CHAPTER VIII
HOW FRANCIS BACON CHEATED THE BAILIFFS
It was at about this time that Copernicus Droop finally awakened. He layperfectly still for a minute or two, wondering where he was and what hadhappened. Then he began to mutter to himself.
"Machinery's stopped, so we're on dry land," he said. Then, starting upon one elbow, he listened intently.
Within the air-ship all was perfect silence, but from without there camein faintly occasional symptoms of life--the bark of a dog, a loud laugh,the cry of a child.
Droop slowly came to his feet and gazed about. A faint gleam of daylightfound its way past the closed shutters. He raised the blinds and blinkedas he gazed out into a perfect thicket of trees and shrubbery, beyondwhich here and there he thought he could distinguish a high brick wall.
"Well, we're in the country, anyhow!" he muttered.
He turned and consulted the date indicator in the ceiling.
"May 1, 1598," he said. "Great Jonah! but we hev whirled back ferkeeps! I s'pose we jest whirled till she broke loose."
He gazed about him and observed that the two state-room doors were open.He walked over and looked in.
"I wonder where them women went," he said. "Seems like they were in atremendous hurry 'bout gettin' way. Lucky 'tain't a city we're in,'cause they might'v got lost in the city."
After an attempt to improve his somewhat rumpled exterior, he made hisway down the stairs and out into the garden. Once here, he quicklydiscovered the building which had arrested the attention of the twowomen, but it being now broad daylight, he was able thoroughly tosatisfy himself that chance had brought the Panchronicon into thedeserted garden of a deserted mansion.
"Wal, we'll be private an' cosy here till the Panchronicon hez time tostore up more force," he said out loud.
Strolling forward, he skirted the high wall, and ere long discovered thevery opening through which the sisters had passed at sunrise.
Stepping through the breach, he found himself, as they had done, nearthe main London highway in Newington village. The hurly-burly of sunrisehad abated by this time, for wellnigh all the villagers were absentcelebrating the day around their respective May-poles or at bear orbull-baiting.
With his hands behind him, he walked soberly up and down for a fewminutes, carefully surveying the pretty wooden houses, the church in thedistance, and the stones of the churchyard on the green hill-slopebeyond. The architecture was not entirely unfamiliar. He had seen suchin books, he felt sure, but he could not positively identify it. Was itRussian, Japanese, or Italian?
Suddenly a distant cry came to his ears.
"Hi--Lizzie--Lizzie, wench! Come, drive the pig out o' the cabbages!"
He stopped short and slapped his thigh.
"English!" he exclaimed. "'Tain't America, that's dead sure. Then it'sEngland. England in 1598," he continued, scratching his head. "Let'ssee. Who in Sam Hill was runnin' things in 1598? Richard Coor deLion--Henry Eight--no--or was it Joan of Arc? Be darned ef I know!"
He looked about him again and selected a neighboring house which hethought promised information.
He went to the front door and knocked. There was no reply, despite manyattempts to arouse the inmates.
"Might ha' known," he muttered, and started around the house, where hefound a side door half hidden beneath the projection of an upper story.
Here his efforts were rewarded at last by the appearance of a very oldwoman in a peaked hat and coif, apparently on the point of going out.
"Looks like a witch in the story-books," he thought, but his spokencomment was more polite.
"Good-mornin', ma'am," he said. "Would you be so kind as to tell me thename of this town?"
"This be Newington," she replied, in a high, cracked voice.
"Newington," he replied, with a nod and a smile intended to expresscomplete enlightenment. "Ah, yes--Newington. Quite a town!"
"Is that all you'd be askin', young man?" said the old woman, a littlesuspiciously, eying his strange garb.
"Why, yes--no--that is, can you tell me how far it is to London?" Thiswas the only English city of which he had any knowledge, so he naturallysought to identify his locality by reference to it.
"Lunnun," said the woman. "Oh, it'll be a matter of a mile or better!"
Droop was startled, but highly pleased. Here was luck indeed.
"Thank you, ma'am," he said. "Good-mornin'," and with a cheerful nod, hemade off.
