CHAPTER XXI
There is no need for me to make a long story of how I fared across thefen to Messic Mere, and, borrowing a punt belonging to Hollings(without the owner's leave, not daring to show myself), poled up theriver Torne to within half a mile of Wroot, and then struck northwardover the quaking bog to Lindholme. I missed the right turn more thanonce, and had some pretty tough work to do in getting on the trackagain, and some narrow escapes from hidden pools and mire-pits; but Ireached Lindholme before darkness fell.
It is an island of gravelly limestone, surrounded by a sea of bog, softas sponge and full of water, on which I should not have ventured,although I knew the course to take, but for my present peril. For ninemonths of the year, Lindholme was then as much cut off from the rest ofthe world as if it had been a lonely rock in mid-ocean, for ever beatenby stormy waves. In the winter it was accessible by flat-bottomedboats, and during a hard frost one might walk over, or go on skates.The islet is about three-quarters of a mile long and an eighth of amile wide. Toward the northern end it rises into a small hill, nearthe foot of which there is a spring of clear, sweet water. How itcomes to pass that there is such a spring, when all the water in thebog around it is as brown as October ale, I do not understand. At thetime of which I write, a grove of oaks grew north of the hill, and apretty thick plantation of willows and alders occupied the southerntongue of the island. The hermit inhabited a stud-bound house withthree rooms, roughly but curiously furnished. A little way off stood arow of buildings--three low hovels of stone and half a dozen woodenhuts of different sizes. Here lived the hermit's servants--a man andhis wife and their son, a big lad of sixteen or seventeen years of age.Here, too, were kept the hermit's farm-stock--a small bull and fourcows, a dozen sheep, and a large number of poultry.
Bland, or rather his man and boy, cultivated abut one half of the soilof his domain with plough and spade, getting amazingly heavy crops ofcorn and pulse.
The hermit was of middle stature, perhaps five feet eight inches,strongly built, not remarkable but for his face, which was strangelyirregular, as though it had not been finished in the making. His nosewas not to be described as Roman, or aquiline, or by any term commonlyused in speaking of that feature. A child might make one like it inmodelling a face in clay. His mouth was large, the lower lip hanging.The eyebrows projected far over his eyes, which had a peculiar look,due, as one found on close observation, to the fact that the pupil ofone was of a bluish grey and that of the other almost black. Hisabundant dark hair and great beard were streaked with silver.
Rumour assigned various causes for his lonely life, as that he had beencrossed in love; that he had been betrayed by a friend; that he hadsold himself to the devil. I had made acquaintance with him on MessicMere one day, when we happened to meet as both of us were fishing forpike, and we fell into anglers' talk. He asked me to his house,promising me rare sport in fowling, and he made good his word during aweek which I spent with him. We were much too busy by day, andsometimes by night, for discourse on anything but our sport, and, whennot so engaged, we were too sleepy for conversation, so I knew no moreof him than that he was an accomplished sportsman, and, as one saw byhis fields and barn and stacks and livestock, a good farmer, though hisway of doing things was new and strange to me.
As I now drew near the hermitage, the dogs rushed out, a mastiff and anondescript more like a lurcher than any breed I knew. At first, theycame on furiously, but quickly knew me and changed their fierceness forwelcoming bark. Bland came to his door, seeming surprised by theirfriendliness to a stranger, but he too knew me as soon as I spoke, andreceived me with all kindness. He looked with some curiosity at myplaistered face and marshman's attire, but he asked no question, makingme welcome to share his evening meal. I judged it best to tell him Ihad fled from pursuit, and that a price was set on my head, and a banlaid on any one who might aid and harbour me. He laughed a loud, sharplaugh, which scarcely changed his countenance.
"You are none the less welcome for all that," said he. "Here we defythe mad world's law. Eat your supper, and afterwards you shall tell meas much as you choose."
When my host had heard the reason of my flight, he again assured me ofmy welcome.
"Stay with me as long as suits you--the longer the better, so far as Iam concerned. Now that our work of harvesting is over, I am free toenjoy myself in your company all day long, and what sport Lindholme cangive you already know."
Thanking my cordial host, I settled down to life in Lindholme, until itmight be possible to make a dash for freedom and safety abroad.
