CHAPTER XXII
WISE JAN PETTIGREW
Gently, very gently, they laid in the earth the body of the LittleMarie, and Wat Gordon said the prayer over her he could not rememberbefore when she lay a-dying. It was a prayer to the Lord who takesreckoning with the intents of the heart as well as with the deeds ofthe body.
Under the shelter of a great dune they laid her, digging the grave asdeep as they could, using the same tools with which they had intrenchedthe citadel she had helped them so well to defend. They laid her on thelandward side, under a huge cliff of sand, so that as the winds blewand the sand wave advanced, it might bury her deeper and ever deepertill the trumpet of the archangel should blow _reveille_ upon the mornof final judgment.
"And then," said Scarlett, with conviction, "I had liefer take mychance with Marie, the sinner, than with Barra or Kersland, thoseprecious and well-considered saints."
Wat Gordon said not a word. But he stood a longer space than for hisown safety he ought, leaning upon the long handle of his spade andlooking at the fresh, moist sand which alone marked the grave of theLittle Marie in the waste.
The defeat which had befallen the forces of Haxo was final enough,for among the rank and file there was not the least desire to pursuethe conflict for its own sake. And, moreover, the death of so manyof their companions was sufficient to intimidate the survivors. YetWat and Scarlett were by no means free from danger. For one thing,both Haxo and the fugitives from the party of their assailants wereperfectly acquainted with their identity, and the fact of Wat's beingan escaped prisoner of the State was quite enough to bring upon themmore legitimate though not less dangerous enemies.
By following circuitous and secluded paths, Wat and Scarlett foundtheir way to a wooden shed on the verges of the cultivated land. Thelower floors were evidently used in the winter for cattle, but theupper parts were still half full of hay, long and coarse, cut from thepolders which lay at the back of the dunes.
Here among the rough, fragrant, pleasant hay the two men lay down, andWat fell instantly asleep--the training of his old days in the heatherreturning to him, and in combination with the fatigues and anxieties ofthe night and morning, causing him to forget the manifold dangers ofhis position. Scarlett, having apparently left sleep behind him withhis drowsy regiment, occupied himself dourly in making up the accountof the pays still due to him by the paymaster of his corps, shaking hishead and grumbling as each item was added to the formidable column, nota solitary stiver of which he could ever hope to receive.
It was again growing dusk when Wat awoke, much refreshed by his sleep.He found Scarlett leaning on his elbow and watching him with grimamusement.
"I suppose," he said, "once I was a fool and fathoms deep in loveas well as you. But I do not believe that ever I slept in thisfashion--saying over and over, 'Kate, dear Kate,' all the time, in avoice like a calf bleating for a milk-pail on the other side of thegate."
Wat turned his head and pretended not to hear. He was in no mood tobarter windy compliments with Jack Scarlett, who on his part lovednothing better, save only wine and a pretty woman. The grave of thegirl who had died for love of him was too new under the dunes of Lis;the fate of his own true-love too dark and uncertain.
So soon, therefore, as it grew dusk enough, Wat and Scarlett betookthemselves without further speech down to the little harbor, to seewhat might be obtained there in the way of a boat to convey them out ofHolland. At first they had some thought of getting a fisherman to landthem at Hamburg, whence it would be easy enough to take passage eitherto England or to Scotland, as they might decide.
The town of Lis was small, and its harbor but a shallow basin intowhich at high-water half a dozen fishing-boats at most might enter.There were few people about the long, straggling, shoreward street,and there was none of the cheerful bustle and animation characteristicof a Dutch town at evening. For many of the men were away serving inthe armies of the States-General, and most of the others were at thefishing off the banks of Texil. In the harbor itself they saw nothingto suit their purpose, and none at whom to ask a question. Nor did somuch as a dog bark at them.
