A Story

by William Makepeace Thackeray

landlord, the guests, and the liquor--to remark the sprawl of his

  mighty jack-boots, before the sweep of which the timid guests edged

  farther and farther away; and the languishing leers which he cast on

  the landlady, as with wide-spread arms he attempted to seize upon

  her.

  When the ostler had done his duties in the stable, he entered the

  inn, and whispered the landlord that "the stranger was riding John

  Hayes's horse:" of which fact the host soon convinced himself, and

  did not fail to have some suspicions of his guest. Had he not

  thought that times were unquiet, horses might be sold, and one man's

  money was as good as another's, he probably would have arrested the

  Ensign immediately, and so lost all the profit of the score which

  the latter was causing every moment to be enlarged.

  In a couple of hours, with that happy facility which one may have

  often remarked in men of the gallant Ensign's nation, he had managed

  to disgust every one of the landlord's other guests, and scare them

  from the kitchen. Frightened by his addresses, the landlady too had

  taken flight; and the host was the only person left in the

  apartment; who there stayed for interest's sake merely, and listened

  moodily to his tipsy guest's conversation. In an hour more, the

  whole house was awakened by a violent noise of howling, curses, and

  pots clattering to and fro. Forth issued Mrs. Landlady in her

  night-gear, out came John Ostler with his pitchfork, downstairs

  tumbled Mrs. Cook and one or two guests, and found the landlord and

  ensign on the kitchen-floor--the wig of the latter lying, much

  singed and emitting strange odours, in the fireplace, his face

  hideously distorted, and a great quantity of his natural hair in the

  partial occupation of the landlord; who had drawn it and the head

  down towards him, in order that he might have the benefit of

  pummelling the latter more at his ease. In revenge, the landlord

  was undermost, and the Ensign's arms were working up and down his

  face and body like the flaps of a paddle-wheel: the man of war had

  clearly the best of it.

  The combatants were separated as soon as possible; but, as soon as

  the excitement of the fight was over, Ensign Macshane was found to

  have no further powers of speech, sense, or locomotion, and was

  carried by his late antagonist to bed. His sword and pistols, which

  had been placed at his side at the commencement of the evening, were

  carefully put by, and his pocket visited. Twenty guineas in gold, a

  large knife--used, probably, for the cutting of

  bread-and-cheese--some crumbs of those delicacies and a paper of

  tobacco found in the breeches-pockets, and in the bosom of the

  sky-blue coat, the leg of a cold fowl and half of a raw onion,

  constituted his whole property.

  These articles were not very suspicious; but the beating which the

  landlord had received tended greatly to confirm his own and his

  wife's doubts about their guest; and it was determined to send off

  in the early morning to Mr. Hayes, informing him how a person had

  lain at their inn who had ridden thither mounted upon young Hayes's

  horse. Off set John Ostler at earliest dawn; but on his way he woke

  up Mr. Justice's clerk, and communicated his suspicions to him; and

  Mr. Clerk consulted with the village baker, who was always up early;

  and the clerk, the baker, the butcher with his cleaver, and two

  gentlemen who were going to work, all adjourned to the inn.

  Accordingly, when Ensign Macshane was in a truckle-bed, plunged in

  that deep slumber which only innocence and drunkenness enjoy in this

  world, and charming the ears of morn by the regular and melodious

  music of his nose, a vile plot was laid against him; and when about

  seven of the clock he woke, he found, on sitting up in his bed,

  three gentlemen on each side of it, armed, and looking ominous. One

  held a constable's staff, and albeit unprovided with a warrant,

  would take upon himself the responsibility of seizing Mr. Macshane

  and of carrying him before his worship at the hall.

  "Taranouns, man!" said the Ensign, springing up in bed, and abruptly

  breaking off a loud sonorous yawn, with which he had opened the

  business of the day, "you won't deteen a gentleman who's on life and

  death? I give ye my word, an affair of honour."

  "How came you by that there horse?" said the baker.

  "How came you by these here fifteen guineas?" said the landlord, in

  whose hands, by some process, five of the gold pieces had

  disappeared.

  "What is this here idolatrous string of beads?" said the clerk.

