Delphi Complete Works of Arthur Morrison

by Arthur Morrison

  “The men were dunted dumb to see her, but Robin Drake, that feared for nayther man nor devil, he cussed her and warmined her, an’ made to drive her with a rope’s end. ‘Get off, ye naggin’ oad shanny,’ says he; ‘an’ shut your gab ‘fore ye get summut to sing for!’

  “But the rest o’ the men — older men, mostly — were a sight less daresome with a witch. ‘Shut your mouth, Rob Drake,’ says Stephen Allen, that was pardner in the venture, under his breath. ‘The run’s but begun. Don’t risk the ill-tongue on the crop if a tub ‘ll satisfy her. See, mother,’ says he, ‘take a tub an’ get scarce with it, an’ keep it out o’ sight!’ For there were few in these parts that dared go crossways with oad Mother Lay.

  “‘Thank ye, an’ good luck, Master Allen,’ says the oad woman, bobbin’ like a string jack an’ grabbin’ up a tub. ‘An’ no thanks an’ no luck to them as calls me ill!’ An’ off she goes, a-hugging the tub afore her, up to the lane. ‘Twere a fair heavy load for an oad woman like her, an’ she goes slow enough; but kickin’ an’ liftin’ her heels like jumpin’ Johnson.

  “The carriers stood garpin’, but Rob Drake an’ Stephen Allen damns ‘em back to their senses, an’ gets the rest o’ the tubs on ‘em quick enough, an’ off they goes up the hill an’ along the lane quiet and safe; an’ so that night’s run came off all right. Though there were one more cur’ous thing. Oad Nanny Leigh couldn’t ha’ been more’n forty yards ahead o’ the first carrier when he set off at a trot, but arl the way up an’ past her cottage — a good half-mile — nayther he nor none o’ the others once clapped eyes on her agen; an’, true ’tis, the lane were the onny way for her to go!

  “But Rob Drake were angry to have his word overborne, an’ called it sin to waste a tub on sich an’ oad trollops. An’ when he told his brother Eli, Eli thought so too. ‘I’ll surprise the oad witch,’ says Eli Drake, ‘an’ the tub sha’n’t be wasted arter all!’

  “So next art’noon, towards dusk, up goes Master Eli Drake, mighty gay an’ knowin’, in his King’s uniform, to oad Mother Lay’s.

  “‘Good evenin’ to ye, Mistress Lay,’ says he, standin’ in the door an’ lookin’ round the keepin’-room. ‘’Tis a fine day an’ looks like good harvest.’

  “‘Aye, that it do, Master Drake,’ says the oad woman, lookin’ at Eli a bit sideways. For there were mighty little furniture in the place, an’ she was mindful that the tub weren’t so well bid as’t might be. Come to think of it, it do seem a wonderful odd thing that most o’ the witches I ever heard on were so poor in clothes an’ furniture; looks as though the devil were slippery in his bargains.

  “So Mother Lay she looks sideways at Eli, and Eli he grins broad an’ impudent, an’ steps in unasked. ‘’Tis a hainish unpleasant business is mine, mum,’ he says, grinnin’ wider ‘n ever, an’ starin’ this way and that about the place, up an’ down, an’ all round. ‘’Tis a hainish business, but it shouldn’t make neighbours bad friends. That’s a good big apron you’ve throwed under the kneadin’-trough, but I seem to see the shape of a tub o’ some sort under it. Surely not a tub o’ white brandy? No, surely not!’ An’ with that he stoops an’ lays hoad of it; an’ oad Nanny Lay she looks at him hard an’ evil.

  “‘Ah! but ’tis!’ says Eli Drake. ‘A tub o’ moonshine, if ever I see one. Sorry to disappoint ye, mum; but ‘ris my duty to seize this here tub.’ An’ he heaves it up on his shoulder, grinning an’ winking.

  “‘Take care, Eli Drake,’ says oad Mother Lay, lookin’ more evil and dangerous than ever. ‘Take care how ye cross me!’

  “Eli Drake laughs outright at her now, an’ for a moment the oad woman changed her tune. ‘Ah, Master Drake,’ says she, ‘’tis pleasant of ye to make your joke, but people might see the tub from the lane. Putt it down, now, there’s a deary, an’ we’ll hey a glass together. Come, ‘taren’t neighbourlike to carry a joke too far!’

  “Eli only walks out with the tub on his shoulder, laughin’ fit to crack. ‘I count I can carry it about as far as Leigh,’ says he. ‘At any rate, don’t worry — I’ll do my endeavour!’

