CHAPTER TWO.
HOW I SERVED A DISORDERLY PRINTER.
My assailants were a mixed crew, some being lackeys of the half-drownedgallant, some constables of the watch, others idle swashbucklers readyto lend a hand to any cause and against any man for a pot of ale. Butthey took no advantage from hiring themselves against a poor 'prenticefrom without Temple Bar, for they got sore heads for their pains.
I myself could not do over much till my comrades arrived, for I was inan open place and could not see all sides of me at once. So, afterthree of them had gone down, I was well-nigh being mastered by the rest,but for the timely help of my honest club-fellows.
Foremost among these who should come but honest Will Peake, my lateenemy, who, when it was a matter between 'prentices and Court bullies,forgot all old sores, and laid about him like a man. Behind him came ascore or two of honest lads, some of my ward, some of others; andbetween us all you may judge if the numskulls who set upon me had amerry time of it. We left them mostly on the ground in a sorry plight,and the rest we sent packing back to them that owned them, with amessage to send a few of better mettle than they if they wanted to catchus.
Then, as the messengers did not return, we gave loud cheers for theQueen, and went each our several ways.
As for me, I was in no humour for the noisy company even of my ownfellows, and excused myself from a march home through the wards. I madea pretext to go and find my coat and cap, and let them depart withoutme.
For I was haunted yet by the memory of that fair face and the sweetmusic of her voice, and I wished to be alone.
Moreover, it vexed me grievously that any servant of so gracious a Queenas ours could be base enough to offer a helpless maiden a discourtesy,and that in chastising him I must needs put an affront on the dignity ofher Majesty's Court. But that weighed less when I remembered what I hadseen, and I would fain have had the doing of it all again, despite hergentle protest.
So I waited till the crowd was gone, and then paced, moodily enough,citywards.
But, at the entrance to the Fields, there overtook me a handful ofhorsemen, bravely equipped; amongst whom, as I looked round, I saw theauthor of all this mischief himself. His gay cloak hid the stains ofthe duck-weed, and as for his sword, he had borrowed another from one ofhis men. Mounted as he was, it was not likely he should notice a common'prentice lad like me, yet I resolved notice me he should, even if Iwent to the pillory for it.
So I stood across the way, and said:
"Farewell, brave captain. The pond will be deeper next time, andHumphrey Dexter will be there to put you in it."
He turned about, crimson in face, and cursed savagely as he saw me--forhe knew (or guessed, shrewdly enough), who I was. Then calling loudlyto his servants:
"An angel to the man who catches the knave!" cried he. "Seize him, andbring him to me."
Whereat, being only one footman to a dozen horse, I gave a clean pair ofheels.
I soon shook off my pursuers, who liked not the narrow alleys andwinding lanes of our city, where their horses stumbled and theythemselves missed their way. One only, whether from stubbornness or thehope of the angel, kept up the hue and cry, and, being mounted on animble pony, followed me close. At length it seemed shame to be runningfrom a single man; so at the next corner I turned and waited for him.He ran at me with his weapon, and called loudly on the watch to helphim, but I pulled him from his horse and had him up against the wallbefore he could cry again--yet not before he had pricked me in the armwith his blade.
He was a stout little man, and a brave one; but, by no fault of his, hewas powerless in my grip. I wrenched the sword from his hand, and heldhim by the throat till he signalled a surrender.
"Tell me first your master's name. On your knees, and with an oath,lest I find you lie," said I, in none too sweet a mood.
He had naught else he could do; so, falling on his knees, took Heaven towitness that his master's name was David Merriman, a captain in herMajesty's service; lodging now at the Court, but presently about to jointhe Queen's forces in Ireland.
That was enough for me.
"Tell Master David Merriman I shall remember his name, and bid himremember mine against we meet next--and so farewell."
I left him puffing for breath against the wall, and departed. Buthearing the watch raise a new hue and cry at my heels, I quickened mysteps, and so after many a tedious circuit, ran into my master's shopjust as he was about to bolt the door for the night.
He received me sourly, as indeed I expected.
