The Children of the New Forest

by Frederick Marryat

  CHAPTER XI.

  "Would you have found your way to Lymington?" said Oswald, as the ponytrotted along.

  "Yes; I think so," replied Edward; "but I must have first gone toArnwood. Indeed, had I been alone I should have done so; but we havemade a much shorter cut."

  "I did not think that you would have liked to have seen the ruins ofArnwood," replied Oswald.

  "Not a day passes without my thinking of them," replied Edward. "Ishould like to see them. I should like to see if any one has takenpossession of the property, for they say it is confiscated."

  "I heard that it was to be, but not that it was yet," said Oswald; "butwe shall know more when we get to Lymington. I have not seen it formore than a year. I hardly think that any one will recognize you."

  "I should think not; but I care little if they do. Indeed, who is theeto know me?"

  "Well, my introduction of you will save some surmises, probably; and Ishall not take you among those who may be inclined to ask questions.See, there is the steeple; we have not more than a quarter of an hour'sdrive."

  As soon as they arrived at Lymington, Oswald directed the way to asmall hostelry to which the keepers and verderers usually resorted. Infact, the landlord was the party who took all the venison off theirhands, and disposed of it. They drove into the yard, and, giving thepony and cart in charge of the hostler, went into the inn, where theyfound the landlord, and one or two other people, who were drinking.

  "Well, Master Andrew, how fare you?" said Oswald.

  "Let me see," said the corpulent landlord, throwing back his head, andputting out his stomach, as he peered at Oswald. "Why, OswaldPartridge, as I am a born man. Where have you been this many a day!"

  "In the forest, Master Andrew, where there are no few chops andchanges."

  "Yes, you have a sort of Parliamentary keeper, I'm told; and who isthis with you?"

  "The grandson of an old friend of yours, now dead, poor old JacobArmitage."

  "Jacob dead, poor fellow! As true as flint was Jacob Armitage, as I'm aborn man! And so he is dead! Well, we all owe Heaven a death. Forestersand landlords, as well as kings, all must die!"

  "I have brought Edward Armitage over here to introduce him to you,Master Andrew. Now that the old man is dead, you must look to him forforest meat."

  "Oh, well, well, it is scarce now. I have not had any for some time.Old Jacob brought me the last. You are not one of the Parliamentaryforesters, then, I presume?" continued the landlord, turning to Edward.

  "No," replied Edward, "I kill no venison for Roundheads."

  "Right, my sapling; right and well said. The Armitages were all goodmen and true, and followed the fortunes of the Beverleys; but there areno Beverleys to follow now. Cut off--root and branch--more's the pity.That was a sad business. But come in; we must not talk here, for wallshave ears, they say, and one never knows who one dares to speak beforenow."

  Oswald and Edward then entered with the landlord, and arrangements weremade between Master Andrew and the latter for a regular supply ofvenison during the season, at a certain price; but as it would now bedangerous to bring it into the town, it was agreed that when there wasany ready, Edward should come to Lymington and give notice, and thelandlord would send out people to bring it in during the night. Thisbargain concluded, they took a glass with the landlord, and then wentinto the town to make the necessary purchases. Oswald took Edward toall the shops where the articles he required were to be purchased; somethey carried away with them; others, which were too heavy, they left,to be called for with the cart as they went away. Among other articles,Edward required powder and lead, and they went to a gunsmith's where itwas to be procured. While making his purchases, Edward perceived asword, which he thought he had seen before, hanging up against the wallamong other weapons.

  "What sword is that?" said he, to the man who was measuring out thepowder.

  "It's not my sword, exactly," replied the man; "and yet I can notreturn it to its owner or to the family. It was brought me to becleaned by one of Colonel Beverley's people, and before it was calledfor the house was burned, and every soul perished. It was one of thecolonel's swords, I am sure, as there is E. B. on a silver plateengraved on it. I have a bill owing me for work done at Arnwood, and Ihave no chance of its being paid now; so, whether I am to sell thesword, or what to do, I hardly know."

  Edward remained silent for some little while, for he could not trusthimself to speak; at last he replied: "To be candid with you, I am, andall my family have been, followers of the Beverley family, and I shouldbe sorry if the colonel's sword was to fall into any other hands. Ithink, therefore, if I pay the bill which is due, you may safely let mehold the sword as a security for the money, with the expressunderstanding that if it is ever claimed by the Beverley family I am togive it up."

