Chapter XV
OUT OF THE FRYING-PAN INTO THE FIRE
There was a meeting in Trafalgar Square that day. Some people thoughtthey had a grievance, and resolved to air it. No matter what thegrievance was; the world is very full of them, and too many of themare hard and stern, and old and deep, difficult to be removed. But theauthorities had decided that this particular grievance should not beaired in this particular way; they would permit no meeting to be heldin Trafalgar Square. The result was, contests with the police. Thepeople with the grievance tried hard to air it; there were uglyrushes, the excitement spread, and in the neighbourhood adjoiningthere was something very like a riot.
One procession of the people with a grievance making for the Square,had been met by the police and turned aside. Part of the processionershad been turned into Piccadilly, and were being driven along thatthoroughfare, helter skelter, just as the procession which escortedBertie and his captor approached. The policeman saw his danger, andtried to turn aside. It was too late. The fugitives comingtumultuously along, and seeing only a single constable, made a rush inhis direction.
In a moment Bertie found himself the centre of a pushing, yelling,struggling crowd, with the policeman holding on to him like grimdeath. Above the tumult could be distinguished the accents of thelandlady of the "Rising Sun."
"I'm the landlady of the 'Rising Sun,' and I've kept the houserespectable these six-and-twenty years--ten long years a widow, andsixteen years a respectable married woman--and it's a sin and a shamethat a respectable female----"
But the crowd was no respecter of persons; the lady was hustled on oneside, where her voice was heard no more. Bertie became conscious thata contest was going on for the possession of himself. The policemanstuck to him with extraordinary tenacity; with equal tenacity thecrowd endeavoured to drag him away. Bertie suffered. Without wastingany time in inquiring as to the rights of the case, his new friendsdid their best to deprive the law of its prey. But they directed theirefforts with misguided zeal. If they had left him to his fate, Bertiecould only have suffered imprisonment at the worst; now he ran a riskof being drawn and quartered. They apparently did their best to draghis arms and legs out of their sockets; he felt his clothes giving wayin all directions. Through all the heat and turmoil he felt that ifthis was town he preferred the country.
In the unequal strife the constable, unsupported, was vanquished inthe end. It was well for Bailey the end came when it did; if he hadstuck to his prize much longer the pieces of a boy would have strewedthe street. Some one in the crowd struck the constable in the facewith a stick. Putting up his hand to ward off a second blow, Bertiewas instantly snatched from his grasp. His capture was so unsuspected,that the two zealous friends who were doing their best to tear himlimb from limb, recoiling backwards, loosed their hold, and let himfall upon the ground.
"Get up, youngster, and hook it! The peelers will have you again ifyou don't look sharp; there's a lot of them coming down the street."
A workman stooped over the lad as he lay in the mud and assisted himto rise. He regained his feet, feeling stunned and bewildered. Hisfriendly ally gave him a push, which sent him staggering into thethick of the crowd. It was only just in time to prevent the constablefrom catching hold of him again. The confusion suddenly became worseconfounded.
"The peelers! the peelers!" was the cry.
There was a trampling of hoofs; the crowd parted in all directions,each seeking safety for himself. Half a dozen mounted constables wentgalloping through.
"Now you cut and run! If you aren't quick about it they'll nail youagain as sure as eggs!"
It was the friendly workman urging Bertie to flight. He did not needmuch urging, but made the best of his way through the crowd, thememory of the policeman's grip still upon him. No one tried to stophim. Every one, including apparently his original captor, was too muchengaged in his own affairs. He did not wait to see what became of thelandlady of the "Rising Sun," though he seemed to hear her indignantaccents above the tumult and the din. As fast as his wearied legswould carry him he tore away.
All that day he had nothing to eat. He saw nothing again of thepoliceman, nor of the crowd, nor of the lady who had lost her pursewith its thirty-seven pounds, fifteen shillings, and a threepenny bit.But he had been in custody; he had signalized his entry into the Landof Golden Dreams by being within an ace of jail; the thought was withhim all the day. Every policeman he saw he shrunk away from, and everypoliceman seemed to follow his shrinking with suspicious eyes. He wasin continual expectation of feeling a hand upon his shoulder, andanother experience of how it felt to be dragged through the streets.