  Mr. Macshane, the fact is, was a Catholic, but did not care to own

  it: for in those days his religion was not popular.

  "Baids? Holy Mother of saints! give me back them baids," said Mr.

  Macshane, clasping his hands. "They were blest, I tell you, by his

  holiness the po--psha! I mane they belong to a darling little

  daughter I had that's in heaven now: and as for the money and the

  horse, I should like to know how a gentleman is to travel in this

  counthry without them."

  "Why, you see, he may travel in the country to GIT 'em," here

  shrewdly remarked the constable; "and it's our belief that neither

  horse nor money is honestly come by. If his worship is satisfied,

  why so, in course, shall we be; but there is highwaymen abroad, look

  you; and, to our notion, you have very much the cut of one."

  Further remonstrances or threats on the part of Mr. Macshane were

  useless. Although he vowed that he was first cousin to the Duke of

  Leinster, an officer in Her Majesty's service, and the dearest

  friend Lord Marlborough had, his impudent captors would not believe

  a word of his statement (which, further, was garnished with a

  tremendous number of oaths); and he was, about eight o'clock,

  carried up to the house of Squire Ballance, the neighbouring justice

  of the peace.

  When the worthy magistrate asked the crime of which the prisoner had

  been guilty, the captors looked somewhat puzzled for the moment;

  since, in truth, it could not be shown that the Ensign had committed

  any crime at all; and if he had confined himself to simple silence,

  and thrown upon them the onus of proving his misdemeanours, Justice

  Ballance must have let him loose, and soundly rated his clerk and

  the landlord for detaining an honest gentleman on so frivolous a

  charge.

  But this caution was not in the Ensign's disposition; and though his

  accusers produced no satisfactory charge against him, his own words

  were quite enough to show how suspicious his character was. When

  asked his name, he gave it in as Captain Geraldine, on his way to

  Ireland, by Bristol, on a visit to his cousin the Duke of Leinster.

  He swore solemnly that his friends, the Duke of Marlborough and Lord

  Peterborough, under both of whom he had served, should hear of the

  manner in which he had been treated; and when the justice,--a sly

  old gentleman, and one that read the Gazettes, asked him at what

  battles he had been present, the gallant Ensign pitched on
a couple

  in Spain and in Flanders, which had been fought within a week of

  each other, and vowed that he had been desperately wounded at both;

  so that, at the end of his examination, which had been taken down by

  the clerk, he had been made to acknowledge as follows:--Captain

  Geraldine, six feet four inches in height; thin, with a very long

  red nose, and red hair; grey eyes, and speaks with a strong Irish

  accent; is the first-cousin of the Duke of Leinster, and in constant

  communication with him: does not know whether his Grace has any

  children; does not know whereabouts he lives in London; cannot say

  what sort of a looking man his Grace is: is acquainted with the

  Duke of Marlborough, and served in the dragoons at the battle of

  Ramillies; at which time he was with my Lord Peterborough before

  Barcelona. Borrowed the horse which he rides from a friend in

  London, three weeks since. Peter Hobbs, ostler, swears that it was

  in his master's stable four days ago, and is the property of John

  Hayes, carpenter. Cannot account for the fifteen guineas found on

  him by the landlord; says there were twenty; says he won them at

  cards, a fortnight since, at Edinburgh; says he is riding about the

  country for his amusement: afterwards says he is on a matter of

  life and death, and going to Bristol; declared last night, in the

  hearing of several witnesses, that he was going to York; says he is

  a man of independent property, and has large estates in Ireland, and

  a hundred thousand pounds in the Bank of England. Has no shirt or

  stockings, and the coat he wears is marked "S.S." In his boots is

  written "Thomas Rodgers," and in his hat is the name of the "Rev.

  Doctor Snoffler."

  Doctor Snoffler lived at Worcester, and had lately advertised in the

  Hue and Cry a number of articles taken from his house. Mr. Macshane

  said, in reply to this, that his hat had been changed at the inn,

  and he was ready to take his oath that he came thither in a

  gold-laced one. But this fact was disproved by the oaths of many

  persons who had seen him at the inn. And he was about to be

  imprisoned for the thefts which he had not committed (the fact about

  the hat being, that he had purchased it from a gentleman at the

  "Three Rooks" for two pints of beer)--he was about to be remanded,

  when, behold, Mrs. Hayes the elder made her appearance; and to her

  it was that the Ensign was indebted for his freedom.

