CHAPTER XLI.
A DISCOURSE WITH MY NEW-FOUND FRIEND MATTHEW PENNYFARDEN.
When we got to the foot of the stairs my comrade put out the light, andI, laying my hand on his shoulder, as he bade me, followed softly at hisheels in the dark for some paces, when we came to a door that stoodajar. Here he paused and peered out carefully; then, pushing the dooropen, he passed out into the open.
He gave me the bag of food to hold, lifted up his finger as a sign to meto wait there, and then entered the tower again by another door in thatpart where the guard lay; and so I stood, with the drawn knife in myhand and my eyes on the lookout for a foe, till he returned with a swordin each hand and a knife stuck in his belt. He seemed to have been gonean age, but I believe he was no more than ten minutes at the outside;but I was consumed with impatience.
He put one of the swords in my hand, and signed to me to follow. Then wethreaded our way betwixt the tower and the huts, and coming to the endof a little alley he again peers out into the space beyond, first to theright and then to the left, very carefully, and seeing no one (for thePortugals here lay within doors because there was no turf, as in theother stations, but only hard, rocky ground), he nudged me with hiselbow and struck out pretty briskly to the gate he had previously setajar, which we passed, and so got out without discovery, to our greatcomfort.
Our road lay up the hills on the other side of the valley, and a roughand troublesome way it was by reason of the loose stones and deep holeswhich in certain parts, where the rocks shut out the light of the starson either hand, were like so many pitfalls. Yet I was too light of heartto heed the bruising of my shins a farthing, though my comrade did curseprodigiously, spite of his saying he would not speak for a league, as Ihave told.
When we had gone about an hour, my comrade, as I call him, after comingnigh to break his neck over a rock, sits him down on a rock, saying wemight now well afford to fetch our breath and rub our shins for a space.So now, sitting down beside him, I begged he would loose his tongue tosatisfy my earnest anxiety.
"Well," says he with a sigh, "I am not used to this business, and 'tis along story. Howsomever, as you desire it, here goes. My name is MatthewPennyfarden, and I was born in the village of Newlyn, near Penzance, inCornwall, in the year of our Lord one thousand five hundred andninety-four."
"Nay," says I, "you may skip thirty-three years of your adventures, andcome to what took place when, you first saw my cousin, Lady Biddy Fane."
"Lord love you, master," says he, "that simplifies the job vastly" (hewas a sly rogue of some humor). "Well, then, you must know that when Icame to the station yesterday afternoon with four other slaves, burdenedwith gold muck from that part of the valley where the mines lie, ourfactor tells me that the merchant Senhor de Pino would speak with me;whereupon I goes to the factor's office with him, and there De Pino asksme if I could write English and would earn a jar of wine; to which Imade reply that I could do the one as readily as I would the other,seeing I was two years an attorney's clerk before I was so foolish as toquit my employ and run away to sea, and was now as dry as any limekiln.On this he sets me down before a table, with an inkhorn and a sheet ofpaper for my work, and tells me in his own tongue what he would havewrit in mine. When I had done this, he goes over the writing with me adozen times, questioning as to this word and doubting as to that,scratching out here and writing in there, till we could find no furtherroom for improvement, when he gives me a fresh sheet of paper and has itall writ out again for fair. So, having come to an end of the business,he orders the factor to give me a jar of wine, as he had promised, andsend me back to the mine. Now a man can not serve the devil withoutlearning the smell of brimstone, and I had been long enough with myattorney to get a pretty keen scent for mischief; wherefore, as I wentback to my accursed mine, turning this affair over in my mind, I came toa pretty fair understanding of what lay at the bottom of thisletter-writing. Yet, to make sure, I turns out of my way (being alone,for the rest had gone back with their empty baskets while I was writingthe letter)--I goes about, I say, to sneak up among the rocks to where Icould get a fair view of the station without being seen. There I hadjust posted myself when I see the Portugals bearing a man tied up neckand crop to the guardhouse, and says I to myself, 'That's CousinPengilly, or I'm a Dutchman.' When you were clapped up and the Portugalshad come back from the guardhouse, the mules were brought out andpacked, and one part of the train was sent on, while the other waited inreadiness to start, which perplexed me somewhat till ten minutes later,when a female was led out by De Pino and seated on a mule, and that partof the cavalcade set out pretty briskly, as if to overtake the other.Then I hit upon it that De Pino had practiced this stratagem to makeyour cousin believe you had gone on first, and hasten her departure fromthe station. But I pray you, master," says he, breaking off and openingthe bag of victuals, "do pick a bit, for I warrant you have had nothingbetwixt your lips since you was clapped up--have you, now?"
"You are right," says I, falling to with a relish; "but go on."
"Ay," says he, "I guessed as much. They served me that same way when Ifirst came into captivity, starving me till I was too weak to makeresistance, and glad enough to accept the work of a slave that I mightfill my belly. And surely that was the fate they intended for you. Andthis did put me in mind not to touch a drop of the wine, lest a tastemight tempt me to drink all, but to leave it hid up in that rock and goback to my work dry, and also to set aside my supper when it was servedout to us at sunset."
"Good Heavens!" I exclaimed, "no wonder you drank so heartily when wewere in the tower."
"Ay," says he, "I overcame the flesh as long as I could, but I couldhold out no longer."
"And you have fasted full as long as I have, by the same token," says I.
"You've hit it again," says he; "but that did not call for such courageas t'other, for I would rather fast a whole day than go dry an hour."
This fellow's generosity touched my heart, and I would not eat anothermorsel, nor let him speak, till he had eaten his fair share of the food.And now I saw why he had been so loth to begin a long history with thebag of victuals untouched.
When we had come to the end of our meal, my comrade proposed we shouldmove on; "for," says he, "I care not how I knock my ribs against therock now that I have something within me to resist the shock."
