The Salamanca Corpus: Wandering Heath (1896)
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[248]
Master Simon emptied his glass, rose, and wound his great comforter about his neck. The widow saw him to the door. "You're a very obstinate woman," he said. And with this he unmoored his boat and rowed resolutely homeward. A strong wind came piping down on the back of a strong tide, and Master Simon arched his shoulders against it. “Married man or mariner," it piped, as he rounded the first bend. “I know my own mind, I believe," said Master Simon to himself; "there's as good fish in the sea as ever came out of it; and for salmon ' Flowing Source ' will beat Christ-church any day, I've always maintained." "Married man or mariner," piped the wind in the words of Ann the cook. Master Simon pulled his left paddle hard and rounded the second bend. “Married man or mar-------" Crash! His heels flew up and his head struck the bottom boards. Then, in a moment, the boat was gone, and a rush of water sang in his ears and choked him. He saw a black shadow overhanging, and clutched at it. [249] Mistress Prudence stood in her doorway on the quay, as Master Simon had left her. In the room above, the waitress blew out her candle, drew up the blind, and opened her window to the moonlight. “Selina!" the mistress called. Selina thrust out her head. “What's that coming down the river? " A black, unshapely mass, was moving swiftly down towards the quay. “I think 'tis a haystack," Selina whispered, and then, "Lord save us all, there's a man on it! " "A man?" cried the widow, shrilly. '' What man? " A voice answered the question, calling for help out of the river—a voice that she knew. “What is it?" she called back. "I think," quavered Master Simon, "I think 'tis the roof o' ' Flowing Source '! " Mistress Prudence ran down the quay steps, cast off the first boat that lay handy, and pulled towards the dark mass sweeping seaward. As it crossed ahead of her bows, she dropped the paddles, ran to the painter, and flung it forward with ail her might. [250] The "Pandora's Box Inn" stands on Ponteglos Quay to this day. And all that is left of "Flowing Source" hangs on the wall of its best parlour—four dark oak timbers forming a frame around a portrait, the portrait of a woman of middle age and comfortable countenance. In the right-hand top-corner of the picture, in letters of faded gold, runs the legend— VXOR BONA INSTAR NAVIS [251]
EXPERIMENTS [253]
I A YOUNG MAN'S DIARY Monday, Sept. 7th, 189—. I am one year old to-day. I imagine that most people regard their first birthday as something of an event; a harvest-home of innocence, touched with I know not how delicate a bloom of virginal anticipation; of emotion too volatile for analysis, or perhaps eluding analysis by its very simplicity. But whatever point the festival might have had for me was rudely destroyed by my parents, who chose this day for jolting me back to London in a railway-carriage. We have just arrived home from Newquay, Cornwall, where we have been spending the summer holidays for the sake of my health, as papa has not scrupled to blurt out, once or twice, in my presence. There is a strain of coarseness in papa; or perhaps I should say—for the impression it leaves is primarily negative, as of some [254]
thing manqué—an incompleteness in the sensitive equipment. As yet it can hardly be said to embarrass me; though I foresee a time when I shall have to apologise for it to strangers. There is nothing absurd in this. If a man may take pride in his ancestry, why may he not apologise for his papa? My papa will be forgiven, for he is so splendidly healthy! He left our compartment at Bristol and did not return again until the train stopped at Swindon. In the interval, mamma took me from nurse and endeavoured to hush me to sleep by singing— “Father's gone a-hunting...." which was untrue, for he had merely withdrawn to a smoking compartment. My nurse—an egregious female—had previously remarked, "The dear child do take such notice of the puff-puff!" As a matter of fact, I took no interest in the locomotive; but I had observed it sufficiently to be sure that it offered no facilities for hunting. A few months ago I might have accepted the explanation: for our family has affinity with what is vulgarly termed the upper class, and my father inherits its crude and primitive instincts; among them a passion for the chase. [255]