On the Wednesday, Bland would not hear of my venturing to Messic Mere,as I had engaged to do, but he went himself and brought John Drury toLindholme, and conducted him to the Mere again in the evening.
John gave me the comforting news that my lady and her father had gotaway to sea without let or hindrance. Mr. Ulceby sent me word that hewould have a vessel of some sort ready to convey me to Holland,whenever it might be prudent for me to try to leave England. Johnfeared that it would be long before I might do so, for heaven and earthwould be moved to secure my capture, and he highly commended the wisdomof my host in disallowing me to leave my retreat. He thought it morethan likely Boswell might have spied on me and guessed my destination.
"If so," he added, "the fellow will keep the knowledge to himself,until he gives up hope of taking you single-handed. He will endeavourso to do, rather than share the reward with others. Remember the offeris equal for taking you 'dead or alive!' So prithee be on thy guard,my friend."
Some of the earl's officers had visited Belshaw, but could not learnanything from the women, and John's cousin knew nothing.
John had called at the Crowle vicarage to assure my aunt I was in nopresent danger. There he heard news of Dick Portington, who had beento London and the Bath with Ryther and his daughter for some time; andit was commonly reported that Dick and Mistress Ryther were to bemarried at Christmas. So it was not probable that Dick and I should beon the old terms of close friendship any more.
We had some talk of the defeat of King Christian at Lutter, of whichJohn had heard in Hull, and of the purpose of King Charles to enroll abody of volunteers to go to the assistance of his uncle and the causeof Protestantism.
"If we could but smuggle you out of the Isle," said John, "here mightbe an opening for you."
But of smuggling me away there seemed to be no chance just now. Afterwe had agreed on a plan of communication, John returned, and I resignedmyself with such composure as I could muster to a sojourn at Lindholmefor an uncertain time, which I must pass as best I could.
There was certainly plenty of such diversion as fowling affords, for atthat time the birds were more abundant all over the Isle than in thesedays, and round about Lindholme more numerous than anywhere else, butdifficult to come by on account of the rottenness of the bog and theheight and thickness of the reeds. I have seen the surface of theground for a couple of roods blackened with brent geese, when it wasimpossible to get within shot of them, and though flocks of hoopers(which some call whistling swans) came to feed every evening of my stayat Lindholme, returning to the seashore every morning, the only mannerof getting a shot was to find some spot beneath their line of flight,where the ground would bear a man's weight, and there was cover inwhich to hide, and such spots were bad to find. We often heard thedunbirds (redheads, our marshmen call them) working all night withinhalf a mile of us, and might have had good sport, if we could have gotnear to them in the morning twilight, when they head up together readyto fly to their day quarters; but that could only be done when rain hadfallen so heavily that there was water sufficient to float a punt. So,though game was plentiful, there was occasion for judgment and skill intaking it, which gave zest to our diversion, and the hermit and I spentmost of the day in the open air, sometimes venturing on to the bogwhere he had not dared to go alone. Of an evening we sat over the fireawhile, he smoking his pipe and often drinking rather freely ofbrandy-wine, until such time a
s he thought good to climb into hishammock in the inmost room. At such times he talked very strangely,when he had loosened his tongue by drinking, and one of his themes wasthe madness of the world.
"'Tis a mad world, Mr. Vavasour," he would say, "consider it how youwill. The desires and pursuits of ninety-nine out of a hundred men areso lunatical that we should die of laughing at one another, if we werenot all mad together. One man sets his heart on acquiring twentythousand pounds; he might just as wisely toil to accumulate twentythousand red pebbles. Nay, that would be better, for he might heap uphis pebbles without lying and cheating or harm to any of hisneighbours. He gets no more good of his pounds than if they werepebbles, unless you can reckon the envy of his equally foolishassociates as an advantage. He eats no better than I, sleeps nobetter, has no enjoyment which is not mine, and at last he dies,leaving his pebbles--his pounds I mean--to be the subject ofheart-burning and wrangling among his heirs. Another idiot is bent onlearning, which means that he loads his memory with a pack of stuffwhich is mainly false, and none of it of use for any conceivablepurpose. He reads what was written ages ago by the flatterers of someman called great, or by those who took pleasure in defaming him, or bythose who were too cross and stupid to understand him. He reads ofprodigies which never happened, of monsters which never existed,speeches which were never spoken, accounts of battles derived frompersons who did not see them. He is crammed with idle tales and fondinventions; and other men, addicted to the same follies, give him acloak and a cap, and call him doctor. And the most outrageous part ofthe farce is that the men who are appointed to teach poor folk to bechaste and just and kind, are required to be well versed in tales aboutgods and goddesses, which are so full of impurity and wickedness thatno one would dare to English them for the reading of the common people.'Tis a mad world."
