Susscot lane, leading from the ford toPerlycross.
It was now All-Hallows day, accounted generally the farewell of autumn,and arrival of the winter. Birds, and beasts, that know their timewithout recourse to calendar, had made the best use of that knowledge,and followed suit of wisdom. Some from the hills were seekingdownwards, not to abide in earnest yet, but to see for themselves whatmen had done for their comfort when the pinch should come; some of moretender kind were gone with a whistle at the storms they left behind; andothers had taken their winter apparel, and meant to hold fast to thehomes they understood.
Farmer John, who was getting rather short of breath from the fatness ofhis bacon, stirred about steadfastly among the rows, exhorting,ordering, now and then upbraiding, when a digger stuck his fork into thefinest of the clump. He had put his hunting gaiters on, because theground would clog as soon as the rime began to melt; and the fog, whichstill lingered in the hollows of the slopes, made him pull his triplechin out of his comforter to cough, as often as he opened his big mouthto scold. For he was not (like farmers of the present day) too thankfulfor anything that can be called a crop, to utter a cross word over it.
Old Mr. Channing, the clerk, came in by the gate from the lane, when thesun was getting high. Not that he meant to do much work--for anythingbut graves, his digging time was past, and it suited him better to makebreeches--but simply that he liked to know how things were going on, andthought it not impossible that if he praised the 'taturs, Churchwardenmight say--"Bob, you shall taste them; we'll drop you a bushel, when thebutt comes by your door." So he took up a root or two here and there,and "hefted it," (that is to say, poised it carefully to judge theweight, as one does a letter for the post) and then stroked the sleekskin lovingly, and put it down gingerly for fear of any bruise. FarmerJohn watched him, with a dry little grin; for he knew what the oldgentleman was up to.
"Never see'd such 'taturs in all my life," Mr. Channing declared with asigh of admiration. "Talk of varmers! There be nobody fit to hold acan'le to our Measter John. I reckon them would fry even better thanthey biled; and that's where to judge of a 'tatur, I contends."
"Holloa, Mr. Clerk! How be you then, this fine morning?" The farmershouted out, as if no muttering would do for him, while he straddledover a two-foot ridge, with the rime thawing down his gaiters. "Glad tosee 'e here, old veller. What difference do 'e reckon now, betwixt a manand a 'tatur?"
Farmer John was famous for his riddles. He made them all himself, inconversation with his wife--for he had not married early--and there wasno man in the parish yet with brains enough to solve them. And if anyone attempted it, the farmer always snubbed him.
"There now, ye be too deep for me!" Mr. Channing made a hole in theground with his stick, as if Mr. Horner was at the bottom of it. "Itrequireth a good deal more than us have got, to get underneath yourmeaning, sir."
"No, Bob, no! It be very zimple, and zuitable too for your trade. A'tatur cometh out of ground, when a' be ripe; but a man the zame waygoeth underground. And a good thing for him, if he 'bideth there,according to what hath been done in these here parts, or a little way upcountry. No call for thee to laugh, Bob, at thy time of life, whenbehooveth thee to think over it. But I'll give thee an order for a pairof corduroys, and thou shalt have a few 'taturs, when the butt comes by.Us, as belongs to the Church, is bound to keep her agoing, when the hogswon't miss it! But there, Lord now, I want a score of nose-rings? Have'e see'd anything of Joe Crang, this morning? We never heer'd nort ofhis anvil all the time! Reckon Joe had a drop too much at the _Bush_,last night."
"Why, here a' coom'th!" exclaimed the clerk. "Look, a' be claimbin' ofan open gate! Whatever can possess the man? A' couldn't look more mazedand weist, if a hunderd ghostesses was after him?"
Joseph Crang, the blacksmith at Susscot ford, where the Susscot brookpassed on its way to the Perle, was by nature of a merry turn, andshowed it in his face. But he had no red now, nor even any black abouthim, and the resolute aspect, with which he shod a horse, or swung a bighammer, was changed into a quivering ghastly stare; his lips were of anashy blue, like a ring of tobacco smoke; and as for his body, and legs,and clothes, they seemed to have nothing to do with one another.
