The MS. in a Red Box Part 25

CHAPTER XXI

There is no need for me to make a long story of how I fared across the fen to Messic Mere, and, borrowing a punt belonging to Hollings (without the owner's leave, not daring to show myself), poled up the river Torne to within half a mile of Wroot, and then struck northward over the quaking bog to Lindholme. I missed the right turn more than once, and had some pretty tough work to do in getting on the track again, and some narrow escapes from hidden pools and mire-pits; but I reached Lindholme before darkness fell.

It is an island of gravelly limestone, surrounded by a sea of bog, soft as sponge and full of water, on which I should not have ventured, although I knew the course to take, but for my present peril. For nine months of the year, Lindholme was then as much cut off from the rest of the world as if it had been a lonely rock in mid-ocean, for ever beaten by stormy waves. In the winter it was accessible by flat-bottomed boats, and during a hard frost one might walk over, or go on skates.

The islet is about three-quarters of a mile long and an eighth of a mile wide. Toward the northern end it rises into a small hill, near the foot of which there is a spring of clear, sweet water. How it comes to pa.s.s that there is such a spring, when all the water in the bog around it is as brown as October ale, I do not understand. At the time of which I write, a grove of oaks grew north of the hill, and a pretty thick plantation of willows and alders occupied the southern tongue of the island. The hermit inhabited a stud-bound house with three rooms, roughly but curiously furnished. A little way off stood a row of buildings--three low hovels of stone and half a dozen wooden huts of different sizes. Here lived the hermit's servants--a man and his wife and their son, a big lad of sixteen or seventeen years of age.

Here, too, were kept the hermit's farm-stock--a small bull and four cows, a dozen sheep, and a large number of poultry.

Bland, or rather his man and boy, cultivated abut one half of the soil of his domain with plough and spade, getting amazingly heavy crops of corn and pulse.

The hermit was of middle stature, perhaps five feet eight inches, strongly built, not remarkable but for his face, which was strangely irregular, as though it had not been finished in the making. His nose was not to be described as Roman, or aquiline, or by any term commonly used in speaking of that feature. A child might make one like it in modelling a face in clay. His mouth was large, the lower lip hanging.

The eyebrows projected far over his eyes, which had a peculiar look, due, as one found on close observation, to the fact that the pupil of one was of a bluish grey and that of the other almost black. His abundant dark hair and great beard were streaked with silver.

Rumour a.s.signed various causes for his lonely life, as that he had been crossed in love; that he had been betrayed by a friend; that he had sold himself to the devil. I had made acquaintance with him on Messic Mere one day, when we happened to meet as both of us were fis.h.i.+ng for pike, and we fell into anglers' talk. He asked me to his house, promising me rare sport in fowling, and he made good his word during a week which I spent with him. We were much too busy by day, and sometimes by night, for discourse on anything but our sport, and, when not so engaged, we were too sleepy for conversation, so I knew no more of him than that he was an accomplished sportsman, and, as one saw by his fields and barn and stacks and livestock, a good farmer, though his way of doing things was new and strange to me.

As I now drew near the hermitage, the dogs rushed out, a mastiff and a nondescript more like a lurcher than any breed I knew. At first, they came on furiously, but quickly knew me and changed their fierceness for welcoming bark. Bland came to his door, seeming surprised by their friendliness to a stranger, but he too knew me as soon as I spoke, and received me with all kindness. He looked with some curiosity at my plaistered face and marshman's attire, but he asked no question, making me welcome to share his evening meal. I judged it best to tell him I had fled from pursuit, and that a price was set on my head, and a ban laid on any one who might aid and harbour me. He laughed a loud, sharp laugh, which scarcely changed his countenance.

"You are none the less welcome for all that," said he. "Here we defy the mad world's law. Eat your supper, and afterwards you shall tell me as much as you choose."

When my host had heard the reason of my flight, he again a.s.sured me of my welcome.

"Stay with me as long as suits you--the longer the better, so far as I am concerned. Now that our work of harvesting is over, I am free to enjoy myself in your company all day long, and what sport Lindholme can give you already know."

Thanking my cordial host, I settled down to life in Lindholme, until it might be possible to make a dash for freedom and safety abroad.

