The Adventures of Harry Rochester: A Tale of the Days of Marlborough and Eugene

by Herbert Strang

  *CHAPTER V*

  *A Message from the Squire*

  The Old White Hart--A Letter for the Captain--Visions--Aglionby givesInstructions--The Watch--Half-Truths--Ways and Means--Hard Thinking

  Sherebiah sat very silent for the rest of the journey. The coach joltedon rapidly towards the great city: passed the market-gardens ofHammersmith, the open fields of Kensington, along Piccadilly, where thefirst street-lamps shed a dim oily light, through Holborn, at lastpulling up at the Angel and Crown in Threadneedle Street. It was pastnine o'clock, dull and murky, and few people were about. But a smallcrowd was gathered at the door of the inn to meet the coach, andSherebiah, as he shouldered the luggage and moved towards the door, shota keen but unobtrusive glance at the faces of the men. His movementswere somewhat too slow for Harry, who, eager to ease his limbs after awhole day's stiffness and discomfort, entered the hostelry first. Allat once Sherebiah quickened his step, hastened into the lobby, set theluggage down at the foot of the stairs, and then, making a mumbledexcuse to Harry, slipped out behind one of the inn servants, and lookednarrowly at the diminishing crowd. He was just in time to see a man,whom he had already noticed on the outskirts of the group, saunter awayin the direction of London Bridge. Appearances are deceptive, andSherebiah was not sure that he was right, but he thought the man bore aresemblance to the rider whom he had seen following the coach, and ofwhom he had caught one nearer glimpse as he turned into the by-road. Hefollowed the man, stepping as quietly as his heavy shoes allowed,accommodating his pace to that of the man in front, and taking advantageof the shadow afforded by the penthouse fronts of the closed shops. Theman quickened his steps as he approached the bridge. Sherebiah pursuedhim at a discreet distance over the narrow roadway, beneath the ricketyfour-story houses that towered above the bridge over almost its entirelength, through Traitor's Gate, and on into Southwark. The man wentalong one narrow street, and at last passed under a low archway.Walking even more stealthily, Sherebiah still followed, and foundhimself in the spacious yard of the Old White Hart Inn. This famousthree-storied hostelry was built about three sides of a square. Alongtwo sides of the upper story ran a balustraded gallery, with woodenpillars supporting the sloping roof. All was quiet. Sherebiah, keepingin the shadow of the arch, peeped round and saw the man he followedstanding at the door waiting for an answer to his summons at the bell,which hung on the outer wall under a gabled cover. After a little timethe door opened and the porter appeared.

  "Be Cap'n Aglionby within?" said the man.

  "Ay, and abed and asleep. What do you want wi' him?"

  "I want to see un."

  "A pretty time o' night! House was shut up an hour ago--no businessdoin' these hard times. Why didn't you come sooner?"

  "A good reason, 'cause I be only just come to Lun'on. I has a messagefor Cap'n Aglionby."

  "Well, needs must, I s'pose," grumbled the servant. "I'll go up and wakethe captain, and be cursed horrible for my pains. Who shall I say wantshim?"

  "Tell un a friend from the country."

  The porter went into the inn, and soon reappeared in the gallery at thetop of the house, where he tapped at the door of one of the bedroomsopening from it. He tapped once, twice, thrice, and received no answer;then to his fourth knock came a response the tone of which, though notthe words, could be heard in the yard below. A colloquy ensued, ofwhich only the share of the inn servant was distinctly audible toSherebiah.

  "A man from the country, Cap'n, to see you."

  Mumble from within.

  "So I told him, but here he bides."

  More mumbling.

  "Didn't tell me his name; a man from the country was all he said, and Iknows no more."

  The answering mumble was of higher and impatient mood. Then the mancame slowly downstairs, grumbling under his breath all the way.

  "You're to go up," he said to the stranger. "'Tis number thirty-two.And fine tantrums he be in, waked out of sleep; as if I ain't waked outof sleep or kept from it day and night, and all year long."

  The man entered the inn after the servant, and began to ascend.Sherebiah meanwhile, looking around, had espied another stairway at theopposite angle of the courtyard. Darting across on tiptoe, he mountedquickly, quietly, and reached the gallery above in time to see themessenger disappear into the captain's room. He hurried along, and,relying on the porter's complaint of the paucity of business, he openedthe door of the adjacent room and slipped in, leaving the door ajar.Through the thin partition he heard the murmur of voices in the nextroom, but could not catch a word distinctly. In a few moments, however,there was a crash as of a chair being overthrown, followed by a torrentof execrations from the captain. Then the door of the next room opened,and Aglionby came out on to the gallery accompanied by his visitor.

  "Hang you and the squire too!" said the angry warrior. "The tinder'swet, and I can't light my candle. Give me the letter and I'll read itby the light of the lantern yonder, and catch my death o' cold withal."