"What aileth the man?" cried Mr. Channing, standing across, as he hadthe right to do, after bestraddling so many burials; "Master Joe Crang,I call upon thee to collect thy wits, and out with it."
"Joe, thy biggest customer hath a right to know thy meaning." FarmerJohn had been expecting to have to run away; but was put in courage bythe clerk, and brought up his heels in a line with the old man's.
"Coompany, coompany is all I axes for," the blacksmith gasped weakly, asif talking to himself--"coompany of living volk, as rightly is alive."
"Us be all alive, old chap. But how can us tell as you be?" The clerkwas a seasoned man of fourscore years, and knew all the tricks ofmortality.
"I wish I wadn't. A'most I wish I wadn't, after all I zee'd last night.But veel of me, veel of me, Measter Channin', if you plaise to veel ofme."
"Tull 'e what," the Churchwarden interposed; "gie 'un a drink of zider,Bob. If a' be Joe Crang, a' won't say no to thiccy. There be my ownlittle zup over by the hedge, Joe."
Without any scruple the blacksmith afforded this proof of vitality. Thecider was of the finest strain--"three stang three," as they calledit--and Joe looked almost like himself, as he put down the little woodenkeg, with a deep sigh of comfort.
"Maketh one veel like a man again," he exclaimed, as he flapped himselfon the chest. "Master Hornder, I owe 'e a good turn for this. Lord onlyknoweth where I maight a' been, after a' visited me zo last night. Itwas a visit of the wicked one, by kitums." Master Crang hitched up histrousers, and seemed ready to be off again. But the Churchwarden grippedhim by the collar.
"Nay, man. Shan't have it thy own way. After what us have doed for thythroat, us have a call upon thy breath. Strange ways with strangers;open breast with bellyful."
The honest blacksmith stood in doubt, and some of his terror crept backagain. "Bain't for me to zettle. Be a job for Passon Penniloe. Sworeupon my knees I did. Here be the mark on my small-clothes. Passon is theonly man can set my soul to liberty."
"What odds to us about thy soul? 'Tis thy tongue we want, lad?" thesenior Churchwarden cried impatiently. "Thou shalt never see a groat ofmine again, unless thou speakest."
"Passon hath a chill in's bones, and the
doctor hath been called tohim," Mr. Channing added, with a look of upper wisdom. "Clerk andChurchwarden, in council assembled, hath all the godliness of a rubric."
The blacksmith was moved, and began to scratch his head. "If a' couldonly see it so?" he muttered--"howsomever, horder they women vessels outo' zight. A woman hath no need to hear, if her can zee--according as thewise man sayeth. And come where us can see the sun a shinin'; for mywords will make 'e shiver, if ye both was tombstones. I feel myself abusting to be rid of them."
Master Crang's tale--with his speech fetched up to the manner of theeast of England, and his flinty words broken into our road-metal--mayfairly be taken for spoken as follows:--
"No longer agone than last night, I tell you, I went to bed, pretty muchas usual, with nothing to dwell upon in my mind; without it was poorSquire's funeral, because I had been attending of it. I stayed prettynearly to the last of that, and saw the ground going in again; and thenI just looked in at the _Bush_, because my heart was downsome. All thecompany was lonesome, and the room was like a barn after a bad coldharvest, with a musty nose to it. There was nobody with spirit to standglasses round, and nobody with heart to call for them. The Squire wasthat friendly-minded, that all of us were thinking--'The Lord alwaystaketh the best of us. I may be the one to be called for next.' Then anold man in the corner, who could scarcely hold his pipe, began in a lowvoice about burials, and doctors, and the way they strip the graves upthe country; and the others fell in about their experience; and withonly two candles and no snuffers but the tongs, any one might take usfor a company of sextons.
"The night was cruel cold, when I come out, and everything looking weistand unkid, and the big bear was right across the jags of church-tower;and with nothing inside to keep me up to the mark, and no neighbourmaking company, the sound of my own heels was forced upon my ears, asyou might say, by reason of the gloomy road, and a spark of flintsometimes coming up like steel-filings, when I ran to keep heat, for Ihad not so much as a stick with me. And when I got home I roused up theforge-fire, so as to make sure where I was, and comfort my knuckles; andthen I brashed it down, with coals at present figure, for the morning.