Thus he would go on by the hour when the humour took him, and had itall his own way with me, for if I put in a word of objection, heoverwhelmed me with a torrent of eloquence, or nimbly skipped off insome new direction.
One evening he strove to show me that Daft Jack was the sanest man inour part of the world.
"He is free from the madness of gathering money, being content to liveas the birds and beasts do, without care for the morrow, as yourreligion bids you to live. He has no wish to be talked about after heis dead and buried, which madmen dignify by calling it desire for fame.He has not racked his brain over books filled with lies and vainimaginations; but he knows the whereabout and the ways of fish andfowl, and how to find and use every herb and root which is good forfood. His bit of orchard is well kept and tilled, and if you were toput him down in any quarter of the world, he would know how to get aliving. And to crown all, he accepts without murmur the name of fool,which madmen give him."
"Not quite so," I interjected, remembering what the high and mightyTunstall had to suffer through calling him so. This led to my tellingthe story, which provoked the hermit to one of his queer fits oflaughter--laughter which did not pucker his face or show in his eyes,but came from his throat like the noise from a gun.
A few days later, my host spoke freely of his own history, telling methat his relatives had obtained possession of his estate on theallegation of his lunacy, and had attempted to shut him up in a bedlam.He had contrived to effect his escape with money, which sufficed tostock his farm in a small way; but he had long lived in fear of beingseized and carried off to a madhouse. Now he had lost the fear, havingbeen unmolested for some years. So, at least, he said; but from thevehemence with which he spoke of the matter, and from some of hisactions, I doubted whether his assurance was as perfect as he affirmed.He sometimes made the round of the island at night, gun in hand,preferring to go alone, and on his return, he looked with greatcarefulness to the bolts and bars of the door. That he should havesuch fastenings in a place so remote and inaccessible had appearedstrange to me, but at first I set it down to force of habit.
Of the other denizens of the islet I saw little. The man was a sturdyfellow of a hangdog look, and spoke mumblingly, so that I could notmake out one word in a dozen. The woman was of appalling ugliness, andso unwomanlike as never to speak except when spoken to, and not alwaysthen. Their son combined the qualities of sire and dam, a lout soclumsy and hideous that he seemed hardly human, but of immense bodilystrength. All three gave a sullen obedience to the hermit, oftenmaking surly answer to his commands, but appearing to go in dread ofhim. It was evident they looked on me with disfavour, though why I hadno guess, and I did not give myself the trouble to learn.
A month lagged slowly by, Bland and I spending our days mainly inshooting, and the short time between supper and bed in converse, or,rather, in his talking and my listening. Toward the end of the monthhe began to drink deeply, and to talk more wildly than ever. Oneevening, after I had listened with my utmost patience to his railing onthis and that folly of mankind, or what he accounted such, he turned tothe subject of love, which he reckoned the veriest madness of all,which had been artfully turned by priests and lawmakers for theirprofit, and the subjection of their fellows to the institution ofmarriage; of which he said many vile and abominable things, confoundingthe divine affection of the soul with the instinct that leads animalsto pair, until my gorge rose, and I cried--
"Hold! I will not sit to listen to this foul raving."
Such fury seized him at my words as I hope I may never see again. Hesprang to his feet, his eyes glaring, his every limb trembling.
"Dare you call me madman?" he shouted. "You whom I have sheltered andfed, lumpish mooncalf, unlettered bumpkin! Out of my house, or I willmake an end of you!"
As he turned, foaming at the mouth with rage, to reach his gun, Ideemed it best to put the door between us.
At length I saw that the hermit was a madman, whose mind was possessedwith the belief that he alone, of all human creatures, had his rightwits, and the rest of the world was mad. Some touch of his infirmity Ihave seen in others, but nothing so colossal.