  Shrinking back into the darkness of his room, Sherebiah caught sight ofCaptain Aglionby as he passed the half-open door on his way to thesingle lantern that feebly lit up the gallery. He had pulled on hisbreeches and stockings, but for the rest was in night attire. Thelantern swung from a hook at the corner of the gallery, three roomsbeyond that into which Sherebiah had ventured. Standing beneath it, thecaptain broke the seal of the letter given him by the visitor, and readrapidly under his breath. The reading finished, he stuffed the paperinto his pocket and chuckled.

  "Stap me, he begs and prays me now!" he exclaimed. "See, Jock, tell mewhat ye know of this. Ye ha'n't read the letter, ha' ye? By the LordHarry, I'll slit--"

  "Nay, nay, Cap'n," interrupted the man; "I know nought o' the letter.I'll tell 'ee how it all come about. I was openen the gate for Squire,when--"

  "Speak lower, man; your brazen throat'll wake the house."

  "I was openen the gate for Squire," resumed the fellow in a lower tone,which was, however, still audible to Sherebiah's straining ears, "whenwho should come by but young master popinjay dressed all in his black.He never bobbed to Squire, not he; never so much as cast eyes on un; butwhen Squire saw the young swaggerer he stopped still as a stone, andlooked after un dazed like. Then he put his arm on the gate, a' did,and leant heavy on it, thinken mortal hard; 'twas a matter o' fiveminutes afore he lifted his head again, and never seed I a stranger lookon any man's face than I seed then on Squire's. A' jumped when his eyesfell on me; 'What be staren at, fool?' says he, in one of his rages.'Shall I run for doctor?' says I; 'you do look mortal bad.' 'Nay,' sayshe, ''tis nothen; a little faintness; 'twill pass.' I touched my cap,as becomes me, and Squire went into park and shut gate behind un. But a'hadn't walked more nor three steps when a' stops, swings about, and'Jock!' says he, 'order post-horses for Hungerford road to-morrer. Andcome up to hall inside of an hour; I shall ha' a job for 'ee.'

  "Well, I went up to hall after I'd ordered horses, and Squire give methis letter. 'You'll ride to Lun'on to-morrer, and take this letter toCap'n Aglionby at White Hart, South'ark. And you'll tell the cap'nwhere young Master Rochester be stayen.' 'How'll I know that, Squire?'says I. 'Pon that he burst into one of his terr'ble rages again. 'How,fool!' says he; 'why, keep the coach in sight, and see that 'ee make nomistake.' So here I be, Cap'n, and young Master Rochester he's at Angeland Crown in Threadneedle Street."

  "Thank 'ee, Jock; I know the house. And is the young springald alone?"

  "Not he; has Sherry Minshull with un, a-carryen his belongens."

  "Zounds and thunder! did Sherry see you?"

  "No, i' feck; I kept too far from coach to be seen for sarten, and atAngel and Crown Sherry was too heavy laden to spy me."

  "Well for you, well for you! Jock, you'll come and take up yourquarters here; there's plenty of room. I'll tell 'em to gi' ye a bed."

  "What about the horse, Cap'n? I left un at Angel and Crown."

  "Let
him bide till morning; then you can bring him here too."

  "But Squire, Cap'n,--won't he expect us back, me and horse?"

  "Not he; 'tis here written; I'm to keep you if there's any work for you,and odzooks! I'll ha' some work for you, never fear. Jock, if yourstory has made you as dry as it has made me you're main thirsty; go downand bring up beer for two, and a lighted candle. I'll ring and wakethat rascal by the time you get to the foot of the stairs."

  The man went down by the way he had come, and the captain returned tohis room. As soon as the coast was clear, Sherebiah slipped out intothe gallery, carrying his shoes to avoid noise, ran down the outerstaircase, stood for a few moments at the foot to make sure that all wassafe, then darted across the yard and out at the gate. The street wasquite deserted, and Sherebiah, secure from molestation, walked slowlyalong towards London Bridge, deep in thought. His friend Harry had beenfollowed to London at the orders of the squire; what was the meaning ofthat? Surely Mr. Berkeley did not intend to wreak vengeance on the sonfor the baffled opposition of the father? What had Captain Aglionby todo with the matter? Rumour the omniscient had informed the village thatthe captain's departure had been occasioned by a violent quarrel withthe squire; yet it was plain that the squire knew the captain'swhereabouts and was enlisting his aid in some project. Sherebiah wishedthat he could get a sight of Mr. Berkeley's letter; he was puzzled toaccount for the old man's shock as Harry passed the gate; but try as hemight to piece these strange circumstances together, all his cogitationsuggested no clue.

  So absorbed was he, so mechanical his movements, that he startedconvulsively when, just as he had passed through Traitor's Gate, a manstepped suddenly before him from a narrow entry and bade him stop in theQueen's name. Looking up, he saw that his way was barred by a corpulentconstable in cocked hat and laced coat, with a staff two feet longerthan himself, and half a dozen ancient and decrepit watchmen withlanterns and staves.