  Old Hayes had gone to work before the ostler arrived; but when his

  wife heard the lad's message, she instantly caused her pillion to be

  placed behind the saddle, and mounting the grey horse, urged the

  stable-boy to gallop as hard as ever he could to the justice's

  house.

  She entered panting and alarmed. "Oh, what is your honour going to

  do to this honest gentleman?" said she. "In the name of Heaven, let

  him go! His time is precious--he has important business--business of

  life and death."

  "I tould the jidge so," said the Ensign, "but he refused to take my

  word--the sacred wurrd of honour of Captain Geraldine."

  Macshane was good at a single lie, though easily flustered on an

  examination; and this was a very creditable stratagem to acquaint

  Mrs. Hayes with the name that he bore.

  "What! you know Captain Geraldine?" said Mr. Ballance, who was

  perfectly well acquainted with the carpenter's wife.

  "In coorse she does. Hasn't she known me these tin years? Are we

  not related? Didn't she give me the very horse which I rode, and,

  to make belave, tould you I'd bought in London?"

  "Let her tell her own story. Are you related to Captain Geraldine,

  Mrs. Hayes?"

  "Yes--oh, yes!"

  "A very elegant connection! And you gave him the horse, did you, of

  your own free-will?"

  "Oh yes! of my own will--I would give him anything. Do, do, your

  honour, let him go! His child is dying," said the old lady,

  bursting into tears. "It may be dead before he gets to--before he

  gets there. Oh, your honour, your honour, pray, pray, don't detain

  him!"

  The justice did not seem to understand this excessive sympathy on

  the part of Mrs. Hayes; nor did the father himself appear to be

  nearly so affected by his child's probable fate as the honest woman

  who interested herself for him. On the contrary, when she made this

  passionate speech, Captain Geraldine only grinned, and said, "Niver

  mind, my dear. If his honour will keep an honest gentleman for

  doing nothing, why, let him--the law must settle between us; and as

  for the child, poor thing, the Lord deliver it!"

  At this, Mrs. Hayes fell to entreating more loudly than ever; and as

  there was really no charge against him, Mr. Ballance was constrained

  to let him go.

  The landlord and his friends were making off, rather confused, when

  Ensign Macshane called upon the former in a thundering voice to

  stop, and refund the five guineas which he had stolen from him.

  Again the host swore there were but fifteen in his pocket. But

  when, on the Bible, the Ensign solemnly vowed that he had twenty,

  and called upon Mrs. Hayes to say whether yesterday, half-an-hour

  before he entered the inn, she had not seen him with twenty guineas,

  and that lady expressed herself ready to swear that she had, Mr.

  Landlord looked more crestfallen than ever, and said that he had not

  counted the money when he took it; and though he did in his soul

  believe that there were only fifteen guineas, rather than be

  suspected of a shabby action, he would pay the five guineas out of

  his own pocket: which he did, and with the Ensign's, or rather Mrs.

  Hayes's, own coin.

  As soon as they were out of the justice's house, Mr. Macshane, in

  the fulness of his gratitude, could not help bestowing an embrace

  upon Mrs. Hayes. And when she implored him to let her ride behind

  him to her darling son, he yielded with a very good grace, and off

  the pair set on John Hayes's grey.

  "Who has Nosey brought with him now?" said Mr. Sicklop, Brock's

  one-eyed confederate, who, about three hours after the above

  adventure, was lolling in the yard of the "Three Rooks." It was our

  Ensign, with the mother of his captive. They had not met with any

  accident in their ride.

  "I shall now have the shooprame bliss," said Mr. Macshane, with much

  feeling, as he lifted Mrs. Hayes from the saddle---"the shooprame

  bliss of intwining two harrts that are mead for one another. Ours,

  my dear, is a dismal profession; but ah! don't moments like this

  make aminds for years of pain? This way, my dear. Turn to your

  right, then to your left--mind the stip--and the third door round

  the corner."

