Prentice Hugh

by Frances Mary Peard

thank Heaven! And the master has gone off to see if perchancethere might be some hut or cottage near where we can get lodging for thenight and means of reaching Exeter."

  "Father, you must be spent. Think no more of me. Sit by the fire, andtake off your clothes to dry."

  Hugh was almost himself again, although evidently deeply shocked at thedeath of Jakes, and with the burden on him of remorse for unkindthoughts which is hard to bear. But fire and food comforted them all insome measure, and Andrew came back before long to tell them that he hadbeen lucky enough to reach a serf's hut not far away, where they couldat least find shelter, with hope of a horse.

  "You have done everything for us, and have lost more than any," saidBassett, gratefully.

  "Nay, I know not what I have lost yet," returned the sailor. "The balesof silk and woollen are spoiled; no hope for them. But maybe, if thegale goes down, I may have my boat again. I can put up with the rest."

  When they had rested awhile they made their way up through a sort ofgully piercing the red cliffs. This same redstone amazed Hugh, for thepools of rain were crimson to look at, and he had never seen anythinglike it before. But glad enough he was to turn his back on the wildsea.

  "I hate it! I would I might never see it again."

  "Thou wouldst be a poor crusader," panted Stephen, whose breath wassorely tried by the ascent.

  They stumbled on through tussocks of grass until they reached the top,where trees grew thickly, though somewhat one-sided and windblown withsouth-west gales. Andrew was not with them, but he had directed themfully, and they soon came upon a rough hovel, built of a mixture of mudand straw called cob, and coarsely thatched. A wild-looking herd and awilder-looking woman stared at them from the doorway; but though uncouththey were not unkindly, and had got a fire of logs burning, togetherwith bread and bacon and a large tankard of cider on the table.

  As usual, the monkey caused the greatest astonishment, and Hugh darednot loosen his hold of him because of a sheep-dog, who growled angrilyat the strange party. The other sailors were already there, eating anddrinking and drying their clothes, and presently Andrew came in. He wasvery short and surly with the men, though, as he told Stephenafterwards, unable to cast them off altogether, as he would willinglyhave done, because, if there were a chance of saving the boat, he wouldneed their help in getting her off and in sailing her. All dependedupon the abatement of the gale. If the wind went down with the tidethere was a chance of floating her in calmer weather and of repairingdamages. She was strongly built, and, so far, showed no signs ofbreaking up.

  To Hugh's eyes his father seemed scarcely worse or more feeble than hehad often been before. He was very pale it is true, his breathing waslaboured, and he had a short, sharp cough, which scarcely ceased; but hewas keen to push on, and would not rest until he had urged the herd togo that evening to the sheep-farm where he worked, and where he thoughta horse might be bought. They were, as Stephen ascertained, not morethan fifteen or sixteen miles from Exeter, the spot where they werewrecked being a little north of the mouth of the Teign; and this he wasfeverishly anxious to declare they could ride in a day. A strong horsecould easily carry two; it was madness for him to think of remainingwhere he was for rest, since if he became worse there was no means ofprocuring a leech.

  "E'en go thy way," said Andrew, half angrily, half sadly, for he haddone enough for his passengers to feel a sincere liking for them.

  The hut, as usual, consisted of but one smoky room, in which they allbestowed themselves for the night. Andrew saw that Stephen had the bestof the miserable accommodation; but little rest came to him owing to theconstant torment of his cough, and he was up as soon as the sailor andout in the air, though not strong enough to go down to the cove. Butwhat a change was there since the former night! The wind had shifted tothe south-west, and blew as softly as if it had never known violence.The sun, though not yet showing much face through misty grey clouds,filled the air with delightful promise. All the land colouring was richand varied, for the trees, though shaken by the past storm, were intheir fullest and most gorgeous autumnal colouring, and the deep red ofthe soil, the vivid green of the grass, and the brown of the brackenmade a splendid harmony of tint.