His appearance, as he returned to our compartment, oppressed me for the hundredth time with a sense of its superabundant and even riotous vitality. His cheeks were glowing, and his whiskers sprouted like cabbages on either side of his otherwise clean-shaven face. An indefinable flavour of the sea mingled with the odour of tobacco which he diffused about the carriage. It seemed as if the virile breezes of that shaggy Cornish coast still blew about him; and I felt again that constriction of the chest from which I had suffered during the past month. After all, it is good to be back in London! Newquay, with its obvious picturesqueness, its violent colouring, its sands, rocks, breakers and bye-laws regulating the costume of bathers, merely exasperated my nerves. How far more subtle the appeal of these grey and dun-coloured opacities, these tent-cloths of fog pressed out into uncouth, dumbly pathetic shapes by the struggle for existence that seethes below it always—always! Decidedly I must begin to-morrow to practise walking. It seems a necessary step towards acquainting myself with the inner life of these toiling millions, which must be well worth knowing. Papa, on arriving at our door, [256] plunged into an altercation with a cab-tout. What a man! And yet sometimes I could find it in my heart to envy his robustness, his buoyancy. A Huntley and Palmer's Nursery Biscuit in a little hot water has somewhat quieted my nerves, which suffered cruelly during the scene. I believe I shall sleep tonight. Tuesday, 8th. The beginning of Sturm und Drang; I am learning to walk. Moreover I have surprised in myself, during the day, a tendency to fall in love with my nurse. On the pretence that walking might give me bandy legs she caught me up and pressed me to her bosom. We have no affinities; indeed beyond cleanliness and a certain unreasoning honesty, she can be said to possess no attributes at all. I am convinced that a serious affection for her could only flourish on an intellectual atrophy; and yet for a while I abandoned myself. We went out into the bright streets together, and it was delicious to be propelled by her strong arms. We halted, on our way to Kensington Gardens, to listen to a German band. The voluptuous waltz-music affected me strangely, and I was sorry that, owing to my position in the vehicle, her face was hidden from me. In [257]
the midst of my ecstasy, a square object on wheels came round the street corner. It was painted a bright vermilion and bore the initials of K.V.—"Kytherea Victrix!" I cried in my heart; but as it passed, at a slow pace, it rained a flood of tears upon the dusty roadway, For some time after I sat in a strange calm, but with a sensation in the region of the diaphragm as if I had received a severe blow; and in truth I had. But the shock was salutary, and by the time that nurse and I were seated together by the Round Pond, I was able to listen to her talk without a quiver of the eyelids. Poor soul! What malefic jest of Fate led her to select the story of Georgie-Porgie? “Georgie-Porgie, pudding and pie...." It is as irrelevant as life itself. '' Georgie-Porgie, pudding and pie, Kissed the girls and made them cry...." Why pudding? Why pie? Why—if you ask this—why any realism? These concrete accidents solidify a thin and abstract love-story for our human comprehension. Or are they, perchance, symbolical? Georgie- [258] Porgie's promises, like pie-crust, were made to be broken. He— “Kissed the girls and made them cry. When the girls came out to play, Georgie-Porgie ran away." —Simple solution of the difficulty! And I am already learning to walk! Poor woman! Wednesday, 9th. I am troubled whenever I reflect on the subject of heredity. It terrifies me to think that I may grow up to resemble papa. Mamma, too, is hardly less a savage: she wore diamonds in her hair when she came up to the nursery, late last night, to look at me. She believed that I was asleep; but I wasn't, and I never in my life felt so sorry that I couldn't speak. The appalling barbarism of those trinkets! It is raining this afternoon—the sky weeping like a Corot—and I am forced to stay indoors and affect an interest in Noah and his ark! Nurse's father came up and accosted her in the Gardens this morning. He is one of the Submerged Tenth, and extremely interesting. On the threat of running off with me and pitching me neck and crop into the Round Pond, he extracted half-a-crown from her. She gave him the [259] coin docilely. I found myself almost hoping that he would raise his price, that I might discover how much the poor creature was ready to sacrifice for my sake. She is looking pale this afternoon; but this may be because I cried half the night and kept her awake. The fact is, I was cutting a tooth. I have given up learning to walk; but have some idea of trying somnambulism instead. Thursday, 10th. To-day I was spanked for the first time. When I have stopped crying, I mean to analyse my sensations. [261]
II THE CAPTAIN FROM BATH Extract from, the Memoirs of Gabriel Foot, Highwayman Our plan of attack upon Nanscarne House was a simple one. The old baronet, Sir Harry Dinnis, took a just pride in his silver-ware. Some of it dated from Elizabeth: for Sir Harry's great-great-grandfather, as the unhappy alternative of melting it down for King Charles, had taken arms against his Majesty and come out of the troubles of those times with wealth and credit. The house, too, was Elizabethan, shaped like the letter L, and, like that letter, facing eastward. The longer arm, which looked down the steep slope of the park, contained the entrance-hall, chapel, dining-hall, principal living-rooms, and kitchens. The ground-floor of the other (and to us [262] more important) arm was taken