  “‘Now don’t ‘ee be so hard on a poor lone woman,’ says the oad witch, pleadin’ an’ beggin’. ‘’Tis ill for a fine King’s officer like you to take away the little drop o’ comfort from a poor oad widder, Master Drake. ’Tis sarten you don’t mean it. Master Drake, do ‘ee let be!”

  “Eli Drake cut her short ‘twixt laughin’ an’ swearin’. ‘Let go o’ my coat,’ he says, ‘an’ take it lucky ‘taint in my convenience to walk you off too!’ Because o’ course he never meant carryin’ the tub farther than his own house.

  “When she saw nothin’ ‘ud change him, she let go all an’ cursed. ‘I warned ‘ee, Eli Drake’ she screamed: ‘I warned ‘ee an’ ye wouldn’t listen. I begged ‘ee an’ ye laughed at me. Listen or laugh, laugh or listen, you’ll rue this minute when ’tis too late! You’ll rue this minute on earth above an’ in hell fire below! Go home, go home, Eli Drake; go home laughin’ with your stolen tub; go home to your bed an’ make the most o’ this night’s rest, for your next will be a bitter one! I’ll putt upon ye heavier an’ sooner than ye know — you an’ your twin brother too, that tried to rob me first!’

  “Eli Drake laughed till the tub jiggled on his shoulder, as he walked down the lane. An’ oad Nanny’s voice followed him out o’ sight.

  “‘Go on, go on!’ she says, ‘yow ha’r’t far to travel. What I can’t do myself I can putt it on others to do! Make the most o’ your time, you an’ your brother both!”

  “Robin laughed as much as Eli when he heard the tale, an’ they both sat down to stick a gimlet in the tub and drink luck to the next run. Only their mother fared uneasy. ‘You shouldn’t ha’ done it, Eli,’ says she; ‘‘twill lead to trouble, sarten. Take it back now, and call it all a joke, do! Take it back, an some other little thing with it, to pacify her!’

  “But the boys only laughed again, an’ poured her out a glass of brandy-an’-water, which she wouldn’t take. She were a little, quiet woman, were Mrs. Drake, far unlike her sons, though they fared mighty fond of her, both of ‘em. But as for givin’ heed to what she said — not them.

  “The two brothers went to bed together merry enough that night, after they’d unplugged the gimlet-holes more than once, an’ more than twice. Eli was off guard for the night, and the two slep’ sound and heavy. But their mother was wakeful. Mighty still it is o’ quiet nights down on the marshes, as you know, an’ she, lyin’ awake with her window open, for ‘twere summer weather, might ha’ heard the grass growin’, pretty nigh. She lay awake and uneasy; an’ in the black of the night there carne a sound of something scuffling past very quiet outside. ‘Twere no human thing, surely, an’ nothen on four feet that she could fix on as very likely; not the dog, for he were chained behind in the yard, nor the cat, nor a rabbit, for neither scuffled that way. ’Tis likely she never thought of a badger.

  “She lay an’ listened, an’ heard the thing go brushin’ along as far as t’ other bedroom window, where her sons were, an’ there it stopped. An’ at that the dog behind woke an’ began sniffin’ an’ whinin’ an’ shakin’ his chain.

  “Barrin’ the dog, she heard no more for a good while, an’ then ’twas somebody walkin’ about in her sons’ bedroom. At this she got up an’ went out an’ along to their door. ‘Twere not loud footsteps, an’ she guessed it were either Robin or Eli on his bare feet. So she called. The footfalls stopped, but there was no word of answer. So she called again, an’ made to open the door. Now that door, sir, was just on a common latch, no more; such as you lift with a finger. The latch lifted easy enough, but the door might ha’ been nailed for all it ‘ud budge, top, bottom, or side.

  “Mrs. Drake thumped an’ called. ‘Robin!’ she called. ‘Eli! Be you sleep-walkin’? Why d’ye hold the door?’

  “There came not a sound but the footfalls again. They went across the room an’ stopped; and then the bed creaked an’ bumped, an’ all were quiet.

&nbs
p; “Mrs. Drake made no doubt but that one o’ the two had got up asleep an’ putt the chest o’ drawers across the door. So she went back to her room, meanin’ to slip on a shawl an’ a pair o’ shoes, an’ go and look in at the other bedroom window. She’d scarce got to her door but something made her change her mind, an’ she ran back to call louder an’ push harder. An’, behold you! no sooner was her hand on the latch than the door opened, free an’ easy. The door opened, an’ there, on the casement-sill opposite, was a black shadowy something that turned its head, with a long sharp snout. It turned its head an’ then bundled out o’ window neck an’ crop, scratchin’ down the ivy an’ scufflin’ off over the garden; an’ the dog outside jumps wild on his chain, and howls like Bedlam.