It never ceased to rain; yet the rain did not come down fast, butalways in the same slow, persistent drizzle. It was a cold rain, andthe wind, which every now and then became almost tempestuous, wascold. Every one seemed to be in a bad temper; there were sour faceseverywhere. The drivers of the various vehicles quarrelled with oneanother, and cursed and swore. Pedestrians hustled each other into thegutter; each seemed to be persuaded that the other did his best to getinto his way.
Bertie had paid three previous visits to London,--this made thefourth. On each of the previous occasions he had been accompanied byhis father; this was the first time he had come alone. Many a timethat day he wished that he had postponed his personal exploration tilla little later on; about the middle of the century after next, he waspersuaded, would have been time enough for him.
His first visit had been as one of a family party to see thepantomime. There had been a morning performance; they had left homeearly in the morning, returning late at night. That day was ared-letter day in Bertie's calendar.
"When I went to see the pantomime," was the words which formed aprelude to many a tale of the wondrous sights which he had seen.
The second time he came up with father alone. The doctor had had somemeeting to attend at the hospital at which he had spent his studentdays, and Bertie bore him company. Afterwards a visit had been paid toMadame Tussaud's and the Zoological Gardens. But the climax of the dayhad been the dinner at the restaurant in the evening before returninghome. Bertie always thought that he had seen life when he lookedbackwards at that dinner in the after days. Champagne had accompaniedthat repast, and a band had played.
But the crowning visit had been the third. A certaincousin--feminine--had been a member of the party, and she alone wouldhave canonized the day. They had gone to the exhibition and dinedthere, and seen the illuminations, and he had told himself that Londonwas a city of delights, a paradise below, fairyland to-day.
This point of view did not occur to him with so much force on this,the occasion of his fourth visit. As he struggled up and down the wetand greasy streets, with his blistered feet and his empty stomach,anything more unlike a city of delights it seemed to him that he hadnever seen. He was continually getting into everybody's way, alwaysbeing hustled into the gutter, and once, when an irate elderlygentleman sent him flying backwards to assume a sitting posture in thecentre of a heap of mud, everybody laughed. But it was no joke to him.The elderly gentleman was a little sorry when he saw what he had done.
"You oughtn't to get in my way! The police didn't ought to allow boyslike you to hang about the streets!"
That was the way he expressed his penitence, and then passed on.Bertie picked himself up at leisure. He was a sorry sight, and whenthe people saw the spectacle he presented they laughed again.
"If I was you I'd sow seeds in that there mud you've got on you; it'dbe as good as 'arf a hacre of ground."
This was the comment of a paper-seller. He resumed his calling,shouting, "Hecho! Fourth hedition! Hecho!" But some one else had aword to say. This was a girl who was selling flowers for button-holes.
"You let me stick these 'ere flowers in that there sile you've justpicked up. They'll grow like winkin'!"
All this was hard enough to bear, but the worst was the hunger andthirst. Although it rained all day, his thirst remaine
d unquenched.
Toward evening he found himself in Covent Garden. As he looked shylyround his hopes rose just a little. To begin with, there seemedshelter. If he might only be allowed to stay in this place all night!
On the ground was vegetable refuse, ancient cabbage leaves, odds andends of garbage which littered the place. If he could only pick up oneor two of those cabbage leaves and see how far they would go towardsstaying his appetite! Surely no one could object to that, since theywere placed there only to be thrown away. So he began picking up thecabbage leaves.
"Now then, what are you doing there? None of that now! Clear out ofthis, or I'll clear you out, and precious quick!"
At the sound of a strident voice Bertie trembled as though he had beenguilty of a heinous crime. He dropped the cabbage leaves out of hishands again. A little man, who was apparently some one in authority,had suddenly appeared from behind one of the pillars, and was shoutingat Bertie with the full force of his lungs. Like a frightened ewe thehero of yesterday gave a look round and slunk away. He wasdisappointed of his meal. The ground was evidently holy ground, andthe cabbage leaves were evidently sacred cabbage leaves. Thedisappointment seemed to make his hunger worse. He had scarcelystrength enough to slink away. He put his arms around one of thepillars, and, leaning his head against it, cried.