The fact is that this information opened up a new field of enterpriseand hope. At once there leaped into his mind an improved revival of hisoriginal plan. If he could have made a fortune with his great inventionsin 1876, what might he not accomplish by the same means in 1598! Hepictured to himself the delight of the ancient worthies when they heardthe rag-time airs and minstrel jokes produced by his phonograph.
"By hockey!" he exclaimed, in irrepressible delight, "I'll make theirgol darned eyes pop out!"
As he marched up and down in the deserted garden, hidden by the friendlybrick wall, he bitterly regretted that he had limited himself to so fewmodern inventions.
"Ef I'd only known I was comin' this fur back!" he exclaimed, as hetalked to himself that he might feel less lonely. "Ef I'd only known, Icould hev brought a heap of other things jest's well as not. Might hevtaught 'em 'bout telegraphin' an' telephones. Could ha' given 'emsteam-engines an' parlor matches. By ginger!" he exclaimed, "I b'lieveI've got some parlor matches. Great Jehosaphat! Won't I get rich!"
But at this a new difficulty presented itself to his mind. He foresaw notrouble in procuring patents for his inventions, but how about thecapital for their exploitation? Presumably this was quite as necessaryhere in England as it would have been in America in 1876. Unfortunately,his original plan was impossible of fulfilment. Rebecca had failed himas a capitalist. Besides, she and Phoebe had both completelydisappeared.
It was long before he saw his way out of this difficulty, but by dint ofpersistent pondering he finally lit upon a plan.
He had brought with him a camera, several hundred plates, and a completedeveloping and printing outfit. He determined to set up as aprofessional photographer. His living would cost him nothing, as thePanchronicon was well stored with provisions. To judge by hissurroundings, his privacy would probably be respected. Then, by settingup as a photographer he would at least earn a small amount of currentcoin and perhaps attract some rich and powerful backer by the noveltyand excellence of his process. On this chance he relied for procuringthe capital which was undoubtedly necessary for his purpose.
By noon of the next day he had begun operations, having taken two orthree views of familiar scenes in the neighborhood, which he affixed assamples to a large cardboard sign on which he had printed, in largetype:
---------------------------------------------------------------- | | | AMERICAN PHOTOGRAPHER | | | | THE ONLY ONE IN EXISTENCE | | | | _Step up and have your picture taken_ | | | ----------------------------------------------------------------
This sign he nailed to a tree near the road which he made hisheadquarters. He preferred to keep the location and nature of his abodea secret, and so spent his days under his tree or sitting in the porchof some neighboring house, for he was not long in making friends, andhis marvellous tales made him very popular.
It was difficult for him to fix a price at first, not being acquaintedwith the coin of the realm, but he put his whole mind to the acquisitionof reliable information on this point, and his native shrewdness broughthim success.
He found that it was wisest for every reason to let it be believed thatthe pictures were produced by hand. The camera, he explained, was a mereaid to accuracy of observation and memory in re
production of what he sawthrough it. Thus he was able to command much higher prices for theexcellence and perfection of his work and, had he but known it, furtheravoided suspicion of witchcraft which would probably have attached tohim had he let it be known that the camera really produced the picture.
In the course of his daily gossip with neighbors and with the customers,rustic and urban, who were attracted by his fame, he soon learned that"Good Queen Bess" ruled the land, and his speech gradually took on atinge of the Elizabethan manner and vocabulary which, mingling with hisnative New England idioms, produced a very picturesque effect.
It was a warm night some weeks after Droop had "hung out his shingle" asa professional photographer that he sat in the main room of thePanchronicon, reading for perhaps the twentieth time Phoebe's famousbook on Bacon and Shakespeare, which she had left behind. The otherbooks on hand he found too dry, and he whiled away his idle hours withthis invaluable historic work, feeling that its tone was in harmony withhis recent experiences.
So to-night he was reading with the shutters tightly closed to preventattracting the gaze of outsiders. No one had yet discovered hisresidence, and he had flattered himself that it would remain permanentlya secret.
His surprise and consternation were great, therefore, when he wassuddenly disturbed in his reading by a gentle knocking on the door atthe foot of the stairs.
"Great Jonah!" he exclaimed, closing his book and cocking his head tolisten. "Now, who--wonder ef it's Cousin Rebecca or Phoebe!"
The knock was repeated.
"Why, 'f course 'tis!" he said. "Couldn't be anybody else. Funny theynever come back sooner!"
