CHAPTER IX
_A Discovery and a Chase_
The supper was ready laid, the chairs were drawn round the table,bottles, jugs, and glasses were arranged upon the sideboard, andeverything betokened the approach of the most convivial period in thewhole four-and-twenty hours.
"Where's Rachael?" said Mr. Wardle.
"Ay, and Jingle?" added Mr. Pickwick.
"Dear me," said the host, "I wonder I haven't missed him before. Why,I don't think I have heard his voice for two hours at least. Emily, mydear, ring the bell."
The bell was rung, and the fat boy appeared.
"Where's Miss Rachael?" He couldn't say.
"Where's Mr. Jingle, then?" He didn't know.
Everybody looked surprised. It was late--past eleven o'clock. Mr.Tupman laughed in his sleeve. They were loitering somewhere, talkingabout _him_. Ha, ha! capital notion that--funny.
"Never mind," said Wardle, after a short pause, "they'll turn uppresently, I dare say. I never wait supper for anybody."
"Excellent rule that," said Mr. Pickwick, "admirable."
"Pray, sit down," said the host.
"Certainly," said Mr. Pickwick: and down they sat.
There was a gigantic round of cold beef on the table, and Mr. Pickwickwas supplied with a plentiful portion of it. He had raised his forkto his lips, and was on the very point of opening his mouth for thereception of a piece of beef, when the hum of many voices suddenlyarose in the kitchen. He paused, and laid down his fork. Mr. Wardlepaused too, and insensibly released his hold of the carving-knife,which remained inserted in the beef. He looked at Mr. Pickwick. Mr.Pickwick looked at him.
Heavy footsteps were heard in the passage; the parlour door wassuddenly burst open; and the man who had cleaned Mr. Pickwick's bootson his first arrival, rushed into the room, followed by the fat boy,and all the domestics.
"What the devil's the meaning of all this?" exclaimed the host.
"The kitchen chimney a'n't a-fire, is it, Emma?" inquired the old lady.
"Lor, grandma! No," screamed both the young ladies.
"What's the matter?" roared the master of the house.
The man gasped for breath, and faintly ejaculated--
"They ha' gone, Mas'r!--gone right clean off, sir!" (At this junctureMr. Tupman was observed to lay down his knife and fork, and to turnvery pale.)
"_Here I am; but I han't a willin_"]
"Who's gone?" said Mr. Wardle, fiercely.
"Mus'r Jingle and Miss Rachael, in a po'-chay, from Blue Lion,Muggleton. I was there; but I couldn't stop 'em; so I run off totell'ee."
"I paid his expenses!" said Mr. Tupman, jumping up frantically. "He'sgot ten pounds of mine!--stop him!--he's swindled me!--I won't bearit!--I'll have justice, Pickwick!--I won't stand it!" and with sundryincoherent exclamations of the like nature, the unhappy gentleman spunround and round the apartment, in a transport of frenzy.
"Lord preserve us!" ejaculated Mr. Pickwick, eyeing the extraordinarygestures of his friend with terrified surprise. "He's gone mad! Whatshall we do!"
"Do!" said the stout old host, who regarded only the last words of thesentence. "Put the horse in the gig! I'll get a chaise at the Lion,and follow 'em instantly. Where"--he exclaimed, as the man ran out toexecute the commission--"Where's that villain Joe?"
"Here I am; but I han't a willin," replied a voice. It was the fatboy's.
"Let me get at him, Pickwick," cried Wardle, as he rushed at theill-starred youth. "He was bribed by that scoundrel, Jingle, to put meon a wrong scent, by telling a cock-and-a-bull story of my sister andyour friend Tupman!" (Here Mr. Tupman sunk into a chair.) "Let me getat him!"
"Don't let him!" screamed all the women, above whose exclamations theblubbering of the fat boy was distinctly audible.
"I won't be held!" cried the old man. "Mr. Winkle, take your hands off.Mr. Pickwick, let me go, sir!"
It was a beautiful sight, in that moment of turmoil and confusion,to behold the placid and philosophical expression of Mr. Pickwick'sface, albeit somewhat flushed with exertion, as he stood with his armsfirmly clasped round the extensive waist of their corpulent host, thusrestraining the impetuosity of his passion, while the fat boy wasscratched, and pulled, and pushed from the room by all the femalescongregated therein. He had no sooner released his hold, than the manentered to announce that the gig was ready.
"Don't let him go alone!" screamed the females. "He'll kill somebody!"
"I'll go with him," said Mr. Pickwick.
