The Wayfarers

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by J. C. Snaith


  CHAPTER V

  I VINDICATE THE NATIONAL CHARACTER

  The farmer held out his hand with a grin, but quite in the approvedmanner, and I seized the occasion of shaking it briefly to run over hispoints. He was extremely broad: a hard-looking, powerful fellow,apparently capable of taking a deal of punishment. But his years wereagainst him. He was considerably on the wrong side of fifty to judgeby his looks, and in height I had the advantage of a full four inches.To judge by the attitude in which he set himself, I doubted whether,whatever his experience of these encounters, he had much science torecommend him. For myself I must confess I was hugely delighted withthe whole thing, and entered into it with the spirit of a boy. A matchor a contest or a wager of any kind has ever been peculiarly acceptableto me. Indeed was it not this fondness, amounting almost to a passion,that had so largely contributed to my present position? I had always,I think, been pretty ready with my hands; had had some little practicein night affrays with footpads and persons of that kidney; hadwitnessed more than one set-to in the ring; whilst as for the matter ofscience, I had in my younger days taken so keen an interest in thisinvaluable art, as to put myself under the tutelage of acknowledgedmasters of it. Therefore I was not without a certain confidence inmyself, although there was a grim determination about the mien and airof the farmer that was not to be despised. He was unmistakably gameand full of the true fighting instinct, but his years were no friendsof his intrepidity.

  Disregarding all subtleties and finesse, as well became his blunt,rustical, honest character, we had no sooner greeted one another andgot our hands up, than the farmer came at me both hands pell-mell, withhis head down, like a bull at a gate. His onset was so fierce andsudden, that I was by no means prepared to receive it, and he had me ata decided disadvantage. He had rained in a full dozen of short-armedblows, right and left, left and right at my face, at my ribs, at mychest, ere I could even so much as find my fighting legs, or bring intoaction any little skill that I might possess. My long-unpractised wardcould not prevail at all against such an onslaught. I receivedhalf-parried blows on the mouth, which cut my lip and broke a tooth, onthe right eye which partially closed it up, and a full one in the ribs.This last was the worst of all, as for a time it deprived me somewhatof my wind and made me sob to catch my breath. And while I was meetingwith these misfortunes, the bystanding yokels, whose sympathies wereall on one side and that not mine, as you may suppose, were dancingwith delight, and shrieking their hoarse encouragement.

  "Go it, varmer. Give un pepper, give un snuff!"

  However, by this I had pulled myself together somewhat, and had found ameans of coping with this hand-over-hand style of fighting. There wasplenty of room to dodge in. This I began to make use of. Indeed itwas the only chance I had of protecting myself, for I was quiteincapable of standing up to the farmer's terrible blows. But as soonas I could find myself sufficiently to begin dancing out of his reach,the game turned at once in my favour. There was devil a bit of guileor finesse in the heart of my honest adversary. The moment I gaveground, he pursued me, hitting the air. Happily for me he was much tooslow and heavy in this kind of warfare ever to get his knuckles nearthe place he desired.

  In a little while his great jowl grew inflamed, the sweat poured offhis forehead into his eyes, his breath came short and thick, and hishitting grew gradually weaker and less sustained. It was not yet thatI went in, however. I continued to prance round and round him, therebeing plenty of room in which to do so; and at every futile blow hegrew more unsteady. But all this while I had a keen eye for myopportunity. It was coming slowly but surely, for I was well enoughversed in the matter to know better than to go so much as an inch tomeet it. I waited then with a wary patience, sometimes letting him getnearer than I need have done to encourage him in his course. Not thatthis was necessary, for the old fellow was as game as any pet of the"fancy" that ever buffed in the ring. But not again did I allow him toget his "ten commandments" home on me; I had had enough of that. Andat last having allowed him to spend himself entirely, I quicklyselected the moment of my advantage, even deliberated on it to makequite sure, and then stiffened every muscle into trim. I made apretence of closing up with him. This had the effect of luring himinto another futile rush. As he came hitting blindly, I feinted, andas he went past, my right went out at the most correct fraction of aninstant, and down went the gallant farmer into the muck of his ownbarton. The Fighting Tinker himself could not have done it moreneatly, I'll vow. But the old fellow was of a rare British mettle. Hewas no sooner down than he was up again. Apparently he was ashamed tobe seen in such a humiliating posture.

  I, for my part, had barely time to wipe away the blood that was oozingfrom my broken lip, ere the farmer was up and at me again. But I wasnot to be caught napping a second time. By this I was perfectly calmand sure of myself, for I felt that I enjoyed a command of the methodsthat were likely to bring me success. Instead of dodging from myopponent on this occasion I allowed him to come right up and literallyhurl himself on his own undoing. For again at the exact instant I gota beautiful lead on to his point, and stunned as much by the unexpectedcheck to his own impetus as by the blow itself, he fell flat on hisback. This time he lay half stunned. He made several attempts to riseimmediately, but was quite unable to do so.