On the Wednesday, Bland would not hear of my venturing to Messic Mere, as I had engaged to do, but he went himself and brought John Drury to Lindholme, and conducted him to the Mere again in the evening.

John gave me the comforting news that my lady and her father had got away to sea without let or hindrance. Mr. Ulceby sent me word that he would have a vessel of some sort ready to convey me to Holland, whenever it might be prudent for me to try to leave England. John feared that it would be long before I might do so, for heaven and earth would be moved to secure my capture, and he highly commended the wisdom of my host in disallowing me to leave my retreat. He thought it more than likely Boswell might have spied on me and guessed my destination.

"If so," he added, "the fellow will keep the knowledge to himself, until he gives up hope of taking you single-handed. He will endeavour so to do, rather than share the reward with others. Remember the offer is equal for taking you 'dead or alive!' So prithee be on thy guard, my friend."

Some of the earl's officers had visited Belshaw, but could not learn anything from the women, and John's cousin knew nothing.

John had called at the Crowle vicarage to a.s.sure my aunt I was in no present danger. There he heard news of d.i.c.k Portington, who had been to London and the Bath with Ryther and his daughter for some time; and it was commonly reported that d.i.c.k and Mistress Ryther were to be married at Christmas. So it was not probable that d.i.c.k and I should be on the old terms of close friends.h.i.+p any more.

We had some talk of the defeat of King Christian at Lutter, of which John had heard in Hull, and of the purpose of King Charles to enroll a body of volunteers to go to the a.s.sistance of his uncle and the cause of Protestantism.

"If we could but smuggle you out of the Isle," said John, "here might be an opening for you."

But of smuggling me away there seemed to be no chance just now. After we had agreed on a plan of communication, John returned, and I resigned myself with such composure as I could muster to a sojourn at Lindholme for an uncertain time, which I must pa.s.s as best I could.

There was certainly plenty of such diversion as fowling affords, for at that time the birds were more abundant all over the Isle than in these days, and round about Lindholme more numerous than anywhere else, but difficult to come by on account of the rottenness of the bog and the height and thickness of the reeds. I have seen the surface of the ground for a couple of roods blackened with brent geese, when it was impossible to get within shot of them, and though flocks of hoopers (which some call whistling swans) came to feed every evening of my stay at Lindholme, returning to the seash.o.r.e every morning, the only manner of getting a shot was to find some spot beneath their line of flight, where the ground would bear a man's weight, and there was cover in which to hide, and such spots were bad to find. We often heard the dunbirds (redheads, our marshmen call them) working all night within half a mile of us, and might have had good sport, if we could have got near to them in the morning twilight, when they head up together ready to fly to their day quarters; but that could only be done when rain had fallen so heavily that there was water sufficient to float a punt. So, though game was plentiful, there was occasion for judgment and skill in taking it, which gave zest to our diversion, and the hermit and I spent most of the day in the open air, sometimes venturing on to the bog where he had not dared to go alone. Of an evening we sat over the fire awhile, he smoking his pipe and often drinking rather freely of brandy-wine, until such time as he thought good to climb into his hammock in the inmost room. At such times he talked very strangely, when he had loosened his tongue by drinking, and one of his themes was the madness of the world.

"'Tis a mad world, Mr. Vavasour," he would say, "consider it how you will. The desires and pursuits of ninety-nine out of a hundred men are so lunatical that we should die of laughing at one another, if we were not all mad together. One man sets his heart on acquiring twenty thousand pounds; he might just as wisely toil to acc.u.mulate twenty thousand red pebbles. Nay, that would be better, for he might heap up his pebbles without lying and cheating or harm to any of his neighbours. He gets no more good of his pounds than if they were pebbles, unless you can reckon the envy of his equally foolish a.s.sociates as an advantage. He eats no better than I, sleeps no better, has no enjoyment which is not mine, and at last he dies, leaving his pebbles--his pounds I mean--to be the subject of heart-burning and wrangling among his heirs. Another idiot is bent on learning, which means that he loads his memory with a pack of stuff which is mainly false, and none of it of use for any conceivable purpose. He reads what was written ages ago by the flatterers of some man called great, or by those who took pleasure in defaming him, or by those who were too cross and stupid to understand him. He reads of prodigies which never happened, of monsters which never existed, speeches which were never spoken, accounts of battles derived from persons who did not see them. He is crammed with idle tales and fond inventions; and other men, addicted to the same follies, give him a cloak and a cap, and call him doctor. And the most outrageous part of the farce is that the men who are appointed to teach poor folk to be chaste and just and kind, are required to be well versed in tales about G.o.ds and G.o.ddesses, which are so full of impurity and wickedness that no one would dare to English them for the reading of the common people.

