CHAPTER LXXI
A LONG ACCOUNT SETTLED
Having resolved on a night-assault (as our undisciplined men,three-fourths of whom had never been shot at, could not fairly beexpected to march up to visible musket-mouths), we cared not much aboutdrilling our forces, only to teach them to hold a musket, so far as wecould supply that weapon to those with the cleverest eyes; and to givethem familiarity with the noise it made in exploding. And we fixed uponFriday night for our venture, because the moon would be at the full; andour powder was coming from Dulverton on the Friday afternoon.
Uncle Reuben did not mean to expose himself to shooting, his time oflife for risk of life being now well over and the residue too valuable.But his counsels, and his influence, and above all his warehousemen,well practised in beating carpets, were of true service to us. Hisminers also did great wonders, having a grudge against the Doones; asindeed who had not for thirty miles round their valley?
It was settled that the yeomen, having good horses under them, shouldgive account (with the miners' help) of as many Doones as might bedespatched to plunder the pretended gold. And as soon as we knew thatthis party of robbers, be it more or less, was out of hearing from thevalley, we were to fall to, ostensibly at the Doone-gate (which wasimpregnable now), but in reality upon their rear, by means of my oldwater-slide. For I had chosen twenty young fellows, partly miners, andpartly warehousemen, and sheep farmers, and some of other vocations, butall to be relied upon for spirit and power of climbing. And with propertools to aid us, and myself to lead the way, I felt no doubt whateverbut that we could all attain the crest where first I had met with Lorna.
Upon the whole, I rejoiced that Lorna was not present now. It must havebeen irksome to her feelings to have all her kindred and old associates(much as she kept aloof from them) put to death without ceremony, orelse putting all of us to death. For all of us were resolved thistime to have no more shilly-shallying; but to go through with a nastybusiness, in the style of honest Englishmen, when the question comes to'Your life or mine.'
There was hardly a man among us who had not suffered bitterly from themiscreants now before us. One had lost his wife perhaps, another hadlost a daughter--according to their ages, another had lost his favouritecow; in a word, there was scarcely any one who had not to complain ofa hayrick; and what surprised me then, not now, was that the men leastinjured made the greatest push concerning it. But be the wrong too greatto speak of, or too small to swear about, from poor Kit Badcock to richMaster Huckaback, there was not one but went heart and soul for stampingout these firebrands.
The moon was lifting well above the shoulder of the uplands, when we,the chosen band, set forth, having the short cut along the valleys tofoot of the Bagworthy water; and therefore having allowed the rest anhour, to fetch round the moors and hills; we were not to begin our climbuntil we heard a musket fired from the heights on the left-hand side,where John Fry himself was stationed, upon his own and his wife'srequest; so as to keep out of action. And that was the place where I hadbeen used to sit, and to watch for Lorna. And John Fry was to fire hisgun, with a ball of wool inside it, so soon as he heard the hurly-burlyat the Doone-gate beginning; which we, by reason of waterfall, could nothear, down in the meadows there.
We waited a very long time, with the moon marching up heavensteadfastly, and the white fog trembling in chords and columns, likea silver harp of the meadows. And then the moon drew up the fogs, andscarfed herself in white with them; and so being proud, gleamed upon thewater, like a bride at her looking-glass; and yet there was no sound ofeither John Fry, or his blunderbuss.
I began to think that the worthy John, being out of all danger, andhaving brought a counterpane (according to his wife's directions,because one of the children had a cold), must veritably have gone tosleep; leaving other people to kill, or be killed, as might be the willof God; so that he were comfortable. But herein I did wrong to John,and am ready to acknowledge it; for suddenly the most awful noise thatanything short of thunder could make, came down among the rocks, andwent and hung upon the corners.
'The signal, my lads,' I cried, leaping up and rubbing my eyes; for evennow, while condemning John unjustly, I was giving him right to be hardupon me. 'Now hold on by the rope, and lay your quarter-staffs across,my lads; and keep your guns pointing to heaven, lest haply we shoot oneanother.'
'Us shan't never shutt one anoother, wi' our goons at that mark, Ireckon,' said an oldish chap, but as tough as leather, and esteemed awit for his dryness.
'You come next to me, old Ike; you be enough to dry up the waters; now,remember, all lean well forward. If any man throws his weight back, downhe goes; and perhaps he may never get up again; and most likely he willshoot himself.'
I was still more afraid of their shooting me; for my chief alarm inthis steep ascent was neither of the water nor of the rocks, but ofthe loaded guns we bore. If any man slipped, off might go his gun, andhowever good his meaning, I being first was most likely to take far morethan I fain would apprehend.
For this cause, I had debated with Uncle Ben and with Cousin Tom as tothe expediency of our climbing with guns unloaded. But they, not beingin the way themselves, assured me that there was nothing to fear, exceptthrough uncommon clumsiness; and that as for charging our guns atthe top, even veteran troops could scarcely be trusted to perform itproperly in the hurry, and the darkness, and the noise of fightingbefore them.
However, thank God, though a gun went off, no one was any the worsefor it, neither did the Doones notice it, in the thick of the firing infront of them. For the orders to those of the sham attack, conducted byTom Faggus, were to make the greatest possible noise, without exposureof themselves; until we, in the rear, had fallen to; which John Fry wasagain to give the signal of.
Therefore we, of the chosen band, stole up the meadow quietly, keepingin the blots of shade, and hollow of the watercourse. And the earliestnotice the Counsellor had, or any one else, of our presence, was theblazing of the log-wood house, where lived that villain Carver. Itwas my especial privilege to set this house on fire; upon which I hadinsisted, exclusively and conclusively. No other hand but mineshould lay a brand, or strike steel on flint for it; I had made allpreparations carefully for a goodly blaze. And I must confess that Irubbed my hands, with a strong delight and comfort, when I saw the homeof that man, who had fired so many houses, having its turn of smoke, andblaze, and of crackling fury.