  "Certainly," said Oswald; "nothing can be fairer or more clearly put."

  "I think so, too, young man," replied the shopkeeper. "Of course youwill leave your name and address?"

  "Yes; and my friend here will vouch for its being correct," repliedEdward.

  The shopkeeper then produced the account, which Edward paid; and givingon the paper the name of Edward Armitage, he took possession of thesword. He then paid for the powder and lead, which Oswald took chargeof, and, hardly able to conceal his joy, hastened out of the shop.

  "Oswald," cried Edward, "I would not part with it for thousands ofpounds. I never will part with it but with my life."

  "I believe so," replied Oswald; "and I believe more, that it will neverbe disgraced in your hands; but do not talk so loud, for there arelisteners and spies everywhere. Is there any thing else that yourequire?"

  "No, I think not; the fact is, that this sword has put every thing outof my head. If there was anything else, I have forgotten it. Let us goback to the inn, and we will harness the pony, and call for the flourand oatmeal."

  When they arrived at the inn, Oswald went out to the yard to get thecart ready, while Edward went into the landlord's room to makeinquiries as to the quantity of venison he would be able to take offhis hands at a time. Oswald had taken the sword from Edward, and hadput it in the cart while he was fastening the harness, when a man cameup to the cart and looked earnestly at the sword. He then examined it,and said to Oswald,

  "Why that was Colonel Beverley's, my old master's sword. I knowed itagain directly. I took it to Phillips, the gun maker, to be cleaned."

  "Indeed!" replied Oswald; "I pray, what may be your name?"

  "Benjamin White," replied the man; "I served at Arnwood till the nightit was burned down; and I have been here ever since."

  "And what are you doing now?"

  "I'm tapster at the 'Commonwealth,' in Fish-street--not much of aplace."

  "Well, well, you stand by the pony, and look that nobody takes anything out of the cart, while I go in for some parcels."

  "Yes, to be sure I will; but, I say, forester, how came you by thatsword?'

  "I will tell you when I come out again," replied Oswald.

  Oswald then went in to Edward, and told him what had occurred.

  "He will certainly know you, sir, and you must not come out till I canget him away," said he.

  "You are right, Oswald; but before he goes, ask him what became of myaunt, and where she was buried; and also ask him where the otherservants are--perhaps they are at Lymington as well as he."

  "I will find it all out," replied Oswald, who then left Edward, andreturned to the landlord and recommenced conversation.

  Oswald on his return, told Benjamin in what manner the sword had beenprocured from the shopman, by the grandson of old Armitage.

  "I never knew that he had one," replied Benjamin; "nor did I know thatold Jacob was dead."

  "What became of all the women who were at Arnwood?" inquired Oswald.

  "Why, Agatha married one of the troopers, and went away to London."

  "And the others?"

  "Why, cook went home to her friends, who live about ten miles fromhere, and I have nev
er heard of her since."

  "But there were three of them," said Oswald.

  "Oh, yes; there was Phoebe," relied Benjamin, looking rather confused."She married a trooper--the jilt!--and went off to London when Agathadid. If I'd have thought that she would have done so, I would not haveearned her away from Arnwood behind me, on a pillion, as I did; shemight have been burned with the poor children, for all as I cared."

  "Was not the old lady killed?"

  "Yes; that is to say, she killed herself, rather than not killSouthwold."

  "Where was she buried?"

  "In the church-yard at St. Faith's, by the mayor and the corporation;for there was not money enough found upon her person to pay theexpenses of her burial."

  "And so you are tapster at the Commonwealth. Is it a good inn?"

  "Can't say much for it. I shan't stay longer than I can help, I cantell you."

  "Well, but you must have an easy place, if you can stay away as long asyou do now."

  "Won't I be mobbed when I go back! but that's always the case, makehaste or not, so it's all one. However, I do think I must be agoingnow, so good-by, Mr. Forester; and tell Jacob Armitage's grandson thatI shall be glad to see him, for old Jacob's sake; and it's hard, butI'll find him something to drink when he calls."