"So," said he, "this is your faithful service which you swore to renderme; and you a parson's son, that should know what an oath is."
He was for ever taunting me with my dear father's holy calling, and itvexed me to hear it.
"I am also under oath to serve my Queen," said I, "and I put that beforeall."
"And you serve her by drunkenness, and rioting, and breaking the headsof her loyal subjects! I have heard of you this day. How comes it thatyour fellow 'prentice Peter Stoupe--"
"A plague on Peter Stoupe!" said I, for I disliked him. "And as fordrunkenness, I was never drunk in my life; nor, by my own leave, arioter."
"By whose leave, then?" asked Master Walgrave.
"By the leave of them who behave themselves as knaves," said I, gettinghot as I thought of Captain Merriman; "and had they twenty skulls, and acrown on each, I'd crack 'em."
"Had they no crowns, they would not be worth the cracking," said acheerful voice behind us; and there stood Mistress Walgrave herself."Come, husband," said she, soothingly, "be not too hard on Humphrey, heis but a lad. He serves us well most days, when the Queen is not to thefront. I warrant thee, Robert, thou wast a merry 'prentice oncethyself."
"That I never was," said Master Walgrave, with an acid face; "but get inwith you, sirrah, and to bed. I had a mind to leave you on the otherside of the door this night, to cool your hot blood." And he bolted thedoor, whilst I slunk up to my garret.
Peter Stoupe was already asleep and snoring; and as he lay clean acrossthe bed, I must needs arouse him to take his own side and make room forme.
"What, Humphrey!--I give God thanks to see thee back," said he,drowsily; "I feared something was amiss. There was a rumour that youlodged this night in Newgate."
"You listened to a lie, then," said I.
"And it is not true, is it, that you naughtily assaulted a gentleman ofthe Court?"
"And what if I did?" I demanded.
"Alas! Humphrey, think of the trouble it is like to bring on our goodmaster and mistress. Have you no thought for anyone but yourself? Yet,I give thanks thou art safe, so--far--my--good--Humpi--" and here herolled off to sleep and left me in quiet.
Yet not in peace, for I could not sleep that night for many an hour.For my life seemed to have taken a strange turn round since morning.Before to-day I had thought the 'prentice's life the merriest life inthe world. I had cared for nobody, and it had troubled me little ifnobody cared for me. Strange that now I felt like a greyhound in theleash, longing to be anywhere but where I was.
Besides, I had more solid grounds for wakefulness. However well to-dayI had given my pursuers the slip, I guessed I had not heard the last ofCaptain Merriman and his merry men. They would find me out; and I mightyet become, as Peter had said, a lodger in Newgate, and, worse thanthat, a cause of trouble and distress to good Master Walgrave and hislady.
For, however poorly I esteemed my master, I could ill afford to bringharm on his family. For my mistress was ever my champion and my friend,and her children I was wont to love as my own brothers and sisters.
So I spent half the night kicking in my bed--of which kicks Master Peterreceived his full share--and rose very early, resolved to try what hardwork could do to cure my unrest.
No one was stirring that I could hear, and I went down the stairssilently and took up my labour at the case. My stick lay on the floor,where I had dropped it the morning before, and, alack! the squabbledtype lay there too,
a sight to make a man sad. Slowly and painfully Isaved what I could, and was setting myself to make good the rest, whenmy ears caught a strange sound below my feet. It was a beating sound,followed by the dull fall of something, and, on listening, it came andwent every two or three minutes.
I had guessed more than once before now that under the house was acellar, although I had never been there, nor, indeed, knew how toapproach it. For there was no opening, front or back, to the outerworld that I knew of, and, if there at all, it must be pitch-dark andhard to breathe in. And yet the noise I now heard, if it came fromanywhere, came from below. I looked about carefully, hoping for a crackin the floor through which to solve the mystery. But crack there wasnone. Only as I looked further I saw that the reams of paper, which layusually near the press, were moved somewhat to one side. Now, as mymaster was always particular that the paper should lie always in thesame place, it seemed strange to me they should be so disturbed. But ongoing nearer I perceived the reason. For there, usually hidden to view,was now exposed a cunning trap-door, opened by a hinge and sunken ringin the boards.
