CHAPTER LIV
MUTUAL DISCOMFITURE
It must not be supposed that I was altogether so thick-headed as Jeremywould have made me out. But it is part of my character that I like otherpeople to think me slow, and to labour hard to enlighten me, while allthe time I can say to myself, 'This man is shallower than I am; it ispleasant to see his shoals come up while he is sounding mine so!' Notthat I would so behave, God forbid, with anybody (be it man or woman)who in simple heart approached me, with no gauge of intellect. But whenthe upper hand is taken, upon the faith of one's patience, by a man ofeven smaller wits (not that Jeremy was that, neither could he have livedto be thought so), why, it naturally happens, that we knuckle under,with an ounce of indignation.
Jeremy's tale would have moved me greatly both with sorrow and anger,even without my guess at first, and now my firm belief, that the childof those unlucky parents was indeed my Lorna. And as I thought of thelady's troubles, and her faith in Providence, and her cruel, childlessdeath, and then imagined how my darling would be overcome to hear it,you may well believe that my quick replies to Jeremy Stickles's banterwere but as the flourish of a drum to cover the sounds of pain.
For when he described the heavy coach and the persons in and upon it,and the breaking down at Dulverton, and the place of their destination,as well as the time and the weather, and the season of the year, myheart began to burn within me, and my mind replaced the pictures, firstof the foreign lady's-maid by the pump caressing me, and then of thecoach struggling up the hill, and the beautiful dame, and the finelittle boy, with the white cockade in his hat; but most of all thelittle girl, dark-haired and very lovely, and having even in those daysthe rich soft look of Lorna.
But when he spoke of the necklace thrown over the head of the littlemaiden, and of her disappearance, before my eyes arose at once theflashing of the beacon-fire, the lonely moors embrowned with the light,the tramp of the outlaw cavalcade, and the helpless child head-downward,lying across the robber's saddle-bow.
Then I remembered my own mad shout of boyish indignation, and marvelledat the strange long way by which the events of life come round. Andwhile I thought of my own return, and childish attempt to hide myselffrom sorrow in the sawpit, and the agony of my mother's tears, it didnot fail to strike me as a thing of omen, that the selfsame day shouldbe, both to my darling and myself, the blackest and most miserable ofall youthful days.
The King's Commissioner thought it wise, for some good reason of hisown, to conceal from me, for the present, the name of the poor ladysupposed to be Lorna's mother; and knowing that I could easily nowdiscover it, without him, I let that question abide awhile. Indeed I washalf afraid to hear it, remembering that the nobler and the wealthiershe proved to be, the smaller was my chance of winning such a wife forplain John Ridd. Not that she would give me up: that I never dreamed of.But that others would interfere; or indeed I myself might find it onlyhonest to relinquish her. That last thought was a dreadful blow, andtook my breath away from me.
Jeremy Stickles was quite decided--and of course the discovery beinghis, he had a right to be so--that not a word of all these things mustbe imparted to Lorna herself, or even to my mother, or any onewhatever. 'Keep it tight as wax, my lad,' he cried, with a wink ofgreat expression 'this belongs to me, mind; and the credit, ay, and thepremium, and the right of discount, are altogether mine. It would havetaken you fifty years to put two and two together so, as I did, like aclap of thunder. Ah, God has given some men brains; and others have goodfarms and money, and a certain skill in the lower beasts. Each must usehis special talent. You work your farm: I work my brains. In the end, mylad, I shall beat you.'
'Then, Jeremy, what a fool you must be, if you cudgel your brains tomake money of this, to open the barn-door to me, and show me all yourthreshing.'
'Not a whit, my son. Quite the opposite. Two men always thresh betterthan one. And here I have you bound to use your flail, one two, withmine, and yet in strictest honour bound not to bushel up, till I tellyou.'
'But,' said I, being much amused by a Londoner's brave, yet uncertain,use of simplest rural metaphors, for he had wholly forgotten thewinnowing: 'surely if I bushel up, even when you tell me, I must takehalf-measure.'
'So you shall, my boy,' he answered, 'if we can only cheat thoseconfounded knaves of Equity. You shall take the beauty, my son, andthe elegance, and the love, and all that--and, my boy, I will take themoney.'
This he said in a way so dry, and yet so richly unctuous, that beinggifted somehow by God, with a kind of sense of queerness, I fell back inmy chair, and laughed, though the underside of my laugh was tears.
'Now, Jeremy, how if I refuse to keep this half as tight as wax. Youbound me to no such partnership, before you told the story; and I am notsure, by any means, of your right to do so afterwards.'