  "I will: I shall see him to-morrow." replied Oswald, getting into thecart; "so good-by, Benjamin," much to the satisfaction of Oswald, whothought that he would never go.

  They went away at a rapid pace to make up for lost time, and soondisappeared around the corner of the street. Oswald then got out again,summoned Edward, and having called for the flour and other heavyarticles, they set off on their return.

  During the drive, Oswald made known to Edward the information which hehad gained from Benjamin, and at a late hour they arrived safely at thecottage.

  They staid up but a short time, as they were tired; and Oswald hadresolved upon setting off before daylight on the following morning,which he did without disturbing any one; for Humphrey was up anddressed as soon as Oswald was and gave him something to eat as he wentalong. All the others remained fast asleep. Humphrey walked about amile with Oswald, and was returning to the farm when he thought, as hehad not examined his pitfall for many days, that he might as well lookat it before he went back. He therefore struck out in the direction inwhich it lay, and arrived there just as the day began to dawn.

  It was the end of March, and the weather was mild for the season.Humphrey arrived at the pit, and it was sufficiently light for him toperceive that the covering had been broken in, and therefore, in allprobability, something must have been trapped. He sat down and waitedfor daylight, but at times he thought he heard a heavy breathing, andonce a low groan. This made him more anxious, and he again and againpeered into the pit, but could not for a long while discover any thing,until at last he thought that he could make out a human figure lying atthe bottom. Humphrey called out, asking if there was any one there. Agroan was the reply, and now Humphrey was horrified with the idea thatsomebody had fallen into the pit, and had perished, or was perishingfor want of succor. Recollecting that the rough ladder which he hadmade to take the soil up out of the pit was against an oak-tree, closeat hand, he ran for it, and put it down the pit, and then cautiouslydescended. On his arrival at the bottom, his fears were found to beverified, for he saw the body of a lad, half clothed, lying there. Heturned it up as it was lying with its face to the ground, and attemptedto remove it, and to ascertain if there was life in it, which he wasdelighted to find was the case. The lad groaned several times, andopened his eyes. Humphrey was afraid that he was not strong enough tolift him on his shoulders and carry him up the ladder; but, on makingthe attempt he found out, from exhaustion, the poor lad was lightenough for him to carry him, which he did, and safely landed him by theside of the pit.

  Recollecting that the watering-place of the herd of cattle was not faroff, Humphrey then hastened to it, and filled his hat half full ofwater. The lad, although he could not speak, drank eagerly, and in afew minutes appeared much recovered. Humphrey gave him some more, andbathed his face and temples. The sun had now risen, and it was broaddaylight. The lad attempted to speak, but what he did say was in so lowa tone, and evidently in a foreign language, that Humphrey could notmake him out. He, therefore, made signs to the lad that he was goingaway, and would be back soon; and having, as he thought, made the ladcomprehend this, Humphrey ran away to the cottage as fast as he could;and as soon as he arrived he called for Edward, who came out, and whenHumphrey told him in few words what had happened, Edward went into thecottage again for some milk and some cake, while Humphrey put the ponyinto the cart.

  In a few moments they were off again, and soon arrived at the pitfall,where they found the lad, still lying where Humphrey had left him. Theysoaked the cake in the milk, and as soon as it was soft gave him some;after a time, he swallowed pretty freely, and was so much recovered asto be able to sit up. They then lifted him into the cart, and drovegently home to their cottage.

  "What do you think he is, Edward?" said Humphrey.

  "Some poor beggar lad, who has been crossing the forest."

  "No, not exactly: he appears to me to be one of the Zingaros orGipsies, as they call them: he is very dark, and has black eyes andwhite teeth, just like those I saw once near Arnwood, when I was outwith Jacob. Jacob said that no one knew where they came from, but thatthey were all over the country, and that they were great thieves, andtold fortunes, and played all manner of tricks."

  "Perhaps it may be so; I do not think that he can speak English."

  "I am most thankful to Heaven that I chanced this morning to visit thepitfall. Only suppose that I had found the poor boy starved and dead! Ishould have been very unhappy, and never should have had any pleasurein looking at the cows, as they would always have reminded me of such amelancholy accident."

  "Very true, Humphrey; but you have been saved that misfortune, andought to be grateful to Heaven that such is the case. What shall we dowith him now we have him?"