  Seeing him to be somewhat the worse, his yokels ran to him, whilst Iwent too, and rendered him all the assistance that lay in my power. Helay puffing and panting in the mire of the yard, half-dazed by hisdisaster, otherwise apparently not a penny the worse. He was stillfull of fighting courage; but unfortunately he lay as weak as a childfrom the shock of the blow and the fall. Strive as he might he wasquite unable to rise. His yokels of course were at a loss to know whatto do in the circumstances, but I did what I could by propping his headon my knee, and dispatching one of the men to the house for somebrandy. And at this moment who should arrive but little Cynthia with avery white face indeed, and in such a quiver of distress as plainlysaid that she had witnessed the whole affair from the seclusion of thecowhouse.

  "Oh," says she, taking charge of the farmer at once, and sponging hisface and his breast with the cold water, "you are neither of youkilled, I hope. Oh, you pair of ruffian wretches! Have you much pain,poor farmer? Lean your head on Jack, and take things gently a little.And do you, What's-your-name? bring his coat and put over the poorman's shoulders."

  While these delicate attentions were going forward, my sturdy adversarywas recovering remarkably.

  "I'm all right, my wench," says he. "But I'm dom'd if I can stand upagain, much as I should like. Your mate's done me fair for once, and Ican tell you he's the only man hereabouts that ivver gave Joe Headishhis bellyful. Dom'd if I don't go at 'im again. Here, let be; let meget up."

  By a sudden effort he tried to rise, but immediately fell back again ina still more dilapidated state. But the arrival of the brandy did agood deal to restore him, and a little afterwards he was on his legs.Feeling himself in no condition to continue, reluctant as he was toadmit the fact, he held out his hand, and we both subscribed to thearticles of peace.

  By the time I had donned my clothes in the seclusion of the hovel, andhad emerged forth again in all the respectability of my great-coat,coat, waistcoat, and shirt, the farmer was thoroughly recovered andtalking to Cynthia in the most friendly spirit. At my appearance, sayshe:

  "I don't know who you are, young man; I don't know you from Adam, thatI don't, but I respect you. You're of the right stuff, my lad, andpretty handy with your mauleys. I ax pardon for calling you aforeigner. Whatever part you come from, and whatever your occipationmay be, dom'd if you're not as true-blood an Englishman as I am mysen.And I don't care who hears me say it."

  "I thank you, sir," says I gravely. "But I am sure the apology shouldcome from me. I on my side ask your pardon for using your cowhouse andusing your milk in the small hours of the morning."

  "Don't name it," says the farmer. "You're quite welcome to the best
I've got. And dom me if it comes to that you shall have it too. Youcome along with me, and bring the little wench as well. Purty a littlewench as ivver I see, she is so!"

  I suppose it was the rudest and coarsest invitation either of us hadever had in our lives, but it was certainly the heartiest; and thisI'll vow, there never was an invitation in this world more promptly andthankfully accepted. Indeed at the first hint of it our hearts almostleapt with joy, and then a tear sparkled in Cynthia's eyes as shecurtsied to the farmer. It was really fine to observe the behaviour ofthe honest fellow. There was not a spark of animosity in him. He hadarbitrated on the merits of the case in his own fashion, and he nowacquiesced in the result with the same game spirit with which he hadarrived at it. And I am perfectly certain for my part that there wasmore wisdom in the man's instincts of justice than may at the firstsight appear. If all the world would recognize his as the acceptedmanner of adjudicating on its private and individual grievances, itwould be found the best method, the one least likely to breed badblood, and the one most calculated to engender a mutual respect in theparties concerned. And now having delivered this superior sentiment asa sort of grace before meat, let us follow our good farmer to hisdwelling with the cheerful expedition that we did on the occasionitself.

  The excellent man, although evidently puzzled as to who we mightbe--our mode of life was certainly such as to justify his gravestsuspicions--was at great pains to conceal any doubts of our characterand occupation that he might entertain. But the moment we entered theample food-smelling kitchen of the farm, the ceiling hung if you pleasewith hams, a rare dish of bacon frizzling before the fire, and abreakfast table that to our charmed eyes was almost overborne with goodhomely and appetizing things, we had to run the gauntlet of thefarmer's wife. She was a little, keen-featured, hard-faced woman,with, as we were soon to discover, the devil of a sharp tongue. Sheruffled her feathers as soon as she saw us.

  "Lork-a-mercy!" says she, "I didn't know, Joseph, as 'ow you wasa-bringing of company to breakfast."