'Tush!' he replied: 'I know you too well, to look for meanness in you.If from pure goodwill, John Ridd, and anxiety to relieve you, I made nocondition precedent, you are not the man to take advantage, as a lawyermight. I do not even want your promise. As sure as I hold this glass,and drink your health and love in another drop (forced on me by patheticwords), so surely will you be bound to me, until I do release you. Tush!I know men well by this time: a mere look of trust from one is worthanother's ten thousand oaths.'
'Jeremy, you are right,' I answered; 'at least as regards the issue.Although perhaps you were not right in leading me into a bargain likethis, without my own consent or knowledge. But supposing that we shouldboth be shot in this grand attack on the valley (for I mean to gowith you now, heart and soul), is Lorna to remain untold of that whichchanges all her life?'
'Both shot!' cried Jeremy Stickles: 'my goodness, boy, talk not likethat! And those Doones are cursed good shots too. Nay, nay, the yellowsshall go in front; we attack on the Somerset side, I think. I from ahill will reconnoitre, as behoves a general, you shall stick behind atree, if we can only find one big enough to hide you. You and I to beshot, John Ridd, with all this inferior food for powder anxious to bedevoured?'
I laughed, for I knew his cool hardihood, and never-flinching courage;and sooth to say no coward would have dared to talk like that.
'But when one comes to think of it,' he continued, smiling at himself;'some provision should be made for even that unpleasant chance. I willleave the whole in writing, with orders to be opened, etc., etc.--Now nomore of that, my boy; a cigarro after schnapps, and go to meet my yellowboys.'
His 'yellow boys,' as he called the Somersetshire trained bands, wereeven now coming down the valley from the London Road, as every one sinceI went up to town, grandly entitled the lane to the moors. There was onegood point about these men, that having no discipline at all, they madepretence to none whatever. Nay, rather they ridiculed the thing, asbelow men of any spirit. On the other hand, Master Stickles's trooperslooked down on these native fellows from a height which I hope they maynever tumble, for it would break the necks of all of them.
Now these fine natives came along, singing, for their very lives, a songthe like of which set down here would oust my book from modestpeople, and make everybody say, 'this man never can have loved Lorna.'Therefore, the less of that the better; only I thought, 'what adifference from the goodly psalms of the ale house!'
Having finished their canticle, which contained more mirth than melody,they drew themselves up, in a sort of way supposed by them to bemilitary, each man with heel and elbow struck into those of hisneighbour, and saluted the King's Commissioner. 'Why, where are yourofficers?' asked Master Stickles; 'how is it that you have no officers?'Upon this there arose a general grin, and a knowing look passed alongtheir faces, even up to the man by the gatepost. 'Are you going to tellme, or not,' said Jeremy, 'what is become of your officers?'
'Plaise zur,' said one little fellow at last, being nodded at by therest to speak, in right of his known eloquence; 'hus tould Harfizers, asa wor no nade of un, now King's man hiszell wor coom, a puppose vor tocommand us laike.'
'And do you mean
to say, you villains,' cried Jeremy, scarce knowingwhether to laugh, or to swear, or what to do; 'that your officers tooktheir dismissal thus, and let you come on without them?'
'What could 'em do?' asked the little man, with reason certainly on hisside: 'hus zent 'em about their business, and they was glad enough togoo.'
'Well!' said poor Jeremy, turning to me; 'a pretty state of things,John! Threescore cobblers, and farming men, plasterers, tailors, andkettles-to-mend; and not a man to keep order among them, except myblessed self, John! And I trow there is not one among them could hit allin-door flying. The Doones will make riddles of all of us.'
However, he had better hopes when the sons of Devon appeared, asthey did in about an hour's time; fine fellows, and eager to provethemselves. These had not discarded their officers, but marched in goodobedience to them, and were quite prepared to fight the men of Somerset(if need be) in addition to the Doones. And there was scarcely a manamong them but could have trounced three of the yellow men, and wouldhave done it gladly too, in honour of the red facings.
'Do you mean to suppose, Master Jeremy Stickles,' said I, looking onwith amazement, beholding also all our maidens at the upstair windowswondering; 'that we, my mother a widow woman, and I a young man of smallestate, can keep and support all these precious fellows, both yellowones, and red ones, until they have taken the Doone Glen?'
