Chapter XIII
IN PETERSHAM PARK
Bertie looked at Mr. and Mrs. Jenkins, and Mr. and Mrs. Jenkins lookedat him, and husband and wife looked at one another.
"And have you had a nice sleep, my dear?"
Bertie vouchsafed no reply to the lady's question, continuing to lookat her with his characteristically dogged look in his eyes.
"And how long have you been awake, my dear? Have you only just nowwoke?"
Bertie threw the clothes from off him, and turned to Mr. Jenkins.
"I won't go home, even if you do go and tell my mother, you oldsneak!"
This uncomplimentary epithet was applied to Mr. Jenkins with suchsullen ferocity, that that gentleman started and looked even morediscomfited than he had done before. Bertie got out of bed and stoodupon the floor.
"Give me my clothes, and let me go; you've no right to keep me here."
Mr. Jenkins was apparently speechless, but his quicker-witted wife wasvoluble enough.
"Certainly, my dear. No one wants to keep you, lovey. You pay us whatyou owe and you're as free as the air!"
"I don't owe you anything."
"Not anything for a young gentleman like you; it's only six shillings,my dear."
"Six shillings!"
"Yes, six shillings. Would you like your bill, my dear? Jenkins, goand get the young gentleman his bill."
"You're a lot of thieves!"
"Oh, thieves are we? Very well, if you like to think us so, my dear.But I shouldn't have thought that a young gentleman like you wouldhave liked to rob poor people of the money he owes for his board andlodging. And if you talk about thieves, my dear, Jenkins will go for apoliceman, and a policeman will soon show you who's the thief, if youdon't pay us what you owe, my lovey. And I shouldn't be surprised if,when he heard as how you'd runned away, the policeman wasn't to takeand lock you up at once, my pet. Now, Jenkins, you come along with me,and while I makes up the young gentleman's bill you go and fetch apoliceman, because as he thinks we're thieves, he do."
While the lady delivered herself of this voluble string ofobservations she had gradually approached the door. Before Bertie hadperceived her design, she had pushed her husband through the door, andwas through herself; the door was shut, the key turned in the lock,and Bertie was a prisoner.
"Now we'll see who's thieves!" the lady was heard to observe outside."Now, Jenkins, you go and get a policeman this instant minute, andmind you bring a good big one, too!"
Very few boys would be so foolish as to, what is rather erroneouslytermed run away; sneak away would perhaps be the correct phrase. If inany given million we were to put it that there is one such being, weshould perhaps be stating a larger average than actually exists. Butwe may be pretty sure, that for even that young gentleman theadventures which had befallen Bertie Bailey at the very outset wouldhave been quite sufficient; he would have devoted the small remainderof his energies to running, _i.e_., sneaking, back again.
But Bertie Bailey was made of sterner stuff; he was of those younggentlemen who have to learn their lessons a good many times overbefore they can get the meaning of what they have learnt into theirheads. Those who reach the end of this story will find that he didlearn his lesson to the end, and that it was a terrible lesson too,but the ending was not yet.
So soon as he understood that he was a prisoner, Bertie cast about forsome method of escape. In his heart he could not but allow that thecommencement of his journey had not been so successful as he hadintended that it should be. But he was naturally slow to admit afailure. And to think that the ingenious Mr. and Mrs. Jenkins shouldmake capital out of his misfortunes; that was an idea he by no meansrelished.
Fortunately, the lady had left his clothes behind. It occurred toBertie that she might perceive her error and return to fetch them. Toprevent any likelihood of that he put them on. Then he looked about tofind a path to freedom.
The window immediately caught his eye. It was a very little one, inthe fashion of a double lattice, which opened outwards. But Bertieresolved that it was large enough for him. He opened it carefully andpeeped out. It was apparently a window at the side of the house,looking out upon a narrow passage-way.
Had Mr. and Mrs. Jenkins known the character of their guest, theywould never have been so foolish as to think the bird was safe whilehe had the command of that convenient window. It was only some ten ortwelve feet above the ground, and to Bertie the drop was nothing.
He lost no time in putting it to the test. First peering up and downthe narrow passage, to see that no one was in sight and that no otherwindow commanded a view of his operations, he brought the only chairthe room contained up to the window and commenced to climb through it,feet foremost. The operation was a delicate one, but the size of thewindow precluded any other mode of egress. Even as it was, when he wasabout half way through he discovered that he was stuck fast. For a fewdisagreeable moments he feared that he would have to remain in thatuncomfortable position till Mrs. Jenkins returned to secure her prey.
