CHAPTER X
A BRAVE RESCUE AND A ROUGH RIDE
It happened upon a November evening (when I was about fifteen years old,and out-growing my strength very rapidly, my sister Annie being turnedthirteen, and a deal of rain having fallen, and all the troughs in theyard being flooded, and the bark from the wood-ricks washed down thegutters, and even our water-shoot going brown) that the ducks in thecourt made a terrible quacking, instead of marching off to their pen,one behind another. Thereupon Annie and I ran out to see what might bethe sense of it. There were thirteen ducks, and ten lily-white (as thefashion then of ducks was), not I mean twenty-three in all, but tenwhite and three brown-striped ones; and without being nice about theircolour, they all quacked very movingly. They pushed their gold-colouredbills here and there (yet dirty, as gold is apt to be), and they jumpedon the triangles of their feet, and sounded out of their nostrils; andsome of the over-excited ones ran along low on the ground, quackinggrievously with their bills snapping and bending, and the roof of theirmouths exhibited.
Annie began to cry 'Dilly, dilly, einy, einy, ducksey,' according tothe burden of a tune they seem to have accepted as the national duck'santhem; but instead of being soothed by it, they only quacked threetimes as hard, and ran round till we were giddy. And then they shooktheir tails together, and looked grave, and went round and roundagain. Now I am uncommonly fond of ducks, both roasted and roasting androystering; and it is a fine sight to behold them walk, poddling oneafter other, with their toes out, like soldiers drilling, and theirlittle eyes cocked all ways at once, and the way that they dib withtheir bills, and dabble, and throw up their heads and enjoy something,and then tell the others about it. Therefore I knew at once, by the waythey were carrying on, that there must be something or other gone whollyamiss in the duck-world. Sister Annie perceived it too, but with agreater quickness; for she counted them like a good duck-wife, and couldonly tell thirteen of them, when she knew there ought to be fourteen.
And so we began to search about, and the ducks ran to lead us aright,having come that far to fetch us; and when we got down to the foot ofthe court-yard where the two great ash-trees stand by the side of thelittle water, we found good reason for the urgence and melancholy of theduck-birds. Lo! the old white drake, the father of all, a bird of highmanners and chivalry, always the last to help himself from the pan ofbarley-meal, and the first to show fight to a dog or cock intruding uponhis family, this fine fellow, and pillar of the state, was now in a sadpredicament, yet quacking very stoutly. For the brook, wherewith hehad been familiar from his callow childhood, and wherein he was wont toquest for water-newts, and tadpoles, and caddis-worms, and other game,this brook, which afforded him very often scanty space to dabble in,and sometimes starved the cresses, was now coming down in a great brownflood, as if the banks never belonged to it. The foaming of it, and thenoise, and the cresting of the corners, and the up and down, like a waveof the sea, were enough to frighten any duck, though bred upon stormywaters, which our ducks never had been.
There is always a hurdle six feet long and four and a half in depth,swung by a chain at either end from an oak laid across the channel. Andthe use of this hurdle is to keep our kine at milking time from strayingaway there drinking (for in truth they are very dainty) and to fencestrange cattle, or Farmer Snowe's horses, from coming along the bed ofthe brook unknown, to steal our substance. But now this hurdle, whichhung in the summer a foot above the trickle, would have been dipped morethan two feet deep but for the power against it. For the torrent camedown so vehemently that the chains at full stretch were creaking, andthe hurdle buffeted almost flat, and thatched (so to say) with thedrift-stuff, was going see-saw, with a sulky splash on the dirty redcomb of the waters. But saddest to see was between two bars, where afog was of rushes, and flood-wood, and wild-celery haulm, and deadcrowsfoot, who but our venerable mallard jammed in by the joint of hisshoulder, speaking aloud as he rose and fell, with his top-knot full ofwater, unable to comprehend it, with his tail washed far away from him,but often compelled to be silent, being ducked very harshly against hiswill by the choking fall-to of the hurdle.
For a moment I could not help laughing, because, being borne up high anddry by a tumult of the torrent, he gave me a look from his one littleeye (having lost one in fight with the turkey-cock), a gaze of appealingsorrow, and then a loud quack to second it. But the quack came out oftime, I suppose, for his throat got filled with water, as the hurdlecarried him back again. And then there was scarcely the screw of histail to be seen until he swung up again, and left small doubt by theway he sputtered, and failed to quack, and hung down his poor crest, butwhat he must drown in another minute, and frogs triumph over his body.
Annie was crying, and wringing her hands, and I was about to rush intothe water, although I liked not the look of it, but hoped to hold on bythe hurdle, when a man on horseback came suddenly round the corner ofthe great ash-hedge on the other side of the stream, and his horse'sfeet were in the water.
'Ho, there,' he cried; 'get thee back, boy. The flood will carry theedown like a straw. I will do it for thee, and no trouble.'