'Twas a keen and frosty night, the beginning of a spell of bitterweather, as I surmised from the silence on the fen. Many birds, whichstay on the marshes till Christmas, or later in mild winters, I hadseen in flight during the last two or three days, and many more musthave taken their departure, for there to be such extraordinaryquietude. On the morrow it would be easy to return to Belshaw over thefrozen bog, but it would be foolhardy to venture now, for the thincrescent of the moon was low down in the west. I did not choose torouse Bland's servants to ask for anything, so I paced up and down thehill ten or twelve times to warm myself, and then lay down in the barn,pulling hay over me, and waited for the dawn. When it came, I triedBland's door, and found it unbarred, so I stepped lightly in, andgathered my belongings together without arousing him, or at leastwithout his giving any sign of being disturbed. I had no occasion toenter the inner room, all my property being in the outer one. So Iturned my back on Lindholme, uncertain where to hide my head now, butintending to take counsel with John and Bess.
When I reached Belshaw, soon after seven o'clock, for one could goswiftly over the ground made firm by the frost, the sight of DameDrury's face told me bad news, for her eyes were swollen with weeping.She broke into such crying and sobbing, when I asked what was amiss,that she could scarcely tell me her doleful tidings. Late last night atroop of musketeers had surrounded the house, and some of them hadentered and laid hold of Bess, whom they had strapped behind one oftheir number, and carried her off to Castle Mulgrave. They had made nosecret of what was intended to be done with her; she was to be"questioned" of her knowledge of my doings and present abode, as thefellows had plainly said with many a coarse and brutal jest. While Isat with my head in my hand, trying to think of what I should do, Johncame to me.
"Nay, be not so utterly downcast, my friend," said he. "This is noneof Boswell's doing. Not even he can be such an unnatural fiend as togive up his daughter to the torment of the rack, or even to look onwhile she is tortured. He must have influence enough with the ear
l tosave her from that."
"You take too much for granted," I replied, "We don't know that Boswellis in the earl's service, or that his utmost effort on her behalf wouldhave a feather's weight. I can trust to no such peradventure as that."
"But you can do nothing," urged John. "If Boswell's standing with theearl avails nothing, what is yours? What can you offer to induce himto spare poor Bess?"
"Thanks, ten thousand thanks for the enlightening word," I cried,grasping John's hand. "I will offer him Frank Vavasour."
"But Frank Vavasour is not his own to offer. There are the rights of adear lady far away to be considered."
"If I know her, John, she would not think her property in me worth abad farthing, if I left Bess to the torture, if I did not do all thatmay be done to save her. Give order for Trueboy to be saddled andanother horse. Come with me to Castle Mulgrave; we can talk as weride."
Dame Drury brought us something to eat and drink, while the horses weresaddled, and in a few minutes we were on our way. As we rode, I toldJohn how I had been driven from Lindholme, and we spoke of what was tobe the manner of procedure at the castle. My first thought had beenthat John might deal with the earl, promising to give me up oncondition of the deliverance of Bess; but he had a word to say whichchanged the face of affairs.
"A week after you took refuge in Lindholme, I thought we had beenfoolish not to pay better attention to the proclamation issued by theearl. Here it is. You see the description is of your appearance as itwas before that villain meddled with your face, and we might haveshipped you off under the eyes of men who had that description in theirhands. I should have ventured across to Lindholme to speak with you onthis; but feared I might lead the way for your pursuers, and waitedalso for the slackening of the hue-and-cry."
"Thank Heaven for your delay. This may mean the salvation of Bess, andbetter terms for me than I had any hope of when we set off. The earland those nearest him may know nothing of my mutilation. I will takethe chance to negotiate with the earl myself. I know him as you donot. If my scheme prove good, Bess will be handed over to you withinan hour. What will come of me, remains to be seen. You will let everyone know where I am, and stir up all the help for me that can be found,I know right well. Squire Stovin, Parson Graves, Mr. Ulceby, andwhomsoever else you can think of. Here we are! Take Trueboy. I mustnot ride up to the castle, but enter as a marshman should."
We both alighted and gripped hands.
"God give you good luck!" said John. "I dare not gainsay you, myfriend, for you are doing what I hope I should do, if I were in yourplace. Be sure I will not rest until all is done that may be done, tosnatch you from beneath the old lion's paw."
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