He laid his book upon the table and started down the stairs just as theknocking was heard for the third time.
"Comin'--comin'!" he cried. "Save the pieces!"
He threw open the door and started back in alarm as there entered astrange man wrapped in a black cloak, which he held so as to completelyhide his features.
The new-comer sprang into the little hallway and hastily closed the doorbehind him.
"Close in the light, friend," he said.
Then, glancing about him, he ascended the stairs and entered the mainroom above.
Droop followed him closely, rubbing his hand through his hair inperplexity. This intrusion threatened to spoil his plans. It wouldnever do to have the neighbors swarming around the Panchronicon.
The stranger threw off his cloak on entering the upper room and turnedto face his host.
"I owe you sincere acknowledgment of thanks, good sir," he said,gravely.
He appeared to be about thirty-five years of age, a man of mediumstature, dark of hair and eyes, with a pale, intellectual face and aclose-clipped beard. His entire apparel was black, save for hiswell-starched ruff of moderate depth and the lace ruffles at his wrists.
"Wal, I dunno," Droop retorted. "Marry, an I hed known as thou wast notan acquaintance----"
"You would not have given me admittance?"
The calm, dark eyes gazed with disconcerting steadiness into Droop'sface.
"Oh--well--I ain't sayin'----"
"I hope I have not intruded to your hurt or serious confusion, friend,"said the stranger, glancing about him. "To tell the very truth, yourhospitable shelter hath offered itself in the hour of need."
"What--doth it raineth--eh?"
"Oh, no!"
"What can I do fer ye? Take a seat," said Droop, as the stranger droppedinto a chair. "Thou knowest, forsooth, that I don't take photygraphs atnight--marry, no!"
"Are you, then, the new limner who makes pictures by aid of the box andglass?"
"Yea--that's what I am," said Droop.
"I was ignorant of the location of your dwelling. Indeed, it is pureaccident--a trick of Fortune that hath brought me to your doorto-night."
Droop seated himself and directed an interrogative gaze at his visitor.
"My name's Droop--Copernicus Droop," he said. "An' you----"
"My name is Francis Bacon, Master Droop--your servitor," he bowedslightly.
Droop started up stiff and straight in his chair.
"Francis Bacon!" he exclaimed. "What! Not the one as wrote Shakespeare?"
"Shakespeare--Shakespeare!" said the stranger, in a slow, puzzled tone."I do admit having made some humble essays in writing--certainmodest commentaries upon human motives and relations--but, in goodsooth, the title you have named, Master Droop, is unknown to me.Shakespeare--Shakespeare. Pray, sir, is it a homily or an essay?"
"Why, ye see, et's--as fur's I know it's a man--a sorter poet or geniusor play-writin' man," said Droop, somewhat confused.
"A man--a poet--a genius?" Bacon repeated, gravely. "Then, prithee,friend, how meant you in saying you thought me him who had writtenShakespeare? Can a man--a poet--be written?"
"Nay--verily--in good sooth--marry, no!" stuttered Droop. "What theymean is thet 'twas you wrote the things Shakespeare put his nameto--you did, didn't you?"
"Ahem!" said the stranger, with dubious slowness. "A poet--a genius, yousay? And I understand that I am reputed to have been the true authorof--eh?"
"Yes, indeed--yea--la!" exclaimed Droop, now sadly confused.
"Might I ask the name of some work imputed to me, and which this--thisShake--eh----"
"Shakespeare."
"Ay, this Shakespeare hath impudently claimed for his own credit andreputation?"
"Well--why--suffer me--jest wait a minute," said Droop. He clutched thebook he had been reading and opened it at random. "Here," he said."'Love's Labor's Lost,' for instance."
"What!" exclaimed Bacon, starting indignantly to his feet. "'Tis but asennight I saw this same dull nonsense played by the Lord Chamberlain'splayers. 'Love's Labor's--" he broke off and repressed his choler withsome effort. Then in a slow, grave voice he continued: "Why, sir, youhave been sadly abused. Surely the few essays I have made in the fieldof letters may stand my warrant that I should not so demean myself as isimplied in this repute of me. Pray tell me, sir, who are they that sobesmirch my reputation as to impute to my poor authority the pitifullines of this rascal player?"