With that he leaned forward, and spoke to his mare--she was just of thetint of a strawberry, a young thing, very beautiful--and she arched upher neck, as misliking the job; yet, trusting him, would attempt it. Sheentered the flood, with her dainty fore-legs sloped further and furtherin front of her, and her delicate ears pricked forward, and the size ofher great eyes increasing, but he kept her straight in the turbid rush,by the pressure of his knee on her. Then she looked back, and wonderedat him, as the force of the torrent grew stronger, but he bade her goon and on she went, and it foamed up over her shoulders; and she tossedup her lip and scorned it, for now her courage was waking. Then as therush of it swept her away, and she struck with her forefeet down thestream, he leaned from his saddle in a manner which I never could havethought possible, and caught up old Tom with his left hand, and set himbetween his holsters, and smiled at his faint quack of gratitude. In amoment all these were carried downstream, and the rider lay flat on hishorse, and tossed the hurdle clear from him, and made for the bend ofsmooth water.
They landed some thirty or forty yards lower, in the midst of ourkitchen-garden, where the winter-cabbage was; but though Annie and Icrept in through the hedge, and were full of our thanks and admiringhim, he would answer us never a word, until he had spoken in full to themare, as if explaining the whole to her.
'Sweetheart, I know thou couldst have leaped it,' he said, as he pattedher cheek, being on the ground by this time, and she was nudging up tohim, with the water pattering off her; 'but I had good reason, Winniedear, for making thee go through it.'
She answered him kindly with her soft eyes, and smiled at him verylovingly, and they understood one another. Then he took from hiswaistcoat two peppercorns, and made the old drake swallow them, andtried him softly upon his legs, where the leading gap in the hedge was.Old Tom stood up quite bravely, and clapped his wings, and shook off thewet from his tail-feathers; and then away into the court-yard, and hisfamily gathered around him, and they all made a noise in their throats,and stood up, and put their bills together, to thank God for this greatdeliverance.
Having taken all this trouble, and watched the end of that adventure,the gentleman turned round to us with a pleasant smile on his face, asif he were lightly amused with himself; and we came up and looked athim. He was rather short, about John Fry's height, or may be a littletaller, but very strongly built and springy, as his gait at every stepshowed plainly, although his legs were bowed with much riding, and helooked as if he lived on horseback. To a boy like me he seemed very old,being over twenty, and well-found in beard; but he was not more thanfour-and-twenty, fresh and ruddy looking, with a short nose and keenblue eyes, and a merry waggish jerk about him, as if the world were notin earnest. Yet he had a sharp, stern way, like the crack of a pistol,if anything misliked him; and we knew (for children see such things)that it was safer to tickle than buffet him.
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bsp; 'Well, young uns, what be gaping at?' He gave pretty Annie a chuck onthe chin, and took me all in without winking.
'Your mare,' said I, standing stoutly up, being a tall boy now; 'I neversaw such a beauty, sir. Will you let me have a ride of her?'
'Think thou couldst ride her, lad? She will have no burden but mine.Thou couldst never ride her. Tut! I would be loath to kill thee.'
'Ride her!' I cried with the bravest scorn, for she looked so kind andgentle; 'there never was horse upon Exmoor foaled, but I could tackle inhalf an hour. Only I never ride upon saddle. Take them leathers off ofher.'
He looked at me with a dry little whistle, and thrust his hands into hisbreeches-pockets, and so grinned that I could not stand it. And Annielaid hold of me in such a way that I was almost mad with her. And helaughed, and approved her for doing so. And the worst of all was--hesaid nothing.
'Get away, Annie, will you? Do you think I'm a fool, good sir! Onlytrust me with her, and I will not override her.'
'For that I will go bail, my son. She is liker to override thee. But theground is soft to fall upon, after all this rain. Now come out into theyard, young man, for the sake of your mother's cabbages. And the mellowstraw-bed will be softer for thee, since pride must have its fall. Iam thy mother's cousin, boy, and am going up to house. Tom Faggus is myname, as everybody knows; and this is my young mare, Winnie.'
What a fool I must have been not to know it at once! Tom Faggus, thegreat highwayman, and his young blood-mare, the strawberry! Already herfame was noised abroad, nearly as much as her master's; and my longingto ride her grew tenfold, but fear came at the back of it. Not that Ihad the smallest fear of what the mare could do to me, by fair play andhorse-trickery, but that the glory of sitting upon her seemed to be toogreat for me; especially as there were rumours abroad that she was not amare after all, but a witch. However, she looked like a filly all over,and wonderfully beautiful, with her supple stride, and soft slope ofshoulder, and glossy coat beaded with water, and prominent eyes full ofdocile fire. Whether this came from her Eastern blood of the Arabs newlyimported, and whether the cream-colour, mixed with our bay, led tothat bright strawberry tint, is certainly more than I can decide, beingchiefly acquaint with farm-horses. And these come of any colour andform; you never can count what they will be, and are lucky to get fourlegs to them.