'God forbid it, my son!' he replied, laying a finger upon his lip:'Nay, nay, I am not of the shabby order, when I have the strings ofgovernment. Kill your sheep at famine prices, and knead your bread ata figure expressing the rigours of last winter. Let Annie make out thebill every day, and I at night will double it. You may take my word forit, Master John, this spring-harvest shall bring you in three timesas much as last autumn's did. If they cheated you in town, my lad, youshall have your change in the country. Take thy bill, and write downquickly.'
However this did not meet my views of what an honest man should do; andI went to consult my mother about it, as all the accounts would be madein her name.
Dear mother thought that if the King paid only half again as much asother people would have to pay, it would be perhaps the proper thing;the half being due for loyalty: and here she quoted an ancient saying,--
The King and his staff. Be a man and a half:
which, according to her judgment, ruled beyond dispute the law of thepresent question. To argue with her after that (which she brought upwith such triumph) would have been worse than useless. Therefore I justtold Annie to make the bills at a third below the current market prices;so that the upshot would be fair. She promised me honestly that shewould; but with a twinkle in her bright blue eyes, which she must havecaught from Tom Faggus. It always has appeared to me that stern anddownright honesty upon money matters is a thing not understood of women;be they as good as good can be.
The yellows and the reds together numbered a hundred and twenty men,most of whom slept in our barns and stacks; and besides these we hadfifteen troopers of the regular army. You may suppose that all thecountry was turned upside down about it; and the folk who came to seethem drill--by no means a needless exercise--were a greater plaguethan the soldiers. The officers too of the Devonshire hand were such atorment to us, that we almost wished their men had dismissed them, asthe Somerset troop had done with theirs. For we could not keep them outof our house, being all young men of good family, and therefore not tobe met with bars. And having now three lovely maidens (for even Lizziemight be called so, when she cared to please), mother and I were atwit's ends, on account of those blessed officers. I never got a wink ofsleep; they came whistling under the window so; and directly I went outto chase them, there was nothing but a cat to see.
Therefore all of us were right glad (except perhaps Farmer Snowe, fromwhom we had bought some victuals at rare price), when Jeremy Sticklesgave orders to march, and we began to try to do it. A good deal ofboasting went overhead, as our men defiled along the lane; and the thickbroad patins of pennywort jutted out between the stones, ready toheal their bruises. The parish choir came part of the way, and thesinging-loft from Countisbury; and they kept our soldiers' spirits upwith some of the most pugnacious Psalms. Parson Bowden marched ahead,leading all our van and file, as against the Papists; and promisingto go with us, till we came to bullet distance. Therefore we marchedbravely on, and children came to look at us. And I wondered where UncleReuben was, who ought to have led the culverins (whereof we had no lessthan three), if Stickles could only have found him; and then I thoughtof little Ruth; and without any fault on my part, my heart went downwithin me.
The culverins were laid on bark; and all our horses pulling them, andlooking round every now and then, with their ears curved up like asquirrel'd nut, and their noses tossing anxiously, to know what sortof plough it was man had been pleased to put behind them--man, whoseendless whims and wildness they could never understand, any more thanthey could satisfy. However, they pulled their very best--as all ourhorses always do--and the culverins went up the hill, without smackof whip, or swearing. It had been arranged, very justly, no doubt, andquite in keeping with the spirit of the Constitution, but as it provednot too wisely, that either body of men should act in its own countyonly. So when we reached the top of the hill, the sons of Devon marchedon, and across the track leading into Doone-gate, so as to fetch roundthe western side, and attack with their culverin from the cliffs, whencethe sentry had challenged me on the night of my passing the entrance.Meanwhile the yellow lads were to stay upon the eastern highland, whenceUncle Reuben and myself had reconnoitred so long ago; and whence I hadleaped into the valley at the time of the great snow-drifts. And herethey were not to show themselves; but keep their culverin in the woods,until their cousins of Devon appeared on the opposite parapet of theglen.
The third culverin was entrusted to the fifteen troopers; who, with tenpicked soldiers from either trained hand, making in all five-and-thirtymen, were to assault the Doone-gate itself, while the outlaws wereplaced between two fires from the eastern cliff and the western. Andwith this force went Jeremy Stickles, and with it went myself, asknowing more about the passage than any other stranger did. Therefore,if I have put it clearly, as I strive to do, you will see that theDoones must repulse at once three simultaneous attacks, from an armynumbering in the whole one hundred and thirty-five men, not includingthe Devonshire officers; fifty men on each side, I mean, and thirty-fiveat the head of the valley.
