CHAPTER XXVI
LONG-PIPE TIMES
Daily now the roar and clank of war grew loud and louder, across thenarrow seas, and up the rivers, and around the quiet homes of England.If any unusual cloud of dust, any moving shade, appeared afar, if thetramp of horses in the lane were heard, or neigh of a colt from thefour-cross roads, people at dinner would start up and cry, "The French,the French have landed!" while the men in the fields would get nearerthe hedge to peep through it, and then run away down the ditch.
But the nation at large, and the governing powers, certainly were notin any great fright. Nay, rather they erred, if at all, on the sideof tranquillity and self-confidence; as one who has been fired at withblank-cartridge forgets that the click of the trigger will not tell himwhen the bullet has been dropped in. The bullet was there this time; andit missed the heart of Britannia, only through the failure of the powderto explode all at once.
It was some years before all this was known; even Nelson had noperception of it; and although much alarm was indulged in on the sly,the few who gave voice to it were condemned as faint-hearted fellowsand "alarmists." How then could Springhaven, which never had fearedany enemies, or even neighbours, depart from its habits, while stillan eye-witness of what had befallen the Frenchman? And in this state ofmind, having plenty to talk of, it did not (as otherwise must have beendone) attach any deep importance to the strange vagaries of the LondonTrader.
That great Institution, and Royal Exchange, as well as central embassyof Fashion, had lately become most uncertain in its dates, which foryears had announced to loose-reckoning housewives the day of the weekand the hour to buy candles. Instead of coming home on a Saturday eve,in the van of all the fishing fleet, returning their cheers and those ofcustomers on the beach, the London Trader arrived anywhen, as often inthe dark as daylight, never took the ground at all, and gave a very wideberth to Captain Zeb Tugwell, his craft, and his crews. At times shelanded packages big and bulky, which would have been searched (in spiteof London bills of lading) if there had been any Custom-house here,or any keen Officer of Customs. But these were delivered by daylightalways, and carted by Mr. Cheeseman's horse direct to his master'scellars; and Cheeseman had told everybody that his wife, having comeinto a little legacy, was resolved in spite of his advice to try a bitof speculation in hardware, through her sister miles away at Uckfield.Most of the neighbours liked Mrs. Cheeseman, because she gave goodweight (scarcely half an ounce short, with her conscience to her familythrown in against it), as well as the soundest piece of gossip to be hadfor the money in Springhaven. And therefore they wished her well, andboxed their children's ears if they found them poking nose into herpackages. Mrs. Cheeseman shook her head when enquired of on the subject,and said with grave truth that the Lord alone can tell how any of poorpeople's doings may turn out.
Some other things puzzled the village, and would in more sensible timeshave produced a sensation. Why did Mr. Cheeseman now think nothing of asmuch as three spots on his white linen apron, even in the first half ofthe week? Why was he seldom at John Prater's now, and silent in a cornereven when he did appear? What was become of the ruddy polish, like thatof a Winter Redstrake, on his cheeks, which made a man long for a sliceof his ham? Why, the only joke he had made for the last three months wasa terrible one at his own expense. He had rushed down the street aboutten o'clock one morning, at a pace quite insane for a middle-aged man,with no hat on his head and no coat on his back, but the strings ofhis apron dashed wild on the breeze, and his biggest ham-carver makingflashes in his hand. It was thought that some boy must have run off witha penny, or some visitor changed a bad shilling; but no, there was nosuch good reason to give for it.
The yearning of all ages, especially dotage, is for a relapse to theinfantile state when all playthings were held in common. And this wisestof all places (in its own opinion) had a certain eccentric inclinationtowards the poetic perfection when it will be impossible to steal,because there will be nothing left worth stealing. Still everybodyhere stuck to his own rights, and would knock down anybody across them,though finding it very nice to talk as if others could have no suchstanding-point. Moreover, they had sufficient common-sense to begin withthe right end foremost, and to take a tender interest in one another'sgoods, moveable, handy, and divisible; instead of hungering after hungryland, which feeds nobody, until itself well fed and tended, and is asuseless without a master as a donkey or a man is. The knowledge of theserudiments of civilization was not yet lost at Springhaven; and whileeverybody felt and even proved his desire to share a neighbour'strouble, nobody meddled with any right of his, save his right to beassisted.