"Why, in very truth--marry, it's in that book. It was printed inChicago."
Bacon glanced contemptuously at the volume without deigning to open it.
"And prithee, Master Droop, where may Chicago be?"
"Why it _was_ in--no! I mean it will be--oh, darn it all! Chicago's inIllinois."
"Illinois--yes--and Illinois?" Bacon's dark eyes were turned in gravequestion upon his companion.
"Why, that's in America, ye know."
"Oh!" said Bacon. Then, with a sigh of great relief: "Ah!" he exclaimed.
"Yea, verily--in sooth--or--or thereabouts," said Droop, not knowingwhat to say.
"Ah, in America! A land of heathen savages--red-skinned hunters of men.Yes--yes! 'Twere not impossible such persons might so misapprehend mypowers. 'Twould lie well within their shallow incapacities, methinks, toimpute to Francis Bacon, Barrister of Gray's Inn, Member of Parliamentfor Melcombe, Reversionary Clerk of the Star Chamber, the friend of theEarl of Essex--to impute to me, I say, these frothings of a villainplayer--this Shake--eh? What?"
"Shakespeare."
"Ay."
Bacon paced placidly up and down for a few moments, while Droop followedhim apologetically with his eyes. Evidently this was a most importantpersonage. It behooved him to conciliate such a power as this. Who couldtell! Perhaps this friend of the Earl of Essex might be the capitalistfor whom he was in search.
For some time Master Bacon paced back and forth in silence, evidentlywrapped in his own thoughts. In the meantime Droop's hopes rose higherand higher, and at length he could no longer contain himself.
"Why, Master Bacon," he said, "I'm clean surprised--yea, marry, amI--that anybody could hev ben sech a fool--a--eh? Well, aloon--what?--as to hev said you wrote Shakespeare. You're a man o'science--that's what you are. You don't concern yourself with notrumpery poetry. I can see that stickin' out."
Bacon was st
artled and examined himself hurriedly.
"What!" he exclaimed, "what is sticking out, friend?"
"Oh, I was jest sayin' it in the sense of the word!" said Droop,apologetically. "What I mean is, it's clear that you're not a triflin'poet, but a man of science--eh?"
"Why, no. I do claim some capacity in the diviner flights of lyricletters, friend. You are not to despise poetry. Nay--rather contemnthose who bring scorn to the name of poet--vain writers for filthypence--fellows like this same Shakespeare."
"Yes--that's what I meant," said Droop, anxious to come to the point."But your high-water mark is science--philosophy--all that. Now, you'resomethin' of a capitalist, too, I surmise."
He paused expectant.
"A what, friend?"
"Why, you're in some Trust er other, ain't ye?--Member of Congress--Imean Parlyment--friend of Lord What's-'is-name--Clerk of theStar--suthin' or other. Guess you're pretty middlin' rich, ain't ye?"
Bacon's face grew long at these words, and he seated himself in evidentmelancholy.
"Why, to speak truth, friend," he said, "I find myself at this moment inserious straits. Indeed, 'tis an affair of a debt that hath driven methus to your door."
"A debt!" said Droop, his heart sinking.
"Ay. The plain truth is, that at this moment I am followed by twobailiffs--bearers of an execution of arrest upon my person. 'Twas toevade these fellows that I entered this deserted garden, leaving myhorse without. 'Tis for this cause I am here. Now, Master Droop, youknow the whole truth."
"Great Jonah!" said Droop, helplessly. "But didn't you say you hadfriends?"
"None better, Master Droop. My uncle is Lord Burleigh--Lord HighTreasurer to her Gracious Majesty. My patron is the Earl of Essex----"
"Why don't they give ye a lift?"
Bacon's face grew graver.
"Essex is away," he said. "On his return my necessities will be speedilyrelieved. As for mine uncle, to him have I applied; but his lordshiplives in the sunshine of her Majesty's smiles, and he cannot be toosudden in aid of Francis Bacon for fear of losing the Queen's favorelse."
"Why so?"
"A long tale of politics, friend. A speech made by me in Parliament inopposing monopolies."
"Oh!" said Droop, dismally. "You're down on monopolies, air ye?"
Bacon turned a wary eye upon his companion.