  “Mrs. Drake was near to drop with fright, but she ran across an’ banged the casement, an’ catched it. An’ then she smelt, an’ the place was full of what the carriers had sniffed in the copse the night afore — the stink of a badger.

  “‘Robin! Eli! Wake up! Are ye well, my boys?’ she called; an’ shook the nearest by the shoulder.

  “He was heavy in sleep, an’ ’twas a moment or two ‘fore he woke enough to grunt an’ wonder. He was all right, ’twould seem, an’ so was t’other; an’ they scarce said it but they were fast asleep again. They hadn’t tapped the tub for nothing, them jolly twins.

  “Their mother was thankful to find ‘em unhurt, but she was frighted an’ bemazed at the whole thing. She could only hope that the thing on the sill had been no farther; though she was sore troubled an’ distressed. So she dressed herself, an’ walked about the rest of the night, an’ sat, an’ worried, an’ peeped into the young fellows’ bedroom every now an’ then. There was no more to disturb her, ‘cept that at first, as she began dressing, she heard a queer sort o’ snarling bark two or three times outside the garden fence. She guessed it to be a stray dog, or a fox, though the noise were far unlike either. That was because she den’t know the voice of a badger; few do, for ’tis a silent beast, mostly.

  “In the morning Robin an’ Eli rose up dry an’ sick an’ surly. Bad heads an’ bad mouths they’d both on ‘em got. Sarten to say they’d had a good few turns at the brandy tub, but it had never served ‘em so before, such purely good stuff as ’twas. They snapped an’ snarled at one another every turn.

  “‘Pah!’ says Robin. ‘Place smells like a sty. Couldn’t ‘ee leave the window open, same as I set it?’

  “‘Leave the window open?’ says Eli. ‘I did. Ye shut it yourself, dang ‘ee.’

  “‘An’ who’s a-been at my pistols?’ says Robin. ‘I left ‘em in the drawer, an’ here they’re atop o’ the chest. Loaded, too! I’d a-swore I drawed the charges yesterday. Seems you’ve been a-sleep-walkin’!’

  “Sleep-walkin’ yourself!’ growls Eli. ‘I ha’n’t touched your pistols. Pity you can’t hold a drop o’ liquor like a man. Ugh!’

  “He puffs and spurts with his dry mouth, an’ presently draws out from his lips two stiff black hairs. ‘What’s this?’ he says. ‘Mouth like a mortar-mill, hair an’ all. An’ on the bed, too; stinkin’ black hair, like a polecat’s. What sort o’ brute ha’ ye been harbourin’ in here, ye drunken lump?’

  “So ‘twent till they were nigh at blows, them two brothers as had never quarrelled in their lives afore. An’ they were as short an’ snarly with their mother, too, an’ would listen to nothing she had to say about the affairs o’ the night; till the poor woman went away an’ cried. An’ the fear was on her, hard an’ heavy an’ black; for she knew that oad Nanny Lay had been with ‘em in the night, an’ these were no more her sons as she’d known ‘em, but men bewitched.

  “So the two brothers went about growling an’ snapping an’ scowling, an’ sometimes almost fighting. But most of the day they kept apart. Now, the night to come was app’inted for running the rest of the tubs o’ brandy. There had to go a night between, ‘cause the carriers wouldn’t work two nights together; an’ they’d be little good for smart work if they would, for need of sleep. ‘Twere Eli’s turn for night guard, an’ as he were going out, says Robin: ‘The rest o’ the crop’s comin’ in to-night. How about time?’

  “‘Time yourself!’ says Eli, an’ swears. ‘Time yourself, an’ go about your smugglin’ your own way. I’m a King’s man, I am!’ An’ he slouched off, black as thunder.

  “‘King’s man!’ shouts Robin. ‘I’ll give ye King’s man, ye sulky brute!’ An’ he’d ha’ rushed after Eli to strike him, but his mother held him back, an’ prevented him. He pushed her away, swore worse than Eli, an’ presently went off on his business. An’ his mother sat at home, an’ cried again.

  “Well, that night the boats pulled off, an’ lifted the rest o’ the crop o’ tubs all fair an’ easy, without a kink. ‘Twere a good night for the job, moonless an’ cloudy, an’ darker than the first night. Robin Drake gave little thought to his brother’s talk, knowing well enough the reg’lar rounds o’ the preventive boats. The carriers were all in to time, waiting in the copse, just as before. All being clear, as far as could be guessed, in came the boats, over the Marsh End Sand, hard as men could pull. In they came, an’ Robin Drake an’ Stephen Allen had a pair o’ tubs on the first carrier almost as soon as they’d touched bottom. The carriers swarmed round, the boats were half unloaded, and some o’ the men were getting off, when —

  “‘Halt, there!’ comes a roar from the hill-spit behind the copse. ‘Stand, every man o’ you, in the king’s name!’