"You're a good fellow, Pickwick," said the host, grasping his hand."Emma, give Mr. Pickwick a shawl to tie round his neck--make haste.Look after your grandmother, girls; she has fainted away. Now then, areyou ready?"
Mr. Pickwick's mouth and chin having been hastily enveloped in a largeshawl: his hat having been put on his head, and his great coat thrownover his arm, he replied in the affirmative.
They jumped into the gig. "Give her her head, Tom," cried the host;and away they went, down the narrow lanes; jolting in and out of thecart-ruts, and bumping up against the hedges on either side, as if theywould go to pieces every moment.
"How much are they ahead?" shouted Wardle, as they drove up to thedoor of the Blue Lion, round which a little crowd had collected, lateas it was.
"Not above three-quarters of an hour," was everybody's reply.
"Chaise and four directly!--out with 'em! Put up the gig afterwards."
"Now, boys!" cried the landlord--"chaise and four out--make haste--lookalive there!"
Away ran the hostlers, and the boys. The lanterns glimmered, as the menran to and fro; the horses' hoofs clattered on the uneven paving of theyard; the chaise rumbled as it was drawn out of the coach-house; andall was noise and bustle.
"Now then!--is that chaise coming out to-night?" cried Wardle.
"Coming down the yard now, sir," replied the hostler.
Out came the chaise--in went the horses--on sprung the boys--in got thetravellers.
"Mind--the seven-mile stage in less than half-an-hour!" shouted Wardle.
"Off with you!"
The boys applied whip and spur, the waiter shouted, the hostlerscheered, and away they went, fast and furious.
"Pretty situation," thought Mr. Pickwick, when he had had a moment'stime for reflection. "Pretty situation for the General Chairman of thePickwick Club. Damp chaise--strange horses--fifteen miles an hour--andtwelve o'clock at night!"
For the first three or four miles not a word was spoken by either ofthe gentlemen, each being too much immersed in his own reflections toaddress any observations to his companion. When they had gone overthat much ground, however, and the horses getting thoroughly warmedbegan to do their work in really good style, Mr. Pickwick became toomuch exhilarated with the rapidity of the motion, to remain any longerperfectly mute.
"We're sure to catch them, I think," said he.
"Hope so," replied his companion.
"Fine night," said Mr. Pickwick, looking up at the moon, which wasshining brightly.
"So much the worse," returned Wardle; "for they'll have had all theadvantage of the moonlight to get the start of us, and we shall loseit. It will have gone down in another hour."
"It will be rather unpleasant going at this rate in the dark, won'tit?" inquired Mr. Pickwick.
"I daresay it will," replied his friend, drily.
Mr. Pickwick's temporary excitement began to sober down a little, ashe reflected upon the inconveniences and dangers of the expeditionin which he had so thoughtlessly embarked. He was roused by a loudshouting of the post-boy on the leader.
"Yo--yo--yo--yo--yoe!" went the first boy.
"Yo--yo--yo--yoe!" went the second.
"Yo--yo--yo--yoe!" chimed in old Wardle himself, most lustily, with hishead and half his body out of the coach window.
"Yo--yo--yo--yoe!" shouted Mr. Pickwick, taking up the burden of thecry, though he had not the slightest notion of its meaning or object.And amidst the yo--yoing of the whole four, the chaise stopped.
> "What's the matter?" inquired Mr. Pickwick.
"There's a gate here," replied old Wardle. "We shall hear something ofthe fugitives."
After a lapse of five minutes, consumed in incessant knocking andshouting, an old man in his shirt and trousers emerged from theturnpike-house, and opened the gate.
"How long is it since a post-chaise went through here?" inquired Mr.Wardle.
"How long?"
"Ah!"
"Why, I don't rightly know. It worn't a long time ago, nor it worn't ashort time ago--just between the two, perhaps."
"Has any chaise been by at all?"
"Oh yes, there's been a shay by."
"How long ago, my friend," interposed Mr. Pickwick, "an hour?"
"Ah, I daresay it might be," replied the man.
"Or two hours?" inquired the post-boy on the wheeler.
"Well, I shouldn't wonder if it was," returned the old man, doubtfully.
"Drive on, boys," cried the testy old gentleman: "don't waste any moretime with that old idiot!"
"Idiot!" exclaimed the old man with a grin, as he stood in the middleof the road with the gate half-closed, watching the chaise whichrapidly diminished in the increasing distance. "No--not much o'that either; you've lost ten minutes here, and gone away as wise asyou came, arter all. If every man on the line as has a guinea givehim, earns it half as well, you won't catch t'other shay this sideMich'lmas, old short-and-fat." And with another prolonged grin, the oldman closed the gate, re-entered his house, and bolted the door afterhim.