"Why ask you this?" he said.
"Why, only to--" He paused. "To say sooth," he continued, with suddenresolution, "I want to get a monopoly myself--two or three of 'em. I'vegot some A1 inventions here, an' I want to get 'em patented. I thought,perhaps, you or your friends might help me."
"Ah!" Bacon exclaimed, with awakening interest. "You seek my influencein furtherance of these designs. Do I apprehend you?"
"That's jest it," said Droop.
"And what would be the--ahem--the recognition which----"
"Why, you'd git a quarter interest in the hull business," said Droop,hopefully. "That is, provided you've got the inflooence, ye know."
"Too slight--too slight for Francis Bacon, Master Droop."
Copernicus thought rapidly for a minute or two. Then he pretendedindifference.
"Oh, very good!" he said. "I'll take up with Sir ThomasThingumbob--What's-'is-name."
Bacon pretended to accept the decision and changed the subject.
"Now permit me to approach the theme of my immediate need," he said."These bailiffs without--they must be evaded. May I have yourassistance, friend, in this matter?"
"Why--what can I do?"
"Pray observe me with all attention," Bacon began. "These my habilimentsare of the latest fashion and of rich texture. Your habit is, if I mayso speak, of inferior fashion and substance. I will exchange my habitfor yours on this condition--that you mount my horse forthwith and rideaway. The moon is bright and you will be pursued at once by these scurvybailiffs. Lead them astray, Master Droop, to the southward, whilst Islip away to London in your attire, wherein I feel sure no man willrecognize me. Once in London, there is a friend of mine--one MasterIsaac Burton--who is hourly expected and from whom I count upon havingsome advances to stand me in present stead. What say you? Will youaccept new clothing and rich--for old and worn?"
Droop approached his visitor and slowly examined his clothing, gravelyfeeling the stuff between thumb and finger and even putting his handinside the doublet to feel the lining. Bacon's outraged dignitystruggled within him with the sense of his necessity. Finally, just ashe was about to give violent expression to his impatience, Droop steppedback and took in the general effect with one eye closed and his headcocked on one side.
"Jest turn round, will ye?" he said, with a whirling movement of thehand, "an' let me see how it looks in the back?"
Biting his lips, the furious barrister turned about and walked away.
"Needs must where the devil drives," he muttered.
Droop shook his head dismally.
"Marry, come up!" he exclaimed. "I guess I can't make the bargain,friend Bacon."
"But why?"
"I don't like the cut o' them clothes. I'd look rideec'lous in 'em.Besides, the's too much risk in it, Bacon, my boy," he said, familiarly,throwing himself into the arm-chair and stretching out his legscomfortably. "Ef the knaves was to catch me an' find out the trick I'dplayed 'em, why, sure as a gun, they'd put me in the lock-up an' try mefer stealin' your duds--your habiliments."
"Nay, then," Bacon exclaimed, eagerly, "I'll give you a writing, MasterDroop, certifying that the clothes were sold to you for a consideration.That will hold you blameless. What say you?"
"What about the horse and the saddle and bridle?"
"These are borrowed from a friend, Master Droop," said Bacon. "Theserascals know this, else had they seized them in execution."
"Ah, but won't they seize your clothes, Brother Bacon?" said Droop,slyly.
"Nay--that were unlawful. A man's attire is free from process ofexecution."
"I'll tell ye wherein I'll go ye," said Droop, with sudden animation."You give me that certificate, that bill of sale, you mentioned, andalso a first-class letter to some lord or political chap with a pull atthe Patent Office, an' I'll change clothes with ye an' fool them bailiffchaps."
"I'll e'en take your former offer, then," said Bacon, with a sigh. "Onefourth part of all profits was the proposal, was it not?"
"Oh, that's all off!" said Droop, grandly, with a wave of the hand. "IfI go out an' risk my neck in them skin-tight duds o' yourn, I get thehull profits an' you get to London safe an' sound in these New Hampshirepants."
"But, good sir----"
"Take it or leave it, friend."
"Well," said Bacon, angrily, after a few moments' hesitation, "have yourwill. Give me ink, pen, and paper."
These being produced, the barrister curiously examined the woodenpenholder and steel pen.
"Why, Master Droop," he said, "from what unknown bird have you pluckedforth this feather?"