When we had got on our way again, and were come to a fairly level partof the road where we could converse without inconvenience, I asked mycomrade if there was any truth in that letter concerning soldiery beingsent by Dom Sebastian to recover us.
"Lord love you!" says he, "not a word; 'twas all a plan of De Pino'sinvention. But tell me, master, how you came to fall into the hands ofsuch a villain."
When I told him briefly my history, he considers awhile, and then sayshe:
"You have naught to fear from Sebastian; for though he is as treacherousas any other Portugal, and not one of them is a true man, yet have theserogues a certain kind of fair dealing amongst themselves, and havingsold you to De Pino he would not go back on his bargain, thoughRodrigues should offer twice as much to get you back as Dom Sebastianreceived for parting with you."
"Then," says I, "you believe Dom Sebastian sold us to De Pino?"
"I am as certain of that as I am that De Pino sold you to our factor."
"And how are you certain of that, my friend?" says I.
"Because he did not stick his dagger into you when you were asleep. Butfor his avarice, you would not be alive now, you may be sure. A prettytaking our factor will be in when we find you flown; 'tis as good astwenty pieces of eight out of his pocket. We must look to it, master,that he doesn't catch us, for certain it is he will hunt us."
"What would he do if he caught us?"
"You might get off with a flogging and a pretty long spell ofstarvation; but he'd flea me, as he has before; and once is enough for alifetime, as you would agree if you knew what it was like."
"You have spoken before of this fleaing," says I; "what do you mean?
"
"If there was light I would show you my back for a sign. I've had apiece of skin stripped off my body an ell long and an inch wide."
"Good God!" says I, "is such barbarity possible?"
"Ay," says he, "and worse. I'll be fleaed rather than have the soles ofmy feet roasted if he gives me my choice."
Only to hear of this wickedness made me sick, and I could say nothingfor some minutes.
"Tell me, Matthew," says I, when I had got over my qualm, "why yourisked such a fearful punishment to liberate a man you had never seen?"
"Because you was an Englishman," says he stoutly. "Lord love you,master, I knew I should find you a true man and a kind friend."
"But," says I, "couldn't you as well have made your escape without me aswith me?"
"No," says he, "for I'd as leave hang myself on a tree ere I started asbe brought to that end by the misery of wandering alone in the woods.Look you, master, afore you go any further," stopping me, "there's timeto get back to the station, and return to the guardhouse, while thePortugals are still in a log-sleep, and I would have you understand whatescape means. It means hardships, and suffering, and solitude. Wedaren't go near a town, for fear of the Portugals; and we daren't gonear the Indian villages, for every white man is hated by them, with avery good reason. There's fleaing on one hand, and death on the other;and we've got to live betwixt 'em as best we may. Take time forreflection and choose without concern for me."
"Nay," says I, "it needs no reflection to choose between freedom andslavery"; and taking him by the hand, I drew him onwards.
"You are an Englishman, master, and I love you," says he, "and I shalllove you still more when your hair grows a bit, and you look less like aPortugal; for I do loathe the very resemblance of those accursed men."
"Surely," says I, "there must be some good men amongst them?"
"Not to my knowledge," says he. "There was one that I thought a decentsort of a fellow; and he grumbling every day to me of his estate, whichwas little better than a slave's, I opened to him a design for escapingtogether. He betrayed me; for he was naught but a spy set to thatpurpose by our factor, who would test me. And so I got fleaed fortrusting a Portugal; but I trust none henceforth. As for that," adds he,"we shall have no need to trust 'em, for we two shall be company enoughfor each other, I warrant."
"We two?" says I; "nay, we shall be three."
"As how?" says he.
"Why," says I, "are we not on our road to rescue my cousin from thehands of Lewis de Pino?"
"No," says he, stopping again; "that are we not. For we're giving DePino as wide a berth as I can contrive. Our factor will set out on thatpath as soon as he finds you flown."
"Friend," says I, "'tis for you to choose betwixt going on with me tothe rescue of my cousin or taking me back to the station."
He tilted his hat forwards, and, scratching his head, was silent aminute; then, in a grumbling kind of voice, he says:
"What a plague do we want with a female?"
"Would you suffer her to go into slavery?" says I.
"They like it," says he sullenly. "Not at first, but after a bit. She'llbe treated well, and I count she won't thank you from taking her awayfrom a fine house and rich gowns to wander about in the woods without aroof to her head or a whole rag to her back."
"Nor matter for that," says I; "she shall be taken out of the Portugal'shands if I live."
"Well," says he, a little more cheerfully, "if it is to rob thePortugal, I shall be less loth; and to oblige you, more willing. We mustturn back, howsomever, to those horrid rocks again."
We turned about, and retraced our steps in silence for a while.
"Don't take it amiss, master," says he presently, "if I'm a little bitdownhearted at the prospect of having a lady's society; but I've had somuch of that sort of thing these last ten years that I shouldn't besorry if I never saw another female."
"How's that?" says I.
"Why, master," says he, "I'm married."
"And you can quit your wife without regret?" says I.
"It ain't a wife I'm quitting without regret," says he; "it's twenty orthirty."
I asked him to explain this matter; which he did forthwith, telling methat all the slaves in those mines were women, and that when one woundedherself, or fell sick by overwork, so that to save her life it wasnecessary she should lay up for a time, she was forthwith married tohim. This strange custom perplexed me until I came to perceive themotive.
"Have you any children?" says I.
"Children!" says he; "Lord love you, I've got sixty if I've got one. Butyou can't expect a father to be very partial to his children when thereso many of 'em. I give you my word, I don't know Jack from Jill; andthey're all orange-tawney."
The Admirable Lady Biddy Fane Page 41