Now, having found so much, it would have been out of all nature had Igone back to my work and thought no more of the matter; besides, thestrange noise still continued. I lifted the door cautiously about aninch and peeped below.
The cellar--for cellar it was--was bright with the light of a lamp, bywhich I could plainly discern my master (or, as I believed for a moment,my master's ghost), with coat off, and sweating with the heat of theplace, working like any journeyman at a printing-press, on which lay aforme of type, which he inked with his balls and struck off in printwith the noises which had perplexed me above.
Then I pulled up the trap and called out:
"Master Walgrave, spare yourself so much toil, I pray you, and let mehelp you."
He turned round, with a face the colour of dough, like a man who hadjust received an arrow in his vitals; then he rushed as if to put outthe lamp. But his presence of mind returned before he got that length,and he demanded of me angrily enough how I dared to play the spy on himand come where I was not bidden.
I replied I was no spy, and, as for coming where I was not bidden, had Iknown who it was down there I would have stayed where I was. But, beingthere, might I help him, I asked, at the work? He answered angrily,"No," and bade me begone. Whereupon I returned to my case, and waitedtill he should come up to the earth's surface.
Meanwhile I recalled not a few rumours I had heard about MasterWalgrave. One was, that, though he was only licenced to have one press,and seemed to have no more, yet (it was whispered of some), he hadanother in hiding, which now I found to be true. Moreover, as I was inStationers' Hall one day, a month or more ago, to pay the fee for aregister, I overheard Timothy Ryder the beadle and another talking aboutmy master.
"He prints more than he registers," said one.
"And he should have his ears cropped for his pains," said Timothy, "didI but know where to have him."
Then seeing that I waited (for they had forgot to give me myacquittance), they dropped talking suddenly.
By all this I guessed that my master was no favourite with them ofStationers' Hall, and, moreover, that he was addicted to disorderlypractices contrary to the Acts binding printers. But so well did hekeep his own secret, and so busy was I with my own affairs, that it allpassed from my mind, and now only returned when I saw that what had beensaid of him was true.
He came up from below presently, and I was ready for him. "Master,"said I, "I have displeased you against my will, and I have seen what youwould fain have kept a secret. You shall find it remains safe with me,for I am your 'prentice and bound to you. Therefore cheer up."
He brightened at this.
"You are a good lad," said he. "It concerns no one what I do below.'Tis an amusement of my own, no more."
As he stood there, pale and anxious, with weary eyes, it seemed to me anamusement which yielded him but little sport. However, I did notdispute the matter, and we said no more about it.
But after that day I observed that my master, although he seemed to likeme less, was more sparing of his bitter words than heretofore. WherebyI guessed plainly enough that the amusement he spoke of, were it to cometo the ears of the Master and Wardens of the Company, would get him intono little trouble.
Mistress Walgrave, his wife, as I said, was ever my good friend. Shewas no common woman, and how those two made a match of it always puzzledme. Before she came to England (so she had told me often), she lived atRochelle, in France, where her first husband was a merchant in lace.Then, when he died of the plague ten years ago, she came with her twoyoung children (the elder being but five years), to her mother's home inKent, where Robert Walgrave, being on a visit to Canterbury, met her,and offered her marriage. And in truth she had been the brightness ofhis house ever since, and her two French children, Jeannette andProsper, now tall girl and boy, lived with her, as did some three otherurchins who called Master Walgrave father. Sweet Jeannette was myfavourite; for she was lame, and had her mother's cheery smile, andthought ill of no one, least of all of me whom she called her bigcrutch, and tormented by talking French.
Many a summer afternoon, when work was slack, I carried her to thewater-side, where she might sit and watch the river flowing past. Andto reward me she made me read her about King Arthur and his knights, andstories from Mr Chaucer's book; much of which I understood not, though(being a printer's 'prentice), I knew the words.
One still evening as we sat thus, not a week after my adventure inFinsbury Fields, she broke in on my reading with--
"_Voila_, see there, Master Humphrey; _mais, comme elle est jolie_!"