"Feather!" Droop exclaimed. "What feather?"
"Why this?" Bacon held up the pen and holder.
"That ain't a feather. It's a pen-holder an' a steel pen, man. Say!" heexclaimed, leaning forward suddenly. "Ye hain't ben drinkin', hev ye?"
To this Bacon only replied by a dignified stare and turned in silence tothe table.
"Which you agoin' to write first," said Droop, considerately droppingthe question he had raised.
"The bill of sale."
"All right. I'd like to have ye put the one about the patent realstrong. I don't want to fail on the fust try, you know."
Bacon made no reply, but dipped his pen and set to work. In due time thetwo documents were indited and carefully signed.
"This letter is addressed to my uncle, Lord Burleigh," said Bacon. "Heis at the Palace at Greenwich, with the Queen."
"Shall I hev to take it to him myself?"
"Assuredly."
"Might hev trouble findin' him, I should think," said Droop.
"Mayhap. On more thought, 'twere better y
ou had a guide. I know a worthygentleman--one of the Queen's harbingers. Take you this letter to him,for which purpose I will e'en leave it unsealed that he may read it. Hewill conduct you to mine uncle, for he hath free access to the court."
"What's his name?"
"Sir Percevall Hart. His is the demesne with the high tower of burntbricks, near the west end of Tower Street. But stay! 'Twere better youdid seek him at the Boar's Head Tavern in Eastcheap."
"Sir Percevall Hart--Boar's Head--Eastcheap. That's in London City, Is'pose."
"Yes--yes," said Bacon, impatiently. "Any watchman or passer-by willdirect you. Now, sir, 'tis for you to fulfil your promise."
"All right," said Droop. "It's my innin's--so here goes."
In a few minutes the two men had changed their costumes and stoodlooking at each other with a very evident disrelish of their respectivesituations.
Droop held his chin high in the air to avoid contact with the stiffruff, while his companion turned up the collar of his nineteenth-centurycoat and held it together in front as though he feared taking cold.
"Why, Master Droop," said Bacon, glancing down in surprise at hisfriend's nether extremities, "what giveth that unwonted spiral look toyour legs? They be ribbed as with grievous weals."
Droop tried to look down, but his wide ruff prevented him. So he put onefoot on the table and, bringing his leg to the horizontal, gazeddismally down upon it.
"Gosh all hemlock--them's my underdrawers!" he exclaimed. "These hereding-busted long socks o' yourn air so all-fired tight the blameddrawers hez hiked up in ridges all round! Makes me look like a bunch o'bananas in a bag!" he said, crossly.
"Well--well--a truce to trivial complaints," said Bacon, hurriedly,fearful that Droop might withdraw his consent to the rescue. "Here aremy cloak and hat, friend; and now away, I pray you, and remember--rideto southward, that I may have a clear field to London."
Droop donned the hat and cloak and gazed at himself sorrowfully in theglass.
"Darned ef I don't look like a cross 'tween a Filipino and a crazycowboy!" he muttered.
"And think you I have not suffered in the exchange, Master Droop?" saidBacon, reproachfully. "In very truth, I were not worse found had Ishrunken one half within mine own doublet!"
After some further urging, Droop was induced to descend the stairs, andsoon the two men stood together at the breach in the brick wall. Theyheard the low whinnying of a horse close at hand.
"That is my steed," Bacon whispered. "You must mount with instant speedand away with all haste to the south, Master Droop."
"D'ye think I won't split these darned pants and tight socks?" saidDroop.
"Hush, friend, hush!" Bacon exclaimed. "The bailiffs must not know weare here till they see you mount and away. Nay--nay--fear not. The hoseand stockings will hold right securely, I warrant you."
"Well, so long!" said Droop, and the next moment he was in the saddle."G'lang there! Geet ap!" he shouted, slapping the horse's neck with hisbridle.
With a snort of surprise, the horse plunged forward dashing across themoonlit field. A moment later, Bacon saw two other horses leap forwardin pursuit from the dark cover of a neighboring grove.
"Good!" he exclaimed. "The lure hath taken!"
Then leaning over he rubbed his shins ruefully.
"How the night wind doth ascend within this barbarous hose!" hegrumbled.
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