  "Stand!" cried the constable. "Give an account of yourself."

  Sherebiah took his measure.

  "Not so, neither, master constable. Out o' my way; 'tis a late hour,and I ought to be abed."

  He made to move on, but the constable stood full in his path, and thewatchmen grouped themselves behind their superior.

  "You may be a villain for aught I know," said the constable, "or even avagrom or thief. Why abroad at this hour o' night?"

  "I'm as sober as a judge," replied Sherebiah, "and neither thief norvagrom. Stand aside, master constable."

  "Well, 'tis dry and thirsty work watching o' nights, and there be sevenof us, and a shilling don't go far in these war times; we'll take ashilling to let ye pass; eh, men?"

  The watchmen mumbled assent. Sherebiah laughed.

  "A shilling? 'Tis a free country, master constable, and a sobercountryman don't carry shillings to buy what's his. And seems to me, soit does, as ye've had drink enough a'ready; out o' my way, I say!"

  "Arrest him, men!" cried the constable, angry at being disappointed ofhis expected tip.

  The words were scarcely out of his mouth when with sudden energySherebiah threw himself against him, at the same time placing a legbehind his knee. As the constable fell, Sherebiah dashed at thewatchmen, toppled two of them over, their fall being accompanied by thecrash of their lanterns, scattered the rest, and ran rapidly across thebridge. This unexpected onset from one whom they had taken for a simpleand timid country bumpkin was too much for the watch. They made noattempt to pursue the fugitive, but returned surly and crestfallen totheir lair.

  "Where on earth have you been, Sherry?" asked Harry, as his manre-entered the inn.

  "Payen a visit to a cousin o' mine, Master Harry. And I was nigh put inlock-up, I was. Was stopped by the watch, but I toppled un over, I did.I'm a man o' peace."

  "If you are let alone," said Harry, laughing. "I feared some harm hadhappened to you. Our Dutch friend tells me London is an ill place atnight for a stranger."

  "Ay, and by day too, Master Harry," rejoined Sherebiah earnestly. "If Imed make so bold, I'd say, get 'ee to-morrow a good cane,--none of yourlittle small amber-tipt fancies as fine gentlemen swing in their daintyfingers, but a stout length of oak or birch, fit to crack a pate."

  "I have a sword, Sherry, and can use it, thanks to you."

  "Ay, but 'tis not always easy to draw a sword in time in a street brawl,and there be light-fingered gentry as can coax a sword from the scabbardand the wearer none the wiser till it be too late. Be it your poorfeyther's sword you ha' brought, sir?"

  "Yes, the silver-hilted one; I showed it you once, Sherry."

  "Well, 'tis right for a gentleman to wear a sword, though I marvel, Ido, at a holy man o' peace like pa'son haven such a deadly piece o'furniture."

  "Ay, and I've often wondered how a man of peace like yourself is able tohandle a sword so well. You made a swordsman of me, Sherry; how did youbecome one yourself?"

  "Ah, sir, 'tis a many things a man o' peace has to know in the way o'dressens. I believe in peace with a cudgel in your hand. Them as wantspeace be most like to get it an they be ready for war."

  "You remind me of what Master Butler says:

  'There's but the twinkling of a star Betwixt the man of peace and war'.

  But the hour is late, Sherry, and I must be up betimes in the morning,for my visit to Lord Godolphin."

  "You bean't gwine to see the high lard to-morrer, sir? Better larn tofind your way about this tangle o' busy streets first. 'Tis as easy assucken eggs to lose your way."

  "I have made up my mind to go to-morrow. You see, I must lose no time.I have only twenty guineas, as you know, and by to-morrow two of thosewill be gone. And I sha'n't rest till I have tried my luck.Good-night, Sherry! Wake me at seven."

  Left to himself, Sherebiah ordered a pint of small beer, and sat for anhour longer, ruminating, with knit brows and compressed lips. More thanonce he got up and walked round the deal table, stopping to take a pullat the tankard, heaving a sigh, then going on again. He was disquieted.The sudden discovery that the squire's animosity was pursuing Harry noless perplexed than disturbed him. Harry and Mr. Berkeley had never metat close quarters; there had been no intercourse between hall andparsonage. A personal cause of offence was, as it seemed to Sherebiah,out of the question; yet it was strange that the squire's hatred of thefather should extend to the son. At length, muttering "No one can tellwhat's what with the likes o' old Squire," Sherebiah brought his bigfist down on to the table with a bang that made the pewter jump andrattle, and fetched the drawer from his place in the bar.

  "What d'ye lack?" said the man.

  "Nothen, sonny, nothen. 'Tis a way o' mine to hit out when I bea-thinken, a bold way for a man o' peace, true. Bacon at half arterseven, drawer,--and we be country eaters, mind 'ee. Good-night!"