  "Why if he chooses to remain with us, he will be very useful in thecow-yard," said Humphrey.

  "Of course," replied Edward, laughing, "as he was taken in thepit-fall, he must go into the yard with all the others who werecaptured in the same way."

  "Well, Edward, let us get him all right again first, and then we willsee what is to be done with him; perhaps he will refuse to remain withus."

  As soon as they arrived at the cottage, they lifted the lad out of thecart, and carried him into Jacob's room, and laid him on the bed, forhe was too weak to stand.

  Alice and Edith, who were much surprised at the new visitor and the wayin which he had been caught, hastened to get some gruel ready for him.As soon as it was ready, they gave it to the boy, who then fell back onthe bed with exhaustion, and was soon in a sound sleep. He sleptsoundly all that night; and the next morning, when he awoke, heappeared much better, although very hungry. This last complaint waseasy to remedy, and then the lad got up, and walked into thesitting-room.

  "What's your name?" said Humphrey to the lad.

  "Pablo," replied the lad.

  "Can you speak English?"

  "Yes, little," replied he.

  "How did you happen to fall into the pit?"

  "Not see hole."

  "Are you a gipsy?"

  "Yes, gitano--same thing."

  Humphrey put a great many more questions to the lad, and elicited fromhim, in his imperfect English, the following particulars:

  That he was in company with several others of his race, going down tothe sea-coast on one of their usual migrations, and that they hadpitched their tents not far from the pitfall. That during the night hehad gone out to set some snares for rabbits, and going back to thetents, it being quite dark, he had fallen into the hole; that he hadremained there three days and nights, having in vain attempted to getout. His mother was with the party of gipsies to which he belonged, buthe had no father. He did not know where to follow the gang, as they hadnot said where
they were going, farther than to the sea-coast. That itwas no use looking for them; and that he did not care much aboutleaving them, as he was very unkindly treated. In reply to the questionas to whether he would like to remain with them, and work with them onthe farm, he replied that he should like it very much if they would bekind to him, and not make him work too hard; that he would cook thedinner, and catch them rabbits and birds, and make a great many things.

  "Will you be honest, if we keep you, and not tell lies?" said Edward.

  The lad thought a little while, and then nodded his head in theaffirmative.

  "Well, Pablo, we will try you, and if you are a good lad we will do allwe can to make you happy," said Edward; "but if you behave ill we shallbe obliged to turn you out of doors: do you understand?"

  "Be as good as I can," replied Pablo; and here the conversation endedfor the present.

  Pablo was a very short-built lad, of apparently fifteen or sixteenyears of age, very dark in complexion, but very handsome in features,with beautiful white teeth and large dark eyes; and there was certainlysomething in his intelligent countenance which recommended him,independent of his claim to their kindness from his having been leftthus friendless in consequence of his misadventure. Humphrey wasparticularly pleased with and interested about him, as the lad had sonearly lost his life through his means.

  "I really think, Edward," said Humphrey, as they were standing outsideof the door of the cottage, "that the lad may be very useful to us, andI sincerely hope that he may prove honest and true. We must first gethim into health and spirits, and then I will see what he can do."

  "The fact is, my dear Humphrey, we can do no otherwise; he is separatedfrom his friends, and does not know where to go. It would be inhuman,as we have been the cause of his misfortune, to turn him away; butalthough I feel this, I do not feel much security as to his goodbehavior and being very useful. I have always been told that thesegipsies were vagrants, who lived by stealing all they could lay theirhands upon; and, if he has been brought up in that way, I fear that hewill not easily be reformed. However, we can but try, and hope for thebest."

  "What you say is very just, Edward; at the same time there is an honestlook about this lad, although he is a gipsy, that makes me put a sortof confidence in him. Admitting that he has been taught to do wrong, doyou not think that when told the contrary he may be persuaded to doright?"

  "It is not impossible, certainly," replied Edward; "but, Humphrey, beon the safe side, and do not trust him too far until you know more ofhim."

  "That I most certainly will not," replied Humphrey. "When do youpurpose going over to the keepers cottage, Edward?"

  "In a day or two; but I am not exactly in a humor now to be very civilto the Roundheads, although the one I have promised to visit is a lady,and a very amiable, pretty little girl in the bargain."