We took good care, however, to burn no innocent women or children inthat most righteous destruction. For we brought them all out beforehand;some were glad, and some were sorry; according to their dispositions.For Carver had ten or a dozen wives; and perhaps that had something todo with his taking the loss of Lorna so easily. One child I noticed, asI saved him; a fair and handsome little fellow, whom (if Carver Doonecould love anything on earth beside his wretched self) he did love. Theboy climbed on my back and rode; and much as I hated his father, it wasnot in my heart to say or do a thing to vex him.
Leaving these poor injured people to behold their burning home, we drewaside, by my directions, into the covert beneath the cliff. But notbefore we had laid our brands to three other houses, after calling thewomen forth, and bidding them go for their husbands, and to come andfight a hundred of us. In the smoke and rush, and fire, they believedthat we were a hundred; and away they ran, in consternation, to thebattle at the Doone-gate.
'All Doone-town is on fire, on fire!' we heard them shrieking as theywent; 'a hundred soldiers are burning it, with a dreadful great man atthe head of them!'
Presently, just as I expected, back came the warriors of the Doones;leaving but two or three at the gate, and burning with wrath to crushunder foot the presumptuous clowns in their valley. Just then the waxingfire leaped above the red crest of the cliffs, and danced on the pillarsof the forest, and lapped like a tide on the stones of the slope. Allthe valley flowed with light, and the limpid waters reddened, and thefair young women shone, and the naked children glistened.
But the finest sigh
t of all was to see those haughty men striding downthe causeway darkly, reckless of their end, but resolute to have twolives for every one. A finer dozen of young men could not have beenfound in the world perhaps, nor a braver, nor a viler one.
Seeing how few there were of them, I was very loath to fire, although Icovered the leader, who appeared to be dashing Charley; for they were ateasy distance now, brightly shone by the fire-light, yet ignorant whereto look for us. I thought that we might take them prisoners--thoughwhat good that could be God knows, as they must have been hangedthereafter--anyhow I was loath to shoot, or to give the word to myfollowers.
But my followers waited for no word; they saw a fair shot at the menthey abhorred, the men who had robbed them of home or of love, and thechance was too much for their charity. At a signal from old Ikey, wholevelled his own gun first, a dozen muskets were discharged, and halfof the Doones dropped lifeless, like so many logs of firewood, orchopping-blocks rolled over.
Although I had seen a great battle before, and a hundred times thecarnage, this appeared to me to be horrible; and I was at first inclinedto fall upon our men for behaving so. But one instant showed me thatthey were right; for while the valley was filled with howling, and withshrieks of women, and the beams of the blazing houses fell, and hissedin the bubbling river; all the rest of the Doones leaped at us, likeso many demons. They fired wildly, not seeing us well among the hazelbushes; and then they clubbed their muskets, or drew their swords, asmight be; and furiously drove at us.
For a moment, although we were twice their number, we fell back beforetheir valorous fame, and the power of their onset. For my part, admiringtheir courage greatly, and counting it slur upon manliness that twoshould be down upon one so, I withheld my hand awhile; for I cared tomeet none but Carver; and he was not among them. The whirl and hurryof this fight, and the hard blows raining down--for now all guns wereempty--took away my power of seeing, or reasoning upon anything. Yetone thing I saw, which dwelled long with me; and that was ChristopherBadcock spending his life to get Charley's.
How he had found out, none may tell; both being dead so long ago; but,at any rate, he had found out that Charley was the man who had robbedhim of his wife and honour. It was Carver Doone who took her away, butCharleworth Doone was beside him; and, according to cast of dice, shefell to Charley's share. All this Kit Badcock (who was mad, accordingto our measures) had discovered, and treasured up; and now was hisrevenge-time.
He had come into the conflict without a weapon of any kind; only beggingme to let him be in the very thick of it. For him, he said, life was nomatter, after the loss of his wife and child; but death was matter tohim, and he meant to make the most of it. Such a face I never saw, andnever hope to see again, as when poor Kit Badcock spied Charley comingtowards us.
We had thought this man a patient fool, a philosopher of a little sort,or one who could feel nothing. And his quiet manner of going about, andthe gentleness of his answers (when some brutes asked him where his wifewas, and whether his baby had been well-trussed), these had misled usto think that the man would turn the mild cheek to everything. But I, inthe loneliness of our barn, had listened, and had wept with him.
Therefore was I not surprised, so much as all the rest of us, when, inthe foremost of red light, Kit went up to Charleworth Doone, as if tosome inheritance; and took his seisin of right upon him, being himself apowerful man; and begged a word aside with him. What they said aside, Iknow not; all I know is that without weapon, each man killed the other.And Margery Badcock came, and wept, and hung upon her poor husband; anddied, that summer, of heart-disease.
Now for these and other things (whereof I could tell a thousand) was thereckoning come that night; and not a line we missed of it; soon as ourbad blood was up. I like not to tell of slaughter, though it might beof wolves and tigers; and that was a night of fire and slaughter, andof very long-harboured revenge. Enough that ere the daylight brokeupon that wan March morning, the only Doones still left alive were theCounsellor and Carver. And of all the dwellings of the Doones (inhabitedwith luxury, and luscious taste, and licentiousness) not even one wasleft, but all made potash in the river.
This may seem a violent and unholy revenge upon them. And I (who ledthe heart of it) have in these my latter years doubted how I shallbe judged, not of men--for God only knows the errors of man'sjudgments--but by that great God Himself, the front of whose forehead ismercy.
Lorna Doone: A Romance of Exmoor Page 71