This was what had become of all his golden dreams! Of what stuff areheroes made?
"I say, young one, what's in the wind? Any one trodden on yourprecious toes? You don't seem so chirpy as some."
Bertie looked up through his tears to see who the speaker was. Alittle time ago to have been caught crying would have covered him withshame, now all shame of that sort seemed to have gone for ever. Hevaguely feared that this was some new Jack-in-office again bidding himmove on; but he was wrong.
The speaker was a boy about his own age; but there was something abouthim which at a very first glance showed that he was different fromother boys. He was respectably dressed; the chief peculiarity abouthis clothing being that it seemed to fit him like his skin. A tighterpair of trousers surely never imprisoned human legs. His waistcoatfitted him without a crease, and it seemed that he had been made forhis coat, and not his coat for him. He wore a billycock hat of aparticularly knowing pattern, set rakishly upon the side of his head;a stand-up collar made it difficult for him to look anywhere exceptstraight in front of him; and an enormous pin, set in the centre of agorgeous blue necktie, made his costume quite complete.
Even more remarkable than his costume was his face. It has been saidof the famous Lord Chancellor, Lord Thurlow, that no one could be sowise as Lord Thurlow looked; it was almost equally impossible that anyone could be so knowing as the expression of his countenance declaredthis young gentleman to be. It was an unhealthy face, an unpleasantface, with something in it which reminded you of how Methuselah mighthave appeared in his green old age. It was never still; the eyesseemed to be all over the place at once; it seemed to be continuallylistening to catch the first sound of something or some one drawingnear.
"Down on your luck? What are you piping your eye for? Does that sortof thing suit your constitution? Turn round to the light, and let'shave a look what you're like; don't keep hugging that pillar as thoughit was your ma."
Through all his misery Bertie saw that this young gentleman wascenturies older than himself, though they had probably entered theworld within the same twelve months. Besides, he was too prostrated toresist, even had he wished, and he allowed the other to drag him intoa position in which he might study his features at his leisure.
"I thought so,--directly I caught sight of your back I thought I knewyour size. Wasn't you in Sackville Street this morning?"
"In Sackville Street?" repeated Bertie vaguely.
"Yes, in Sackville Street, my bonny boy. Never heard tell of SackvilleStreet before, I suppose? So I should think by the look of you. Wasn'tit you I pitched the old girl's purse to?"
A light was dawning upon Bertie's mind.
"Was it you who stole the purse?"
The other gave a quick look round, as though the question took him bysurprise--if anything so self-possessed could be said to be taken bysurprise.
"Stow your cackle! Do you want to have me put away? Where do you livewhen you're at home? You must be a sharp one, though you do look sojolly green! I thought you'd be buckled to a certainty! I neverexpected to see you walking about as large as life. It gave me quite astart when I saw you hugging that pillar as though you loved it. Howdid you make tracks?"
Bertie was trying to collect his thoughts. This boy before him was athief, a miserable hound who tried to escape the consequences of hisown misdeeds by putting the odium of his crimes upon the innocent. ButBertie was alone; alone in the great city, hungry, thirsty, tired,wet, and cold. Human companionship was human companionship after all.And this boy looked so much more prosperous than he himself was.Yesterday he would have done great things; to-day he would havewelcomed a crust of bread coming even from this thief.
"The policeman wanted to lock me up."
"No! did he though? Funny ones those policemen are! they're alwayswanting to go locking people up. And did he cop the purse?"
"He took the purse away from me."
"And how come you to be making love to that there pillar, instead ofenjoying yourself in a nice warm cell? I suppose you didn't give thepoliceman one in the nose and knock him down?"
"We met some people in the street, and they made him let me go."