  All these precautions were attended to; and after giving his

  concerted knock, Mr. Macshane was admitted into an apartment, which

  he entered holding his gold pieces in the one hand, and a lady by

  the other.

  We shall not describe the meeting which took place between mother

  and son. The old lady wept copiously; the young man was really glad


  to see his relative, for he deemed that his troubles were over.

  Mrs. Cat bit her lips, and stood aside, looking somewhat foolish;

  Mr. Brock counted the money; and Mr. Macshane took a large dose of

  strong waters, as a pleasing solace for his labours, dangers, and

  fatigue.

  When the maternal feelings were somewhat calmed, the old lady had

  leisure to look about her, and really felt a kind of friendship and

  goodwill for the company of thieves in which she found herself. It

  seemed to her that they had conferred an actual favour on her, in

  robbing her of twenty guineas, threatening her son's life, and

  finally letting him go.

  "Who is that droll old gentleman?" said she; and being told that it

  was Captain Wood, she dropped him a curtsey, and said, with much

  respect, "Captain, your very humble servant;" which compliment Mr.

  Brock acknowledged by a gracious smile and bow. "And who is this

  pretty young lady?" continued Mrs. Hayes.

  "Why--hum--oh--mother, you must give her your blessing. She is Mrs.

  John Hayes." And herewith Mr. Hayes brought forward his interesting

  lady, to introduce her to his mamma.

  The news did not at all please the old lady; who received Mrs.

  Catherine's embrace with a very sour face indeed. However, the

  mischief was done; and she was too glad to get back her son to be,

  on such an occasion, very angry with him. So, after a proper

  rebuke, she told Mrs. John Hayes that though she never approved of

  her son's attachment, and thought he married below his condition,

  yet as the evil was done, it was their duty to make the best of it;

  and she, for her part, would receive her into her house, and make

  her as comfortable there as she could.

  "I wonder whether she has any more money in that house?" whispered

  Mr. Sicklop to Mr. Redcap; who, with the landlady, had come to the

  door of the room, and had been amusing themselves by the

  contemplation of this sentimental scene.

  "What a fool that wild Hirishman was not to bleed her for more!"

  said the landlady; "but he's a poor ignorant Papist. I'm sure my

  man" (this gentleman had been hanged), "wouldn't have come away with

  such a beggarly sum."

  "Suppose we have some more out of 'em?" said Mr. Redcap. "What

  prevents us? We have got the old mare, and the colt too,--ha! ha!--

  and the pair of 'em ought to be worth at least a hundred to us."

  This conversation was carried on sotto voce; and I don't know

  whether Mr. Brock had any notion of the plot which was arranged by

  the three worthies. The landlady began it. "Which punch, madam,

  will you take?" says she. "You must have something for the good of

  the house, now you are in it."

  "In coorse," said the Ensign.

  "Certainly," said the other three. But the old lady said she was

  anxious to leave the place; and putting down a crown-piece,

  requested the hostess to treat the gentlemen in her absence.

  "Good-bye, Captain," said the old lady.

  "Ajew!" cried the Ensign, "and long life to you, my dear. You got

  me out of a scrape at the justice's yonder; and, split me! but

  Insign Macshane will remimber it as long as he lives."

  And now Hayes and the two ladies made for the door; but the landlady

  placed herself against it, and Mr. Sicklop said, "No, no, my pretty

  madams, you ain't a-going off so cheap as that neither; you are not

  going out for a beggarly twenty guineas, look you,--we must have

  more."

  Mr. Hayes starting back, and cursing his fate, fairly burst into

  tears; the two women screamed; and Mr. Brock looked as if the

  proposition both amused and had been expected by him: but not so

  Ensign Macshane.

  "Major!" said he, clawing fiercely hold of Brock's arms.

  "Ensign," said Mr. Brock, smiling.

  "Arr we, or arr we not, men of honour?"

  "Oh, in coorse," said Brock, laughing, and using Macshane's

  favourite expression.

  "If we ARR men of honour, we are bound to stick to our word; and,