The tactics of this grand campaign appeared to me so clever, andbeautifully ordered, that I commended Colonel Stickles, as everybodynow called him, for his great ability and mastery of the art of war. Headmitted that he deserved high praise; but said that he was not by anymeans equally certain of success, so large a proportion of his forcesbeing only a raw militia, brave enough no doubt for anything, when theysaw their way to it; but knowing little of gunnery, and wholly unusedto be shot at. Whereas all the Doones were practised marksmen, beingcompelled when lads (like the Balearic slingers) to strike down theirmeals before tasting them. And then Colonel Stickles asked me, whether Imyself could stand fire; he knew that I was not a coward, but this wasa different question. I told him that I had been shot at, once or twicebefore; but nevertheless disliked it, as much as almost anything. Uponthat he said that I would do; for that when a man got over the firstblush of diffidence, he soon began to look upon it as a puff of destiny.
I wish I could only tell what happened, in the battle of that day,especially as nearly all the people round these parts, who never sawgun-fire in it, have gotten the tale so much amiss; and some of themwill even stand in front of my own hearth, and contradict me to theteeth; although at the time they were not born, nor their fathers putinto breeches. But in truth, I cannot tell, exactly, even the part inwhich I helped, how then can I be expected, time by time, to lay beforeyou, all the little ins and outs of places, where I myself was not? OnlyI can contradict things, which I know could not have been; and what Iplainly saw should not be controverted in my own house.
Now we five-
and-thirty men lay back a little way round the corner,in the hollow of the track which leads to the strong Doone-gate. Ourculverin was in amongst us, loaded now to the muzzle, and it was notcomfortable to know that it might go off at any time. Although theyeomanry were not come (according to arrangement), some of us had horsesthere; besides the horses who dragged the cannon, and now were sniffingat it. And there were plenty of spectators to mind these horses for us,as soon as we should charge; inasmuch as all our friends and neighbours,who had so keenly prepared for the battle, now resolved to take no part,but look on, and praise the winners.
At last we heard the loud bang-bang, which proved that Devon andSomerset were pouring their indignation hot into the den of malefactors,or at least so we supposed; therefore at double quick march we advancedround the bend of the cliff which had hidden us, hoping to find the gateundefended, and to blow down all barriers with the fire of our cannon.And indeed it seemed likely at first to be so, for the wild andmountainous gorge of rock appeared to be all in pure loneliness, exceptwhere the coloured coats of our soldiers, and their metal trappings,shone with the sun behind them. Therefore we shouted a loud hurrah, asfor an easy victory.
But while the sound of our cheer rang back among the crags above us, ashrill clear whistle cleft the air for a single moment, and then a dozencarbines bellowed, and all among us flew murderous lead. Several of ourmen rolled over, but the rest rushed on like Britons, Jeremy and myselfin front, while we heard the horses plunging at the loaded gun behindus. 'Now, my lads,' cried Jeremy, 'one dash, and we are beyond them!'For he saw that the foe was overhead in the gallery of brushwood.
Our men with a brave shout answered him, for his courage was fineexample; and we leaped in under the feet of the foe, before they couldload their guns again. But here, when the foremost among us were past,an awful crash rang behind us, with the shrieks of men, and the din ofmetal, and the horrible screaming of horses. The trunk of the treehad been launched overhead, and crashed into the very midst of us. Ourcannon was under it, so were two men, and a horse with his poor backbroken. Another horse vainly struggled to rise, with his thigh-bonesmashed and protruding.
Now I lost all presence of mind at this, for I loved both those goodhorses, and shouting for any to follow me, dashed headlong into thecavern. Some five or six men came after me, the foremost of whom wasJeremy, when a storm of shot whistled and patted around me, with a blazeof light and a thunderous roar. On I leaped, like a madman, and pouncedon one gunner, and hurled him across his culverin; but the others hadfled, and a heavy oak door fell to with a bang, behind them. So utterlywere my senses gone, and naught but strength remaining, that I caught upthe cannon with both hands, and dashed it, breech-first, at the doorway.The solid oak burst with the blow, and the gun stuck fast, like abuilder's putlog.
But here I looked round in vain for any one to come and follow up mysuccess. The scanty light showed me no figure moving through the lengthof the tunnel behind me; only a heavy groan or two went to my heart, andchilled it. So I hurried back to seek Jeremy, fearing that he must besmitten down.
And so indeed I found him, as well as three other poor fellows, struckby the charge of the culverin, which had passed so close beside me. Twoof the four were as dead as stones, and growing cold already, but Jeremyand the other could manage to groan, just now and then. So I turned myattention to them, and thought no more of fighting.