'Tis a mad world."

Thus he would go on by the hour when the humour took him, and had it all his own way with me, for if I put in a word of objection, he overwhelmed me with a torrent of eloquence, or nimbly skipped off in some new direction.

One evening he strove to show me that Daft Jack was the sanest man in our part of the world.

"He is free from the madness of gathering money, being content to live as the birds and beasts do, without care for the morrow, as your religion bids you to live. He has no wish to be talked about after he is dead and buried, which madmen dignify by calling it desire for fame.

He has not racked his brain over books filled with lies and vain imaginations; but he knows the whereabout and the ways of fish and fowl, and how to find and use every herb and root which is good for food. His bit of orchard is well kept and tilled, and if you were to put him down in any quarter of the world, he would know how to get a living. And to crown all, he accepts without murmur the name of fool, which madmen give him."

"Not quite so," I interjected, remembering what the high and mighty Tunstall had to suffer through calling him so. This led to my telling the story, which provoked the hermit to one of his queer fits of laughter--laughter which did not pucker his face or show in his eyes, but came from his throat like the noise from a gun.

A few days later, my host spoke freely of his own history, telling me that his relatives had obtained possession of his estate on the allegation of his lunacy, and had attempted to shut him up in a bedlam.

He had contrived to effect his escape with money, which sufficed to stock his farm in a small way; but he had long lived in fear of being seized and carried off to a madhouse. Now he had lost the fear, having been unmolested for some years. So, at least, he said; but from the vehemence with which he spoke of the matter, and from some of his actions, I doubted whether his a.s.surance was as perfect as he affirmed.

He sometimes made the round of the island at night, gun in hand, preferring to go alone, and on his return, he looked with great carefulness to the bolts and bars of the door. That he should have such fastenings in a place so remote and inaccessible had appeared strange to me, but at first I set it down to force of habit.

Of the other denizens of the islet I saw little. The man was a st.u.r.dy fellow of a hangdog look, and spoke mumblingly, so that I could not make out one word in a dozen. The woman was of appalling ugliness, and so unwomanlike as never to speak except when spoken to, and not always then. Their son combined the qualities of sire and dam, a lout so clumsy and hideous that he seemed hardly human, but of immense bodily strength. All three gave a sullen obedience to the hermit, often making surly answer to his commands, but appearing to go in dread of him. It was evident they looked on me with disfavour, though why I had no guess, and I did not give myself the trouble to learn.

A month lagged slowly by, Bland and I spending our days mainly in shooting, and the short time between supper and bed in converse, or, rather, in his talking and my listening. Toward the end of the month he began to drink deeply, and to talk more wildly than ever. One evening, after I had listened with my utmost patience to his railing on this and that folly of mankind, or what he accounted such, he turned to the subject of love, which he reckoned the veriest madness of all, which had been artfully turned by priests and lawmakers for their profit, and the subjection of their fellows to the inst.i.tution of marriage; of which he said many vile and abominable things, confounding the divine affection of the soul with the instinct that leads animals to pair, until my gorge rose, and I cried--

"Hold! I will not sit to listen to this foul raving."

Such fury seized him at my words as I hope I may never see again. He sprang to his feet, his eyes glaring, his every limb trembling.

"Dare you call me madman?" he shouted. "You whom I have sheltered and fed, lumpish mooncalf, unlettered b.u.mpkin! Out of my house, or I will make an end of you!"

As he turned, foaming at the mouth with rage, to reach his gun, I deemed it best to put the door between us.

At length I saw that the hermit was a madman, whose mind was possessed with the belief that he alone, of all human creatures, had his right wits, and the rest of the world was mad. Some touch of his infirmity I have seen in others, but nothing so colossal.