  The sailors followed the master to the cove; the herd went off to hiswork, promising that the horse should come when the morning was a littleadvanced, after the nine o'clock dinner; the wife made much of Hugh; andStephen, looking and feeling wretchedly ill, tried to wear off hisrestlessness by wandering towards the edge of the cliff, but hisstrength giving out he was forced to crawl back and sit quiet. Thehorse arrived, and proved a strong, serviceable beast.

  Stephen could scarce touch the coarse food, being too feverish. Andrewcame up quite hopeful, and laden with the carver's tools and otherpossessions, which, though somewhat marred by the salt water, he wasthankful to see again. The woman of the house dried the clothes; allthe gear was securely strapped on the horse, and then came thefarewells. The master would not consent to receive a penny for the costof the voyage.

  "Nay," he said, "we feasted on the grey brothers' good cheer, and, by mytroth, I shall never have the heart to call it a drones' hive again.One of these days Moll and I will go and have speech with Friar Luke,and let him know what befell. Nay, I tell you, I can be obstinate too,though with no hope of evening thy powers in that matter. Wonderful itis that so little mischief has been done with all that turmoil; if thepoor fool Jakes had but stayed on board he would have saved his skin."

  "Have a mass said for his soul," said Stephen, pressing a little moneyinto his hand. "Nay, thou must not refuse, it is conscience money."

  "Well, it shall go to the grey brothers," said Andrew, who seemed tolimit his new-born tolerance to the one monastery. "Hearken, Hugh, ifthy father is spent, get him to stop for a night on the road. Some dayI shall come to see thee at Exeter."

  The kind-hearted sailor stood watching the pair when they had started,Stephen riding, Hugh stepping manfully through the bracken, and bothturning back and waving their hands until they were lost in the thicketof underwood through which they had to pass before reaching the road.

  Road, indeed, it could scarce be called, for at this season the bestwere in some places nigh impassable, and Devonshire mud when it is leftto follow its own will cannot easily be beaten. In sortie parts theroad was little more than a channel worn by constant running of water,and leaving banks on either side; and, owing to the rain of the daybefore, the water flowed down these banks in little runnels, and rushedcheerfully along the course at the foot. Hugh, however, found itamusing enough to splash through these streams, or to leap from bank tobank, and clamber along through ivy and long grasses and briars andnut-bushes; such a thicket of greenery as he had never seen before.When he was tired he would scramble up behind his father, the stout greymaking light of his double burden; and he was untroubled by Stephen'sanxiety lest these narrow lanes should offer opportunity for thieves andoutlaws.

  They met no such dangerous folk. A ploughman passed and lookedcuriously at them, and a priest carrying a staff, and on his way to asick parishioner, stopped and inquired whither they were bound.Bassett's evident illness made the good man uneasy, and he would havehad him rest at his house until better able to go on; indeed, pressed iton him. The carver shook his head.

  "I thank you heartily, sir priest, but I must push on, having, as youmay judge, but little time before me. If, of your courtesy, you willpoint out the shortest and safest road, you will be doing us akindness."

  The old man, who had a very pleasant and earnest face, assured him that,so far as he could tell, the country for some miles round was tolerablyfree from rogues, though he could not answer for the neighbourhood ofExeter. He himself went a little way with them, and directed them theshortest path along the rocks, where the sea stretched on one side,softly grey, and only a little stirred with remembrance of yesterday'sgale, and pointed out Exmouth, which he said had an ill character forpirates, and then showed them the Exe stretching awa
y, and told them howthey should leave it on their right and take the inland road, and soleft them with his blessing.

  It was all that Stephen could do to hide his increasing weakness fromHugh. There were times when he felt that he must give it all up, dropfrom the horse, and let himself die by the road-side. Only a willstrong for his boy's sake could have given him strength to sit upright.When they paused at a little hostelry for some food he did not dare getoff his horse, fearing that he might lack the resolution to mount again.His suffering became so acute that he could not hide it from Hugh, andthough the boy dreaded nothing worse than one of those sharp fits ofillness which his father had weathered before, he did his best to inducehim to seek a night's lodging on the road. But Stephen refused almostirritably.

  Nor could he bear to follow where Hugh's remorse would have led