"As it happened, my wife had been a little put out, about something orother in the morning; you know how the women-folk get into ways, andcome out of them again, without no cause. But when she gets into thatframe of mind, she never saith much, to justify it, as evil-temperedwomen do, but keeps herself quiet, and looks away bigly, and leaves meto do things for myself; until such time as she comes round again. So Itook a drink of water from the shoot, instead of warming up the teapot,and got into bed like a lamb, without a word; leaving her to beginagain, by such time as she should find repentance. And before I went tosleep, there was no sound to be heard in the house, or in the shopbelow; without it was a rat or two, and the children snoring in theinner room, and the baby breathing very peaceful in the cradle to theother side of the bed, that was strapped on, to come at for nursing ofher.
"Well, I can't say how long it may have been, because I sleep ratherheartily, before I was roused up by a thundering noise going through thehouse, like the roaring of a bull. Sally had caught up the baby, and washugging and talking, as if they would rob her of it; and when I askedwhat all this hubbub was, 'You had better go and see,' was all she said.Something told me it was no right thing; and my heart began beating asloud as a flail, when I crept through the dark to the window in thethatch; for the place was as black almost as the bottom of mydipping-trough, and I undid the window, and called out, 'Who is there?'with as much strength as ever I was master of, just then.
"'Come down, or we'll roast you alive,' says a great gruff voice that Inever heard the like of; and there I saw a red-hot clinker in my owntongs, a sputtering within an inch of my own smithy thatch.
"'For God's sake, hold hard!' says I, a thinking of the little ones.'In less than two minutes I'll be with you.' I couldn't spare time tostrike a light, and my hands were too shaky for to do it. I huddled onmy working clothes anyhow, going by the feel of them; and then I gropedmy way downstairs, and felt along the wall to the backway into workshop,and there was a little light throwing a kind of shadow from the firebeing bellowsed up; but not enough to see things advisedly. The door hadbeen kicked open, and the bar bulged in; and there in the dark stood aterrible great fellow, bigger than Dascombe, the wrestler, by a foot; sofar as I could make out by the stars, and the glimmer from the water.Over his face he had a brown thing fixed, like the front of a fiddlewith holes cut through it, and something I could not make out wasstrapped under one of his arms like a holster.
"'Just you look here, man, and look at nothing else, or it will be worsefor you. Bring your hammer and pincers, while I show a light.'
"'Let me light a lantern, sir,' I said, as well as I could speak forshivering; 'if it is a shoeing job, I must see what I am about.'
"'Do what I say, blacksmith; or I'll squash you under your anvil.'
"He could have done it as soon as looked; and I can't tell you how I putmy apron on, and rose the step out of shop after him. He had got alittle case of light in one hand, such as I never saw before, all blackwhen he chose, but as light as the sun whenever he chose to flash it,and he flashed it suddenly into my eyes, so that I jumped back, like apig before the knife. But he caught me by the arm, where you see thisbig blue mark, and handed me across the road like that.
"'Blast the horse! Put his rotten foot right,' he says. And sure enoughthere was a fine nag before me, quaking and shaking with pain andfright, and dancing his near fore-foot in the air, like a Christiandisciple with a bad fit of the gout.
"That made me feel a bit like myself again; for there never was no harmin a horse, and you always know what you are speaking to. I took hispoor foot gently, as if I had kid gloves on, and he put his frothy lipsinto my whiskers, as if he had found a friend at last.
"The big man threw the light upon the poor thing's foot, and it wasoozing with blood and black stuff like tar. 'What a d----d fuss he makesabout nothing!' says the man, or the brute I should call him, that stoodbehind me. But I answered him quite spirity, for the poor thing wastrying to lick my hand with thankfulness, 'You'd make a d----der, if itwas your foot,' I said; 'he hath got a bit of iron driven right upthrough his frog. Have him out of shafts. He isn't fit to go nofurther.' For I saw that he had a light spring-cart behind him, with atarpaulin tucked in along the rails.
"'Do him where he stands, or I'll knock your brains out;' said thefellow pushing in, so as to keep me from the cart. 'Jem, stand by hishead. So, steady, steady!'