He wriggled and twisted, but for a time in vain. Suddenly, however, hedid more than he intended; for the result of a desperate effort was toprecipitate him so rapidly backwards that he was only just able tograsp the old-fashioned, narrow, wooden window sill with his righthand in time to prevent himself from falling in a heap upon theground. He hung for a second, to give himself chance to recover fromthe shock, then he loosened his hold, and, dropping, alighted on hisfeet upon the ground; and no sooner was he on the ground than, withoutwaiting to see if there was any one about, he dashed helter skelterdown the passage at the top of his speed.
He was not pursued. On that point his mind was soon at rest. Mr. andMrs. Jenkins were probably too much engaged with other matters tothink of the possibility of their guest effecting his escape. Thepassage led, by a succession of devious turnings, into the RichmondRoad. When he reached the main thoroughfare Bertie ceased to run.
Under the railway arch, past the shops, past the cricket field, intothe lanes beyond, went Bertie. He had had nothing to eat that morning,he had not a farthing in his pocket; he had no conception where moneywas to come from unless it tumbled from the skies; yet he wentunhesitatingly forward, as though all the world was at his feet, andall its wealth was in his pocket.
Past Ham Common into Petersham, and now he began to think that perhapshe was a little hungry. Delicious recollections of the morning meal ofyesterday floated through his mind. A dish of ham and eggs he wouldhave welcomed as a dish worthy of the gods; but there were no ham andeggs for him just then.
The road was dusty; the previous rains had disappeared, and the mudwas turned to dust. By the time he reached Bute House he had made uphis mind that the dust and heat combined were a little more than hequite relished. By then, too, he had no doubt but that he was hungryand thirsty too.
Suddenly the sound of voices fell upon his ear; of children's voices,of their laughter, of their cries of pleasure as they called to oneanother. He looked through the rails into Petersham Park. The park wasfull of children. There was some huge school treat, and in hundredsthey were passing here and there. Up the hill, and along the valley,among the trees, and in the nooks and dells, as far as the eye couldpenetrate, there were children moving. He entered, and advancing somedistance from the outer wall, he lay down upon the grass.
When he had lain there some time there were races started. Little boysand big raced for prizes. Those in charge of the multitude of childrenarranged the sports.
"Here's a race for a shilling!" shouted one such person in authority.He held a leather bag above his head. There was a shout from the boyswho crowded round him. The prize was of unusual magnitude. All theprizes seemed to be in money,--twopence, threepence, fourpence hadbeen their value until now--and no sooner were they won than thewinners rushed to spend their prizes at the stalls of fruit andsweets, the proprietors of which plied a roaring trade. When the racefor a shilling was announced there was a shout from a m
ultitude ofthroats.
"Now then, why don't you have a try to win? you're big enough. Lyingthere as if you're half asleep; jump up, and show them how fast yourfeet can travel!"
A young man was standing by Bertie, looking down at him, evidentlyunaware that he was not an original member of the noisy crowd.
"Jump up! Why don't you go in for the race? Are you ill?"
"I'm not ill."
Without another word Bertie got up and joined the host of boys whowere preparing to run. There were probably a hundred, and thedirectors of the sports had considerable difficulty in arranging afair start. The race was confined to the bigger ones; there were nostarts allowed, and they were all supposed to start from the sameline. But the competitors had not the nicest sense of honour, and eachendeavoured to steal a yard from his friend. Finally they were gotinto something like a proper line.
The distance to be run was about two hundred yards. The course was nota very regular one, as some were up the hill, and some were down; thebreadth of the level ground was not sufficient to contain them all.Two persons stood in a line to mark the winning-post, and between themthey stretched a cord. The one on the right held the shilling in abag.
Several false starts were made. In their anxiety to be first thecompetitors could not manage to stand still. Half a dozen times theybroke away, and had to be called back again. At last they were off.The course was from the park and towards the road, the winning-postbeing about a dozen yards from the school house at the gate.
The race was short, and, so far as the majority of the competitorswere concerned, by no means sharp. Quite a third were out of it in thefirst six yards; half the remainder were beaten in a dozen, and beforehalf the distance was covered there were only four or five who had achance of winning. Among these was Bailey. He was not over fast on hisfeet as a rule, but never had the inducement to make the best possiblespeed been so strong before. He was running for his dinner, and, forall he knew, his tea and supper too.