Meanwhile the chaise proceeded, without any slackening of pace, towardsthe conclusion of the stage. The moon, as Wardle had foretold, wasrapidly on the wane; large tiers of dark heavy clouds, which had beengradually overspreading the sky for some time past, now formed oneblack mass over head; and large drops of rain which pattered everynow and then against the windows of the chaise, seemed to warn thetravellers of the rapid approach of a stormy night. The wind, too,which was directly against them, swept in furious gusts down the narrowroad, and howled dismally through the trees which skirted the pathway.Mr. Pickwick drew his coat closer about him, coiled himself more snuglyup into the corner of the chaise, and fell into a sound sleep, fromwhich he was only awakened by the stopping of the vehicle, the sound ofthe hostler's bell, and a loud cry of "Horses on directly!"
But here another delay occurred. The boys were sleeping with suchmysterious soundness, that it took five minutes apiece to wake them.The hostler had somehow or other mislaid the key of the stable, andeven when that was found, two sleepy helpers put the wrong harness onthe wrong horses, and the whole process of harnessing had to be gonethrough afresh. Had Mr. Pickwick been alone, these multiplied obstacleswould have completely put an end to the pursuit at once, but old Wardlewas not to be so easily daunted; and he laid about him with such heartygood-will, cuffing this man, and pushing that; strapping a bucklehere, and taking in a link there, that the chaise was ready in a muchshorter time than could reasonably have been expected under so manydifficulties.
They resumed their journey; and certainly the prospect before them wasby no means encouraging. The stage was fifteen miles long, the nightwas dark, the wind high, and the rain pouring in torrents. It wasimpossible to make any great way against such obstacles united; it washard upon one o'clock already; and nearly two hours were consumed ingetting to the end of the stage. Here, however, an object presenteditself, which rekindled their hopes, and reanimated their droopingspirits.
"When did this chaise come in?" cried old Wardle, leaping out of hisown vehicle, and pointing to one covered with wet mud, which wasstanding in the yard.
"Not a quarter of an hour ago, sir," replied the hostler, to whom thequestion was addressed.
"Lady and gentleman?" inquired Wardle, almost breathless withimpatience.
"Yes, sir."
"Tall gentleman--dress coat--long legs--thin body?"
"Yes, sir."
"Elderly lady--thin face--rather skinny--eh?"
"Yes, sir."
"By heavens! it's the couple, Pickwick," exclaimed the old gentleman.
"Would have been here before," said the hostler, "but they broke atrace."
"It is!" said Wardle, "it is, by Jove! Chaise and four instantly!We shall catch them yet, before they reach the next stage. A guineaa-piece, boys--be alive there--bustle about--there's good fellows."
And with such admonitions as these, the old gentleman ran up and downthe yard, and bustled to and fro, in a state of excitement whichcommunicated itself to Mr. Pickwick also; and under the influence ofwhich, that gentleman got himself into complicated entanglements withharness, and mixed up with horses and wheels of chaises, in the mostsurprising manner, firmly believing that by so doing he was materiallyforwarding the preparations for their resuming their journey.
"Jump in--jump in!" cried old Wardle, climbing into the chaise,pulling up the steps, and slamming the door after him. "Come along!Make haste!" And before Mr. Pickwick knew precisely what he was about,he felt himself forced in at the other door, by one pull from the oldgentleman, and one push from the hostler; and off they were again.
"Ah! we _are_ moving now," said the old gentleman exultingly. They wereindeed, as was sufficiently testified to Mr. Pickwick, by his constantcollisions either with the hard woodwork of the chaise, or the body ofhis companion.
"Hold up!" said the stout old Mr. Wardle, as Mr. Pickwick dived headforemost into his capacious waistcoat.
"I never did feel such a jolting in my life," said Mr. Pickwick.
"Never mind," replied his companion, "it will soon be over. Steady,steady."
Mr. Pickwick planted himself into his own corner, as firmly as hecould; and on whirled the chaise faster than ever.
They had travelled in this way about three miles, when Mr. Wardle, whohad been looking out of the window for two or three minutes, suddenlydrew in his face, covered with splashes, and exclaimed in breathlesseagerness--
"Here they are!"
Mr. Pickwick thrust his head out of his window. Yes: there was a chaiseand four, a short distance before them, dashing along at full gallop.