  "I didn't know mysen," says Joseph complacently. Then followed amoment of embarrassment. It was plainly the good man's duty to presentus to his wife. She very properly expected it of him. But as in hisown phrase he did not know us from Adam himself, he was at a loss toknow in what terms to represent us. Nor did the pause that ensued helpmatters at all. The farmer's wife had from the first, as her mannershowed, been by no means disposed to view us favourably. There wasevidently something in our appearance that had caused her to take astrong prejudice against us. One cannot be surprised that this was thecase, however, seeing that we were both unwashed, and as unkempt as wepossibly could be, whilst to add a final touch to the picture wepresented, I was embellished with a puffy and discoloured eye, and abloodied lip. These misfortunes, when her good man had madeappearances ten times more unfortunate by his hesitation, his wife wasonly too ready to take as a confirmation of her suspicions. We were apair of worthless persons, and Joseph was unable to account for thesudden impulse that had led him to bring us into that respectableabode. For if we were persons of some credit, why did not Joseph sayso at once? His wife sniffed, and after gazing at us in a mostdisconcerting manner, was moved to say:

  "Joseph, I'm surprised at you. I'll have no wicked vagabondplay-actors here. I've always done my best to keep this houserespectable, and, please God, it shall always be so. How dare youbring such people here? I'll be bound you found them sleeping in yourbarn, and then, soft-hearted fool that you are, you bring them in tobreakfast. Oh, I know; you can't deceive me. It is not enough thenthat they should trespass on your premises, lie on your hay, and robyour hen-roosts, but you must encourage 'em in it into the bargain, andbring them into this clean, wholesome kitchen that you know I've alwaystook such a pride in."

  The farmer turned as red as a cabbage. In his heart he was bound toadmit that every word his wife uttered was true in substance. But hewas a very honest fellow; and though he might feel that he was greatlyto blame for taking a couple of vagrants so much under his wing, he wasnot the man to go back on his hospitality. He stood by us nobly.

  "Wife," says he, "what words be these? If I choose to ask a lady andgentleman to come and sit at table with me, shall my own wife insultthem lo their faces?"

  "Lady and gentleman!" says the redoubtable wife. "A pretty sort oflady and gentleman, ain't they? A brazen madam with a hat on. Oh, andcurls too! Lord, look at her! If she's not a play-actress I've neverseen one. And what a bully of a rogue she has got with her, too. Hathhe not the very visnomy of a footpad? He's lately escaped from NewgateGaol, I'll take my oath on't."

  There could be no doubt that this good lady was blest with a tongue ofthe sharpest kind. Her husband was terribly put out by it. Poorlittle Cynthia was, too. For all her high breeding and her modishLondon insolence, which in circumstances favourable to it was wont tosit so charmingly upon her, she could hardly restrain her tears. Isuppose it is that a woman can never bear to be ridiculed, or abused,or put in a false position. The poor child trembled and clung to myarm, while her face grew pink and white by turns.

  "Oh, Jack," she whispered, "do say something that will put us right.Tell them who we are. I cannot bear to be spoken to like this."

  "You surely would not have me spoil the comedy just now?" says I. "Iam enjoying it vastly."

  In sooth I was. I dare say it is that I am always keenly alive tothese odd passages in life, and that I am more prone to seize thewhimsicality of a matter than is a person of a better gravity. I vowit was finer than a play to me to witness a highly rustical farmer andhis spouse violently quarrelling because Mr. Chawbacon had degraded hisrural abode by bringing a duke's daughter into it. And here was thestorm growing shriller, the farmer redder and angrier, and poor littleCynthia ready to faint with the humiliation of it all.

  The state of the case was not improved when the farmer turned his backon his wife in the middle of her invective. And doubtless to definehis opinion of her behaviour and to show that he was determined tostand by us, come what might, he very civilly asked us whether we wouldcare to have some hot water from the kettle and go upstairs and performour ablutions. You may guess with what alacrity we accepted thisinvitation; indeed nothing could have better accorded with our needsand our wishes. But no sooner had the farmer spoken to this tenor thanMistress Headish broke out shriller than before:

  "What can you be thinking of, Joseph Headish?" says she. "Do you thinkI would trust two such rapscallion persons out of my sight in our cleanupper chambers, and so many things to tempt their honesty in them, too?No; if they want to wash themselves, they must do it at the pump in theyard, as their betters have had to do often enough. And why peoplelike that, leading the vagrant, masterless life they do, should requireto wash themselves at all, I don't know. And as you have promised thema bite to eat, they shall have it, after they have washed themselves.But not in my nice clean kitchen. I'll send 'em out half a loaf ofbread and a piece of cold bacon, and a mug of my good October ale, andthey can take it sitting on the pump, and think themselves lucky to getit too."

  "Peace, woman," says the farmer, in a voice of such dudgeon as did himthe highest credit. "Are you the master in this house, or am I?"

  To emphasize the inquiry he brought his hand down with such a forceupon the breakfast-table as set the dishes rattling; whilst heindicated the answer by peremptorily bidding us follow him upstairs.This we were in something of a hurry to do, and we soon found ourselvesin a spacious bed-chamber, which smelt of cleanliness to such an extentthat, knowing how very ill our own persons must consort with it, webegan to feel that the farmer's wife was justified of her grievances.That worthy shrew, having thoroughly aroused her honest husband, didnot think fit to interpose any active resistance to his commands, butcontented herself by staying below, and in delivering a shrillmonologue from the foot of the stairs.

 

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