"As I stooped to feel my pincers, I caught just a glimpse under thenag's ribs of a man on his off-side, with black clothes on, a shortsquare man, so far as I could tell: but he never spoke a word, andseemed ever so much more afraid to show himself than the big fellow was,though he was shy enough. Then I got a good grip on the splinter of theshoe, which felt to me more like steel than iron, and pulled it outsteadily and smoothly as I could, and a little flow of blood came afterit. Then the naggie put his foot down, very tenderly at first, the sameas you put down an over-filled pint.
"'Gee-wugg's the word now,' says the big man to the other; and sorry Iam to my dying bones that I stopped them from doing it. But I feltsomehow too curious, through the thicket of my fright, and wise folkssay that the Lord hath anger with men that sleep too heartily.
"'Bide a bit,' I told him, 'till I kill the inflammation, or he won't goa quarter of a mile before he drops;' and before he could stop me, I ranback, and blew up a merry little blaze in the shop, as if to make asearch for something, and then out I came again with a bottle in myhand, and the light going flickering across the road. The big man stoodacross, as if to hide the cart; but the man behind the horse skittedback into a bush, very nimble and clever, but not quite smart enough.
"The pretty nag--for he was a pretty one and kind, and now I couldswear to him anywhere--was twitching his bad foot up and down, as if toask how it was getting on; and I got it in my hand, and he gave it lik
ea lamb, while I poured in a little of the stuff I always keep ready fortheir troubles, when they have them so. For the moment I was bold, inthe sense of knowing something, and called out to the man I was somortal frit of--'Master, just lend a hand for a second, will you; standat his head in case it stingeth him a bit.' Horse was tossing of hishead a little, and the chap came round me, and took him by the nose, thesame as he had squeezed me by the arm.
"'I must have one hind-foot up, or he will bolt,' says I; though theLord knows that was nonsense; and I slipped along the shaft, and put myhand inside the wheel, and twitched up the tarpaulin that was tuckedbelow the rail. At the risk of my life it was; and I knew that much,although I was out of the big man's sight. And what think you I saw, inthe flickering of the light? A flicker it was, like the lick of atongue; but it's bound to abide as long as I do. As sure as I am aliving sinner, what I saw was a dead man's shroud. Soft, and delicate,and white it was, like the fine linen that Dives wore, and frilled withrare lace, like a wealthy baby's christening; no poor man, even in theworld to come, could afford himself such a winding-sheet. TamsinTamlin's work it was; the very same that we saw in her window, and youknow what that was bought for. What there was inside of it was left forme to guess.
"I had just time to tuck the tarpaulin back, when the big man comes atme with his light turned on. 'What the ---- are you doing with thatwheel?' says he, and he caught me by the scruff of the neck, and swungme across the road with one hand, and into my shop, like a sack with thecorn shot out of it. 'Down on your knees!' he said, with no call to sayit, for my legs were gone from under me, and I sprawled against my owndipping-trough, and looked up to be brained with my own big hammer. 'Noneed for that,' he saith, for he saw me glancing at it; 'my fist wouldbe enough for a slip such as you. But you be a little too peart, MasterSmith. What right have you to call a pair of honest men sheep-stealers?'
"I was so astonished that I could not answer, for the thought of thathad never come nigh me. But I may have said--_Shish_--_shish!_ to soothethe nag; and if I did, it saved my life, I reckon.
"'Now swear, as you hoped to be saved,' says he, 'that never a wordshall pass your lips about this here little job to-night.' I swore it byMatthew, Mark, Luke, and John; but I knew that I never could stick toit. 'You break it,' says he, 'and I'll burn you in your bed, and everysoul that belongs to you. Here's your dibs, blacksmith! I always payhandsome.' He flung me a crown of King George and the Dragon, and beforeI could get up again, the cart was gone away.
"Now, I give you my word, Farmer Hornder, and the very same to you ClerkChanning, it was no use of me to go to bed again, and there never was anightcap would stay on my head without double-webbing girths to it. Bythe mercy of the Lord, I found a thimbleful of gin, and then I roused uplight enough to try to make it cheerful; and down comes Sally, like afaithful wife, to find out whatever I was up to. You may trust me fortelling her a cock-and-bull affair; for 'twas no woman's business, andit might have killed the baby."