  "Why, Edward, what has made you feel more opposed to them than usual?"

  "In the first place, Humphrey, the murder of the king--for it wasmurder and nothing better--I can not get that out of my head; andyesterday I obtained what I consider as almost a gift from Heaven, andif it is so it was not given but with the intention that I should makeuse of it."

  "And what was that, Edward?"

  "Our gallant father's sword, which he drew so nobly and so well indefense of his sovereign, Humphrey, and which I trust his son may oneday wield with equal distinction, and, it may be, better fortune. Comein with me, and I will show it to you."

  Edward and Humphrey went into the bedroom, and Edward brought out thesword, which he had placed by his side on the bed.

  "See, Humphrey, this was our father's sword; and," continued Edward,kissing the weapon, "I trust I may be permitted to draw it to revengehis death, and the death of one whose life ever should have beensacred."

  "I trust that you will, my dear brother," replied Humphrey; "you willhave a strong arm and a good cause. Heaven grant that both may prosper!But tell me how you came by it."

  Edward then related all that had passed during his visit with Oswald toLymington, not forgetting to tell him of Benjamin's appearance, and thearrangements he had made relative to the sale of the venison.

  As soon as dinner was over, Edward and Humphrey took down their guns,having agreed that they would go and hunt the wild cattle.

  "Humphrey, have you any idea where the herd of cattle are feeding atthis time?"

  "I know where they were feeding yesterday and the day before, and I donot think that they will have changed their ground, for the grass isyet very young and only grown on the southern aspects. Depend upon itwe shall fall in with them not four miles from where we now are, if notnearer."

  "We must stalk them as we do the deer, must we not? They won't allow usto approach within shot, Humphrey, will they?" said Edward.

  "We have to take our chance, Edward; they will allow us to advancewithin shot, but the bulls will then advance upon us, while the herdincrease their distance. On the other hand, if we stalk them, we maykill one, and then the report of the gun will frighten the others away.In the first instance there is a risk; in the second there is none, butthere is more fatigue and trouble. Choose as you please; I will act asyou decide."

  "Well, Humphrey, since you give me the choice, I think that this time Ishall take the bull by the horns, as the saying is; that is, if thereare any trees near us, for if the herd are in an open place I would notrun such a risk; but if we can fire upon them and fall back upon a treein case of a bull charging, I will take them openly."

  "With all my heart, Edward; I think it will be very hard if, with ourtwo guns and Smoker to back us, we do not manage to be masters of thefield. However, we must survey well before we make our approach; and ifwe can get within shot without alarming or irritating them, we, ofcourse, will do so."

  "The bulls are very savage at this spring time," observed Edward.

  "They are so at all times, as far as I can see of them," repliedHumphrey; "but we are near to them now, I should think--yes, there isthe herd."

  "There they are, sure enough," replied Edward; "now we have not to dowith deer, and need not to be so very cautious; but still the animalsare wary, and keep a sharp look-out. We must approach them quietly, byslipping from tree to tree. Smoker, to heel!--down---quiet,Smoker!--good dog!"

  Edward and Humphrey stopped to load their guns, and then approached theherd in manner which had been proposed, and were very soon within twohundred yards of the cattle, behind a large oak, when they stopped toreconnoiter. The herd contained about seventy head of cattle, ofvarious sizes and ages. They were feeding in all directions, scattered,as the young grass was very short; but although the herd was spreadover many acres of land, Edward pointed out to Humphrey that all thefull-grown large bulls were on the outside, as if ready to defend theothers in case of attack.

  "Humphrey," said Edward, "one thing is clear--as the herd is placed atpresent, we must have a bull or nothing. It is impossible to get withinshot of the others without passing a bull, and depend upon it, ourpassage will be disputed; and moreover the herd will take to flight,and we shall get nothing at all."

  "Well," replied Humphrey, "beef is beef; and, as they say, beggars mustnot be choosers, so let it be a bull if it must be so."

  "Let us get nearer to them, and then we will decide what we shall do.Steady, Smoker!"

  They advanced gradually, hiding from tree to tree, until they werewithin eighty yards of one of the bulls. The animal did not perceivethem, and as they were now within range, they again stepped behind thetree to consult.