  “An’ Lord! there were the preventive men almost round ‘em a’ready! An’ more than the Leigh boatmen, too — a lot from a cutter.

  “Then there was the biggest fanteeg an’ hullabaloo an’ general Dovercourt ever heard along this coast. The new chief officer came tearin’ an’ swearin’ down with his whinger in his hand, callin’ to his men to seize every man of ‘em. One or two o’ the carriers hulled down their tubs an’ ran, others ran an’ took the tubs with ‘em. Some o’ the boatmen, hemmed in, tried to make a bit of a stand, reckonin’ on the preventive men favourin’ ‘em and giving ‘em a chance of a bolt, an’ others made a move to shove off the boats. An’ slap in the thick of it all came a pistol-shot that made most of ‘em jump where they stood; and then another.

  “The two shots were close in the same spot, it seemed, though there were a few moments between ‘em. Who had fired nobody knew. The chief officer promised a deal to the smuggler found with a smoky pistol, but pretty soon them as could had got away; but most were took, and most o’ the tubs...

  “Well, when it came to lookin’ over, it was seen that Eli Drake was missing; an’ ’twas an hour ‘fore they found him. Find him they did at last, however, after the prisoners had been marched off, an’ they found him by help of a lantern that one or two were using as were left to search for dropped tubs. An’ they found his brother Robin with him. It was in a little hollow below the copse, an’ there the twin brothers were lying, one atop o’ the other, dead an’ bloody. They turned ‘em over, an’ their faces were set like the faces o’ two fightin’ dogs.

  “Shot they were, both of ‘em, Robin through the head, an’ Eli through the chest, and shot at kissing distance; for Eli’s coat was scorched as big as a crown piece, an’ Robin’s temple was black, where any temple was left. But both the fired pistols were Robin’s.

  “Now, ’twas plain enough that Robin had shot Eli, but nobody could ever tell which o’ the two had shot Robin. Whether Eli snatched his other pistol in the struggle, or whether the spell lifted from Robin when he saw he’d shot his own brother an’ he put the second pistol to his own head, nobody ever knew; nor ever will, not in the world we’re sittin’ in.

  “They carried them along up the lane where oad Nanny Lay had carried her tub two nights back, lighting their way with the lanterns. An’, believe me, sir — or believe the men as saw it, rather — all the way up there went a black creature before ‘em on its hind legs, bobbin’ an’ caperin’ an’ turnin’ its head, with a long sharp snout! Aye, till they we
re like to drop the bodies an’ run, very nigh, sir, though there were seven of ‘em together.”

  “Shadows from the lanterns, probably,” I suggested; for I was young, and doubtless too pert with my elders.

  “No doubt, sir,” said Roboshobery Dove, drily, “since you say so. But not havin’ been there myself I didn’t contradict them as was. However, nobody hereabout saw much more o’ Mother Lay.”

  “Did she die?” I asked.

  “That I won’t say, sir, but leave it to your opinion. There was a great noisin’ about o’ the matter next day, as you may guess, an’ towards late in the afternoon things grew so that a gang started up from Leigh to drag oad Nanny Lay out an’ swim her, or worse. They were a woundy rough lot in Leigh at that time, an’ there’s no tellin’ what they might ha’ done if they’d found her. But she was gone, an’ nothing left in the cottage but what wouldn’t go in a bundle or so.

  “They buried the brothers in the far corner of Hadleigh Churchyard — just beyond where I showed you so many of Cunning Murrell’s children were. There the two lay together, as they’d lain in their cradle, an’ in their bed, an’ as they lay at last under the hill, by the marshes.

  “Well, sir, they’d been in two nights when oad Bill Prentice, the sexton — Sam Prentice’s father — comin’ into the churchyard late, saw something. He saw something dark creepin’ by the new grave, almost under his feet. What it was struck his mind in a flash, an’ he chopped down on it with the edge of his spade, an’ chopped again an’ again, mad strong and chokin’ with fright; an’ the thing shrieked, sir — shrieked like a woman! An’ he chopped an’ chopped an’ chopped till he fainted dead away; an’ there they found him, with the Black Badger lying by, chopped an’ mangled an’ dead, but plain to tell for the same badger Dan Cloyse had trapped.