Among them throve the old English feeling of respect for ancientfamilies, which is nowadays called "toadyism" by those whom it baulksof robbery. To trade upon this good-will is almost as low a thing as anyman can do, even when he does it for good uses. But to trade upon it,for the harm of those who feel it, and the ruin of his country, iswithout exception the very lowest--and this was what Caryl Carne was at.
He looked at the matter in a wholly different light, and would havestabbed any man who put it as above; for his sense of honour was asquick and hot as it was crooked and misguided. His father had beena true Carne, of the old stamp--hot-blooded, headstrong, stubborn,wayward, narrow-minded, and often arrogant; but--to balance these faultsand many others--truthful, generous, kind-hearted, affectionate, staunchto his friends, to his inferiors genial, loyal to his country, andrespectful to religion. And he might have done well, but for two sadevils--he took a burdened property, and he plunged into a bad marriage.
His wife, on the other hand, might have done well, if she had marriedalmost anybody else. But her nature was too like his own, with femininevanity and caprice, French conceit, and the pride of noble birth--in theproudest age of nobility--hardening all her faults, and hammering therivets of her strong self-will. To these little difficulties must beadded the difference of religion; and though neither of them cared twopins for that, it was a matter for crossed daggers. A pound of feathersweighs as much as (and in some poise more than) a pound of lead, andthe leaden-headed Squire and the feather-headed Madame swung always atopposite ends of the beam, until it broke between them. Tales of roughconflict, imprisonment, starvation, and even vile blows, were told aboutthem for several years; and then "Madame la Comtesse" (as her husbanddisdainfully called her) disappeared, carrying off her one child, Caryl.She was still of very comely face and form; and the Squire made known toall whom it concerned, and many whom it did not concern, that his Frenchwife had run away with a young Frenchman, according to the habit ofher race and kind. In support of this charge he had nothing whatever toshow, and his friends disbelieved it, knowing him to be the last man inthe world to leave such a wrong unresented.
During the last three generations the fortunes of the Carnes had beendeclining, slowly at first, and then faster and faster; and now theyfell with the final crash. The lady of high birth and great beauty hadbrought nothing else into the family, but rather had impoverished it byher settlement, and wild extravagance afterwards. Her husband MontaguCarne staved off the evil day just for the present, by raising a largesum upon second mortgage and the security of a trustful friend. But thissum was dissipated, like the rest; for the Squire, being deeply woundedby his wife's desertion, proved to the world his indifference about itby plunging into still more reckless ways. He had none to succeed him;for he vowed that the son of the adulteress--as he called her--shouldnever have Carne Castle; and his last mad act was to buy five-and-twentybarrels of powder, wherewith to blow up his ancestral home. But ere hecould accomplish that stroke of business he stumbled and fell down theold chapel steps, and was found the next morning by faithful Jeremiah,as cold as the ivy which had caught his feet, and as dead as the stoneshe would have sent to heaven.
No marvel that his son had no love for his memory, and little for theland that gave him birth. In very early days this boy had shown thathis French blood was predominant. He would bite, and kick, and scrat
ch,instead of striking, as an English child does, and he never cared fordogs or horses, neither worshipped he the gamekeeper. France was theproper land for him, as his mother always said with a sweet proud smile,and his father with a sneer, or a brief word now condemned. And Francewas the land for him (as facts ordained) to be nourished, and taught,and grown into tall manhood, and formed into the principles and habitudeand character which every nation stamps upon the nature of its members.
However, our strong point--like that of all others--is absolute freedomfrom prejudice; and the few English people who met Caryl Carne werewell pleased with his difference from themselves. Even the enlightenedfishermen, imbued with a due contempt for Crappos, felt a kindly willtowards him, and were touched by his return to a ruined home and alonely life. But the women, romantic as they ought to be, felt a tenderinterest in a young man so handsome and so unlucky, who lifted his hatto them, and paid his way.
Among the rising spirits of the place, who liked to take a largerview, on the strength of more education, than their fathers had foundconfirmed by life, Dan Tugwell was perhaps the foremost. In the presentdays he might have been a hot radical, even a socialist; but things werenot come to that pass yet among people brought up to their duty. AndDan's free sentiments had not been worked by those who make a trade ofsuch work now. So that he was pleased and respectful, instead of carpingand contradictory, when persons of higher position than his own woulddiscuss the condition of the times with him. Carne had discovered this,although as a rule he said little to his neighbours, and for reasons ofhis own he was striving to get a good hold upon this young fellow.He knew that it could not be done in a moment, nor by any commoncorruption; the mind of the youth being keen, clear-sighted, andsimple--by reason of soundness. Then Carne accidentally heard ofsomething, which encouraged and helped him in his design upon Dan.