"I don't know what you say, when you talk like that, mistress," said I;for I liked not the French jargon, although by dint of long suffering itI had a better guess at the meaning of it often than I cared to own.
"Look, I say," said she, "would not she be a queen of beauty for theknights of old to fight for?"
I looked where she pointed; and there, gliding within a few yards of us,passed a boat, and in it, drinking in the beauty of the evening, sat amaiden, at sight of whom I felt the blood desert my cheeks, and the handthat held the book tremble. Her old companion was beside her dozing,and the waterman lugged lazily at his oars, humming an air to himself.
Jeannette, happily, was looking not at me but at her, and so my troubledlooks escaped her.
"I never saw a face more fair," said she. "'Tis like a picture out ofMr Chaucer's book. And now that she is past, the day seems darker. Goon reading, please, kind Master Humphrey."
I tried to go on, but I blundered and lost my place, while my eyes triedto follow the boat.
Would she but have looked round! Could she but have known who it wasthat watched her! Could I myself have dared even to shout or call!
Alas! the boat glided by, and her form, stately, erect, fearless, lostitself in the distance. What dreamed she--a queen--of an uncouth London'prentice?
"Master Dexter," said Jeannette's soft voice presently, "for five wholeminutes you have been trying to read one little sentence, and it stilllacks an ending. What ails you?"
"Nothing, mistress; but I am a bad scholar and the words are hard; Ipray you forgive me. Besides it grows late. 'Tis time we went in."
So I carried her in to her mother, and then ran wildly back to theriver's edge, if by good hap I might see that lady return, or at leastcatch sight of her boat in the far distance. But I did neither. Thetide still ran out, and amongst the many boats that dotted the watercitywards who was to say which was hers?
As I returned by way of the Temple to my master's house, I met PeterStoupe, my fellow 'prentice.
"I am glad I met thee," he said. "A man came to me just now in the shopand said, 'Be you Humphrey Dexter?' I told him no, and asked him whathe wanted. He told me that was his business. I bade him wait where hewas and I would fetch you, for I had seen you go out; but he went awaygrumbling, saying he would choose his own time, n
ot mine. Alas!Humphrey, you have brought us all into sad trouble by your naughtyways."
"What trouble are you in, sirrah?" said I, wrathfully. "It matterslittle to you what comrade is laid by the heels, so that you get yourplatter full, morning and evening."
"But our good master and mistress--" he began.
But I waited not for him and went quickly home.
That night my master called me as I was going to my bed, and said,"Humphrey, there is like to be sad trouble here on your account. Awarrant, I am told, is out to seize you, you know best for what; but, ifit be true, you struck a gentleman of the Queen's household--"
"I struck a dog who affronted a defenceless maiden," said I, "and I puthim in the pond, to boot, and I care not if I go to the cage for it."
"But I care. If I harbour you here I am like to receive the punishmentwhich belongs to you. And if I give you up I lose a good 'prentice. Ican say thus much for you."
"Then," said I, not heeding his flattery, "I had better go away myself."
I never guessed he would take to this; but, to my surprise, he did.
"I and your mistress think so, too, Humphrey. Whilst the hue and crylasts you are better anywhere than here. When it has ceased, you maysafely return. Meanwhile, as fortune will have it, I can employ youstill in my service."
Then he told me how he desired to send a letter to a friend of his atOxford, which, being of the gravest importance, he wished delivered by atrusty messenger--as he took me to be. Therefore, if I was ready toforward him in the matter, I might avoid my pursuers, and do him aservice to boot.
I hailed the offer with joy and thankfulness. I longed for a changesomewhere, I cared not where, and, if skulk I must, an errand like thiswould please me vastly more than hiding for a week in my master'scellar.
"Be secret," said he (meaning, I suppose, Stoupe). "To-morrow early beready to start to Kingston, where you may get a horse. Meanwhile yourmistress is herself making you a cloak which shall be proof against allweathers. So good-night, Humphrey, and see you rouse yourself betimesin the morning."
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