In the last fifty yards the race resolved itself into a struggle ofthree. In front was a tall, lanky boy, who, so far as length of limbwas concerned, ought to have left the others at the post. But hiscondition was not equal to his build; he went puffing and pantingalong. Obviously it would take him all he knew to last it out. About acouple of yards behind him, and almost side by side with Bertie, was aslightly-built lad, who was straining every nerve to keep his place.The freshest of the three was Bailey.
Yet the lanky youth looked like winning. He lumbered and blunderedalong, but his long legs enabled him to cover at a single stride theground which they had to take two steps to cover. The boy by Bertie'sside had just given up the struggle with a gasp, when the lanky ladcaught his foot in a hole and went headlong to the ground. Like aflash Bertie put on a spurt and dashed victorious in. The prize-holderheld out the leather bag, and Bertie caught it as he passed.
But the lanky youth, disappointed in his expectations, having puffedhimself for nothing, beheld the reward of his endeavours snatched fromhis grasp with a burning sense of injury. Struggling to his feet hegave his emotions words.
"It ain't fair! Who's he? He ain't one of us! He's a stranger!"
Instantly the words were caught up by a host of disappointedcompetitors.
"He's a stranger! What's he want running races along with us? andwinning of the prizes?"
The individual who had so hastily yielded up the reward of victory,turned to Bertie.
"Aren't you one of our boys?"
But Bertie did not wait to give an answer. The shilling of which hehad gained possession meant so much to him, that he instinctively feltthat to wait to explain exactly who he was would be a waste of time.He had been told to run, he had run, he had fairly won, he had beenhanded the shilling as his by right; it meant dinner, supper,everything to him; he was not going to stop to argue the point as towho he was. So when the over hasty-individual put the question to him,his only answer was to take to his heels and run.
Instantly a crowd was after him.
"Stop him! stop him! He's a stranger! He's not one of us!"
But if he had run fast before, he ran faster now. He was through thegate before any one was near him, dashing across the road, and underthe shadow of the "Star and Garter."
But the chase was relinquished almost as soon as it was begun. Theperson who had held the shilling stopped it.
"Never mind, boys; he won the race, so let him take the prize. Perhapshe wants it more than we do. I daresay we can find another shilling,and next time we'll be a little more particular."
The crowd returned into the park again.
Bertie pursued his way. When he saw that the chase had stopped heslowed a little, soon contenting himself with rapid walking. He wasvery hot; the perspiration stood in great beads upon his face; hisclothing had an inclination to stick to his limbs. And he was verythirsty; his throat was parched and dry. He was hungry too; his longabstinence began to tell; he felt he could not go much farther withoutsomething to eat and drink.
Along the Lower Road, past Petersham fields, past Buccleuch House,into Richmond town. The town was crowded. The afternoon was welladvanced. The fine weather had brought people out into the streets.Hill Street and George Street were crowded with both pedestrians andcarriages. Richmond can be both gay and lovely on a sunny afternoon.It was then. The untidy, dusty, perspiring boy looked out of placein that big bright crowd, made up as it was for the most part ofwell-dressed people.
Once or twice he stopped and looked into the confectioners' shops, butfrom their appearance they were evidently beyond his means. If he hadonly been still the possessor of five pounds he might have ruffledit with the best of them, but a shilling would not go far in thosewell-filled emporiums of confectionery and nice-looking butunsubstantial odds and ends, and he so hungry too. He was beginning tofear that Richmond was not the place for him, and that he would haveto go hungry and thirsty, when he reached the coffee palace in the KewRoad.
Here he thought he might venture in; and he did. He had a bloater andsome bread-and-butter, and a cup of coffee, and there was not muchchange left in his pocket after that. But it was a sufficiently heartymeal, and the choice of materials did credit to his judgment. He leftthe shop with his hunger satisfied, feeling brighter and fresheraltogether, and with fivepence in his pocket clutched tightly with hisright hand. Those coppers were exceeding precious in his eyes.