Mr. Faggus gave his mare a wink, and she walked demurely after him, abright young thing, flowing over with life, yet dropping her soul to ahigher one, and led by love to anything; as the manner is of females,when they know what is the best for them. Then Winnie trod lightly uponthe straw, because it had soft muck under it, and her delicate feet cameback again.
'Up for it still, boy, be ye?' Tom Faggus stopped, and the mare stoppedthere; and they looked at me provokingly.
'Is she able to leap, sir? There is good take-off on this side of thebrook.'
Mr. Faggus laughed very quietly, turning round to Winnie so that shemight enter into it. And she, for her part, seemed to know exactly wherethe fun lay.
'Good tumble-off, you mean, my boy. Well, there can be small harm tothee. I am akin to thy family, and know the substance of their skulls.'
'Let me get up,' said I, waxing wroth, for reasons I cannot tell you,because they are too manifold; 'take off your saddle-bag things. I willtry not to squeeze her ribs in, unless she plays nonsense with me.'
Then Mr. Faggus was up on his mettle, at this proud speech of mine; andJohn Fry was running up all the while, and Bill Dadds, and half a dozen.Tom Faggus gave one glance around, and then dropped all regard for me.The high repute of his mare was at stake, and what was my life comparedto it? Through my defiance, and stupid ways, here was I in a duello,and my legs not come to their strength yet, and my arms as limp as aherring.
Something of this occurred to him even in his wrath with me, for hespoke very softly to the filly, who now could scarce subdue herself;but she drew in her nostrils, and breathed to his breath and did all shecould to answer him.
'Not too hard, my dear,' he said: 'led him gently down on the mixen.That will be quite enough.' Then he turned the saddle off, and I wasup in a moment. She began at first so easily, and pricked her ears solovingly, and minced about as if pleased to find so light a weight uponher, that I thought she knew I could ride a little, and feared to showany capers. 'Gee wug, Polly!' cried I, for all the men were now lookingon, being then at the leaving-off time: 'Gee wug, Polly, and show whatthou be'est made of.' With that I plugged my heels into her, and BillyDadds flung his hat up.
Nevertheless, she outraged not, though her eyes were frightening Annie,and John Fry took a pick to keep him safe; but she curbed to and frowith her strong forearms rising like springs ingathered, waiting andquivering grievously, and beginning to sweat about it. Then her mastergave a shrill clear whistle, when her ears were bent towards him, and Ifelt her form beneath me gathering up like whalebone, and her hind-legscoming under her, and I knew that I was in for it.
First she reared upright in the air, and struck me full on the nose withher comb, till I bled worse than Robin Snell made me; and then downwith her fore-feet deep in the straw, and her hind-feet going to heaven.Finding me stick to her still like wax, for my mettle was up as herswas, away she flew with me swifter than ever I went before, or since, Itrow. She drove full-head at the cobwall--'Oh, Jack, slip off,' screamedAnnie--then she turned like light, when I thought to crush her, andground my left knee against it. 'Mux me,' I cried, for my breeches werebroken, and short words went the furthest--'if you kill me, you shalldie with me.' Then she took the court-yard gate at a leap, knocking mywords between my teeth, and then right over a quick set hedge, as if thesky were a breath to her; and away for the water-meadows, while I layon her neck like a child at the breast and wished I had never beenborn. Straight away, all in the front of the wind, and scattering cloudsaround her, all I knew of the speed we made was the frightful flash ofher shoulders, and her mane like trees in a tempest. I felt the earthunder us rushing away, and the air left far behind us, and my breathcame and went, and I prayed to God, and was sorry to be so late of it.
All the long swift while, without power of thought, I clung to her crestand shoulders, and dug my nails into her creases, and my toes into herflank-part, and was proud of holding on so long, though sure of beingbeaten. Then in her fury at feeling me still, she rushed at anotherdevice for it, and leaped the wide water-trough sideways across, to andfro, till no breath was left in me. The hazel-boughs took me too hardin the face, and the tall dog-briers got hold of me, and the ache ofmy back was like crimping a fish; till I longed to give up, thoroughlybeaten, and lie there and die in the cresses. But there came a shrillwhistle from up the home-hill, where the people had hurried to watch us;and the mare stopped as if with a bullet, then set off for home withthe speed of a swallow, and going as smoothly and silently. I never haddreamed of such delicate motion, fluent, and graceful, and ambient,soft as the breeze flitting over the flowers, but swift as the summerlightning. I sat up again, but my strength was all spent, and no timeleft to recover it, and though she rose at our gate like a bird, Itumbled off into the mixen.
Lorna Doone: A Romance of Exmoor Page 11