But on the shingle outside of the harbor, at a place where a ledge ofrock ran up out of the sea, with the waves gently washing one side ofit, there was drawn up a ship's boat of moderate dimensions, and besideit, seated on the stern with his legs dangling over the painted name,lounged a curious-looking individual, smoking a short, small-bowledpipe. He was a youth, of years numbering somewhere between eighteenand thirty--of the sleek-faced, beardless sort that does not changemuch for twenty years. The most boundless self-sufficiency marked hisappearance and attitude. When he saw Wat and Scarlett approach he roselazily, stretched his long, lank legs, turned his back on them in amarked manner, and gazed seaward from under the level palm of his hand.
"I bid you good-evening," said Scarlett, saluting Sir Stork as politelyas if he had been the stadtholder of Lis; "can you tell us if in thistown there are any boats that may be hired to take certain passengersto Rotterdam?"
For they thought it well, in any bargaining, to give out that city astheir port, and to change the destination after they had got to sea--bypersuasion or by force of arms, if necessary.
"That do I not," replied the unknown, promptly, in good English, thoughScarlett had spoken in Dutch.
"But the boat upon which you are leaning?" pursued Scarlett, "is shenot a vessel which a man may hire for a just price?"
The lad took three draws of his pipe in a consequential way beforeanswering. He tapped the bowl meditatively on his thigh.
"This boat," he said, at length, "of which I am in charge, is theproperty of Captain Smith, of the _Sea Unicorn_, a distinguishedEnglish merchantman, burgess of the town of Poole--and I am responsiblefor her safekeeping till such time as she can be conveyed to that town."
"It is indeed both an onerous and an honorable task," quoth Scarlett,"and one that could only be intrusted to a man of sense andprobity--and I am sure from your appearance that you are both."
Wat Gordon was getting tired of this bandying of words, and showedsymptoms of breaking in. But as the youth looked seaward Scarlett dughis companion in the side with his elbow, in token that he was to besilent. Old Jack had an idea.
"Captain Smith was perhaps overtaken by the late storm," he said,warily, "and so compelled to leave his long-boat behind him?"
"Aye, and Wise Jan Pettigrew (for so I am nominated in all Pooleand Branksea) was left in charge of it," said the youth, with proudconsequence. "An important cargo was taken out to the _Sea Unicorn_ inthis boat, I warrant, and one that will bring a high price when CaptainSmith comes to reckon charges with the owner of that pretty thing."
"Ah, Wise Master Jan Pettigrew, but you carry as pretty a wit and asshrewd a tongue in that head of yours as I have met with for many aday," said Scarlett, in a tone of high admiration.
"So--so," said Jan Pettigrew, complacently crossing his legs again onthe boat and taking deeper and deeper whiffs of his refilled pipe.
"Aye, marry! a shrewd tongue and a biting. And whither might thistreasure be going?" asked Wat, with more anxiety on his face than heought to have shown. Scarlett darted an angry glance at him, and thetallowy youth, taking his pipe out of his mouth and holding it in hishand, regarded him with slowly dawning suspicion.
"The matter is naturally a secret of my noble employer's," he replied,with dignity, "and of Captain Smith's. It has not been communicated tome with the idea of my retailing it to any chance idler on the beachwho happens to come asking insolent questions."
"Certainly you are right, and very well said, Master Pettigrew,"said Scarlett, with admiration. "Wat, my lad, that settles you, I amthinking. The gentleman has his secrets, and he means to keep them. Andmightily prudent of him, too. But as to this boat," he went on, "yourmaster cannot mean you to take her along the coast by yourself all theway to meet him in Hamburg?"
"My master has not gone to Hamburg," cried Jan Pettigrew, "but firstof all to his own town of Poole
, or at least to a place near by, whichis also a secret with himself and with those who have the honor toserve him, and in whom he reposes confidence."
Scarlett once more glanced round reprovingly at Wat.
"Ah, let this be a lesson to you, young sirrah," he said; "see howcarefully and yet how politely this gentleman can keep his master'ssecrets? Truly, this is a fellow to be trusted."