He set out to walk to London. He knew that Richmond was not very farfrom London, and had a general idea that he had to keep straight on.He had lingered over his meal, taking his time and resting, andwatching the other customers enjoying theirs, so that it was about sixo'clock when he rose and went. A curious spirit of adventure possessedhim still. The bull-dog nature of the boy was roused, and it was withan implicit faith in the future that he went straight on.
Until he reached Kew Bridge all was easy sailing; there was a straightroad, and he went straight on. But at Kew Bridge he pulled up,puzzled. He had crossed the river at Hampton Court, and again atKingston, and apparently here was another bridge to cross. It seemedto him that things were getting mixed. Ignorant of the convolutions ofthe Thames, of its manifold twists and turns, he began to wonderwhether he had not after all gone wrong, when he found the river infront of him again.
By the bridge lingered two or three of the flower-sellers who hauntthe neighbourhood of Kew Gardens. He addressed himself to one of them.
"Am I right for London?"
"Of course you is, over the bridge, turn to the right, and go straighton. Won't you buy a bookay? Only this one left; ain't sold none allday,--flowers only just fresh,--only sixpence, sir."
The man kept up by Bertie's side, supported by one or two of hiscolleagues, proffering their wares.
"I haven't any money."
"Don't say that, sir,--I'm a poor chap, sir,--I am indeed, sir,--very'ard to stand all day and not sell nothing--just this one, sir--youshall have it for fivepence."
"I tell you I haven't any money."
"Le
ave the gentleman alone, Bill. Don't you see he's a-going home tohis ma?"
His colleagues dropped off, firing a parting shot; but the man whomBertie had originally addressed kept steadily on, sticking close tohis side. They crossed the bridge together. The sun was beginning togo home in the west, majestically enthroned in a bank of crimsonclouds. The waters were tinted by his departing rays.
"Just this one, sir--take pity on a poor chap, now do, sir--you've gota nice home to go to, and a ma and all, and here's me, what hasn'tearned a copper all the day, with nothing to eat and drink, and not abed to lay me 'ead upon--buy this one, sir--you shall have it forfourpence."
"I haven't any money."
They went down the bridge together, the man still sticking to Bertie'sside.
"If I was a gentleman, and a poor chap came to me, and asked me to buya bookay, I wouldn't tell him I'd got no money, and me a hard-workingchap what hasn't tasted food for a couple of days, and hasn't seen abed for a week--just this one, sir--you shall have it for threepence,and that's less than it cost me, it is indeed, sir--won't you have itfor threepence?"
"I tell you I haven't any money."
The man stopped, allowing Bertie to wend his way alone, but his voicestill followed after.
"Oh, you haven't any money, haven't you? would you like me to lend youhalf-a-crown or a suvering? I'm sure I'm game. 'Ow much does your maallow you a week? a hapenny and a smack on the 'ead? If I was you I'dask your nurse to take you out in the pram, and buy you lollipops,--goon, you mealy-faced young 'umbug!"
Bertie almost wished he had not asked the way, but had been content toblunder on unaided. The flower-seller's voice was peculiarly audible;the passers by were more amused than Bertie was. It was his firstexperience of the characteristic eloquence of a certain class ofLondoner; he would have been content if it had been his last. He wenton, feeling somewhat smaller in his own esteem.
Past the "Star and Garter," along the Kew road, never a very cheerfulthoroughfare. Bertie thought it particularly cheerless then. ThroughGunnersbury, and Chiswick, and Turnham Green, past the green itself,past Duke's Avenue, which is already a caricature of its former self,and threatens to be an avenue no more. Past where, not so very longago, the toll bar used to stand, though there is no memorial of itspresence now. Past the carriage manufactory; past the terminus of thatsingular railway which boasts of a single carriage and a singleengine,--said railway being two if not three miles long. Into KingStreet, Hammersmith, and when he had got so far upon his journey thelad began to tire.
The evening was closing in. The lamps were lighted; the shops wereablaze with gas; the streets were crowded. But Bertie did not knowwhere he was; he was standing on strange ground. He wondered, ratherwearily, if this were London; but after his recent experience with thevendor of bouquets he was afraid to ask. He was hungry again, andbegan to look into the shop windows with anxious eyes. Fivepence wouldnot go far.
He tramped wearily on, right through King Street. At a costermonger'sstall he bought a pennyworth of apples, and munched them as he went.His capital was now reduced to fourpence, and night was come, and hewas on the threshold of the great city--that Land of Golden Dreams.
A Hero of Romance Page 13