'Twas a keen and frosty night, the beginning of a spell of bitter weather, as I surmised from the silence on the fen. Many birds, which stay on the marshes till Christmas, or later in mild winters, I had seen in flight during the last two or three days, and many more must have taken their departure, for there to be such extraordinary quietude. On the morrow it would be easy to return to Belshaw over the frozen bog, but it would be foolhardy to venture now, for the thin crescent of the moon was low down in the west. I did not choose to rouse Bland's servants to ask for anything, so I paced up and down the hill ten or twelve times to warm myself, and then lay down in the barn, pulling hay over me, and waited for the dawn. When it came, I tried Bland's door, and found it unbarred, so I stepped lightly in, and gathered my belongings together without arousing him, or at least without his giving any sign of being disturbed. I had no occasion to enter the inner room, all my property being in the outer one. So I turned my back on Lindholme, uncertain where to hide my head now, but intending to take counsel with John and Bess.

When I reached Belshaw, soon after seven o'clock, for one could go swiftly over the ground made firm by the frost, the sight of Dame Drury's face told me bad news, for her eyes were swollen with weeping.

She broke into such crying and sobbing, when I asked what was amiss, that she could scarcely tell me her doleful tidings. Late last night a troop of musketeers had surrounded the house, and some of them had entered and laid hold of Bess, whom they had strapped behind one of their number, and carried her off to Castle Mulgrave. They had made no secret of what was intended to be done with her; she was to be "questioned" of her knowledge of my doings and present abode, as the fellows had plainly said with many a coa.r.s.e and brutal jest. While I sat with my head in my hand, trying to think of what I should do, John came to me.

"Nay, be not so utterly downcast, my friend," said he. "This is none of Boswell's doing. Not even he can be such an unnatural fiend as to give up his daughter to the torment of the rack, or even to look on while she is tortured. He must have influence enough with the earl to save her from that."

"You take too much for granted," I replied, "We don't know that Boswell is in the earl's service, or that his utmost effort on her behalf would have a feather's weight. I can trust to no such peradventure as that."

"But you can do nothing," urged John. "If Boswell's standing with the earl avails nothing, what is yours? What can you offer to induce him to spare poor Bess?"

"Thanks, ten thousand thanks for the enlightening word," I cried, grasping John's hand. "I will offer him Frank Vavasour."

"But Frank Vavasour is not his own to offer. There are the rights of a dear lady far away to be considered."

"If I know her, John, she would not think her property in me worth a bad farthing, if I left Bess to the torture, if I did not do all that may be done to save her. Give order for Trueboy to be saddled and another horse. Come with me to Castle Mulgrave; we can talk as we ride."

Dame Drury brought us something to eat and drink, while the horses were saddled, and in a few minutes we were on our way. As we rode, I told John how I had been driven from Lindholme, and we spoke of what was to be the manner of procedure at the castle. My first thought had been that John might deal with the earl, promising to give me up on condition of the deliverance of Bess; but he had a word to say which changed the face of affairs.

"A week after you took refuge in Lindholme, I thought we had been foolish not to pay better attention to the proclamation issued by the earl. Here it is. You see the description is of your appearance as it was before that villain meddled with your face, and we might have s.h.i.+pped you off under the eyes of men who had that description in their hands. I should have ventured across to Lindholme to speak with you on this; but feared I might lead the way for your pursuers, and waited also for the slackening of the hue-and-cry."

"Thank Heaven for your delay. This may mean the salvation of Bess, and better terms for me than I had any hope of when we set off. The earl and those nearest him may know nothing of my mutilation. I will take the chance to negotiate with the earl myself. I know him as you do not. If my scheme prove good, Bess will be handed over to you within an hour. What will come of me, remains to be seen. You will let every one know where I am, and stir up all the help for me that can be found, I know right well. Squire Stovin, Parson Graves, Mr. Ulceby, and whomsoever else you can think of. Here we are! Take Trueboy. I must not ride up to the castle, but enter as a marshman should."

We both alighted and gripped hands.

"G.o.d give you good luck!" said John. "I dare not gainsay you, my friend, for you are doing what I hope I should do, if I were in your place. Be sure I will not rest until all is done that may be done, to s.n.a.t.c.h you from beneath the old lion's paw."