Business was slack upon the sea just now, but unusually active uponland, a tide of gold having flowed into Springhaven, and bubbled up infrying-pans and sparkled in new bonnets. The fishing fleet had capturedthe finest French frigate--according to feminine history--that everendeavoured to capture them. After such a prisoner, let the fish gofree, till hunger should spring again in the human breast, or the partthat stands up under it. The hero of the whole (unlike most heroes) hadnot succeeded in ruining himself by his services to his country, but wasable to go about patting his pocket, with an echo in his heart, everytime it tinkled, that a quantity more to come into it was lyinglocked up in a drawer at home. These are the things that breed presenthappiness in a noble human nature, all else being either of the futureor the past; and this is the reason why gold outweighs everything thatcan be said against it.
Captain Tugwell, in his pithy style, was wont to divide all human lifeinto two distinctive tenses--the long-pipe time and the short-pipe time.The long-pipe time was of ease and leisure, comfort in the way of hotvictuals and cool pots, the stretching of legs without strain of muscle,and that ever-fresh well-spring of delight to the hard worker, thecensorial but not censorious contemplation of equally fine fellows,equally lazy, yet pegging hard, because of nothing in their pockets totap. Such were the golden periods of standing, or, still better, sittingwith his back against a tree, and a cool yard of clay between his gentlysmiling lips, shaving with his girdle-knife a cake of rich tobacco, andthen milling it complacently betwixt his horny palms, with his resoluteeyes relaxing into a gentle gaze at the labouring sea, and the part(where his supper soon would be) warming into a fine condition for it,by good-will towards all the world. As for the short-pipe times, witha bitter gale dashing the cold spray into his eyes, legs drenched withsleet, and shivering to the fork, and shoulders racked with rheumatismagainst the groaning mast, and the stump of a pipe keeping chatter withhis teeth--away with all thought of such hardship now, except what wouldserve to fatten present comfort.
But fatherly feeling and sense of right compelled Captain Zeb to checkidle enjoyment from going too far--i. e., further than himself. Everyother member of his family but himself, however good the times mightbe, must work away as hard as ever, and earn whatever victuals it shouldplease the Lord to send them. There was always a job to be found, heknew that, if a young man or maid had a mind for it; and "no silver nosupper" was the order of his house. His eldest son Dan was the first tobe driven--for a good example to the younger ones--and now he was set towork full time and overtime, upon a heavy job at Pebbleridge.
Young Daniel was not at all afraid of work, whenever there was any kindof skill to be shown, or bodily strength to be proved by it. But thepresent task was hateful to him; for any big-armed yokel, or commonwood-hewer, might have done as much as he could do, and perhaps more,at it, and could have taken the same wage over it. Mr. Coggs, ofPebbleridge, the only wheelwright within ten miles of Springhaven, hadtaken a Government contract to supply within a certain time five hundredspoke-wheels for ammunition tumbrils, and as many block-wheels for smallartillery; and to hack out these latter for better men to finish was thedaily task of Dan Tugwell.
This job swelled his muscles and enlarged his calves, and fetched awayall the fat he had been enabled to form in loftier walks of art; butthese outward improvements were made at the expense of his inner andnobler qualities. To hack and hew timber by the cubic foot, without anygrowing pleasure of proportion or design, to knit the brows hard for astruggle with knots, and smile the stern smile of destruction; andthen, after a long and rough walk in the dark--for the equinox now wasimpending--to be joked at by his father (who had lounged about allday), and have all his money told into the paternal pocket, with narrowenquiries, each Saturday night. But worst of all to know that because hewas not born with a silver spoon in his mouth, he had no heart--no heartthat he could offer where he laid it; but there it must lie, andbe trodden on in silence, while rakish-looking popinjays--But thisreflection stopped him, for it was too bitter to be thought out, andfetched down his quivering hand upon his axe. Enough that these thingsdid not tend to a healthy condition of mind, or the proper worship ofthe British Constitution. However, he was not quite a Radical yet.
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