Having so many wounded men, and so many dead among us, we loitered atthe cavern's mouth, and looked at one another, wishing only for somebodyto come and take command of us. But no one came; and I was griefed somuch about poor Jeremy, besides being wholly unused to any violence ofbloodshed, that I could only keep his head up, and try to stop him frombleeding. And he looked up at me pitifully, being perhaps in a haze ofthought, as a calf looks at a butcher.
The shot had taken him in the mouth; about that no doubt could be, fortwo of his teeth were in his beard, and one of his lips was wanting. Ilaid his shattered face on my breast, and nursed him, as a woman might.But he looked at me with a jerk at this; and I saw that he wantedcoolness.
While here we stayed, quite out of danger (for the fellows from thegallery could by no means shoot us, even if they remained there, and theoaken door whence the others fled was blocked up by the culverin), a boywho had no business there (being in fact our clerk's apprentice to theart of shoe-making) came round the corner upon us in the manner whichboys, and only boys, can use with grace and freedom; that is to say,with a sudden rush, and a sidelong step, and an impudence,--
'Got the worst of it!' cried the boy; 'better be off all of you.Zoomerzett and Devon a vighting; and the Doones have drashed 'em both.Maister Ridd, even thee be drashed.'
We few, who yet remained of the force which was to have won theDoone-gate, gazed at one another, like so many fools, and nothing more.For we still had some faint hopes of winning the day, and recovering ourreputation, by means of what the other men might have done without us.And we could not understand at all how Devonshire and Somerset, beingembarked in the same cause, should be fighting with one another.
Finding nothing more to be done in the way of carrying on the war, welaid poor Master Stickles and two more of the wounded upon the carriageof bark and hurdles, whereon our gun had lain; and we rolled the guninto the river, and harnessed the horses yet alive, and put the othersout of their pain, and sadly wended homewards, feeling ourselves to bethoroughly beaten, yet ready to maintain that it was no fault of ourswhatever. And in this opinion the women joined, being only too glad andthankful to see us home alive again.
Now, this enterprise having failed so, I prefer not to dwell too longupon it; only just to show the mischief which lay at the root of thefailure. And this mischief was the vile jealousy betwixt red and yellowuniform. Now I try to speak impartially, belonging no more to Somersetthan I do to Devonshire, living upon the borders, and born of eithercounty. The tale was told me by one side first; and then quite to adifferent tune by the other; and then by both together, with very hotwords of reviling, and a desire to fight it out again. And putting thiswith that, the truth appears to be as follows:--
The men of Devon, who bore red facings, had a long way to go round thehills, before they could get into due position on the western side ofthe Doone Glen. And knowing that their cousins in yellow would claim thewhole of the glory, if allowed to be first with the firing, these worthyfellows waited not to take good aim with their cannons, seeing theothers about to shoot; but fettled it anyhow on the slope, pointing in ageneral direction and trusting in God for aimworthiness, laid the ropeto the breech, and fired. Now as Providence ordained it, the shot,which was a casual mixture of anything considered hard--for instance,jug-bottoms and knobs of doors--the whole of this pernicious dose camescattering and shattering among the unfortunate yellow men upon theopposite cliff; killing one and wounding two.
Now what did the men of Somerset do, but instead of waiting for theirfriends to send round and beg pardon, train their gun full mouth uponthem, and with a vicious meaning shoot. Not only this, but they loudlycheered, when they saw four or five red coats lie low; for which savagefeeling not even the remarks of the Devonshire men concerning theircoats could entirely excuse them. Now I need not tell the rest of it,for the tale makes a man discontented. Enough that both sides waxedhotter and hotter with the fire of destruction. And but that the gorgeof the cliffs lay between, very few would have lived to tell of it; forour western blood becomes stiff and firm, when churned with the sense ofwrong in it.
At last the Doones (who must have laughed at the thunder passingoverhead) recalling their men from the gallery, issued out of Gwenny'sgate (which had been wholly overlooked) and fell on the rear ofthe Somerset men, and slew four beside their cannon. Then while thesurvivors ran away, the outlaws took the hot culverin, and rolled itdown into their valley. Thus, of the three guns set forth that morning,only one ever came home again, and that was the gun of the Devonshiremen, who dragged it home themselves, with the view of making a boastabout it.
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This was a melancholy end of our brave setting out, and everybody blamedevery one else; and several of us wanted to have the whole thing overagain, as then we must have righted it. But upon one point all agreed,by some reason not clear to me, that the root of the evil was to befound in the way Parson Bowden went up the hill, with his hat on, and nocassock.
Lorna Doone: A Romance of Exmoor Page 55