"Go on, go on," almost shrieked the old gentleman. "Two guineasa-piece, boys--don't let 'em gain on us--keep it up--keep it up."
The horses in the first chaise started on at their utmost speed; andthose in Mr. Wardle's galloped furiously behind them.
"I see his head," exclaimed the choleric old man, "damme, I see hishead."
"So do I," said Mr. Pickwick, "that's he."
Mr. Pickwick was not mistaken. The countenance of Mr. Jingle,completely coated with the mud thrown up by the wheels, was plainlydiscernible at the window of his chaise; and the motion of his arm,which he was waving violently towards the postilions, denoted that hewas encouraging them to increased exertion.
The interest was intense. Fields, trees, and hedges seemed to rushpast them with the velocity of a whirlwind, so rapid was the paceat which they tore along. They were close by the side of the firstchaise. Jingle's voice could be plainly heard, even above the dinof the wheels, urging on the boys. Old Mr. Wardle foamed with rageand excitement. He roared out scoundrels and villains by the dozen,clenched his fist and shook it expressively at the object of hisindignation; but Mr. Jingle only answered with a contemptuous smile,and replied to his menaces by a shout of triumph, as his horses,answering the increased application of whip and spur, broke into afaster gallop, and left the pursuers behind.
Mr. Pickwick had just drawn in his head, and Mr. Wardle, exhausted withshouting, had done the same, when a tremendous jolt threw them forwardagainst the front of the vehicle. There was a sudden bump--a loudcrash--away rolled a wheel, and over went the chaise.
After a few seconds of bewilderment and confusion, in which nothing butthe plunging of horses, and breaking of glass, could be made out, Mr.Pickwick felt himself violently pulled out from among the ruins of thechaise; and as soon as he had gained his feet, extricated his head fromthe skirts of his great-coat, which materially impeded
the usefulnessof his spectacles, the full disaster of the case met his view.
Old Mr. Wardle without a hat, and his clothes torn in several places,stood by his side, and the fragments of the chaise lay scattered attheir feet. The post-boys, who had succeeded in cutting the traces,were standing, disfigured with mud and disordered by hard riding, bythe horses' heads. About a hundred yards in advance was the otherchaise, which had pulled up on hearing the crash. The postilions, eachwith a broad grin convulsing his countenance, were viewing the adverseparty from their saddles, and Mr. Jingle was contemplating the wreckfrom the coach-window with evident satisfaction. The day was justbreaking, and the whole scene was rendered perfectly visible by thegrey light of the morning.
"Hallo!" shouted the shameless Jingle, "anybody damaged?--elderlygentlemen--no light weights--dangerous work--very."
_"Love to Tuppy--won't you get up behind?--drive on,boys," replied Jingle._]
"You're a rascal!" roared Wardle.
"Ha! ha!" replied Jingle; and then he added, with a knowing wink,and a jerk of the thumb towards the interior of the chaise--"Isay--she's very well--desires her compliments--begs you won't troubleyourself--love to _Tuppy_--won't you get up behind?--drive on, boys."
The postilions resumed their proper attitudes, and away rattled thechaise, Mr. Jingle fluttering in derision a white handkerchief from thecoach-window.
Nothing in the whole adventure, not even the upset, had disturbedthe calm and equable current of Mr. Pickwick's temper. The villainy,however, which could first borrow money of his faithful follower, andthen abbreviate his name to "Tuppy," was more than he could patientlybear. He drew his breath hard, and coloured up to the very tips of hisspectacles, as he said, slowly and emphatically--
"If ever I meet that man again, I'll----"
"Yes, yes," interrupted Wardle, "that's all very well: but while westand talking here, they'll get their licence, and be married inLondon."
Mr. Pickwick paused, bottled up his vengeance, and corked it down.
"How far is it to the next stage?" inquired Mr. Wardle of one of theboys.
"Six mile, an't it, Tom?"
"Rayther better."
"Rayther better nor six mile, sir."
"Can't be helped," said Wardle, "we must walk it, Pickwick."
"No help for it," replied that truly great man.
So sending forward one of the boys on horseback to procure a freshchaise and horses, and leaving the other behind to take care of thebroken one, Mr. Pickwick and Mr. Wardle set manfully forward on thewalk, first tying their shawls round their necks, and slouching downtheir hats to escape as much as possible from the deluge of rain, whichafter a slight cessation had again begun to pour heavily down.
The Posthumous Papers of the Pickwick Club, v. 1 (of 2) Page 11