Wise Jan Pettigrew puffed and blew upon his pipe with such swellingimportance, that finally he choked and went off into a fit of coughingwhich threatened to end him once for all. For he was but loosely hungtogether, of bilious complexion, and with a weak, hollow chest. Butall the time of his coughing he was struggling to tell something whichpleased him, choking at once with laughter and with the reek which hadgone the wrong way when Scarlett tickled his vanity with flatteringwords.
"_Oo-hoo_," he cried, chokingly, "and the cream of thejoke--_oo-hoo_--is that the captain, being a widower, is sure to fallin love with the lass himself. And at Poole town, when his madcapdaughter comes aboard at Branksea, as she ever does, I warrant it thatshe makes the fur to fly. Would that I had been there to see! 'Twill bea rare lillibullero! She'll pipe up Bob's-a-dying!"
Wat's eyes gleamed like a flame, but Scarlett darted a side-look underhis brows at him, so swift and fierce that he started back and wassilent. "For the love of God," the look said, "hold your fool's tongueand let me finish what I have begun."
"Master Jan Pettigrew," quoth Scarlett, still more seductively, "youare a man after my own heart. Fain would I go a little cruise, as itmight be for pleasure, with a man of your wit and discretion. I tellthee what--Captain Smith cannot be back for a long season. Now we twoare anxious to go on a little pleasure-trip to England. There is a mastin the boat. The wind and weather are fair. We have both of us gotgood Dutch guilders in our pouches. You, like other brave campaigners,have, I doubt not, both sore need of such and a bonny young lass ofyour own in Poole, or elsewhere, to spend them upon. Why should not wethree put the boat's head towards England this fine brisk night, withthe wind in our quarter, and boldly steer our way thither? Would it notsurprise Captain Smith greatly and make much for your advancement ifhe should see his long-boat come sailing in after him safe and sound?And how famous would Master Jan Pettigrew be then! Why, every coastwiseship-master would be eager to give him a fine vessel to command, on thestrength of such a deed of seamanship!--while all the maids would gowild for his favor, and the home-staying lads would run crazy for verygreen envy for him."
As Scarlett spoke the pursing of Jan Pettigrew's mouth graduallyslackened and the corners widened, till his countenance became in trutha finely open one--most like that of the monk-fish when he lies at thebottom of the sea with his jaws wide for sticklebacks and codlings toventure within. At the picture of his triumphant return his dull eyesglistened, and when Scarlett spoke of his fortune among the maids, heslid down from the boat and slapped his thigh.
"Ods fegs, I'll risk it--I have more than half a mind. But"--hescratched his head and hesitated--"the provisions for such acruise--they will cost much?"
He looked cunningly at Scarlett, who motioned with his hand behind himto Wat. Lochinvar slid an arm about his waist and undid his belt, fromwhich he took a couple of gold pieces. These he put into Scarlett'sbeckoning palm.
"The provisions, sayest thou?" quoth Scarlett, deftly jerking oneof these into his pocket. "Have no care for that. Here is one pieceof gold for you--go into the village of Lis and buy whatever may benecessary for our voyage. And," he continued, "there is no need to tella man of the understanding of Jan Pettigrew that, when talking to theyokels of Lis, we are only going a little voyage to the Banks to catchthe saith and limber-cod."
Scarlett rubbed his finger along the side of his nose with suchcontagious cunning that Jan also rubbed his and leered back at him inas knowing a manner.
"Trust Wise Jan," he said; "not a word shall they know from me--I am asdeep in counsel as a draw-well. There is no bucket can draw aught frommy mind unless my will be the rope to pull it up withal."
"Haste you, then," said Scarlett; "speak not to the people at all, forsafety's sake, but come back quickly with the provender. And in themean time my friend and I will fill the casks and beakers with water,so that we may be ready to start as soon as you return."
Lochinvar: A Novel Page 25