  "Now, Edward, I think that it would be best to separate. You can firefrom where we are, and I will crawl through the fern, and get behindanother tree."

  "Very well, do so," replied Edward: "if you can manage, get to thattree with the low branches, and then perhaps you will be within shot ofthe white bull, which is coming down in this direction. Smoker, liedown! He can not go with you, Humphrey; it will not be safe."

  The distance of the tree which Humphrey ventured to get to was o
neabout one hundred and fifty yards from where Edward was standing.Humphrey crawled along for some time in the fern, but at last he cameto a bare spot of about ten yards wide, which they were not aware of,and where he could not be concealed. Humphrey hesitated, and at lastdecided upon attempting to cross it. Edward, who was one momentwatching the motions of Humphrey, and at another that of the twoanimals nearest to them, perceived that the white bull farthest fromhim, but nearest to Humphrey, threw its head in the air, pawed with hisfoot, and then advanced with a roar to where Humphrey was on theground, still crawling toward the tree, having passed the open spot,and being now not many yards from the tree. Perceiving the danger thathis brother was in, and that, moreover, Humphrey himself was not awareof it, he hardly knew how to act. The bull was too far from him to fireat it with any chance of success; and how to let Humphrey know that theanimal had discovered him and was making toward him, without callingout, he did not know. All this was the thought of a moment, and thenEdward determined to fire at the bull nearest to him, which he hadpromised not to do till Humphrey was also ready to fire, and afterfiring to call to Humphrey. He therefore, for one moment, turned awayfrom his brother, and, taking aim at the bull, fired his gun; butprobably from his nerves being a little shaken at the idea of Humphreybeing in danger, the wound was not mortal, and the bull galloped backto the herd, which formed a closed phalanx about a quarter of a miledistant. Edward then turned to where his brother was, and perceivedthat the bull had not made off with the rest of the cattle, but waswithin thirty yards of Humphrey, and advancing upon him, and thatHumphrey was standing up beside the tree with his gun ready to file.Humphrey fired, and, as it appeared, he also missed his aim; the animalmade at him; but Humphrey, with great quickness, dropped his gun, and,swinging by the lower boughs, was into the tree, and out of the bull'sreach in a moment. Edward smiled when he perceived that Humphrey wassafe; but still he was a prisoner, for the bull went round and roundthe tree roaring and looking up at Humphrey. Edward thought a minute,then loaded his gun, and ordered Smoker to run in to the bull. The dog,who had only been restrained by Edward's keeping him down at his feet,sprung forward to the attack. Edward had intended, by calling to thedog, to induce the bull to follow it till within gun-shot; but beforethe bull had been attacked, Edward observed that one or two more of thebulls had left the herd, and were coming at a rapid pace toward him.Under these circumstances, Edward perceived that his only chance was toclimb into a tree himself, which he did, taking good care to take hisgun and ammunition with him. Having safely fixed himself in a forkedbough, Edward then surveyed the position of the parties. There wasHumphrey in the tree, without his gun. The bull who had pursuedHumphrey was now running at Smoker, who appeared to be aware that hewas to decoy the bull toward Edward, for he kept retreating toward him.In the mean time, the two other bulls were quite close at hand,mingling their bellowing and roaring with the first; and one of them asnear to Edward as the first bull, which was engaged with Smoker. Atlast, one of the advancing bulls stood still, pawing the ground as ifdisappointed at not finding an enemy, not forty yards from where Edwardwas perched. Edward took good aim, and when he fired the bull felldead. Edward was reloading his piece when he heard a howl, and lookinground, saw Smoker flying up in the air, having been tossed by the firstbull; and at the same time he observed that Humphrey had descended fromthe tree, recovered his gun, and was now safe again upon the lowerbough.

  The first bull was advancing again to attack Smoker, who appearedincapable of getting away, so much was he injured by the fall, when theother bull, who apparently must have been an old antagonist of thefirst, roared and attacked him; and now the two boys were up in thetree, the two bulls fighting between them, and Smoker lying on theground, panting and exhausted. As the bulls, with locked horns, werefuriously pressing each other, both guns were discharged, and bothanimals fell. After waiting a little while to see if they rose again,or if any more of the herd came up, Edward and Humphrey descended fromthe trees and heartily shook hands.