up by the housekeeper's rooms, audit-room and various offices, the butler's bedroom, and the strongroom, where the plate lay. On the upper floor a long gallery full of pictures ran from end to end, with a line of doors on the southern side, all opening into bedrooms, except one which led to the back-stairs. Now, properly speaking, the strong-room was no strong-room at all. It had an ordinary deal door and an ordinary country-made lock. But in some ways it was very strong indeed. The only approach to it on the ground-floor lay through the butler's bedroom, of which you might call it but a cupboard. It had no window, and could not therefore be attacked from outside. The very small amount of light that entered it filtered through a pane of glass in the wall of the back-staircase, which ran up close behind. I have said enough, I hope, for any reflective man to draw the conclusion that, since we desired no unpleasantness with the butler (a man between fifty and sixty, and notoriously incorruptible), our only plan was to make an entrance upstairs by the long window at the end of the picture gallery, or [263] corridor—whichever you choose to call it— descend the back-stairs, remove the pane of glass from the wall, and gain the strongroom through 'the opening. The house was dark from end to end, and the stable clock had just chimed the quarter after midnight, when I went up the ladder. I never looked for much carefulness in this honest country household, but I did expect to spend twenty minutes on the heavy lead-work of the lower panes, and it seemed as good as a miracle to find the lattice unlatched and opening to the first gentle pull. I pressed it back; hitched it under a stem of ivy that the wind might not slam it after me; and, signalling down to Jimmy at the foot of the ladder to wait for my report, pulled myself over the sill and dropped softly into the gallery. And then somebody stepped quickly from behind the heavy window curtain, reached out and shut the lattice smartly behind me, and said— “Show a light, Jenkins, and let us have a look at the gentleman." Though it concerned my neck, I was taken too quickly aback to stir; but stood like a stuck pig, while the butler fumbled with his tinder-box. [264] “Light all the candles." "If it please you, Sir Harry," Jenkins answered, puffing at the tinder. The first thing I saw by the blue light of the brimstone match was the barrel of old Sir Harry's pistol glimmering about six inches from my nose. On my/left stood a long-legged footman, also with a pistol. But all this, though discomposing, was no more than I had begun to expect. What really startled me, as old Jenkins lit the candles, was the sight of two women standing a few paces off, beneath a tall picture of a gentleman with a big lace collar. One of them, a short woman with a bunchy shape, I recognised for the housekeeper. The other I guessed as quickly to be Sir Harry's daughter, Mistress Kate—a tall and slender young lady, dark-haired, and handsome as any man could wish. She was wrapped in a long travelling-cloak, the hood of which fell a little off her shoulders, allowing a glimpse of white satin. A train of white satin reached below the cloak, and coiled about her pretty feet. Now, the change from darkness to very bright light—for Jenkins went down the gallery lighting candle after candle, as if for [265]
a big reception—made us all wink a bit. And excitement would account for the white of the young lady's cheeks—I dare say I had turned pretty pale myself. But it did not seem to me to account for the look of sheer blank astonishment—no, it was more than this; a wild kind of wonder would be nearer the mark — that came into her eyes and stayed there. And I didn't quite see why she should put a hand suddenly against the wainscot, and from sickly white go red as fire and then back to white again. If they were sitting up for housebreakers, I was decidedly a better-looking one than they had any right to expect. The eyes of the others were fastened on me. I was the only one to take note of the girl's behaviour: and I declare I spared a second from the consideration of my own case to wonder what the deuce was the matter with her. “Well, upon my soul!" cried Sir Harry, with something between a laugh and a sniff of disgust; and the footman on the other side of me echoed it with a silly cackle. "He certainly doesn't look as if he came from Bath! " "Sir," I expostulated—for when events seem likely to prove overwhelming, I usually [266]
find myself clutching at my original respectability—" Sir, although the force of circumstances has brought me thus low, I am by birth and education a gentleman. Having told you this, I trust that you will remember it, even in the heat of your natural resentment. '' "You speak almost as prettily as you write," he answered scornfully, pulling a letter from his pocket. "This is beyond me," thought I; for of course I knew it could be no letter of mine. Besides, a glance told me that I had never set eyes on the paper or handwriting before. I think my next remark showed self-possession. "Would you be kind enough to explain?" I asked. “I rather think that should be your business," said he; and faith, I allowed the justice of that contention, awkward as it was. But he went on, "It astonishes you, I dare say, to see this letter in my hand?'' It did. I acknowledged as much with a bow. He began to read in an affected mimicking voice, "My ever-loved Kate, since your worthy but wrong-headed father----'—'' '' Father!" It sounded like an echo. It [267]