"Did they though? that was kind of them! When policemen was makingfree with me I wish I was always meeting people in the streets whowould make them interfering bobbies let me go. And now, who are youwhen you're at home? We're having quite a nice little conversation,ain't we, you and I? Glad I met you, quite a treat!" He raised his hatto express his sense of the satisfaction which he felt. "You don'tlook as though you were raised in these 'ere parts."
Bertie hung his head; he was ashamed: ashamed of many things, but mostof all just then of the company he was in. And yet, if he turned thisthief adrift, where else should he find a friend? And he was so tired,so hungry, so conscious of his own helplessness.
"You very nearly got me locked up this morning," was his answer.
"Well, my noble marquis, wasn't it better for you to be locked up thanme? It'll have to come, you know--if not to-morrow the day after."
To Bertie this view of the matter had not occurred before. It had notentered into his calculations that a journey to the Land of GoldenDreams would necessitate the process of locking-up.
"Are you on the cross, or only mouching around?"
This inquiry was Greek to Bertie, and his questioner perceived that hefailed to understand.
"You're a fly bloke, that you are! What's your little game? Youhaven't got a fortune in your pocket, or a marquis for a pa? What doyou do to live? I suppose you ain't reckoning to die just yet awhile."
"I wish I could do something, but I can't."
"Oh, you wish you could do something, do you, but unfortunately youcan't! Well, you are a trial for the nerves! Have you got any money?"
Bertie hung his head still lower. To be despised by a thief! Was thisthe result of all his dreams?
"No!"
"Got any friends?"
"I've run away from them."
And here the boy broke down. Turning, and leaning against a pillar, heburst into a passion of tears. The other eyed him for a few moments,whistling beneath his breath.
"That's the time of day, is it? I thought you were something of thatkind from the first, I did. What did you run away for?"
Bertie could not have told him to save his life. To have told thisthief that he had started on a journey to the Land of Golden Dreams;that he had resolved to emulate the doings of his heroes, Dick Turpin,Crusoe, Jack the Giant-Killer, and Robin Hood! Oh, ye gods! and now tobe crying against a post!
"Father living?"
No answer.
"Mother?"
No answer.
How well he kne
w that he loved his parents now! The mere mention ofthe word "mother" made him hysterical with woe. To have come withinreach of his mother's loving arms, to have been folded to her breast!If he could only come within reach of her again!
The other stood observing him with critical eyes, whistling all thetime.
"You seem to have had a considerable lot of water locked up tight. Ishould think you would have bust if you hadn't had a chance to let itgo. What are you a-howling at? Crying for your mammy?"
For answer Bertie turned with a sudden ferocity and struck at himsavagely. But the blow was struck at random, and the other had nodifficulty in avoiding it by stepping aside.
"Hollo! don't you come that game again, or I'll show you how to use abunch of fives."
But Bertie showed no further signs of fight. It had only been analmost childish display of passionate spite at the other's coarseallusion to his "mammy"--the mother whom he was now so sure he lovedso well. Even the passion of his tears died away into a whimper. Hehad not strength enough to continue in a passion long.
"Are you hungry?" asked the other.
"I'm starving!"
"Ah, I've been hungry, and more than once, and it isn't nice. Ishouldn't be surprised if you found it rather nasty, especially if youaren't used to it. Now, look here; let's have a look at you."
He went close up to Bertie and looked him straight in the face withhis keen, restless eyes. Bertie returned the look as well as he couldwith his tear-stained orbs.
"You look a game 'un, somehow; and you look grit. I suppose it'sfeeling peckish you don't like. There's a lot of talk about couragewhat's always the same, but I don't believe there ever was a chap whokept up his pluck upon an empty belly. I've been hungry more thanonce. Now, look here; if I take you to a crib I know of, and set youup in vittles and a shake-down, will you keep your mouth shut fast?"
"I don't know what you mean."
"Oh, yes, you do; you're not so soft as that. If I act square withyou, will you act square with me?"
"I always do act square," said Bertie.
"Very well, then, come along; if you do, then you're the sort for me.I did you a bad turn this morning, now I'll do you a good one to makeup."
A Hero of Romance Page 15