came from the young lady, who had sprung forward indignantly, and was holding out a hand for the letter. '' The servants! Have you not degraded me enough?'' She stamped her foot. The old gentleman folded up the letter again, and gave it into her hand with a cold bow. She was handing it to me—Oh, the unfathomable depth of woman!—when he interfered. “For your own delectation if you will, miss; but as your protector I must ask you not to give it back.'' He turned towards me again. As he did so, I caught over his shoulder, or fancied I caught, a glance from Miss Kate that was at once a warning and an appeal. The next moment her eyes were bent shamefast upon the floor. I began to divine. Said I, "If that's a sample of your manner towards your daughter, even you, in your cooler moments, can hardly wonder that she chooses another protector." "Protector!" he repeated, lifting his eyebrows; and that infernal footman cackled again. "If you can't behave with common politeness to a lady," I put in smartly, "you [268]
might at least exhibit enough of rude intelligence to lay hold of an argument that's as plain as the nose on your face! '' “Gently, my good sir!" said he. "Do you know that, if I choose, I can march you off to gaol for a common housebreaker?'' I should think I did know it—a plaguy sight better than he! "To begin with," he went on, "you look like one, for all the world.'' This was sailing too close for my liking. "Old gentleman," said I, "you are wearisomely dull. Possibly I had better explain at length. To be frank, then, I had counted, in case of failure, to avoid all scandal to your daughter's name. I had hoped (you will excuse me) to have carried her off and evaded you until I could present myself as her husband. If baffled in this, I proposed to make my escape as a common burglar surprised upon your premises. It seems to me,'' I wound up, including the three servants with an indignant sweep of the arm, "that you might well have emulated my delicacy! As it is, I must trouble you to recognise it." "Heaven send," I added to myself, "that the real inamorato keeps his bungling [269]
foot out of this till I get clear!'' And I reflected with much comfort that he was hardly likely to make an attempt upon premises so brilliantly lit up. "In justice to my daughter's taste," replied Sir Harry, "I am willing to believe you looked something less like a gaol-bird when she met you in the Pump Room at Bath. You have fine clothes in your portmanteau no doubt, and I sincerely trust they make all the difference to your appearance. But a fine suit is no expensive outfit for the capture of an heiress. You may be the commonest of adventurers. How do I know, even, what right you have to the name you carry? " If he didn't, it was still more certain that I didn't. Indeed he had a conspicuous advantage over me in knowing what that name was. This very painful difficulty had hardly presented itself, however, before the girl's wit smoothed it away. She spoke up —looking as innocent as an angel, too. “Captain Fitzroy Pilkington could add no lustre to his name, father, by giving it tome. His family is as good as our own, and his name is one to be proud of.'' "So it is, my dear," thought I, "if I [270]
can only remember it. So it's Captain Fitzroy Pilkington I am—and from Bath. Decidedly I should have taken some time in guessing it." “I suppose, sir, I may take it for granted you have not brought your credentials here tonight? '' said the old boy, with a grim smile. It was lucky he had not thought of searching my pockets for them. “Scarcely, sir," I answered, smiling too and catching his mood; and then thought I would play a bold card for freedom. '' Come, come, sir," I said; "I have tried to deceive you, and you have enjoyed a very adequate revenge. Do not prolong this interview to the point of inflicting torture on two hearts whose only crime is that of loving too ardently. You have your daughter. Suffer me to return to the inn in the village, and in the morning I will call on you with my credentials and humbly ask for her hand. If, on due examination of my history and circumstances, you see fit to refuse me—why then you make two lovers miserable: but I give you my word—the word of a Fitzroy Pilkington—that I will respect that decision. 'Parcius junctas quatiam fenestras:' or, [271] rather, I will discontinue the practice altogether." "William," said Sir Harry, shortly, to the footman, '' show Mr. Pilkington to the door. Will you take your ladder away with you, sir, or will you call for it to-morrow?" “To-morrow will do," I said, airily, and stepping across to Mistress Kate I took her hand and raised it as if for a kiss. Her fingers gave mine an appreciative squeeze. '' But who in the world are you?'' she whispered. “I think," said I, bending over her hand, "I have fairly earned the right to withhold that." Sir Harry bowed a stiff good-night to me, and William, the footman, took a candle and led the way along the gallery and down the great staircase to the front door. While he. undid the chain and bolts I was thinking that he would be all the better for a kick; and as he drew aside to let me pass I took him quickly by the collar, spun him round, and gave him one. A flight of a dozen steps led down from the front door, and he pitched clean to the bottom. Running down after, [272]
I skipped over his prostrate body and walked briskly away in the darkness, whistling and feeling better. I went round the end of the gallery wing, just to satisfy myself that Jimmy had got away with the ladder, and then I struck across the plantation in the direction of the village. The June day was breaking before I turned out of the woods into the high-road, and already the mowers were out and tramping to their work. But in the porchway of the village inn—called the "Well-diggers' Arms '' — whatever they may be — I surprised a cockneyfied groom in the act of kissing a maiden who, having a milk-pail in either hand, could not be expected to resist. “H'm," said I to the man, "I am sorry to appear inopportunely, but I have a message for your master.'' The maiden fled. '' And who the doose may you be?" asked the groom, eying me up and down. "I think," I answered, "it will be enough for you that I come from Nanscarne. You were late there. Oh, yes," I went on sharply, for fellows of this class have a knack of irritating me, ''and I have a message for [273]
your master which I'll trouble you to deliver when he comes down to breakfast. You will tell him, if you please, that Sir Harry was expecting him last night, and the lights he saw lit in the long gallery were there for his reception. You won't forget?" “Who sent you here?" the fellow asked. "On second thoughts," I continued, "you had better go in and wake Captain Fitzroy Pilkington up at once. He will pardon you when he has my message, for Sir Harry's temper is notoriously impatient." And with that I turned and left him, for it was high time to find out how Jimmy had been faring. The past night's experience must have given him a shock, and I reckoned to give him another. I wasn't disappointed either. I walked leisurely down the village street, then crossed the hedge and doubled back on the high moors. At length, drawing near the old gravel-pit, where we had fixed to meet in case of separation, I dropped on all-fours and so came up to the edge and gave a whistle. Jimmy was sitting with his back to me, and about to cut a hunch of bread to eat [274] with his cold bacon for breakfast. Instead, he cut his thumb, and jumped up, singing out— "S'help me, but I never looked to see you again outside o' the dock! '' “No more you did," said I; and climbing down and sitting on a gravel-heap beside him, I told him all the story. "And now, Jimmy," I wound up, "you must guess what I'm going to do." “I don't need to," said he. "I know.'' “I wager you don't." “I wager I do." "Well, then, I'm going back. Was that what you guessed? " “I think you will not." “Ah, but I will," said I. "I swore by the blood of a Fitzroy Pilkington I'd be back in the morning, and I can’t retreat from so tremendous an oath as that. Back I mean to go. As for the real Captain—if Captain he is—I fancy I've scared him out of this neighbourhood for some time to come. And as for the credentials, I fancy, at my time of life, I should be able to write my own commendation. I believe the old boy has a sneaking good-will towards me. I can't answer for the girl; but I can answer [275]
that she'll hold her tongue for a while at all events. This life doesn't become a man of my education and natural ability. And the risk is worth running.'' "I wouldn't, if I were you," says he, very drily. '' And why not? '' "Well, you see, when I heard the noise last night, and all the place grew light as it did, I was just starting to run for dear life, till it struck me that if the folks meant to go searching for me they wouldn't begin by lighting the picture-gallery from end to end. So I drew close under shadow of the wall and" waited, ready to run at any moment. But after a while, finding that nothing happened, I grew curious and crept up after you and looked in through the window, very cautious. A nice fix you seemed to be in; but old Jenkins was there. And while Jenkins was there-------" "Well?" “Well, I should have thought you might have guessed. The bolt of his bedroom window -wasn't hard to force, nor the lock of the small room. Being single-handed, I had to pick and choose what to carry off. But if you'll look under the bracken yonder [276] you'll own I know my way among silverware. '' I looked at him for a moment, and then lay gently back on the turf and laughed till I was tired of laughing. THE END |